In Marvel as Dante

 

Peter told me exactly what happened, and I realized he was far more prepared for the mantle of Spiderman than I gave him credit for.

It turns out that it was Coulson who saved his uncle from the bounty hunter. The hunter apparently made his way across town after sustaining a major injury from one of my glancing blows, and he broke into their apartment to take refuge.

Uncle Ben put up a fight and got stabbed for his troubles.

The man was about to go after Aunt May when Peter stepped up. The hunter got a few licks in before Coulson showed up and put a hole in the bastard's brain.

"Do you think the agent did the right thing? I mean he could've rescued you without going for the kill shot."

Peter took on a somber look.

"I'm not losing sleep over his death, if that's what you're asking, but I would've taken a less lethal option if it was available."

I nodded. "Good answer," I said. "Killing isn't something that should come easy, but sometimes there are no better options."

"Are you talking about those things that you faced?"

"Yup. I must've cut through hundreds of them during the demon attack," I said. "When you're in the thick of it, with enemies boxing you in at all sides, sparing your opponents shouldn't be your first priority, not if the alternative means your death."

Peter gulped. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're a smart boy, Peter. That attack is only the beginning. I'm moving heaven and earth trying to make sure we can stop the lunatic behind all of this, but there are no guarantees," I said. "You might have to protect yourself and your family again before all this is over. I'd rather you not die."

Peter's lips formed a thin line, and he looked at me, mind racing. We were just houses away from his place. He clearly had a lot to say, but were out of time.

I materialized a vail of healing potion and handed it to Peter. "Make sure your uncle drinks that. Every last drop," I said.

"What's in it?"

"Magic and a tidbit of my soul," I chuckled, and he got the sense that I wasn't lying.

"Magic,” he mouthed. “Is that how you do everything you can do?"

"What else could it be?" I smiled at him and then produced a wad of cash. It was about 20k

"Before you go on about handouts and debts and it's not right," I said, "It's not about any of that. This is about your Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Those bounty hunters were in New York for me. And after all those hospital bills, your family could really use it. As for where it came from," I produced a new phone, opened up the camera, and pulled Peter in for a selfie with my glasses raised. "That should make sure they believe you. My phone number is also in there. Call me in case of emergencies, and I really do mean emergencies."

I kicked Peter out before he could get in a word of protest and waved him goodbye. I wanted to kid myself that the interaction had been completely calculated and there was a real reason behind everything I did, but I really did feel for Peter.

The money should, at the very least, take the edge off financially and give him the cash he needed to put together a half-decent starter suit when the Spiderman thing finally happened.

---

Jean POV

I appeared in front of Matt Murdock's apartment just as he finished with the last of his bandages. He'd had a particularly hard night at the docks dismantling, yet another Hand trafficking Ring, and the ninjas had been lying in wait with hatchets and knives.

He'd succeeded with his mission but barely got out alive. Downing a glass of whiskey followed by a veritable cocktail of painkillers was becoming a nearly daily habit. It was a small miracle Foggy hadn't discovered his injuries.

Matt was instantly on alert when he picked up a new heartbeat outside his door, and he slowly rose to his feet.

"I'm not here to fight you, Matt Murdock," I spoke in a soft voice.

He heard me easily through the door, and his heartbeat spiked. A dozen thoughts raced through his panicked mind before concluding that I was an enemy ninja who followed him back home after the mission last night to finish the job. How else could I walk up to his door without him hearing me coming?

Still, he found it odd that I would announce myself and allow him to prepare himself. Hand ninjas were not known for being honorable.

Perhaps it was pride then.

I almost chuckled at his frantic reasoning. His fears were not entirely unfounded.

"What are you?" he demanded in a low voice to test how keen my senses were.

"A mutant," I said. "I'm sure you must've heard of us."

Talks of the mutant registration act had been popping up again in light of our latest heroics after the attack, but Matt hadn't been paying much attention to it. Court cases and his nightly activities had consumed every waking moment.

"You're like that man with white-hair on the news," he said.

"He's a good friend of mine," I said, "and we have a common enemy. What if I told you that the Hand is responsible for the attack on New York."

Matt froze. He trembled at the thought.

He'd been mired in violence for weeks now, trying to set things right in Hell's Kitchen, helping the neighborhood return to some semblance of normalcy.

"That's impossible. The Hand's soldiers are masked ninjas and undead men. They thrive in the shadows. They don't—"

"Operate in public? Work with actual demons?" I asked. "Where do you think their reanimation magic comes from? Respectfully, you know next to nothing about the opponent you've sworn to defeat. And it's going to get you killed."

"How do you know so much? Why should I trust you?" Matt demanded.

'Because I can read people's mind,' I spoke telepathically as I stepped into the room via a portal. "And I could've killed you if I wanted to. And so could the Hand."

Matt jumped, flipping backward, Hand reaching for a knife in his kitchen. He considered my words carefully before he decided to listen to what I had to say.

He hadn't the first clue on how to stop me yet, but he knew he'd make it out of this somehow. He'd been in tighter spots.

"That confidence of yours will get you killed," I said, earning a slight frown from Matt.

He was a bit full of himself, but I supposed he'd earned the right to. He'd dismantled entire criminal organizations with nothing but his fists.

"Anybody told you that was annoying?"

"I usually don't tell them I can read their minds," I smiled at him, but that didn't put him any more at ease.

"You said I was uninformed," he said, relaxing his stance. "So, educate me."

"I can best describe the hand as a pet project of a half-demon named Domina."

Matt paled, his stoic façade instantly dropping. "Demons? As in actual biblical fallen angels?"

"Domina and her kin don't come from any holy book," I said. "As my friend and master explain it, they're technically aliens from another dimension hellbent on world domination."

"You can't actually expect me to believe that?"

I raised a finger and made half of his apartment float. "They're no stranger than what we already have on earth. They're just more hostile."

Matt's body tensed. His senses perceived the impossible. I gently set the objects in his apartment down, and although he tried not to give away much, I could feel the panic rolling off him in waves.

"Assuming what you're saying is true…then why would this Domina bother with setting up international Cartels and Human trafficking rings."

"Truthfully, I think it's out of boredom and profit than anything else," I said.

Matt's mouth went dry, and he settled in a chair on the corner. "They see us as playthings." It was more of a statement than a question, but I answered anyway.

"Yes," I said. "Regrettably so. And while you're doing great work fighting them on the ground-level in Hell's kitchen, we have a more immediate solution to the bigger problem."

"You want to kill her," Matt said, with a tinge of concern in his voice. I recognized it.

"Your compassion is misplaced," I said. "Domina and her family have murdered millions of people in the short 20 years that they've been allowed to operate on the surface, enslaved and experimented on hundreds of thousands, and will probably wipe us all out given the opportunity. They all need to go," I spoke with a finality that put Matt more on edge than my proclamation of the demons' deeds.

That could be a problem. I could've mentally pushed him and made Matt more amenable to my demands, but I knew that would make me worse than Charles. Manipulation was reserved for my enemies, not my friends and potential allies.

"But we can't win in a direct war against the demons. Their numbers are too great. However, we can close gates they're using to travel to our world permanently," I said. "That is why we need fighters like you."

"You can do all sorts of things with your mind and the news say that your partner can manipulate fire. I don't see how I could possibly help you?"

"Maybe not as you currently are," I said. "But you have the potential for so much more."

"I'm not sure that's what I want," he said. "Power had a habit of corrupting people, even those with the best of intentions."

"You seem fairly well adjusted," I pointed out. "You can see better than most with no eyes, and you're one of the best fighters in the country. On top of all of that, your endurance is borderline superhuman. All those advantages have not turned you into a monster."

"Seeking out fights at night dressed in all black isn't exactly well adjusted either," he said.

"And what's the alternative?" I questioned. "Let people suffer when you can clearly hear them. Let the demons plunge humanity back to the dark ages? Power is a lot like money. It doesn't change you. It only reveals what's underneath. And all I've seen in the time I've watched you is a genuine desire to help people. Do you have darkness in you? Yes, but so does everybody, and if you join us, you'll have resources to overcome that darkness.  Don't let fear be the reason you refuse the call of duty," I said, then telekinetically floated a phone I had in my pocket to him.

"Call the first number on Speed dial when you're ready, and it should go without saying, tell no one about this meeting."

I opened another portal with a twist of my fingers and stepped through.

---

Rin

I walked into the Dojo on the address the boss gave me came face to face with the woman who ran it.

She was in her mid-twenties and slightly on edge when she saw me. Though she hid it fairly well, I could see the tension in her muscles. It was like a coiled spring, ready to lash out at the slightest moment.

"Can I help you, kid?" she asked.

"You're Colleen Wing?"

"I am. You looking to sign up?" she asked, and I shrugged off my jacket.

"No," I said, “I'm here to kick your teeth in. The leader of your crazy group is responsible for what happened in Culver University and New York. It nearly got me and my friends killed, and you're going to help me get to her."

Colleen blinked, my body immediately tensing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not a very good liar, are you?"

I moved, closing the distance between us, and kicked out. Colleen stepped to the side masterfully and tried to sweep out my leg from under me, but I flipped and lashed out. It broke through her guard and sent her flying into the wall.

I winced.

My power control still needed more work. Dante had given a thousand and one lectures about holding back when fighting against regular people. Logan had been a great partner to test my limits, but I was constantly injuring him even when I didn't mean to.

"Get up," I said, deepening my voice, and Colleen looked up at me with some measure of surprise.

"I'm not going to fight you, kid. What I am going to do is call the police," she said, springing up to her feet as she circled the room, moving towards one of her sparring swords.

I scoffed. "Call the police? Don't you mean your boss, Bakudo? Ever wonder who he answers to?"

Colleen froze for a beat at the mention of her mentor's name, and I pounced. She rolled to the side, dodging my kick, snatching her bokken as she came up and took a defensive stance, angling to the side.

"That won't save you," I said and pounced again with a kick, but this time, she was ready for me, lashing out with an extended stab to the chest as she stepped out of the way of my attack. I wove under the hit, mimicking the same technique she used, and we began to spar in earnest.

I went after with a controlled frenzy, dishing out punches, kicks, knees, elbows, all attempting to overwhelm her, but Colleen the swordswoman was vastly different from Colleen the martial artist. She kept her distance, checking my advances with precise strikes from her bokken, switching stances when she thought appropriate, and weathered my attacks with as much grace as her petite form could manage. She targeted weak spots, trying to drive me back, but each hit made her blade vibrate in her hand, nearly throwing her off her game.

After a minute of defending, I relented the slightest bit, and she went on the offensive, blending feints, footwork, and aggressive sword strikes into a devastating style that would've overwhelmed most, but it hardly left welts on my forearms. The fight came to an abrupt stop when I punched her bokken instead of trying to dodge or parry it as I'd typically did and shattered it. I sent her flying into the wall with a half-hearted palm strike to the chest, which drove the air out of her lungs.

She was struggling to stand as I came close with an anger I didn't have to fake. "Her name is Domina, and she's the devil. New York and Culver are not her only massacres. Look into what happened in Japan in the 80s. The entire underworld collapsed, and one woman rose to the top. I know it was her because somebody who was there described her down to the color of her eyes," I said. "The second I saw her at Culver, I knew we were fucked. Every finger of the hand reports to her despite what Bakudo might tell you," I said, "and the means you're training the foot soldiers of a mass murderer."

Colleen's eyes went wide.

I squatted down to her level and produced a cell phone. "I don't expect you to believe me, but you should be the tiniest bit curious. Call me when they try to kill you."

Rising to my feet, I picked up my jacket, and behind me, Colleen was already on her feet, hands wrapped around her white Katana, ready to draw it.

I paused.

"You're a liar just trying to get into my head."

"We will see, won't we?" I said, stepping out with a goofy smile. That went better than I expected. I stuck to the script and didn't break anything.

The boss would be proud.