Months before the chaos that would define the headlines—before the next invasion scare, before the headlines screamed about another Spider-Man failure—Jin Parker perched on a rain-slicked rooftop overlooking the grimy underbelly of Hell's Kitchen. The city lights flickered like dying stars below, casting long shadows that matched the exhaustion etched into his face.
He swung his legs over the edge, mask half-pulled down, breathing hard. "I'm so damn tired," he muttered to the night. "JJ's tearing me apart over yesterday's mess. Every swing feels like another nail in the coffin."
The "incident" still haunted him: a botched patrol where he'd tried to stop a gang hit, only for collateral damage to hit innocents. The Bugle painted him as reckless, public opinion soured further. Jin—Peter's alternate codename in this fractured life—felt the weight of it all.
A gloved hand landed on his shoulder. He tensed, then relaxed. No threat here.
Turning, he saw her: a woman in a sleek black bunny suit—high-cut leotard, fishnets, bowtie collar—topped with a porcelain skull mask that gleamed under the neon. One of **Delia's** operatives. The "Medicines," as the underworld called them: elegant servers by day, lethal enforcers by night. Inspired by the shadowy labs and mafia enforcers of the hell kitchen had seeped into Earth's black markets, they blended charm with deadly precision.
"Ah... it's you guys," Jin said, voice flat. He peeled off his own mask without fear, revealing tired hazel eyes and tousled brown hair.
The woman—code name "Easter," perhaps, judging by the subtle syringe motifs on her gloves—handed him a folded coat, a crisp white shirt, polished boots. No words needed; this was routine now.
"Thanks, I guess," he murmured, shrugging into the clothes. The fabric felt foreign—too clean for his usual street-worn suit.
"Tonight's the confirmation dinner," she said calmly. "The entire underworld will know about your relationship with Lady Delia. No more shadows."
Jin finished dressing. The coat hugged his frame—1.74 meters of lean muscle, scarred from years of webs and beatings. He looked almost respectable, almost like the man he might have been without the bite.
"Lady Delia insists on your presence, sir," the operative added, gesturing toward the rooftops.
Jin sighed, hands in pockets, and followed. His face screamed exhaustion: dark circles, slumped shoulders, the look of a hero who'd lost too much.
...
The **Medicines Casino** loomed ahead, its massive white neon sign glowing: **MEDICINES**. Elegant, tempting, dangerous. A neutral ground in the Marvel underworld—much like how the Kingpin once ruled territories where heroes and villains alike could parley without bloodshed. Here, no fights, no arrests. Only business.
"Your lady awaits in the private suite, Mr. Parker," the operative said at the entrance, peeling away.
Jin exhaled, stepping into the private elevator. Another Medicine joined him—same outfit, same skull mask—pressing the top-floor button without a word.
The doors opened to opulence: black marble floors, velvet drapes, a king-size bed dominating one corner like a throne. On the vanity sat two framed photos.
One captured a simpler time: Jin and Delia in a photo booth downtown. He wore his ratty hoodie, showing her the real city—the soup kitchens, the alley markets. Delia looked radiant, her naturally white hair (a result of extreme biotech mods she'd undergone after her near-death) framing a face half-hidden by a veil and mask. Casual clothes, no extravagance, but her presence commanded attention.
The other photo was the inverse: Jin in tailored luxury he'd never afford alone, Delia in a gown that dripped wealth and power, her cybernetic limbs gleaming subtly under silk—prosthetics from Chitauri tech salvaged after Loki's invasion.
A voice purred behind him. "Good to see you here, darling."
Strong arms lifted him effortlessly. Delia—taller, broader, her mechanical limbs granting inhuman strength—cradled him like he weighed nothing.
Jin smiled faintly as she kissed his cheek. He hugged back, sinking into the moment. "Hey, love."
"Rough day?" she asked, carrying him to the bed. She lay down, pulling him atop her. The size difference was stark: her enhanced frame dwarfed his.
During the Chitauri invasion—Thanos' loaned army tearing through New York—Delia had been a small-time operator, no mods, no powers. A grenade shredded her. Critical condition. Then a young Jin, swinging through the rubble, found her. Carried her to safety. Patched what he could.
She'd sworn a life-debt. Six years later, it was paid—in full. But the debt had evolved into something deeper.
"You're the only one who connects the dots," Jin murmured, inhaling her natural scent beneath the faint metallic tang of her augments. "Voice matches, patrol routes... you see it all."
"Not everyone needs to be a detective," Delia replied, tucking him against her side and draping her coat over him like a blanket. "You just have to know the world the right way."
She held him close. "Tonight, the underworld learns we're official. No more hiding. You're not just Spider-Man here. You're mine."
In that room, they weren't the crime queen rivaling the Kingpin's legacy or the hated vigilante. Just two broken people finding solace.
...
Cut to the present day in the Marvel Universe.
The Medicines Casino stood proud, untouched by the endless hero-villain wars. Neutral ground: Medicines weren't mere eye candy. Trained in combat, espionage, cyber-augments echoing of Labs horrors, they treated heroes and villains alike as clients. No judgment.
A banner hung between the grand staircases: two masks fused in one design—the Spider-Man's iconic eyes beside Delia's veiled skull motif. A symbol of unity in division.
Aunt May arrived at the entrance, weary but composed. Medicines swarmed with gentle care—escorting her, offering tea.
"Thank you, girls," May said kindly.
They guided her to the private elevator. Then Wade Wilson—Deadpool—sauntered up, katanas sheathed, chimichanga in hand.
"Grandma Spider!" he greeted with mock salute.
May chuckled. "Behave, Wade."
He'd been hired as her bodyguard—Jin insisted. But at the elevator, Wade was barred.
No complaints. Jin's rule: any trouble in Delia's casino ends the contract. Permanently.
Inside the suite, preparations buzzed. Emily—the lead Medicine, dressed in sharp business attire over her leotard—approached May.
"Mrs. Parker, dinner in five."
May gazed at a photo on the wall: Jin, Delia, and herself on Christmas Eve. Delia effortlessly held both in her arms, mechanical strength gentle.
"Ben..." May whispered to the ceiling, voice soft. "What do you think of our boy's new lady? Who knew Jin liked older women? She said it herself once: 'The more wrinkles the fruit has, the sweeter the juice—but she prefers something a little more bitter.' Haha. I thought it was wrong at first. But she's always been there for him. Pulled him from the brink more times than I can count. I hope you're smiling down, honey."
The photo captured a rare peace: Delia protective, Jin relaxed, May beaming.
Downstairs, the underworld gathered. Whispers of alliances, rivalries. Delia had built an empire rivaling Fisk's—neutral, ruthless, loyal.
Jin's exes lingered in the background like ghosts.
Mary Jane: married to Paul in a "perfect" life that felt hollow, tabloids painting it as escape from Peter's chaos.
Felicia Hardy—Black Cat: hunted by Medicines. She'd tried stealing Jin's comatose body from the casino vault—hired by SHIELD, Hydra, scattered villains desperate for leverage. Delia didn't forgive theft.
Captain Marvel: off-world, locked in brutal combat with Sentry in a distant solar system, too burdened to care about Earth drama.
Kitty Pryde: eaten by guilt, classic but real. She'd walked away when Peter needed her most.
But here, in Medicines, none of that mattered. Jin and Delia had carved a space amid the ruins—a debt repaid, a love forged in fire and circuits.
As the dinner bell rang, the casino lights dimmed. Two masks, one banner. Hero and queen. Broken, but together.
In a world of endless fights, this was their truce.
---
Who do you want to be the romantic partner in this world? Or should I bring back Delia?