Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

When the officers arrived, they found Bruce sitting nearby, sipping whiskey—his hand visibly trembling.

"Oh, you're finally here." Bruce set down his glass and pointed to the unconscious female agent on the floor. "It's her. I hired her as a secretary for my company, but I never expected her to pull something like this."

"Apologies, this is my first time dealing with something like this… I lost my composure a bit."

Bruce spoke with a face full of fear and shock.

"Don't worry, Mr. Kane. You were in your private residence and didn't take any excessive actions," one of the officers reassured him while signaling his colleague to check on the unconscious woman.

The officer, upon spotting the electrodes on the woman's chest, immediately understood the situation.

He exchanged a glance with his partner—both knowing exactly what had transpired.

"She's a beauty, though," the officer in charge of taking photos commented with a smirk.

He wanted to say more, but his partner quickly stopped him.

"She's not dead, just knocked out by the shock." One officer removed the stun baton from her hand before motioning for the medics to take her away.

They couldn't just leave her sprawled on someone's carpet.

Though, given the state of the carpet, it might already be ruined.

Glancing at the scattered bodysuit and equipment nearby, one of the officers shook his head before turning his gaze back to Bruce, who still seemed dazed by the incident.

"Being handsome isn't always a good thing, huh?"

"And people actually think this guy could be Batman?" another officer scoffed, unimpressed by Bruce's shaken demeanor.

"Enough. Let's just do our job."

Meanwhile, the officer comforting Bruce had noticed something peculiar. Unlike a typical American citizen who might have shot an intruder on sight, Bruce had chosen to subdue her with a taser.

His curiosity got the better of him.

"Mr. Kane, I don't mean to be intrusive, but I have to ask—why did you use a taser instead of a firearm? A handgun, a rifle… anything else?"

Despite the phrasing, it was clear he was assessing Bruce's response, looking for any deeper implications.

Bruce simply lifted his head. "Apologies, officer. I have hemophobia—fear of blood. That's why I only keep tasers at home. Besides, isn't it the law that decides whether someone lives or dies, not me?"

The officer's colleague, who had been checking Bruce's gun cabinet, nodded to confirm—there were indeed only tasers inside.

"My apologies. We'll handle this matter. We'll also help you file a restraining order—she won't be coming near Kane Manor again."

"But for your safety, I strongly suggest hiring some security personnel."

Bruce nodded, acknowledging the suggestion.

After wrapping up their statements, the officers left Kane Manor.

As the red and blue flashing lights faded into the distance, Bruce's entire demeanor shifted. The panic and fear disappeared, replaced by his usual calm, calculating presence.

"Hopefully, this incident buys us some time."

"What you need is me, not some gimmicks," the voice of the Red Death echoed in his mind once again.

He was making his case—trying to convince Bruce of his importance.

Especially in a world filled with an endless stream of superpowered beings, Bruce didn't have time to prepare contingency plans for each and every one of them.

The best solution was to become a superhuman himself.

Red Death was certain—if Bruce accepted his Speed Force, everything would fall into place.

But Bruce paid no attention to his words.

What he needed now wasn't a Batcave that would take ages to build.

He needed gear—everything, and fast.

Otherwise, the next visitor might not just be a minor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

As Bruce immersed himself in his preparations, across the city, Little Black Spider found himself in a predicament far more troublesome than he had ever imagined.

"Can't we just pretend we never saw each other and let this go?"

Miles looked at the woman in front of him, who was wearing a suit similar to Spider-Man's, and spoke with a hint of helplessness.

Unlike Gwen or other Spider-People, her suit didn't completely conceal her identity.

Her long hair flowed freely in the air.

It was as if her suit had been deliberately designed with an opening just to let her hair remain uncovered.

"I think you should start by explaining who you are."

Spider-Woman regarded this newcomer with caution.

She didn't know if the previous Spider-Man's death had anything to do with this guy.

Even though everyone later confirmed that it was simply a failed mission, she still had doubts.

After all, how could a Spider-Man who had been protecting New York's streets for so long fail so easily?

This incident left both Captain America and Spider-Woman feeling guilty.

One of them had received Spider-Man's request for backup but had been too preoccupied with Southeast Asian affairs to relay the message.

The other regretted not assisting him in time.

So when Miles suddenly appeared, it naturally drew Spider-Woman's attention.

And also S.H.I.E.L.D.'s.

"Well… I don't think we're that different. I'm guessing we had the same experience—bitten by a spider, got superpowers, started fighting crime. Even got smeared by the Daily Bugle constantly, and then—"

As Miles spoke, he slowly edged toward the corner of the rooftop.

"Adiós!" (Spanish for "Goodbye!")

With that, he turned and leaped off the building.

Spider-Woman simply watched as the young Spider fled, making no move to chase after him.

Not long after, a figure clad in gold and red armor appeared, carrying the unconscious Little Black Spider and landing beside her.

"Sometimes, tranquilizer darts really are the most efficient option. I'll take him from here."

Spider-Woman didn't say a word.

She knew her teammate's temperament all too well.

If she responded now, she wasn't sure how long the conversation would drag on.

Just then, Nick Fury's voice came through her earpiece.

"Spider-Woman, you need to head to NYPD headquarters. Our agent failed."

Spider-Woman replied flatly, "I'm just here to complete my mission. Whatever else happens isn't my concern."

She ended the call and swung toward her original destination.

Meanwhile, on the other end, Nick Fury was dealing with a massive headache.

He never imagined a day would come when one of his own agents would be sitting in an NYPD holding cell, waiting to be bailed out.

And to make matters worse, this agent's identity was highly sensitive.

"Hawkeye, you handle this."

"Got it."

Without another word, Hawkeye turned and headed for NYPD headquarters to retrieve their agent.

(End of Chapter)

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