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Inside the hospital, the red light above the ER finally went dark.
A thin, sharp-eyed young doctor stepped out.
"How's he doing, Doc?"
Erik and Stark rushed forward at once.
Strange pulled off his mask, his face weary but calm."Relax, gentlemen. He's out of danger. From here on, it's up to him."
Stark let out a long sigh of relief."Thanks, Doc. You just saved my partner. From now on, you've got a permanent seat at Stark Industries' table."
"Much appreciated, Mr. Stark. But I just finished a brutal operation—I'll need some rest."
Even for Strange, the surgery had been hellishly difficult. But at least it ended well.
"Of course, Doctor."
Not long after he left, orderlies pushed Dan out on a bed, a tangle of wires and tubes keeping him alive as they transferred him to the ICU.
Erik's chest clenched at the sight. Guilt flooded his eyes."Damn it… this is all my fault."
He slammed a fist against his chest and slid down against the wall, crouching with his head low.
"Hey, man. This isn't on you—you did what you could," Stark said, clapping his shoulder.
"No. You don't get it. This is on me. If I hadn't frozen up… if I hadn't held back because I was scared—everyone could've been saved!"
Erik buried his head in his hands, drowning in guilt. He blamed himself for everything: for hesitating, for being too afraid of losing control and becoming a monster again. His fear had kept him from returning to the orphanage at the crucial moment—and because of that, everyone had suffered.
If he'd just embraced the power back then… if he'd just gone back in time to help… maybe Dan wouldn't have had to risk his life at all.
But he had been afraid. Afraid of himself. Afraid of the monster inside.
Watching Erik spiral, Stark frowned."Come on, man. Let's just go see him. He's cleared the first hurdle—that's something."
Together they stepped into the ICU. The sight of Dan's pale, frail body crushed the air out of the room.
"Don't worry," the doctor told them. "His vitals are stable. He's not in immediate danger anymore."
Erik's expression shifted. Something had clicked in him. Without another word, he turned and walked out.
"Erik, where are you going?" Stark called.
"I just… need some air."
Stark didn't stop him. He knew Erik wasn't the type to do anything reckless.
On the hospital roof, Erik stared out over the city lights.
"How is he?"
The voice made him turn. A man stood behind him—bandaged, with his arm in a cast.
Frank.
That night, Vlad had nearly killed him, but by some miracle he'd survived. Stark had brought him to the same hospital.
"The doctors say he's stable now."
Frank walked to the edge, standing shoulder to shoulder with Erik, gazing into the distance. His own thoughts were heavy.
The Punisher—self-styled judge and executioner, sworn to purge New York's rot—had never felt so powerless as when he stared true darkness in the face.
And then Erik had told him about Dan. About everything the kid had done. Frank could hardly believe it. A teenager had managed that much? It was insane.
He'd dragged his broken body just to see the boy once. But when he saw Dan's familiar face… he froze.
It's him?!
The thought had slammed through his skull.
The boy who once helped him in that rainy alley.The "big brother" Orange kept talking about.The prodigy violinist from the newspapers.
Frank had thought they'd parted for good back at the garage. But fate had tied their paths together once more.
"Got a smoke?" Frank finally asked.
"This is a hospital, you're still a patient—you can't smoke," Erik said, even as he lit one for himself.
Frank snatched it from his hand with a scowl, lit it up, and exhaled a ring of smoke.
"So. What's your plan now?"
Erik looked out again, his voice low but steady."I'm gonna give this city a purge. Before he wakes up, I'll wipe out as much of the filth as I can."
Frank nodded slowly."Need a partner?"
"You're half-dead already. Don't push it."
Frank smirked around his cigarette and started tearing off his cast and bandages."I'm Frank Castle. The Punisher doesn't sit out."
At Stark Industries, the workshop echoed with hammering and clattering metal.
Wearing custom goggles, Stark pounded away at broken armor pieces. Each strike carried the image of Dan's body lying in the rubble, burned into his mind. His blows came harder, sharper.
He used to think Stark Industries' weapons were enough. But after working with Dan, he realized—the world was way messier than he'd ever imagined.
"Tony?"
Pepper's voice came from the doorway. She stepped in, frowning at the scattered shards of armor. She still didn't get why he obsessed over this.
"There's something in Afghanistan. A deal with the military—you'll need to go," she said.
"A military deal? You mean the Jericho missile contract? Can't somebody else handle it?"
She shook her head."They said no. It's a new weapon deal—you have to be there. And Stane warned if you don't go, Stark Industries' stock will take a huge hit."
Tony set his tools down, brows knit tight."Can we push it back? At least until he wakes up?"
"He? You mean Dan?"
Of course Pepper knew the name. Tony mentioned him constantly, and the kid had already made waves at the charity gala. She just didn't understand—how deep did this connection really go?
Honestly, Tony didn't know either. Partner? Friend? Something else?
All he knew was this: in Dan, he saw traits that mirrored his own. And that was enough to make him want to help.
Pepper sighed at his stubborn look."Alright. I'll tell them."
"....."