Marvel : the Author

Hello everyone ! Almost thought I wouldn't make it in time. I might not make it exactly since I need to write these few sentences in a few minutes. Bear with me please !

Let's get the advertisement out of the way : Patréon page = search for Cathbel on the website. More chapters, more stories, my handsome self (and no, I'm not selling myself).

For the culture… Did I ever write about the Sens8 series on Netflix ? Love this show with a really amazing concept ! Eight people all sharing their minds with other people like us they can connect with if they ever make eye contact. And of course, the evil corporation hunting them down to kill off their race and/or weaponize them. Just so you know, this story comes straight from the awesome minds who created the Matrix, the Wachowski sisters.

And now, enjoy !

=============

My mind processes Wilson Fisk's words for a few seconds. I soon realize that… Unlike my previous thoughts, Fisk isn't so arrogant as to believe himself untouchable. In fact, he's smart to enough to act for the cameras. And what an act !

It makes it that much more difficult for me to simply bash the man's face in, as I want to do. Heh ! Not really. I mean : it doesn't make it harder if I don't care about my image, and the truth is that I'm not really that eager to start a fight here. So, why not play his game, then ?

« I'm very sorry mister Fisk, for my uncouth behavior. Believe me when I say that starting a fight with your security team was the last thing on my mind. Unfortunately, they did open fire on me without so much as a warning, leaving me with no choice but to incapacitate them. Not to worry though : they're only asleep. »

I manage to spot a minor twitch of his eye before Fisk schooled himself. Even though I know he's a little annoyed I'm playing it nice, he seems to want to keep the charade. Probably wonders who's gonna snap first…

« Indeed they fired. As is their job when an unknown mutant tries to break into the place of residence of their employer. They have permits for their weapons. Whereas you… do not have the right to step foot in this place. Perhaps I should call the police ? »

« My apologies for… trespassing without permission. Of course, you have every right to call the authorities. Please, before you do I have something to admit. There's a reason why I came all the way here, sir. While I was going around the city and interrogating the usual criminal elements roaming the streets in search of my friends… Some of them told me that they had been brought here. » I let the words hang in the air for a while, watching Fisk's expression change, morphing to one of anger. I resumed my lip service : « I am not implying that you have anything to do with this, sir. No ! A upstanding philanthropist such as you cannot possibly be mixed up in a sordid affair of kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment ! However… » I pause and glance up at his face and utter my 'assumption' : « … Perhaps some of your men are not as good-natured and upstanding as you are. Would it not be possible that, among the many people under your employ, some possess ties to other criminal elements ? » I shake my head with a shrug before continuing in the fakest, most falsely honest tone I can manage : « I simply could not let that stand ! I couldn't possibly let such a possibility tarnish your good reputation. And if it was true that my friends were here, then I had no choice but to come save them. I ask that you please consider these extenuating circumstances, sir… »

Time stands still suddenly, the man who was the head of the biggest criminal empire in New York seems at a loss for words. He's a genius no doubt, when it comes to hiding his activities and building his empire. However, when it comes to words, I beat him hands down ! That's about the only thing I pride myself in, after all…

So, it isn't exactly a surprise when the man explodes in fury, his massive arms raising above his head like two sledgehammers :

« Enough of this farce ! You trespassed, you die ! »

As the fists fall on me, they're met with almost not resistance, instead crumbling into dark liquid and clinging to his arms.

From inside his office, I can't help but comment as I manipulate the ink to put the man to sleep :

« Well… That was much easier that I thought. »

It's almost anticlimactic, really. Especially since I've used so much ink for my clone. Only a fraction of it is used to put the man to sleep. I'll leave the rest on him for the moment, just in case…

In the meantime, I wonder what's in the office of an evil criminal mastermind !

* * * * * *

A couple of hours later, I meet back up with my parents outside the building. My friends are there and I finally heave a breath I didn't know I was holding. Looks like I was really worried for them. Still…

« Why the hell didn't you tell me ? » I direct the question to my parents, my tone short of seething.

My dad point at my mom in silence and with a shrug, she explains her reasoning :

« You spend time with people who really want to be heroes, you train to be a hero yourself and you often act like a hero… But when push comes to shove, you let your thinking overrule your true desires. I thought that if you were forced to confront a true danger such as this man, perhaps it would change things for you. »

I'm left speechless by her explanation. True, some part of me does want to be a hero. The part that loved comics, that never really grew up, the one that closed its eyes and ears while watching the Boys. Another part on the other hand, had a very pragmatic reason to become a hero. Staying on the sideline is as dangerous, if not more than involving yourself in conflict. At least, that is true in comic book reality… So, yeah. The training, the fighting crime because it builds up, you know ? It helps to prepare me for the really dangerous threats : the civil wars, the aliens invasions, the extradimensional incursion, demonic doomsday scenario, mystical zombie plagues etc…

So yeah, I don't really know what to feel when mom says this to me. She's the psychologist, so she probably knows her stuff… Right ? And I can't exactly outright deny the fact that I want to be a hero. It beats being a villain 'cause if a hero's life is shit and a civilian one is collateral damage waiting to happen, villains are the universe's punching bags ! Heroes, their own allies, the authorities, other evil or criminal organizations basically all want a piece of them ! And there's the fact that I'm not exactly too comfortable with doing what it takes to be considered a villain… like killing, mostly.

After a while, I just sigh, look at Cory, Doreen and Peter. My friends. They look tired, a little beat up, but otherwise in relatively high spirits. With a smile, I tell :

« I'm glad you're all okay ! » After a second of paranoia induced by comic book shenanigans, I add : « We'll have to make sure you are who we think you are. »

Everyone looks at me weirdly, and my grin just broadens genuinely.