Albedos Redemption

Albedo crouched atop a decommissioned crane, its rusted arm stretched over the Raft's grim, wave-lashed perimeter. A salty wind whipped over the dark waters, and the cold glow of the prison's searchlights traced menacing arcs across the nighttime sky. From his vantage point, Albedo had a perfect view of the maximum-security facility—its towering walls, the thick electrified fences, the patrolling guards. It was a fortress meant to hold the worst criminals in existence. Yet he and Spider-Man had come this far, intending to breach its walls with a single purpose: make Kingpin finally understand that Peter Parker's family was off-limits forever.

Albedo pressed a finger to the earpiece beneath his black-and-white vigilante cowl. "You set?"

Across the short gap of roiling water, perched behind a separate cluster of debris, Spider-Man gave a curt nod, visible only as a silhouette in the faint glow of the Raft's external lights. "Ready," he answered softly. "I still can't believe we're actually doing this."

Albedo's voice was firm, a slight undertone of concern. "He put out another hit on your family, Pete. We can't let that go unanswered. If the Kingpin thinks you'll keep turning the other cheek, he'll keep trying."

Spider-Man crouched, mask lenses reflecting the prison's searchlights. "I'm not complaining," he said, voice low. "Just… we're crossing a line. We've never broken into a government prison to settle a personal score. But after what happened to Aunt May—" His voice trembled. "This ends tonight."

Albedo understood. The Kingpin had orchestrated assassination attempts, nearly costing Aunt May her life. The recent infiltration by Prowler at Albedo's home only underscored that Kingpin wasn't finished. The man's influence extended even behind bars: half the guards here owed him favors, half the criminals revered him. If Kingpin wanted, he could still orchestrate bloodshed from within his cell. Now, though, Spider-Man planned to send a brutal message to any villain who thought messing with his loved ones was a winning strategy.

Albedo gave a final check of the small device latched to his forearm. It was an advanced jamming system, designed to disrupt the Raft's alarm grid and backup communications. He had spent the last week refining it, combining S.H.I.E.L.D. infiltration scripts with his own superior knowledge gleaned from hacking attempts. Tony Stark's legal hold on him was gone, but that didn't mean the Raft's automated systems would welcome him. "Once I activate the jammer," he told Peter, "they won't be able to raise an alarm or trigger the emergency lockdown. But we'll have limited time before they switch to manual overrides."

Peter nodded again. "Then let's not waste it." He fired a webline at a broken chunk of platform near the crane's base. With a graceful leap, he swung across the watery gap. Albedo followed, a grappling line snaking from his Proto-Tool, letting him glide across the swirling tide. They landed together on a narrow ledge just under the Raft's main exterior walkway.

The air smelled of sea brine and disinfectant, a testament to the prison's location and the constant sanitizing attempts inside. Albedo reached for the small panel on his arm, tapping in a code. A faint hum ensued. Overhead, the bright searchlights flickered once, then resumed. "Systems jammed," Albedo whispered. "They won't notice a missing feed for a few minutes. Let's move."

Spider-Man nodded, tension radiating from his posture. He scrambled up the side, a few quick leaps letting him scale the Raft's concrete wall. Albedo used the grappling hook for a silent boost, rising to the walkway with minimal noise. A lone guard patrolled, rifle slung over his shoulder, bored expression on his face. He glimpsed them an instant too late; Albedo darted forward, slamming the baton in a well-placed stun strike. The guard collapsed without a cry.

Peter met Albedo's gaze. "You can take down the system from here?"

Albedo scanned the corridor that ran inside the outer guard tower. "The main alarm is down, but I need to patch into the security grid to keep them from going manual. Let me handle that. You find Kingpin's cell. We only have a short window."

Spider-Man flexed his fingers, glancing down the corridor. "Understood. I know which block he's in. I'll leave a few sub-systems intact, so the rest of the facility doesn't meltdown. But once I'm in, I'm taking him out."

Albedo nodded, trying to bury his reservations. Peter had never sounded so determined—or so angry. This wouldn't be a typical quip-laden, for-justice fight. Spider-Man wanted to break Kingpin's spirit once and for all. "Go," Albedo said gently, "I'll catch up when I'm done."

Peter shot off, weaving through the corridor, webslinging past a corner. Albedo crouched, sliding into the guard tower's control station. The hum of monitors and computers greeted him, muted alarms blinking. A pair of off-duty guards lounged in chairs, scanning the incomplete feed. They didn't even see Albedo until the last second. A quick baton arc and a sweep of the leg took them down. Albedo hissed under his breath as he typed frantically on a console, hooking his jamming module into the data port. Streams of code scrolled. The facility's main alert system was locked in a false normal mode, courtesy of Albedo's infiltration. For now, the Raft wouldn't detect the infiltration. At least not electronically.

He had to hurry. The moment anyone physically stumbled upon them or realized the feed was bogus, chaos would erupt. Already, the closer he got, the more he worried about Kingpin's personal goons or bribed staff. Once the sub-systems were pacified, he slid back out, baton at the ready. Time to catch up with Spider-Man.

Inside the Raft's labyrinthine corridors, dim overhead lighting revealed row upon row of thick metal doors. Each cell held a supervillain, some A-list threats, some lesser criminals. Muted voices and the occasional clang of metal on metal reverberated. Albedo's footsteps echoed softly. He reached a T-junction, scanning for signs of Peter's path. Then he heard it—distant shouts, followed by the crash of bending metal. That had to be where Spider-Man had gone.

He sprinted, passing a cluster of cowering guards. They recognized the intruder but, lacking instructions from a frozen alarm system, they hesitated. By the time one mustered the will to lift a stun rifle, Albedo was already gone, rounding a corner. Down the next hall, the cell doors looked more imposing—heavy security blocks for high-profile criminals. Several lights flickered, half destroyed, along with fragments of webbing. Spider-Man was definitely here.

A thunderous roar erupted behind a sealed cell door labeled with special clearance. Albedo rushed forward. On the other side, Spider-Man had forced the door wide open, twisting the thick metal as if it were tin foil. Inside that cell was Wilson Fisk—Kingpin—still wearing a custom prison jumpsuit, the collar neatly pressed as though he were a king in a shabby domain. Spider-Man loomed over him, fists clenched. Kingpin's hulking figure glowered, but there was real fear in his eyes. At the door, half a dozen other inmates craned their necks from their own cells, watching with wide-eyed fascination. The entire row had gone silent.

Albedo slipped in as Spider-Man seized Kingpin by the collar. "You think you can keep hiring killers to come after my family?" Peter hissed, voice shaking with rage. "You nearly murdered Aunt May. You keep sending scum to my doorstep. I'm done."

Kingpin's face twisted. "Listen to me, insect—" But he never finished. Spider-Man slammed him against the wall, the entire cell rattling. For the first time, perhaps, Kingpin looked genuinely unsettled.

Spider-Man dragged Kingpin out of the cell, ignoring the massive man's attempts to brace himself. "We're going public," Spider-Man snarled. He hauled Fisk along the corridor, past the gaping inmates. People in surrounding cells gasped at the sight: Spider-Man, no longer the quippy hero. He was a silent fury, determined to humiliate Fisk in front of the entire prison, every villain who once whispered that Kingpin was untouchable.

Albedo suppressed a shiver. He'd never seen Peter like this—dark anger boiling beneath the surface. Part of him wanted to intervene, but he knew that if they left Kingpin unpunished, Aunt May would always be a target. This was about sending a message. And maybe about letting Peter vent his anger over all the months of torment. He kept watch, baton raised in case any guard or inmate tried to interfere.

"Spider-Man," Kingpin growled, regaining some composure. "I can still ruin your life—"

Peter slammed him against the bars of a nearby cell. The occupant within shrank back in horror. "No, Fisk," Peter said, voice low and almost trembling with venom. "Your time is over. You will never threaten my family again."

He hammered a series of brutal punches into Kingpin's gut. The hulking man coughed, doubling over, face twisted in pain. The inmates along the row pressed their faces to the bars, some shouting encouragement, others cowering. The entire block was transfixed. They'd never seen Spider-Man like this—no jokes, no restraint, just raw fury.

Albedo realized half the corridor was swallowing lumps in their throats. Word was traveling fast: Spider-Man isn't joking tonight. The usual banter or disclaimers about pulling punches had vanished.

Kingpin attempted a desperate swing, but Peter ducked, driving a knee into Fisk's midsection. Another swift blow knocked the wind out of him. "I could end you right now," Spider-Man hissed, eyes flashing behind the mask lenses. "But I won't kill. I'm not like you. Yet you'll never forget this." He whipped a webline around Kingpin's neck, not enough to strangle, but enough to jerk him onto the floor.

Albedo stepped closer, heart pounding at the ferocity. "That's enough, Pete," he said quietly, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He got the message."

Spider-Man hesitated, trembling with adrenaline. Then he exhaled. "All of you," he called to the silent inmates, his voice echoing down the block, "pay attention. If any of you think messing with my family is a way to break me, remember what you saw here. I am done being Mr. Nice Guy."

Uneasy murmurs rippled through the cell blocks. Kingpin lay on the ground, gasping for breath, suit askew. He tried to speak but coughed blood. The entire facade of unstoppable underworld power had cracked in front of the entire Raft population.

Albedo nodded grimly. "We should go." He tapped the jamming device strapped to his arm. "We've got maybe a minute before the system reboots."

Spider-Man gave Kingpin's collar one final yank, leaning in to hiss, "If I ever hear you even think about Aunt May or MJ again, you'll wish we let you rot in the negative zone. Understand?"

The Kingpin's eyes burned with mingled humiliation and fear. He said nothing, but the trembling in his massive arms spoke volumes.

"That's enough," Albedo said firmly, taking Spider-Man by the shoulder. Together, they left the corridor, ignoring the stunned stares from guards who no longer knew how to respond, thanks to the disabled alarms. A wave of hush followed them, broken only by the hiss of mechanical doors as they slipped deeper into the bowels of the Raft, then out toward the exit. By the time the jamming device wore off, Albedo and Spider-Man were gone, leaving behind a Kingpin whose aura of invincibility had shattered before the eyes of every villain who once feared or revered him.

They made their escape the same way they arrived—through the guard tower, across the fence, and out to the rusted crane. Only when they reached the safety of the crane's far side, the waves crashing below, did Albedo finally stop. He turned to Spider-Man, whose chest still heaved with adrenaline.

Peter yanked off his mask, sweat dripping down his temples. "I… had to do it," he murmured. "He nearly killed Aunt May. I'm so sick of letting him walk away scot-free."

Albedo gently placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I know. You did what you had to. Let's get home."

Peter took a trembling breath. "Right. Home."

They swung and grappled off into the night, leaving the Raft behind, the entire prison shaken by the violent spectacle they'd witnessed. The Kingpin's underworld throne had been rattled, and every criminal locked away in that fortress understood Spider-Man wasn't playing games anymore.

————

By the time they returned to Albedo's home, dawn hovered on the edge of the horizon, painting the sky with pale hints of orange and pink. The two men slipped in through the side door, quietly letting themselves inside so as not to wake the family. The house was still, the only sound a soft hum from the fridge. Albedo clicked on a small lamp in the living room, removing his black-and-white vigilante mask, while Peter peeled away parts of his Spider-Man suit. Both were exhausted from the intense confrontation.

But to their surprise, Mary Jane stood in the hallway, arms folded, eyes red-rimmed. Clearly, she'd been anxiously awaiting their return. Aunt May hovered behind her in the living room, wrapped in a robe, expression worried. The moment Mary Jane saw Peter, she rushed forward, relief mingling with frustration. "You guys have been gone all night… We were so worried!"

Peter mustered a small apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. We had to settle something at the Raft."

Aunt May gave him a hard look. "Something involving Kingpin, I assume," she said, tone trembling with half-suppressed dread. "Peter… I appreciate your heart, but you can't keep throwing yourself into the dark. You're not alone."

He nodded, stepping into the living room. "I know, May." The tension in his stance eased as Mary Jane pressed into his side, hugging him. "I'm okay," he reassured them. "Kingpin got the message. He's not going to threaten us again."

Mary Jane sighed, burying her face in his shoulder. "I hope you're right. We can't keep living in fear."

Aunt May looked up at Albedo with gratitude. "Thank you for watching out for him, dear. Both of you come home safe, that's all I ask."

Albedo offered a faint smile. "We did. No more external threats tonight, I promise."

Mary Jane glanced between them, hesitating. "Look, there's something we need to talk about. It… it can't wait." Her voice quavered, a swirl of apprehension and anticipation in her eyes.

Peter tilted his head. "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

Aunt May smiled softly, stepping closer. "Go on, MJ. Tell him."

Mary Jane swallowed hard, taking Peter's hand. "I… found out this afternoon. I was late—" Her eyes glistened with tears of conflicting emotion. "Peter… I'm pregnant."

Silence fell like a sudden hush. Even Albedo blinked, heart skipping. Spider-Man's eyes widened, mouth parted. "Pregnant?" he whispered. "Y-you're sure?"

Mary Jane nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I took a test. Then another. Both positive. I… I haven't been to the doctor yet, but it's pretty certain." She pressed a trembling hand to her abdomen. "You're going to be a father."

Aunt May's eyes shone with moist happiness. "Oh, MJ, that's wonderful. Despite everything, life finds a way."

Peter's emotions collided in a wave of shock, joy, fear. "But… after last time…" He trailed off, referencing the heartbreak of Mary Jane's previous stillborn pregnancy. "Are we… can we handle that again if—"

Tears wet Mary Jane's lashes. "I'm scared too. But we can't hide from the chance of happiness forever. This might be our new beginning."

Peter exhaled shakily, pulling Mary Jane into a gentle embrace. "I— I'm terrified," he admitted. "My life is a mess. We have no stable income, half the city hates me, and I'm… I can't lose you or the baby if things go wrong."

She held him close. "We'll figure it out together. We have Aunt May. We have Albedo. We have Theresa now, apparently. There's a family around us. We're not alone."

Aunt May nodded, stepping forward to place a hand on Mary Jane's shoulder. "I'm sure it's nerve-racking, dear. But I believe you two can rise above this. You've been through so much."

Albedo let the moment sink in, feeling a surge of warmth for them. Yes, they faced new challenges, but the idea of a child gave them a reason to fight on. "We'll support you however we can," Albedo said softly. "I'll help cover medical needs if money's an issue. Don't worry about costs."

Peter gave him a grateful, tearful smile. "Thank you," he whispered. "I— I guess I need to find a stable job, though. I can't keep mooching off you, especially with a baby on the way."

Mary Jane nodded, wiping tears. "We do need some form of income. But where can you work if half the world knows you're Spider-Man?"

Albedo pursed his lips thoughtfully. He hadn't planned on a grand reveal, but the timing felt right. "I've been thinking… I can do more than just supply living quarters or money. I was considering building my own company—a fusion of advanced technology, medical innovation, maybe some architectural engineering. Something that uses the knowledge I gleaned from the Healing Chamber projects and my dimension's science background. If you're interested, Peter, I'd like you to be a partner. You're brilliant with science, you have a knack for invention. We could combine our strengths, build something that redefines how we approach technology in this world."

Peter's eyes widened. "A… a company? With me as a partner? But I… I never finished a formal degree, and—"

Albedo dismissed that with a wave. "Your intelligence speaks for itself. I've seen what you do with web fluid, your mechanical prowess, your adaptation under pressure. We can handle the formalities. The important part is: we'll build something that helps people, that can sustain your family financially, and gives you the flexibility to continue hero work."

Aunt May beamed, tears forming again. "Oh, Albedo, that's… that's so kind of you."

Mary Jane clutched Peter's arm, smiling through her own tears. "It's a wonderful idea, Pete. You always wanted to do more than just scrape by on freelance photography or odd jobs."

Peter exhaled, a spark of hope lighting his exhausted eyes. "I… yes, I'd love that. If you're serious, I'm in. That'd solve so many problems. I don't want my child growing up in constant financial instability." He looked at Mary Jane, voice trembling with emotion. "We can do this. Together."

Mary Jane nodded, leaning her forehead against his. "Yes, we can."

Albedo let out a relieved breath. "Then let's do it. I'll get the legal framework started soon. We can rent or build a small lab, gather equipment. I'll handle startup capital from the resources I've earned with the Healing Chamber patents. No more living in fear about money. We'll shape the future ourselves."

Peter chuckled, tears still brimming. "Everything is changing so fast."

Aunt May patted his arm. "All for the better, dear."

The four shared a warm group hug, a moment of calm in the midst of the chaos they'd endured. The sunrise tinted the windows with golden light, ushering in a new day. A day filled with promise, uncertainty, but also hope for a stable family life and a second chance at building something beyond the rubble of the Civil War.

————

Later that morning, after some much-needed sleep and a relaxed breakfast, Albedo wandered the living room, checking messages on his phone. Aunt May dozed in an armchair, Mary Jane rummaged in the kitchen for snacks, and Peter was in the small makeshift lab area, doodling design ideas for the potential new company. The entire house exuded a rare sense of optimism.

Suddenly, Albedo's phone beeped with an unfamiliar number. He frowned, answered it. The line crackled before a neutral voice said, "Your presence is requested on top of the Baxter Building. Reed Richards specifically asks for you. Tony Stark will be there as well."

Albedo's heart gave a jolt of concern. He stepped away from the others, pressing the phone closer. "And who is this?"

"Just a messenger," the voice replied. "Reed said it was urgent. If you want an end to certain unresolved matters, come alone." The line clicked dead.

He stared at the phone. A swirl of apprehension seized him. Reed Richards and Tony Stark, the architects of so much Civil War turmoil—why call him? Possibly they wanted to bury the hatchet, or maybe they had another plan. Albedo's gut tightened, but something in him felt compelled to see this through. The future of the hero community might hinge on these conversations. Or it could be a trap, but Reed had changed his stance recently by helping Aunt May. Perhaps this was an attempt at reconciliation.

He tucked the phone away, glancing at Peter in the adjacent room. Telling him would lead to arguments; Peter might want to come, or might fear a trap. But the message was explicit: come alone. Albedo sighed, deciding to honor it. "I'll be back," he called out to the house, masking his tension with a casual tone. "Got to run an errand. Don't wait up for me, might be a while."

Mary Jane raised a curious eyebrow, but Peter was engrossed in scribbling notes about mechanical schematics, only half listening. Aunt May snoozed. That was probably for the best. Albedo slipped out quietly, transforming into a discreet alien form for faster travel or using his grappling lines to navigate the city. He headed across Manhattan's skyline, mind churning with speculation. The Baxter Building soared in the distance, the Fantastic Four's iconic silhouette though overshadowed by recent controversies. He'd parted ways with Reed on bitter terms, accusing him of nearly letting Aunt May die. Why the sudden call?

As he approached, he saw the top landing platform. The building's usual external defenses seemed inactive. Albedo landed lightly, scanning for hostilities. Instead, he found Reed Richards leaning against a short parapet, face drawn, hair disheveled. Next to him stood Tony Stark, arms folded, wearing only partial Iron Man gauntlets for flight, face stark with fatigue.

Albedo approached warily, baton at his side. "You wanted me?"

Tony gave him a weary nod. "Yes. Thanks for coming. We… needed to talk."

Reed exhaled, gesturing for Albedo to come closer. The morning breeze ruffled their clothes, the city sprawling below. "Listen," Reed said quietly, "I've been reflecting on everything—especially after I nearly refused Aunt May the device. My moral compass was so twisted by the war's demands. Tony and I… we want to discuss the future. The Registration Act's broken. We lost the public's trust after Goliath's death. The war ended in a stalemate. We can't keep fighting each other. We need a path forward."

Albedo studied them both, recalling the heartbreak each had caused. "You're the ones who created half these problems. Now you want my help cleaning them up?"

Tony gave a wry, pained smile. "You're not wrong. We messed up. But ignoring the rifts won't fix the hero community. Reed and I are thinking about a new arrangement—less about forced registration, more about accountability and transparency done right. We want to talk to you because… ironically, you've become a central figure. You united with Captain America, saved lives with your inventions, and your name carries weight among the unregistered crowd."

Albedo stiffened. "And your plan? That I somehow broker peace? Peter and others might not be so eager after all the pain you caused."

Reed's shoulders sagged. "We know. But we're trying to build a new consensus. Let heroes operate with freedom, but maintain some minimal oversight to ensure public safety. Tony and I… we can't do it alone. We've lost trust."

Albedo took a slow breath, gazing at the city skyline. "And you think I can restore that trust?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe. Or at least help us start. We'll approach Steve Rogers, see if we can hold a summit, let each side air grievances. No more clones or doomsday prisons."

Reed nodded, face somber. "We want to ensure no more families like Peter's end up in crosshairs. That's the entire point of heroism, right? Protecting lives, not destroying them."

Albedo stared, heart churned with conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to lash out at Tony for all the misery inflicted. Another part recognized that the hero community's fracturing threatened everyone. With cosmic threats always looming, unity might be essential. "You expect me to trust you after all you did?" he asked quietly.

Tony's gaze flickered, shame in his eyes. "Not trust—maybe just an open mind. I can't undo Goliath's death, can't undo Aunt May's shooting. But I can help shape what comes next."

Reed exhaled. "Think about it, Albedo. We know you're building a new life, possibly your own company. We want to support that, or at least not hinder it. The old lines of the Civil War are dissolving, but if we do nothing, another crisis or tyrant might force heroes to turn on each other again. We can't afford that."

A hush fell, the wind ruffling their clothes as the city below stirred in mid-morning hustle. Albedo closed his eyes, recalling Lady Death's and Phoenix's words about redemption in the White Hot Room. He had chosen a path of creation rather than destruction. Perhaps bridging this gap was part of that mission. If Tony and Reed were genuinely willing to abandon their old authoritarian approach, maybe hope existed.

"All right," Albedo said at last. "I'll listen. I'll try to connect you with Steve, with other unregistered heroes, see if we can talk. But I won't guarantee success. You have to earn their trust back."

Tony and Reed exchanged relieved glances. "That's all we ask," Tony murmured.

Albedo gave them each a long, measured look. "Aunt May nearly died because of your actions—directly or indirectly. Peter nearly lost everything. I won't let you two slip back into moral compromise. If we do this, it's with honesty and true accountability. Otherwise, I walk away."

Reed nodded, eyes sincere. "Understood. We'll do better."

Tony extended a hand. Albedo stared at it, memories flooding—battles, betrayals, arrests. After a moment, he shook Tony's hand, albeit stiffly. "Don't make me regret it," Albedo warned.

Then, with a swirl of the wind, the moment ended as quickly as it began. The three men stood on the Baxter Building's rooftop, the city's noise distant but ever-present. Beyond them lay the uncertain future of the hero community, shaped by the aftermath of a Civil War that tore them apart. Yet if they were to mend those rifts, it would begin with small steps of reconciliation like this one.

Albedo took a step back, gaze shifting from Tony to Reed. "I have a life to get back to—Peter, Mary Jane, Aunt May, and our new plans. Keep me posted on the summit idea. If you're serious, I'll try to help. But I'm not your pawn."

Reed managed a thin smile. "Never again, Albedo. You're your own person. We only hope to earn your partnership."

Tony gave a resigned nod. "Thank you for hearing us out."

Albedo turned, walking to the rooftop's edge. "We'll see if your words translate to real change." Without another word, he leapt off, engaging a grappling line from his Proto-Tool, gliding away from the Baxter Building in a silent arc. Tony and Reed remained behind, the weight of the conversation etched on their faces.

As Albedo soared through the city's updrafts, he considered all that had happened in a single night: he and Spider-Man forcibly reminding Kingpin that family was not to be touched, Mary Jane's pregnancy announcement, the offer to build a company together, and now a tentative approach from Tony and Reed. The Civil War's aftermath wasn't merely a matter of public policy or hero registration forms; it was personal, shaping destinies, forging new alliances while burning old ones to ash.

And with the promise of a child on the horizon for Peter and Mary Jane, the stakes had never been higher. Their unborn baby represented hope in a world battered by conflict. If Albedo's efforts could help shape a new era—one where heroes didn't tear each other apart—then perhaps that child would grow up in a safer, more united world. It was enough to give Albedo fresh resolve as he drifted above the bustling streets, the wind tousling his hair, the morning sun warming his face.

He pictured the sight of Mary Jane's tearful joy, Peter's trembling excitement, Aunt May's gentle smiles. Yes, there was much to fight for—redemption not just for himself, but for the entire hero community. And so, as he neared his home, his mind already churned with plans: for the new company, for bridging that final gap with the Avengers, for forging a path to a better tomorrow. The Civil War might be over, but the rebuilding—both personal and communal—had just begun.