Felix's mornings were quite interesting. When he woke up, Herbie fed him updates and information. It was almost like he was reborn a robot. He spent a good ten minutes scrolling through information until he got up, took a shower, brushed his teeth, and ordered hotel breakfast.
On this particular morning, he was accompanied by Shuri. Sort-of. She was asleep since, ya know, she was just a normal person and he was literally Spider-Man. It took her a good twelve hours before she woke up.
The hotel itself was technically owned by her family. Apparently, a fraction of real estate was owned by the Wakandan Royal Family. Even this nice king-sized bed was owned by Shuri's family.
Kinda weird to think about. So much influence and yet she was in bed with Felix of all people.
Shuri lay on her back, arms folded behind her head, eyes on the ceiling like she was puzzling out an equation. "Sheeesh!" Only two minutes had passed since she opened her eyes. "Please remind me, is this the norm in America?"
Felix smiled without looking over. "I didn't say that."
She smirked. "Because if this is standard issue in the States, then you all are hiding a lot more than national secrets."
"We do our best."
"Well, it was the best night of my life." That's when her smile faded slightly. Shuri exhaled. "And someday, it'll just be a memory. A really, really good one."
Felix turned toward her. "Why does it have to be just a memory?"
Shuri looked at him. "You know why."
"Then change it," he said. "Come to America with me."
"Ha, you know I can't do that."
"You say that today but you might change your mind tomorrow."
"It's not my mind that needs to be changed, it is my brother's."
"So what? The same applies to him. If not today or tomorrow, then next week. Or next month or next year. I don't care when. Just know there's a space for you. Always." Felix sat up straight, the blanket slipping down. "Look, I know someone. Emma Frost—"
"Oh, the mind reader?"
Felix stiffened. "What?"
Shuri didn't stop looking oh-so casually at the ceiling despite the ludicrous nature of her statement. "Just my guess. I once got this weird sense of…something coming from her. My brother too. It's like everything goes her way. So, we got her DNA when she was sleeping and discovered that there's something up with her. I don't know if it's mind reading, but she's a mutant of some kind."
Note to self: never underestimate a genius with an IQ over 200.
"Really? When was this?"
"Couple years back."
'So before we met.'
"Don't worry, she's trustworthy," Felix said. "She can convince your brother."
"With her mind powers?"
"....just trust me."
"Fine, fine." At long last, Shuri looked over at him and batted her eyelashes. "So. What else do you want to do on this lovely afternoon?"
Felix would have flirted back, if not for a knock on his hotel door. Three loud, distinct knocks from an attendant. Felix wasn't surprised at all. Herbie had already warned him and more importantly informed him that this was a member of the Dora Milaje.
Knock, knock.
"Coming!" Felix announced. He gestured at Shuri to hide under the sheets. Chuckling, she did so and Felix ran over to the door.
If Herbie was right and he usually was, this wasn't what it seemed. This morning, he intercepted a certain message between King T'Challa and his royal guards.
"Hello," the attendant, who was secretly a Dora Milaje member, greeted. "Are you Felix Faeth?"
Felix positioned himself in a way so that he was covering the bed. "Yes, what is it?"
"The king summons you."
"The king? King T'Challa? Wait, do you mean me or…?"
Shuri. That was the implication. The attendant skirted over said implication. "He will meet you at the Royal Hot Spring in two hours. Please be prepared. That is all."
The fake attendant bowed and Felix was allowed to close the door. Almost immediately, Shuri groaned. "Ugh, I heard mention of my brother. What does he want?" She slowly stretched and got up from the bed. "Mm, I'm so tired."
"No, he's actually here for me."
Shuri stopped. The sheets she had been carrying with her fell. "Eh? What?"
"The king summoned me, not you?"
"S-seriously? To the Royal Hot Spring? Are you kidding me?"
"Does he not do that often?"
"Only when it's for serious matters, like others kings and shit." Shuri cocked her head. "Either he's gonna crush your balls for fucking me or…it's something to do with your business."
In all likelihood, it was neither. An order was an order, however.
"I'll be back."
Shuri was naked. Putting her arms behind her, she swayed over to him. "Leaving so soon? I'm jealous."
"Don't be. Once we're back, we can talk more."
"Talk or…" Shuri traced a finger down his chest. "Something else?"
"Talk," Felix confirmed with a small smile. "You're a princess, have some dignity."
Shuri stuck her tongue out, giggling.
***
Two hours later, Felix got out of the limo and onto the mountain path to the Royal Hot Spring. The mountains were quiet as the sun peeked over the ridges. In the distance, he could see smoke curled up from the spring in thick, lazy ribbons.
Felix stepped into the changing area. He stripped down, took off his watch, folded his clothes neatly on the bench, and walked out into the rising mist.
He squinted.
'What the hell happened to the king?'
T'Challa stood waist-deep in the water, steam parting around him like it was afraid. His usual ceremonial robes had always concealed his build, but now—no robes, no suits—there was no mistaking it.
The man was jacked. Not just strong. Not just "has-a-trainer" fit. Every inch of him had exploded in size—shoulders broad, arms thick, chest massive, and everything in between. T'Challa turned, regal and calm, as if unaware of the sheer intimidation his physique carried to an ordinary man.
"Felix Faeth," the king greeted said.
Felix bowed first before even stepping inside. This was the king after all. "Your Majesty." A biiit awkward since his dick was out. Where was the dignity in this?
"I asked you here for a matter beyond titles," T'Challa said, his voice even, water glistening across his obsidian skin. "A matter of science."
'I agree. Herbie—deploy the spider-bite.'
Remember that watch he put away? Over the past year, Felix had been experimenting with various spider-bot types. Including a mosquito-like Spider-Bot capable of drawing up blood. The watch spat out the Mosquito-Bot and discreetly buzzed over.
T'Challa didn't notice the mosquito until it was too late. "Hng." He slapped his bicep where he was bit. He missed.
Felix blinked, pretending to be surprised. "You alright?"
"A mosquito. I'm surprised to see them this far up. Regardless, come join me."
He did. And at the same time...
'BLOOD SAMPLE CONFIRMED. ANALYSIS BEGINNING…'
Given the tiny dosage, this was going to take some minutes. Time to see what the king wanted.
"You mentioned science, Your Highness. What's up, if you don't me asking."
"Shuri has spoken the world of you. Norman Osborn and his compatriots speak even higher. They say there is none walking on this Earth with as much understanding of the human body as you."
"I would say so, yes."
At this point, it was about being honest. It wasn't a brag, it was the truth.
"You came up with a cure to negative types of radiation. This has helped in experiments all over the world. This has helped people who deal with nuclear waste."
"In the history of science, tragedy often begets innovation," Felix said.
"I understand. Allow me to tell you a tale of another tragedy. Not of human life but of the gods." T'Challa walked out of the water and went to a black table that Felix wasn't sure had been there in his last visit. On the table was small black tray.
T'Challa picked up the tray and walked back to the water, half submerged. The tray floated on the water. On it sat a single fruit—dark purple with a faint, iridescent glow. Instantly, Felix was reminded of the gems on Ororo's island.
"The tale of humans destroying what the gods gave us. This, my friend, is the Wakandan Royal Family's Heart-shaped Herb. This fruit is what every king must consume in order to become the Black Panther."
"The Black Panther…? Oh, I think I've heard of that myth. It's how your lineage became kings. You were superheroes of some kind."
"We were avatars of Bast," T'Challa corrected. "We fought on Bast's behalf. Bast spoke through us. That was until the day the garden was burned down and the fruits were stolen."
By the Chameleon.
"I believe you helped catch the woman responsible for it."
Be humble about it. "You mean the Chameleon."
"She lived a long life and caused even longer hardships. Without this fruit, neither my father or I could become who we were meant to be." T'Challa's downcast look was full of sorrow. "And when the garden was burned and the fruits were stolen, a handful went into the hands of criminal syndicates. Two were found in the inventory of a criminal auction house in New York. The Scorpion, if I recall. His fruits are now in the hands of your government."
Ah. Well, he was, uh, partially responsible for that.
"The other half… sold to minor superpowers throughout the continent. Of those, we've recovered only three."
T'Challa looked down at the fruit with solemn reverence.
"I consumed one," T'Challa declared. "Only recently."
'BLOOD ANALYSIS OF KING T'CHALLA ANALYSIS COMPLETE.'
'Verdict?"
'KING T'CHALLA HAS BECOME A SUPER SOLDIER. THE TRANSFORMATION LIKELY OCCURRED TWO WEEKS AGO.'
'So pretty recently, huh? Looks like I'm not the only one who's been reborn.'
"The second fruit was destroyed," T'Challa continued. "An attempted artificial cultivation failed. It was my fault, I was too aggressive. This…" he lifted the tray slightly, "is the third and final fruit."
Felix met his gaze, cautious. "And you want to try again."
"I want you to help me do it right," T'Challa said. "Project Rebirth II. You've been working on it under Osborn's name. You've made progress where others failed. And unlike Osborn, you don't chase war contracts."
As expected of a king, his information was accurate. Felix genuinely thought about, hands submerged in the warm water.
"Helping a nation like Wakanda grow its own super-serum," he said slowly, "might be seen as working against American interests."
"It will not be seen as such if you are not seen at all."
"Haa…" Felix rubbed the back of his head. "You're lucky you're Shuri's friend." And that Bast asked him that favour. "Or else I would have rejected you, king or not."
T'Challa smiled. "I am a lucky brother."
"May I…?" Felix held his hands out. King T'Challa did not seem reluctant to place the fruit in his palms. Whatever Shuri told him about Felix, it made him into a mighty trustworthy man.
From within his cornea, Herbie's interface activated silently. A blue shimmer appeared only in Felix's vision, overlaying data across the fruit: mineral density, vibrational resonance, genetic markers, biosynthetic potential.
T'Challa didn't notice. Duh, no amount of Super Soldiering could help someone see from another person's cornea.
Felix turned the Heart-shaped Herb gently in his hands. It was a shocking shade of purple and no bigger than a baseball. Slightly cracked, likely from the minor experiments T'Challa conducted.
'Stabilization will require bio-isolation. Natural replication isn't viable—but… synthetic grafting?'
Herbie chimed in: 'IF CULTIVATED IN VIBRANIUM-ENRICHED SOIL WITH ISOLATED HORMONAL INDUCTION, PROBABILITY OF GROWTH FROM EXTRACTED TISSUE INCREASES BY 42%.'
Felix nodded to himself. "You'll need a soil compound that mimics the original garden's frequency signature. Vibranium-adjacent, but with living bacteria, not sterile nanotech. You've been using tech to grow it. That's the problem."
T'Challa tilted his head. "You're saying the solution is less technology?"
"More balance," Felix said, handing the fruit back. "Let the plant remember it's alive."
"But…it is not the 1950s. That technology too outdated, we don't even have it in our inventory."
"Then get it anyway. The arrogance of man is thinking we've gone past the need of nature. We need the air and we need the soil and that will likely remain for as long as our species exists."
The king accepted it with both hands. A pause passed between them.
"You have my thanks, Felix Faeth."
"Anytime, your Majesty. Although, if you don't mind me asking, you mentioned the Chameleon sold it to people in Africa and to criminal syndicates. That's a bit strange considering, well, aside from Spider-Man there haven't been many Super Soldier types."
T'Challa smiled faintly. "I told you, did I not? The fruit has power but it is a gift from the gods. Gifts can be revoked."
In other words…
"You're telling me even if someone eats it, unless Bast deems you worthy, the fruit won't give you powers?"
"Indeed."
"So what's the criteria for it?"
"A ritual. Physical conditioning. We do not live in a world where a simple fruit turns you into a demigod. I am sure you know more than me that it can never be that simple."
"So…it's possible that whoever the Chameleon sold the fruits to is still hoarding it?"
"I investigated for decades," T'Challa said, "and I discovered who the Chameleon relied upon for her pay. They were the most powerful criminal lords of their time, the men who secretly ruled Italy—the Mafia."
The Mafia in Italy…?
Ha.
Hahahaha.
What a funny coincidence. Felix bowed to the king, smiling, and went back to the change room.
'Looks like I'll be getting more than your head, Hammerhead.'
This past year, he hadn't been twiddling his thumbs in regards to Hammerhead and Cindy Moon. No, he had been planning and biding his time. Cindy Moon was a billionaire. Matt Murdock ruled the Hand and the Maggia and organizations like the Hand and the Maggia did not solely operate in New York. Their influence were documented all over the globe.
Earth 65 was not an easy place to fix. It wasn't all about power, it required intelligence, information, and cunning strategy.
To be able to dismantle as much crime as possible, Spider-Man had to start expanding his wings beyond that of New York.
He had to became the Spider-Man of Earth 65.
***
The private airstrip at Golden Rock was located in the rolling granite hills west of Birnin Zana. It wasn't on maps and certainly wasn't marked with any signage. It was used for royal escorts, high-value foreign diplomats, and off-grid departures—just the way Wakanda liked it.
The runway itself was etched directly into the rocky terrain, smoothed by nanite treatment and kept spotless by invisible maintenance drones. No towers, no terminals—just a gleaming strip surrounded by a ring of trees and hills.
Shuri stood at the edge of the strip, arms crossed, face lit by the soft Wakandan sun. Her dark royal jacket fluttered in the breeze, the beadwork on her sleeves catching the light in flickers of purple and gold.
Felix was just a few feet away, his black coat slung over his shoulder, one boot resting on the metal ramp that led to the sleek private jet behind him.
Felix looked at Shuri, his hand tightening slightly around the metal rail.
"You sure?" Felix asked. "You could come with me."
Shuri gave him a small, bittersweet smile. "I can't just hitchhike out of Wakanda like it's a college trip. My brother and I are in a good place now. If I am going to leave, I want to explain it. Properly."
There was a pause. She leaned in, placed a soft kiss on his cheek—gentle, not final, but not promising either.
"Don't fly too fast," she said.
"No promises," he replied.
Shuri pulled back and smiled, hands on her hips. A palace car waited across the tarmac. She stayed, however. She didn't want to leave until he did.
And he did have to leave. He climbed up the stairs, waved at her one last time, and the jet doors closed.
The Daedalus was parked like a sleek, black predator at rest—no visible engines, no markings, no seams. A modified Gulfstream G800, though modified didn't do it justice. It had been gutted and rebuilt from the frame out by Felix himself, using Stark-grade adaptive tech, Wakandan alloys he'd "borrowed" with permission, and tech so bleeding edge that most governments couldn't even guess it existed.
Its wings were razor-thin and fitted with optical cloaking arrays. Its skin was embedded with reactive camouflage plates that shimmered subtly when engaged. Flight was nearly silent. The engines were hybrid—vibranium-cooled turbines supported by quantum-level capacitors, which Herbie managed effortlessly. It ran fully on autopilot, requiring no cockpit interaction at all.
Inside, the jet was less "luxury" and more "future yacht in the sky." Black and dark steel interiors, minimalist leather seating, ambient lighting that adjusted to mood and time zone, and AI interfaces built directly into the walls. Felix and his minions of robotic Herbies had soundproofed everything. The floor even had a slight, magnetic-levitation softness underfoot, like walking on calm water.
From the small galley at the rear, came her.
Sue Storm.
She wore a simple dark gray flight attendant's dress—not because she needed to, but because she insisted on doing something for him. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and her expression lit up as soon as she saw him.
"Mr. Faeth!" Sue greeted, bright and blue-eyed. "You're early!"
"Pilot was impatient," Felix said, hanging his coat near the door.
Sue laughed. "You're so funny, Mr. Faeth! There is no pilot!"
She looped her arm around his and guided him to his seat. A pretty white lounge with a table and television right across. It was a dream come true for college Felix. He couldn't help but smile when his butt hit the lounge and he relaxed. His whole life, he thought he would be ordinary. To own a jet and chill in it like a rich person in a movie always brought a smile to his face.
Sue was already back with a tray; a glass of water, chilled exactly to his preferred temperature. "I prepped breakfast. your usual eggs, and a protein bar… unless you're fasting today?"
Felix took the glass. "Haha, no. Thanks, Sue."
Sue beamed, like she'd just been knighted.
He watched her for a second longer than necessary. Ever since he'd rescued her from that broken bacta tank, Sue had been obsessively loyal to a fault. In her blank-slate mind, Felix was the man who had saved her from death.
She was reborn.
Felix…didn't know how to feel about it.
She followed his instructions with military precision, read every book he left out, asked questions with wide, eager eyes. She wasn't himself yet—didn't know her own past—but she knew him. And that was enough for now.
Sue stepped back, watching him sip the water.
"Anything else I can do for you?"
He looked out the window as the engines spooled up, the earth beneath them shimmering slightly with heat.
"Our next flight is to Italy, right?"
"Right so!"
"Then let's kick back and relax."
At the corner of his eye was the closet where he kept one of his many Spider-Man suits. His fingers twitched. He couldn't wait to get back into action.