Chapter Text
The dimly lit room was cold, and MJ's wrists ached from the tight restraints. Don Fortunato stood before her, his gaze sharp and menacing. Behind him was Bushwacker, his enforcer. Who wears shades in the dark?
“Is that flesh growing over your weapon arm?”, asked MJ quipping. The man with the cannon arm just glared at her. Then, Don Fortunato roughly put his hand on MJ’s chin to make her look at him.
"You thought you could infiltrate my operations, did you?", he hissed. "Who sent you? Who are you working for?"
MJ remained silent, her mind racing for a plan. She had once heard that Fortunato enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and she intended to use that to her advantage. She met his gaze with defiance, refusing to give him the satisfaction of fear.
"I'll break you", Fortunato snarled, pacing around her. "You will tell me everything."
MJ's eyes flicked to the door, calculating the distance. If she could create a distraction, she might have a chance. As Fortunato continued his tirade, MJ suddenly slumped forward, feigning unconsciousness.
"Useless", Fortunato muttered, turning his back on her. At that moment, MJ sprang into action. Using her gymnastic prowess, and her gloves claws, she cut the ropes tying her, twisted her wrists free and leaped towards Fortunato. She landed a swift kick to his knee, sending him sprawling. Before he could call for help, MJ grabbed a nearby chair and smashed the window.
She broke through the glass to exit, moving into the darkness outside. The night air was cold against her face, but she continued running across the garden. She was aware that Fortunato's men would likely follow shortly. Before dropping from the ledge, MJ fired her grappling hook gun, its hook stabbing into the ground, letting its cable slow her descent and land her safely on the shadowy grass below. MJ saw Bushwacker looking at her from the window, pointing his arm weapon at her before lowering it and walking away.
MJ knew this was far from over, but she had managed to turn the tide once more. She disappeared into the night, her mind already focusing on the next steps to bring down Don Fortunato. The challenges were daunting, but MJ was determined to see it through.
Ben swung through the city, his keen eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. He had heard whispers of a deal going down in the old warehouse district, and he was determined to put a stop to it. As he landed on a rooftop, he spotted a group of men gathered below, their conversation hushed and tense.
Without a moment's hesitation, Ben leaped into action. He descended upon them like a red shadow, his movements quick and precise. The criminals barely had time to react before they found themselves incapacitated; their weapons useless against his superior skills.
"Tell your boss the Scarlet Spider sends his regards," Ben growled, securing the last of them with webbing. He knew this was just a small victory, but every step counted in their fight against the darkness that threatened the city.
Next day
Kate was dreading this day, but she knew she had to face her problems, that she had to confront her past. The one unlocked thanks to Arthur.
Right now, she was heading to the office of her therapist, who received her upon entering the office.
“Oh, you must be Kate?”, said the therapist, who was a light brunette woman who looked almost middle aged, but still attractive. “Come on in, take a sit.”
“Thank you”, said Kate as she took a seat.
“So, Kate, what is it that brings you here?”, asked the therapist.
“Well, the thing is this”, began Kate. She didn’t want to give full details. “When I was fifteen, I was walking through Central Park after coming from a friend’s party. Them, a man came out of nowhere and dragged me to the back of a public restroom building.”
“And what happened afterwards?”, asked the therapist.
“I kneed him in the groin, hard enough to be able to break out of his hold and run away”, said Kate, shaken at reliving such moment. “Then, I went home and took a bath to scrub the dirtiness off me.”
“Did something trigger this memory, Kate?”, asked the therapist as she wrote on her notebook.
“Let’s just say, someone forced me to confront this memory”, said Kate. Technically, Arthur did forced her to confront that memory, albeit by accident.
The therapist nodded sympathetically; her pen poised above the notebook. "It's good that you're confronting this now, even if the circumstances were not ideal. Have you discussed this with anyone else?"
Kate shook her head. "No, I haven't. I think I've been trying to forget it ever since it happened. But this person... he unknowingly brought it all back."
The therapist leaned forward slightly; her eyes warm with understanding. "Sometimes, the past has a way of resurfacing when we least expect it, especially if we've tried to bury it deep. It's like a shadow that follows us, waiting for the right moment to emerge."
Kate took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. "I want to put this behind me, but I'm not sure how."
"That's why I'm here," the therapist said gently. "We'll work through this together. It's a process, but you're not alone in this journey."
Kate felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could finally find peace. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but facing her past was the first step toward healing.
“Thank you, Dr. Glenn”, said Kate as she and Dr. Heather Glenn shook hands.
“Any time, Kate”, said Dr. Glenn.
As Kate left the Dr. Glenn’s office, she felt the weight of her memories lighten just a bit. She was ready to take the next steps, whatever they might be.
Kate arrived at the YA base, and Kamala quickly approached her.
“So, did your therapy session went well?”, asked Kamala.
“It went well”, said Kate. She didn’t want to get into details.
“Fury is expecting us in the meeting room”, said Kamala. She and Kate headed there.
Don Fortunato’s mansion
Eliza was currently washing dishes in the kitchen when a guard came up to her, handing her a note. Eliza dried her hands before grabbing the note, and saw it was a groceries list.
“The boss needs you to go shopping”, was all the guard said before walking off.
Eliza went to her shack to get some things, mainly her tan-colored coat and her red scarf, making sure its fully covering her neck. She didn’t want anyone wondering why she’s wearing a dog collar. This is also another way for Don Fortunato to humiliate her.
But then again, he’s also monitoring her, making sure she doesn’t try to run away through the tracking device in her dog collar.
Eliza grabbed her bag and stepped out into the chilly evening air; her scarf tightly wrapped around her neck. The supermarket wasn’t far, but every step felt like a parade of humiliation as she passed people who barely spared her a glance, unaware of the silent battle she endured daily. The weight of the collar pressed against her dignity, a constant reminder of Fortunato’s control.
The streets were quiet as she reached the store, her mind momentarily distracted by the colorful shelves. She focused on the list, moving swiftly to gather the items, though her hands trembled slightly each time she crossed a name off. She felt as though Fortunato’s eyes were on her, even here. Was it the collar? Was it him? She couldn’t tell anymore.
As she paid for the groceries, her thoughts drifted toward escape—not for the first time. But the idea always seemed futile. The collar was a leash that stretched beyond physical boundaries. It held her back both literally and figuratively, tethering her spirit to his oppressive whims.
On her way back to Don Fortunato’s mansion, Eliza adjusted her scarf against the biting wind, her mind cycling through the same oppressive thoughts. Each step toward the mansion felt like a retreat into a cage she could neither escape nor endure. The weight of the groceries in her bag seemed trivial compared to the heavier burden of her circumstance, a constant ache she carried within her.
The mansion loomed ahead like a dark sentinel, its towering façade both majestic and suffocating, a grim reflection of Fortunato’s dominion. As she approached the gates, the guards barely glanced at her, their apathy cutting deeper than any disdain. Eliza entered the mansion’s grounds, her pulse quickening as the familiar walls closed around her.
Crossing the threshold into the kitchen, she was greeted by the faint aroma of old wood and simmering stew, though neither offered comfort. The guard from earlier leaned against a counter, his posture relaxed yet somehow intimidating. Eliza resisted the urge to let her eyes linger on him. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—not here.
As she began unloading the groceries, her movements were methodical yet hurried, her focus fixed on completing the task. But her mind refused to stay in the moment, drifting instead to fleeting dreams of freedom. The thought of tearing off the collar and walking away was intoxicating, even if it was nothing more than a fantasy born of desperation. She shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. Thinking of escape only made the chains around her feel tighter.
But as Eliza finished, her gaze momentarily flickered toward the far corner of the kitchen where she imagined a life outside these walls—a life devoid of collars and commands. The image faded as swiftly as it came, replaced by the grim reality of her situation. She turned to leave, her shoulders heavy, and made her way back to her shack in silence.
“Congratulations kids, the remains of AIM experiments are now repossessed by SHIELD”, said Fury. He, Danvers and Wilson were congratulating the Young Avengers on another successful mission.
“Thank you, Mr. Fury”, said Kamala excitedly.
“Well, we’ll leave you now, kids”, said Carol as she, Fury and Sam left.
“So, how far are we on our case against Don Fortunato?”, asked Kate.
“Well, other than he’s planning something with Mayor Fisk, nothing”, said Kamala. Then she looked at Eli. “What did you overheard, Eli?”
“Not much”, admitted Eli. “I almost got caught listening in, had to leave quickly.”
“So, we went undercover to that party at his mansion for nothing?”, asked Cassie in disbelief. Then she looked at Eli as well. “You didn’t discover anything else, did you?”
“No, sorry”, said Eli. He didn’t like lying to the team, but he couldn’t risk exposing Eliza to any danger. Not yet at least.
“Well, I’ll be leaving”, said Peter as he got off his chair and started walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?”, asked America.
“Fight crime”, was Peter’s answer before leaving.
“Anyone else concerned about Peter?”, asked America.
“It was creepy how he fought with those tendrils”, said Kate. “It’s like that suit is turning him into someone else.”
“True”, said Cassie.
Peter was out swinging in the city. He had already foiled two crimes and was preparing to go to his apartment when he saw MJ. She was sitting on the ledge of a building, wearing her Black Cat suit. Peter approached her, sitting next to her.
“Hi, Em”, said Peter as he sat next to her.
“Peter”, said MJ in a neutral voice. When she didn’t say anything, Peter talked.
“I’m sorry, Em”, he said. MJ seemed to tense, knowing what he meant. “I know I should have told you everything. But, seeing that band aid in your forehead –“
“You know”, began MJ with a tight voice. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I don’t need you dictating what I can or can’t handle.”
Peter’s jaw clenched, frustration flickering across his face. “I wasn’t dictating, Em. I was just—worried. Maybe a little too much, okay? But you scared me.”
MJ looked away, her tone sharpening. “I’m not breakable, Peter. You can’t keep me in the dark and expect me to just go along with it.”
He let out a rough sigh, running a gloved hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, I can’t lose you either.”
They glared at each other for a tense heartbeat, the city’s noise floating distantly below. The anger between them melted into something rawer, truer. MJ’s eyes softened, and Peter’s breath caught as their faces drifted closer, the night air electric.
Without a word, Peter leaned in, and MJ met him halfway. Their lips collided in a fierce, desperate kiss, all their hurt and longing crackling between them. The city faded away, if only for a moment, as they found comfort in each other’s arms.
“Your place or mine?”, asked MJ in a teasing manner. Then she remembered… “My place’s far away.”
“Mine’s nearby”, offered Peter. “Do you forgive me?”
“It’s a beginning”, said MJ. “And, lead the way.”
Peter and MJ went swinging, Peter holding MJ in his arms as they swing away.
Eliza was walking towards her shack after a long day of shores and being degraded. When she opened the door, she had to suppress a gasp as she saw Eli sitting on one of her chairs, as if he owned the place.
“What are you doing here?”, asked Eliza.
“Terrence and Larissa Wharton”, that’s all Eli said before getting off the chair. “Do either of those names ring any bells to you?”
“Where did you hear those names?", asked Eliza with a hint of fear.
“Fury”, said Eli. Eliza’s eyes went wide.
“You’re not angry at me, are you?”, asked Eliza with a hint of worry.
“What? No”, said Eli trying to placate her. “I meant, Nick Fury.”
“Okay, Nick Fury”, said Eliza. “That’s the weirdest name I’ve ever heard.”
“So, Terrence and Larissa Wharton?”, asked Eli.
Eliza sighed. “They’re my parents”, she said. “Or rather, were. They’re dead.”
“Under mysterious circumstances, right?”, asked Eli.
“Fortunato had his goons kill them”, said Eliza.
2019
“Happy birthday, sweetie”, a blonde woman with blue eyes told a blonde little girl with blue eyes.
“Thank you, mommy!”, said 11-year-old Eliza with an exited voice. She was wearing a ‘Happy Birthday’ crown on her head.
Suddenly, she was lifted by her daddy. “We love you, sweetie, you know that, right?”
“I love you too, daddy”, said Eliza. Her dad put a camera on a thingy to make it stand and he and her mommy sat together, with Eliza in front of them and the camera took a picture of them. The photo came from under the camera and her daddy grabbed it. Daddy wrote something on the back of the picture, but Eliza couldn’t tell what it was.
But the moment of joy was cut short by the sound of shattering glass. Terrence and Larissa exchanged a glance of sheer terror before Terrence swiftly moved to shield his family.
"Eliza, go hide in the closet. Now!", he whispered urgently.
"But Daddy—", Eliza began to protest, her blue eyes wide with fear.
"Now, Eliza!", Mommy’s voice was both stern and desperate.
Eliza ran to the closet in the hallway, hiding behind coats and shoes, trembling as she tried to calm her racing heart. She could hear the muffled sounds of a struggle, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunshots.
Her world went silent.
The closet door swung open, revealing a man with a sneer on his face. "Found you," he said, dragging her out. Eliza's screams filled the air, but no one was left to save her. “Look whom I found sir.”
Eliza was brought before a terrifying man. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Eliza”, she said. She was scared. Where were her mommy and daddy? “Where’s my mommy and daddy?”
“They’re gone little one”, said the man. “Your daddy owed me money, you know?”
Eliza's life had changed drastically since that fateful night. She now found herself in the grand and intimidating mansion of Don Fortunato, where every corner seemed to hold a shadow of power and fear. The once carefree days of her childhood were replaced by a rigid routine of chores and servitude.
Each morning, Eliza woke before dawn to begin her duties. She learned quickly that any mistake could result in swift punishment. The older maids, hardened by years of service, showed her the ropes with a mixture of pity and indifference. They knew all too well the price of disobedience.
Her tasks were many and varied, from polishing the ornate furniture that filled the mansion to tending to the expansive gardens that surrounded it. The work was relentless, and her small hands often ached by the end of the day. Yet, it was the only life she knew now.
Don Fortunato was a figure of terror in her eyes; a man whose word was law. She seldom saw him, but when she did, she made sure to keep her head down and her eyes averted. His presence was a constant reminder of the night her family had been torn apart.
Despite the fear and loneliness, Eliza found small comforts in the brief moments of solitude she could steal away. In the quiet of the night, she would sit by the window of her small room, gazing at the stars and whispering her fears and hopes to the vast sky. She clung to the memory of her parents, drawing strength from their love.
As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Eliza learned to navigate the treacherous waters of her new life. She became adept at reading the moods of those around her, knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. Her resilience grew, and with it, a quiet determination to survive, no matter the cost.
Eliza's new life as a maid was one of hardship and endurance, but within her burned a flicker of hope that one day, she might find a way to escape the grasp of Don Fortunato and reclaim a life of her own.
“And that’s how I ended up here”, said Eliza as she finished her story. Eli was sitting in one of the chairs listening attentively.
“I’m sorry you went through all that”, said Eli in sympathy. “And does Fortunato ever tell you anything about his activities?”
“If you think he tells me anything about his crimes, no he doesn’t”, said Eliza. “If you were expecting someone inside, I’m sorry but that can’t be me.”
“It’s okay, Eliza”, said Eli getting off the chair. “We will find another way to stop him.”
“No, you guys won’t”, said Eliza cynically. “Just, don’t come back here to risk yourself. I’ve already got used to it. I’ll never escape. I’ll probably die being a prisoner.”
“No, you won’t”, said Eli with determination. “I said I’ll get you out of here, and I’ll do that. If not for you, then, for your parents at least.”
Eli sighed. “I want to help you, but only if you want to be helped.”
Eli walked towards the door to leave. Eliza just stood there watching him leave. It wasn’t until she was sure Eli was gone that she broke down sobbing, making herself into a ball, hugging her knees.