11 What are the Odds?

Powered by Spider-Woman-themed pizza, the friends dive back into their chaotic project. Luke, who was usually a master of uninterested silence, suddenly bursts into life. His involvement takes the form of a flurry of questions, ranging from surprisingly sharp to hilariously absurd.

"Okay, I'm trying here," he begins, forehead crinkled in concentration as he wrestles with the intricacies of Gwen's detailed project plan. "So, what's our hypothesis?"

"We haven't even started field observations, Luke," Gwen counters, her tone a mix of patience and annoyance. "First, we need to actually observe Central Park. Then, we can build our hypothesis based on our findings."

Luke responds with an amused smirk, lifting his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Fine, fine. But just picture this...we sneak into the park under the cover of darkness, abscond with all the squirrels, and then voilà! We're studying the sudden, unexplained squirrel shortage!" His ridiculous proposal triggers a wave of laughter throughout the room, transforming their intense planning session into a light-hearted brainstorm.

Much to her surprise, Gwen finds herself smiling at his absurdity. His overt nonchalance, which used to annoy her, now seems somewhat endearing. His unexpected support for Spider-Woman earlier had begun the thawing process.

Seeing their opportunity in the comedic twist, Max and Olivia chime in with their own outrageous suggestions. Amidst peals of laughter, Olivia proposes the concept of 'Squirrel Diplomacy,' while Max counters with a 'Duck Manifesto.' The room explodes in another fit of laughter, further blurring the line between work and play.

As they return to their brainstorming, Gwen's notepad becomes a chaotic landscape of scribbles, doodles, and the sparks of emerging ideas. The once rowdy room, filled with playful banter, now hums with the buzz of intense brainstorming.

When Gwen finally calls for a break, they are all surprised to see the star-speckled night sky outside. Nightfall had sneaked in unnoticed. Max and Luke exchange a glance that silently communicates, 'Job well done!'

As they pack up to leave, Max throws Luke a playful look. "You know, you should've partnered with me, bro. We'd have spent the day crushing it on Call of Duty," he grins, his eyes gleaming with mock seriousness.

"Trust me, if I'd known I'd be stuck doing park projects all day, I would've told Mr. Jackson to stuff it and partnered with you," Luke retorts, his voice a blend of faux despair and real exhaustion. This triggers another round of laughter, interrupted only when Gwen playfully tosses a pencil at Luke's head and sticks her tongue out at him.

With plans to reconvene for another surprisingly enjoyable and productive project planning session, they bid each other goodnight and step out into the cool night. The night air greets them like a soothing mist, wrapping around them as they hail a passing taxi. As they slide into the back seat, the taxi's engine hums to life, its city lights dancing on the car's shiny surface.

The taxi winds its way through the labyrinth of city streets, the drone of traffic and distant laughter seeping into the night, enveloping them in a familiar urban soundscape. With a victorious smirk, Max nudges Luke, "Didn't think you were such a big Spider-Woman fan, man," he teases, delight evident in his voice.

Caught off guard, Luke stumbles over a response, "No, it's not... I just, I mean, she's cool, that's all." His earlier casual dismissal of Spider-Woman has evolved into a touch of embarrassment.

Max howls with laughter, patting Luke on the back. "Sure thing, buddy. Your secret's safe with me."

Their taxi journey concludes quickly, each bidding the other goodnight before parting ways to their respective homes. As the night deepens, in two very different corners of the city, both Luke and Gwen change into their less ordinary outfits.

Later in the night, still chuckling from the evening's farewells, Luke winds his way through the city's heart. As darkness descends and the bustling city begins to hush, he blends into the shadows. Emerging from the darkness beneath a towering oak tree is Nightling, his black attire shimmering with an ethereal moonlit glow.

Nightling surveys the park around him with glowing white eyes that stand out like twin stars against his black clothing. He grins beneath his mask as he takes in the landscape of towering trees, random picnic benches, and a pond reflecting the star-studded sky.

"Well, here we are, Central Park... or as it will soon be known, the epicenter of the Squirrel Vanishing Act," he murmurs to himself, amusement echoing in his voice. He chuckles, the sound lost to the night, before hardening his resolve and focusing on his unique mission.

His senses sharpen, ears attuned to the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional snap of twigs, and the nearly silent pitter-patter of squirrel paws on hard soil. With a playful, almost mischievous air, he says to himself, "Alright, squirrels, this is just a friendly game. I promise, I come in peace... Well, sort of."

Looking down at his shadowy attire, he chuckles again, "But who can blame you for choosing to hide, right?" His voice dances through the night, a soft whisper amidst the quiet hum of nature's nocturnal symphony.

With every step Nightling takes deeper into the park, he blends further into the shadows, his figure merging seamlessly with the inky darkness. The mission may be odd, but Nightling finds himself surprisingly invested. Though it doesn't compare to battling Spider-Woman, the reaction Gwen should have when she discovers his joke was actually feasible will be worth it.

Nightling's foray into squirrel relocation unfolds as the night deepens. Every squirrel he scoops up is given a whispered apology and a promise. "Sorry, buddy, this is just for... well, let's call it advanced education. Sort of." His voice carries a hint of embarrassed amusement, echoing softly in the quiet park.

As he engrosses himself in his task, he fills the otherwise silent night with his murmurs. To himself, to the squirrels, even to the moon above, he talks, transforming the dark, tranquil park into his personal, whimsical stage. The absurdity of the situation only adds to its charm, and Nightling finds himself delighting in the role of Central Park's unofficial squirrel whisperer.

However, his mischievous night of squirrel antics comes to an abrupt halt when a figure strides into his field of vision. Illuminated in the diffused glow of a nearby streetlamp stands an unmistakable silhouette of a police officer. The stern official uniform, the badge ominously glinting on his chest in the lamplight, triggers a sensation in him. It's not fear, exactly, but an adrenaline rush that courses through his veins, making his heart pound.

Being caught, a reality he, as a villain, should fear, doesn't frighten him. On the contrary, it stirs a thrill deep within him, a thrill that is both primal and fundamental. The adrenaline rush, an addiction he can't shake, becomes his lifeblood. It's not merely the danger or unpredictability he's addicted to, but the potential confrontation with Spider-Woman.

The thought of clashing with her, his heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of their fight, is intoxicating. Every heated exchange, every near escape, sets his blood afire. The thrill of her pursuit, the dizzying high of their combat is the peak of his existence. In her absence, life would lose its edge, the world would fade into mundane greyness.

As if possessed by the thrill, his feet lead him closer to the officer, the excitement in his chest growing stronger with each step. The proximity to danger acts as a potent stimulant, increasing his adrenaline levels, magnifying the already buzzing excitement.

Suddenly, he's standing mere feet away from the officer, the world shrinking around them, distilling down to this singular moment of tension. They are locked in a silent face-off, two figures outlined in the murky park light, their gazes clashing in an unspoken duel.

Beneath his dark attire and mask, his thrill remains hidden. But the officer's face, washed in the dim glow of the cruiser's lights, is an open book of surprise and apprehension.

"Why, officer," Nightling greets, adopting his Nightling persona's deeper, more enigmatic voice, "Isn't it a bit late for a patrol?"

As the words leave his mouth, he is jolted by recognition. This isn't just any officer. This is Officer George, the very same man who had given him a ride earlier in the day. The same man who happens to be Gwen's dad.

"Ah, perfection," Nightling murmurs to himself, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. The absurdity of the situation twirls in his mind, an ironic dance that sets his heart to an amused rhythm. Here he is, a villain, standing a breath away from a police officer he recognizes, while the officer remains oblivious to the fact that beneath the mask, he's an ordinary young man known to him. The irony is almost too delightful to bear.

The night, initially filled with squirrel shenanigans and explorations of Central Park, takes an unforeseen turn. A face so familiar, yet oblivious of the concealed identity beneath the shadowy attire and glowing eyes, stands before him. His identity remains secure in the mystery of Nightling.

Yet, he stands on a precipice, his heart pounding with anticipation. However, the excitement isn't born from a fear of being unmasked — his identity is secure — but from an internal conflict that gnaws at him. A war rages within him, a fight between his insatiable thirst for adrenaline and the moral pull to ensure his friend's father remains safe.

As the moment stretches, Nightling finds himself weighing the exhilaration of potential danger against concern for the man before him. He's caught in a whirlwind of adrenaline, the addictive thrill that accompanies his life as a villain, but he also bears the quiet yet persistent pull of his own conscience.