Chapter Text
Shadows shrouded the figure of a fairly slim man in his late seventies. A tired face with bags under his eyes and a completely bald head spoke to the long years of life that man had lived through, who was now trapped in a dark box, sitting in a squeaky chair. Outside, the sun had run out of energy, and the moon had recharged its own. Caged like a wild animal alongside many others, the old man sat there, thinking about the future, whilst listening to some music on his headphones.
The song spoke about someone who found a way to swim in the smoke of a bridge he had somehow managed to burn earlier.
That odd scene flying through his ears reminded him of something he had read earlier that morning, when he had overheard two prison guards that were having a chat about the security flaws and the lack of personnel at the new prison where they were being held, built in the heart of New York City.
That building, which was quite small and could hold only about 40 people, had been in operation for a relatively short time, and had been housing various criminals for even less time. That was the topic of discussion between two prison guards whose job was to watch over that wing.
“I can sense you are worried. Don’t be. I've been told that this prison is just temporary. The higher-ups are planning to move them elsewhere soon. I'm sure they'll take all these crooks out to sea and throw them overboard for the sharks to devour.”
“I'm telling you, man, these guys should be lined up and executed. They may seem sane, but I'll bet you anything you want that these costumed clowns would drive anyone crazy or spread their craziness like a dangerous disease.”
“Perhaps Dr. Kafka refused to admit them to Ravencroft because she believed that none of them had any chance of being rehabilitated.”
“Now that you mentioned it, I've heard that that's exactly where they plan to lock all of these-“
The prison guards had stopped their chatter when they saw that the old man was watching them.
“Can I help you with something, gramps? Have you taken your medicine already?”
“Why can't a mere prisoner watch his executioners?” he whispered menacingly. “My eyes work just fine yet and there’s no rule that says I can’t use them”.
“If you're bored, why don't you read something? I'll pass you some books for you to kill time, if you ask nicely.”
He had kept silent, attributing little importance to the mockery. His eyes were fixed on those of the prison guard, expressionless. Unintimidated, the man sighed in annoyance and tossed him some small books to keep him occupied.
Realizing that it was better reading than doing nothing, he had caught them.
One of those books was about a simple man who had transformed into a huge insect and because of that, he found multiple hurdles in his life. He had already went through that story when he was younger, although he still found it fascinating. The second book was about yin and yang; a tale about symbols that represented two opposite forces that were found in all things in the universe yet they complemented each other. He had gone through that one, too, and it was one of his favorites. However, the one that definitely was novel to him was the last one, which had a bridge pictured on the cover.
The book told the story of a man who was deeply in love with a woman. The only thing that separated them was a rusty bridge that they were both afraid to cross. Beneath the bridge, brown, poisonous water infested with bloodthirsty, starving animals and otherworldly creatures was flowing, eager to devour their limbs should they dare to walk across it. They both craved the intimacy of the physical touch, but their fear of a horrible death prevented them from reaching each other. There was minimal distance between the bridge and the hungry creatures, so the only way to pass was to fly above it. Neither of them could bring themselves to blow up the bridge, as this would mean the end of their love. So they suffered in silence and pain, until they both died of old age. But not before wishing, on their deathbeds, to be reincarnated as butterflies, so that they would never again have to suffer the human boundaries of flesh.
Now that night had fallen, he reflected on the connection between the song he had been listening to and the bridge depicted in the book. A famous psychiatrist, or psychologist, coined a term for such an occurrence but couldn’t quite remember his name. Yet, he found what the book had told him interesting and quite ironic. “In the end both the man and the woman found death anyway. And all of that because of not being brave enough to cross a simple bridge”.
The ultimate doom of those people still wandered his thoughts. “They certainly weren't afraid of dying of old age. I respect that. Yet, I think the idea of living the next life as a butterfly is rather dumb. They would have been able to cross the bridge with their wings, but the lifespan of a butterfly is extremely short. How much time would they have to enjoy it? Quite dumb. Many birds live longer than that. I would have chosen one of them instead”.
That was the only time a book had caught his attention since he had fell in that hellish hole of a place. He had been dreaming of an opportunity to be free as a bird for quite some time since he had gotten there. He felt he had so many things he had to deal with in the outer world, that every second he had spent there was agony.
“This rotten place is making me older,” he thought.
He then closed his eyes and listened to his music again, once more forgetting about the outside world. He failed to notice that only one guard was keeping watch on that floor, barely conscious, and half-asleep. What the other men had said about the lack of personnel certainly wasn’t a lie.
“FREEDOM!”
A piercing scream of joy had broken the otherwise somber atmosphere. A jailbreak had occurred a few minutes earlier, and he wouldn’t have known about it if it hadn’t been for his cellmate, who had tapped him on the shoulder.
The elderly man felt the touch and immediately took off his headphones, from which some classical music was now blaring at full volume. He had been dreaming about a life that he used to have, that he had lost touch with the rest of the world around him.
“What’s going on?” the old man exclaimed, irritated by the touch, which had taken him by surprise.
The other person, who was a little overweight, had messy brown hair and a several-day-old, unkempt beard, stared at him in bewilderment.
“Boss, why are you listening to music at a time like this? Haven’t you seen what is going on right now? The main door has been torn apart. Everyone had already got out. This might be our last chance to escape from this place. We have to take advantage of it. We may not have much time before they wise up and send in more guys in blue. Are you coming?”
The stocky man was speaking rather anxiously while sweating profusely, but was still waiting for the old man’s response, who ignored the question and decided to strike with one of his own.
“How exactly did this happen? It is clear that you’ve been paying attention and I haven’t”.
“It was Gargan, the guy with the scorpion tattoo. The prison guard had gotten too close to a cell, and then he grabbed him by the neck and snapped it, snatching the bunch of keys he was carrying in his uniform. That other guy, Rodriquez, helped him reduce another guard who was hanging around there. They then rushed the store room where the police had been holding some of the suits they had confiscated when they locked us up.”
The old man rubbed his chin as if he were thinking.
“With barely any security guards every movement must have been a piece of cake for that loser. At long last, that pathetic excuse for a person managed to accomplish something important in his life”.
“Not only that”, continued his partner. “Once they got there, they killed another cop guarding the entrance door to the store room and were able to get ahold of their costumes. In fact, they came back and just unlocked all the cells so we can escape. I saw Schultz, too. He got away quickly, but not before telling me that he'd look for us once we were all outside. As I’m telling you this, time is already running out. We have to go now or there may be not another chance in the future”.
Deep in thought, but just for mere seconds, the old-timer snapped out of it quickly and looked at his former crewmate in the eye.
“You know, Mason, I have a suit too,” he replied rather condescendingly. “It’s not as flashy as the ones those morons have.”
“I know about it, boss. I haven’t forgotten, I have worked on it many times. I’ll take you to the storage room where it’s kept. All the guards have been taken out, though I heard some dude saying that they’re sending reinforcements, and they’re on their way here. This is our golden ticket. Let’s take it”.
The old man gazed at his partner with concern. He hadn’t forgotten that they were being held in the heart of a big city. They certainly couldn't let the opportunity that was right before their eyes slip through their fingers like sand. “Let’s not waste more time then. Lead the way. I’ll get my outfit and then we get the hell out of here”.
“Then follow me,” Mason suggested, pointing at a dark corner in the distance. “Once you have it we can get out of here safely, and we won’t even have to use the front door.”
A smile formed in the lips of the withered criminal. Finally, he was going to be an uncaged bird once again. The rage burning in his chest had been bottled up for so long and life had now put a beacon in his path to follow.
They packed the books he had been reading into a small backpack, and left the cell.
“Are you still obsessed with that project you once told me about, boss?” asked Mason in an agitated voice, as they were sprinting through the corridors in search of their ticket home.
“I am. And it will become a reality soon. You’ll see.”
After running nonstop for a few minutes, the fugitives finally reached their destination. The door guarding the place had been torn right off its hinges, and the interior had been completely ransacked. The old man’s uniform, however, lay in an open, large crate, wrinkled and untouched, and waiting for him to put it on again.
“I see that Gargan and Rodriquez already grabbed theirs and took off, but first they left mine out in the open just to make sure I wouldn't waste any time. I can't say I regret hurling a car at Gargan once, but I won't deny that he did a good job”, he exclaimed triumphantly.
The uniform was complete, including the helmet, an oxygen mask with dark, green goggles and a pair of magnificent mechanical appendages that had enabled the old-timer to defy gravity — something no other mortal man could do. They weren’t even scratched. Perhaps the police had tried to grasp its function, but when they couldn’t figure it out, they simply gave up and left them there to rot.
“Boss, I think it still could use some adjustments, though”.
The old man nodded and put the jacket and the pants with difficulty. Perhaps the costume had shrunk. Perhaps time had punished him worse than he thought.
His stocky partner looked at him as he struggled with his task, and then glanced at the empty corridor. They were alone for now, but that wouldn’t last longer. He grew impatient but his best bet was that seasoned individual, and so, he waited.
“What has happened here is going to reach important people. I don’t know if Gargan, that idiot, realized that. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Of course I know, son” replied the elderly man, “I’m counting on it. But this time everything will go smoothly. I’m well aware that something happened near Roosevelt Island. The world has changed a lot, and I’ve changed with it. And it keeps changing as we speak. Soon, so will I. It’s time to get back in the game.”
Mason placed one of his hands over his mouth but said nothing.
“You are not really thinking about those clowns that called themselves the Avengers”, guessed the old man, now suited up and ready. “You are thinking about that blasted superhero who spins webs and sticks to walls like an insect. The one that people calls Spider-Man. Don't worry about him. Of course he’s a priority target for me. Still, there is a bigger fish in the ocean for us to catch. That big, fat fish did something incredible that day. Half the city froze in place as if time had stopped. Can you imagine that? I could have robbed a bank or stolen from everyone in the crowd, and no one could have done a damn thing about it”.
“Yeah. I was thinking about Spider-Man all right, and that paralysis thing you mentioned. Damage Control was involved. They must know something that we don’t.”
The old man nodded once more, and led them downstairs to the ground floor, where the main entrance was located. Blood and dead bodies could be seen on the floor as they made their way through the exit. “Your curiosity is spiking. Mine is too. We’ll soon find out what the hell is going on, and we’ll put whatever they are hiding from us to good use.”
The two men stopped in their tracks when they arrived at their destination. They stood in silence for a few seconds, as if they were trying to put together a big puzzle, even though they were missing several crucial pieces.
The sound of several footsteps heading their way had broken their concentration. They turned their heads to look at a relatively young man with raven hair, and a face covered with countless scars and a large, battered nose. He had been following their trail, and had apparently been listening to the conversation. He approached them timidly.
The old man said nothing; he recognized that person by sight and knew that it was another prisoner, just like them. He merely raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
“I couldn’t help but hearing what you were talking about” said the stranger in a low voice. He had a hunchback, and looked at the old man with sad, submissive eyes. “You may not know me or why I’ve been locked up here, but I assure you, I happen to have heard about you, Mr. Toomes”.
Toomes said nothing. He let the strange man talk.
“I also know the waters that fish swims in. If you let me join you, I can stir up those waters.”
Curiosity spiked again in the minds of Toomes and his partner.
“Oh, I know who you are, jigsaw. I'd already seen you hanging around the hallways. What I don't understand is how someone as insignificant as you knows about me or what Mason and I have been talking about. Perhaps you could help me with that task.”
That stranger didn't answer right away. He searched for the right words, since he needed to convince those men and prove his worth. After a few seconds had elapsed, the man seemingly unveiled one of the many missing pieces of the puzzle.
“I was there the day half the city froze. I wasn’t affected by it, though, because I was merely in the vicinity. That’s how I know.”
Mason raised an eyebrow after hearing that statement and shook his head in disbelief. “Boss, I don’t know if you should believe him”, then he pointed his finger at the newly arrived person. “What if he’s trying to set you up? And why didn’t you escape this hole earlier? Are you spying on us?”
“No, I wasn't trying to spy on you guys. It's just that…” the hunched man stumbled with his words. “I…I did something terrible in the past. I thought I deserved to be here, as punishment, so I turned myself in to the police. I was initially reluctant to escape; my idea was to remain locked up here. But now, with what you’ve been saying, I think I have a chance to make amends with my past and undo some wrongs”.
There was a sparkle in that stranger's eyes, as if he knew more than he let on.
“I could tell you what I have done, but that would be a waste of your time. Or you could let me cast a line in those waters and see if I can reel in a bite”.
The stranger lowered his head, his eyes now fixed on the ground.
“I beg you. Let me do that. You have nothing to lose, and the world to win.”
Toomes stared at him, looking at his battle-hardened face and thinking about his possibilities. He had met many people in his criminal life and a lot of them double-crossed him. He was certain that he risked being betrayed again, but there was something about that man’s face that told him he had to exploit his knowledge. So he made up his mind.
“Frankly, I don't give a damn about your story. You’re with us. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Thank you.”
Mason shook his head once again, but said nothing. Toomes was gazing into the distance with bright eyes, as if he already had a plan in motion.
He put on his helmet, and the dark mask completely erased his eyes from this world, replacing them with cold, artificial ones that glowed intensely green. He instantly transformed into an ominous figure, one that he hadn't been before he put on the helmet. He resembled more like a bird of prey instead of a human being.
The prison was empty. They were the only ones left. Still, Toomes wasn’t planning to escape through the main gate. A sharp blow from one of its incredible mechanical appendages against the roof of the already battered building sent debris tumbling down until the black sky came into view, through which the winds of freedom blew.
“Gentlemen, I am indeed old,” the now costumed criminal announced to his partners through the mask, “but that doesn't change anything. Old age is part of life, like that book said. However, that isn't always guaranteed...”
And with that, the crew vanished in the blink of an eye leaving behind several alabaster feathers that fell gently to the floor.