Marvel : Web Of Evolution

Wilson Fisk sat behind his massive oak desk, with drinks place before him. The dim lighting of his office casting shadows across the room. Across from him, were three cloaked figures seated and surrounded with eerie vibes, silent and watchful. Their presence was unsettling, but Fisk had dealt with worse.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. One of Fisk's men entered.

"Sir, Mr. Jameson is here to see you."

Fisk frowned slightly but nodded. "Send him in."

J. Jonah Jameson stormed inside, his ever-present scowl even deeper than usual. But not his bravado, it looked dampened bh the imposing presence of the Kingpin. "The guy you gave me was incompetent! He got caught."

Fisk leaned back, lacing his fingers together. "Incompetent?" His voice was slow, measured and dangerous. "You had one job, Jameson. I gave you cash... evidence... Chameleon... and every tool necessary to ruin Spider-Man." His jaw tightened. "And you failed. Miserably."

Jameson cleared his throat. "Technically-"

"I don't care about technicalities." Fisk's voice got low, but there was an unmistakable edge, like a blade waiting to be drawn. "I care about results."

He reached into a drawer, pulled out a small card, and slid it across the desk with deliberate slowness.

"You have one last chance. Go to this address. You'll find a man, a scientist named Harlan Stillwell. He'll help you create something the city will trust… and fear."

Jameson picked up the card, his fingers twitching slightly. "And the catch?"

Fisk didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge the darkness in the far corner of the room.

A figure stepped forward, silent as a whisper. The dim light caught on the sharp angles of his sleek black and purple armor, with his eyes hidden behind the visor. He gave away nothing, but it felt cold. He raised two fingers in a lazy salute, then slipped back into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never been there.

Jameson swallowed. His throat felt dry. "And…who the hell is that?"

Fisk's smirk was something unsettling.

"That… is Prowler." His gaze darkened, a predator watching its prey. "He'll be handling my more sensitive affairs. And you… will provide the chaos to cover his work."

Jameson barely suppressed a shiver. For the first time in a long while, he felt like a pawn in a game he didn't fully understand. He hesitated but then sighed. "Fine. I'll see what I can do." He adjusted his tie and turned toward the door, but not before throwing one last glance at the cloaked figures. "And them?"

Fisk's expression darkened slightly. "Handle what you're told to, Jameson. Now leave."

Jameson scrambled out. The tension returned as Fisk turned back to the cloaked figures. "Now… where were we... Mr.?"

One of the figures finally spoke. " You may call me as Scalphunter. The deal is same as before. Father, will aid you in taking over this city and you supply him with the test subjects he needs. The deal stands as long as you uphold it."

Kingpin leaned forward, the flickering light revealing a twisted grin. "Then we have a deal."

Scalphunter smirked and gestured to the two figures beside him: a monstrous, wild-haired man with gleaming yellow eyes and metallic sharp fangs and a pale-skinned woman with jet-black hair, a hauntingly perfect face, and mismatched eyes... one icy blue, the other inky black. Her smirk held the confidence of someone who had never lost a bet.

"This is Sabretooth, one of the finest creations of our Father. And this," he motioned to the lithe woman, "is Domino, perfected and trained in advanced marksman ship."

Sabretooth let out a guttural chuckle, fanged grin sharp as a blade. The clone of Domino simply rolled a poker chip between her fingers, her mismatched eyes unreadable.

Fisk studied them, eyes gleaming with intrigue. Then, with a slow nod, he raised his glass.

"Then we have an understanding. Convey my regards to your master."

Back in the Web-Quarters, holographic screens flickered with glowing data as Peter Parker leaned back, watching his stats update.

Strength: 3,650 tons

Speed: 1,217 mph (1,959 km/h)

Reflex speed: 61 milliseconds

Defense: max damage 4,200 tons max

(Please note: These datas are excluding the current healing factor.)

A chime sounded.

["Sir, your stats have stagnated ever since you stopped using the suit's restriction function.]

Peter smirked. "And?"

["Isn't this kind of overkill against the Hulk? From your estimations, he should only be around a hundred tons at this stage.]

Peter spun around in his chair, the wheels gliding smoothly across the floor like a villain in his throne. He placed a hand over his heaft, tilting his head away with dramatic flair.

"Oh, sweet CELESTE. Did I invite you into this world?"

["You did, Sir. But I don't see how-"]

"Then let me invite you again, to this complex multiverse where destroying a planet only puts you way below average." He turned back to the screen. "This Hulk? In four to five years, he'll be throwing stars around like baseballs. Where does that put us?"

["…"]

"Remember CELESTE, it's always better to have it and not need it than not have it and need it."

CELESTE fell silent for a moment before continuing.

["Understood. What's the next plan, sir?"]

Peter grinned. "Three things... Vibranium, Adamantium, and Anti-Metal. Oh, make it four, including Carbonadium."

["I've heard of Vibranium and Adamantium, but… Anti-Metal?"]

Peter stretched his arms. "It's a special type of Vibranium that destroys metal on contact. We'll need it to counter Adamantium and other indestructible materials."

["If Anti-Metal is superior, then why get Adamantium?"]

Peter's grin widened. "Because Adamantium has one property no other metal does, it's a perfect counter to magic. And we also need it to make proto-adamantium."

["…I admit, that's kind of awesome."]

"And Carbonadium," Peter added, "has anti-healing properties. Meaning if we ever run into a certain regenerating Canadian with claws, we'll have options."

["A reasonable precaution. Smart!"]

Peter nodded, satisfied. But before he could move on, CELESTE spoke again.

["Sir… I have another question."]

Peter sighed. "What now?"

["Where do the growing collection of ceramic cups come in. Is that smart too?"]

Peter glanced at the long shelf lined with ceramic cups. Some had superhero logos. One had "World's Best Web-Slinger" written on it. Another had "Peter's Cup: Do Not Touch" scrawled in marker.

"It's called a hobby, CELESTE. Let's move on."

["Understood."] There was a brief pause. [Initiating daily patrol protocols. Cams around the Web-Quarters are hacked. You have a 20-second window for exit.]

Peter's casual clothes shifted into his suit. "Then let's hit the town."

Swinging over the city, Peter immediately felt something was… off. The usual city noise, cars honking, sirens wailing, people chattering, was somewhat... subdued. The city was not at all silent. But, compared to usual, it felt so.

Like a calm before a storm or worse… a calm where there should have been a storm. His instincts screamed at him. Something big was happening, and he was already behind.

["Sir, I detect a significant decrease in criminal activity across all major hotspots. No muggings, no gang fights, not even a purse snatching."]

Peter narrowed his eyes as he landed on a rooftop. "That's not good. Even New York criminals take dinner breaks, but not all of them at once."

["Exactly. This level of coordination suggests external pressure."]

Peter sighed. "Alright. Time to call someone with a better ear to the ground."

["Already securing the line with Daredevil."]

A few seconds later, a gruff voice answered. "Matt Murdock speaking."

Peter grinned under his mask. "Sir, this is from the Daily Bugle. We're running a special feature on boob size and back pain. As a vigilante battling evil with double Ds on your chest, what is you opinion on the matter?"

"…Is this Spider-Man?"

Peter sighed dramatically. "Damn. You figured it out too fast."

"Heh! Wait.. how did you...know who I am?" Matt tone grew serious.

"Because I'm Spider-Man and I'll explain later."

There was a pause before Matt spoke again. "Very well. You called at the right time. I've been meaning to contact you, but I didn't know how. Something's wrong in the underworld."

Peter's humor faded. "Yeah, I was getting that vibe. The whole city feels…off. What do you know?"

A loud CRASH echoed from the other end of the call. Peter tilted his head. "Are you… uh, busy?"

Matt, currently bending a thug's arm at an unnatural angle, exhaled sharply. "Little bit. Give me a second."

Peter hummed as he listened to what sounded like a chair breaking over someone's head.

Matt's voice returned, slightly out of breath. "The underworld is shifting. There are new players in town. Kingpin is holding a city-wide meeting with both criminals and the higher-ups."

Peter let out a low whistle. "That explains the quiet. Every thug in town must be at that meeting."

Matt tightened his grip on his current conversation partner, who let out a choked groan. "Where's the meeting?"

The thug struggled. "I-I don't know! Only my boss was invited!"

Matt twisted his arm just a little more.

The thug yelped. "OKAY, OKAY! His phone! My boss's phone! He got a message with the location!"

"Get the number!" Spoke an excited Spidey from the other side of the call.

Matt released the thug, who slumped onto the floor, clutching his arm. "The number."

The thug rattled it off, and within moments, CELESTE had cracked into the phone's records.

["Got it, sir. Message logs show the meeting location is a warehouse in Hell's Kitchen. Sending coordinates now."]

Peter smirked. "You're the best, CELESTE."

[" A fact."]

Minutes later, Matt joined him on a rooftop, both heroes fixed their eyes on the warehouse where the meeting was set to take place.

The building was old, its windows covered in grime, the perfect place for shady dealings.

Daredevil folded his arms,"What's the plan, Spider?"

Peter grinned. "Peeping time."

Daredevil shook his head, amused. "Can we at least call it a stakeout?"

Peter shrugged." Tomayto, tomahto."