[Third Person's PoV]
Secluded Military Base – North Carolina
Nestled deep within the hidden recesses of North Carolina's forests, far from prying eyes and civilian interference, stood a fortified military installation—its perimeter heavily guarded, its purpose long scrubbed from official records. Inside, in the central chamber of the base, a figure sat motionless upon a floating metallic throne that hummed with soft, ominous energy.
The figure was unlike any normal man. His skin bore a rich, unnatural green hue, not the olive of camouflage, but something darker, more vibrant—alien. Yet even more striking than his skin was the grotesque size of his head, ballooned and pulsing slightly with cerebral energy. A sharp widow's peak formed an "M" shaped hairline across his scalp.
Samuel Sterns—though he no longer referred to himself by that name—had embraced a new identity: The Leader.
He sat pensive, regal almost, in a custom-built throne designed to amplify his already monstrous mental faculties. The chair was suspended a few feet above the ground, rotating gently as if weightless, connected to the base's systems and tuned to enhance his psychic powers and capabilities. These abilities had been unlocked after a fateful exposure to Bruce Banner's irradiated blood—an accident that granted him powers not of brawn like Hulk, but of mind.
Before him stood a small army—not of soldiers, but of humanoid constructs. Synthetic beings made of a strange, flexible material designed to absorb and deflect powerful impacts. These were not mere robots; they were adaptive combat units, engineered specifically to battle superhuman foes. Their featureless faces and silent stillness made them all the more unnerving.
The Leader placed two fingers to his temple, narrowing his glowing green eyes in concentration. His voice echoed not aloud, but across the psychic plane.
"Kraven... Do you hear me? How is the plan progressing?" he asked calmly, the words reverberating through the telepathic channel he'd established long ago.
A pause. Then, a voice echoed directly into his mind, tinged with savage satisfaction.
"Spectacularly..."
The Leader smiled subtly, allowing the hunter to elaborate.
"The show went well, great even. I've baited the prey—let them see exactly what I wanted them to see. I made it seem like I had plans for my brother, and I've ensured they were watching closely. The false narrative has been seeded. They believe my operation has stalled. Meanwhile, all I await are the weapons you promised me."
The Leader's eyes flickered as he responded coldly, "They're already en route. You'll have your toys soon enough. But remember the deal—"
"I don't need reminding," Kraven snapped mentally, his voice laced with primal confidence. "This is a mutual arrangement. The spiders are mine to hunt. The green brute is yours to do with however you wish. I don't question your intentions—so don't question my methods."
The Leader's eyes narrowed slightly. "Make no mistake, Hunter—the only reason I tolerate this partnership is because of your ability to keep the spiders distracted. That is your singular purpose in this operation. If you fail in that, everything I've built—everything I've orchestrated—falls apart. I must ensure that you can fulfill your end, so mine can reach full fruition."
His chair shifted, gliding silently across the lab, now hovering before three massive cylindrical tanks filled with greenish fluid and bathed in dim sterile light. Thick cables and wires were connected to each one, feeding data and power to the containment units.
His eyes settled on the first tank.
Suspended inside, curled into a protective fetal position, was a tall, powerfully built woman. Her skin was a luminous shade of green, and her hair—a long black mane—floated freely in the viscous liquid. Despite her peaceful expression, the muscles in her arms and legs twitched intermittently, reacting to the constant energy flowing through her.
Label: JENNIFER WALTERS
Thick cables snaked from the ceiling and floor into the chamber, pumping unknown substances into the containment unit, maintaining her sedated yet stable condition.
In the second chamber stood a man with a stern, rugged face. His skin had turned a molten red, glowing faintly with heat, but his expression remained disturbingly rageful—even in unconsciousness.
Label: THADDEUS 'THUNDERBOLT' ROSS
His body radiated suppressed rage, a slumbering inferno barely contained by the fluid and restraints surrounding him.
And finally, in the third tube, was a woman. Her skin was white—at least partially. It was rapidly shifting, darkening, transforming. Her body convulsed slightly as her form began to change. Muscles thickened, bones stretched, and her hair lengthened and darkened. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes shut tight in resistance, but the transformation was accelerating.
Her metamorphosis was eerily similar to the man in the second tube.
Label: BETTY ROSS
"What you do with the spiders is of no consequence to me—only that they remain distracted and kept far away from Bruce," the Leader said coldly, his sharp gaze fixed on Jennifer Walters. "His blood... is the key to everything."
Kraven let out a low chuckle, his voice tinged with cruelty. "This is why our little alliance works so well. We both want entirely different things. Different hungers, satisfied by the same hunt." His tone sinister and satisfied, the smile in his voice unmistakable.
The Leader paused, his fingers steepling together as he spoke thoughtfully. "There is one additional matter... the main spider. Spider-Man. I want his DNA as well."
Kraven's demeanor changed instantly. His amused expression vanished, replaced by a snarl. "What? That wasn't part of the agreement. The spiders were mine to hunt. Mine to deal with however I pleased."
"And they still are," the Leader replied evenly, unbothered. "You may do with them as you wish—kill them, unmask them, mount them on your wall as trophies. Their motives, their identities—none of that interests me in the slightest. But consider this doing me a favor. A side project of mine if you will. Something extra."
Kraven didn't respond immediately, his silence filled with growing suspicion.
The Leader continued, voice now laced with curiosity. "You don't have to comply, of course. But this Spider-Man... he intrigues me. He managed to withstand a blow from the Hulk—and stop it. I must understand it. I suspect he's taken precautions — countermeasures built into his suit, genetic scrambling, all of it. But he made a fatal error... he didn't account for me."
The Leader held out one hand and materialized a holographic image of a small, needle-tipped device. "I've already sent the necessary tool. A microscopic injector disguised as a subdermal implant — it is to be latched onto his skin by you and It will transmit data directly to me. Soon, I'll have the genetic profile I need."
Kraven scoffed and sarcastically said, "Oh, is that all?"
"Yes. That is all," the Leader replied in a flat, almost bored tone.
Kraven gave a sharp exhale, his tone begrudging. "Fine. If the weapons you sent meet my standards, I'll consider your little side request."
"That is acceptable," the Leader said calmly. "Now then, I'll leave you to your... hunting." With that, he withdrew from Kraven's mind, the telepathic connection severing like a snipped wire.
The Leader remained suspended in his hovering chair for a moment, fingers tapping the armrest thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention to a large containment pod in the room.
"Ms. Ross," he said, raising a hand toward the crimson figure inside the capsule, "I command you to revert. You have work to do."
Inside the machine, the red-hued, monstrous figure began to shift. The transformation was almost graceful—muscle retracting, bones reshaping. The green liquid that surrounded her drained with a mechanical hiss as the seals disengaged.
When the process was complete, Betty Ross stood silently. Her hair hung wet over her shoulders, her clothing clinging to her, and her eyes were clouded with a distant fog—emotionless, hollow.
"When the moment is right," the Leader said softly, walking toward her, "and I give the signal... you will bring Bruce to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Leader..." she answered in a low, toneless murmur.
"Good. Dry yourself. You are dismissed," he said, flicking his hand dismissively.
Betty bowed her head and began to walk away, her posture rigid, her expression lifeless. As she moved, a flicker of false clarity appeared in her gaze—just enough to pass as normal.
The Leader watched her go, a sneer slowly curling across his face. "How amusing," he said under his breath. "They truly believe they hold the reins. That they're in control. That they can see the whole board."
He reached into his pocket and drew out a small metallic object—a spider, gleaming and still in his palm.
"The greatest form of manipulation," he said, gazing into the spider's unblinking eyes, "is to let your enemies believe they are the masters of their fate. Show them what they want to see. Let them write the lie themselves. The art of deception... is most effective when painted by their own minds."
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+5 advance Chapters on: patreon.com/Shadow_D_Monarch3
A/N: I posted a Harry Potter fic for anyone interest in checking it out