Chapter Text
02/09/2026, Ottawa — Earth 120703 8:00 am
The city falls down the building he was sitting on. Shane inhales sharply the cold air of Ontario in through the mask of his Spiderman costume while he takes in sights what’s below him at the moment. He sees a woman crossing the street, phone on the ear, who seems rushed by whatever she was hearing on the other side of the line, an old man was sitting on a bench while reading the newspaper of the day, then Shane’s eyes are drawn to a couple pushing strollers. The two women were walking side by side, one of them was holding a toddler who must be about three year-old by the hand as her partner were pushing the empty stroller alongside her family.
It could have been us… Shane thinks, if Ilya was…
His thoughts are interrupted by his phone ringing in the pocket of his hand-made suit. Shane look at the phone in his right hand and pick up the call in a sigh as he reads Harris’s contact name.
‟Hi, Harris.” Shane starts.
‟Hey, buddy…” the social media manager stutters slightly, ‟just wanted to tell you the guys are planning some hang out at the Monk’s after practice to commemorate Roz on the anniversary, I didn’t want you to feel cornered by their invite.”
‟That’s nice of them but I gotta work.”
There is a short pause on the receiving line before Harris resumes :
‟Right… your street job.”
Harris was the only one of Shane’s friends to know about his secret identity, he had clocked him even before Ilya, though in retrospect, Ilya had known for sure for only three hours prior before that night.
‟Anyways,” Harris says, ‟Don’t be too reckless while—”
‟— I found him, Harris.” Shane cuts him off.
‟Who?”
‟The fucker who killed Ilya.”
Shane had let him escape that night, way too preoccupied by Ilya hung up in the air, with Shane’s web sticking his hand to the edge of the clocktower as sole hindrance to a fall that would have been fatal, to make sure the man was really out. When Shane found himself cradling his husband’s corpse after the web got cut by the cogs of the clock and he didn’t manage to catch him before his head hit the ground. Shane couldn’t care less about what was happening in the moment except for Ilya’s lifeless body.
The mere memory of that night three years ago sends a chill down Shane’s spine.
‟Shane, be careful.” Harris answer, ‟Don’t get yourself in danger for some revenge bullshit.”
‟’Some revenge bullshit.’?” Shane repeats in shock, ‟Harris, he fucking killed my husband.”
And my baby, is left unsaid
‟I—I know Shane,” Harris stammers, ‟but think about your parents, think about Ilya, do you think he would want you to—”
‟—Don’t. Harris don’t you dare telling me what would Ilya want, he’s dead so it doesn’t matter.”
‟Just… don’t try and join them in the afterlife soon.”
Shane knows Harris is right, his parents have already lost their substitute son and their grandchild, he has his friends who all care and worry about him, and Ilya would certainly murder him a second time if he’d join him anytime soon. But Shane yearns for some justice for what happened to his husband, who was only 32 when he died, his kind and selfless and caring Ilya and the life they were about to build together as a family.
Fuck, they were three month away from having a family.
‟So… a drink at the Monk’s, huh?” Shane tries to derive the conversation. ‟Who’ll be there?”
‟Everyone,” he could hear Harris' disapproval at the sudden change of subject in his voice but Shane was glad he gave in still. ‟Hayes, Bood, Luca…”
‟Haasy is coming?” Shane asks surprised. It was rare for the young man to give in these type of hang out since he was given the ‘A’.
‟I told you, everyone!” The tone had shifted to a lighter one now and Shane was grateful for the distraction from his grief.
‟Even Troy?”
Harris’s laugh was the only answer. At eight month pregnant Troy barely gets out of the house lately.
‟At my greatest despair,” Harris says after a while, ‟he’s on the verge of popping up anytime now but he said he wanted to be there for his captain.”
It was nice to see how people still love and respect Ilya, he was not their captain anymore even before his death, he had hung up his skates for good when they found out about the baby, to Ilya, it was obvious he’ll never come back to hockey even after he gave birth. But still, Ilya Rozanov was their captain to the Centaurs, even though Bood has been wearing the ‘C’ for three years now.
‟Well,” Shane answers, ‟if a eight month pregnant man can show up, I guess I can post pone my hunt for revenge.”
‟Good, see you at the rink Shane.”
‟Yes.”
‟And be caref—”
Shane does not let Harris finish his sentence before he hangs up on him. He puts his phone back in his pocket, readjust his mask before jumping from the roof he was sitting on and starting swinging from a building to another.