Chapter 24: Hell’s Kitchen

Scene One: Night Patrol

The city streets glowed under flickering neon signs and pale streetlights, the hum of a restless metropolis filling the air. Marshall perched on a rooftop, the Omnitrix glowing faintly on his wrist. The night was quiet—too quiet for his liking.

"Alright," Marshall muttered, turning the Omnitrix dial. The familiar silhouettes of alien forms flickered through the green light until he landed on one. "Time to see what Echo Echo can really do."

Slamming down the dial, a bright green flash enveloped him. When it faded, he was no longer human but Echo Echo, his small, white robotic-like body emitting a faint hum of energy. His single, circular blue eye glowed softly, and his high-pitched, slightly distorted voice echoed as he spoke.

"Let's see what's cooking tonight."

Marshall leapt from the rooftop, landing on the pavement below with a surprising lightness for his metallic frame. His auditory sensors picked up every sound within a two-block radius—the creak of a fire escape, the hiss of a distant bus's brakes, a muffled argument behind a closed door. Hell's Kitchen always had stories to tell.

"Focus," Marshall muttered to himself, amplifying his auditory receptors. It didn't take long before he caught something—a strange, rhythmic beeping followed by hurried footsteps.

"Gotcha."

Scene Two: The Setup

Marshall followed the sound to a dimly lit alley, where two men in dark clothing were unloading small crates from a van. The rhythmic beeping grew louder as Marshall crept closer, his enhanced vision zooming in on the crates.

"Bombs," Marshall whispered. The crates were lined with wires and flashing lights—definitely not party favors.

"Move faster," one of the men growled. "Fisk wants this shipment out by midnight."

Marshall's robotic body stiffened. Wilson Fisk again. The Kingpin's reach was growing, and Marshall wasn't about to let him expand it any further.

He crouched low, activating his duplication ability. Two glowing duplicates of Echo Echo split from his form, their movements synchronized with his own.

"Alright, boys," Marshall said, his voice amplified and distorted. "Time to shut this operation down."

The men spun around, their eyes widening at the sight of three Echo Echos standing in the shadows.

"What the hell is that?!" one of them shouted, fumbling for his gun.

"Bad news for you," one of the duplicates quipped.

Before the men could react, Marshall and his duplicates sprang into action. One of the clones let out a powerful sonic blast, the soundwaves disorienting the men and shaking the crates. Another clone dashed forward, kicking over one of the boxes to reveal its contents—several small but deadly explosives.

"You really shouldn't play with dangerous toys," Marshall said, his voice amplified to a deafening pitch. The men covered their ears, groaning in pain.

The noise drew the attention of more goons from inside the van. Four armed men rushed out, shouting orders and aiming their weapons.

"Oh, good," one of the duplicates said, clapping his hands. "More company."

Scene Three: The Fight

The goons opened fire, their bullets ricocheting off the metallic bodies of the Echo Echo duplicates. Marshall grinned, splitting into two more clones to outnumber the men.

One Echo Echo leapt onto the roof of the van, letting out another deafening sonic blast that shattered the windshield and blew the driver's door off its hinges. Another clone charged at the men, using its compact size and agility to weave between them, disarming two before they could even react.

"Stop them!" one of the goons yelled, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Marshall himself moved toward the crate of bombs, his sharp mind racing. "If I don't neutralize these, this whole block's going up in flames."

Using his enhanced dexterity, he carefully pulled apart the wires of one bomb, his sensors analyzing the circuitry. "Red to blue, green to yellow… wait, no. Yellow to—

A goon lunged at him, but one of the duplicates intercepted, tackling the man to the ground.

"Hands off the genius, pal," the duplicate snapped.

Marshall refocused, his hands moving with precision. "Got it!" he exclaimed as the bomb powered down, the beeping fading into silence.

One by one, the remaining bombs were disarmed with the help of his clones, who kept the goons at bay with sonic blasts and agile strikes. The last man standing tried to make a run for it, but Marshall sent a duplicate ahead to block his path.

"You're not going anywhere," the clone said, crossing its arms.

The man froze, raising his hands in surrender.

Scene Four: Cleanup

With the goons subdued and the bombs disarmed, Marshall reabsorbed his duplicates, returning to his singular form. He took a moment to catch his breath, his metallic chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"You guys really need better hobbies," he muttered, kicking one of the crates. "Fisk is gonna be pretty pissed when he hears about this."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air. Marshall's sensors picked up the distinct chatter of police radios.

"Time to go," he said to himself, leaping onto a nearby fire escape. He scaled the building in seconds, disappearing onto the rooftop just as the cops arrived to secure the scene.

From his vantage point, Marshall watched as the officers arrested the remaining goons and secured the explosives. A small smile crept across his face. Another win for the good guys.

As he turned to leave, his communicator crackled to life. It was Peter's voice.

"Marshall, you okay? I heard about something going down in Hell's Kitchen."

"Just another night on the job," Marshall replied. "Fisk's guys were moving bombs. I shut it down."

Peter sighed. "You know, one of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed doing this.

"Not tonight," Marshall said, smirking. "But thanks for worrying."

Part Two: Flash's Discovery (Peter's POV)

Scene One: An Ordinary Day in the Lab

The Nexus Inc. lab was bustling with the hum of innovation. Peter Parker was in his element, walking Gwen Stacy and Ned Leeds through some of their latest breakthroughs. Various gadgets were scattered across the workbenches, each representing months of work and collaboration between him, Marshall, and Billy.

"And this," Peter said, holding up a small cylindrical device, "is our adaptive energy source prototype. This baby could power a small apartment for weeks, completely renewable."

"Without blowing up this time?" Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey," Peter said defensively, "that was one time, and the explosion was… controlled."

"Controlled?" Ned laughed nervously. "I'm still pretty sure we lost a door."

Peter smirked. "That's why it's called testing, Ned."

Gwen leaned in to examine the device. "I'll admit, it's impressive. But when do we see something fun? All this science stuff is cool, but where's the wow factor?"

Peter opened his mouth to respond when the lab door slammed open, and Flash Thompson waltzed in like he owned the place.

"What's up, nerds?" Flash said, looking around with exaggerated disinterest. "This the secret hideout where you play science wizards?"

Peter groaned, already regretting letting Flash know about the lab during one of Billy's parties. "Flash, we're working. You can't just barge in here."

"Relax, Parker," Flash said, brushing him off. "I'm just here to see what the brain trust is cooking up. Any rocket boots? Laser swords?"

"No," Gwen said sharply, crossing her arms. "And you're not supposed to be here."

Ignoring her, Flash wandered further into the lab, picking up random gadgets and inspecting them. "Come on, Stacy. Don't be like that. Let me see the cool stuff. You guys hiding a shrink ray or something?"

"Flash," Peter said, trying to keep his cool, "if you're not here to help, you should leave. This is serious work."

Flash snorted. "Serious work? Yeah, sure, Parker. Bet you're building the next toaster."

Peter exchanged a glance with Gwen, who rolled her eyes. Ned tried to busy himself with some wires, clearly uncomfortable with Flash's presence.

Scene Two: The Hidden Panel

As Flash wandered around, his attention was caught by something unusual on the wall—a faint seam that didn't match the rest of the paneling.

"What's this?" he asked, running his fingers along the edge.

Peter frowned, following his gaze. "What are you talking about? There's nothing there."

"Oh, really?" Flash smirked. He pressed against the seam, and to everyone's shock, a hidden panel slid open with a soft hiss. Inside was a sleek metallic case, tucked away like a treasure chest.

"What the—?" Peter started, stepping forward.

Flash grabbed the case before Peter could stop him. "Looks like your golden boy Marshall's been keeping secrets."

"Flash, put that back," Peter said, his voice firm. "Whatever that is, Marshall clearly hid it for a reason."

Flash ignored him, flipping the latches on the case. The lid popped open to reveal two vials of glowing liquid—one blue and one green.

"Well, well," Flash said, holding up the blue vial. The liquid shimmered under the lab's fluorescent lights. "What do we have here? Nerd juice?"

"Flash," Gwen said, her voice laced with warning, "don't mess with that. You don't know what it is."

Peter's heart raced. He had no idea what Marshall was working on, but his gut told him it wasn't something to mess around with. "Flash, I'm serious. Put it back. Now."

Flash grinned, uncapping the blue vial. "Relax, Parker. What's the worst that could happen? Maybe this is how you nerds get so smart. A little shot of genius in a bottle."

"It's not for you!" Peter shouted, lunging forward.

But Flash tipped the vial back and drank it in one gulp.

Scene Three: Transformation

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Flash stood there, wiping his mouth, looking smug. "See? No big deal. Maybe it's just a fancy energy drink."

Then his body spasmed.

Flash doubled over, clutching his stomach as a low hum filled the air. His veins began to glow faintly blue, spreading from his chest outward like crackling electricity. His muscles bulged, his frame growing larger and more defined.

"Uh, guys?" Ned said, backing away. "This… this looks bad."

Peter watched in horror as Flash straightened, his breathing heavy but steady. His skin had taken on a faint, unnatural sheen, and his eyes now glowed with a blue hue.

Flash flexed his hands, testing his newfound strength. A grin spread across his face. "This… this is incredible. I feel amazing!"

"Flash," Peter said, his voice trembling, "you have to calm down. Whatever that stuff is, it's messing with your body."

Flash laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. "Messing with me? Are you kidding? I feel so powerful for once, Parker, I feel like I can do anything.

He grabbed a nearby workbench and effortlessly lifted it over his head.

"Flash, put that down!" Gwen yelled.

"Make me," Flash said, hurling the bench across the room. It crashed against the wall, scattering tools and debris.

Scene Four: Containment

Peter stepped forward, his mind racing. "Flash, listen to me. You don't know what that stuff's doing to you. You need to stop before you hurt someone—or yourself."

Flash turned to Peter, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Hurt someone? No, Parker. I'm done being the joke. I'm a god now."

He charged at Peter, his movements fast but clumsy. Peter sidestepped just in time, grabbing a nearby stun device.

Gwen grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed it in Flash's face. "Back off, Thompson!"

Flash stumbled, coughing and wiping at his eyes. "What the hell, Stacy?"

Peter took the opportunity to activate the stun device, sending a jolt of electricity into Flash's chest. Flash convulsed, his glowing veins flickering before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Gwen knelt beside him, checking his pulse. "He's alive. But what the hell was in that vial?"

Peter looked at the green vial still in the case, his stomach sinking. "I don't know. Marshall never told me about this. But whatever it is, it's dangerous."

Ned stared at the hidden panel, his face pale. "What else do you think he's hiding?"

Peter didn't answer. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—and much more dangerous.