Joren gave Matt a firm pat on the shoulder and stepped past him without another word.
He stopped directly in front of the woman—unstable, unpredictable, and radiating dangerous charisma.
"I don't care about your love triangle," he said flatly. "I just need to ask you one thing."
Mary tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement, as if expecting a desperate plea.
"What happens to the ordinary people you've taken control of?"
"Oh?" A slow, crimson smile spread across her lips. "You actually care about those ants?"
She leaned forward slightly, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
"Don't worry. They're just asleep. My mind control doesn't last more than a few hours without reinforcement. When they wake up, they'll think it was all a nightmare—no memories, no trauma."
She paused, tongue flicking over her bright red lips.
"But… if you try to resist…" Her smile turned predatory. "I might change my mind. Maybe I'll have them leap off this building—one by one. Give you a grand, bloody funeral. Poetic, isn't it? Almost artistic."
Joren nodded once.
"I understand."
"Which means," Mary added, voice dropping to a whisper, "all this trouble ends the moment you shut up."
The last syllable hadn't even left her mouth when Star Platinum materialized behind her.
Fast.
Too fast.
Mary's pupils snapped tight. A wave of pure killing intent locked onto her spine like ice down her back.
She felt it—an unnatural presence, humanoid but utterly alien—appearing out of nowhere. Instinct screamed at her to turn, to seize control, to bend that creature to her will before it struck.
But she was already too late.
Star Platinum's fist was already rising—coiled, precise, inevitable.
"Wait! No!" Matt shouted, lunging forward. He couldn't let this happen. Not like this. No matter how far she'd fallen, no matter how twisted she'd become—she was still Mary. The woman who'd wept in his arms. The one he'd sworn to protect.
He threw himself toward her, desperation overriding reason.
But Joren had expected it.
The moment Matt moved, Joren's left leg swept out—silent, surgical, perfectly timed.
Bang!
Daredevil hit the concrete face-first, the impact echoing through the rooftop. His nose throbbed; pain flared white-hot behind his eyes.
"Ugh—!"
Before he could even process the fall, a guttural cry split the air:
"Ora!"
It was a sound Mary had never heard before—raw, primal, vibrating in her skull like thunder.
And then the fist came.
To her, it swelled like a meteor—huge, unstoppable, filling her vision.
BOOM—!!!
Typhoid Mary didn't even have time to scream.
Star Platinum's strike landed with devastating precision. The controlled burst sent concussive ripples through her skull—not enough to kill, but more than enough to shut her down. It mimicked a severe concussion: disorienting, debilitating, brutally efficient.
Silence followed—broken only by Matt scrambling to his feet.
"Mary!" He rushed to her side, cradling her limp form in his arms. His hands trembled as he pressed fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse.
She was breathing.
Her heartbeat was steady.
Alive.
For now.
She was completely unconscious.
"What did you do to her?!" Matt demanded, voice raw with fury.
"Just gave her some peace and quiet," Joren replied calmly.
"You…" Matt trembled—not just from anger, but from the unbearable tension between reason and emotion.
Logic told him Joren had shown mercy. But his heart refused to accept it.
"You don't understand!" Matt's voice cracked, hoarse with pain. "You don't know what she's been through! You don't know how much she's suffering!"
"I know."
The quiet certainty in Joren's answer stunned him into silence.
"She is in pain," Joren continued, stepping closer and glancing down at the woman cradled in Matt's arms. "And yes—she's pitiful. But that doesn't excuse her hurting others. It certainly doesn't justify threatening the lives of hundreds of innocent people."
He paused, voice hardening. "There's always a reason someone becomes pitiful—I've always believed that. But Mary chose to avenge Kingpin. She chose to make herself my enemy. And choices have consequences."
Matt opened his mouth—but no words came out.
Yes…
Mary was a victim.
But weren't the ordinary people she'd mentally enslaved victims too?
What had they done to deserve that?
He'd been so consumed by her suffering that he'd ignored the new pain she was creating.
"What do you plan to do?" Joren asked. "Send her to a mental hospital? Hand her over to the police?"
"No…" Matt shook his head instinctively. "A hospital or a prison can't hold her. Now that her powers are exposed, S.H.I.E.L.D. will lock her away as a test subject."
"Then what?" Joren pressed. "Keep hiding her? Wait for her next breakdown—until she hurts even more people?"
Matt fell silent.
He realized he was trapped in a cycle with no clean exit.
Joren sighed.
Trouble. These two radiated it like static.
He pulled a smooth stone from his pocket—the communication stone left to him by the Inhuman princess, Crystal. A soft halo of light pulsed from its surface.
On the other end, Crystal was deep in a secret Inhuman base, coordinating a global search for "a woman who can control animals," when the stone vibrated against her belt. She ducked into a quiet corner and retrieved it.
"Hello?"
An impatient voice crackled through. "It's me."
"We've got some leads on the woman you're looking for, but—"
"Don't bother."
"Huh?"
"That troublemaker is already in my hands." Joren glanced at Mary, limp in Matt's arms. "She's mentally unstable. Her ability isn't animal control—it's telepathy. Mind control, specifically. And she has four distinct personalities."
That sounds exactly like a Terrigen-mutation side effect.
Could she be another stray Inhuman?
"Is she one of yours?" Joren asked bluntly.
"I… I'm not sure," Crystal admitted cautiously. "But her abilities match known patterns in newly activated Inhumans. I'd need to examine her—or at least get a genetic sample—to confirm."
"Good." Joren nodded. He'd just found the perfect solution. "I'll send you an address. Bring your dog and take her off my hands. Whether she lives or dies, gets cured or ends up dissected in a lab—that's your problem now."
He ended the call before she could respond.
Turning back to Matt—who stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief—Joren spoke evenly:
"I've found her a place. Secluded. Technologically advanced. They specialize in handling superpowered individuals who've gone off the rails. They'll help her."
Matt stared at him, numb. "I can't just hand her over…"
"Then handle it yourself," Joren said, voice dropping to something colder, sharper. "Or I'll eliminate her right now—and spare everyone future grief."
Matt knew he wasn't bluffing.
And worse—he knew he couldn't stop him.
Just then—
A faint groan escaped Mary's lips.
Her eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened.
Gone was the madness. Gone was the resentment. Even the gentle warmth of her original self had vanished.
Her eyes were empty—blank as a newborn's, unmarked by memory or malice.
She looked up at the red-clad man holding her… and tilted her head.
"Uncle…?" she whispered, voice small and timid, like a child of five or six. "Who are you? Where am
I?"
Joren raised an eyebrow.
Oh dear.
Amnesia?
Had Star Platinum's punch hit that hard—erasing the personality that held her memories?
Now this was interesting.
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