Dennis Carradine woke up to excruciating pain.
It felt as if an axe had split his head open. His wrists throbbed from the pressure of the ropes, his feet dangled in the air, and his body swayed like a ship caught in turbulent waves.
"Where... am I?"
He tried to open his eyes. A dim light trickled in, blurring his vision with overlapping shadows and indistinct shapes.
When he spoke, his voice emerged as a pitiful groan.
He didn't know where he was, but he was sure this wasn't the sea. The air lacked the damp, salty tang of the ocean. Instead, it reeked of dust, rust, and a faint trace of gunpowder, a scent reminiscent of every abandoned factory in Hell's Kitchen.
He had been kidnapped.
The realization struck him quickly. In New York, such things were far from uncommon.
But he couldn't fathom why. He was a small-time thug, barely worth anyone's attention. Who would go through all the trouble to abduct someone like him?
Though his vision hadn't cleared yet, fear and regret surged through him.
Damn it!
If he had known this would happen, he would've stolen some cash, hijacked a car, and fled this cursed city long ago!
"Dennis Carradine."
A strange voice echoed in his ears; sharp, distorted, and layered with an eerie undertone. It reverberated throughout the space, pressing against his chest like a weight, making it hard to breathe.
Dennis's face contorted with terror as he whimpered, "S-sir..."
"Dennis Carradine," the voice repeated. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
As his vision slowly sharpened, Dennis realized he was suspended from the ceiling of an abandoned factory. Nearby, he could make out makeshift iron-sheet fences and walkways. Beneath him, however, there was nothing but empty air.
His heart raced, and his trembling intensified, causing him to swing even more violently.
"I... I don't know, sir..." Dennis stammered, his voice shaking with sobs. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Whatever you need to know, I'll tell you. Please..."
Dennis wasn't brave. As a bottom-tier thug who had failed to make it in Hell's Kitchen, he was terrified out of his wits. Still, he clung to the hope that if he hadn't been killed outright, he might have some value.
All he wanted was to live.
But the figure's next words plunged him into utter despair.
"I just want your life."
"No! Sir, please..." Tears streamed down Dennis's face as he glanced down, he was at least fifty feet above the ground. A fall from this height would leave his brains splattered across the cement floor.
Desperately, he searched for his captor, hoping to glimpse their faces. He wanted to understand how he had offended them, so he could grovel and beg for forgiveness, whatever it took to save his life.
Soon, his eyes landed on a bizarre, lean shadow lurking in the darkness.
"Sir..." Dennis cried out as though spotting a savior. "Don't kill me! Please, I'll do anything, anything—" His words faltered, catching in his throat like a fishbone. His eyes widened in horror, pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
The shadow emerged from the darkness, a creature resembling a velociraptor. Most of its body was covered in black, with its arms and legs streaked with blue. Even its long tail bore vivid blue stripes.
Fasttrack.
The abductor was none other than Bren.
Initially, Bren had planned to monitor Uncle Ben during the critical time after Peter's spider bite, ready to intervene if danger arose. But after his transformation into Fasttrack yesterday, his perspective shifted.
Why wait for tragedy to strike to act?
Crime should be nipped in the bud.
So, he began hunting for clues.
He wasn't sure who in this world would kill Uncle Ben, but he had watched two versions of Spider-Man's story. He had two leads:
In the Tobey Maguire films, Uncle Ben's killer was Flint Marko, aka Sandman. In the Amazing Spider-Man series, the culprit bore a star tattoo on their wrist. This world seemed like a blend of the three Spider-Man universes.
"I hacked into the NYPD's database and found your record, Dennis Carradine."
Bren's voice was sharp with impatience as he paced on a makeshift platform, his skates scraping against the iron floor with a metallic clatter.
"Of all the criminals in New York, only you have a star tattoo on your wrist."
He had also looked into Flint Marko, but the search came up empty.
"If I offended you before, I apologize..." Dennis pleaded desperately.
He had realized Bren had a clear purpose for targeting him, it wasn't some indiscriminate attack by a crazed monster. But Dennis knew he held no value; no one would pay ransom for his worthless life.
His only chance of survival lay in convincing Bren he had made a mistake.
"After I kill you, I'll offer my apologies."
Bren sneered, stepping closer to Dennis. His claw-like hand hovered over the rope suspending Dennis. With one swift motion, he could cut it and send the man plummeting.
He knew this wasn't a righteous act.
Perhaps it made him unworthy of Spider-Man's powers, or even the Omnitrix.
But none of that mattered. He wasn't a hero and didn't aspire to be one.
What mattered was protecting the people he cared about.
"No! No! No!"
Dennis screamed, watching the rope fray under Bren's claws. His terror was so overwhelming that he barely registered what kind of creature Bren was, he only wanted to survive.
"I don't know how I wronged you, but please... please spare me!"
"You don't know? That's fine; I'll tell you." Bren's voice was cold. "You're going to kill a kind, good man. This is your punishment."
"I didn't, I didn't kill anyone!" Dennis sobbed, shaking his head violently.
"Not yet," Bren replied. "But in a few days, you will."
A few days?
Dennis was convinced the creature was mad.
He regretted staying in Hell's Kitchen. He should've left this cursed place long ago.
Now, it was too late.
The only thing he could do was plead:
"I won't! I swear!"
But Bren had no intention of continuing the conversation.
Transformed into Fasttrack, his patience had worn thin. He had already indulged Dennis far more than usual.
With a swift slash, Bren severed the rope.
Dennis's scream echoed as he plummeted. Bren didn't watch. He knew the man would hit the concrete below, his skull splitting like a watermelon.
Boom!
A loud crash echoed through the factory.
But it wasn't the sound of Dennis hitting the ground.
A fiery figure burst through the factory's roof, engulfed in flames.
The shadow streaked past Bren, a wave of scorching heat brushing his face.
In the blink of an eye, the figure caught Dennis just before impact, setting him down gently. Then, with flames streaming from his hands, the figure rose until it was face-to-face with Bren.
"To-ny Stark."
Bren's voice dripped with anger.