I barely make it to my hideout for the night when I the alert comes through my system. "ALERT: PRIMARY TRANSFER OF CONTROL." My heart stops in my chest. The ground starts shaking under me—or maybe I'm just shaking; it's hard to tell. All I know is that I can barely breathe as I collapse on the floor.

"ARTI? Please, tell me he didn't."

It's quiet, which only confirms my fear.

"No, no, no." I press my hands to my eyes and watch the array of colors on the back of my eyelids. "This is just a bad dream. It's just a really, really bad dream. Please, let it just be a bad dream."

"I'm afraid it's not." ARTI tells me, and the proof that it's truly real makes tears stream down my cheeks. "It appears that this was part of Beck's plan all along. I've tapped into EDITH's feed when Peter transferred his control."

"How? Isn't he technically a primary user now?" I pause, thinking it over, "Unless you used the momentary lapse in the security protocols for the transfer to access the previously restricted parts of EDITH's system. You've been studying my hacking methods, haven't you?"

"I've been with you for years now, which means I've gotten to learn a lot from you."

"Aw, is that an actual compliment?"

"Of sorts." He replies and shows me the information he can access. "I can't get a visual or override any of his commands now that Beck is a primary user, but I can track his every step, obtain an audio feed, and provide you with real-time information about what he's using EDITH's systems for."

"Good. I need his location and run the voices of anyone he interacts with through the system. He can't be working alone in this. It's too intricate, too personal, and way too well funded to be him and a motley crew."

"Already working on it."

"And his location?" I ask after a long moment passes without any noticeable shift from ARTI, but he remains quiet. "I'm not gonna argue on this. If we let him keep going, there's no telling what damage he'll do. It's better to stop him now before he gains too much more momentum or gets too acquainted with EDITH."

"It's too dangerous. He's likely still under Fury's watch—I'll admit not constantly if he's getting away with this, but enough to put you at an unnecessarily high risk."

My shoulders roll back as the trademark Stark stubbornness boils under my skin. "It's not unnecessary if it helps save people—if it helps save my friends—if it—if it helps keep Peter safe."

"I'm afraid I have to disagree. Peter can take care of himself, but if you're caught, it gives the people behind the Trials exactly what they want. Not to mention what happens if they find out your lineage." There's a pause, and I can already feel myself deflating knowing what he's about to say. "Think of Morgan. Do it for her safety as much as yours."

"They shouldn't have to be separate issues. I should be able to protect both of them at once." I snap and ball my hands into fists to resist the urge to throw my glasses—and ARTI—across the room. "I don't care about the risks anymore ARTI. Morgan's got Happy and the rest of the Avengers watching over her. She'll be fine. So give me the location. Now!"

"You know I can't go against my base code. The best I can give you is the audio feed."

I rip my glasses off so forcefully they nearly snap in half. My mood only darkens as Beck's smug voice echoes in my ears. "This is a big win, but we still got a lot of work to do." It's almost drowned out by the chants for a toast, which confirms my suspicion that he's got his own team behind him. "Okay, toasts!" Beck shouts joyously, and my blood begins to boil with a brewing supernova.

The energy shows a glow under my skin, and I quickly release it in a quick slash that leaves a deep, burning cut in the wall of the abandoned building. If ARTI isn't going to tell me where Beck is, I'll just find and stop him myself.

Beck continues on sounding more smug with every syllable that he speaks. "To the man who brought us all together, our former boss, Tony Stark."

If I was enraged before, there's no words for it now. It only worsens with the chorus of 'boo's that arise from the crowd. "Lia, I must advise you that your heart rate and energy levels are reaching dangerous levels."

"Not now." I seethe through gritted teeth.

"The jester king," Beck continues, "Literally wrapped in wealth and technology that he was unfit to wield—like the holographic system I designed."

"You mean theorized?" I scoff, "It would be nothing but a pipe dream if Dad hadn't funded and helped make it into something."

"A revolutionary breakthrough with limitless applications that Tony turned into a self-therapy machine and renamed Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or 'BARF' as he liked to call it."

I stop in my tracks. Beck really has lost his mind. Dad saw the immense good that could come from the system. The psychiatric therapy it could provide to countless people, but I remember how Beck ranted to me about how it would be so much better for military applications like training soldiers in combat without risking any bloodshed. But I know how Dad was, he was sick of fighting, and after everything that happened when Stark Industries made weapons, he vowed to never let them create another.

"He renamed my life's work 'BARF.'" Beck complains, which was never against him. Dad just liked acronyms—even if they spelt things that weren't flattering. Heck, we even made a project together that ended up being titled 'CRAP.' Cellular Repair Analysis Program was supposed to be a healing ability for the suits, but we never got it to work. It never meant Dad hated it; it's just the name that worked.

"I told him it was a mistake, that my technology could change the world. And then, he fired me. He said I was, unstable." Because you're a megalomaniac that has severe issues with authority and destroyed a lab over being told 'no' for once. "To Tony."

"To making you regret ever crossing me and my family again." I whisper as I weave through the slowly emptying streets of Prague. All I need to do is find a place that Beck would have been able to dress up for his scheme.

"Next to William," Beck calls, and I listen closely to William's story. His voice sounds startlingly familiar. I know I've heard it before. The only way to be sure would be to ask ARTI, but I refuse to ask. He doesn't seem to be in the helpful mood right now.

Instead, I continue to listen to the infuriating voice of Beck. "The integration of my illusion tech with your weaponized drones was brilliant." Figures there was an actual brain behind this. "Powerful illusions, real damage, worked like a charm. And it's just the beginning."

"Thank you, brother." William calls, and it still pesters me that I can't place his voice.

"To Guterman," Beck calls out someone else, and this time I know where I recognize the name—along with William's voice. My thought is confirmed as Beck continues his congratulations, "The story you created of a solider from another earth named Quentin fighting in Europe is totally ridiculous—" His voice fades out as it all hits me.

My blood runs cold. They really did transplant my family's story to use it for their own gain. Guterman was part of the OSCORPS outreach program at my Gran's nursing home, which means he probably heard her rambling about it hundreds of times on her bad days, and I'm fairly certain I met William at one of Jim's work events.

ARTI pulls up the profile of each person in turn. Funny how he suddenly decided to help out again, but he confirms the theory. Each person worked for Stark Industries and left or were poached to work at OSCORPS. It's true. I was right all along; they've been hunting me for most of my life, ruined my life six months ago, and sent the Reaper after me when I started retaliating.

"And to the rest of you," Beck's voice comes back into focus, still sounding as smug as ever, "Tony Stark is gone. There's a window of opportunity, and someone will step up. But these days, you can be the smartest guy in the room, the most qualified, and no one cares. Unless you're flying around with a cape, or shooting lasers from your hands, no one will even listen."

Figures he'd be one of the jerks who hates REMS, or anyone else who fills the positions you're incapable of. Thing is, he's wrong. People listen to those they trust, and it's hard to do that with someone who only values themselves and the power they acquire.

But that doesn't fit his narrative. So of course, he'll refuse to recognize that.

"Well, I've got a cape and lasers." He brags, and the people around him chuckle. "With our technology and with EDITH, Mysterio will be the greatest hero on Earth! Then everyone will listen. Not to a boozy man-child. Not to a hormonal teenager. To me—and to my very wealthy crew. To us!"

I lean against a wall as the anger, bitterness, and hatred press against my skin like a pressure cooker. The edges of the world darken. All I can think is two words over and over, 'Destroy them. Destroy them.' If they want to ruin my life, let's see how they feel when it's them instead.

My hands go numb as I branch out with my shadows, searching relentlessly for any signs of Beck or his crew. It's draining, but I can't bring myself to care. Not right now. All I can think about is the damage being done with every second that goes to waste without finding and stopping them. Beck's speech is proof that they'll stop at nothing to get their way. He's like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum––anything that happens to get his way is nothing more than collateral damage.

All I know for sure is no matter what it takes. Even if it kills me, I'm going to ruin them to the point where everyone will think twice before crossing me or those I love ever again.