Norman Osborn was not a man to be trifled with. That was the case for ordinary people and for Felix himself. He was too close to the man. Too dependent on him. If anything happened to him or if Felix himself did anything to arouse suspicion from him and it'd be a headache.
"I'm surprised you haven't contacted me yet," Norman continued. "Considering the circumstances."
"Sorry, sorry, I'm at Wakanda."
"Wakanda, hm."
No point in hiding where he was. Slipping in honesty with lies was more convincing.
"That's right. I told you about Princess Shuri, didn't I? She and I are close," Felix explained, "although right now, it seems to have bitten me in the back."
"Problems?"
"A coup attempt, it seems."
There was a beat of unexpected silence. "Hm. Is that right? A moment, please." Currently, this was information only a local within the capital would know. But Norman with a couple minutes of time could probably get his people to confirm it. "So it seems."
"It's wild out here. Internet went on and off. What's happened on your end?" Felix asked.
"Harry died."
"Oh." Felix feigned surprise and let a beat go. "I…I'm sorry for your loss. How did…?"
"He fell. From very high. I'm sure you've seen the news."
"I-I did, I just didn't think…"
"Yes," Norman exhaled loudly, "Harry was one of the victims."
His son died. That was due for genuine pause and sorrow. Whatever conflicted thoughts he had of Norman Osborn, he had to feel for him. He had to. Deep down, there was also the thought of, 'It was my fault. If I hadn't been there, the Auction Master wouldn't have…'
But there was a deeper, darker side of him that thought it was a worthwhile sacrifice. He was closer to the truth and that was what mattered. Harry's death was unfortunate but needed. Simply realizing that thought struck him with shame, since that was exactly what Okoye and W'Kabi were talking about. The superiority that came with his powers.
"When is the funeral?"
"In a week. I want it to be a grand funeral. All of Oscorp will be involved, of course."
"Right—"
"And I want you to replace his seat at the board."
"Huh? His…"
"I want you to become a major investor, yes. If you do not have the money for it, I will supply it."
What…? Right after telling him about his son's death, he was talking about taking his seat? "This…it's a bit sudden."
"I understand. But remember, life stops but business goes on." There was a moment of incredulous disbelief on Felix's part that Norman either did not care for or did not detect. He continued like it was an everyday matter: "Oscorp is what makes New York City operational. What millions of New Yorkers rely on to help repair it. We must rise above the challenges of the ordinary."
'Even your son's death…?'
"...I'll call you later then," Felix said, because what else could he say to that? Of all things, he wanted to give his condolences or maybe, for once, talk to Norman man-to-man. As someone that had also lost people close to him.
But Norman never allowed a second of vulnerability. He heard him nodding on the other end and ending the call. Just like that, Felix was staring at Birnin Zana. The capital was truly beautiful. So was New York. Yet the world was not. What pumped the lifelines of these cities were murky.
He glanced back at the balcony door. 'I should get back to New York City. Check up on things. As for the two inside…well, I already handed them the spider-bots.' Coincidentally, on the patio table, there was a birthday card.
'Might as well leave them a little note…'
Fifteen minutes later, Felicia slid open the balcony door with a lazy shove of her hip, still tying her hair into a loose ponytail. Rogue followed behind her, rubbing sleep from one eye with the heel of her palm.
"Spider?" Felicia called, stepping out into the sunlit balcony. "You done with your private—"
She stopped. The chair where he'd been sitting was empty. The railing was undisturbed.
Rogue blinked hard. "Uh. Did he…leave?"
Felicia took another step forward, squinting over the railing. No sign of him. Not even the faintest pulse of that weird static she'd learned to associate with him.
"Guess so," Felicia said, though her voice sounded oddly small. "Seems like his Herbie robot isn't giving us answers anymore. And I don't think he's invisible and watching us. Unless he is. Perv."
She looked about, hoping for a reaction. Nothing. Rogue nudged her shoulder and pointed to the little patio table. A folded card rested there.
Felicia picked it up and flicked it open.
The message inside was short—just a few clean strokes of pen, neat handwriting that absolutely did not match the chaos he lived in.
Had something to take care of back in New York. If you need me, use the side-buttons on the spider-bots.
—Your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man
Rogue let out a soft, almost fond huff. "So he can write but doesn't talk."
Felicia stared at the signature a moment longer, thumb brushing the bottom of the card.
"…He could've said goodbye," she muttered.
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure vanishin' is his version of goodbye."
Felicia snorted, unable to deny it.
They both looked out across Birnin Zana—morning sun washing over the golden spires, over a city recovering from a night of blood and betrayal.
"Well then—" Felicia said, raising her voice just enough, like she expected the wind to carry it. "Goodbye, Spider."
Rogue followed suit, tipping two fingers off her forehead.
"Thanks for the help, sugar."
The breeze tugged at their hair. No answer came. But both women smiled anyway—because silence, from him, meant he'd heard.
***
Rio Morales's kitchen smelled like heaven: garlic sizzling in olive oil, onions softening, tomato and sofrito blooming into something rich and red and alive. She hummed as she stirred, hips swaying lightly in an absent little dance. The Puerto Rican sunset slipping gold across the mansion she lived in.
Which was when she felt a pair of strong arms slip around her waist, warm and familiar and suddenly there.
"¡Dios mío—!" Rio jerked once, then looked over her shoulder. "F-Felix!? When did you get back?"
Felix only rested his forehead against her shoulder blade and inhaled. No words at first—just the quiet, exhausted sound of someone finally letting himself collapse into safety. Rio softened almost instantly, smiling as she nudged him with her elbow.
"You scared the life out of me, sneaking in like that," Rio chided lightly, though she leaned into him. "Dinner'll be ready in a moment."
He grunted something that was probably okay but sounded more like let me stay like this. She laughed and resumed stirring.
He had meant to go to New York.
He should have gone to New York. Osborn needed him. SHIELD probably wanted to interrogate him. He had responsibilities, threads pulling at him from every direction. A web that was tightening.
Harry died. Pepper Potts died. There was a coup, a devil, an Auction Master, and it was all tangled around him. Maybe Okoye and W'Kabi were right—maybe having powers, having influence, had made him arrogant enough to think he could control outcomes. Like he was above consequence.
He couldn't face any of that.
Not tonight.
So instead of steering toward New York, he had gone where his body needed to be. Where he could breathe. Where someone cared about him and not Spider-Man, not the Vibranium he stole, not the consequences.
Puerto Rico. Rio.
Here.
He slipped into a chair at the kitchen island, cheek resting on his fist as he watched her. Every stroke of her spoon tugged the exhaustion from him, one thread at a time.
Soon enough, Rio plated dinner. It was arroz con gandules, pernil roasted until the skin crackled, and freshly fried tostones. She set the plate in front of him with the kind of pride only a woman who adored cooking for someone could manage.
Felix took one bite, closed his eyes, and let out a noise so blissful Rio had to laugh.
"You act like you haven't eaten in days."
"I haven't eaten this," Felix replied between mouthfuls, shoveling pernil like it was salvation. "God, I missed your cooking."
They sat together, knees brushing occasionally, laughing in little bursts as they ate. Rio talked about the contractors fixing the pool deck, about a stray cat that kept sneaking onto the property, about a charity event she was considering hosting.
"I still can't believe my mom is in Paris," Rio said. "All my life she always insisted on staying in Puerto Rico and now she took herself and her friends to Europe! It's...I mean..."
"Seems wrong?"
"Feels wrong. She never said she'd be into travelling. But, well, I guess you never realize you want something until you get it."
Felix listened. Genuinely listened, and all the guilt seeped away, replaced with something warm, grounding, human.
"Hey," he said suddenly, wiping his mouth. "What do you think about…a date?"
Rio blinked. Then an amused grin slowly spread across her face.
"A date date? With me?"
"No other pretty lady to date around here."
Rio chuckled, shaking her head as she nudged his arm. "I'd love that. But is it one of those long dates? We go there and then there and then there…or a simple one."
"Hm…we can both on different dates. Doesn't have to be one date, we can have two. If it's a long one, I can get Sue to…" he trailed off.
Rio didn't get it. She just continued on, "Oh, yes, Sue. Where is she, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Oh...um...she's probably...waiting at..." Felix slowed down more and more until he froze.
Rio paused mid-bite. "Felix? What's wrong?"
In his mind: 'Herbie, where is Sue?'
The AI responded instantly. 'SUE IS EN ROUTE BACK TO NEW YORK. I BOOKED HER FLIGHT AND ARRANGED EXIT DOCUMENTATION. YOU LEFT HER IN DELHI, BUT DO NOT WORRY—I MANAGED EVERYTHING.'
Felix slapped a hand over his face. "Oh thank Christ…"
Rio tilted her head. "…are you okay? What did you do?"
"I—uh—might have accidentally abandoned my butler on another continent."
"Huh?"
"I, err…so there was this…Spider-Man thing…had to go to different continents and stuff, and, uh…in the process, might have left Sue stranded."
Rio burst out laughing—hand over her stomach, head thrown back.
"I-it was an emergency! Really," Felix insisted. "You'll be hearing about it all over the news! Trust me!"
Rio's laughter only grew louder. And somehow…somehow her laughing at him, instead of scolding him, instead of being afraid of him, made something tight in his chest unwind.
He laughed too. He needed that.
…
…
…
At Delhi International Airport, Sue stood fully dressed in her immaculate uniform, rolling a silver suitcase behind her as she boarded the plane with the kind of elegant dignity only a lifelong professional could manage.
An airline attendant smiled. "Long trip home?"
Sue nodded with an equal smile. "Longer than expected."
Underneath smile, she was livid. The old Sue Storm, the one that was arrogant and conceited, was not yet back. Her memories were still gone. But the personality was bubbling up.
"…Young master is going to pay for this."
Sue adjusted her cuffs and stepped onto the plane.