"Earpieces?"
"Check."
"Your little 3D printer thingie?"
"Also check."
"I got my guns and knives and everything. Should be able to keep them with me when I change."
This was it. Yelena was double-checking that everything was where it was supposed to be. It was.
The jet's ramp opened.
The jet's interior lights turned off, leaving only the dull red glow of instrument panels. Felix stood at the open ramp, keeping himself upright with a bar. The night screamed screaming past the aircraft and clawing at his jacket. He had a helmet on.
Yelena stood opposite Felix, geared up like him, save for the helmet. She looked completely at ease, like this was just another unpleasant chore.
Herbie's voice murmured through Felix's earpiece. "DROP ZONE CONFIRMED. TARGET VESSEL HOLDING POSITION. SIGNAL MATCHES PREVIOUS TRIANGULATION."
Felix glanced down. The ocean was invisible, a vast black sheet. The shimmer of moonlight? Please. Not in the ocean. Not here. It was completely totally invisible to the naked eye. No wonder the satellites couldn't find it. Why there was such certainty no one would find it.
Somewhere down there, a single boat floated in the dark, broadcasting the coded signal that told a certain submarine when and where to surface.
"We're really doing this," Felix said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.
Yelena smirked. "You're the one who wanted this!"
"Still, this is crazy! I hired you guys for a reason!"
She clipped her helmet on and leaned closer. "Relax. You're with a professional. And you mentioned you skydived before."
"For fun! And with a different kind of professional!"
"You'll be fine."
Yeah, he would. Felix had to keep pretending he was a scientist. Capable, sure, but skydiving like it was nothing? He had to be at least slightly realistic. He snorted nervously, heaved, and pulled his own goggles down. "Okay, okay. Let's just…let's do this."
The light near the ramp flipped from red to green.
Yelena counted down. "Three—"
"Wait, are we doing three-two-one-go or like—"
"When I get to one."
"Got it, got it."
Yelena snorted and initiated the count again. "Three, two…one!"
Yelena ran ahead, Felix followed, and together they leapt off the jet. Admittedly, Felix jumped a heartbeat after.
The cold hit him like a wall. Air tore at his limbs, pressure roaring in his ears as gravity took over. For a moment there was nothing but falling—no horizon, no sense of direction—just the scream of wind and the whisper of the ocean rushing up to meet him.
Which he was all used to. His arms flattened on his sides and he instinctively wanted to deploy his Symbiote suite and the web-wings.
"Follow my lead!" said Yelena. Both of them were wearing night-vision goggles. Initially, there was nothing but black, and then slowly a tiny triangle. Said rectangle resolved into the silhouette of a ship.
Felix adjusted his angle and followed Yelena. She was already ahead of him, a darker shape against a darker sky. Falling, falling, falling….
They deployed their chutes late. Very late.
The boat rushed up at them out of the dark: a large civilian freighter, long and broad, designed for bulk cargo rather than speed. It rode low in the water, its deck cluttered with stacked containers and cranes frozen in place. No bright running lights, just minimal illumination.
'Definitely the supply ship…!'
'As looong as we are away from the water.'
'Oh, calm down, Rash. We're touching the boat, not the water.'
'Stiiilll….!'
Nobody noticed them with their black parachutes. Not to mention there weren't many people managing this ship in the first place. They were perfectly disguised in order to merge with the black of night. The timing worked against SHIELD here. Felix hit the empty side hall hard, rolled, and came up in a crouch. The parachute sucked itself back inside his bag. Yelena landed a second later but smoother. The parachute sucked itself back in. The night swallowed the sound.
They pressed against the walls and peeked over at the main deck. Felix and Yelena had essentially come from behind. This wasn't a huge boat run by a hundred people either. It was minimal and sailors drove it forward. Genuine sailors.
Meaning…
"Think they'll give us a bonus this time around?"
"Nahhh, doubt it. Think about it, it's government money. They like to be simple and clean."
"Yeah, you're right, you're right."
Voices carried from the main deck. Two men, by the sound of it. Relaxed and laughing about their payment. This confirmed one thing: the people on this boat were ordinary citizens wanting cash.
'What a risky strategy.'
But well-worthwhile, it seemed.
"Two targets," he whispered.
Yelena was up front and her head peeked out. "I see them."
They advanced along the shadow of a container stack. Somewhere below, engines thrummed steadily, the ship holding position as instructed.
The two sailors stood near a crane control panel, backs half-turned, one holding a mug.
Yelena nodded at him. "Gonna strike. I'll take them both."
"Right."
"And you go for the uniforms. There's probably some sort of closet here with backup sailor fits."
"Got it."
So yeah, that was Felix's job.
"Don't get caught," was the last thing Yelena said before sneaking out of the shadows, grabbed the first man by the collar, and drove her elbow into his throat with surgical precision. He went down without a sound. The second had just enough time to turn before Yelena was on him, fist slamming into his solar plexus and then clamping a hand over his mouth. The man folded, eyes wide, air rushing out in a silent gasp before consciousness followed.
Welp. she was already done.
For Felix, finding the closet wasn't difficult at all. Yelena went forward into the main deck, he went the opposite direction. He opened the first and chuckled when he saw the happiest coincidence tonight. An open closet with several pairs of black sailor fits. He snatched two of them and ran back to Yelena.
The blonde was busy dragging both bodies behind the containers. She worked fast. "If only we had chairs, I could make this look more natural. Oh well, we don't have time."
She turned. Felix tossed her the jacket and cap. "Might be a loose fit for you."
Yelena was already shrugging into the stolen uniform. "No one looks closely in the dark. It'll be fine."
The uniforms were black, intentionally so. Still, they were sailor fits with a white hat and tie. The pants and long-sleeve shirt were pitch-black. They stashed the unconscious sailors and stepped back out just as the water beside the ship began to churn. Felix felt it before he saw it—the low, vibrating hum that traveled up through the hull and into his bones.
Then the ocean split and a massive, dark shape rose from the depths, water cascading off its curved hull like rain off a mountain. The Astute-class submarine surfaced. It was here at long last…! Excellent!
Even knowing what it was, Felix felt a flicker of awe. The submarine was enormous—nearly a hundred meters long, its hull smooth and matte, designed to absorb sound and light. This was modern, efficient, built to stay hidden and lethal in equal measure. Nuclear-powered, capable of staying submerged for months, carrying torpedoes and cruise missiles—and tonight, playing the unglamorous role of delivery truck.
"Looks like a nuclear warhead," Felix murmured to Yelena, leaning over. She nodded.
A hatch on the submarine's sail cracked open with a hydraulic hiss.
A head emerged first, then shoulders—dark uniform, pale face washed green by the deck lights. The officer scanned the freighter with practiced suspicion before his gaze locked onto Felix and Yelena.
"Identify yourselves," he called out, voice amplified slightly by the acoustics of steel and water. "Transmit the code."
Felix felt his stomach drop.
A code?
Of course there was a code. Of course there was always a code. He had planned for forged letters, uniforms, timing windows, personnel rotations—he had not, at any point, imagined that someone would simply ask for a spoken phrase like it was a speakeasy in the forties.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
For half a second, his brain scrambled uselessly, flipping through contingencies that didn't exist. He could feel Rash stir, uneasy, like a cat sensing a storm.
"Seahorse–Delta–Nine—"
Yelena! Oh, thank fucking god he brought her!
"Secondary verification is Ironwake."
The officer blinked. Felix tried not to blink. Thank god it was so dark.
The man glanced over his shoulder, murmured something to someone inside the sail, then looked back at them. His posture eased by a fraction.
"Confirmed," he said. "You're on time."
Yelena shrugged. "Currents were kind."
Felix forced himself to nod along, heart still hammering. He had no idea whether she'd pulled that code from memory, instinct, or sheer divine luck—but judging by the way she didn't even look at him, this was muscle memory. Government muscle memory.
The officer keyed something on his wrist. The submarine shifted slightly, massive bulk rolling with deceptive grace. Along its starboard side, a recessed panel slid open, revealing a loading aperture ringed with industrial lights. A narrow platform extended outward, locking into position beside the freighter.
"Only two of you?"
"Yes."
A total of twenty men ran out of the submarine. In a matter of minutes, they picked inventory up and put them back inside. It was very quick, very fast. Some of them tried to loiter and get the fresh air but were reprimanded by the older officer.
Once they were done, Yelena Felix followed her forward.
Up close, the Astute-class submarine was blacker and more nuclear warhead-esque. It was like a predator of a machine.
Two submariners waited at the loading platform. Both wore Royal Navy working uniforms, dark blue with rank tabs on the shoulders. One was older, graying at the temples, eyes sharp and tired. The other looked barely thirty, broad-shouldered, with the posture of someone who trusted procedures more than people.
The older one looked Yelena up and down as she stepped onto the platform. "You weren't here last run."
Yelena was a woman. If it was two guys, they probably wouldn't have notice. The spy didn't miss a beat. "Wasn't assigned last run."
He grunted, then glanced at Felix. "And you?"
"Same," Felix said, keeping his voice even. "Rotation change."
The younger submariner frowned slightly. "We weren't informed of—"
Yelena cut in smoothly, already reaching into her jacket. "You were informed. Just not by your usual channels."
She handed over the letter.
It was heavy stock, off-white, with a SHIELD letterhead that was just slightly too crisp—Felix's printer had done good work. The signature at the bottom was unmistakable: Nick Fury. Bold, slightly slanted, like the man himself had been annoyed while writing it.
The older submariner took it, eyes narrowing as he read. His jaw tightened.
"Inspection?" he said. "This is new."
Yelena tilted her head. "So is the Director."
That earned her their full attention.
"You do know Nick Fury is in charge," she added mildly. "Director after Peggy Carter's death. He wants to re-confirm everything is going as smoothly as anticipated."
The two submariners exchanged a look.
They did know that. Everyone in the loop did.
The younger man cleared his throat. "We'll need to confirm this with command."
"Of course," Yelena said, stepping back slightly. "Take your time."
The older officer hesitated, then nodded. "Wait here."
They disappeared back into the submarine, the hatch sealing behind them.
Felix let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"That code," he whispered. "Was that—"
"Standard," Yelena murmured back. "They rotate between two in this sector. Could've guessed and had a one in third chance chance."
"That's…well, thank god you saved this mission."
'Otherwise, I would have had to knock you and attack everyone here. Not ideal. Not ideal at all.'
'Very luckkky. You should thank this woman profusely. Very profuuussellly!'
Agreed.
Minutes stretched.
Felix's gaze drifted back to the freighter, to the dark water beyond. Somewhere beneath them, the abyss waited. Somewhere far away, M'Baku was preparing to dive into something even worse. Somewhere deeper still, Cindy Moon sat in a cell Felix now knew how to reach.
Herbie's voice came quietly into his ear. "SIGNAL INTERCEPTED. COMMUNICATION ROUTED. VOICE MATCH CONFIRMED."
Felix didn't move.
Five minutes later, the hatch opened again.
The older submariner stepped out first, expression unreadable. He handed the letter back to Yelena.
"All right," he said. "Inspection approved. You'll be escorted. Don't touch anything you're not cleared for."
Yelena accepted the letter, tucking it away. "Excuse me, but that is my job. I know my stuff. I'm not an amateur."
"...yes, of course."
The younger man glanced at Felix. "You ever been aboard an Astute before?"
Felix shook his head. "Repaired them but never been in one while it was deployed."
"I see," the young man said. He stepped aside as the hatch cycled fully open, metal seals retracting with a muted hydraulic sigh. Beyond it lay the submarine's interior: tight and steel-lit. Kind of uncomfortable looking. Not to be claustrophobic but Felix was suddenly glad he never wanted to be apart of the navy.
"Then you should be fine."
Yelena entered first and Felix followed half a step behind her, crossing the threshold into the submarine and feeling the shift immediately. Rash already did not like it. The floor vibrated subtly underfoot, not enough for a normal person to notice but definitely enough for Felix. Every step reminded him (and Rash) that this entire structure was floating on water.
The hatch sealed behind them with a final, heavy thunk.
'Goooodd. We are going to die.'
'Calm down! Seriously, Rash! We'll be fine!'
They were sinking into the water, he could tell. Rash did not like and retreated deep, deep inside. To compensate, Felix pulled out a small black case from his pocket, opened it up, and put on the Advanced Glasses.
"Need for reading," Felix told the guys behind him sheepishly.
"Right," the older officer said and pointed down the corridor. "We'll start with the forward compartments. Standard route, unless you have another pathway?"
Yelena inclined her head. "Please, lead the way."
Yelena and Felix let the two get ahead of them. Phew. The corridors were narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass without turning sideways. Everything seemed…functional. Pipes labeled in neat stenciling, bundled cables secured with metal clamps, emergency valves painted a utilitarian red. Nothing decorative. Nothing wasted.
"This section houses crew berths," the officer explained, pointing as they passed an open hatch. Inside, bunks were stacked three high, each with a thin mattress and a restrained net to keep the occupant from drifting during sharp maneuvers. Lockers were built into the walls, compact and uniform. It was pretty fascinating. As a kid, he might have liked this. As an adult..
Ugh, Rash was really rubbing off on him.
"No hot-bunking on Astute-class," the older officer added, not without a hint of pride. "Everyone gets their own rack."
"Good," Yelena said. "Modernizing is important."
Felix nodded, eyes flicking over the layout. No cameras or anything like that. Thank goodness. But for optics sake, they went inside and spent a good ten minutes inspecting every nook and cranny.
'Nggghh. I bet we are so deep in the water now…'
'Probably.' Pause. 'Definitely.'
After twenty minutes of useless inspections, they went out and continued aft. They went through another area, a cafeteria with long tables bolted to the floor and bench seating worn smooth by years of use. Waste half an hour of time there and then waste a good ten minutes in another section in a galley no bigger than a walk-in closet. Oh, and more time wasting in the kitchen area.
"Pretending to be inspectors is hard work," Felix murmured to Yelena while they checked out the supplies that had been brought from their boat. It was in a huge area that was filled with boxes. Yelena cleared her throat to show she agreed.
"Resupplies went well obviously," Yelena remarked loudly for the sake of the two watching them, glancing at inventory tags. "How would you bring us to the control room next?"
"Are you sure, sir," the younger submariner said quickly.
Felix let his gaze linger just long enough to be convincing. "We already checked the refrigeration units. They're holding stable. And right now…" He looked at his watch. Yes, he brought one. "It's been fifty minutes since we've been here. I'm sure we're still diving, aren't we?"
"Yes, sir."
It took hours to reach the level of depth needed for the prison, for example.
"Good. Then allow us to check the control room."
The control room was so stereotypical in appearance that it was borderline offensive. The beep-boops and the consoles and the computers. Everything was what he expected. Displays glowing in cool blues and greens, sonar returns rippling like abstract art across one screen while navigation data scrolled endlessly across another.
This was the brain.
Officers sat shoulder to shoulder in high-backed chairs, headsets on. All that jazz. Orders were murmured, acknowledged, executed. He'd been in labs with more dangerous equipment, but this…this felt different. If something went wrong here, there was no running. No improvising. Just pressure, steel, and the ocean.
The senior officer gestured them in. "Control room," he said. "Please don't walk too deeply. You can observe from here." He pointed.
Yelena went where he pointed to immediately, posture straight, expression focused. She scanned the room with fakeness. Felix followed, keeping his hands visible, his gaze curious but restrained. He felt Rash stir faintly, uneasy but quiet.
'Don't think about the water. Don't think about the water.'
"Navigation steady," one officer reported.
"Reactor stable," another said.
"Sonar passive."
Yelena nodded as if these words meant something deeply personal to her. "Depth progression?" she asked.
The officer nearest her checked a readout. "Gradual descent. We won't reach transfer depth for another… two hours, give or take."
Felix latched onto that. "Right, for the resupply right?
"Yes," the officer said, then paused, realizing he'd said more than necessary. He recovered quickly. "Standard procedure."
Felix rolled his eyes. Time to be dramatic. "We are from SHIELD. We know the supplies we have are for the prison."
There was some tension and grimaces. The two from before entered their frey and explained to them that these were the inspectors from the Director. Whatever tension there was dissipated.
Yelena met the officer's gaze evenly. "How long does the transfer usually take?"
"Once docked?" the younger submariner answered. "Forty minutes. Maybe an hour. Depends on conditions."
"And personnel?" Yelena asked. "Who handles the delivery on your end?"
The officers exchanged a look. This wasn't classified—but it was close enough to feel uncomfortable.
"Two crew members," the senior officer said. "Rotated each time. Minimizes exposure."
Yelena nodded approvingly. "Good practice. Which two tonight?"
The younger officer pointed without hesitation. "Petty Officer Harris. And Collins."
Felix clocked their faces instantly. Burned them into memory.
"Excellent," Yelena said. "We'll want to observe that process later. For compliance."
"Of course."
Felix glanced at another screen, then back at the officer. "Before that—your sonar calibration logs. I noticed a minor discrepancy during the last update."
The officer leaned closer, distracted. "Where?"
And just like that, the subject changed.
***
An hour passed. Felix was passing as an inspector. He was to stay here for the supply to the prison and then be brought back up to the surface to be picked by the boat. None of these people realized there was no boating waiting for them nor did they plan to stay here.
Felix was alone in a bathroom barely larger than a closet. Excusing himself was probably the easiest thing he had done today.
The submarine was never quiet for him. When the parasite inside you was scared of water and you had super senses, it was like being caged. A single mirror reflected a man who looked calm. Key word: looked calm.
The Advanced Glasses sat on his face, dark lenses hiding eyes flicking rapidly back and forth as data crawled across his vision.
"Come on," he whispered.
Herbie's voice crackled faintly in his ear, weaker than usual, strained by steel, depth, and distance. "SIGNAL… PARTIAL… RECEIVING…"
Felix held his breath. "Come on, M'Baku…come on…"
"METADATA CONFIRMED," Herbie said. "WHITE CARD CREATION PROTOCOL. COMPLETE."
Wait…
"Nice!" He leapt to his feet and let out a loud, "Phew! Thank god."
He didn't waste a second.
He turned his wrist and tugged on his sleeves. The compact housing of his web-shooter slid open. The filament inside wasn't plastic or resin, but a layered composite tuned exactly to SHIELD's card specifications.
Data streamed directly from the glasses into the printer.
Layer by layer, the White Card took shape in his left hand. The printing was like the formation of webbing. It really was.
Felix watched it finish, pulse steadying only when the final layer sealed and the printer retracted.
He had it. From his left pocket, he took out the Black Card. In his left hand, the White Card.
Both.
The door slammed open.
Felix wasn't surprised. He smiled. "Yelena!"
Two bodies were tossed inside unceremoniously, hitting the floor with dull thuds. Harris and Collins. Yelena stepped in after them and locked the door.
"Yeah, yeah, I got them. No time to waste though," she said. She reached up and, without hesitation, pulled a knife from her sleeve.
Felix blinked. "Wait—"
She hacked her own hair off in brutal strokes. Blonde strands fell to the floor. She wiped her face, then pulled out a compact kit and went to work: darkening her brow, roughening her features, reshaping her silhouette.
"Err…"
"I was hoping luck would be on our side. One guy, one girl would have been great. But nope." She grunted and kept applying make-up. "I'll have to pretend to be a guy."
In under two minutes, she looked like a different person. Not a woman pretending to be a man, just another crew member you wouldn't look at twice. She cleared her throat and deepened it. "Do I sound good?"
Woah. She very much sounded like a dude. "Wow! Y-yeah, that's perfect!"
Felix showed her the White Card.
She slipped it into her pocket. "So M'Baku made it? Good timing."
A chime echoed faintly through the submarine.
"Docking in ten minutes," a voice announced over the intercom.
Yelena and Felix exchanged looks and smiled. They moved.
They took position outside the control room as the submarine eased into its docking sequence. Felix leaned casually against the wall, head tilted as if listening.
Inside the control room, the voices were murmuring. They were doing procedures and checklists. They were also likely anticipating Harris and Collins to be in position already.
The moment the docking clamps engaged, Yelena acted. She cracked the door open just enough to roll a small canister inside.
Hiss!
Sleep gas bloomed silently, invisible, fast-acting.
Felix counted under his breath. 'Twenty seconds and it should be fine…'
They waited. There was no resistance. No one dramatically slamming the door asking to be let out. Lady luck was on their side right now.
Yelena pushed the door open fully. Every officer was slumped in their chair or collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
She moved fast, locking the door from the inside, overriding the panel.
"Alright, everything is going smoothly so far…" Yelena murmured. She flicked up at Felix. "You ready, doctor?"
"Yeah. Let's get going."
They exited the control room area and headed toward the side hatch. The submarine shuddered. The prison was probably adding their own latches. Cling! Cling! Metal clanged loudly. Felix could no longer feel any vibrations. Everything was still.
As they arrived at the large space for the side hatch, a couple crew members were placing the last crates. They saw Felix and Yelena coming and saluted them. There was a pause when they squinted. "Apologies, but weren't Harris and—"
"We've been sent to replace them," Yelena said. "Orders from above."
"Yes, sirs! All crates have been placed!" They took five steps backward. "We will be sealing this area now! Good luck!"
Felix and Yelena saluted back. They kept saluting even as the two crew members pulled on a lever and the metallic walls came down around them. It was a ten by ten area. They were alone too.
The hatch started to open up and there was a deep, resonant groan. Metal sliding against metal, seals disengaging one by one. A cold breath of air rushed in, different from the recycled atmosphere of the submarine. Drier. Sharper. It smelled a bit like disinfectant.
Light flooded the chamber.
Harsh, industrial white—overhead arrays snapping on in sequence, illuminating a vast, cavernous space beyond the hatch. The submarine's side bay yawned open onto a massive docking hall, far larger than Felix had expected. Thick cables ran along the ceiling like veins. Yellow hazard lines marked the floor.
Before Felix could take another step, his Spider-Sense went off and rifles came up.
At least a dozen armed personnel were already positioned in a semicircle beyond the threshold, their weapons trained squarely on Felix and Yelena. Black tactical uniforms. No insignia beyond minimalist SHIELD patches. Helmets with opaque visors that gave nothing away.
Behind them, automated turrets sat recessed in the walls, tracking silently.
Yelena didn't flinch.
Felix felt Rash snap into action in his mind. Felix kept his posture relaxed, hands visible, exactly where they expected them to be. 'Calm down, Rash. We'll be fine.'
"Identification," a SHIELD soldier asked.
Felix already had the Black Card in his wrist. He lifted a hand.
"Supply transfer," Felix said evenly.
One of the guards stepped forward, weapon still trained, and took the card with two fingers. He slid it into a handheld scanner.
A beat. The scanner chimed. Green.
The guard nodded once and handed it back. "Confirmed."
Two others moved immediately, although not toward Felix and Yelena, but toward the crates. They started popping seals and lifting lids just enough to verify contents. Felix watched from the corner of his eye as gloved hands rifled through medical packs, sealed containers, labeled modules.
'Nick Fury really isn't dicking around. The security for all this…'
The crates were closed again.
"All accounted for," one guard reported.
The rifles lowered. The tension in the room shifted.
The supervisor at the rear—older, broader, clearly in charge—made a short, decisive gesture with his hand.
"Proceed," the supervisor said. "Unload. That is your only job. You have twenty minutes."
Yelena grabbed the handle of the nearest crate without hesitation. She got to work. So did Felix. Grabbing a box, hands closing, and picking it up from the submarine and into the prison.
This was all they were supposed to do. Put the boxes inside.
As he crossed the threshold though, something settled in his chest.
'I'm here.
Somewhere beyond these walls, beyond the layers of steel and guns and protocols, Cindy Moon was breathing the same recycled air.
He kept his face neutral. He put down the first box. The yellow lines on the floor weren't for show. They indicated how far they were allowed here. This entire room, this entire, that was all. The door at the end of this room though? That was not within their parameters to touch.
Like it mattered.
The point was—he was here.
Cindy Moon was here.
A long, long time ago, she had wormed a spy into Oscorp Tower. She caused mayhem without anyone realizing how or why or who.
He smiled a little.
'Looks like the script's flipped, Cindy.'