Najicablitz
patreon
A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite Ch 68
🕑 Added 2025-04-13 14:44:14 +0000 UTCDetective Yuri Watanabe spread the missing persons files across her desk, her fingers tracing the patterns of disappearances. The board behind her was covered in photographs, red strings connecting seemingly unrelated cases. Each file represented a life interrupted—people who had vanished without a trace.
She leaned back in her chair, studying the documents. The cases were unusual. No signs of struggle, no bodies, no consistent geographic pattern. Typically, Grongi left behind evidence—ritualistic markings, distinctive wound patterns, traces of their brutal killings. But these disappearances were different. Clean. Methodical.
Yuri pulled out a stack of medical examiner reports, her brow furrowing. The cases spanned different demographics—young, old, male, female. No obvious connection. No apparent motive.
Something doesn't add up, she thought.
She began cross-referencing dates, locations, looking for any subtle thread that might connect these seemingly random disappearances. Each file represented a mystery, a family left without closure.
Her partner would call her obsessive. But Yuri knew that every detail mattered. Every missing person deserved answers.
The fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting shadows on the scattered documents. Yuri continued her meticulous investigation, unaware of the true nature behind these inexplicable vanishings.
Detective Watanabe grabbed her jacket and keys, sliding into her department-issued sedan. The car's interior smelled of stale coffee and leather, a familiar scent that accompanied her through countless investigations.
The GPS guided her to an affluent neighborhood in the Upper East Side. Massive brownstone townhouses lined the street, each with immaculate facades and wrought-iron fences. The victim's residence stood out—a three-story Victorian-style home with bay windows and intricate architectural details.
Yellow police tape cordoned off the property. Uniformed officers stood guard, their breath visible in the crisp morning air. The house's white paint seemed to gleam unnaturally, almost sterile against the muted autumn landscape.
As Yuri approached, she flashed her detective's badge. The officers recognized her and lifted the tape, allowing her entry. The front door was slightly ajar, revealing a marble foyer with a crystal chandelier hanging overhead.
Inside, the house was eerily quiet. Expensive artwork adorned the walls—abstract pieces in muted tones. A faint scent of lavender and expensive cologne lingered, mixed with something else. Something metallic. Something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Yuri's footsteps echoed on the polished hardwood floors. The silence was punctuated only by the soft rustling of crime scene technicians moving carefully through the rooms, their protective suits creating a gentle swishing sound.
She surveyed the immaculate living space, waiting to begin her initial assessment of the scene.
Detective Watanabe stepped into the master bedroom, her keen eyes scanning every detail. The spacious room screamed wealth—silk curtains, a king-sized mahogany bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, and designer artwork that probably cost more than her annual salary.
But something was off.
The mirror on the far wall was shattered, its fractured surface creating a spiderweb of broken glass across the expensive wallpaper. Jagged shards littered the plush cream carpet, glinting under the soft morning light that filtered through the windows.
A single dark smudge marred the pristine white sheets—something between a blood stain and an oily residue. The forensic team was carefully documenting its unusual texture, their cameras clicking softly in the quiet room.
The air felt heavy, carrying a strange mixture of scents. Expensive cologne—something European, likely imported—mixed with a metallic undertone that made Yuri's nose wrinkle. Beneath that, a faint smell she couldn't quite place. Something organic, but not quite blood. Not quite human.
She noticed scratch marks on the hardwood floor near the bed. Not deep gouges, but precise lines. Almost deliberate. The forensic team was carefully measuring and photographing each mark, their movements methodical and precise.
The victim's personal items were scattered—a Rolex watch on the nightstand, an open laptop, a half-empty glass of water. Everything suggested the person had been interrupted mid-routine, caught completely by surprise.
Yuri moved closer to the broken mirror, careful not to disturb any potential evidence. The fracture pattern was unusual—radiating outward in a perfect geometric pattern, as if something had struck it with incredible precision.
"Something doesn't feel right."
Detective Watanabe frowned, her brow furrowing as she surveyed the crime scene. Something felt off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She walked around the room, her trained eyes scanning every detail—the perfectly arranged furniture, the meticulously organized personal items, the shattered mirror.
What am I missing?
She pulled out her notebook and jotted down observations, but nothing seemed to connect. The forensic team continued their careful documentation, their movements precise and methodical.
After several more minutes of careful examination, Yuri realized she wasn't going to uncover anything new at the scene. Sometimes, investigations required a different approach.
"I'll need to talk to the victim's associates," she muttered to herself, pulling out her phone to start making calls.
As she turned to leave, her jacket brushing against the doorframe, she missed the subtle shimmer in the broken mirror's fragments. Behind the fractured glass, a shadowy form—Dispider—watched her departure with predatory intensity, its reflection barely perceptible in the morning light.
…
At Midtown High, Ace wandered the hallways, his eyes constantly searching for Nico and Berto. Every time he spotted them, he would take a step forward, open his mouth to speak, and then watch as they deliberately turned away.
"Nico," he called out during lunch period. She didn't even glance in his direction, continuing her conversation with Berto.
Between classes, he tried again. "Hey, can we talk?" But Berto subtly guided Nico away, creating distance between them and Ace.
The hallway conversations became a pattern of near-misses and deliberate avoidance. Ace would start to approach, and they would suddenly become engrossed in conversation or quickly duck into another classroom.
His attempts grew more desperate. During passing period, he quickened his pace, "Wait, I can explain—" But before he could finish, Nico and Berto had already turned the corner, leaving him standing alone in the crowded hallway.
Each rejection felt like a physical weight, making Ace's shoulders slump a little more with every failed attempt to reconnect.
Ace wandered the hallway, his shoulders slumped and his mind preoccupied with the growing distance between himself and his friends. Lost in thought, he suddenly collided with someone, causing both of them to stumble back.
"Oh, sorry!" he said, looking up to see Gwen Stacy standing before him.
"Hey, Ace," Gwen replied, adjusting her backpack. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, quickly noticed something was off. Ace's usual confident demeanor had been replaced by a noticeable melancholy.
"Hi," Ace mumbled, attempting to move past her.
Gwen stepped slightly to the side, blocking his path. "Everything okay?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.
"It's nothing," Ace said, avoiding her gaze.
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem like nothing. Come on, Ace. Tell me."
Ace hesitated, unsure if he should talk to Gwen about his problems.
Gwen leaned against the lockers, her arms crossed. "Spill it," she said, her tone both commanding and sympathetic.
Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nico and Berto are mad at me. I keep disappearing without explanation, and they're tired of it."
"Let me guess," Gwen said, her eyebrow arching with a hint of sardonic amusement. "You've got some complicated explanation that sounds like total nonsense?"
"Pretty much," Ace sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Every attempt just makes Nico and Berto more frustrated. They see me as this unreliable guy who keeps vanishing without a real reason."
Gwen's expression softened. "Look, I get it. Secrets are complicated. But friendships need trust. Have you tried being honest - well, as honest as you can be?"
"What do you mean?" Ace asked, looking up.
"Don't give them full details," Gwen explained. "Just acknowledge that you have responsibilities you can't always discuss. Show them you care by being present when you can."
Ace considered her words. "So instead of making excuses, actually be upfront about the fact that I can't always explain?"
"Bingo," Gwen said, giving him a supportive punch on the shoulder. "Real friends will understand if they know you're trying."
Ace smiled gratefully at Gwen. "Thanks," he said sincerely. "Your advice really helps."
Gwen shrugged. "No problem."
Suddenly, Ace's phone vibrated. He glanced down and saw Detective Yuri Watanabe's name flashing on the screen. Recognizing the potential urgency, he looked up at Gwen. "I need to take this," he said apologetically.
Stepping a few feet away, Ace answered the call. "This is Kamen Rider," he spoke quietly, his tone shifting to a more serious register.
Yuri's voice came through crisp and urgent. "Rider, we might have another Grongi incident developing. I need your help."
"I understand," Ace replied, his eyes scanning the hallway briefly.
After a quick exchange, Ace ended the call and turned back to Gwen. "Something important just came up," he explained. "I have to go."
Gwen nodded, understanding the cryptic nature of his departure. Ace said a quick goodbye and hurried down the hallway, his mind already shifting to the potential Grongi threat Yuri had mentioned.
