Author's Note:
I can say I'm happy: I managed to do something I've wanted to do for almost 17 years. I found Megas XLR, my first mecha cartoon, streaming in a language I understand and with both seasons.
The funny part is that I found it by chance; in the past, I used to search for it and find at most three or four episodes, or the whole series in English without subtitles.
I really have to thank my brother: he asked me to find Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake, I found it, watched both seasons, then browsed the site's catalog and discovered a gem from my childhood.
I was so happy that I started watching Power Rangers in Space to find further sci-fi inspiration. Naturally, I added Star Trek too.
XXX
Story Arc: Out-of-Town Visitors
Episode 4: Dinners, Entertainment, and Cafés (III)
Chapter 16: End of the "Date"?
Plot: Welt manages to finish his evening with Origami; now Warlock can meet up with Spider-Man and go on a night patrol. Other people are also enjoying their evening.
XXX
POV Narrator
Origami and Welt had assembled about a sixth of the LEGO model of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
Under normal circumstances, thanks to their analytical minds and remarkable manual dexterity, they could have completed a much larger portion of the project, but they had deliberately chosen to take their time, letting the slow rhythm of snapping bricks together accompany a dense conversation on various topics.
Furthermore, Origami's injured and bandaged left hand noticeably slowed down her movements, making it difficult for her to hold the smaller components steady while trying to attach them with her right. Noticing her difficulty, Welt had come to her rescue without hesitation, offering her his manual support: he held the base structure of the ship steady while she snapped the bricks into place, or guided the pieces for her.
In that four-handed effort, their fingers had brushed, overlapped, and intertwined countless times on the wooden tabletop—a constant and discreet physical contact that the white-haired doctor had found deeply fulfilling, treasuring every single touch in her memory.
When the kitchen timer had finally announced that the food was done, the two had left the FUN-Room to head downstairs to the ground floor and enjoy a steaming lasagna freshly pulled from the oven. During dinner, between forkfuls, the conversation had flowed with surprising naturalness, ranging from the most unusual and stimulating moments they had experienced over the past few days to scientific speculations on the real possibility that NASA might one day design and build actual deep-space exploration starships inspired by Star Trek's Starfleet, before curiously digressing into the ancient historical origins of puzzles and mechanical brainteasers.
Once the meal was finished and the table cleared, Welt had suggested moving to the living room to watch a movie together. Origami had accepted instantly, without letting her enthusiasm show behind her usual stoic mask: the prospect of being able to sit next to him on the couch, resting her head on Welt's solid shoulder for ninety minutes or even more in the quiet of the evening, was a temptation far too alluring to pass up.
XXX
Origami was comfortably seated on the leather couch in the living room, while Welt was crouched in front of the TV stand, intently rummaging carefully inside a drawer.
Taking advantage of the moment, the white-haired doctor had slipped off her long lab coat, folding it neatly beside her, and had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white shirt with nimble fingers, revealing her neckline and the lacy trim of her white bra underneath. The official justification for that gesture was a slight feeling of warmth after eating the steaming, freshly baked lasagna. That was partly true, but her real goal, besides getting comfortable, was decidedly more strategic: to catch Welt's attention.
"Which movie do we want to watch tonight, one of the famous Ghostbusters or the latest hit, Street Fighter?" Welt asked, straightening his back and holding up two DVD cases to show his guest.
Origami silently weighed the two cinematic options: on one hand, a great sci-fi comedy classic; on the other, a new martial arts action flick.
"I'd rather watch the ghost hunters, I'm more familiar with them," Origami replied, already possessing a certain familiarity with the saga, having seen the first installments when she was younger and then rewatched them several times in the company of her aunt.
Welt nodded and set the case for the martial arts movie down on the stand.
"That leads to another question: which of the four Ghostbusters movies should we watch?" Welt asked, popping open the latch of the Ghostbusters box set and opening it toward her. Inside, four neatly arranged discs gleamed, yet an empty slot reserved for a fifth DVD stood out clearly.
"I'm no expert, but haven't there been five Ghostbusters movies? I see there's an empty space," Origami said, tilting her head slightly as her forensic eye immediately isolated that anomaly.
Welt contorted his face into a pronounced grimace, and for the first time in her life, Origami saw an expression of pure, authentic disgust wash over the usually affable bookseller's features.
"The 2016 Ghostbusters reboot was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life. When I got my hands on the DVD, I cut it in half with scissors, covered it in paint, and turned it into an amateur art project," Welt recounted in a grave tone, describing the fate he had reserved for the disc.
"That bad?" Origami asked, visibly surprised by the intensity of that emotional reaction.
"The idea of a gender-swapped reboot is cute—nothing new, though it has worked for some anime or those 'traveling to another dimension' kind of episodes," Welt explained, gesturing with his free hand as he drew from his mental archive of over a thousand works where similar dynamics occurred.
'I wonder what a world where I'm a man and Welt is a woman would be like?' Origami thought to herself, letting herself get carried away by an unprecedented fantasy that, until a few weeks prior, would never have crossed her mind.
Strangely, in the scientist's imagination, the figure of a tall, shy, and gentle female librarian, endowed with a decidedly ample bust, instantly took shape, being passionately courted by a handsome bishōnen with long white hair wearing a lab coat. A faint, almost imperceptible blush rose to Origami's pale cheeks, immediately accompanied by the firm resolution to start drawing that scene as soon as she returned to her apartment.
Welt could certainly be considered a positive and humanizing influence on the white-haired doctor, yet at the same time, he was awakening creative sides and urges in her that perhaps should have remained dormant.
"However, the all-female Ghostbusters has so many flaws, defects, poorly written characters, and nonsensical plotlines that, for the sake of my nerd heart, I pretend it never existed. As far as I'm concerned, there are only four Ghostbusters movies and a PS3 video game that is essentially the third movie of the original franchise," Welt continued, casting a quick, knowing glance toward a specific spot on his massive video game bookshelf.
"You're a true fan of the franchise," Origami commented, unaware until that moment of the existence of video game adaptations tied to the series.
"I'm not that big of a fanboy, though maybe for the next costume party or Halloween I'll dress up as one of the Ghostbusters. Maybe I'll try making a non-nuclear or prop version of the proton pack," Welt said, sharing out loud one of the many craft projects swirling around in his head for his free time.
"Then I'll dress up as a ghost," Origami said, letting a small, enigmatic smile slip onto her lips as the idea of a decidedly skimpy and provocative costume already took shape in her mind.
In that future "supernatural battle," the Ghostbuster would probably end up losing.
"That would be fun. Anyway, which movie should we pick? Should we start with the first one or skip straight to the first of the new generation?" Welt asked, stepping closer to the couch and holding out the open box set with the four DVDs toward Origami.
Origami's gaze swept over the glossy disc covers before raising her blue eyes back to him. "I already saw the first two movies years ago, but I've never seen the new ones," the scientist replied.
"Then I'm in luck, because Ghostbusters: Afterlife is my favorite movie in the franchise. I really think you'll like Phoebe Spengler's character," Welt said, lighting up with a spontaneous smile as he slid the third disc out of its case, ready to insert it into the player.
"Start the movie and sit here," Origami said, gently patting her uninjured hand on the black leather cushion right beside her—a silent yet firm invitation to close the distance and finally have him near.
XXX
Meanwhile, while Origami and Welt were immersed in watching the movie, at the marine-themed motel, the Neptune Inn, the two Daily Bugle reporters had just finished writing and sending their article on the afternoon's events to the New York editorial office, attaching the great photographs taken on location.
Laura Lane lay stretched out on her back on the blue bedspread of her room, finally wearing a real pair of cloth pants. A short distance away, Peter Parker sat on the chair in front of the wooden desk, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and a visibly exhausted expression.
"I much prefer being the photographer rather than the reporter who has to write the article," Peter said, raising a hand to slowly rub his fatigue-beaded forehead.
"I'm just happy I hit my quota for today, and I have to thank you for helping me write it. Without you, I probably would have finished at midnight," Laura said, turning her head on the pillow to give him a sincere look of gratitude.
"I thought you were mostly happy about finally getting those slime pants off," Peter countered, letting an amused half-smile slip onto his lips.
Laura blushed instantly. The very moment she had crossed the threshold of the motel, her first action had been to dash under the scalding jet of the shower. The purple slime had dissolved in the running water just as Black Warlock had promised, yet an annoying sensation of imaginary stickiness had lingered in her mind, driving her to stay under the water for a full hour just to feel completely clean again.
"Don't talk to anyone about the slime-pants thing," Laura ordered, partially hiding her face in her hands at the mere memory of such an embarrassing scene.
"Didn't Charlotte snap a photo of you, only to almost certainly post it on her blog?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Darn it, you're right! I really hope none of my acquaintances see it," Laura murmured, desperately wishing to erase that episode from collective memory.
With an agile leap, the Daily Bugle journalist pulled herself up to a sitting position and sprang to her feet beside the bed, stretching her arms.
"I've decided that, after today's absurd day, I'm going out on the town and calling one of the college guys. They gave me their number for a reason," Laura announced, her eyes sparkling at the thought of treating herself to an evening of pure fun.
"Do you want me to come with you? I mean, we're new in this city, and going out at night with a stranger isn't the safest thing in the world," Peter offered, straightening his back in the chair with a hint of genuine apprehension for his colleague.
"I appreciate the concern, but I'm a grown woman and I know how to take care of myself. I just want to dance, grab a drink, and maybe have some fun with a pretty face," Laura replied, flashing a lively, confident smirk.
"Just be careful. If you feel like you notice anything suspicious, don't hesitate to give me a call," Peter said, standing up from the chair and trying not to sound overbearing, simply offering his availability.
"You sound just like my older brother, Luke. He always used that exact same tone too," Laura commented with a sweet, affectionate smile.
"You have a brother?" Peter asked, caught off guard, though not entirely. After all, he had known Laura for less than forty-eight hours.
"Yes, Luke is six years older than me. He followed the example of Grandpa Samuel and Mom, and enlisted in the Navy," Laura explained, as a bittersweet shadow briefly crossed her gaze.
"Are you feeling okay?" Peter asked, immediately catching that sudden shift in the girl's body language.
"Nothing serious, really. It's just that having a general for a grandfather, a JAG Corps major for a mother, and a brother in the Marines always comes with heavy expectations and certain difficulties. But I have a loving father, fantastic grandparents, and Aunt Lois and Uncle Clark have always been very kind to me," Laura replied, shaking off the melancholy and returning to a sincere smile.
"I think it's best if I head back to my room," Peter said, taking a step toward the door to avoid accidentally touching on any other sensitive subjects.
"Yeah, good idea. I need to change my clothes, put on some makeup, and get ready," Laura agreed, already heading over to her open suitcase to pick out a seductive outfit.
"Try not to stay out too late and don't have too much fun; you have an important interview with a female detective tomorrow morning," Peter reminded her, resting his hand on the doorknob.
"You know, maybe you should go out tonight too. Find yourself a cute girl and have a good night," Laura suggested, turning toward him with a knowing look.
"I'll give it a shot. Worst-case scenario, I'll take a long walk and see what this city has to offer at night," Peter replied, seizing the perfect setup to justify his evening absence. In just a few hours, Spider-Man actually had a scheduled meetup with Black Warlock.
"Maybe this will come in handy," Laura said. She rummaged quickly into the inner pocket of her luggage, pulled out a small square packet, and tossed it accurately across the room toward him.
Peter caught it mid-air with his superhuman reflexes, lowering his gaze to his open palm. "A condom?!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"Just because we're going into town to have fun doesn't mean we have to be irresponsible," Laura replied with total naturalness, determined to avoid any unwanted surprises during her night out.
"Thanks... I guess," Peter stammered, his cheeks flushing with a bright, embarrassed red, before opening the door and quickly slipping away toward his own room.
XXX
Returning to Welt's house, one hundred and fifteen minutes—or one hour and fifty-five minutes to be exact—had now passed.
On the television screen, the end credits had begun to roll, accompanied by the closing soundtrack that marked the conclusion of the movie for that evening. On the black leather couch, Origami was still lying with her head resting on Welt's shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around the young man's right arm, and her legs crossed, her thighs pressed firmly against each other. In short, Origami was literally glued to the bookseller's side.
"Did you enjoy the movie?" Welt asked, making a slight movement with his torso in an attempt to stand up, only to immediately realize he was firmly locked in Origami's silent grip. It looked in every way like the scene of a lioness keeping a dog securely within reach of her fangs and claws.
"Yes, I have to admit I understand why it's your favorite movie. The protagonist, Phoebe Spengler, is a good protagonist," Origami replied calmly. Despite the physical closeness, she hadn't dedicated two hours of her life solely to clinging to Welt: she had followed the plot attentively, exchanging several analytical observations with him about what was happening on screen.
"I really liked how the story was built: going to a remote town to receive an inheritance from an unknown grandfather, discovering secret laboratories, ancient ruins, and everything else," Welt recounted, listing the adventurous elements that had struck him the most.
"I preferred the technology shown and the chase scenes with the Ectomobile," Origami said. Beyond pure cinematic entertainment, watching it had just provided her with a couple of great technical insights for her secret projects.
With a fluid movement, the white-haired doctor pulled back slightly, loosening her grip and finally freeing Welt's arm.
"The Ectomobile is a marvel. If I had a driver's license, I'd buy a car like that or restore one from scratch—it would be a great weekend pastime," Welt said, raising his hands in mid-air and rotating his wrists to enthusiastically mimic driving behind an imaginary steering wheel.
"Really? You had never shown such a strong interest in cars before," Origami observed, tilting her head slightly and mentally recording that new piece of data in her private archive. Coming to his house and spending the entire evening together was proving to be the best strategic move: it had allowed her to make significant progress and gather a valuable amount of new information about him.
"The Ectomobile, a.k.a. a 1959 Cadillac Miller-Meteor, is fourth on the list of dream cars I'd love to own," Welt declared, holding up four fingers on his right hand.
"You have a list? Could you tell me what's on it?" Origami asked, leaning slightly toward him with genuine forensic curiosity.
"In first place is the 1970 Plymouth Barracuda from Megas XLR; in second place, the 1967 Chevrolet Impala from Supernatural; in third place, the Chevrolet Camaro Concept from Transformers; in fourth place, the 1959 Cadillac Miller-Meteor from Ghostbusters; and in fifth place, the 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 from Back to the Future," Welt listed with nerd pride, rattling off his five favorite iconic vehicles.
'Didn't my aunt have an old friend who knows a great deal about engines and vintage restorations?' Origami immediately thought, making a mental note to make a phone call in the coming days.
Welt cast a quick glance at the digital clock mounted on the wall, noting with an internal start that it was only a few minutes before eight in the evening. 'I should have told Spider-Man to meet at ten, but back then I wasn't thinking about Origami at all, nor would I have ever imagined she'd spend the entire evening at my place,' the bookseller reflected, deeply detesting the idea of arriving late to a scheduled appointment.
At that exact moment, Welt found himself facing one of the classic and most ruthless dilemmas of a superhero's life: stay warm indoors in the company of a gorgeous woman with an unbuttoned shirt, or sneak out into the night to meet a man in tights on top of a clock tower.
"Now that the movie is over, what should we do?" Origami asked. With studied slowness, the young woman leaned forward on the couch, angling her torso so that the opening of her white shirt gaped slightly, making it impossible for Welt not to catch sight of the delicate fabric of her white bra underneath.
The bookseller blushed instantly and abruptly averted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the clock face as if those hands could offer him a saving grace.
'Welt is attracted to me, I know it,' Origami thought, feeling her heart start hammering hard against her ribs again. The lioness's repressed hunger was surging back to the surface, and the iron self-control the scientist had painstakingly maintained over the past few hours was beginning to crack.
'We are compatible, and this evening proves it. Both of us are characterized by high intelligence that stimulates and improves one another. Welt sparks my creativity and notices my small mistakes. I want him,' Origami thought, gaining absolute determination in her choices, even the boldest and most questionable ones. The lioness's invisible claws were about to come out into the open.
'If it were merely an intellectual affinity, I would want him as a lab assistant, not as a lover and later a husband. No, there is a strong physical attraction: I like his scent, and I adore the color of his eyes,' Origami continued in her thoughts, staring intensely at Welt's blue irises behind the lenses of his glasses. The lioness now had her prey locked in her sights.
'Above all, I adore his kindness and his human warmth. I should detest the fact that his presence distracts me from my mission, yet the feelings I experience make me feel infinitely lighter,' Origami concluded, flashing back through all the small and grand courtesies Welt had shown her up to that moment.
The lioness tensed her muscles, ready to pounce definitively upon her prey. Too bad that, in that exact millisecond, the dog had stopped hesitating and had already made his decision.
"Origami, I would love to find out how this evening continues," Welt said in a low, controlled voice, leaning forward toward the doctor's face as if he were about to kiss her in return, "...but, Sleep."
From Welt's parted lips issued a thin, impalpable cloud of bluish mist, hitting Origami squarely in the face before she could even blink. The last word spoken by the young man was not an incomplete sentence, but rather the silent activation of a simple and completely harmless spell, designed to instantly induce a state of deep rest in the target.
Struck at such close range, Origami's brilliant mind shut down in the blink of an eye: her eyelids closed heavily and her body slumped forward, falling fast asleep directly against Welt's chest, just as if she had swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.
"I'm sorry about this, Origami, but this is the most harmless way for you," Welt said softly, tracing a small magic circle in the air with the tip of his index finger. Immediately, Origami's relaxed body lifted off the couch, beginning to float gracefully in mid-air. Welt made a few slow, calibrated hand movements, guiding the suspended "Sleeping Beauty" so that she assumed a stretched-out, natural posture, just as if she were already resting on a mattress.
"Couldn't you have just used hypnosis on Origami? You could have sent her to sleep in the guest room on her own two feet and, just to be safe, altered her memories of the last few minutes," Sora suggested from his breast pocket, well aware that mental manipulation was the basic trick every practitioner of the arcane arts learned and used constantly, often as a quick alternative to eliminating witnesses.
"Using hypnosis on strangers to protect my identity is one thing; using it on someone I know and care about is completely different," Welt replied firmly, having not the slightest intention of violating or influencing the mind of any of his female friends or acquaintances. The mere thought made him feel dirty.
"Erasing or altering the memory of the last few minutes causes no harmful effects whatsoever, neither long-term nor short-term," Sora commented, vouching for the clinical safety of the procedure.
"I still don't like it. It feels like the classic first step that slowly leads toward evil: first you erase the last few minutes, then you alter the events you don't like, and one day you find yourself holding an empty doll instead of a person," Welt said, letting a shiver run down his spine at the mere prospect of such moral "corruption."
"To do something like that, you would have to tie the target to a chair and carry out a long, meticulous process that can take days or even weeks, unless you are an absolute master of mental magic," Sora countered, completely certain that Welt possessed neither the ruthless character nor the practical skills to go that far.
"I prefer to rely on the sleep spell and telekinesis," Welt cut him short, heading toward the stairs while guiding the doctor's floating body toward the upper floor with a flick of his fingers, determined to settle her into the guest room before heading out to meet Spider-Man.
"I understand why you used sleep, but why bother with telekinesis? Origami is petite and light; you could carry her in your arms effortlessly," Sora asked, curious.
"I prefer to avoid putting my hands on a sleeping or defenseless woman," Welt replied, asserting a strictly ethical choice.
"You have your rigid moralistic values, yet you wouldn't mind at all reaching a hand out to Origami's breasts or rear. I saw perfectly well how you were peeking at her out of the corner of your eye during the movie," Sora teased him, having observed every single detail with ruthless precision.
While walking up the wooden steps, flanked by the female scientist floating serenely beside him, Welt's face suddenly turned bright red: Sora had hit the nail on the head.
"I'm a straight man and Origami is a gorgeous woman. I feel desires just like anyone else, but I'm good at keeping them confined inside my head and not indulging them," Welt justified himself, actively forcing himself to keep his gaze fixed straight ahead so it wouldn't drop to the neckline of the doctor's unbuttoned shirt.
"Master, I'm not telling you to give up your values or your morality. But you should use your head a little less and follow your instincts and impulses a bit more," Sora said, offering sincere advice.
Welt's gaze involuntarily slipped to Origami's parted lips; in his mind, the vivid memory of the aggressive kiss from four hours earlier resurfaced, and one part of him admitted to having intensely enjoyed that experience, while the other continued to feel guilty.
The bookseller shook his head sharply in an attempt to banish Origami from his thoughts, yet ironically, in her place immediately appeared the image of Lola, who in many ways represented the exact opposite of the doctor. The memory of Lola in her skimpy yellow bikini came back to torment him, immediately followed by curiosity about what her lips tasted like.
Welt shook his head vigorously once more, unconsciously mimicking the gesture of a dog trying to shake water off itself after a bath.
"Everything alright?" Sora asked, noticing that his Master was acting decidedly strange, even stranger than usual.
"Man is not truly one, but truly two... Within me, the man and the beast waged an incessant struggle," Welt recited under his breath, quoting Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde with a touch of bitter self-irony.
"Does that mean you're going to give Origami a goodnight kiss before heading out?" Sora asked in a tone thick with mischievous curiosity.
"No. It only means that, once tonight's patrol is over, I'll need to find a way to blow off steam: I have too many thoughts and too much pent-up energy in my body. Maybe I'll use the lake in the forest as a target to test out my most destructive spells," Welt replied, determined not to give the women in his life any more headspace for the night.
In less than a minute, they reached the guest room. With a fluid wave of his hand, Welt pulled back the bedcovers, gently lowered Origami onto the mattress, and finally tucked her in carefully right up to her chin.
"Done, now I can go. Maybe I'll leave a note on the living room table, something about having to rush out to handle an artistic emergency with Tesla Noceda," Welt murmured, pausing for a moment to observe Origami's relaxed face immersed in sleep. "She looks like an angel," the bookseller muttered softly, unaware of how wrong he was... though in a distant future, that word would take on a far more literal meaning.
"You know, you could easily leave the entire night patrol job to Spider-Man and stay right here to sleep with Origami. I don't think that would go against your moral code at all," Sora suggested, making one last attempt to give him a push.
"In theory that wouldn't be bad at all, but..." Welt watched Origami shift slightly in her sleep, rolling onto her side until she was hugging a pillow tightly to her chest; an intense, uncontrollable blush instantly flared across the young man's cheeks. "Damn hormonal fluctuations!"
Welt slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him before Sora could make any more indecent proposals. "Why are my testosterone and dopamine levels skyrocketing tonight of all nights? My focus keeps drifting toward physical attraction instead of important things," he muttered to himself as he hurried up the stairs toward the third floor, where his fake library and the teleportation circle drawn in chalk beneath the rug awaited him.
The bookseller definitely did well to leave quickly: left alone in the dim light of the room, Origami actually began muttering incomprehensible words in her sleep and sank her teeth into the pillow, biting it fiercely.
XXX
Returning to the historic heart of the Blackwood district, Spider-Man was slicing through the cool evening air, swinging nimbly above the streetlight-lit roads, punctual only in being late as usual.
'I hope that, after all the chaos that happened this afternoon, I finally get a quiet evening,' Spider-Man thought to himself as he zipped between the rooftops, hoping for the best yet keeping his reflexes taut and ready for the worst.
With a spectacular mid-air somersault followed by one last, precise web-shot, the wall-crawler landed with feline grace on the stone platform of the clock tower, just as the large glowing hands clicked to 8:20 PM.
"How do I always end up being late?" Spider-Man asked himself out loud, straightening his back and seriously starting to wonder if that chronic lack of punctuality wasn't actually a bizarre side effect of being bitten by that radioactive, genetically modified spider.
"Life is full of unexpected turns—I actually just got here myself," Black Warlock declared. The hero of Nightfall City was seated comfortably cross-legged on his magic staff, hovering a few inches above the roof of the tower with his cloak rippling gently in the breeze.
At a glance, through the white lenses of his mask, Spider-Man immediately noticed that Black Warlock was radiating an aura of unusual and pronounced good humor.
"Hey, Warlock the Black. In the last five or six hours since we said goodbye, did you win the lottery or what?" Spider-Man asked, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity.
"I can't go into details, but I spent a wonderful evening in great company," Warlock replied with an enigmatic smile, warmly thinking back to the time spent with Origami. "When I think about it, I've had a fantastic day. Aside from the moment we had to deal with Quasimodo, I had a blast with everything else. It was demanding, sure, but I felt really good," the wizard added, mentally recalling both the morning antics with Lola and the pleasant evening indoors with the female doctor.
"Lucky you. My day wasn't particularly good or particularly bad," Spider-Man replied, shrugging his shoulders.
At that exact moment, a deep, unmistakable rumble broke the nighttime silence of the tower, coming straight from the wall-crawler's abdomen. 'I was so busy helping Laura write the article that I completely forgot to eat dinner,' Spider-Man realized, bringing a gloved hand to his stomach with a resigned grimace beneath the red fabric.
"By any chance, can you pull a cupcake or something like that out of a hat?" Spider-Man asked, fervently hoping his colleague could repeat the culinary marvel he had pulled off during their first meeting at the harbor.
"Spider-Man, you can be certain of one thing about me: I carry more emergency food on me than Shaggy and Scooby-Doo combined," Warlock declared with fierce pride. Slipping his hand to his belt, he pulled out his trusty Bag of Endless.
He widened the mouth of the artifact and pulled out a thick blanket made of bright red fabric. "This is in case I ever have to face a raging bull, though it works just as well for keeping warm or setting up impromptu dinners on top of clock towers," Warlock explained. With a wide, fluid flick of his wrist, he let go of the fabric: the blanket unfolded in mid-air and glided softly down, spreading out perfectly over the flat stone right at Spider-Man's feet.
The hero of New York watched in total silence, the lenses of his mask wide with astonishment, as Warlock began pulling a full-fledged feast out of the small pouch: in sequence appeared a thermos brimming with steaming hot chocolate, a second thermos with fragrant tea, and a bottle of ice-cold water. Immediately afterward, the wizard set down a sealed baking dish containing creamy mashed potatoes and golden chicken cutlets, followed by a second identical one. He completed the spread by lining up utensils, a glass jar filled to the brim with artisanal multi-flavored gelato, and finally, two large steel-handled lanterns that lit up instantly, casting a warm amber glow across the stone of the tower.
"Didn't you say you were straight? This almost looks like a romantic dinner or a surprise date," the wall-crawler joked, gesturing toward the laid-out spread.
"Spider-Man, at this exact moment, there is a gorgeous woman sleeping in my house. Believe me, I was very tempted to lie down on the bed next to her," Warlock confessed, letting a faint blush rise to his cheeks, "but I chose to do my duty and be a good host for you. Don't make me regret that decision."
"Do you carry all this stuff with you every single time you leave the house?" Spider-Man asked, incredulous at seeing how, in less than five minutes, Warlock had set up a complete dinner for two dozens of feet up in the air.
"I'm worse than an old lady who collects knick-knacks and hoards them all in the attic," Warlock countered with total nonchalance. He closed the magic pouch and slipped his hand into one of the side pockets of his adventurer's belt.
"You're worse than Batman. I've heard he shoves literally everything into his utility belt, but you take the concept to a whole new level... certainly in the culinary department," Spider-Man commented, completely certain that the famous Bat-belt didn't hide an instant hot meal among its tactical compartments.
"Emergency rations—I got the recipe straight from Shaggy and Scooby-Doo," Warlock announced, pulling out with a triumphant flourish a colossal sandwich stuffed with ham, cheese, tomatoes, and more, assembled using an entire three-foot-long French baguette carefully wrapped in plastic wrap.
"If you were a woman, I'd ask you to come live with me in New York City—you'd solve so many of my problems," Spider-Man said jokingly, though genuinely appreciating the gesture.
The wall-crawler had no idea how close he had just come to hitting the nail on the head. In a certain sense, Welt was indeed an excellent homemaker capable of working comfortably from home as an artist and/or programmer, while Warlock would prove to be a formidable support asset out in the field.
"New York City is already overcrowded with heroes, whereas Nightfall City only has me. However, I wouldn't mind sharing the city with another vigilante at all: the workload would be cut in half, and I'd finally have someone watching my back," Warlock replied, setting the giant sandwich down on the blanket.
"I'll only move here if you find me a well-paying job and a place of my own," Spider-Man countered, playing along.
Black Warlock crossed his arms over his chest and took on a deeply pensive expression, tilting his head slightly.
"Wait a second... can you actually get me a good job and a house?" Spider-Man asked, his voice rising an octave out of genuine surprise.
"As for the first request, Black Warlock can't help you directly. However, Mayor Walter has been doing a great job since the start of his term: tourism is on the rise, several new businesses have opened, and he's pushing forward projects to grow the city's economy. In short, finding a good job wouldn't be difficult at all," Warlock explained calmly, obviously avoiding mentioning that Welt never had much trouble hiring people desperately looking for work, just as he had done with Mordecai and Rigby.
"And the house?" Spider-Man pressed, lifting the bottom edge of his mask slightly and leaning forward, curious to hear the rest.
"I have a secret hideout in the city to handle my hero business, and I can't bring anyone there because otherwise it would stop being secret. But I knew that one day, out of necessity, I would have to host someone; so I built a second secret lair, specifically designed to accommodate allies or targets who need to hide from dangerous people," Warlock revealed, having literally played a real-life version of Minecraft thanks to his arcane and construction abilities.
'I can't even afford the rent on a moldy studio apartment, and this guy builds two secret hideouts: one for himself and one for guests. At least he doesn't have a skyscraper with his name stamped across it in giant letters,' Spider-Man thought to himself, being used to dealing with heroes in New York endowed with infinitely more extravagant funds and luxuries.
"Let's grab this bite to eat and then go see what's cooking in the city tonight. Maybe I'll finally have time to figure out where those legume-stealing flying bunnies are popping out from," Warlock suggested, tearing the clear plastic wrap off his mega-sandwich in one fluid motion.
Spider-Man opened his mouth to reply to that absurd zoological mention, but then wisely decided to prioritize his stomach: he grabbed one of the steaming baking dishes, lifted the bottom edge of his mask, and began eating eagerly, putting off all questions about the bizarre local quirks until later.
XXX
Meanwhile, inside the suite of a luxury hotel downtown, Vanessa, alias Lady V, was enjoying an evening of absolute tranquility.
The femme fatale was wearing nothing but a soft, bright red silk bathrobe, tied carelessly at the waist so as to leave her slender legs bare, and sat comfortably sunk into a wide armchair of black Italian leather. With slow, deliberate movements, she swirled a crystal goblet filled with fine red wine, bringing it to her painted lips to sip it calmly.
Suddenly, the muffled silence of the room was shattered by the sharp ring of an encrypted cell phone resting on the glass side table beside her. Lady V set down her goblet, reached out her slender hand, and answered instantly: she certainly couldn't afford the luxury of ignoring a call coming from one of her best and wealthiest clients.
"You did a good job, Lady V," began a deep, metallic voice on the other end of the line, clearly altered by an electronic modulator to disguise any human inflection.
"I took care of the problem at its root," Vanessa replied in a cold, confident tone, crossing her legs in the armchair. "That idiot should have just broken out and headed straight to the safe house, where he would have received the stabilizing agent. Instead, he chose to vent his anger and pick a fight; as a result, he'll now remain in a deep coma for weeks or even months, until his system completely flushes out the substance. He won't be able to talk or snitch, and when the time is right, with the proper injection, he can still prove useful as a perfect attack dog," Lady V explained, satisfied with the biological countermeasures she had taken.
"I have another job for you," the mysterious voice declared, getting straight to the point.
"As long as you keep paying me well like you usually do, I'm ready to provide my services at any hour of the day or night," Vanessa replied, reaching her fingers back toward her goblet of red wine and lightly clinking the glass.
"I want you to test Black Warlock and Spider-Man," the caller ordered, clearly interested in probing the true capabilities of the two vigilantes who had ruined a major operation for his organization and put one of his subordinates behind bars.
"Unfortunately, I can't do that directly," Lady V objected, curling her lips into a calculated grimace. "My talents aren't suited for defeating two superhuman heroes out in the field: I'm a seductress and a poisoner, not a frontline fighter," she clarified, possessing neither the physical capabilities nor the slightest intention of risking her pretty face in a direct confrontation.
"I am fully aware of your capabilities and your limitations," the synthetic voice countered without missing a beat. "Over the next few days, I will send two of my best operatives and several expendable pawns into the city. Use them however you see fit." A sharp click announced the immediate end of the call.
Lady V slowly lowered the phone, letting a magnetic, venomous smile surface on her face. "It looks like I'll be staying in this city a little while longer," she murmured to herself, raising the goblet to her lips with extreme—perhaps excessive—confidence in her own abilities. "It will certainly be interesting to see if I can poison a spider and a dog that wandered too far from Dorothy."
XXX
In another hidden part of the city, shrouded in the industrial gloom of a repurposed warehouse, a tall, lanky figure was barking frantic orders at his henchmen, urging them to finish every last preparation for tomorrow, the day set for the grand opening.
Dozens of men and women, their eyes glassy and their faces devoid of any expression, looking in every way like a silent army of zombies, moved at a mechanical pace, hauling heavy burlap sacks filled to the brim with coffee beans toward massive roasting and processing machines. If the heroes managed to make it through the night unscathed, in the coming days they would have to deal with decidedly bitter times.
XXX
Finally, while all these people were busy dealing with dangerous plots, night patrols, and extremely complex matters, the scene shifted to a far more domestic and peaceful setting.
Inside the kitchen of her small apartment, Nia Honjo stood before a worktable completely covered in bowls, flour, jars of tomato sauce, mozzarella, and fresh ingredients arranged in a scattered order. Propped up against a jar stood the lit screen of her smartphone, displaying an open webpage with a simple, step-by-step recipe on how to make homemade Italian pizza.
"How hard could it possibly be to make a pizza?" Nia asked out loud in the quiet of the room, decisively rolling up the sleeves of her T-shirt to her elbows and plunging her hands into the flour, ready to get to work. Soon, it would be her turn to take center stage as well.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
I hope you enjoyed this chapter: the domestic fun is over, and now it's time for the fun of superheroes heading out on an adventure.
Fun fact: I used to think watching the movie where Batman gets help from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was a crazy crossover.
But I changed my mind when I watched Power Rangers in Space, Episode 4: "Shell Shocked," where the Power Rangers fight the Ninja Turtles under the mind control of the Princess of Evil, Astronema.
We fanfiction writers come up with crazy stuff, yet sometimes the original creators pull off even crazier things than we do.
The most surprising part was that there were 5 Ninja Turtles: the fifth one was a girl. I had completely forgotten she existed. My cousin had a DVD of this crazy version of the Ninja Turtles where they fought against vampires.
This reminds me of an argument back in first grade, when my deskmate refused to believe that a fifth female Ninja Turtle existed. I never managed to convince him.