"Today was insane… seriously insane!!!"
"It was bad enough running into those thugs, but the Butcher too?!"
"And the way he killed them… that was just—"
April cut herself off mid-thought, her pace quickening as she headed toward her apartment building. Her face remained composed, the same neutral mask she wore in public, but inside, her thoughts were in complete chaos.
Nothing about tonight felt real.
Over the past week, the name "Butcher" had exploded across every news outlet in New York. Story after story painted the same picture—violent, merciless, and absolutely uncompromising. A man who didn't follow the same rules as other heroes, and didn't care to.
He didn't hold back.
He didn't negotiate.
If someone crossed the line, he ended them.
Clean.
Final.
Efficient.
The Daily Bugle had even joked about it in one of their editorials, half serious and half terrified.
"There are only two kinds of superheroes in New York City: the Butcher… and everyone else."
At the time, April had read that line like anyone else—a catchy headline meant to stir attention. Something exaggerated, maybe even a little dramatic.
But now?
Now she had seen it with her own eyes.
Before tonight, she was just another reporter chasing leads that never quite turned into headlines. Someone digging through scraps, hoping to uncover something big.
And then—
She ran into him.
Not only that, he had entrusted her with something.
A task.
That realization sent a strange thrill through her chest, something between excitement and pressure.
"This is huge…" she whispered, gripping the camera a little tighter. "This is bigger than anything I've ever had."
Her steps slowed slightly as her thoughts shifted.
"Spider-Man…"
For a long time, she had believed in him.
Everyone did.
To the people of Queens, he was more than just a hero—he was a symbol. Someone who showed up when it mattered, who fought for the weak, who stood against everything that went wrong in the city.
He was supposed to be clean.
Untouchable.
A perfect counter to crime.
But the images on that camera told a different story.
A darker one.
"If it wasn't real…" she murmured, her voice lowering unconsciously, "then how did he turn into something like that?"
The footage didn't lie.
That black substance.
That loss of control.
That transformation.
Whatever Spider-Man was hiding, it wasn't small.
April's expression hardened slightly, disappointment settling where admiration used to be.
"Hypocrite," she muttered. "If this gets out… you're going to have a lot to answer for."
What she didn't realize was that she wasn't alone.
High above, between the narrow gaps of towering buildings, a figure stood silently, listening.
Red armor.
A steady, controlled breath.
And a wound at his waist that hadn't fully closed yet.
Daredevil remained perfectly still, his heightened senses picking up every detail—the rhythm of her heartbeat, the tension in her voice, the subtle tremor when she spoke the name "Butcher."
He had seen everything.
From the moment the thugs cornered her…
To the instant they died.
Under normal circumstances, he would've intervened. Would've stepped in, stopped the violence, drawn a line where things went too far.
That was who he was.
Or at least—
Who he thought he was.
But tonight had changed something.
Not long ago, he had crossed paths with two agents from S.H.I.E.L.D.. They had labeled him a criminal without hesitation, attacked him without warning, and forced him into retreat like he was no better than the people he fought every night.
The accusation still echoed in his mind.
"Excessive force."
As a lawyer, Matt understood the law better than most. He knew where the line was drawn, knew how far he could go without crossing into something irreversible.
And yet—
They didn't care.
To them, he was already guilty.
His jaw tightened slightly beneath the mask.
"If I'm using excessive force…" he murmured quietly, the words barely audible even to himself, "then what does that make him?"
The image of the Butcher flashed in his mind.
The speed.
The precision.
The complete lack of hesitation.
Three lives, ended in an instant.
No warning.
No second chances.
And yet—
April was alive.
Safe.
"…Hah."
A bitter sound slipped out before he could stop it.
"As long as the result is justice… what does it matter how you get there?"
The thought lingered, heavier than it should have been.
For the first time in a long time, the scales inside his heart wavered.
And he didn't know which side they would fall on.
——
Inside a heavily secured hospital facility operated by S.H.I.E.L.D., the atmosphere was far more controlled.
After being subdued, Spider-Man had been transferred into a VIP ward, where a team of specialists worked tirelessly to stabilize his condition. Advanced equipment surrounded him, monitoring every detail, ensuring nothing went unnoticed.
Standing just outside the operating area, Nick Fury watched the process unfold without missing a single detail.
Opportunities like this didn't come often.
And he had no intention of wasting it.
Under his direct authorization, multiple samples had already been collected—blood, stem cells, even select tissue fragments. Everything that could be preserved, was.
Efficiency.
Precision.
Control.
That was how S.H.I.E.L.D. operated.
A young scientist stepped forward, tablet in hand, clearly nervous but doing his best to remain composed.
Leo Fitz cleared his throat before beginning his report.
"Spider-Man's genetic structure shows partial overlap with that of arachnids," he explained carefully, eyes flicking between the data and the director. "The mutation appears stable and beneficial, granting him strength, speed, and reflexes far beyond human limits."
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then continued.
"There's also evidence of enhanced neural processing. His reaction speed allows him to anticipate threats before they fully manifest, which explains his… combat performance."
Fury didn't interrupt.
He simply listened.
"But the most unusual element," Fitz added, his tone shifting slightly, "is the black substance attached to him."
His fingers tightened around the tablet.
"I've cross-referenced it with every known organism on Earth. There's no match. It doesn't belong to any known biological classification—it's like it evolved under a completely different system."
A pause.
"It's aggressive. Adaptive. And it seems capable of amplifying violent tendencies in its host."
Fitz took a breath, steadying himself.
"If we can isolate its structure, it could drastically enhance soldier performance."
Another beat.
"And if we can derive stable variants from it… it might even lead to breakthroughs in treating diseases we currently can't cure."
Silence settled briefly after he finished.
Then—
A faint smile appeared on Fury's face.
"That," he said calmly, "is the best news I've heard all day."
He gave a short nod, offering a few words of encouragement before dismissing Fitz to continue his work. The scientist didn't waste a second, quickly returning to the lab area to carry out further analysis.
The moment the room cleared, the atmosphere shifted.
Fury's expression changed.
The faint smile disappeared.
His fingers tapped lightly against the table, the rhythm slow and deliberate as his thoughts turned inward.
"The Butcher…"
He said the name quietly, almost testing it.
"A very capable killer."
Unlike most people, Fury didn't need reports to understand what that meant.
He had worked with Liam before.
Seen enough to know what lay beneath that calm exterior.
Resolve.
Absolute.
Unshakable.
The kind that didn't bend under pressure or compromise under scrutiny.
"He acts like an executioner," Fury muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "Deciding what deserves to be erased… and carrying it out without hesitation."
There was value in that.
As an ally, someone like that could be an unbreakable shield.
Reliable.
Efficient.
Deadly.
But as an enemy?
Fury's fingers stopped tapping.
"That's a nightmare."
Captain America's earlier report resurfaced in his mind, each detail slotting into place.
Hidden strength.
Unrevealed capabilities.
A man who had been holding back the entire time he was under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watch.
"That complicates things," Fury said under his breath, the weight of the situation settling in fully.