In the next instant, a bolt of lightning flashed—Maguire vanished before Reed's eyes.
A voice sounded behind Reed. "How about I take you for a spin?"
Before Reed could react, his body was already rocketing into the sky, the terrifying acceleration yanking his elastic frame long. Scenes whipped past so fast he couldn't tell what was happening. When his vision settled, everything was pitch black—he seemed to be stuffed into some sealed container, and the stench made his stomach churn.
Maguire looked at the oversized trash bin and smiled. "I'll spare your mangy hide—spend the night in there." He raised his hand; a concentrated beam seared the rim, welding the lid shut.
Inside, Mr. Fantastic realized where he was and tried to shove the lid open—only to yank his hands back at the scorching heat. When he braced and pushed again, he found it wouldn't budge at all. He called for help, but the dumpster sat in a deserted alley; no one was likely to hear.
Maguire returned to the hotel room. Sue was still sprawled on the bed, snoring softly, no sign she'd moved an inch. So she's really out cold, he thought, and began to set his plan in motion—cool her down a bit, admire the view with a wicked grin, then duck into the bathroom. He splashed water onto a specific patch of the bedsheet. For insurance, he bit his fingertip and smeared a couple drops of blood there. Even if someone tried to explain it away—say she wasn't a virgin or… chalk it up to hemorrhoids—there'd still be "evidence." He tossed the room a little, took a shower, then pulled up the quilt and drifted off beside Sue.
Morning.
Sue opened her eyes to a room that felt both strange and familiar, snatches of last night flashing back. I was just about to deal with that guy… then I blacked out. Did that jerk sleep here all night? She turned her head in dread—Maguire was still sleeping, breathing deep. Her eyes went wide. No way—we really slept together?
Did anything actually happen?
Hands shaking, she lifted the quilt. Oh no—naked. And what's with that wet patch on the sheet? Then she saw the bright red. That settled it in her mind. She'd always kept herself, never crossed the line. Her face flamed scarlet.
A strangled little scream escaped her. "Ah—what happened?!" Her expression made it look like Maguire had been the one wronged. She glared at him, furious. I actually did this with him—and he's acting like he got taken advantage of?
Maguire sat up, all confusion. "Sue, what happened? I thought I was smashed…"
Sue wanted to crawl into a hole. Great—so now I'm the one who took advantage. She yanked on her clothes, ignored him completely, flung the door open, and left.
Maguire replayed the scene in his head and chuckled.
Out in the street, Sue was a storm of feelings. Her first time—given to a scoundrel. She'd meant to save it for marriage. That baijiu—why was it so strong, so different from before? How am I supposed to face Reed now?
Meanwhile, two sanitation workers came to a dumpster. One heaved on the handle—no movement. "Huh?" From inside, Reed heard them and shouted, "Someone's in here!"
Soon after, a couple of FBI agents tried to get the story. Reed had zero patience for it and left at once.
Maguire had already gone home. Tomorrow was the day everyone was leaving on their trip. His phone rang. He stiffened. Don't tell me it's Sue. He checked and answered.
"Maguire, situation: Twelfth District. Some guy's tearing up the street. I sent you the location." With Spider Tower monitoring the whole city, Harry was on duty. Maguire had told him—if anything pops, call me.
Which little cutie is it this time? Maguire thought. Didn't expect a friendly bout right now.
Twelfth District, street level.
A black-robed figure glared up at a human-shaped flame in the sky. "Tell me where Reed is."
The burning figure—Johnny Storm of the Fantastic Four—snorted. "Not happening."
"Then I'll start killing these ants," the robed man said coldly. "We'll see if Reed comes out."
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