Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

The night was long, but dawn would always break.

May didn't remember when she had fallen asleep.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn't sure if what happened last night was real or just a dream. But seeing the blanket draped over her and the familiar surroundings, she felt an unexpected sense of reassurance.

It was as if a bit of life had returned to this home.

"Sorry, my breakfast might not be very good."

Bruce set down a plate in front of her. While it wasn't exactly inedible, it certainly didn't look appetizing.

May didn't mind. Instead, she felt a bit exasperated with this kid.

After placing the breakfast beside her, Bruce walked a short distance away and resumed his work.

There hadn't been enough time yesterday for him to finish the suit he needed.

"Just call me if you need anything," May said as she watched him leave. Then, she picked up the sandwich Bruce had made and took a bite.

The taste made her frown slightly.

Even as he focused on his suit, Bruce was still paying attention to her.

When he noticed her reaction, he instinctively moved to take the breakfast away.

But May continued eating the sandwich. This time, she didn't frown—she just smiled.

"In terms of cooking, you're about as bad as my nephew."

Though May wasn't exactly impressed with Bruce's culinary skills, she still finished the breakfast he made.

Bruce could only shift his attention back to his suit.

It was noticeably different from the one he used before.

What he needed now was something more advanced—something more like armor.

Not a full Iron Man-style suit, but rather something with enhanced protection.

A powered exoskeleton seemed like the best fit for his current needs.

"Looks like what you really need is some rest."

May had quietly approached him, watching as he worked on something so advanced that even Peter's fabricator would take time to produce. She chuckled and placed a blanket in his hands.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but May simply patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've got this."

Looking into her eyes, Bruce could only nod.

Just as he was about to get some sleep, the computer—where he had been monitoring the current state of New York—suddenly changed its display.

It was an image of the burnt remains of Kane Manor.

Bruce stepped forward and turned up the volume.

Here's the translated version while preserving the original meaning and flow:

"In the ruins, the NYPD has discovered over a dozen bodies, along with numerous severed limbs. We have reason to believe that Wick John Kane has perished in the attack," the news anchor reported in a professional and composed tone.

"So far, no organization has claimed responsibility for the attack."

Aunt May covered her mouth, now fully understanding why Bruce had arrived in such a battered state.

The fact that he even managed to survive was nothing short of miraculous.

Bruce, however, remained indifferent as he watched the broadcast. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

At this moment, he was nothing more than a ghost lingering in this world.

What he needed now was time—and the right moment to act.

How could someone already declared dead continue to be Batman?

But a ghost lurking in the darkness, a specter clawing its way out of hell—that was the very definition of Batman.

The death of a wealthy businessman barely caused a ripple in New York.

People quickly forgot about the once-prominent Wick John Kane and were more concerned about whether the terrorist organization responsible for the attack would continue their plans and target the city again.

Yet, some individuals who watched the news couldn't hide their satisfaction.

In the wake of Viper's disappearance, the current leader of Hydra, known as the Count, was more than pleased with the outcome of this operation.

They had successfully demonstrated Hydra's stance to the world.

Hydra's assets were not to be taken lightly.

Anyone who dared to cross Hydra would face only one fate—total annihilation.

"Sir, Lady Viper has escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

A Hydra soldier approached the Count and delivered the report in a low voice.

The Count, who had been reveling in the success of the mission, suddenly found himself unable to sit still.

"How did she escape?!" His voice was filled with anger. "Why is S.H.I.E.L.D. so incompetent? They can't even keep one prisoner locked up?"

His frustration and fear were now clearly visible.

As Hydra's leader, he knew all too well what Viper represented in the eyes of their soldiers.

If she were to reappear at a Hydra base, every single operative would become her devoted follower in an instant.

The Hydra soldier hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but the Count suddenly turned and glared at him.

"Then send a message to the Ultimate Alliance—tell S.H.I.E.L.D. that under no circumstances can she be allowed to return."

He crushed his cigar against the ashtray, his expression dark as he stared at the television screen.

The thrill of eliminating that man had already faded.

Viper was now his greatest threat.

"I told you before," a voice echoed from the shadows.

A man clad in a priest's robe emerged, smiling.

"Hydra will never truly be yours. The moment Viper returns, she will take everything back."

The Count sneered. "Oh? And what, you think you have a better idea?"

"I wouldn't say 'better,'" the man replied with a grin. "But I will say this—if you work with me now, it's not too late."

As his words fell, beams of artificial light shone through the window—robotic eyes staring into the room.

"My terms remain the same," the man continued. "You can have all of America. All I want is for mutants to be completely wiped out."

He extended his hand toward the Count. "I can even take care of Viper for you. The Ultimate Alliance and S.H.I.E.L.D. certainly won't help you deal with her."

This time, the Count did not refuse.

He extended his hand as well.

"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Stryker."

As their hands clasped, an unseen vortex began swallowing everything around them.

The course of events was now spiraling in a direction that no one had anticipated.

(End of Chapter)

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