--Discontinued -- A Revenant [Gwen Stacy/Ghost-Spider x OC]

Arc 3 : Chapter 1

"It's been a while since I visited, hasn't it, Gwen? Sorry about that, life's just been... hectic." He knelt down in front of the headstone, surrounded by armed guards, their weapons all pointed at him. "I've, uh, I've done some things, most of them aren't good. But that's all for you, I have to see you again."

The guard in front of him stepped forwards, using the gravestone as a barrier between him and the large, murder-prone robot. Revenant looked up, watching the guard to make sure he didn't touch the headstone.

"You're time's up, Cross. Let's go." With a sigh, the tall, lanky robot stood to his feet, wiping the specs of dirt that clung to his metallic knees. He put his cuffed hands out, allowing them to attach the chain to the restraints.

"You motivate my every action, my every thought. It all is to see you again. That's either very romantic or incredibly depressing; I haven't decided yet. It's probably a mix of both."

"Shut it, murderer." One of the guards said, reaching back and hitting him in the metallic head. He must've been the bravest man in the group, or the dumbest. However, Revenant complied. He stopped his prayer-like whispering, silencing himself entirely as he delved into the recesses of his own mind.

He had heard of the ancient "method of loci" taught by Cicero to countless; a mind palace, as it were. He was familiar with the technique, but not by man's own prowess. Rather, he was given a memory bank as an addition to his brain, a mechanical facsimile, full of memories both good and bad.

He stood in the large halls of his mechanical mind palace, staring at its cavernous ceiling and walls painted a deep sanguine. It dripped off the wall, an unending oozing of coagulated blood. In the highest points of his cathedral of shame, blood spat down in vicious droplets, pattering into the slick runoff that thinly coated the floors.

The worst part of it all, he knew every one of their names. They were etched into an obelisk in the center of the room, their pleading eyes and mouths cramped and contorted into looks of fear, guilt, and pleading.

He came here after every kill, inscribing the name onto the ever-growing pillar. The most recent: Marcus Adams, loving husband and father of two—slain by his own hand. Why? He got in the way. He put himself in between Revenant and the technology the murderer craved that night.

That night. The night that brought him here.

——— - — - ———

It was a damp midnight, the only lights were the humming streetlights and the passing of headlights as hardworking providers returned to their homes and officers patrolled, searching for him.

They were no matter to him. He could easily evade them. Hell, they never found him in the first place. Nobody looks up anymore, they don't bother to check if someone's staring at them, clung to the ceiling just above their peripherals. Not the cops, not civilians, and definitely not the guards he crawled past below him.

He reached a vent, too small for even his frame. Alchemax's way of preventing break-ins apparently. It wouldn't work anyways, as he simply activated his ashen form, slinking into the vent through the grate. He navigated through the vent, reaching his target: the infantile multiversal research wing. He didn't have much to base it off of, but his world seemed to be decades behind the rest of the multiverse. Hell, they didn't even have a Super-Collider.

He rematerialized on the floor, his feet connecting with the ground soundlessly. He slinked through the wing, trying to find the part he was looking for. He had done his research, he knew it was here somewhere.

"Really?" A voice caught him off guard. He turned, seeing a kid in a black and red Spider-suit laying on a barren desk, his mask lifted up to his nose as he ate a donut. "How did I know you were going to be here?"