A week had passed since Kai had met the kid with cracked glasses and a bruised lip—the boy who would one day be called Spider-Man.
Since then, the city had started to recognize a different local figure. Not someone flying in an iron suit, not someone making headlines or holding press conferences.
Just a guy with a delivery bag, a fast pair of legs, and the occasional witty remark.
Whenever he dropped off a pizza with a grin and a quick wave, people began calling him the same thing.
"Hey, it's the friendly neighborhood delivery boy!"
Kai never asked for the nickname, but he liked it. It was… low-key. Humble. Not heroic in a flashy, world-saving way—but kind. Reliable. The kind of title people gave you when you kept showing up.
When he wasn't working or eating cheap bodega noodles, he kept his ear to the ground. Headlines and TV broadcasts rolled through every store he passed, and lately, they were all saying the same thing.
> "Big green monster on the run. Military tight-lipped. Multiple cities affected."
"Witnesses describe the creature as over ten feet tall, enraged, unstoppable."
"General Ross vows to contain the threat—'We will neutralize the Hulk.'"
Kai paused at a storefront one morning, watching shaky phone footage of the green behemoth tearing through a tank in the New Mexico desert.
That's not a monster, he thought, that's Bruce Banner.
He didn't need the Omnitrix to recognize the early signs of The Hulk. He'd watched enough of this universe play out in another reality to know how dangerous things were about to get.
Still, he stayed under the radar. The last thing he wanted was the military catching wind of an alien-wearing teenager with unknown powers. Especially when they couldn't even contain one gamma-powered scientist.
For now, Kai focused on delivering pizzas, surviving the city, and keeping an eye on Peter from afar.
But that night, the streets had different plans for him.
---
Brooklyn – 9:03 p.m.
The last delivery of the day was always the most peaceful.
The roads were quieter. The neon buzz of the city softened into the hum of tired engines and half-shuttered shops. Kai walked down the steps of an apartment building, slipping the empty thermal bag onto his back and stuffing the crumpled five-dollar tip into his hoodie.
He stretched, exhaling slowly.
"Done for the day," he mumbled. "Finally."
Just as he turned the corner, ready to head toward the train that would take him back to his rented room, a sharp sound sliced through the calm.
A scream.
Kai froze.
It came from a side street, somewhere between the alleys. A woman's voice—frantic, panicked, pleading.
"Let me go! Please!"
Footsteps followed. Heavy, fast. And then: laughter. Six distinct voices, male. Mocking. Confident.
Kai's jaw clenched.
He glanced toward the alley. Then at his watch.
You don't need to get involved, a voice in his head whispered. Cops will show up. Probably.
But deep down, he already knew what he was going to do.
He turned and walked quietly toward the alley entrance. As he reached the shadowed edge, he spotted them—six men, one of them with a knife, cornering a woman in a red coat near a dumpster. Her purse was on the ground, half-unzipped, its contents spilled.
Kai's voice was low, tired, and just a little amused.
"Man. I really thought I'd get through one night without this."
He stepped back into the shadows, fingers already flipping open the Omnitrix faceplate. The familiar green glow lit the brick wall for just a moment as he scrolled through his alien forms.
Ghostfreak. Time to haunt.
He slammed the core down.
A pulse of emerald light flashed—and his body twisted. Skin paled, becoming translucent. His lower half stretched into a misty wisp. The red eye on his chest snapped open.
Ghostfreak emerged with a low, bone-deep hiss.
He glided into the alley like smoke.
"Hey, boys," he whispered, voice echoing unnaturally. "Wanna see something really scary?"
The nearest thug turned.
"What the—?"
The eye flashed red.
In seconds, all six men were screaming. Kai phased through one of them, causing the man to shriek and drop his knife. Another tried to run but slipped in a puddle of his own panic.
One guy swung a metal pipe—Ghostfreak caught it mid-swing, his clawed hand passing through the weapon like fog. He leaned in close, his face inches from the man's.
"Boo," he said.
The man fainted.
Kai chuckled to himself.
With one final burst of spectral howling, the rest of the group scrambled out of the alley like terrified rats, knocking over trash cans and shouting nonsense about "demon ghosts" and "haunted freaks."
The woman stood frozen, wide-eyed.
Ghostfreak turned to her, hovering just off the ground.
Her lips trembled. "W… what are you?"
Kai softened his tone. "Safe now."
She stared at him a moment longer, then slowly picked up her purse. She clutched it to her chest and backed toward the alley's exit.
Before she left, she looked over her shoulder.
"Thank you," she said softly, into the night air. "Whatever you are."
And then she was gone.
Kai waited a few more seconds, ensuring she'd truly gotten away. Then he pressed the Omnitrix symbol on his chest, letting the green light return him to his human form.
The hoodie reappeared. The claws, the fog, the alien voice—gone.
Only Kai remained.
He exhaled deeply, rolling his neck as if the transformation had left a weight in his shoulders.
"Can't ignore it anymore," he muttered. "No matter how small."
---
Brooklyn – Rented Room – 10:21 p.m.
Kai let himself into the apartment quietly, locking the door behind him.
The space was small—just a mattress on the floor, a folding table with two mismatched chairs, and a cheap lamp with a flickering bulb. But it was his. Paid for honestly, mostly. And private enough for alien tech.
He dropped the pizza bag by the door and flopped onto the mattress, groaning as he pulled off his shoes.
The city buzzed outside. Somewhere, a train rattled. Sirens passed in the distance. But inside, it was quiet.
Kai stared at the ceiling.
He thought about the woman in the alley. About Peter Parker's bruised lip. About Bruce Banner, hunted by his own country.
The Omnitrix pulsed faintly on his wrist.
"Friendly neighborhood delivery boy," he muttered with a smirk. "Yeah… sure."
His eyes drifted shut.
He didn't dream that night.
But he felt something settling inside him. A purpose—not loud, not world-shaking. Just steady. Like a heartbeat in the dark.
One delivery. One save. One night at a time.