Ultra Responsibility (My Hero Academia X Spider-Man Reader)

Issue 7 - Secret Wars

It was the next morning. The sun had barely risen, yet the city already buzzed with news vans and speculation about the explosion at Harry's penthouse. The building was taped off, the Osborn name running damage control. Harry himself had been whisked away to one of his father's "safe houses."

The party was a bust, the cover-up already underway, and now, somewhere in the city, an electric quirk user was on the loose.

I needed answers.

With my web-shooters fried, I had lost most of my fluid, which meant I was running on fumes until I could replenish it. I scaled the side of the building the old-fashioned way, clinging to cold glass and concrete with sore fingertips. My body screamed with every pull, muscles stiff from the electricity still coursing through me, exhaustion from barely three hours of sleep weighing on my bones. By the time I pulled myself onto the ruined balcony, I was panting hard enough to fog my mask.

The place was wrecked. Scorched birthday cards were scattered across the marble like ash, one still half-burned with Happy 16th smeared in melted glitter. Peni's gift sat unopened, box dented but intact. I stuffed the cards into my bag and froze as voices echoed from inside.

Guards. Osborn's.

Flattening myself against the ceiling, I crawled above the door as they stepped out, rifles slung lazily at their sides.

"Look at this mess. You'd think Mr Osborn would've learned by now not to run his little experiments in his own home. His kid could've died."

"Yeah, lucky they all got out. That Spider freak was on the scene. Convenient, huh?"

"Convenient or not, the birthday boy got knocked around. Heard he's still banged up."

"Poor kid. Anyway, keep your mouth shut. You know we don't ask questions about what Osborn keeps down there, lab rats and all."

I clenched my jaw, snapping a few photos on my phone as they moved on. Lab rat. What the hell were you up to, Norman?

Once the coast was clear, I followed the path of the explosion, down through gaping holes in the flooring, floor after floor, until I landed in what was left of a lab.

Or maybe a war zone.

Steel beams twisted into molten arcs, shattered glass embedded in the walls, and entire rows of equipment reduced to scrap. I stepped carefully, every sound echoing too loudly in the silence.

That's when I saw it: a massive containment unit, large enough to hold the Hulk if you tried. Its silver-lined interior was cracked, but not shattered. I ran my fingers over the fractured surface and felt the residual static crawl up my arm. "Silver, makes sense. High electrical resistance. Whoever was in here wasn't just a test subject; they were a prisoner."

Out of the corner of my eye, a faint light flickered.

A cracked monitor.

I pried it from the rubble, tapping the screen until static gave way to shaky video.

"Test 002," Norman Osborn's voice filled the broken lab, calm and clinical. "This is Norman Osborn, beginning the second trial of Project Sinister. Subject 009 shows progress in dampening his quirk, but much more remains to be done."

The footage panned. A man slammed against the glass from within the containment chamber. His face twisted in fear. His voice cracked. "I don't want to do this anymore. Please, please, I just want to see my sister again!"

Norman's reply was cold. "We're trying to help you. You can't go home like this. You wouldn't want to put your sister, Rumi, at risk again, would you?"