To be able to outbid Pepper Potts seemed impossible. She and her whole company were not quite the conglomerate that Stark Industries was. They were a distant third or fourth, even when looking solely at America. He learned after the attack of New York, she had been relocating her base of operations to the UK. She already had a strong base there and full support of the government over there. The attack simply accelerated it.
So for him to completely and totally defeat her sounded impossible. The whispers leaned toward, "He must be a Saudi prince or something," to "Is he one of those Russian tycoons?"
With the mask, anonymity was expected. Anonymity was desired. Even so, curiosity couldn't be easily restrained. "Who is this man? Who are these women with him?"
Felicia rose first, the chair legs screeching against marble as she stood. She looked very proud and egotistical about her victory, pointedly smirking in Pepper's direction. Rogue suppressed a sigh as she rose from her seat. Felix stayed still for a beat, letting the murmurs ripple through the hall before he stood as well.
Gotta be dramatic.
An attendant appeared almost instantly, posture perfect, a polite smile fixed like a blade. "This way, ma'ams, sir. The scales will be delivered to the private reception room for collection and verification."
Felicia flashed a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Lead the way, sunshine."
The attendant guided them through a side corridor behind the stage. The Auction Master eyed the whole way through, with Felix not making eye contact. Once they were in, it was all marble and mirrors, the kind of corridor meant for rich people to feel important in. The music and chatter of the ballroom faded behind them, replaced by the soft hum of hidden machinery.
Spidey's ears perked up anyway. Through these walls, he heard the Auction Master's voice rang smooth and amused: "Stay put, everyone! Don't go anywhere. We're going to have a special event in a couple of minutes. A little reward from all our benefactors. It will be fun, trust me!"
The trio reached a reinforced door guarded by two security drones, chrome and faceless. The attendant swiped her badge and gestured for them to enter.
Inside was a vault-like room dressed up to look less like a bunker and more like a museum exhibit. The centerpiece was unmistakable. Several glass containers lined up neatly, each one holding a piece of Creature Z's scales. Seeing them caused his blood to stir. These scales were bigger. As large as a person, actually, unlike what was displayed up front.
"The scale that he showed up front was a broken-off piece," Felicia said to no one in particular. "Same as always, hm?"
"Y-yes, precisely." The attendant clasped her hands neatly in front of her. "As per Emporium protocol, each purchase of a Class-One artifact requires—"
"Three access keys to finalize ownership. You hold one," Felicia finished.
"Y-yes." The attendant cocked her head. "Have you been a customer before?"
"Yes, of course. I'm a regular, you see." Felicia flicked her hair. "I'm sure like always, the other two keys will be provided by the ambassador assigned to the sale."
"Precisely. Once all three are present, the cases can be unlocked."
"Do you think it'll be the Auction Master for once?" Felicia suddenly asked. "Or will it be someone else?"
"I don't know," the attendant said plainly. "It is for the master to decide."
They didn't wait long. Lightly, his Spider-Sense buzzed.
'Herbie?'
'IT IS HIM. IT IS—'
He glanced at Felicia, a subtle signal, and she received it. Her stance shifted from casual to tense. Footsteps echoed outside. Then the door opened — in stepped a tall man in an immaculate gray suit, thin spectacles glinting beneath the lights. His face was sharp, self-satisfied, the kind of arrogance that came with diplomatic immunity.
Ambassador Yvan of Latveria.
He didn't seem to recognize them at first. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am to congratulate you personally on your acquisition of—"
Ambassador Yvan's words died mid-sentence. His eyes locked on Felicia. The blood drained from his face.
Felicia's lips curved upward into a smile that promised violence. "You."
Ambassador Yvan took a cautious step back. "Ms. Hardy— I— this is—"
He didn't finish. Rogue was already attacked. She grabbed the attendant by the neck and twisted just enough to knock her out cold, lowering her to the floor without a sound.
Ambassador Yvan spun, fumbling for something in his coat, but Felicia was faster. One heel snapped against his shin, another slammed between his legs with bone-deep precision. The ambassador folded with a choked gasp, his knees buckling.
She caught him by the collar before he could collapse completely, dragging him close until their faces were inches apart. The Black Cat's voice was cold, seething through clenched teeth. "You remember me now, don't you? You should. You're the reason I spent last night rotting in an Indian prison." She twisted his tie tighter around his throat. "You set me up, you piece of garbage. You framed me for that old bitch's death."
Ambassador Yvan wheezed, face reddening. "You— you don't— understand—"
"Oh, I understand plenty," Felicia hissed. Her hand slid down, and Yvan let out a sharp grunt as her grip found a far more vulnerable spot. "You're getting married soon, right? If you don't start talking, I swear I'll make sure your future kids never happen."
Snikt! For effect, Rogue appeared over her shoulders with her claws out. "How nice of him." Her Adamantium claws traced his shoulder and then his neck. In both ways, the ambassador was royally fucked.
Felicia didn't take her eyes off him. She smirked. "Sorry, but no girl is going to be bailing you out this time, ambassador."
Yvan's hands trembled. Sweat beaded down his temple. "H-how did you even get in here? S-secur—" He shut up and gulped as an insignificant line of blood cut open his throat.
"I'm only going to ask once." Felicia tightened her grip one last time. "Tell me, Yvan, did you do it for money? For orders? Or was it for him? The Auction Master. Was he behind all of it?"
Yvan's eyes flicked toward the sealed cases, then back to her. Panic flashed in them — but also guilt.
Felicia leaned closer, lips near his ear. "Go on. Say it."
Yvan swallowed hard, eyes darting to Felix, to Rogue, then back to her. His mouth opened and he blurted out, "King T'Challa was meeting with his own people! That's all I know!"
"The blackmailer, we know," said Rogue. "Give us more, now."
"Look. Look. Listen. Prime Minister Vernard, me, and three body guards were coming back to the room to relax after getting what we needed from the auction. Okay? Okay! A-and when we went in to relax, to drink tea or w-whatever, we saw the bodies: King T'Challa and the eye-patch lady. T-the director or whatever. I was only told afterward of who she was."
"And?"
"We called for the guards and Vernard told me to clean everything up. W-we did. We tried. I was told there was some EMP blast that screwed up the datapoints. We didn't want to physically destroy t-their database, the Auction Master would be pissed, so I just…I did what I could. I called you over. I needed…"
"A fall girl." Yvan looked away. Felicia clicked her tongue. "So you're just the middleman. Figured as much anyway. The Prime Minister, he knows more, doesn't he?"
Rogue grinned. "Guess we should just kill you like I did the attendant."
She didn't kill the attendant but Yvan didn't know that. He panicked.
"Wait, wait! Wait. I-I was told t-that the blackmailer was a member of his own royal guards!"
"Ha?"
"I-it was a member of the Dora Milaje! Or something related to them! That's who he was meeting!"
"How do you know?"
"W-we found a bracelet or something! Our sources say it belongs to the Dora Milaje or those adjacent to them! T-they're honoured in their country, right?"
Rogue blinked twice. "Related to the Dora Milaje…? Right. I think I do remember…"
"What? What?" Felicia looked over at her ally. "What is it?"
"I think I remember nicking a hand and I don't think I got their flesh, but a bracelet…?"
"Y-yes! Yes! It was found near the window! You were thrown off the window, weren't you? It was near there! At the edge! Almost about to fall! They must have missed it! A-and—"
Felix was listening, until his hearing suddenly went high-pitched.
Every nerve in his body lit up like firecrackers. The world tilted, sounds sharpening and distorting into a feverish hum. His Spider-Sense — his oldest, most reliable instinct — screamed louder than it ever had before. Not even the primal scream that came with explosions or sniper fire. This was like Creature Z. This was…!
'Rash!? What's happening!?'
A blinding surge flooded his mind. For an instant, he saw it. The future. Just a fraction of it. A vision he only ever got when something catastrophic was about to happen. He saw Pepper Potts—dead and on pavement, bloodied and splatted. He saw Ambassador Yvan—dead in the same way.
His temperature spiked. His chest tightened. Sweat slicked his palms beneath the suit.
'Rash—'
'I KNOW! I KNOW!' the Symbiote howled in his head, voice vibrating with static. 'Something's coming! Something big! WRONG wrong wrong wrong—'
Herbie's voice layered over Rash's, somehow panicked despite being an AI: 'ENERGY SPIKES DETECTED—'
It was the beginning of the end.
Zip.
A sound so soft it barely existed, like a pinhole popping in the air.
Gravity vanished.
The floor, the room, the walls — all gone. The world snapped inside out. Felix's stomach lurched, his vision blurred into white streaks, and he was in the sky.
Cold wind slammed into him, roaring in his ears. His body tumbled, clouds whipping past like torn curtains. The air thinned, biting his lungs. For half a second, he thought it was another illusion — a psychic trap, a projection, anything — but then he saw it: sunlight, raw and real, burning against his lenses.
He was falling.
The clouds parted below, revealing a sprawling city bathed in gold and shadow.
Herbie had to reconnect and crackle into his mind. 'COORDINATE CONFIRMATION—LATITUDE 47.4979° N, LONGITUDE 19.0402° E—' A beat. 'YOU ARE ABOVE BUDAPEST.'
Felix's pulse slammed in his ears. His own thoughts were verbalized by someone else.
"What the FUCK—!?"
Felicia Hardy was plummeting a few dozen meters below, her black dress whipping like a flag in the wind, limbs flailing as she struggled to stabilize. Rogue was higher up, spinning, trying to orient herself midair.
'This issss reallll,' Rash growled, tendrils already extending from Spider-Man's arms, snapping against the wind like black lightning.
He steadied his body, turning his fall into a controlled dive, air screaming past him. The clouds shredded away, revealing Budapest's skyline far below. He saw blue rivers, glass towers, and cars like ants.
He forced his breathing to slow, every instinct shifting from shock to survival.
'Herbie,' he barked in thought, 'track where we were. Find me the energy signature that did this.'
'WORKING—WORKING—SIGNAL LOSS PARTIAL. SPATIAL ANOMALY CONSISTENT WITH QUANTUM-FOLD DISPLACEMENT—'
Spider-Man dove.
The wind cut against him like knives, the roar of freefall deafening. His body tucked tight, tendrils of the symbiote snapping from his shoulders and stretching thin as jet-black cords. Below him, Felicia spun helplessly, dress flaring like a black flame, her mask slipping off, while Rogue twisted and tried to stabilize herself, arms windmilling against the pull of gravity.
Two tendrils whipped downward: one caught Felicia around the waist and the other coiled around Rogue's arm. He yanked hard, redirecting their descent to him. Pressed to him, the three of them plummeted together now, the world screaming past in a blur of clouds and light.
Felix's eyes darted across the skyline. A cluster of glass towers, an open spire, a rooftop terrace. There.
'Rash!'
'On it!'
Web-wings were deployed. Okay, shit! With three people, this was shockingly more difficult! More weight, less air resistance and they had been falling for a LONG while now.
'Make the wings bigger!'
'We do nootttt have time!'
Rogue grunted. "Tell me you got a plan, web-head!"
He fired two weblines and they caught the steel framework of a skyscraper. The lines went taut, jerking them sideways. The trio swung in a wide arc, momentum rattling every bone in their bodies.
Spider-Man yanked hard, the webs snapping them toward a nearby rooftop. They hit the surface in a chaotic tangle; Felicia rolling across the gravel, Rogue smashing into a vent with a metallic thud, and Felix landing last, crouched, one palm pressed to the ground to absorb the shock.
Silence followed. Only the sound of their breathing filled the night air.
Felicia pushed herself up, chest heaving, silver hair sticking to her face. "What the hell just happened?" she snapped. "Where are we? How—" She spun in a circle, taking in the skyline. "Are we in Budapest?!"
Rogue leaned against the vent, panting. "You're kidding. We were in China five minutes ago."
"That's…that's only possible…" Felicia paled. "Don't tell me…"
Spider-Man's head tilted slightly. He had come to the same conclusion: the Auction Master had perfected her teleportation technology. Yet as he would come to know, that was not the worst of it. The worst arrived when Herbie spoke again.
'REPORT INCOMING…'
Felix's stomach dropped. Right. Right.
"If the Auction Master has mastered teleportation, then…" Felicia trailed off. "Oh my god."
'GLOBAL INCIDENT DETECTED. MULTIPLE ENERGY SIGNATURES MATCHING YOUR DISPLACEMENT PATTERN. CONFIRMED CASES OF INDIVIDUALS FALLING FROM SKY — WORLDWIDE.'
His worst fears were coming true. It wasn't just them...
'SPECIFICALLY IN BUDAPEST,' Herbie continued, 'THREE ADDITIONAL TARGETS IDENTIFIED AMONG THE FALLEN. CROSS-REFERENCE COMPLETE: AMBASSADOR YVAN — LOCATION VERIFIED. IMPACT SITE, DISTRICT FIVE.'
Herbie pulled up local camera footage, showing the live panic of this freshly arrived corpse. When he saw red, when he saw the uniform and the face-down body, Felix's heart skipped seven beats. 'Don't tell me...my vision…!'
It came true. It actually came true and he couldn't stop it. He stood wordlessly, muscles trembling. From the fall, from the vision, from what he feared.
"The technology of my world shouldn't be that compatible with this one's so how…?" Felicia put a hand to her mouth. "I don't get it…!"
Rogue got up, frowning and focused on the dark vigilante. "Spidey? Hey, what's—"
He was already gone. A single webline snapped out, pulling him from the rooftop into the night.
Budapest's skyline blurred past him. Thwip! Thwip! Budapest didn't have the same kind of skyscrapers as New York. He had to adjust. Not too big of an issue with web-wings and his agility. He followed the directions that Herbie gave him.
A crowd had gathered near a shattered parking structure, emergency lights flashing red and blue. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Spider-Man landed silently on a nearby building and looked down.
A body lay sprawled on the pavement. Limbs twisted, blood was pooling, and the fine fabric of a Latverian diplomat's suit was torn and dark. His face, what was left of it facing downward, was unmistakable.
Ambassador Yvan.
Herbie's voice came through again, flat and cold. 'IDENTITY CONFIRMED. CAUSE OF DEATH: IMPACT TRAUMA FROM FREEFALL. ESTIMATED ALTITUDE—'
Felix closed his eyes. He didn't need the details. He knew. He saw this image before it happened. And he also knew…
'THERE'S MORE,' Herbie said.
Yes, there was more if his vision was to be believed.
Felix's hands curled into fists.
'ADDITIONAL CONFIRMATIONS: HARRY OSBORN — DECEASED, IMPACT SITE: NEW YORK CITY. ALEXANDER PIERCE — DECEASED, LOCATION: LONDON. PEPPER POTTS — DECEASED, LOCATION: TOKYO. ALL FOUND WITH SIMILAR TRAUMA PATTERNS. SAME SIGNATURE AS YOUR TELEPORTATION EVENT.'
The world seemed to quiet. Even the sirens faded into background static.
Four names. Four dead.
More to come.
Spider-Man's gaze lifted toward the stars, the same sky that had ripped open and dropped them here. More names were being read out. Every single person that was there at the auction was being reported dead.
It took seven minutes for Herbie to be finished. In total, seventy-two people were dead from this strange, impossible mass falling.
All these people...they were murdered by the mastermind. The Auction Master who teleported everyone in the auction as his special event.
For once, Spider-Man was at a complete loss. He couldn't save anyone today.