To keep his secret buried, Professor Connors carried the lifeless body of his assistant out of the lab, struggling like a man hauling his own guilt.
He shoved her into the trunk of his car, slammed it shut, and drove into the night.
By now, he'd learned to shift at will—human by choice, monster by instinct.
When he appeared human, his right arm vanished again, leaving that familiar phantom ache.
When the scales came back, so did the power.
On the outskirts of the city, under a dead streetlight, he tied a heavy stone to the woman's body and tossed her into the river.
The splash echoed in the silence.
"Killing one or a hundred… what's the difference?" he muttered, eyes hollow. "If they'll hang me for one, I may as well deserve it."
He got back into the car and drove toward the city.
Halfway down the empty highway, headlights flickered ahead—
A car parked by the roadside, windows fogged, shaking in rhythm. Muffled laughter. A woman's breathless voice.
Connors's face twisted.
Since losing his wife, he'd come to loathe the sight of lovers.
He stopped, stepped out, and walked toward the car.
He knocked on the window.
"Who the hell—?! Can't you see we're—"
Before the man could finish, the professor's skin split into scales. His jaw elongated. Muscles tensed.
The Lizard punched once—
Glass exploded, bone cracked, and his clawed fist tore through the man's chest clean through to the woman behind him.
Blood splattered across her face like red rain.
She froze. Then screamed.
"Disgusting," Connors hissed. "Lovebirds die fast."
He flipped the car over with one arm, metal shrieking. The woman tumbled out, scrambling backward on her hands.
"Two choices," he said coldly. "Die with him… or let me save you."
"T-The second! Please!"
Connors smirked. "Oh, right—one small detail. I save you… then I kill you."
Her voice broke into silence as his claws pierced her stomach.
Moments later, both bodies lay still in the dirt.
Connors stood over them, chest rising and falling, a strange ecstasy washing over him.
"The feeling… it's intoxicating."
Days passed.
Across New York, bodies began turning up—ripped apart, disfigured, drained.
The media blamed mutants.
Tension between mutants and ordinary citizens skyrocketed once again.
But Ryuuto knew better—or rather, he would've, if he cared enough to look.
He was spending his week between classes at Oxford and training with Gwen.
And honestly? He was having fun for once.
In Gwen's dorm, Ryuuto sat back on her desk chair, casually eating her apple while she crawled across the ceiling like a human spider.
He squinted up at her. "You're seriously not bored doing that all day?"
"Not at all," she said, hanging upside down with a grin. "I wanna be a hero someday—like Invisible Woman. I used to hate that she left the Fantastic Four to join the X-Men, but… after what you told me about that mutant riot being manipulated, I kinda get it now."
Ryuuto smirked. "Oh, I admire her too. Her riding skills are impressive."
Gwen blinked. "Her what?"
"You know. Equestrianism." His face was perfectly straight. "If you ever see her ride in person, you'll understand."
"…You're impossible," she muttered, cheeks pink.
He leaned back lazily. "If you two ever meet, I bet you'll end up on opposite sides anyway. You fight for humans; she fights for mutants."
Gwen dropped gracefully from the ceiling, landing light as a cat. "Maybe. But either way, I'll need a suit."
"What kind?"
"Something flexible, like Invisible Woman's—protective but light. I don't wanna be some tabloid's front-page hero."
Ryuuto raised a brow. "Then I've got your name already."
"Oh? What name?"
He grinned. "Spider-Man."
"…Spider-Man? You're joking, right?"
"Too late," Ryuuto said, biting into the last of her apple. "It's canon now."