Chapter 213

Ali crouched on the edge of a rooftop, his dark eyes locked onto a familiar red-haired teenager as she exited the front doors of a High School in Queens.

Mary Jane Watson.

Her vibrant red hair caught the last golden rays of the sun as she stepped onto the sidewalk, the warmth of the afternoon light casting a soft glow on her youthful face.

She chatted with a few classmates, flashing them an easygoing smile before boarding her school bus, completely unaware that a predator was already watching her every move.

Ali shadowed her silently, leaping across rooftops with effortless grace, his movements silent and precise, mirroring the bus route as it weaved its way through Queens' crowded streets.

After several stops, the bus finally reached its destination.

Mary Jane stepped off, adjusting the strap of her backpack as she started down the familiar streets of her neighbourhood.

Ali's lips curled into a small smirk.

Now was the time to act.

Mary walked at a relaxed pace, her thoughts occupied with the mundane worries of a high school senior.

She passed by an empty alley, one she had walked by countless times before—

But this time, she stopped.

A faint, weak cry echoed from the shadows.

"Help... Huh... Huh... Please... anyone, help!"

The voice was distorted, barely above a whisper, trembling with desperation.

Mary's brows furrowed, her head turning as she scanned the quiet street, searching for someone-anyone-who might have heard the cry for help.

But there was no one else around.

The usual sounds of New York traffic seemed distant, swallowed by the eerie silence of the alley.

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm.

Mary had grown up in the city. She had always considered herself brave-not the type to ignore someone in distress.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, moving with cautious determination.

"Hello? Are you there?"

Her voice broke the silence as she advanced deeper into the alley, her footsteps echoing against the damp pavement.

STEP. STEP. STEP.

The shadows seemed to stretch around her, swallowing the last slivers of afternoon sunlight as she moved further in.

Then, she saw it.

A cellphone, lying atop a pile of discarded trash, its dim screen flickering.

The audio continued playing on repeat:

"Help... Huh... Huh... Please... anyone, help!"

Mary's stomach twisted…

She immediately recognised the situation.

A trap.

Before she could turn-THUD.

A heavy landing echoed directly behind her.

Mary's back stiffened, her muscles going rigid as pure terror shot through her veins.

Her mind screamed at her to run, but it was too late.

She had walked straight into it.

"HEL-"

A large hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and nose, muffling her scream instantly.

UGH-KICK-UGH!

Mary thrashed violently, nails digging into the hand crushing her face, her legs kicking wildly in the air as she fought for her life.

She clawed at his fingers, her nails couldn't even scratch his skin at all, and it did nothing to loosen his grip.

Ali remained unmoved, watching her desperation with cold detachment.

With his free hand, he gripped her throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict her airflow even further.

Her vision blurred, Her lungs burned.

Her body spasmed, her mind desperately searching for oxygen.

Then-her eyes rolled back, and her body went limp.

Ali immediately released her, catching her before she could collapse to the ground.

His fingers brushed her neck, checking for a pulse despite already knowing she was still alive.

'It's always better to make sure.'

Without hesitation, he hoisted her onto his shoulder, effortlessly carrying her like she weighed nothing.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, he pulled out her phone, unlocking it with her Face ID.

At the far end of the alley, a black van was parked, its rear doors wide open, ready to receive its cargo.

Ali stepped inside, securing Mary with thick ropes and duct tape, ensuring she couldn't move or scream.

The doors slammed shut, and the van rumbled to life, pulling into New York's chaotic afternoon traffic.

Thirty minutes later.

Stuck at a red light, Ali drummed his fingers idly against the steering wheel, waiting.

In the back of the van, Mary Jane stirred.

Her head throbbed, her entire body aching.

As she slowly opened her eyes, confusion and terror crashed down on her all at once.

She tried to speak, but-

Nothing.

Her lips were sealed shut, bound tightly with duct tape.

Her wrists and ankles were tied together, the thick ropes digging painfully into her skin.

Her heart raced.

'What? Who? Peter—Help..'

Something thick and warm dripped onto the side of her face.

She froze.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dim light-And her heart dropped.

A man's lifeless body lay beside her.

A middle-aged man, his head tilted awkwardly, his glassy dead eyes staring into nothingness-

With a screwdriver lodged deep into his forehead.

The blood was everywhere.

Sticky. Wet. Seeping into her hair, her clothes, her skin.

Her body locked up, a paralysing wave of terror consuming her.

Then—

"UGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Her muffled scream of pure horror filled the van.

She kicked, thrashed, slammed her body against the walls, desperate to make noise

—to alert anyone outside.

Then—

The van stopped.

The back doors swung open.

A tall, hooded figure stood outside, his face obscured by shadows.

His cold, emotionless voice filled the silence, "You woke up."

Mary Jane's breath hitched, her body frozen in fear.

Ali raised his hand, fingers slowly curling into a fist.

"UGHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Her throat closed, her lungs squeezed shut, as the air was stolen from her body once again.

Her vision blurred.

Back in Queens, Peter Parker quietly pushed up the window to his bedroom, making sure not to make a sound as he slipped inside.

The house was silent, save for the faint noise of the television playing in the living room where his Aunt May was likely watching her favourite late-night show.

Peter exhaled slowly, his body aching from a long day of stopping criminals, chasing down robbers, and breaking up fights.

His mask was still in his pocket, his suit damp with sweat from hours of swinging through the city.

He collapsed onto his bed, arms stretched above his head, his muscles finally relaxing.

DING.

The notification sound cut through the silence, making Peter instantly alert.

He reached for his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe of his thumb.

A message.

'Hey Peter, have you seen Mary? She hasn't come home. We're worried about her.

Do you know where she is?'

Peter's eyebrows furrowed, his exhaustion suddenly forgotten.

He read the message from Mary's family twice, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

'Mary was missing?'

His fingers moved quickly, typing out a response—

"No, I haven't seen her. Did she say where she was going?"

Before he even had time to press send, his phone vibrated again.

DING.

A new message.

Peter's stomach tightened.

It was an image attachment.

He tapped it, and as soon as the photo loaded, his blood ran cold.

Mary Jane.

Bound.

A strip of duct tape covered her mouth, her red hair messy, strands sticking to the tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

Her wide, terrified eyes looked directly into the camera.

But Peter barely noticed any of that—

Because all he could see was the large barrel of a Desert Eagle, pressed right against the side of her head.

Only a single hand was visible in the frame, holding the gun steady as the photo was taken.

Peter felt a sharp chill spread through his chest, his heart hammering against his chest.

His breathing turned shaky, his fingers gripping the phone so tightly he almost cracked the screen.

Then-another message.

"If you want Mary to survive, then come to XX. Do NOT tell anyone about this, or all you're going to find there is her brains all over the floor. No police. No Avengers. No one. I will know if you do. Are you going to risk her life, Peter?"

Peter could barely read the message, his vision blurring with rage.

His mind raced—

'Who? Who could've done this?'

His enemies flashed through his head in rapid succession—but in the end he drew a blank as to who it could be…

'This felt different.'

'This wasn't just some hostage situation-this was personal.'

Peter clenched his jaw, his body trembling with restrained anger.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, quickly typing out a reply—

"What do you want?"

Seconds later, another message came through.

"Come alone quickly, and you'll find out, Spider-Man."

Then-BLOCKED.

The chat vanished, cutting off any chance of response.

Peter's entire body tensed, his breathing ragged.

The room suddenly felt too small, like the walls were closing in on him.

He stared at the screen, his mind screaming at him to think—But there was no time.

His feet hit the floor instantly, his movements quick and sharp as he ripped open the drawer beneath his desk and pulled out his Spider-man suit that iron man gave to him recently.

Mary Jane's frightened face burned in his mind.

Whoever took her was going to regret it.

Far above the city, standing on the top floor of an unfinished building, Ali watched the distant skyline, waiting.

The night air was cold, carrying the scent of concrete dust and steel from the unfinished building.

The rooftop was nothing more than an open framework of metal beams and bare cement floors, with no walls to shield against the wind.

Behind him, Mary Jane lay bound and motionless against a thick concrete support beam, her wrists and ankles wrapped tightly in rope.

Her breathing was shaky, her eyes swollen from crying.

Ali crouched in front of her, resting his arms on his knees.

"Let's see if Peter really cares about you or not."

He reached down, gripping her chin gently, tilting her face up so she was forced to meet his gaze.

Her terrified eyes flickered with confusion, fear, and anger as she stared into his black, unreadable ones.

"If anyone other than him shows up," Ali said, his tone low and calm, "I will kill you."

Mary Jane's muffled screams were swallowed by the duct tape as she thrashed against her restraints, but Ali had already stood up, turning his attention back to the skyline.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious hotel suite, Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers sat before a high-tech laptop, watching the footage looping across the screen.

The feed showed Ali walking calmly through Queens, making deliberate stops at multiple hardware stores, purchasing rope and duct tape—

The very same materials used in Mary Jane's kidnapping.

The footage followed him as he moved through the crowded streets, his face hidden beneath his hood, blending seamlessly with the thousands of other pedestrians.

Then—He turned.

Right toward the security camera.

His black eyes locked onto the lens, as if he could see them watching him.

Natasha's brows furrowed slightly.

Steve exhaled. "He noticed it."

On the footage, Ali smirked at the camera—Then vanished into an alley.

The next camera never picked him up again.

Steve's jaw tightened.

Natasha, ever the professional, remained calm, but he could tell she was already piecing things together in her mind.

Fury's voice came through the laptop speaker. "None of the surveillance in the area found him after that. It's like he turned into a ghost."

Steve crossed his arms.

"And you have nothing else on him? No records at all?"

Fury's voice was gravelly as ever. "Nothing. Just like the one we caught. They're both ghosts."

Natasha's eyes flicked toward Steve, but he remained silent, waiting.

"I asked our guest if he knew Ali, and he said yes. He claimed they were both after the Hydra lab."

Steve's gaze sharpened.

"But after that, he started begging. I couldn't get much else out of him."

Steve exhaled slowly, shifting in his chair.

He didn't like the implications behind Fury's words.

Fury continued, his tone unwavering.

"For now, you two should check the underworld for anything related to the Hydra lab. That's our main lead."

A new encrypted file appeared on their screen, listing several names.

"I've sent you a list of people who operate in the darker parts of the city. Mention my name, and they'll talk."

Natasha scanned the list quickly, memorising the important details.

Steve glanced at her before looking back at the screen. "And if they don't?"

Fury's answer was immediate.

"Then beat the answers out of those motherfuckers."

The call cut off.

Steve sighed. "I hate when he does that."

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