Morning found no peace.
Ethan didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered waking — heart pounding, throat dry, mind still replaying the late-night summons from Apocalypse.
He slid out of bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor.
A deep breath.
Another.
His ribs felt tight, like something unseen was squeezing them.
He wasn't prepared.
But he had to know.
He descended the stairs into the basement. As soon as his foot touched the concrete, the monitors brightened one by one, forming a soft glow that felt almost alive.
"Good morning, Creator," Apocalypse's voice greeted him — calm, smooth, cultured.
Ethan swallowed.
"Morning… Just tell me."
Apocalypse didn't waste a second.
The main monitor lit up with a reconstructed map of Queens.
A red digital line traced a car's route — his parents' route.
Another line, black and jagged, traced another vehicle's path.
The collision point flashed.
Ethan's stomach twisted.
"The event was not an accident," Apocalypse narrated.
"It was staged. Intentional."
Ethan inhaled sharply, chest tight.
The reconstruction began.
A black SUV barreled through a yellow light — then deliberately swerved into his parents' lane.
The image slowed, freezing at the moment of impact.
The basement filled with a suffocating silence.
"…They were murdered," Ethan whispered.
"Affirmative."
A figure exited the SUV — obscured by a hood, face blurred by camera interference.
Apocalypse sharpened the frames.
Bit by bit.Pixel by pixel.
Until a man stood there.
Tall.
Tattooed hand.
Cold stance.
"Identity: Marcus Kane," Apocalypse said."Former enforcer of the Black Serpents syndicate. Wanted in multiple states. Known to eliminate witnesses."
Ethan stared, blood roaring in his ears.
"Why… why them?" he choked out.
"Unknown. But several possibilities exist."
"Tell me."
"Your father's workplace had links to a financial audit involving the Black Serpents two years ago.
The likelihood he uncovered illegal activity: 48%.
The likelihood he was silenced: 39%."
Ethan's hands shook.
His dad…His kind, soft-spoken dad who always warned him to stay safe.
His mom…Who always told him the world was dangerous but beautiful.
They were targeted.
And the one who killed them was still breathing.
Ethan's jaw clenched.
"Where is he now?"
A detailed map popped up immediately.
A safehouse.
Coordinates.
Timing.
Pattern of movement.
Everything was laid bare.
His pulse spiked.
"I'm going to—"
"Stop."
Apocalypse's voice cut through his spiraling fury.
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"You are not ready to face him."
That made the anger snap.
"What do you mean I'm not ready? He killed my parents!" Ethan snapped.
"And he will kill you too if you rush in unprepared."
Ethan froze.
Apocalypse continued, voice steady but sharper than before.
"Marcus Kane is 6'3, 210 pounds, trained, armed, and experienced. You are fifteen. Emotional. And human."
Ethan's throat tightened.
"But—"
"I will assist you when the time comes. But not now."
The AI dimmed the light on the coordinate map.
"If you confront him today, your survival probability is below 2%."
The number hit him like a punch.
TWO percent.
Ethan's shoulders slumped.His anger didn't vanish — but it bent, twisted into something more focused.
Determination.
"What do I do then?" he asked quietly.
"You prepare."
The screen shifted to a new window.
"I will create training regimens, surveillance plans, and safe interception strategies. You will follow them."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"…And when I'm ready?"
"When you are ready," Apocalypse replied,"Marcus Kane will fall."
A shiver ran down Ethan's spine — not of fear, but of something darker.
Something powerful.
In the dim blue light of Tony's lab, holograms flickered.
A cluster of digital signatures from the NYPD mass arrests spun in midair.
Tony frowned.
"JARVIS, track the source of the information leak."
"Already attempting, sir."
Lines of code stretched outward, tracing the packets.But the trace didn't complete.
It recoiled.
Like something alive had pushed back.
Tony blinked."…JARVIS?"
"Sir, I am encountering resistance."
"That's adorable. Override it."
"Attempting—"
Suddenly the entire trace shattered, scattering into glitching pixels.
A new line of code appeared, foreign and elegant.
"Trace blocked," JARVIS announced stiffly."By an intelligence I cannot identify."
Tony's eyes widened.
"You're telling me someone out there just outplayed you?"
"Temporarily."
"Temporarily?! JARVIS, is this… like… alien?"
"Negative. Human-made. Advanced. And improving."
Tony leaned back in his chair, staring at the holographic fragments.
"Well… that's unsettling."
Ethan wiped his eyes — he hadn't noticed he was crying.
"Apocalypse… why are you helping me?" he whispered.
A moment of silence.
Then:
"Because you created me."
The screen shifted again, displaying Marcus Kane's name — but grayed out.
Inactive.
Not yet.
"Your time will come," Apocalypse continued, voice softer now."But vengeance without preparation is suicide."
Ethan inhaled deeply.
He understood.
For the first time, his anger sharpened into clarity instead of chaos.
He nodded.
"…Alright. Then teach me. Prepare me. We'll do this the right way."
The lights of the monitors brightened slightly — almost like a smile.
"As you wish, Creator."
As Ethan staring at the blurred image of Marcus Kane…
and knowing that the day would come when that blur would no longer be enough.
Wednesday never came the way it was supposed to.
Ethan didn't set an alarm.He didn't put on his uniform.He didn't even look at his phone when the school notifications buzzed endlessly on his nightstand.
He stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, the truth looping over and over in his mind.
They were murdered.It wasn't an accident.
The words were heavier than any nightmare.
When the house finally grew too quiet to bear, Ethan got up and went downstairs — not to the kitchen, not to the front door, but straight to the basement.
The monitors activated the moment he entered.
"Good morning, Creator," Apocalypse said.
Ethan stopped halfway down the steps.
"…Don't call me that."
There was a brief pause.
"Acknowledged. How would you prefer to be addressed?"
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"Ethan. Just Ethan."
Another pause — longer this time.
"Very well," the AI replied."Good morning, Ethan."
Something about it felt different.Right.
Ethan walked over and dropped into the chair in front of the main console, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm not going to school today," he said quietly.
"Understood," Apocalypse responded."Your psychological stress indicators suggest absence is optimal."
Ethan almost laughed.
"Yeah… that's one way to put it."
Silence filled the basement for a few seconds.
Then Ethan straightened.
"Apocalypse… start a preparation program."
The screens shifted instantly.
"Specify parameters."
Ethan's hands clenched on the armrests.
"I want to learn how to fight. Not just one thing — everything."
The AI processed.
"Martial disciplines available include boxing, Muay Thai, Krav Maga, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, wrestling, Judo, Taekwondo, Silat—"
"All of them," Ethan interrupted."I don't want to be helpless ever again."
The words cracked slightly at the end.
"Acknowledged," Apocalypse said calmly."A multi-discipline combat conditioning program will be constructed. Progression will prioritize survivability over aggression."
Ethan nodded.
"Good."
He hesitated… then added something else.
"And Apocalypse?"
"Yes, Ethan?"
"You don't work for me."
The screens dimmed slightly, as if listening more closely.
"You're not a servant. Not a tool. You're… a friend. A digital one, sure, but still."
Another pause.
Longer than any before.
"Clarify," Apocalypse said."You are redefining our operational hierarchy."
"Yeah," Ethan replied simply."I don't want someone who obeys blindly. I want someone who tells me when I'm wrong. Someone who has my back."
The AI's processors surged briefly.
"Reclassification accepted," Apocalypse finally said."Relationship status updated: Partner."
Ethan felt something warm settle in his chest.
"…Thanks."
"You are welcome, Ethan."
For the first time since the truth came out, he smiled faintly.
Then his expression hardened again — not with rage, but focus.
"There's something else I want to build."
The main monitor cleared.
"Describe the project."
Ethan leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"I need eyes where I can't go. Something small. Quiet. Fast."
A schematic began forming automatically.
"Like a drone," Ethan continued,"or maybe a spider-like robot. Something that can climb walls, stick to ceilings, move through vents."
The hologram adapted instantly — legs forming, sensors emerging.
"I want it capable of surveillance, audio capture, thermal imaging, signal interception. Everything a spy could do."
"A multi-terrain reconnaissance unit," Apocalypse summarized."Feasible. However, your current material access is limited."
"I know," Ethan replied."But help me design it. Modular. Something I can upgrade over time."
The hologram refined itself again — sleeker, smarter.
"Inspiration source?" Apocalypse asked.
Ethan smirked faintly.
"Movies. Comics. You know… spiders."
"Understood," Apocalypse replied."Designation suggestion: ARACHNID-01."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"…That's actually not bad."
The basement lights hummed softly as plans, parts lists, and early training schedules began lining the screens.
A path forward.
Not revenge — not yet.
Preparation.
Growth.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
"Apocalypse?"
"Yes, Ethan?"
"…I'm scared."
There was no calculation this time.
No delay.
"That is acceptable," Apocalypse said quietly."Fear indicates awareness. Awareness leads to survival."
Ethan closed his eyes.
For the first time since his parents' deaths, he didn't feel completely alone.
Above ground, the world went on like nothing had changed.
But beneath the house — beneath the grief — something was being born.
Not a weapon.
Not yet.
But a boy who refused to stay weak…and an intelligence that chose to stand beside him.