Chương 42: Costume

A week passed quickly as Mason and his team systematically dismantled Fisk's criminal empire in New York. They went at it rough and hard, attacking all of his ventures they could find. They already had a large bunch thanks to the construction site, and they only got more as they gathered evidence on the Kingpin. After a whole week of work, and with Mason being particularly dedicated since he had the most time out of everyone, nearly all of his major operations had been disrupted.

Some had been peaceful, like that steel factory where all Mason had to do was release the information he had gotten for the police to take things into their own hands, and others posed a little more resistance. Mason expected his current target to be one such case. They were a large bike club that was relatively important to Fisk's drug trade. He would have gone for a more important location, but he had already destroyed all of those. Mason's white haori flowed with the morning wind as he approached the club.

He had never been the greatest fan of costumes, especially superhero spandex ones. They looked great on some, but he felt he would look ridiculous in them. However, Mason had finally found something he liked. He was inspired while re-reading Izo's notebook. The day he reached the realm beyond Awakening, he would earn himself the title of Honored One. And as it just so happened, Satoru Gojo had one outfit he used to love. The one from the Shinjuku Showdown.

So, Mason had decided to appropriate it for himself, since it suited him much more. With the help of his billionaire friend, Danny Rand, he had customized the outfit and made several copies of it. He wore the full thing too, with not only the white baggy training pants and tight-fitting black shirt taken from Toji, but also the white haori on top, which was a type of robe. That was the most expensive part of the outfit, but the difference was meaningless to a billionaire.

The pants were secured by a black belt, and he wore black martial arts slippers to finish the look. It changed Mason's whole demeanor. The fact that he always dressed himself in civilian clothes kept him grounded in the mundane world, which only made it all the more jarring when he punched someone through a wall. It was a strange thing, but it was so much weirder to see someone dressed in regular clothes perform a superhuman feat than it was when they were dressed accordingly.

And, again, the fit was just diabolical. Mason still felt he retained his identity too, as while the outfit was originally Toji's, and later Gojo's, he looked distinctly different from the two. His build was very similar to Toji by this point, but while the Sorcerer Killer had a sharp face marred with a scar, Mason's features leaned somewhat more towards the aristocratic.

It did not reach Gojo's level, and on a broad spectrum, Mason would consider himself closer in features to Toji's extreme than Gojo's, but that also had to do with their precise features. Not only was Gojo handsome, but he also had peculiar hair and eyes, which made him stand out. In comparison, Mason was more mundane with his deep grey eyes and brown hair. Although his powerful soul helped him stand out, pulling people in, it was a subtle and limited effect.

He still considered himself handsome, but he was held back by his age, being only 18 physically. His soul had helped mature his body to its prime faster, but he was still young. Walking like he was one with the world, Mason got to the entrance, and his expression soured as he felt a familiar presence inside. Someone had come before him. As Mason closed in, a big, beefy man was sent flying through a window, landing harshly outside.

To his credit, he tried to get up and go back in when he noticed the additional presence beside him. His face paled as he looked up at Mason and recognized him. Mason looked down at him with a cold gaze. The biker slowly lowered himself, then lay on his side, facing away from Mason. Tearing his gaze away from the terrified man, Mason stepped into the club, right as the fighting came to its natural end.

Holding two bikers, both larger than him, by the scruff of their collars like they were a pair of misbehaving kittens, Spider-Man sent them flying against a wall. Spider-Man looked different from before. More experience. The patchwork, amateur suit stitched up by a kid looked slightly more professional. It looked like the kid had gotten himself a tailor. Mason walked amidst the groaning bikers, and Spider-Man turned to look at him excitedly, the lenses of his mask widening dramatically as he exclaimed, "Solis!

I got this place handled." Mason kept a visage of stone, warning, "I thought I had made myself clear. I don't want you here." Spider-Man quipped, "Good thing you're no boss of me then." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Mason stared at the Super Hero, whom he knew to be a 14-year-old kid the age of his little sister, but Spider-Man only stared back, his still mask a vision of stubbornness.

Eventually, Mason's expression broke as he sighed, "It's not that I'm doubting you, Spider-Man. It's just… unnecessary. This doesn't concern you."

"Because they are not hunting me down directly doesn't mean it doesn't affect me. Besides, I'm an expert in getting involved in things that don't concern me." Mason exhaled again and looked around the place, doing his best to ignore the fact that he had led a kid into a conflict with Kingpin as he asked, "Found anything interesting?" Spider-Man chuckled lightly, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I intended to go in all stealthy, spider vibes and all, but they saw me. But we can look together!"

"This isn't a game, Spider-Man."

"O-of course not! This way." Mason followed him to the back of the bar, where they found what they were looking for. The bikers were not keeping any of their stash inside the club; it was far too small, and they were more of an intermediary than anything, but they did find some useful information. By itself, it was not much, but with everything Mason and his team had gathered, they were building a solid case. Having a lawyer with them, even though Daredevil never admitted it directly, helped them tremendously.

Once they were finished and outside, Peter leapt atop a wall, his grin evident in his voice.

"You better not forget about me when you finally take down that guy! Technically, I started fighting him first!"

"And how would I tell you?" Peter paused, suddenly feeling awkward, and Mason rolled his eyes. Teasing a kid didn't feel as fun.

"Don't worry about it, we'll only attack once we get a warrant for his arrest. Or at least, until we've gathered enough evidence to put him behind bars once we take him down. Either way, it'll make a splash. A big one." Spider-Man chuckled, "Sounds like fun. Hopefully I won't have sch-" he stopped, and I ignored him, leaving him the illusion of anonymity. There was not much of a point in revealing he knew his secret identity, which was why he had not said anything to Daredevil either.

Spider-Man was about to leap away when he remembered something, and said, "Oh, by the way, Invisible Girl asked me about you. The Fantastic Four hope you are okay, and wanted you to know they were there for you, if need be." Mason looked at him with surprise.

"Did she now? You know the Fantastic Four?"

"Yeah, there was that guy who pretended to be me; it was a whole thing. They're nice people. We ended up talking about you. In a good way, of course."

"I see. I would pop in for a visit, but I am a wanted man at the moment. Wouldn't want to cause them any problems by being seen around them. Same reason why I'm reluctant to have you participate, by the way. You've been giving Jameson fuel by helping me." Spider-Man snorted, "You read that? I heard about the article he wrote about me; you'd think the man hates me. You don't think he would write another, do you?" Mason smiled and said nothing.

Spider-Man was only in his beginnings, and remained relatively unknown to the public. He was barely starting to make a name for himself in the recent week, and J. Jonah Jameson, the Daily Bugle's owner and editor-in-chief, had written his first article about the 'Masked Menace'. With Spider-Man swinging away, Mason had nothing else left to do but to return to his base. They had already gotten most of Fisk's operations in the city, so while there were some left, Mason had only expected to do the one that day.

Honestly, most of the work that was left was to organize everything they had gotten and use it to build that case. That biker club was more of a freebie that only served to further weaken Fisk. Even their stashes, which he and Spider-Man had found the locations of, had been reported to the police. So Mason returned to his secret base, which he had established in the past week. It sounded fancier than it was, because in reality it was just a relatively hidden spot in one of the factories they had stormed.

Returning was just fine to Mason too, as he had wanted to give himself some more time to meditate, as he could feel his third awakening was close. The rift in his Spirit had closed down enough that it no longer impacted Mason, with only a thin chip now. He expected it to finish healing any day now, and with it, he would reach the peak. But at the same time, he had initially thought the wound would heal in a few days, but he had underestimated the rate at which the healing slowed as it neared completion.

It was a perplexing matter, as the closer his Spirit was to being fully healed, the slower its healing speed got. It was counter-intuitive, at least to Mason. Mason's busy schedule also had a part in his 'slow' healing, as he had been active pretty much non-stop for the past week. Some meditation could only help now. Unfortunately, the world was seemingly conspiring to never give him a break as he felt three presences inside his base.

They did not feel particularly threatening, with one at the peak of the Body Refinement Realm, and the other two at about Lady Bullseye level, but Mason did not know them. Divine Sense was a good tool to judge martial artists and physical supers, but it did not account well for mutants and the like, so the three inside might be able to endanger him. Still, Mason did not feel like they were laying an ambush for him, but were instead waiting. That intrigued him.

So, Mason decided to walk in to see who had come for him with his own eyes. There, in the dark of his secret base, a man sat on Mason's sofa as if he owned it. He was dressed in a long trench coat that hid a complex uniform beneath, with a thick bulletproof vest and a whole array of gadgets attached. But Mason did not need any of those to recognize the man. The eye-patch was a distinctive enough attribute for the director of SHIELD.

In any other situation, Mason would have struggled to tear his gaze away from him, but in this particular instance, it was one of the two flanking Fury that intrigued him. One was a stunning, blonde female agent, with a couple of battle staves at her hips. She was beautiful, and probably good enough to take on Lady Bullseye, but irrelevant to the room. Mason's gaze was fixed on the other. On the stars and stripes.

Author's Note: We've officially caught up with the other websites, so the updates will slow down to one chapter a day.