Date: Wednesday, July 28, 2010.

  Location: 44 Maiden Ln., Manhattan, New York

  Tyson paused at 44 Maiden Ling the weight of the momele on his shoulders. Before him loomed the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan. Its grand limestone fa?ade rose upwards, atuated by ornate carvings and patterns remi of a bygone age. Two enormous iron-bound doors, framed by two nterns, stood as gatekeepers guarding the entrance.

  He he stant flow of tourists lining up for the tours. Most of them chattered excitedly, cameras around their necks, their eyes full of curiosity. To them, it portunity to get a rare glimpse inside one of the world's most important financial institutions. For Tyson, it was so much more.

  As the magnitude of his i weighed heavily on him, the bustling New York crowd seemed oblivious to his internal struggle. Just as he was about to turn and walk away, a pyful voice pierced through his thoughts. "You know, when you're standing outside a big building looking all flicted like that, it's either girl trouble or you're about to make a really tough decision."

  Tyson turo see an elderly man standing beside him, dressed in aviatsses and a cardigan, his silver hair perfectly coiffed. The man had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and a grin that told of tless stories and adventures. "I've seen a lot of things, been in a lot of pces. More pces than you might think."

  Tyshe man immediately. He was stunned, staring in amazement and fusion. But he chose not to press the issue and instead spoke truthfully. "I'm... I'm pting something big," he admitted.

  The old man chuckled. "Oh, I see that. Trust me, kid, I’ve seen that look on many faces."

  Tyson looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. L his voice, he asked, "What if what I'm thinking isn’t noble or heroic? What if it's...selfish?"

  The old man scratched his thoughtfully. "Well, not every story is about saving the universe or a damsel in distress. Sometimes, the story is about making a choice for yourself."

  "But what if I get caught?"

  "Ah, the age-old dilemma," the old man said with a smile, "To take the risk or to stay safe? Look, every choies with sequehe real question is are you ready to face them, whether they're good or bad?"

  Tysoated, thinking deeply about the weight of his decision. "I don’t know if I do this."

  The elderly man cpped him on the back. "You know, I’ve seen many others hesitate before they leap. But sometimes, all you need is a little push in the right dire."

  "Are you saying I should do it?" Tyson asked incredulously.

  The man grinned. "I'm not saying you should, but I'm also not saying you shouldn’t. All I know is that sometimes you have to take risks."

  Tyson took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. "I just... I don’t want tret this."

  The old man smiled warmly. "Regret is a part of life. But remember, sometimes the biggest regret is not taking the ce when you had it."

  Tyson looked up at the Federal Reserve one more time, determination creeping into his eyes. The clock was tig on his use of Illyana's power.

  "Thank you," he said, turning to the elderly man. But to his surprise, the man was o be found. He had disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as he'd appeared. Tyson swore he heard a word echo from the space the man had vacated…

  Excelsior.

  Tyson approached the entrao the Federal Reserve Bank, easily blending into a group of eager tourists. All around him, people chatted animatedly, their faces lit up with excitement. One man ointing at the various features of the building, while couples leaned into each other, sharing whispered versations.

  Tyson activated his illusion ability, ing himself in a disguise. Though he was standing amidst the crowd, none would see the real him. To the tourists and guides, it was as if he was a medium-height, wide, ht, Texan tourist with a wide-brimmed hat. Tyson was, iy, wearing the outfit of the illusion he projected, but he ged his height, and skin color, and repced his muscur form with an obese bulk. To plete the outfit, Tyson ed a bandanna around his face, another detail that was obscured by his illusion, and hopefully wouldn't be too noticeable on cameras, obscured by his oversized hat.

  The heavy, ornate doors of the Federal Reserve Bank slowly opened, granting the group entrance. As they stepped ihe transition was remarkable. The noisy, bustling streets of New York were repced by a hushed, grandiose aura. The bank's interior was a blend of historical architecture and modern funality. Marble ns reached towards a high, decorative ceiling. Golden deliers hung low, casting soft, elegant light upon the polished floors. The very air inside felt rich with legacy.

  The tuide, a petite woman with a bright smile, ushered the group forward. "Wele to the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan! Throughout this tour, you'll see the operations of one of the most important financial institutions in the world."

  The group followed her as she led them through grand hallways. They passed offices with frosted gss doors, where silhouettes of employees could be seen discussing important matters. Dispy cases showcased historic s and old paper currency. The highlight of the tour was, of course, the vault. After desding the elevators in smaller groups, and passing through numerous security checkpoints, the tour found themselves standing before a massive steel door.

  The guide paused, letting the suspense build. "Behind this door," she began dramatically, "is one of the rgest gold vaults in the world. Thousands of gold bars, each weighing approximately 28 pounds. A literal mountain of wealth."

  Tyson's eyes locked onto the immense vault door. But he made no overt as. This wasn’t the time. Not yet. Instead, he silently itted every detail of the vault to memory. The number of security cameras, the pt of guards, the patterns on the vault door; every piece of information was crucial. As the tuide tio speak, discussing the history and significe of the bank's gold reserves, Tyson took mental notes. He o uand everything about this pce. Every er, every hallway, every door.

  After what felt like ay, the guide began to usher the group away from the vault. "Thank you all for visiting the Federal Reserve Bank. We hope you've found this tour enlightening, enjoy your stay in New York!"

  Tyson, still under his illusion, moved with the group, careful not to cause suspi. As they made their way through the same opulent halls they had entered, he felt a mix of anticipation and ay.

  Finally, the troup emerged bato the busy streets of Manhattan. The city’s sounds and sights were jarring pared to the bank's quiet, grand interiors. Tourists chatted excitedly, reting their favorite parts of the tour and discussing the unbelievable amount of gold they'd just seen.

  Blending in with the departing crowd, Tyson removed his illusion. He merged seamlessly into the New York foot traffic, just another fa the crowd. The Federal Reserve Bank's grand facade began to recede behind him, but his mission was only just beginning.

  Tyson walked the few blocks to Wall Street, finding TJ Maxx. Onside his eyes sed the aisles as he made his way to the luggage se. He perused the sele carefully. He needed suitcases that were not only rge but also sturdy enough to handle signifit weight. After a few moments of sideration, he selected a pair that seemed to meet his criteria. Their robust build and spacious interiors were exactly what he needed. With a pn in mind, Tyson proceeded to the checkout. He paid for the suitcases, maintaining a low profile amidst the crowd. Then, with the purchased items in hand, he casually walked outside, maneuvering through the bustling streets until he found a secluded spot around the er. Ensuring no one was watg, he teleported the suitcases to Limbo.

  He repeated this process, returning to the store to purchase another pair of suitcases, taking them outside, and telep them to Limbo just as he had done before. Tyson used his illusions to, blend in with the crowd of shoppers and ge his identity each time he re-ehe store. After several trips, Tyson had successfully transported a total of 10 suitcases to Limbo. With his task pleted, Tyson took a moment to ensure everything was in order before preparing for his move.

  He had picked out an alley behind a Chick-fil-A, led between John St. and Fulton St., as his staging area. This location was strategically chosen for its retive seclusion and its proximity to two key locations. The alley offered the perfect cover for Tyson's activities. It was quiet, tucked away from the street, providing the privacy he needed for his pns. Just as importantly, the alley put him within a quarter mile of both The Federal Reserve Bank, which he had visited earlier, and the Four Seasons Dohere he had been staying in the Empire Suite.

  As Tyson stepped into the alley, he sed the area with a careful eye, ensuring that he went unnoticed. Satisfied, he paused to take a deep breath, before beginning to execute his pn.

  Tyson's surroundings shifted instantly as he initiated the teleportation into Limbo. The bustling sounds of New York City were repced by the eerie, timeless atmosphere of Illyana’s dimension. Around him were the suitcases he had gathered and transported here.

  The alley had been a strategic choice because it provided a stable anchor point for his portals. In Limbo, time behaved differently, and the risk of time-ing was a stant when using Illyana’s teleportation powers. By using the alley as a fixed starting point, Tyson minimized these risks as both his target destinations were within a safe distance.

  Standing amidst his luggage colle, Tyson focused his attention on the phase of his pn. He visualized the guest bedroom in his suite at the Four Seasons Downtoace he had bee familiar with during his stay. With a clear image in mind, he jured a portal, the swirling vortex of energy opening up to the well-appointed guest bedroom.

  Closing his eyes for a moment, Tyson tried to recall every detail of the vault from the tour. The security measures, the size of the room, and the exact location of the gold stacks. With a clear image in mind, he extended his hand outward, fog his energy. A small, shimmering portal opened before him.

  Through the portal, he saw the gleam of the gold bars. It was the vault, just as he had pictured it. No guards in sight, at least not from this vantage point. The sheer amount of gold was staggering, almost unbelievable. A lump formed in his throat. This was it, the moment of truth. Would he gh with it?

  With a flick of his wrist, Tyson closed the portal. The shimmering void dissipated, leaving behind only the ever-gloom of Limbo. Taking a moment tain his focus, he visualized the inside of the Federal Reserve's gold vault. He pictured the stacks of gold bars, glistening aly arranged. With anesture, a new portal materialized, this one a bird's-eye view into the vault. It was a golden wall, the metal bars packed so dehey reached he ceiling. The sight was awe-inspiring.

  Carefully, Tyson reached an arm through the portal. He ed his fingers around a gold bar, its cool weight instantly pressing into his palm. The deal was heavy, but with his enharength, Tyson hardly noticed.

  Lifting the lid of one of the suitcases, he started stag the bars inside. One by ohe bars ked together, their weight causing the fabric of the luggage to strain. He ted each bar as he pced it in, ensuring he had exactly one hundred bars.

  Closing the lid, Tyson took a moment to marvel at his achievement. The heist roving successful, but he had a long way to go.

  With a grunt, Tyson gripped the suitcase's haightly, the sheer weight of the gold threatening to slip from his grasp. The wheels were utterly useless uhe immense load. He could feel the strain on the luggage’s frame, knowing it might give way if he wasn't careful.

  He held the first suitcase horizontally, using the solid side as a base while it was heavy with gold, and carefully maneuvered it through the portal into the guest bedroom of his suite at the Four Seasons. The weight was signifit, but Tyson ma with ease, thanks to his super strength.

  Ohe first suitcase was securely through, he turned his attention to the one waiting in Limbo. He dragged it over to another portal he had opened, ohat led directly down into the vault of the Federal Reserve above a different stack of gold.

  One by oyson filled each suitcase with gold, w effitly to trahe preetal through the portal. After filling all ten suitcases, Tyson began the process of dispersing them around his suite. He pced them in strategic locations, ensuring they were well-hidde easily accessible when he suite, with its luxurious decor and expansive yout, offered plenty of options for cealment.

  "Made it," he whispered to himself, a victorious grin spreading across his face. As he spread the suitcases throughout the suite, Tyson couldn't help but feel a sense of aplishment. The pn had e together smoothly. The heist had been a success, but what came was uain. Tyson now had to decide how to use his newfouh.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Inside a feren in the heart of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Director Nick Fury paced the floor. His pierg gaze held the iy of a storm, yet his voice was calm and calcuted when he began. "Listen up. We've got a situation."

  Fents sat around the table, heads turoward Fury. Agent Coulson leaned forward with pen poised over his notepad. Beside him, t Barton, the famed Hawkeye, scrutihe room with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. Natasha Romanoff, the Bck Widow, sat with an elegahat belied her lethality, her red hair a spsh of color iherwise muted space.

  Fury slid a series of folders to each of the agents. "The Federal Reserve Bank in Manhattan was hit. The thief got away with 1000 gold bricks. Each brick weighs 27.4 lbs, and gold is valued at around 1,200 an ounce. For those mathematically challehat's 526 million dolrs worth of gold." He paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. " getaway. No prints, no mistakes."

  Agent Coulson lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any leads?"

  Fury poio a surveilnce photo of a tall, imposing figure. "This is the only lead we have. Caught on camera, yet didn't register with any of the troups that day."

  t squi the photo. "Man's a giant. You'd think someone would've noticed."

  "That's what's odd," Fury said. "He stood with the troup, and whehers were questiohey only recalled a ‘fat cowboy’."

  Natasha leaned in, her greeudying the image. "Fat? That's quite a stretch for aire group to agree on. Are we dealing with an enhanced individual?"

  "It's looking that way," Fury replied.

  Coulson wondered aloud. "It's possible he possesses some form of telepathy or mind manipution, given that no oiced him."

  Natasha frowned, pig up the file. "Still, leaving behind this image was careless. An amateur mistake. Unless it was iional."

  Fury nodded, mulling over the possibility. "It might be a message. Or a challenge. We o find out who he is and what he wants… Besides the gold."

  Natasha added, "We should sider known enhanced individuals who fit the profile, and cross-refereh a activities."

  t leaned back, eyes still on the image. "Whoever this guy is, he's pying in the big leagues now. You don't just rob the Federal Reserve and walk away."

  The air was thick with purpose, the kind that made the entire room buzz with i. Nick Fury, face grave, addressed his team.

  "We've got the FBI, CIA, and a handful of encies bing the streets," Fury began, using his hands to emphasize the breadth of the iigation. "They'll hahe usual protocols, interviews, witness statements, and sc every avaible camera feed."

  Agent Coulson shifted slightly in his seat. "So, where does that leave us?"

  Fury's one eye gleamed with a mix of determination and ing. "I want S.H.I.E.L.D. to think outside the box. Use our resources and our tacts. We've got a bigger pool to fish from than the feds. Ideas?"

  t Barton, always qui the draw, offered, "The gold's got to go somewhere. I suggest we make tact with gold buyers. Not just any buyers, but the ones who deal in bulk. The ones who'd melt it down to resell. We o find out if anyone's approached them retly with a massive amount of gold."

  Coulson apping his pen oable thoughtfully. "Additionally, we should check out high-profile au houses. If this thief wants to move the gold quickly, they might turn it into artifacts or art pieces, selling them to the super-ri the bck market."

  Natasha's lips curved into a sly grin, her mind always several steps ahead. "Or we think even more unventionally. What if our thief isn't selling? What if the gold is a means to an end? Perhaps a distra for something bigger or a po for a signifit project."

  Fury leaned forward, his i piqued. "Eborate."

  "Suppose he's using the gold to buy something more valuable or dangerous. ons or information. Of if it's being used in some kind of eology." Natasha tinued, her voice dripping with intrigue. "I suggest we watch the arms and tech bck market. See if there's any unusual activity buyers."

  Fury's stern expression cracked into a smirk of approval. "Good ideas. Barton, you take point with the gold buyers. Coulson, look into the au houses and underground art world. Romanoff, dive into the bck market. See what bubbles up."

  The agents nodded in agreement, each with a clear dire and purpose.

  "This isn't just a theft," Fury remihem, his voice firm. "It's a statement. Let's find out what they're trying to say."

  The energy in the room alpable as the agents dispersed, ready to uhe mystery of the gold heist.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The room's overhead lights illumihe smooth surface of the fereable, casting a warm glow on t Barton's face. He looked triumphant as he faced his SHIELD allies.

  "I got something," t said, clig a remote to py the footage on a rge s. The video was grainy but showed a busy Diamond District street. A maered a gold dealer's shop a shortly after. From a distance, he looked just like any other er, but a few telltale signs caught t's expert eyes.

  "The guy's big, like uy from the Federal Reserve footage," t began. "Talked to a few folks in the Diamond District, and they pointed me to this dealer. This guy," he poi the man on s, "walked in and sold half of a gold brick. 80% market value, roughly 204 thousand dolrs." t tinued, "Here's the iing part. I got to the gold-monger before any of the feds did. He described the man who sold the gold bar as an average-height, Caucasian guy. Nothing like the big guy from the Federal Reserve footage."

  Fury's good eye narrowed, "What are you saying, Barton?"

  "I'm saying the video time stamp matches our tall suspect, but the descriptio."

  Natasha quickly chimed in, her voice razor-sharp with intrigue, "Even with a photostatic veil, you 't ge someone's height that drastically."

  Agent Coulson nodded in agreement, "So, we're dealing with an enhanced individual. Someone who ot only ge their appeara also their physical build. Or at least, the perception of their appearance."

  Nick Fury sat back, taking it all in, his fiapping the table thoughtfully. "I’m going to get some of the eggheads on this. See what we learn.”

  — Rogue Rept —

  Nick Fury stood at the head of the feren, its high-teterior illuminating the new set of folders Fury had pced in front of his agents. "Our techies worked some magid mao piece together a clearer picture of our suspect."

  He slid a picture across the table, revealing a young bck man with a strong build. "This is Tyson Smith."

  Natasha's eyes sed the tents of her folder. "Currently living it up in the Empire Suite at the Four Seasons downtown," she ented dryly.

  t looked up with an eyebrow raised, "Empire Suite? Swanky."

  Fury nodded, "That's not all. Turns out Mr. Smith has enrolled in his senior year at the Midtown School of Sd Teology."

  Agent Coulson jumped in, "So he's a student. That gives us something."

  t was still stu the age detail, looking incredulously at the photo, "Hold on a sed, he's still in high school?"

  Fury’s stern face betrayed a hint of amusement. "He is, or will be, in a few weeks."

  Natasha leaned forward, her mind rag ahead, "What's the py here? Do we pick him up?"

  Fury's expression turned more ptive, "No. Not yet. We know he's only pawned a small portion of that gold. But the gold's not our top anymore. The Feds are still scratg their heads, so as far as the encies are ed, we're going to drop the iigation, saying it's not our jurisdi. Our priority lies here. Enhanced individuals like him are a rarity. And this one's just a kid. I want eyes on him to watch his movements."

  Agent Coulson quirked an eyebrow, "Are you suggesting one of us goes undercover at a high school?"

  Nick's smirk widened, "Exactly. And I might just have the perfect cover for one of you."

  The room went silent for a moment, and t said with a smirk, "I already see Coulson as the new principal."

  Natasha rolled her eyes but grinned, "Only if you're the new wood shop teacher, Barton."

  Fury chuckled, "We'll sort out the details. For now, let's keep our eyes on the prize and remember. This is a reaissance mission. No moves until I give the order."

  The agents nodded in agreement, ready for their mission... Even if it meant heading back to high school.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson stepped inside Chikara Dojo, pausing for a moment to observe. He went ignored by the focused faces of the children as they went through katas uhe watchful eye of Colleen Wing. Tyson silently moved to a er, waiting. After the css, the children dispersed, bowing to Colleen and bidding their farewells.

  With the room now quiet, Colleen turo Tyson, "Took you a few days. Thought I might not see you again."

  He ran a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed, "Got caught up with some... odd jobs to earn a few bucks."

  Colleen's eyes sed him briefly, nding on the space beside him. "Your panion, Illyana. She's not with you today?"

  Tyson's gaze fell to the floor momentarily, sadness flickering in his eyes, "She left New York. I don't think she's ing baytime soon. It's just me now."

  A brief silence followed. Colleeilted her head, studying him, "Still ied iense program?"

  "Yeah," Tyson nodded, "but I only have a few weeks before school starts."

  Colleen crossed her arms, sidering, "We could work hard for the rest of the summer, and y a strong foundation. And once school's back, you could practi the afternoons. I'll have other csses, but I guide you with exercises and pointers. Think of it as a supervised, self-study."

  Tyson looked hopeful, "Really? That would be great."

  Colleen smiled, her eyes softened as she said, "This dojo is more than just a trainier. It's a family. We look out for each other. And, Tyson, you're wele to be a part of it."

  He grinned, "Thanks, Colleen. Sensei?"

  As the two discussed the pns for Tyson's training, Colleen cleared her throat, she began, "There's just the matter of payment. You mentioned pig up some odd jobs, but if the fee is too steep, we work something out. Weekly installments or..."

  Tyson waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off. "No need," he replied. Reag into his pocket, he pulled out a thick wad of cash. With a smirk, he asked, "Is it cool if I pay for the first three months upfront?"

  Colleen blinked in surprise. She hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded, stretg out her hand to accept the money. "Of course, that works," she replied, trying to keep her tone casual. However, as she looked at the notes in her hand, she couldn't help but wonder about the in of this ued windfall. She eyed Tyson, a hint of suspi in her gaze, "Doing odd jobs around town, huh? Must be some high-paying gigs."

  Tyson nontly replied, "Let's just say I've had a bit of good luck tely."

  Although grateful for his tribution to the dojo, Colleen couldn't shake off the nagging feeling. She wondered if Tyson was involved in anything dangerous or illegal. But for now, she decided to let it slide and focus on his training.

  Over a month, a montage of lessons pyed out…

  …Tysoed a series of kicks and punches. Under Colleen's watchful gaze, he practiced roundhouse kicks, jab-cross bos, and elbows, tirelessly w on his footwork and agility.

  …Wheime came for a more personalized session, Colleen sat cross-legged o, looking at Tyson ily. "You've grasped the basics quickly," she began. "But martial arts is not just about movements. It's about the spirit, the iion behind every punch, every kick. What do you want to focus on?"

  Tyson took a deep breath, uanding the gravity of her question. "I've always been strong," he begaantly, "but I prefer open-palm strikes." He shaped his hand into a d expined, "This... feels natural to me."

  Colleen raised an eyebrow, fusion, repced with suspi, befiving way to sideration. "That's not a on choice. Most find it unfortable." She paused, Tyson’s hands closely. "But there's a style, a form of kung fu, called Fu Jow Pai. Tiger Style. Its teiques are inspired by the strikes of a tiger's cws."

  Tyson’s eyes lit up. "That sounds perfect."

  Colleen smirked, amused by his excitement. "It won't be easy. But if you're up for it, we start today."

  …Sessions became more inteyson lu his imaginary oppo, fingers curled like a tiger's cws, aiming for the oppo’s throat or face. He learo bine swift footwork with devastating cw-like strikes. The power he felt, the alig of his uyle with this a martial form, was invigorating.

  …Colleen introduced ons into his training. First, the staff. She demonstrated a few moves, twirling it with an ease that left Tysoruck. When Tyson attempted, his movements were awkward and clumsy. But with every wrong move, Colleen was there, guiding, correg, and encing him.

  …Colleen expihe art of 'Iaido'. The way of the sword. She demonstrated how to draw, strike, and sheath the sword with swiftness and precision. Tyson watched, abs every detail, and whe his turn, he managed a few strikes, mimig Colleen’s movements. As they practiced, Colleen paused and looked at Tyson. "You've e far, but remember, a on is only as good as the person wielding it. Respect it, uand it, and it'll never fail you."

  The days flew by, with Tyson’s skills being more refined. Colleen often sparred with him, pushing him to his limits, and making him adapt and think on his feet. The month of interaining ended with Tyson, standing at the ter of the dojo, exeg a series of Tiger Cw strikes with utmost precision.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson opehe door to the Empire Suite after another interaining day, anticipating a warm shower. As he stepped in, a rid inviting smell tickled his nostrils, causing his mouth to water. But what caught him off guard was a familiar st, nearly masked by the food.

  He walked further in, and there she was. Illyana sat on the vish cou the ohe table in front of her was a delightful sight, covered in dishes he didn’t reize but felt an instant craving for. Discarded bags y haphazardly across the kit ter.

  "I hope you’re hungry," Illyana teased with a pyful lilt in her voice, her at as captivating as he remembered. "I brought all this from Nepal."

  "You know I am," Tyson responded with a grin. He moved towards her, ing her in a warm embrace. Their lips met briefly in a sweet reunion after weeks apart. He’d been doing some light meditation during his training. But it hadn’t helped to rein in his power in the slightest. So he quickly pulled back.

  Tyson's eyes took in the spread. There were savory dumplings, spicy curries, and a steaming pot that smelled of rich broth and fresh herbs.

  "You didn’t have to gh all this trouble," Tyson remarked.

  Illyana shrugged, "I wao. Plus, I thought you might need some fort food before heading back to school."

  Tyson groa the mention of school. "Don’t remind me. From training all day to sitting in a ."

  "But think about it," she tered, "only a year, and then you're free."

  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. She didn’t know it would be closer to two years before the A One would accept him as a student. And didn’t know how to expin it to her.

  As the rich aroma of the Nepalese dishes filled the room, Tyson and Illyaled fortably opposite each other. Tyson eagerly picked up a dumpling, taking a savory bite. "This is amazing," he praised, mouth full.

  Illyana chuckled. "Wait until you try the curry."

  "I've missed you," Tyson admitted, his tone slightly mencholibsp;

  Illyana reached across the table, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I missed you too," she whispered, her blue eyes softening. "Tell me about your training with Colleen."

  With ahusiastiod, Tyson began reting his experie Chikara Dojo. "Colleen is patient. We worked on some basics first, but then I told her about my... preference." He wiggled his fingers, indig his cw-like strikes.

  Illyana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And?"

  "She introduced me to Tiger style. It’s perfey cws." Tyson demonstrated a few moves, looking quite pleased. "Plus, she also taught me to use various ons. There's so much to learn, but I feel far more fident."

  Illyana grinned, "Sounds intense. Let me tell you about Kamar Taj."

  Tyson leaned forward, eager to hear her tales. With a dramatic sigh, Illyana began, "First, the altitude. It took me days to adjust." She made a face, clearly not having ehat part.

  Tyson chuckled, imagining Illyana huffing and puffing in the Himayas.

  "But once you get past that, it’s... magical, literally." Her face lit up with excitement. "The way they manipute energy, creating spellforms, it's unlike anything I've ever seen."

  His curiosity piqued, Tyson asked, "Did you learn any... cool tricks?" Illyana picked at her food, her brow furrowing in what seemed like frustration. Tyson took note of the sudden shift in her mood. "Hey, what's on your mind?" he asked, ed.

  With a deep sigh, Illyana looked up. Her usually fierce blue eyes held a hint of vulnerability. "It's just... you’ve progressed so mu your training, and here I am, struggling with the basics."

  Tyson leaned forward, trying to gauge her emotions. "What do you mean?"

  She scoffed, "I see other initiates opening portals left and right. And me? I've managed some fshy sparks, but that's it." She looked genuinely frustrated, a side of Illyana Tyson hadn’t seen before. "And spells?" she tinued, "Don’t eve me started. I punch, kick, and grapple with the others, but magic? It feels like I'm hitting a wall."

  Tyson reached out, taking her haly. "Hey, everyone has their own pace. Just because you're finding it challenging now doesn't mean you won't master it ter."

  Illyana's gaze hardened, her pride evident. "I'm not used to being... mediocre," she admitted begrudgingly.

  Tyson smiled softly. "You know, Colleen says that true mastery isn't about getting it right the first time, or eveenth. It’s about persevera's about rising every time you fall."

  Illyana rolled her eyes, though a tiny smile tugged at her lips. They shared a moment of uanding. Illyana's expression softened. "It's just... frustrating, you know? I want to be the best. But I guess I o learn patience."

  He chuckled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I have no doubt yoing to be a powerful sorceress. They were calling you Magik before you even knew magic was real."

  The atmosphere in the room became heavy with anticipation, as Tysoated. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, "So, yoing to stay at Kamar Taj?"

  Illyana looked deep into his eyes, her voice softer than usual, "Yes," she nodded, "I feel like I belong there. I've missed you so much, Ty, more than words describe. But training there, feeling the magi the air, it's like finding a missing piee. It's something I need."

  Tyson took a moment to digest this. He knew how important this was for her, but their separation was tough on him too. "Illyana, this past month..." he began, choosing his words carefully, "it felt both long and short. Days flew by, but every mome... inplete without you. I felt... hollow."

  A hint of vulnerability peeked on Illyana’s face. "I felt the same way. But we both know, we're on separate journeys right now. Jourhat'll pay off in the end."

  He sighed. "I know. And I want you to learn, to bee powerful enough to se Limbo. But it doesn't make missing you any less difficult."

  She moved closer to him, "We're a team, and we always will be. Distance 't ge that." Drawing close, Illyaly cupped Tyson's face, her fingers cool against his heated skihumb slowly traced the line of his cheekbone. Pulling away before the drain became too much, she looked deep into his eyes. "A year, Tyson," she began softly, "It's going to be a long time. But you . You o go to school, experiene sense of normalcy, have fun... be happy."

  Tyson shrugged, disfort wrinkling his brow. "I don't know about all that. I'm ly... typical high saterial, Illyana. Normal isly in the cards for me."

  "Oh, e on," she rolled her eyes, her voice taking on a challenging edge. "After all the hell you've been through? This should be a cakewalk. Think about it." she said, flig her hand at him, "You in high saking friends, going to me parties, and oh" she feigned a gasp, "Maybe getting a girlfriend?"

  He bliaken aback, his mouth opening and closing as he processed her words. "A girlfriend? Aren't you... I mean... aren't we..." He stumbled over the words, his certainty waning under her intense, pyful gaze.

  "Of course, we're something," Illyana said with a shrug, but her voice had an undercurrent of something deeper. "It's just a year, Tyson. Besides, with your... dition," she tinued, cirg her finger in the air vaguely towards him, "it's not like you get super close to anyone else, right? So, what's the harm?"

  Tyson frowned, "It feels wrong," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "And you're not just 'something' to me, Illyana. You know that."

  "I know. And you're not just something to me either. But we're not normal, are we? We don't get the luxury of simple. We're always in the middle of some storm." Her eyes, usually so fierce, held a hint of mencholy. "You o grab every experience you . Because who knows what tomorrow holds?"

  "Is it selfish to not want to let you go?" Tysoioned, his voice low, almost a growl.

  Illyana's tough facade was crumbling. "I don't want to hold you back. Think about it. A high school sweetheart, the drama, the excitement. It's a rite of passage, no? I won't lose you to some cheerleader. And who knows, it might be fun to hear stories about you fumbling through flirting."

  A relut smile tugged at his lips. "You think I'd be bad at it?"

  "I know you'll be adorable trying," she quipped back, the fire returning to her eyes. "So, promise me you'll give it a shot? Live a little, for both of us? Since you didn’t get to at the institute."

  Tyson's gaze held hers, reading the ear plea in her eyes. This was her way of g, he realized, her way of ensuring he didn't miss out on life, even if she couldn't be as much a part of it as they both wanted.

  "Okay," he capituted, "I'll try.."

  Illyana's smirk returned, full force. "That's the spirit," she said with a wink. She pulled out the small ented item the A One had givehe artifact that would allow them to touch, even if just for twenty minutes. She held it up between them, watg his rea.

  "I mean," she began with a teasing tone, voice dripping with sultry suggestion, "I'm the only one who really... enjoy you." She paused, tapping her thoughtfully, though the mischief in her eyes betrayed her mock seriousness. "So, the question is, should we use this now or save it for ter?"

  The room's air grew thick with tension, a charged expecy that buzzed between them. Illyana's eyes were intehe teasing quality never fully leaving them. "Just because we're going to be apart doesn't mean I'm willing to risk some high school girl swooping in and stealing what's mine," she decred, her tone possessive yet pyful.

  Tyson's throat felt dry, his heart thundering against his ribs. "Yours?" he mahe word barely a whisper.

  She firmed with a nod, leaning in so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her. "That innoce? It belongs to me. Imagine," she tinued, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "if you finally learn to trol this power of yours while I'm away..." Her gaze flitted to his lips, then baeet his eyes. "I'd have missed my ce to... spoil you for any irl."

  "You've already corrupted me, remember?" he tried to joke, though his voice was tinged with longing. "Thanks to my illusions." Tyson swallowed hard, the memory of the night they'd shared fshing in his mind.

  Illyana scoffed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "Illusions," she echoed with a roll of her eyes. "They're fun, satisfying, and it feels so real that I 't tell the difference… but it's not real." Her hand reached up, h mere inches from his face, the desire to touch mirrored in both their expressions. "Nothing repce the real thing. To actual touch. To true intimacy."

  The words hung heavy betweeyson was the first to break the silence, "So, what are you suggesting?"

  Her smile was all victory aation, eyes alight with triumph. "I suggest we make some real memories, ohat'll have to st us both for a whole year." Tyson's breath caught in his chest, the reality of what she was dawning on him. "And when we're ag from the absence," she tinued, "we'll have this moment to hold onto."

  He he a bringing his face dangerously close to hers, their breaths mingling. "Okay," he breathed out.

  Illyana's smirk softened into something tender, perhaps vulnerable, an expression reserved only for him. "Okay," she echoed. "But, since we only have twenty minutes, we should probably start with...illusions."

  Tyson reached for her, his thumb trag the high arc of her cheekbone, marveling at the surreal reality his powers created. Drawing her closer, their lips met in a kiss that spoke of starved longing and tender affe. To Illyana, it felt so real, so vivid, but she k was his power. There was no drain, no ebbing of her life force.

  Their kiss deepened, and the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a universe of Tyson's creation. Hands explored her body, rekindling the fmes between them. It was sighs and soft ughter, a narrative told in the silent nguage of yearning looks and urgent caresses. Somehow, they found themselves moving, drawn toward the bedroom. Clothes became a fotten casualty along the way, discarded haphazardly.

  In the soft light of the bedroom, the ethereal glow of her skin trasted artfully against his duskier tones. Her ptinum locks were a wild cascade around a face flushed with need. His features had sharpened with desire yet were softened by affe.

  It was a sight, a moment, they both wao sear into their memories, to carry with them through the lonely nights ahead.

  With a breath that trembled, Illyana reached for the artifact that had beeing on the bedside table. It hummed with magic as she csped it around her neck, the metal felt cool against the heat of her skin.

  Tyson took the pce previously occupied by his illusion. The warmth of her skin was real under his hands now. The weight of his touch was no longer an illusion but tangible, real. They gasped at the actual, physical tact they'd been denied for so long.

  The e they shared in those moments was transdent. It was tender yet passionate, an expression of love and longing too powerful for mere words. Their world narrowed down to the sound of shared breaths, the patter of skin against skin, and the quiet decrations spilled in the space between kisses. Time was their enemy, but became irrelevaing only in the beats of their joined hearts. And when the climax came, it was with a shared sense of wonder, a realization that what they had was worth every sed of waiting, every moment of yearning.

  They colpsed together in a tangle of limbs and satisfied ughter. The artifact's glow dimmed as the spell wound down. But the memory of their shared experience, burned all the brighter for it.

  Ierglow, they y together, but apart, the artifact silent around Illyana's neck. They didn't need words; their shared gnces spoke volumes, promises, and reassurances exged without a sound.

  They'd faorrow when it came, with its uainties and challenges. But for now, in this quiet moment, they were simply Tyson and Illyana, together.

  And that was enough.

  AN: Thus marks the end of Arc 3, the end of Tyson and Illyana’s retionship (for now), and the pletion of what I sider Book 1. Arcs 1-3 were 130k words, a little lohan I would’ve liked for a first book, and enpassed 2 Marvel movies. I sider the Arcs following this one as books of their own. Arc 4 is fully edited and will tinue being released with the accelerated posting schedule, and enpasses 2 Marvel movies as well. Arc 5 is pletely written and the posting on Scribble Hub and WebNovel will catch up right around the first chapter release, when postings will even out at 5k words per week. Arc 5 enpasses 3 Marvel movies. Arc 6 is still being written and will be shorter c 1 movie, while Arc 7 is mostly outlined, but should cover plotlines from 2 or 3 movies.

  - It ointed out by a few readers that the sorcerer’s quest and cost are not what is seen in the MCU. For the sorcerer stuff, I tried to pull from what we’ve seen in Dr. Strange, Infinity War, and Multiverse of Madness ((MoM Spoiler Alert)); during which we see two characters bee sorcerers, Strange and America Chavez.

  The idea ulled from a throwaway exge in Dr. Straween Strange and Pangborn: “The pce you're looking for is called Kamar-Taj. But the cost there is high.”

  “How much?”

  “I'm not talking about money. Good luck.”

  I expiyson’s view of Strange’s quest and cost, and looking at America’s journey, it isn’t so different. Quest: Survive being hunted by Wanda, maybe learn to trust, w/e Cost: Losing your home reality, and family. By the time she starts training, she’s lost everything, except her power.

  While it may be a loose association, I decided to run with that interpretation.

  Maybe only the most powerful sorcerers have that kind of trial…

  Or maybe The A One is trying to manipute events to create a specific oute…

  The cost to learn sorcery is high, astronomically so for Tyson. At a minimum, he has to ensure Asgard gets the Tesseract as part of his quest. This means he has to give up an Infinity Stone, ohat doesn't resurfatil Ragnarok ically. So his cost is an Infinity Stone + his unstated cost. Why is it so high? Because magic is that powerful in Marvel. Dr. Strahout the time stone held his owy well against 4-stohanos. While Strange is an outlier, so is Tyson. Trapping someone in the mirror dimension is an i-win button for ahout dimensional travel capability. It didn’t waiher Thanos or Wanda, but the Scarlet Witch is hax and Thanos had the Spad Reality sto the time.

  - I may be a bit dramatic, but Dr. Strange had a signifit emphasis on the cept of time. It’s seen throughout the movie, even before the time stone is introduced. Seriously if you rewatch, keep track of how many times watches are shown in the first act of the movie. Throughout Act 3 of this story, I tried to do something simir. Emphasizing time. While this act is the first one where Tyson experiences freedom and isn’t in a rush; this ges when he finds the sorcerers, and there are signifit time restris pced on him. 5 weeks to stop Azazel and for Illyana to choose to bee a sorcerer, 7 hours with Illyana’s power. 20 minutes with the amulet, and 369 years of magiake a perma version.

  I waime to be a subtle but signifit background piece during this Arc. This is also why Tyson didn’t go after drug cartels or career criminals. Time. Sure he has the capability but it would take time to b through a drug cartel and travel outside the US. It's nearly guarayson would not have been able to do so within the 7-hour window he had with Illyana’s power. Just getting to the Mexico border from NYC is ballpark 2,000mi which is 8,000 jumps for Tyson. 1 jump/sed that's still over 2 hours, one way. He's losing half his time just on traveling. Meanwhile, the Federal Reserve was less than a mile from his suite. tally, I set the 1/4 mile limitation on Illyana’s power, and I picked the Four Seasons Downtown months before I wrote The Heist. But it worked out nearly perfectly using real-life distances.

  Perhaps Tyson will do things like messing with drug dealers or stealing from criminals iure…

  - As for Illyana, I’m really gd to read that some of you have taken a liking to her after all these chapters. I tried to make her someone you hated initially because she was a bitch… and turned her into someone you liked, but was still a bitch lol. Last chapter, her departure t, but I hope that this one offers a little more insight and closure. Illyana will make future appearances I’ve already written one. But as hinted, she’s pleted her ‘Heroe’s Journey’. Her big quest is to rid Limbo of demons, but that’s years away from the current point of the story.

  Behind the ses

  - In case you missed it, that was a Stan Lee cameo in the beginning. I missed writing a came the X-Men arc because I hadn’t thought of it, and his cameo in that movie happens in a se that wasn’t included in this story. And, X-2 does not have a Stan Lee cameo. Decided it’d be fun to throw it in here. Trying to shem into every Arc going forward.

  - Barton’s joke of Coulson posing as the principal was a refereo the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon, where Coulson was Midtown’s principal.

  - I thought it would be fun/ironic to introduick Fury pyed by Samuel L. Ja, by using a plot line inspired by Die Hard with a Vengence, also starring Samuel L. Ja.

  - All the locations used in the heist correspond with real-world locations… except Limbo

  - It may have been an odd choiy part to make the explicit se between Tyson and Illyana an illusion, and the ‘real’ intimate se be ‘fade to bck’. While that chapter was skippable, one of the purposes of that chapter, and many other instances in this Arc was to establish the uses and limitations of Tyson’s illusion power, si isn’t something that’s heavily featured on s and not very well defined when it is featured.