Rogue Replacement: A Marvel Story

Chapter 85 - Part 5/5

Arc 7 - Ch 2: Opening Day

Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

Location: Midtown, Manhattan, New York

The waiter returned to their table, notepad in hand, as the sun began to descend towards the horizon. Tyson ordered dessert for himself and Jessica. The hours they had spent in the restaurant had flown by. As the waiter retreated, Tyson's expression grew more serious.

"After dessert, I'll have to head to House of M and prepare for tonight's show." after a moment's hesitation, he added, "And Magneto."

"I'm coming, you know," Jessica stated, leaving no room for argument.

"Alright." Tyson agreed with little fuss. Jessica's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He continued with an amused tone. "Do you have a nice dress? It's a premiere for an exclusive show. Tonight is a red carpet event." Jessica licked her teeth in annoyance as she realized the implications. Tyson immediately offered. "We'll get you something to wear on the way, then."

"I don't want you to buy me a dress," she protested.

"It wouldn't be the first time I buy a dress. I get them all the time." he countered, "If it's an issue, we'll get you a suit instead. Tailoring is going to be tight, but you're tall for a woman, model proportions. We might be able to get something off the rack that fits."

Jessica asked, annoyed, "How many of the girls you bought dresses for were your girlfriends?"

Tyson stopped to think about it. "None? I don't think I've ever bought a dress for my girlfriend." He actually frowned at the realization and ticked off his fingers to be sure. "I got dresses for Illyana, but I didn't have any money back then. I used my powers to acquire them, I didn't pay. With Jean and Jubilee, I bought them dresses for the first House of M premier, but that was before Jubilee and I were dating. Nat… Miss Rushman, I bought her a pair of dresses. One was for a date, but officially we never dated… Damn, I've never bought my girlfriend a dress. That's weird. Jubilee bought her own dress for tonight, but I paid for it. So, one?"

"One. Final answer," he said with certainty.

Jessica shook her head, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders.

"Look, Jess. I pay Peter royalties for doing his story at House of M. He fought against it at first, but this has worked out for him." His mismatched eyes searched her face as he asked, "How have you been getting by?"

"I deliver pizza and Chinese food and sell pictures of my action shots to Jameson."

The familiarity of her response reminded him of things Peter had done in the Spider-Man movies. Was this some kind of cosmic correction? Had Jessica faced the hardship he'd spared Peter?

"Let me help you." Jessica shook her head, stubbornly denying his offer, but he pressed on. "You've been helping people out there. You could be doing that more instead of delivering pizzas. And you don't need to sell pictures of yourself."

Jessica's eyes flashed as she pointed at him accusingly. "It's not like that," she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Tyson held up his hands placatingly. "And I don't mean it like that," he assured her. "What I'm saying is, I can help. It's not a big deal."

Jessica looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowing as she studied Tyson's face. Recognizing her skepticism, Tyson changed tactics. "Fine. You want to be stubborn. I'm not offering you a handout. I'm offering you a job."

"A job?" she asked skeptically.

As their dessert arrived, they grabbed spoons and began eating.

"If you're like Peter, I know you're smart," he said between bites. "I like hiring smart people. Felicia does all my administration stuff... Well, she did until she was kidnapped."

"I don't want to be your secretary."

"It's not that. There's more at House of M besides the shows I run. Dr. Curt Connors…"

"The Lizard?" Jessica interrupted, her voice filled with surprise. "What about him?"

Tyson knew he was treading into sensitive territory, so he chose his words carefully. "Remember how I said I used my powers to... assist in altering others' worldview? Well, Connors planned to turn the entire city into Lizards. I convinced him, with my powers, to cure himself until he could perfect his serum. And he did. Now he works with me at House of M. I did the same with Ivan Vanko. I convinced him to stop trying to kill Tony Stark and work with me."

Jessica stared at him, her dessert forgotten as she processed this information. "You're mind-controlling the villains you encounter and turning them into your staff?"

Tyson held up his hand in a so-so gesture. "I'm not holding them captive or anything. Connors is back living with his family, sans Lizard-induced psychosis. All his issues and research stemmed from wanting to regrow his arm so he could play ball with his kid, and now he can, all the while working with me and making a salary equal to what he did at Oscorp. And Vanko doesn't have a vendetta against Stark anymore. He's working on clean energy projects and being my resident tinkerer."

"And what would I be doing?" she asked cautiously.

"Whatever you want. Patrol and help people, work in the lab, whatever. I don't micromanage. If I need something, I ask. Otherwise, I don't care."

Jessica mulled over his words, her spoon idly stirring the remains of her dessert. "I'm not sure, but I'll think about it."

"Since we're done eating, let's go," she said, pushing her plate aside.

"Dress shopping," she clarified. Tyson's face broke into a wide grin.

As they stood to leave, Jessica felt a hint of trepidation. Tyson's world was far more complex and nuanced than she had imagined. Magic, gods, superpowers, all filled with shades of gray that challenged her black-and-white notions of heroes and villains.

And she would be stepping into it wearing a dress.

They made their way out of the restaurant and into the streets. As they approached a high-end boutique, Jessica hesitated, her earlier reservations resurfacing. Tyson, sensing her unease, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Look. I know this is a lot to take in. All the changes in your life. The job offer, all of it. But I want you to know I'm not trying to change or control you. I want to give you the opportunity to be the best version of yourself, whatever that looks like."

Jessica met his gaze, searching his mismatched eyes for any sign of deception. Finding only sincerity, she felt some of her tension ease. "I appreciate that. It's just I'm still trying to figure out who I am, you know? And don't get it twisted. I'm here because I chose to be. That and Jubilee strongarmed you into telling me what was going on."

"That's fair," he said. "And I promise, whatever you decide, I'll support you. You should've seen how I was when I tried to discover myself. Robbed the damn Federal Reserve for godsakes."

She felt truly seen and understood for the first time since waking up in that lab.

"Alright," she said, smiling. "Let's find me a dress.'"

Tyson laughed, his tone warm and genuine. "Now that's a mission I can get behind," he said, gesturing with a flourish towards the boutique's entrance.

— Rogue Redemption —

Inside Oscorp Tower, the interior walls were adorned with large screens displaying the company's latest technological advancements and breakthroughs in genetic research. Employees in crisp, white lab coats and tailored business attire hurried through every floor.

Gwen Stacy rushed toward the closing elevator doors on floor sixty-three. "Oh, hold that! Can you hold that, please?" she called out.

The doors were closing, but a man stuck his hands between them, causing the sensors to halt their progress. "I got it," a voice from inside the elevator assured her as he held the doors open.

It was the end of her shift, and Gwen stepped inside the elevator, her eyes falling upon a black man with a terrible comb-over and glasses. "Thank you," she said, offering him a grateful smile. "You're a real gentleman. Most people would have just let those close."

The man returned her smile, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "Most people don't notice other people. Um... I'm Max. Max Dillon."

"I'm Gwen. Nice to meet you," she replied, extending her hand for a friendly shake.

"Nice to meet you," he echoed, accepting her handshake with a slightly nervous grip.

As the elevator descended, she noticed a card in Max's hand, adorned with the words 'Happy Birthday' in colorful lettering. "Is it your birthday?"

Max glanced down at the card, a hint of embarrassment crossing his features. "Oh, yeah. Well, I... They... Friends of mine made this card for me."

"Oh, that's so nice. Well, happy birthday!"

The screen embedded in the elevator flickered to life, displaying the latest news headlines. The anchor mentioned the premiere of a new show at the House of M that evening, capturing Max's attention.

"I have tickets," he said excitedly. "I'm going to the show tonight. You know, Mirage saved my life one time. Out of all the people in the whole city, he saved me. A superhero said he needed me."

A flicker of sadness passed over Gwen's features. She gained an introspective look as Max's words resonated with her, reminding her of her complicated relationship with Peter, a superhero, the man behind the Spider-Man mask.

"That must be a good feeling," she replied, her voice tinged with a subtle melancholy. She wondered if Peter truly needed her or if his heroic alter-ego would always take precedence over their relationship.

The elevator stopped on floor forty-five, and the doors slid open, revealing a man with slick black hair waiting on the other side. He stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto Max.

"Hey, Dillon, just the man I was looking for. I'm going to need you to stay late tonight. There's a current flow problem in the biogenesis lab. Why don't you take a look at that?"

Max's disappointment was evident on his face. "It's my birthday. Everybody else is leaving. Why do I have to stay?"

Gwen recognized the scientist interrupting Max's birthday plans. Mr. Smythe was one of the senior project managers. His father was a lead scientist at Oscorp.

Smythe patted Max on the shoulder. "Because you're special. No one knows the system like you since it was your design. It won't take long, I'm sure."

Several more people entered the elevator, crowding the space and pushing Max towards the doors. He struggled to maintain his position, his eyes darting between Smythe and Gwen as he was forced out.

"Mr. Smythe," Max tried to protest, but the chatter of the other passengers drowned out his voice.

As the doors began to close, Smythe waved dismissively. "Happy birthday," he said, his tone lacking sincerity.

Sensing Max's dejection, Gwen called out to him, "Happy Birthday! It was nice to meet you, Max!"

The doors shut, leaving Max standing alone in the hallway. He mumbled to himself. "She remembered my name."

Gwen leaned against the cramped elevator wall, her thoughts drifting to Peter and their challenges. As the elevator continued its descent, Gwen closed her eyes, her mind replaying Max's words. She wondered if Peter truly understood the impact he had on the lives he touched as Spider-Man. Maybe he did. Maybe that was why they weren't together.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and Gwen entered the bustling lobby. She made her way towards the exit, her heart heavy with the realization that his double life would always complicate her relationship with Peter. She knew that loving a hero meant accepting the sacrifices and uncertainties that came with it, but in moments like when the imposter arrived at her home, she couldn't help but wonder if the price was too high. As she pushed through the revolving doors and stepped onto the busy New York street, Gwen took a deep breath. She glanced up at the towering skyscrapers surrounding her. In a city filled with heroes and villains, she knew Peter, and maybe herself, would always be tested, but she held onto the hope that someday, they would find a way to balance the demands of their lives.

Gwen pulled out her phone and began typing a text to Peter, asking if he was willing to meet her that evening.

Back inside, Max entered the bioelectrogenesis lab. The hum of machinery and the soft gurgling of water filled the air, creating an eerie ambiance. A computerized female voice spoke in the background, its words choppy and skipping, "The G…G…generation of electricity by living organisms to F…F…fend off..."

Max pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket and slipped them onto his face. "Let's see what's going on with you," he said to the computer.

He approached a large tank filled with genetically modified electric eels undulating in the water. Max tapped the glass gently, speaking to the creatures in a friendly tone, "Hey, guys... At least somebody's partying."

The female voice continued, its words fragmented, "The genetically ma… manipulated..."

Max said, "All right," over the glitchy audio. His focus was drawn to a small terminal nearby. The screen flickered with static, and the display was distorted and unstable. Glancing up, Max noticed a tangle of wires sparking in the catwalks far above. "Just a little sick. Mm-hm," he muttered before a small smile sprouted. "I got your medicine, though."

He began climbing the ladders, his hands gripping the rungs tightly as he scaled the floors to reach the problem. As he ascended, he mumbled to himself, frustration seeping into his voice, "I'm so sick that I can't get to my birthday. After all that I put together for this company. Designed the grid..."

Reaching the catwalk, a web of hanging wires surrounded him, their insulation frayed and exposed. The computerized female voice chimed in, "Warning. Malfunction in Sector 5A."

Max replied, his words more for himself than the computer, "I know. Just a little indigestion... I bet you didn't know it was my birthday, huh, did you? Think you can sing 'Happy Birthday' for me? I'll just have to sing it for myself."

Locating the problem's source, Max pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. "Gilbert?" he called out, his voice crackling through the device.

A gruff voice replied, "What?"

"It's Max. Can we shut down power on Sector 32, please?"

Gilbert's response was curt and dismissive, "Forget it. I'm out the door."

"What do you mean? I'm up here. It's dangerous."

"Sorry, Max," Gilbert replied, though his voice was devoid of sympathy. The line went dead, leaving Max alone with the crackling static.

"Hello?" Max asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. Met with silence, he mumbled, "Fine, I'll do it myself. And sing my birthday song, too."

He climbed onto the catwalk's railing, balancing precariously as he reached for the disconnected conduit.

"This is crazy," he muttered under his breath, but began to sing, "Happy birthday... To... Me." He paused, chuckling, "I should have stretched first." Max resumed his impromptu song, "Happy birthday, dear Max."

With a deep breath, Max grasped each end of the conduit, the live wires sparking and hissing in his hands.

He reconnected the two ends with a soft click.

Staring at the connection for a moment, he braced himself for the worst. But there were no explosions, no violent shocks. Max allowed himself a small smile, a flicker of relief washing over him, prompting him to finish the song.

"Happy birthday. To me."

Carefully, he slotted the conduit back into its rack. As the wires clicked into place, a surge of electricity began to flow through his body, and sparks danced across his skin. Max screamed, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably as the current coursed through him.

His footing on the railing faltered, and he slipped, plummeting not onto the catwalk but down the side of the wire-lined tower, level by level. The electricity rendered him helpless as he fell. His muscles locked, and he couldn't move or attempt to arrest his descent.

Max's screams echoed through the lab as he fell. His body twisted and contorted as the live wires still clutched in his hands relentlessly ran electricity through him.

With a sickening splash, Max landed in the tank housing the genetically modified electric eels. The water churned and frothed as the eels swarmed around him, drawn to the electrical disturbance.

Electricity crackled and arced between Max and the eels in a deadly power exchange. The water in the tank began to bubble and boil, the glass straining under the immense pressure. The eels were driven into a frenzy. They attacked Max, their bites leaving deep, bloody gashes in his skin. The build-up of energy reached a critical point, and with a deafening crack, the tank shattered, sending a torrent of water and thrashing eels cascading onto the floor.

The water spread across the ground. Amidst the debris and flopping bodies of the eels, Max's ravaged body lay motionless.

The computerized female voice, oblivious to the horror that had unfolded, declared in a calm, monotonous tone, devoid of the previous stuttering, "System restored. Have a nice day."

As if on cue, the power in Oscorp Tower flickered and died, plunging the building into darkness.

— Rogue Redemption —

The sun was setting when Gwen looked across the crowd and met eyes with Peter, who was making his way toward her.

"Hey," he said warmly with a hint of nervousness.

"Hey."

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket but ignored it. Whoever it was calling could wait.

"You look amazing," he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Gwen ducked her head, blushing faintly. "I'm sorry for the spontaneous outreach. It was kind of..."

"No. I don't... I..." Peter stumbled over his words, trying to find the right thing to say. "Spontaneous... is all right. You know."

"Well, I just figured it was time. You know?" Peter smiled, his heart swelling with hope and uncertainty. Then Gwen finished, "Time that we try to be friends."

Peter's smile faded. "Friends, yeah. That's... great."

Gwen sensed the shift in his demeanor and quickly added, "I just don't want us to be complicated."

"I was just saying that to someone. I hate complicated," Peter replied, trying to mask the twinge of sadness in his voice.

"Keep it simple," Gwen agreed.

"Okay, great. Yeah, yeah. All right." Peter started walking. "Well, I mean...Ha, ha. If we're gonna be friends, I think we gotta establish some ground rules."

"Some ground rules?"

"Yeah, some ground rules," Peter confirmed. Gwen chuckled. "Like that," Peter said, pointing at her.

"Like what?" Gwen asked confused.

"That laugh," Peter clarified. "That laugh. That's off the table."

"My laugh is off the table?"

"Off the table," Peter reiterated, fighting back a grin. "You gotta figure out a more annoying laugh." Gwen attempted to laugh more annoyingly. The sound came out forced and exaggerated. He shook his head. "That's still adorable."

"That was not adorable," Gwen defended, her lips pursed in mock indignation.

"It's adorable," Peter insisted.

"Okay. I have a ground rule. Um..."

Peter's smile widened. "Oh, good. What is it?"

"Uh... Don't tell me that I look amazing with your big brown doe eyes. Okay? I'm really serious about that one."

Peter's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, no. I just figured out the next ground rule."

"What?" Gwen asked.

"No more of this," Peter said, gesturing to his nose. "No more of this little nose rub that you do."

Gwen instinctively reached up to rub her nose, a habit she hadn't even realized she had. "This? What am I supposed to do? It's allergy season," she joked.

Peter threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "This is killing me. You're just spitting in the face of my ground rules. I'm out." He turned and began walking away with exaggerated, theatrical steps.

Gwen let out a genuine, carefree laugh. "Come on."

Peter spun around with a grin plastered on his face. He walked back to her, announcing, "First, we get ice cream, and then I'm out."

Her smile matched his as she agreed, "Deal."