The Insanity of Spider-Man

by JustmeSpidey

Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, is an Avenger. How cool is that? Unfortunately, saving NYC from a well-orchestrated evil didn't come without cost. Spider-Man has infuriated vengeful foes in high places, and with his teammates busy with their own missions, Peter is kind of on his own. New rivals, new allies, and new troubles await the teenage hero. Wowza: this is going to be insane.

22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Just keep swimming~

K so if you're wondering why this took so long, LOOK AT THE AGJFDRBHK WORD COUNT. IT'S 20K ALRIGHT THIS IS THE LONGEST THING EVER LITERALLY WHY DIDN'T I SPLIT THIS UP IDK I'M AN IDIOT :D

SO while I was killing myself writing this, I have A.) graduated high school (freedom! yay!) B.) gone to dallas con in a Spidey costume (yay!) C.) gone to orientation/line camp at Baylor (we jumped in fountains and dropped watermelons off of parking garages! and I'm studying as a film and digital media major! yay!) and D.) fangirled the FRACK out over the cast list and set pics from Spidey Hoco (OMG PICS OF TOM IN THE SPIDER SUIT JUST GOT RELEASED AND I AM SCREAFGMNING HE IS PERFECTION YAY!)

Oh and if it wasn't obvious I'll be continuing this story because you all attacked me with love and kindness and it was too much for my heart to handle :3 so yes thank you all so much ya'll are the best I don't say that enough. Your support and encouragement is honestly what made me so excited to write this chapter and is why I put so much detail in that it resulted in the monster before you. It's crazy, unorganized, all over the place, and just wow, but also kinda sorta awesome maybe idk. I highly recommend NOT reading it in one sitting, your butt will be numb, but hey, you do you ;) Read away!

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Chapter 22

Patience. All good things to those who wait.

Peter thought his uncle had told him something like that when he was younger, but at the moment he couldn't quite remember where exactly he had first learned the phrase. Nonetheless, he felt it was appropriate advice to follow, and decided for now it was best for him to just push all of his fear and worry over the Sinister Six aside, at least until after the Avengers had completed their rescue mission at the Hydra facility. He was making himself and everyone around him incessantly paranoid, and now more than ever he felt he could use a break.

Maybe he should take Gwen on that movie date. It would make her so happy. He pictured her beautiful face blooming with joy if he just showed up at her apartment out of the blue, popcorn and candy in hand, and his skin flushed with warmth. He tried to remember the last time the two of them had just, like, hung out, like normal people, for more than five minutes, and not while he was injured. It felt like it had been ages.

Or how about Aunt May? Their relationship more than any other had been pretty rocky lately. Perhaps he could take her to a museum, or a play, or—hell, just a walk around central park. She was alone far too often. He wished Uncle Ben was here, if only to keep her company while he was so busy as Spider-Man. He hadn't been there for her much at all recently. Maybe he could help her with that cookbook she'd been working on. Any quality time would do, really—as long as he dedicated it solely to her.

He swung above the city, scanning for a shop to stop at, silent as a hawk.

But why should we even bother? They will never be satisfied. They will never stop wanting more from us. They will keep trying to take us away from being Spider-Man. Those two do nothing but weigh us down, make us weaker. Cutting them off entirely would make everything so, so much easier...

Peter crashed more than landed as his body collided with a lamppost, and he slipped a little before crawling gingerly to the top. His blood was cold with alarm.

W-what? How could I...why would I ever think that? That's not true. No. Absolutely not. None of it. I love Gwen and Aunt May more than anything. I need their support, their comfort, or I'd—I'd lose it. Why does this keep happening to me?

It was like his thoughts had been hijacked by another being, if only for any instant. Again. How could his mind conjure such terrible things? He perched atop the light for a moment, fighting to regather himself. The bulb beneath his feet flickered and buzzed like a drunken firefly. He kneaded at his temples with his thumb and forefinger, pursed his lips together, then shook his head. Well, clearly your assumptions were right, Parker. You're in desperate need for a brain break.

He exhaled levelly, dismissing the unsettling occurrence with a certain level of hesitance, then laid his hand against his side. Anyway, what time is it? Not too late to stop by Duane Reade for some Twizzlers I hope. Gwen will kill me if I buy the knock-off brand again. He retrieved his phone from the suit, clicked on the screen, and found that he had three missed calls, some text messages, and a voicemail, all from Steve. The latest was from about twenty minutes ago. He wondered why he hadn't felt or heard his phone ringing.

He listened to the message and read the texts. 'Heading down. Keep watch for us pls.'

So they had made their move, were probably rescuing the prisoners at this very instant. They'd likely be done by the time he showed up, but he could check the entrance on his way to the convenience store, make sure everything was going smoothly. After all, even on the most covert of missions, you never knew what crazy antics these Hydra freaks might pull out of their asses.

A line of webbing zipped from his wrist, and he leapt off the lamppost. He knew the sewage runoff was just up ahead, down the street and a quick righthand turn. In minutes, the dark, shimmering waters came into view, and he stuck to the bottom of an overpass. Taxis and trucks rumbled from up above and down below, and he watched the river toss and sway from his upside-down perspective. The entrance was somewhere nearby, probably hidden behind a curve of the landscape. He eyed a police car parked on the opposite side of the street with the lights off, which he assumed was owned by the policemen Cap trusted, and Peter sprung off the grainy concrete and swung across the road. His sticky fingers stuck to the building it sat perpendicular to, then he dropped on to the car's roof.

"Hey coppers, anybody home?" he inquired, reaching down and knocking on the driver's seat window. "It's me, Spidey. Are you the guys looking out for my Avenger friends? Seen anything suspicious yet?"

When there came no reply, Peter pressed his hand against the glass, and felt the door give a little beneath the pressure. Puzzled, he reached up and found he was able to curl his fingers around the edge. The door to the car was open. An uneasy feeling came over him, and he hopped to the ground, pushing the door all the way out. His eyes absorbed the scene, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was torn to shreds. The wheel, the scanners, the leather seats, all of it. It looked as if someone with a hack saw had just jumped in and went ballistic. Yet the damage was eerily streamline, and not unfamiliar. And with burning dread, he realized why: it resembled the markings on the walls of the old man's warehouse.

"Oh no," he whispered, jarred with a feeling of sudden sickliness. The dark stains outlining the gashes, marring the fabric, dripping on to the panels, and pooling around his feet now became apparent. They reflected the low light of the city in neon red. Peter stepped back slowly and realized the liquid trailed past his feet all the way to a corner at the end of the street, which was bordered by two concrete walls. A messy pile of garbage bags and litter lay scattered in the bend, along with two human-shaped silhouettes. Spider-Man crept closer, and found one to be a policewoman, sprawled flat along the ground, dressed in full uniform with her head split open and oozing across the pavement. The other was leaned limply against the back wall, which was dented with a bloody crater where his body had collided. His flesh was slashed and ripped all over, and meat was spilling from his busted skull. They looked as though they had been thrown like rag dolls by a great force, and left to rot in the filth of the city like trash.

"Oh no. No, no, no," he breathed, backing farther and farther from the car and the bodies. His eyes fell to the blood trail sprinkled along the pavement. "How could this...?"

An imprint, smeared right beneath his feet. A circle with three long triangles fanning out from the center, preserved in blood. No, not an imprint—a footprint. And it wasn't the only one. His gaze followed the line of ominous patterns as they faded off across the street, over the curving landscape. Right to the sewage run-off where he knew his friends would be.

All of his doubt and denial was gone, now replaced with terrible fear. Spider-Man sprinted over the road and leapt on to a squat building set parallel to the secret entrance. He crawled to the roof and crouched along the edge, heartbeat throbbing in his head. The large block of concrete sat below, perched at the bank of the river. And something else. The clunky, shadowy form of a man. Voices became audible.

"Just drop it already, for crying out loud!"

His ears pinpointed the sound, and his eyes discovered a group of people gathered in front of a semi-truck about half a football field's-length away, on the other side of the sewer's mouth. Their far-off silhouettes, like that of the one right beneath him, appeared bulky. The single figure below raised his hand sharply.

"Patience. They're almost in position."

Peter glanced between all the people in his line of sight. What's happening? What are they doing? It couldn't be anything good. What should he do? Frantic, he snatched his phone from his suit, switched it to walkie-talkie mode, and held it to his mouth.

"Cap! Natasha! Hello? Anybody? Answer me! Oh, Cap! There you are! Thank God."

Kid? Really? came the exasperated voice of Steve Rogers through the receiver. I told you just to text me. We're almost done down here. We're making one more loop around to find any stragglers, then heading back to the sewage exit. Go to the south entrance, if you're wondering where—

"No! Listen to me! You need to evacuate! Abort! Whatever you call it! Something!"

Huh? What's the matter?

"I—I'm not sure. But the Hydra—I mean, the Six, Doc Ock, they're here, at the sewage entrance. I don't know what they're doing, but I think they're—"

"It's time. Stand back, everyone."

With a few excited laughs, the men scrambled behind the truck. From the thick form standing just below him, the serpentine silhouette of a single tentacle rose up. There was something gripped in the fingers at the end. Peter could hear it beeping steadily.

"Hydra, the Avengers, and Wilson Fisk. You are all guilty of the same unforgivable sin: hoarding power you don't deserve for far too long. It is now our turn to be feared and respected, free of your interference and willing to use our power how it was meant to be used. I therefore condemn each of you to the same honorless fate. Drown in your shame and arrogance."

Peter's spidey sense exploded inside his skull, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. A—a bomb. It's a bomb. Oh God. He's going to bury them. The weight of what was about to happen struck him like a knife.

Peter? Are you still there? What's happening?

The man below clicked the device on with one of the prongs, and the beeping grew louder, faster. He held it above the hole.

"Get out of there! Now!" Dropping his phone, Spider-Man launched off the building. Two lines of webbing shot from his wrists and latched on to the dark figure. He drew the silk taut between both fists then rammed his feet square into the man's side. The impact sent pain zinging up Peter's legs, but also sent his victim flipping violently off the river bank and into the water with a screech of surprise. Spider-Man tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs, groaning regretfully, before he sprung to his feet. He whipped around to the Hydra facility's entrance, just in time to see the bomb bounce around the edges before dropping right into the hole.

"No!" he cried, bolting to the mouth of the tunnel and jamming his fingers against his palms. Strings of black webbing rocketed blindly from his wrists down the curving passage, trailing after the deadly device in vain as it clattered against the walls of the shaft. The beeping grew faster, faster, quieter, until he heard the weapon hit the bottom with a loud clang. In the moment of agonizing silence that followed, horror swallowed his heart.

I missed. I was too slow. What have I done? What do I do? Oh God, what have I—?

BOOM. The earth erupted beneath him. The whole world went red. It was tremendous, unimaginable, deafening. In an instant, his body was catapulted backwards in a fiery tidal wave, and it felt like decades before he finally reunited with the ground. Spider-Man crashed into the pavement and rolled far across the road, skin burning, ears ringing, bones quaking, head pounding. Sickening heat washed over him from every direction, and thick, flaming debris rained down on his crumpled form like hellfire. He was numb with shock, and dizzy with pain. Even as the chaos began to settle, the earth continued to roar. With a weak moan, Peter slowly pushed himself to his elbows. Half his body was bare, exposed, and striped with burns. The blast had ripped the symbiote almost completely off his skin. His bleary eyes gazed down at his arms, and he watched the black slime slowly spread back over his lacerated flesh. He felt it ooze over his chest and shoulders, and crawl up the back of his neck. It took almost two minutes before the dark organism finally enveloped his bloodshot eyes and dry lips, and the terror on his face was hidden behind the menacing mask once again.

Oh no, he thought with crippling dismay. Oh God.

Gingerly he pushed himself to his knees, then carefully climbed to his feet. A smoking, gaping crater was what remained of the secret entrance, and water was surging in from every possible angle. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The whole facility would be flooded in seconds.

Breathing raggedly, Peter stumbled around the rubble to the short building on the left, and found his phone under a charred lump of cement. With shivering fingers, he tapped dazedly at the shattered screen, trying to get an answer from the other end, a sign of life.

"C-Cap...come in. Thor...please...somebody. Are you there?"

The receiver buzzed hollowly, and he leaned against the wall with a moan. The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop.

"Tony...Natasha...Clint? P-please. Answer me! Tell me you're alright. T-tell me you got out. Oh God, oh God..."

In his desperation, Peter gripped the phone too tight, and the fragile device suddenly crumpled in his hand. Glass and metal fell between his fingers, and he stared at his palm with hazy anguish. What have I done? Why didn't I stop him? Why didn't I come sooner? Oh God, what have I done?

Hollers and cheers sounded to his right, and he glanced that way deliriously. The group of men he had seen behind the truck before had emerged from their hiding spot and were standing in the street, pointing at the destruction, high-fiving, laughing. In the light of the smoldering wreckage, their bodies and faces were visible now, although Peter's vision was still shaky and blurred. Their forms looked oddly bulky, and seemed to reflect the golden glow of the fire. They were wearing some kind of armor. He counted five in total.

"Wait a sec, boys. Where's the doc? Mister wasn't caught up in the blast, was he?"

At his words, Peter's spidey sense sparked at the base of his skull, right as a mechanical tentacle burst out of the water and stabbed into the concrete. A jagged body broke the surface after, followed by three more artificial limbs. The round man crawled from the river, and behind the metal mask he wore, his face was twisted with rage.

"Who did it?" he spat, rising high off the ground on the four malevolent tentacles. Water dripped from his suit and darkened the asphalt below his feet. "Which one of you dared attack me? My mission was nearly compromised!"

"Huh?"

"Wasn't us, Doc."

"Not me."

"Sure you didn't just trip or something?"

"Who cares? We did it! All of 'em blown to smithereens!"

At the carelessness and cruelty of their words, fury boiled in Spider-Man's blood. They had murdered his friends. His friends were dead because of them. These men—these monsters—had sought them out and claimed their lives. He wanted to scream, fight, and cry all at the same time. It was one thing for his enemies to go after Spider-Man, beat him to the verge of death, publicly humiliate him in front of the entire city. It was another thing for them to murder innocent civilians that Peter never knew. But now that they had taken the people he truly loved, his family?

He hadn't been able to protect his friends. But he'd make damn well sure he avenged them.

"Well somebody had to knock me over! Somebody had to push me in!" A single accusatory arm stuck out at them threateningly. "Which one of you idiots did it?"

"This idiot, asshole!"

Before he had even turned all the way around, a punch like none he'd ever felt suddenly struck the doctor in the face, and he went sailing over the bomb site right into the rest of his team. A few were knocked to their rears like bowling pins, while the rest scrambled to catch their disheveled leader. When they had recovered from the shock, all twelve eyes fell upon their solitary attacker, who leapt over the wreckage and stood before them menacingly. His lean, angular body was clothed in all black, and the dying flames gilded the contours of his coiled muscles. The piercing white eye-lenses bored through the smokey air like daggers.

"Who the hell is that little pipsqueak?" the Rhino snorted, helping Doctor Octopus to his feet. Now Peter could see; all six of them—O'Hirn, Octavius, Electro, Shocker, Fishbowl-Face, and the Vulture—were dressed in some kind of body armor. It wasn't overly thick, but it certainly added some extra and unneeded surface area to their appearances, especially the Rhino's. The metal was almost liquid-looking, and brilliantly silver. It reminded him of War Machine's suit, without Stark's "hotrod" paint job. Guess the case of Tony's stolen materials had been solved.

Octavius tore away from his teammates and licked at his busted lips, still somewhat stunned by the great force that had hit him. He glared down at the person standing at the edge of the road and gritted his teeth.

"You are making a grave mistake, boy. You have no idea the forces you are meddling with here. Leave at once, and I may consider forgiving your discourtesy. This operation doesn't concern you."

"Doesn't concern me?" he retorted lividly. "You don't think you blowing up my friends concerns me? Or everything else you sadistic dickwads have done to me and my city?" His voice was shaking as he spoke. His fists shivered at his sides.

Octavius' face wrinkled into an amused sneer. "Your city? That's dangerously audacious talk, little one. Considering the current circumstances, I thought it was clear: this city is ours now. Hydra is buried, and the Avengers are gone."

Sucking in a breath of bitter air, the black-clad hero dropped slowly into a crouch, bending low on both knees with one hand angled behind his arching back and the other sprawled flat against the concrete in front of his face. The insect-like stance was familiar, iconic—and the realization struck the Sinister Six in a shocking rush.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're wrong. There's one man left that you morons overlooked. One more Avenger that's still here to kick your asses and keep the city safe." In a flash, he darted into the street, straight for the six armored villains. "Your not-so-friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"

He threw his full weight into Doctor Octopus, and sprung off his body as it toppled to the earth. He landed on the Rhino's chest, uppercut him in the jaw, swung around his horn, webbed it to his leg, and kicked the back of his knee. He zipped between Mysterio's legs, hooked two web-lines to the back of his bowling-ball head, and flung him into the building across the street. There was no hesitation in his movements, no thought or distraction to hinder him. Everything was fluid and efficient. He rammed the side of his foot into Electro's neck, seeing that he was now wearing a solid, high-tech-looking suit, and sent him flying down the road. Black webbing splattered over the Vulture's helmet, and he threw him into Shocker with all his strength. The two went tumbling across the pavement with a plethora of grunts, right as Peter's spidey sense buzzed inside his skull. He ducked as a metal arm whipped above his head, rolled as another lashed at his body, then yelped as a third seized him by the ankle. His flailing form was ripped from the ground, and the tentacle dangled him high above the asphalt, upside-down.

"Spider-Man?" Doctor Octopus hissed in disbelief, voice muffled by the futuristic helmet. "This is impossible! You can't be him! Wilson Fisk told us you were dead!"

"Gasp! No way! The Kingpin of crime, lying to you? What a completely unpredictable plot twist!" He rammed his fist into the arm's metallic frame, but the powerful mechanism didn't budge. Instead, the punch made his own hand blossom with pain, and he bit back a cry of agony. In fact, as his senses began to rekindle and he considered the aching bruises he could feel developing all over his body, he realized all the hits he had dealt thus far seemed as though they were hurting him just as much as those they were meant for. Their stupid armor was blocking all his attacks!

"That pitiful swine let you live? I can't believe this! He stole the glory of killing you from me for himself, and then didn't even fall through with it?"

The rest of the Sinister Six had already recovered, and were surrounding their leader as he held the squirmy figure above the street. Their eyes were wide with shock and anger.

"If it makes you feel any better, he tried his very best," Peter chuckled scornfully with a shrug. "But I've got this uncanny habit of always popping back up again even after—mmmph!"

A second tentacle shot out and clamped over his entire face, cutting his words short. The last two grabbed his arms, making him unable to claw himself free.

"Is it really him?" the Vulture scoffed, peeling the remaining web-fluid from his helmet. "That same unbearable pest from before? This one's costume is different."

"Sounds like 'em. Fights like 'em. Irritates the pants off yah like 'em. I reckon this lil' rascal is our bug after all."

The Rhino stamped his foot into the pavement. "Are you kidding me? I thought the little twerp was supposed to be dead!"

"Now, now, calm down, boys. No need to cause a scene." Octavius watched the hero twist and flail helplessly beneath his hold, and a grin curled along his lips. "I must admit, hero; if you are who you claim to be, your selective fitness and dedication to being a relentless nuisance are admirable. You have a terrible gift of imperishability, unlike the rest of your pathetic friends. But that is an inconvenience easily remedied."

He tightened his grip on Spider-Man's head, aiming to crush his skull like a grape, when the dark material of his costume suddenly stirred. Then, in an instant, black tendrils shot out from his shoulders and jabbed into Doctor Octopus' face, cracking his helmet's goggles and making him leap with a start. His hold on the teen hero faltered, and Peter wrenched his arms free and tore the prongs off his head. With a quick twist, he kicked out of the last device and flung himself between the Rhino's legs, rolling along the pavement and popping up safely outside the evil circle. The gang of bad guys towered over him threateningly.

"You don't know when to give up, do you?" Octavius hissed, ripping the lingering glass shards from his goggles. "Your misguided determination is impressive in its own paltry way. But what, might I ask, do you have left to fight for? A smart boy like yourself must have deduced by now the unfortunate passing of all your beloved teammates. There is nothing for you to gain by fighting us."

"How about payback?" he spat lividly. "Ever consider that? How about I make you regret all of the horrible thing you've done? All of you!"

Doctor Octopus smirked hideously. "My, my, Spider-Man. I never thought I'd see the day you of all people fell to the lust for visionless revenge. Such aggressive talk from someone once so comical and air-headed, but now so small and alone." He rose up on two of his mechanical arms, while the other pair fanned out at his sides. "And now, more than ever, so hysterically outclassed. Remember how well you faired the last time we all fought? Look at the men you are going up against now, arachnid. Thanks to the complacency of a certain metal avenger, I have outfitted all of us in protective, combat-enhancive, weaponized battle suits. I have managed to make the most powerful beings on the planet even more so. So take a moment, little hero, and consider your options wisely. We came after you last time because that accursed Fisk ordered us to, but now that we are a sovereign body, I am giving you a choice. We have already won the war; your existence is microscopic in my eyes. So if you harbor an inkling of sense in that naive head of yours and wish to escape with your life, leave now, and never show your face in our city again." His cruel smile grew broader. "But if you're the moron I've always known you to be, by all means, stay, and grant us the honor of bringing your life to a well-deserved end."

So they weren't with Fisk and Hydra anymore. He had assumed such after Doc's little hate-speech and the bombing of their ex-boss's base, but now it was certain. This was a three-way battle, although things were looking rather glum on Peter's side of the field. And yet, a rage burned within him—wild, untamable, permeating his skin and racing through his flesh. He couldn't shake it. He knew this was insane. Even with the symbiote's help, it was very unlikely that he'd be able to defeat the six monsters looming above him, all of whom were armed like a bunch of serial killers out of some freakish sci-fi thriller. He knew the rational thing to do right now was to back down, contact Fury, galvanize some extra help, then bring the fight to them when he was more prepared.

But rationality wasn't his concern anymore. Making these bastards pay was. And he would use all the power he had to do exactly that.

"Oh Octy, you know me so well," he growled. Some police cars had pulled up along the outskirts of the scene, as well as a growing group of curious, wide-eyed civilians. There was no joking tone to Peter's voice. "Except for the part where you even suggested that I would ever let you reprobates get away with what you've done. You have crossed the line, assholes. Now it's my turn."

Peter darted into the maw, and his instincts kicked into overdrive. All of their movements seemed to be in slow motion, and the first thing that caught his eye was the Vulture lifting off the ground. A web cable shot from his wrist and latched on to his wing, and he vaulted over the swinging arms and flying fists with a sharp upwards jerk of his body. Bird-man dragged him high into the air, and the spectators watched in awe.

"You've bested me twice, Spider-Man!" Toomes yelled down to him, driving higher and higher into the starless sky. "But your luck will run out this time around, along with your will to live!"

The Vulture did a full 360 then began to curve into a loop-de-loop, but Spider-Man was ready. He fired another web-line with his free hand that stuck to the Vulture's chest, then yanked it behind his head. As his enemy lurched downwards, Peter continued skyward, and he nailed him in the chin with the end of his kneecap. His bones throbbed from the impact, but he didn't care. Cushion my hits, he instructed the symbiote. If he concentrated the organic material on whatever body part he was using to strike the armored villains, maybe the recoil wouldn't be so damaging. The Vulture's head snapped back, and he cried in anger. The pair of them dropped a few hundred feet before he managed to level out, with Spider-Man still trailing him via web.

"That is it!" he screeched, and rocketed down to his comrades. As Peter was pulled between them, a devastating blast knocked him in the side, and he crashed to the asphalt with a groan. Two more came barreling towards him where he laid, but he somersaulted out of the way and sprung into a crouch. Balling his hands into fists, Peter dashed at Shocker and ducked under another air blast, skidding along the pavement and knocking his legs out from underneath him. Montana face-planted into the road, but rolled upright instantly and fired more energy pulses his way. One nicked him in the shoulder, and he couldn't believe how much it hurt. His gauntlets were definitely more powerful than the last time they had fought. Recovering, Peter webbed up his goggles, then tore a road light from its roots and slammed it into his stomach. The hit hardly moved his armored form, however, and he buzzed the webbing off with ease. Spider-Man evaded another energy blast, hopped over a swinging tentacle, sprawled flat against the street as the Vulture's talons sliced above his head, until a horrible shock suddenly jarred through his body. While distracted, Electro had sent a bolt of powerful electricity zipping into his skinny form, and he laughed maniacally as Spider-Man twitched and cried in pain. Peter knocked him good with a super-powered slug to the neck, but it wasn't good enough. With swelling panic, he realized he was essentially wailing on a bunch of Iron Men with nothing but his bare hands, except these Iron Men all had a variety of deadly abilities tacked on to their impenetrability. Crap.

Hardly fazed, Electro sent him flying backwards with a zap to the chest, and he hit the pavement hard. A second later, a giant metal foot slammed into his stomach, and he flew into the building beside the river. Concrete and mortar spilled over his aching body, and he crawled from the wreckage in a daze. Then his spidey sense went haywire inside his head, and he jumped to the left right as a tentacle crashed into the cement between his feet.

"It pleases me that you're so headstrong, arachnid," Octavius jeered, claws snapping at the open air. "This is the perfect opportunity for us to test out our new gear. Go ahead, boys. Show him what we've got."

"Ooh, me first!" the Rhino bellowed excitedly. With a couple of deep whirs and clicks, two metal panels quickly rose up from his shoulders. Thick, oval-shaped objects listed forward to poke out of the cavities, and Peter's eyes went wide.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding—"

Shoom, shoom! A pair of freaking missiles launched from the Rhino's armor and flew straight at him. Frantically, Spider-Man leapt on to the wall and sprinted towards the roof, right as the rockets exploded behind him. His body was flung forward just as he reached the crown, and he sailed all the way over the wide structure. He landed roughly on the other side with a grunt, then turned to watch a ball of fire bloom into the sky.

Holy crap. This was bad.

"Aw, he's still breathing," Octavius whined, rounding the corner on his four deadly appendages. The rest of Six followed, and Peter quickly scrambled to his feet. "Who wants to go next? Toomes?"

"With pleasure," he cackled, and rocketed straight for him. Peter planted his sticky feet firmly to the concrete and snagged two web-lines on to his metal wings, then whipped him towards the ground. Toomes slammed into the earth, rolled once, then popped back into the air with one wing titled back. He whisked it in front of his body, and hundreds of tiny dagger-feathers flew from his mechanical plumage like ninja stars. Peter bent over backwards to avoid the majority, but a couple raked across his chest and face, and one lodged into his calf. He cursed in agony, but that was the least of his worries. The Vulture was upon him, and his jagged talons hooked deep into his shoulders. To make matters worse, as soon as they grabbed hold of his flesh, an electrified jolt tore through his body. Peter took hold of the Vulture's leg in his shaking hands and squeezed as hard as he could, until he finally felt the metal give beneath his grip. A few more seconds, and he'd snap his bone. But with a cry of rage, Toomes tore the talons from his skin and flung him to the ground, and Peter rolled and rolled until he bumped into the edge of a wooden dock. He laid wallowing in agony for a moment, wondering how they had all updated their tech so quickly and evilly, before scrounging himself back together. With shivery effort, he heaved himself upright, and ripped the feather from his leg. It clattered to the concrete, leaving streaks of red where it bounced.

"You're pitiful, Spider-Man," Octavius scoffed amusedly. His human arms, cocooned in silvery armor, were crossed over his pudgy chest. "You deserve to suffer."

"Well, you deserve to have a cactus hammered up your asshole," Peter hissed under his breath, but this only made the Sinister Six laugh harder.

"And yet, who out of the two of us is the one bleeding on the ground?"

A long, snake-like appendage lashed out at his quaking form, and he barely sprung out of the way as it jabbed into the cement. Peter grabbed a large chunk of rubble with a single web-line and flung it at Doctor Octopus' face, but he shattered it with a sweep of his arms and thrusted a tentacle into his gut. Spider-Man tumbled far down the boardwalk, half his body hanging over the edge when he finally came to a stop. The water rose and churned hardly a foot below him, beckoning his tortured soul to sink into its murky darkness.

"Mysterio will display his majestic new powers for your pain and amazement next!" Fishbowl-Face proclaimed, stepping out on to the dock and stretching out his hand. From underneath his gilded sleeves, tiny darts began to shoot out towards him. Peter jumped over the first wave, ducked under the second, then found the next one impossible to dodge at any angle. Reacting on raw adrenaline, Peter gripped on to the side of the boardwalk and rounded the edge in one ridiculous flip, his feet skidding over the water before sticking to the slimy underbelly of the dock. A stinging pain flared along his forearm before he had fully executed the maneuver, however, and he held it close to his body with gritted teeth. The stinky, black river bobbed just beneath him, occasionally slapping against his back and sending chills up his spine.

This was a mistake! he thought in a panic, wincing as the symbiote drew the tiny spikes from his skin and dropped them into the water below. What was I thinking, taking them on all by myself? I can't beat them! They're going to kill me!

No! Wrong! We can destroy them! We don't need anyone but us! We can be strong enough, if you'd only let go! Give us full control!

What do you—is that me thinking? Who is that? What is—?

Spidey sense. Instantaneously, a tentacle crashed right through the dock and plunged into the water. Peter jerked his body barely out of the way as splinters flew and waves splashed, and the claws snapped hungrily at the empty space. Another burst in between his feet, and a third just inches from his head, until the doctor finally got smart. The fourth and final arm came zipping around the boardwalk and snagged him around the middle, and Peter yelped as he was dragged from his hiding spot.

"Am I right to assume that you're having second thoughts about choosing to battle us, Spider-Man?" Octavius inquired, as if he could read his mind. The tentacle clamped around his torso felt like it was crushing his diaphragm, making it incredibly difficult to breath. He kicked and pulled at it valiantly, and could feel it bending beneath his hold, but it wouldn't release him.

"S-second thoughts?" he asked sourly, gripping on to the thick mechanical fingers. "Pish-posh, Squidward. I don't ever second guess myself. It's one of my flaws. One that we clearly have in common, seeing that you chose to cut your hair like that and haven't gone back and begged the salon to fix it from looking like a salad bowl with split ends. Might I suggest…T-Ted Gibson…on fifth…avenue…"

Something was wrong. His head was starting to spin. It felt like he was about to black out. The arm squeezed around his middle was not helping his case. His words slurred together, and his head swayed a little, but he forced himself to stay upright, and blinked his eyes frantically. Oh no. What's happening…?

"What's the matter, arachnid?" Octavius jeered mockingly, drawing him closer. "Why so sluggish all of a sudden? Don't tell me you're fading out on us already."

"Our little friend must be falling victim to the effects of Mysterio's fabulous new poison-tipped fly-darts!" Snow Globe exclaimed, producing one from a tube under his armor and snatching it out of the air. "Each is coated in a glorious mixture of powerful neurotoxins, capable of rendering the average person completely incapacitated in a matter of seconds!"

"Oh, s-screw you guys," Peter moaned, shaking his head woozily. He could feel his muscles slowing beneath his skin. "Just when I thought…you couldn't possibly be…any bigger p-pricks…"

"Dozing off on us, are we?" Dr. Octopus scoffed. "How rude. But don't worry, Spider-Man: I know exactly what will cure that."

Curling his claws tighter around the scrawny hero, Octavius thrusted his tentacle downwards, and dunked Peter straight into the river. He gasped in terror as his body was submerged, and the icy darkness swallowed him whole. He kicked and screamed beneath the surface for almost a full minute before he was finally pulled from the waters, and he choked raggedly on the humid air.

"See? You're looking livelier alright. It's definitely helping. But perhaps you need a little bit more, yes?"

"N-no," he murmured pleadingly, dizzy and delirious and fighting to catch his breath. But his enemy ignored him, and he was forced into the deadly waters again. He gagged as his lungs flooded with liquid, and grappled at the tentacle with wild desperation. Pockets and cracks were forming in the armor beneath his powerful fingers, but he didn't have the strength to break it. The wait for air was longer this time, and blackness began to invade his eyes. He was drowning. When he was eventually lifted from the river, all he could do was cough up water and gulp as much oxygen into his starving body as possible. From the safety of land, right on the edge of the river, the rest of the Sinister Six were cackling.

"It's appropriate, don't you think? For you to die by the same medium that took the rest of the Avengers. For your body to rot in the same disgusting waters that theirs will. It holds a certain irony and poetic quality that someone even as uncultured as yourself must appreciate, right?"

Peter couldn't answer. Every time he exhaled, the claws coiled tighter around his diaphragm, like a boa constrictor squeezing the life from its prey. Hollow gasps burst from his throat, and his head swam with exhaustion.

"In any case, it's as meaningful a death as you're going to get from me, though please feel free to withhold your gratitude. I'm a modest man."

He couldn't let it happen again. He wouldn't survive it. With no other ideas present in his hazy mind, Peter curled his hands around the tentacle gripping his torso and willed the symbiote to drive inside it. The black sludge poured into the device's inner-workings, and ripped through the coils and wires. Before Octavius could plunge Spider-Man into the water for a third and fatal time, he felt something snap inside the metal arm that held him, and the prongs at the end suddenly went limp. A flood of air surged into Peter's lungs as the pressure was relieved, and his adversary faltered.

"Wha—? What did you—?"

A web-line zipped from his wrist and snagged on to one of the tentacles supporting the evil doctor, and he ripped it out from under his body. Octavius stumbled with a shout of surprise, and his other arm whipped harshly to the side, sending Peter flying down the boardwalk. A small boat was parked at the end of the dock, and he crashed into the sail, tearing a hole clean through it, before tumbling into the hull. He lay tangled in the scratchy ropes that were strung loosely from the rods overhead, wheezing weakly and grasping to stay conscious.

"Damn, you're annoying," Octavius growled, crawling clumsily to his feet. He stared at the broken claw distastefully for a moment, then marched towards the tottering boat. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Peter laid with his limbs sprawled out and messy, gulping down choppy breaths, unable to move. The poison was turning his muscles to stone, and his superior senses to mush. He couldn't think. He couldn't escape.

Doctor Octopus loomed over him like a ghostly shadow, taking in his enemy's crumpled, vulnerable form, and heaved a lofty sigh. "You know, Spider-Man—I almost feel sorry for you. Look at you lying there: broken, helpless, and utterly alone. All of your friends are gone, and the whole city has shown up just to watch you die a bloody and shameful death. I wonder what terrified thoughts must be racing through your head at this moment."

Terrified wasn't exactly how he'd describe it. Empty, more like. Peter felt completely and totally hollow inside. The loss of his friends hadn't truly settled with him until that very moment. They were gone, and he was alone. Never in his life had he experienced such unbearable, crippling loneliness. All the fight was out of him, both physically and emotionally, and emptiness was the only thing he knew. He could feel the symbiote working to lift his body up, get him back to his feet, and he tried for a moment to do so. But a powerful tentacle rammed into his chest and enclosed around his frail form, pinning him down.

"But this was your choice. I gave you a choice, and you chose wrong." The metal prongs at the ends of the two operational arms began spinning wildly, turning into merciless buzz saws. Peter's spidey sense throbbed at the base of his skull, but there was nothing he could do. He could hear people off in the distance yelling, sirens wailing. The chopping blades descended on to body. "Now die, foolish hero. And stay dead."

He closed his eyes. The first one reached his stomach, tore through the black slime, and barely brushed his skin. The pain was like fire. But before it could cut any deeper, the buzzing stopped. The spinning ceased. The agony didn't escalate. When he found himself not carved to pieces in the next few moments, he ventured a peek through slitted eyelids with shivery disbelief, gasping raggedly.

The tentacles sat unmoving above him. His scrambled mind didn't understand at first, until his eyes focused on the claws at the ends of the arms. Both were shrouded in orbs of flickering, red energy, with the deadly fingers frozen inside.

"Leave my friend alone, you bastard."

Octavius' face skewed with confusion. "W-what?" he exclaimed, whipping around. "What's happening? Who are you? What the hell do you think you are—?"

With a sweep of her hand, Doctor Octopus was thrown from the dock, and he dropped into the water with a loud splash. Peter blinked slowly, realizing he wasn't sliced to ribbons, and struggled to lift his heavy limbs. Before he could move more than an inch, however, he felt a strange pressure surround his body, and he rose from the boat on a cloud of red light. After floating a short distance away from the rickety hull, he was lowered with care back on to the dock, and felt his head settle into a cradling hand. A familiar face stared down at his from above, eyes wide and worrisome, skin flushed with fear.

"Peter?" she said desperately, voice raw with pain. "Can you hear me? Are you alright? Peter!"

She felt him stir in her arms, and Peter gazed up at his rescuer with poignant disbelief. "W…Wanda?" he croaked, his breathing growing steadier. Relief like none he'd ever felt suddenly rushed through him. "Oh…oh my gosh. You're here?"

"Oh, Peter," she whispered, and wrapped him into a fierce hug. Her arms were warm and comforting around his aching body. "Thank God you are okay. I thought I was too late."

"You…saved me," he said, still in shock. "Again." A pained smile pulled at his lips and crinkled his eyes beneath his mask. "Thanks. Again. We've s-seriously gotta stop meeting like this."

He coughed hoarsely, and she moved her hand to his back to help support him better. "You're hurt. We have to get you away from here." She lifted one arm up to move him with her magic-ness, when a flock of feather-knives came zipping from behind them, two of which sliced across her hand. She cried in agonized surprise, and a pair of talons snatched her up by the jacket and flung her away from Peter.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Vulture snapped. "Get away from our prey!" Wanda caught herself with pulses of energy from her palms, hovering just above the water. Spider-Man could see the blurry outline of the Vulture circling him in the sky, preparing to dive-bomb his feeble form, and he gritted his teeth together. Have to move. Have to move.

With a groan, the sable hero forced himself into a sitting position, clutching on to his pounding head. Peter dropped one hand flat against the wood, dragged his legs underneath his body, then gave himself a moment to compose. A level breath seeped from his lips, and finally he pushed off the dock and stood all the way upright. His knees wobbled a bit, but he stood his ground.

"Pe—I mean—Spider-Man! Stop! I am coming!" Wanda flew towards him rapidly, but a puff of colorful gas exploded right in front of her, blocking Peter from her sights and making her wheeze.

"Bow before the power of the arcane arts, naive new foe!" Mysterio bellowed, chucking more smoke bombs her way. He, Electro, and Shocker were standing along the water's edge, concentrating their firepower her direction, while the Vulture was occupied with Spider-Man. Peter lifted his gaze to the sky, and curled his hands into fists.

"N-no. It's okay. I'm okay, Wanda," he called back to her calmly. And, for once, he wasn't just saying that. The poison was already beginning to wear off, thanks to his extremely accelerated metabolism, and his body's oxygen levels had been replenished. He could feel the strength returning to his muscles, and his energy was steadily revitalizing. But, most importantly, his will to fight had been renewed. He had a reason to fight now. A real, tangible reason. Not for payback, or hate, or anger, or vengeance, or any of those reasons he knew were against his nature to be driven by, but for a person. Someone who cared about him enough to put her life on the line in order to protect him, and for whom he would do the same. A selfless ally. A true friend. A person who reminded him that there were still things left for him to fight for.

"I'm fine," he asserted, then aimed his wrist at the sky. The Vulture had banked back his direction and was zipping towards him like a torpedo, wings tucked at his sides. His talons unsheathed within moments of reaching Spider-Man, but Peter had his spidey sense at his advantage. At the last second, he dodged to the right, snagged a web-line to Toomes' face, then used his momentum to swing him around and around and throw him across the river. The Vulture crashed into a large yacht that sat beside the neighboring dock, inciting screams of terror from the people aboard. He seemed indisposed for now, when Peter's spidey sense suddenly erupted inside his head. He spun around right as a tentacle shot out of the water and seized him by the throat.

"You incessant pest!" Octavius gurgled. His broken face mask was brimming with water, and his eyes were bloodshot with rage. "You're pathetic! You have fooled with me long enough!" He climbed out of the water with his mechanical arms, lifting Peter higher and higher off the ground. Spider-Man clawed at the prongs clamped around his neck, gagging feebly. His powerful fingers curled around the metal teeth, and he pried them away with all his might, shivering with effort. With the slightest leverage, he drove his knee into the tentacle, breaking its hold on him, and flipped back on to the wooden boardwalk. As soon as his feet touched down, Peter sprung straight at Doctor Octopus and connected a solid roundhouse kick to his jaw, sending him reeling backwards. The armor protected his enemy from the majority of the blow, however, and he managed to sweep an arm out before falling to his ass and knocked Spider-Man back with a jarring hit to the chest. Peter slammed into the dock and rolled head over heels, finally coming to a stop on his back with a groan. He could hear Wanda yelling as she fended off the attackers that were behind him, and the sound of metal tentacles pounding into the wood just ahead. He lifted his gaze right as Doctor Octopus reached him, towering over his small frame.

"It's pitiful how transparent your feeble mind is," he growled. "One friend jumps to your rescue, and suddenly your hope of surviving our wrath is reawakened. But you are a moron to think that the addition of a single ally will help you defeat us, arachnid. Did you really believe that having one other person by your side would make you capable of overpowering the most powerful beings on this earth?" A claw raised above Octavius' head and shot towards his body, gunning to skewer him like a shish kabob.

But before it could reach him, a small object suddenly flew from behind Peter and struck Doc Ock between the eyes, right where the glass had been shattered and his face was exposed. He fell back with a cry of pain, clutching his forehead, and the deadly tentacle missed Spider-Man by a mile. The thing that had hit him zipped back over Peter's shoulder, and he turned around right as a figure marched to a stop beside him.

"Don't worry, kid," the man said, reeling the other half of what looked like a weaponized baton back into his hand with a jerk of his wrist, "I've got you."

Spider-Man blinked up at the strange newcomer from where he sat on the dock, startled and astonished. He had never seen anybody like him before. "W-what the hell? Who are you?"

"A simple 'thank you for saving me' seems like a more mannerly response," he chuckled, offering him a hand. "But I guess this isn't the first time I've had to save your ass from dying this week, so the pleasantry isn't really necessary."

Accepting the help warily, Peter rose to his feet, looking the man up and down. He was certainly one of the weirder characters he had seen, but definitely not the weirdest. His costume was composed of mostly dark red material, but was broken up by panels of black on his shoulders, knees, and sides. Everything from the tips of his toes to the top of his head was completely covered, likely for protection, except for his nose and mouth. The lenses of his mask were molded to the shape of his eyes and colored a particularly menacing shade of red. He watched him twist his little billy club contraption back together and grip it in his fist. Overall, it wasn't an exceptionally odd costume—not much more than a tricked-out ninja suit with some customized flair—until you noticed the horns. Yes, that's right: horns. There were two of them; a pair of tiny, pointy nubs poking out at the top of his mask. They kinda reminded him of Batman's ears, except less…batty. They were almost hysterical, how purposely discreet yet glaringly obvious they were, and how they completely altered the vibe the entire outfit exuded. But Peter's mind was occupied on another matter. Nothing about the guy's appearance was familiar; that he was sure of. But there was something about his quirky mannerism, his fluid movements, and that eerily gruff yet gentle voice…

When the realization finally slapped him in the face, Spider-Man grabbed the man by the shoulders. "Wait, wait, wait. Oh my freaking gosh. Black ninja dude? Is that—are you—Matty—?"

"Daredevil," he interrupted him pointedly. "Call me Daredevil."

"Daredevil?" he repeated stupidly. He was pretty sure he had heard that name before, maybe on TV or in one of the Bugle's corner news articles. He shook his head bewilderedly. "What the hell? When did this happen? We switched color schemes. You're devil-themed now? I thought you were a Catholic? I'm so confused. Are you some kind of low-profile superhero? Is Claire one too? How did you even know I needed help?"

"I got a tip from one of your friends," he said simply. "Plus, I could hear the ruckus you freaks were causing three miles out from here. But mention me or my friend by name one more time, and I'll throw you back to that eight-limbed psycho and leave you for dead."

Peter hunched his shoulders shyly. "Oh. Right. Sorry." Then he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "But—wait—a tip? From which friend?"

A cry of agony suddenly sounded from behind them, and Mysterio came skidding down the boardwalk all the way to their feet. Startled, Peter's eyes lifted from the downed enemy to the end of the dock, where an instantly recognizable figure stood with one foot kicked out in front of her. She dropped from her stance, placed a hand on her hip, and tossed her curly hair over her shoulder.

"Hey boys. Sorry if I'm tardy to the party. Is this guy bothering you?"

Spider-Man was gaping under his mask. "Holy crap. Black Cat?" Mysterio groaned at his feet, and he grabbed him by the arm and flung him back to shore like a rag doll. Black Cat watched him fly over her head with snort, then grinned slyly at the darkly dressed hero.

"Hiya, spider," she addressed him sweetly as he jogged towards her. "My, have you got your hands full this evening. I see as usual you've bitten off more than you can swallow."

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached. "You can't be here! Fisk will kill you and your dad if he finds out you're helping me!"

"Yeah," she agreed with a solemn smile. "Probably. But my friend needs my help, and I'm done turning a blind eye because I'm afraid. You're worth it to me."

Peter stared at her incredulously. "I…I don't believe this."

She dropped her gaze to her feet, and hid her bashfulness behind a casual shrug. "I know. I'm probably not your first choice for backup, and the whole 'doing-the-right-thing' conundrum is still pretty new to me. But I—I dunno; I knew you'd be there for me if I was in trouble, so I just thought I might—"

To her surprise, Spider-Man suddenly pulled her into a hug. She blinked speechlessly.

"Thank you so much, Cat."

He'd thought he was alone, abandoned, without an ally in the world. He had been wrong—three times over, in fact—and he was so thankful for that. Black Cat was so taken back by the embrace, she didn't know how to react at first. But her senses eventually came to, and she returned his hug genuinely, but quickly pulled away with a glow of sheepishness.

"No problem, spider. Really."

Peter was brimming with guilty relief. He was so glad they were all here, even though he knew how dangerous the situation was. But his happiness rapidly vanished as his spidey sense went off at the base of his skull, and he spun around.

"Imperious fools," Octavius spat, standing upright with effort. A dark mark was left on his forehead where Daredevil had hit him, dripping blood between his eyes and down his chin. "Where are all of you coming from? Why are you helping this thickheaded boy?" His malevolent arms rose up around him, winding and coiling like hungry serpents. "You are all just surrendering yourselves to the same unruly fate he has brought upon himself. Let's see how long your loyalties last when your spines are removed from your—gaaah!"

Swirling red energy suddenly materialized around his throat, cutting off the doctor's monologue. He gagged violently, and his body was lifted from the dock. With a sharp upwards movement, Octavius was thrown all the way across the battlefield into the rest of the Sinister Six scattered in the road, and they were knocked into the building across the street with a plethora of yelps and groans. In the place where their enemy once stood, Wanda floated down and dropped on to the boardwalk, eyes smoldering with anger and body seething with heavy breaths. The scarlet light dissipated from fingers, and her hands fell to her sides.

"I told you to stay down," she told Peter lividly, wiping the sweat from her brow. "That ugly tentacle man and his friends injured you."

"That. Was. Badass," Peter exclaimed brightly, ignoring her drilling glare. "Damn, Wanda. You're, like, a billion times more awesome than you've let on. But I'm fine, honestly. I recover quick, and they didn't do anything mortally damaging, thanks to you."

"You still shouldn't be fighting," she stated bluntly, then turned to the other figures flanking Peter on either side. "And who are you two?"

"Daredevil," Matty answered with a nod and a smirk, "and I was about to ask the same thing. That's a seriously weird skill set you've got there."

"Wait. I thought you all knew each other," Peter said confusedly, glancing between them. "How'd you all know to come here at the same time?"

"I came by myself because I saw you were in trouble," Wanda replied. "I don't know either of these people. Are you sure they are your friends?"

"We're all friends here, sweetheart," Cat retorted cooly, leaning off Peter's shoulder. "Don't you remember little Spidey and I working together to rescue you from your maniac boss?"

Her brow raised in surprise. "You are the one who helped us?"

"Yep. The name's Black Cat. And quit worrying over our mutual pal so much. This itsy-bitsy spider is one tough cookie." She wrapped her arm around Peter's elbow and pecked him on the cheek, making him wince and blush a little. A conservative scowl formed on Wanda's face as she watched the charming girl coddle over Spider-Man, but she quickly shrugged it off.

"If you say so. Now then, shall we get back to the fight?"

"Hold up. I'm still confused," Peter interjected, scratching the back of his head and pointing to each of them. "Did you all just happen to show up here at the same time to help me? Is this just a very weird and convenient coinky-dink or something?" He turned to Cat. "I thought Daredevil said you told him I was getting my ass beat."

"Me? Afraid not, darling. I wasn't made aware of your little predicament until about thirty minutes ago. And even then, I had no idea you would be fighting this army of crazies; I was simply told you had dug yourself into one hell of a pickle and might be in very serious trouble soon. I guess he was right."

"What? Who told you that?" He glanced over at Matthew, but he shook his head.

"Wasn't me. I got the same speech. After I witnessed what happened to you the last time you messed with Fisk's men up close and personal, it didn't seem farfetched that, after messing with them again, more hell would be coming your way. And when you've got that guy giving you an actually serious warning about something, it's best you take it to heart and stay on alert for crap like this to pop up. Which it did, about an hour later."

"Who warned you? What guy? You were both told by the same person that I was in trouble, and neither of you even know he is? How does this dude know so much about me?"

"Oh, we know who he is," Cat giggled, "but who doesn't, honestly?"

"Well clearly I 'doesn't'! This is so annoying! Just tell me who the hell sent you two to help me!"

Matty snorted, and motioned with his head towards the land behind them. Puzzled, Peter turned around.

"Eat lead you fugly, nasty, fetch-less, skank &!* #$!"

A red and black figure was bounding and skipping around the Sinister Six, and began unloading two assault rifles on to them with maniacal laughter. The bullets rained over the armored men in a spray of sparks and pops, making them cower in surprise. Peter's jaw dropped.

"No. No way. You're kidding me," he stammered in disbelief. "Deadpool?"

At the sound of his name, Deadpool spun around flagrantly. "Huh? Oh hi, Spidey! Fancy seeing you here, heheh!"

Roaring frustratedly, another missile launcher rose up from the Rhino's armor, this one from his forearm, and fired. Wade screamed shrilly and turned tail, but the projectile struck the asphalt right behind his feet and flung him forwards in a devastating explosion. He sailed high then crashed to the concrete in front of Peter, smoke trailing off his charred back, and his two guns clattered around him in pieces. Spider-Man ran off the dock on to solid ground and grabbed him by the arm.

"Holy crap, Wade. Are you insane?"

"Totally! But clearly not as much as you are." He clambered to his feet with Peter's help, then licked his finger and pressed it on to his still-burning butt, which made a hiss sound. "Haha. Ow. But anyhoo—look what you've done! I warned you this would happen! You just had to keep being a little pain in the big bad's ass, and now you've mucked up the craziest batch of dildos from hell to come kill you!" He pulled a unicorn sticker out of his utility belt and slapped it right on Peter's forehead. "So there! I told you so!"

Spider-Man stood dumbstruck. "I—I don't get it," he stuttered, peeling it off perplexedly.

"Ha! I know right? Since when do I get to be an integral part to the plot two chapters in a row? Silly writer chick must've lost a bet or something."

"Not that—you. You told them? You're the one who told Cat and Daredevil I was in trouble?"

"Yep!" he cheered. "I mean, what did yah expect, arachna-boy? I knew I'd need all the help I could get to keep your sorry tuckus from being flattened by Hydra's goonies. I just didn't know the help would be needed this damn badly, and this damn soon!"

Spider-Man studied him with poignant skepticism. "I…uh…wow. I never imagined you…I mean, I thought you, like…hated me, or something."

"What!? Why?"

"Maybe because you've tried to kill me or hand me over to bad guys, like, three times or something."

"Oh please! That was before, cabbage patch; I was just trying to turn a quick buck when every toilet plunger and their mother was paying top dollar to have a piece of you. But I've never hated you! Just been willing to sell you to make some sweet moolah with Uncle Rico."

Peter wasn't entirely sure what Deadpool was trying to get across to him, but decided it wasn't really important. He glanced over his shoulder at Daredevil and Black Cat, who were watching the two of them amusedly, then turned back to Deadpool. He had brought him help when he needed it most, and that was what mattered now.

"I—I don't know what to say. Other than...oh geez, do I even dare?" He sighed begrudgingly, gave a small chuckle, then held out his hand. "Thanks, Wade. I really...I owe you one."

Deadpool blinked down at his outstretched palm surprisedly. "Oh. Alrighty," he murmured, taking it and giving it a flimsy shake. Satisfied, Peter went to drop the awkward exchange and be done with it, when all of a sudden Wade yanked Spider-Man towards him, spun him around with a twist of his arm, and wrapped him into a hug tighter than he thought possible. Peter yelped in alarm at the random display affection, though he wasn't sure why he hadn't seen it coming.

"Awww! Spidey! You're such a precious little cinnamon roll! Too good for this world, too pure!" He squeezed him around the middle like he was stuffed animal, digging his arms into Peter's many bruises and making him grimace feebly. "You owe me one? One what? A coffee, an autograph, a date with your girlfriend? Oooh, do I get decide? How 'bout one spider smooch? Just a little on, on the cheek? C'mon! I'll even let you choose which cheek out of my available four!"

"More like one enormous hospital bill for all the damage you're doing to my internal organs!" he retorted, squirming unfruitfully beneath his hold. "You're—ow! My ribs! Cut it out! You're crushing me!"

"Aw, fine. But you owe me one something, bug boy. And I expect your debt to be paid in full, ASAP."

"Who the hell is this?" Wanda inquired as Wade released a very discomposed Peter Parker. "He seems weird."

"Always, miss twitchy," Deadpool cooed, throwing her a kiss and a wink, and Spider-Man rubbed at his aching belly bitterly.

"Please don't ask."

"Ehem," Matty coughed loudly into his hand. All attention was redirected to him. "I hate to break up the bromance thing or whatever, but there is the issue of the gigantic brute squad we've all just pissed off regrouping over there."

The Sinister Six were untangling themselves from their shock and wreckage, and were gathering together on the other side of the street. Though significantly dented and bruised, their armor still retained its integrity, and none of them were out for the count yet. This battle was far from over.

Peter swallowed nervously, then motioned his friends forward. "Come on."

All five of them—Wanda, Daredevil, Black Cat, Deadpool, and Spider-Man—stepped off the wooden dock and on to solid ground. Peter stood in the middle with the others fanned out at his sides. The Sinister Six were on their feet now, and stood as a massive wall with Doctor Octopus out in front, the clear leader, seething. The only thing separating the two sides was the grimy road carved between them.

"You imbeciles!" Octavius screeched, his voice almost psychotic. "You all invite your doom! Why do you fight for this insolent child? Why do you choose to throw away your lives for his sake?"

Kinda wondering the same thing, Ock, Peter immediately thought despondently, glancing at the people standing levelly with him. They had to know: with the threat they were going up against, it was clear they were endangering their lives by standing with Spider-Man in this battle. Even he couldn't understand why they were so willing to do it. He was a mess of a person: confused, clumsy, delusional, annoying, and sometimes a downright jerk. He didn't believe he was worth all this. And yet, none of them were discouraged, none of them were fazed.

"Eh, he's not so bad, once you get to know him," Matty replied with a shrug. His billy club was held at the ready in his fist.

"He's got a way of making you smile when you really need it," Cat said, casting a smirk his way and unsheathing her claws.

"He's my ultimate onesie-wearing man crush!" Deadpool squealed. He drew his katanas from his back and sliced them through the air. "Plus, I can't die. So that's not an issue."

And my only real friend, he heard in his head. Peter turned to Wanda on his left, who was gathering red energy in her palms and smiling at him softly. Under his mask, Spider-Man felt himself redden a little.

"Come on guys, quit it," he whined melodramatically, stifling a sheepish laugh. "You're making your favorite spider-themed superhero get all choked up."

"Enough!" Octavius hissed. "I'm done entertaining you unbearable low-lifes!" He turned to the army gathered behind him with his hands balled into fists. "Kill them! Every last one of them!"

They rushed forward. Spider-Man's temporary happiness suddenly vanished, and he felt himself go stiff with fear. Oh gosh, this was really happening. What if they still weren't strong enough? What if the Sinister Six took away these friends, too—and he was really alone? But the people flanking him on both sides raced towards the fight without hesitance, and Peter quickly joined the charge. "Find their weak points! Break through their armor!" he cried. He decided he would just have to trust in them, as they trusted in him.

They met in the center of the street, and all hell broke loose. Daredevil locked into a fist fight with Shocker, and the sound of him smacking him silly with his baton rang out repeatedly. Deadpool singled out Mysterio and was laughing insanely while striking him with a mixture of punches, kicks, and jabs from his twin swords. Wanda wrenched the Vulture into the ground, threw the police car into Octavius' gut, and blasted Electro into a streetlight with energy from her hands. As the Vulture struggled to his feet, Black Cat slashed through his eye lenses and snagged a grappling hook to his wing.

"Get away from me!" Toomes screeched, kicking her to the ground. "You're not worth my time!"

"You forget, tweety bird," Cat retorted smoothly, yanking him down and ramming her foot into his face, "us pussy cats eat budgies like you for breakfast."

To get a boost, Spider-Man pushed off the Vulture's head and dropped on to the Rhino's thick shoulders. He grabbed at his tiny form like a gorilla trying to catch a flea, but Peter ducked and dodged with ease.

"You little creep! Get off!" He groped at the air in attempt to snatch him, but his arms were far too bulky from all their metal reinforcements to twist and bend normally, leaving the small of his back safe for Spidey.

"Good grief, rawhide. It's bad enough you've got the sex appeal of a beached walrus, but now you've gone and slapped a bunch of extra mass on top of your already blubbery thighs and love handles? Learn geometry, man."

"Insult me all you want! I'll still tear you apart!" He shook his thick form about, but Peter's sticky fingers were adhered to his exterior like glue.

"Fair point," he mused, evading his oversized fingers with a jerk. Then he flipped on to his arm and reared back his fist, "but that'll be a lot harder to do without these."

He swung a powerful punch into the rocket launcher on his shoulder, sending shards of metal pinging to the ground. When that wasn't strong enough, he curled his fingers around the nozzle and squeezed with his might. With a pop and a hiss, the hollow cylinder collapsed into itself, destroying the deadly weapon. A meaty hand came flying at him, and he leapt on to his other shoulder and did the same thing.

"Agh! Stop! My stuff!"

"Here's a tip: after firing your deadly little missiles, it's probably in your best interest to retract the canons back inside the armor. You know, so they can't be damaged?" He hopped on to his monstrous forearm and tore out the launching canister there. "Boy, if Stark could see how pitifully improper your use of his tech is, he'd probably throw up in his mouth."

"Well the joke's on you, bug brat! I've still got one rocket launcher left!" He lifted his right fist to point at Spider-Man, and a fourth and final mechanism rose from the exoskeleton. The missile shifted into position, and Peter sprung off his wrist and stuck to his chest.

"You'll have to shoot yourself to shoot—" he began, when a hand grabbed on to his ankle and flung him to the ground. He landed harshly, right between the Rhino's legs, and gasped as the monstrous man raised his foot over his head.

Yikes! he thought, rolling out of the way just before it could flatten his brain like a pancake. The instant he was on his back, he squirted a glob of webbing from his wrist, which splattered over the Rhino's eye lenses. He roared in blind frustration.

"Don't have to shoot you anyhow!" he bellowed, and aimed his last canon down at the ground. "Just gotta shoot near you!" The rocket launched without direction, and Peter yelped in alarm. He sprung from the concrete just as it exploded beneath him, and pain flared across his skin. He fired a web-line on instinct, and it latched on to the overpass just to their right. The silk grew taut as he dangled limply—panting, sweating, and partially barbecued for the second time that day—when he heard O'Hirn cry in surprise. He glanced back just in time to see his clunky body fall through the street into the hole his attack had created, and he tumbled into the sewers below with a quaking crash. Despite the pain he was in, Peter chuckled lightly to himself. Ha. Stupid head. Not really one to talk, but still.

Spider-Man dropped himself back on to the road, rubbing at the back of his leg as he walked past the crater. O'Hirn laid far below in the sludgy stream, steam rising off his body, out cold. The symbiote spread back over his burned skin, and Peter sighed slowly. Okay. Yay. One down. Wish I had time to celebrate, but I've got four friends who—

"Could use a little help over here!" Matty called out, his voice strained. He swung his billy club hard against Shocker's head, but it bounced off uselessly, granting Montana a second of leverage. Shocker struck his gauntlet into Daredevil's stomach and fired an energy pulse straight into his gut. Peter internally winced as Matthew was blasted away, and he slammed into the ground with an agonized moan. That had to freaking hurt. Ignoring the protests of his own injuries, Peter bolted towards Shocker, hooking a web-cable into a sign overhead.

"Gangway, banana face!" he shouted, buoying on the silk strand and sticking his feet out in front of himself. But Montana aimed his fist at Peter as he swung towards him and shot an air blast into his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He was flung backwards, and he collided into Daredevil quite ungracefully. The two spilled down the curved landscape, stopping just before pavement became concrete. Matthew crawled to his knees with a groan, and Peter kicked his jumbled limbs confusedly before rolling off his back.

"Gee, thanks," Daredevil groused, clutching his stomach in pain. "You know what's kind of essential to a surprise attack? The whole element of surprise. Ugh."

"Who said it was—ow—a surprise attack?" Peter joked, panting harshly. "And anyways, I've got a—look out!"

Spider-Man kicked Daredevil out of the way just as a bolt of blue lightning struck the ground between them. The jagged beam redirected into Peter's body, making him cry sharply and his suit twitch with discomfort.

"Gotcha now, web-slinger!" Electro laughed, walking up to stand at Shocker's side. "Together, we'll fry you into oblivion!"

"Oh y-yeah?" Spider-Man tried to retort. "Well, we'll do something…cooler than that…together," he stumbled dazedly to his feet and glanced over at Matthew. "R-right, D?"

"I think Frank knows how to be a team player better than you do," Matty groaned while standing upright. "But sure. Something like that."

Shocker blasted a beam of energy at Matthew, and he sprung to avoid it, landing back-to-back with Peter. "Alright, kid. What is it that you've got?"

"A plan," he replied, "involving that weird little stick of yours. Is the cord inside of it made of metal?"

"Yeah. Twenty feet of steel cable."

"Good. I'll keep them busy. While they're distracted, throw one end at Electro. I'll take it from there." With that, Spider-Man jumped on to the curvy lamppost parked beside them and crawled to the top, leaving Daredevil down below.

"So really, you have, like, a quarter of a plan," he grumbled, flipping away from another deadly energy blast. "Got it."

While Matthew ran around to the other side of the evil duo, Peter perched on top of the skinny pole and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey! Blue raspberry and sour lemon! I'm pretty sure Pop Rocks pack a bigger punch than the both of you combined!"

"Wanna bet, pipsqueak?" Electro hissed, spouting more and more lightning bolts his way. Spider-Man twirled and spun a million different directions to keep from being zapped, even more so when Shocker joined the fun with his weaponized gauntlets.

"Good gravy, you guys are worse than Storm Troopers. Why not just quit the whole villain life and start your own candy business? You could even star as the company's mascots!" Hurry up, Matty, was what he was really thinking, however, feeling himself grow more and more fatigued.

An air blast suddenly collided with the pole beneath him, severing it entirely, and Peter jumped on to what remained of the bottom. But at the same time, Electro fired a beam of electricity into the lamppost, and Spider-Man was jarred with agony. His hold faltered, and he dropped to the concrete, the broken pole landing on his back.

"Ha! We got him!" Electro exclaimed. The two of them stepped towards the downed hero, who was moaning feebly.

"Now let's squash us this pest once and for all," Shocker growled. He and Electro aimed their hands at Peter together, and his spidey sense rang like an air horn.

"Gangway!" Matthew's voice called from behind them. Both enemies looked over their shoulders in surprise. Peter recognized it as his signal, and forced himself to his feet. With all his strength, he flung himself over the evil duo, right as Daredevil separated the dual billy clubs and threw one at Electro. Just as it hit his armor, Spider-Man fired a glob of webbing from his wrist, which sprawled over the tip of the baton and the metal, leaving it stuck to his back. With a flip, Peter landed beside Matthew, breathing heavily.

"What the—?" Electro stammered.

"M'kay, that was productive," Matty noted. "So now what do we—?"

Before he could finish, Spider-Man snagged the other half of the club from his hands, cocked it back like a baseball, then threw it to the right of the baddies at a very wide angle. The device swung around Electro and Shocker, then around again, and again, and again. With the weight of the baton at the end, the steel cord began wrapping the two together like a tether ball, growing thicker and tighter by the second. When the cable neared its end, Peter grabbed it out of the air and webbed it the back of Electro's leg. The pair were left squished together like pigs in a blanket, squirming and cursing in disbelief.

Matty tilted his head to the side. "Huh. That's more like it."

"What in blazes?" Shocker cried, wrenching his body about helplessly. "What did yah do, Max?"

"G-get us out! Get me out of here!" Electro begged.

"Don't get yer britches in a twist, boy. I'll break us free." Shocker clenched his fists at his sides, and green energy buzzed from his hands. The cord didn't break, however—Electro did. The pulses radiating from Shocker's gauntlets went straight into him, breaking his unstable form apart from the inside. In panicked response, Electro exploded with electricity, and both of them screamed.

"Stop it, Shocker! Stop it! You're hurting me!"

"Gaaah! S-stop! El-l-lectro!"

More energy erupted from his gauntlets, which resulted in more electricity shooting out from Electro's body. His cries quickly tapered off, and Shocker dropped to his knees, unconscious. Unlucky for the both of them, one of his gloves was malfunctioning from the rush of electric power and continued to radiate with wild energy. With his shapeless structure crumbling, Electro's armor fell away from him, and his blue light scattered about frantically. Daredevil and Peter realized what was happening and what needed to be done at the same time, and both rushed towards the scene. Yelling with a mixture of pain and effort, Matthew punched at while Peter pulled on Shocker's busted gauntlet. The metal connecting the weapon to the armor began to crack beneath Daredevil's fists, and despite the terrible agony it caused him to hold on to the buzzing device, he didn't let go and continued to tug at it relentlessly. With their combined strength, they managed to finally rip the gauntlet free, right as Electro escaped his metal prison. Shocker collapsed into a heap of cable and damaged armor, limp as a noodle.

"Free!" Electro cried, pooling his neon form back together. "Stupid redneck! Who needed him or that bulky armor anyway!" He turned on Daredevil and Spider-Man menacingly, rising from the pavement, glowing with rage. "All I've ever needed to kill you is me, myself, and I!"

"Well, that hasn't worked out v-very well for you in the past, sparky," Peter pointed out, "and this time around isn't looking so hot either."

Coming in from behind, Daredevil threw the pulsing gauntlet into Electro's body, and the reaction was instant. His brilliant figure sunk and disbanded, unable to keep its form. Maxwell screeched and roared, scrambling to galvanize himself back together, but he was unsuccessful, and trapped. Like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz when doused in water, Electro slowly melted to the pavement, whimpering piteously. As long as the gauntlet continued its turbulent surging, Max Dillon was not going anywhere, or hurting anyone else.

"That's three of them," Matthew stated relievedly, walking around the seething mass of Maxwell to Peter's side. "We outnumber the freaks now. Nice work."

"Y-yeah," Spider-Man huffed, watching the symbiote cover over his hands again. "You too. Spidey and DD. We're pretty…c-cool together, right?"

"Hey, kid. You okay?" He was slouched over with a hand gripping his chest, gulping breaths down raggedly. He could hear the young hero's heart pounding into his ribcage, and he was fairly certain his stomach was growling. He must be exhausted.

"Uh-huh," he sputtered out, gingerly erecting his spine. "Just a little…winded is all."

"I see now how you manage to end up the way you did," Daredevil snorted, scooping his billy club off the ground and zipping it back together. "You can take a breather if you need it. I think we can handle the rest of these clowns."

"No," he insisted quickly. He forced the life back into his stiff muscles. "I'm good. This is my mess. And…we've still got fliers." He glanced around the torn up battlefield. "Where's Bird Brain and Cat?"

At that moment, his spidey sense throbbed inside his head, and he ducked as the Vulture came streaking just above them. Toomes was twisting and bobbing like a crippled seagull, with Cat clinging to his back for dear life. The whir of the engine whistled as they past.

Peter sighed exasperatedly. "Right. I've got her. You go help Deadpool." With a painful running start, he stuck a silk thread from his wrist to the bottom of the underpass and whipped around the corner, hot in pursuit.

The Vulture zipped between buildings wildly, face diced with scratches, doing everything he could do get the accursed girl off his back. He spun and turned, dropped and flipped, but she wouldn't budge. Her claws were hooked deep into his armor, and her hold would not break. She was determined to bring him down—and she could, if she could only reach his shoulders. But she was also not in the mood to fall to her death.

"You're asking for it, princess!" Toomes spat, banking around a skyscraper as fast as he could go. The shimmery glass whisked just inches from her head, and she flattened her body as low as possible, when her hand suddenly slipped. She managed to stay on with a wild grab at his metal skin, but her legs were hanging in empty space, and her arms were aching. Seizing the opportunity, the Vulture swerved away from the building and spun completely upside-down. Cat dropped from his back with a yelp, holding on by one claw while the rest of her body dangled beneath him vulnerably.

"The thrill ride's over with, and so is your interference with our plans!" He kicked her in the arm, slicing a talon through her flesh, and she let go of with a cry of pain. Frantically she snagged her grappling hook from her belt and fired it up at the Vulture, but he smacked it away with a whisk of his wing, and the cord trailed uselessly through the sky. Black Cat free fell towards the dark earth in silent panic.

Before she could strike the pavement, however, a figure zipped by and caught her around the waist, making her gasp in surprise. They swung back into the air on lines of black webbing.

"Gotcha!" Spider-Man exclaimed, wincing a little. "Heh, never thought I'd be saving the little kitty from the big mean bird."

Exhaling with quivery relief, she wrapped an arm around his back. "Whew boy. Thanks, spider. I thought I was roadkill for sure." She kicked her leg in the air and planted a kiss on his cheek. "My little hero."

The Vulture was circling overhead, seething with frustration. Peter whipped back around on a thread of webbing and pulled them towards a tall, flat building.

"It's me he wants. Why don't I put you down where falling to your doom isn't a possibility?"

"No," she replied firmly. "I can help you. I know how to beat him."

"Your arm looks pretty bad," he pointed out. The dark fabric around the gash was wet with blood.

"I doubt you're looking any better under that weird costume of yours, swinger," she retorted, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "And anyway, I want to get him back."

The two dropped on top of the tower, and Toomes came speeding towards them. He flung a bunch of feather-knives as he swooped from above, and Cat and Spidey jumped out of the way as they rained across the roof.

"What's the play?" Peter asked her. The Vulture curved back around, preparing for another attack.

"We've got to kill his power source. A suit like that has got to have a relatively big one, right?"

"Oh. Right." Tony Stark had created his fancy arc reactors to power his Iron Man suits. Even if these bozos weren't using them for much more than extra protection, and not nearly to the degree that Stark did, there had to be something cycling power through them to keep them running. Especially for the case of keeping crotchety grandpa airborne. He felt a bit stupid for not thinking of that first.

"No power, no flight. Turn the Vulture into the Penguin."

"Exactly."

"So what do you think it is?"

She retrieved a trio of metal disks from her belt and gripped them between her fingers. "Water."

As the Vulture streaked by, she threw the tiny weapons at the back of his head. They bounced off of him rather ineffectively, but not without making him flinch harshly and twist to guard his neck.

"Water? You mean it's hydraulic?"

"I think so. At least partially. There's a small tank on his shoulders with tubes snaking out into every area of his suit. It looked pretty well protected during my little joy ride, but I'm sure a young, robust superhero such as yourself could crack it."

Peter glanced at her, then back at the Vulture, still panting lightly. He could see the tank from here as Toomes twisted through the sky, and it did look suspiciously like the most fortified part of the armor. "Huh. Maybe." He could probably break it, with a solid minute of squeezing and yanking and struggling at full strength.

Or...he could try a different approach.

Smiling skittishly, he tapped Cat on the shoulder. "Hey. Could I borrow your gloves for a sec?"

The Vulture looped around and dove towards the dark hero standing in the middle of the rooftop. He grinned sinisterly, curling the talons at the end of his feet. "Stand still, my prey!"

No thanks. Just before he could snatch him like a mouse, Peter jerked out of the way, and the Vulture whooshed past him. Planting his sticky feet firmly to the roof, Spider-Man fired a web-line on to the tank, waited for it to stretch taut, then let himself fly. He soared through the air and grabbed on to Toomes' ankle, causing him to curse irritably.

"You just don't get it! You foolish children will never bring me down!" He kicked his leg about violently, then latched his other foot's talons into Peter's shoulder. The shock that followed shook him to the bone, but he refused let go. Spider-Man tore the talon from his skin and flung it away, then dragged himself on to the Vulture's back. The wind roared in his ears.

"You may be the oldest geezer here, bud," he hissed between his teeth, clawing his way up to the thick tank, "but out of all of us, you have the absolute worst manners." When he was relatively steady, Peter pulled the rest of his body underneath him, then stared down at his hands. With a word to the symbiote, the black slime retreated down to his wrists, revealing the dark gloves he had on underneath. Balancing solely on his sticky feet, Spider-Man flexed all his fingers at once, and razor-sharp claws unsheathed at the tip of every digit. He grinned, then curled them around the silver cylinder.

"No! Wait! What are you doing?"

"So on behalf of all of us foolish children—" Spider-Man chuckled, and grasped the tank with all his might. His super strength helped buckle the metal, while the steel claws punctured the thick tube within seconds. Liquid began to spirt from the holes, and Toomes quickly began to slow. The engine sputtered to death, and the two of them started to drop.

"—Toomes, you're grounded."

"No! How could you? No!" They fell freely, and Peter let him spiral towards the unforgiving earth a few more seconds just for giggles. But eventually, he snagged a web-line to the bottom of Toomes' foot, hooked one on to the neighboring building, then swung back to the roof.

"Come now, Adrian. Don't throw a tantrum. It's for your own good."

Peter threw the Vulture on top of the flat skyscraper, then dropped beside his crumpled form. From both of his wrists, Spider-Man coated his body in black webbing, transforming him into a beautiful, wriggly cocoon of evil.

"Well, well, ugly," Cat purred, stooping over him triumphantly. "Not so flippy and fluttery now, are yah?"

"I will kill you for this! Both of you! When I get of this, I'll come for you, and tear the life right out of your—!"

Cat punched him through his broken eye mask, right in the forehead, and he was out. She reeled back with an angry huff, and Peter blinked in amazement.

"Sorry. I needed that."

"No, heh, it's all good. I'd say he earned it."

She drew her hand to her chest and rubbed at it bitterly, flicking bloody glass from her knuckles. "Hurt me like hell, though. Should've put my gloves back on before swinging."

Peter grinned. "Yeah. These are awesome." The symbiote peeled away to reveal the deadly claws once again, and he slashed at the air ferociously. "I feel so wild and untamable. And I have a terrible urge to sing through the entire Meow Mix theme song. Or that Nyan Cat one." He pawed at her playfully. "Nyah. Meow. Do you ever get that urge?"

"No," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "Alright, you've had your fun. Hand 'em over."

Regretfully, Peter gave Black Cat her gloves back, then scooped up his bird cocoon under one arm. "Let's head back to the others now." He turned his back towards her. "Hop on."

"Ooh, don't mind if I do," she giggled, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Grimacing from the added stress on his already over-strained body, Spider-Man leapt off the rooftop and swung gingerly towards the Hudson.

---

"What do we do?"

"Where'd all these freaks come from? Again?"

"Where're the Avengers?"

"We can't shoot at them. It wouldn't do any good. And we might hit a civilian, or Spider-Man."

"So? Spidey's a menace. I'd snipe the bastard right now if I had a clear shot."

"Wait, where? I don't see any Spider-Man."

"He's right there, fighting that dude with the snow globe head."

"What? You're clowning. Since when has Spider-Man used swords?"

A tentacle suddenly slammed into the red hero's gut, and he skidded right to the officers' feet. They flinched with alarm, fingering their guns.

"Oh sweet Canada. I think my stomach just fell out of my butt."

"Uh…Spider-Man?" the policeman behind him stammered dimly. "Are—are you alright?"

The red man stood with a groan, picking up his katanas, then stared at the officer with his head to the side. "Huh? Oh! You think I'm—ahaha. Right. Yep, that's a-me. Thwip thwip and all that sh*t." A chunk of rubble was sticking out of his chest, and he ripped it free without hesitating, spewing blood all over the ground. They stared at him with a mixture of horror and confusion.

"Did you…just…?"

"Anyhow, back into the fray." He noticed a few young children gathered beside the policemen along the barricade, and he jabbed a finger at them sharply. "Drink your school and stay in milk, kiddos! Now watch your favorite neighborhood web-squirter kick some major ass. Maximum effort!"

They snickered into their hands, and Deadpool sprinted back towards Mysterio and Doctor Octopus, who were teamed against Daredevil and Wanda Maximoff. At that same moment, the real Spider-Man came swinging back to the scene, and dropped a mummified Vulture and a windswept Black Cat to the ground.

"Oh now you show up," Wade muttered, slashing at a swarm of poison darts that came zipping his way. "You two better not have been off making spider-kitties somewhere."

Peter could see that Wanda Maximoff was lacerated with her fair share of cuts and bruises, but she wasn't giving in. She bashed Doc Ock over the head with a trash can, spilling garbage all over his body and making him shriek with rage, but he doubled back with a sweep of his tentacles, raking her side with the jagged claws.

"Banter later! Help Wanda!"

"Cadent in vestri genua!"

Thick, green gas began to pour from Mysterio's wrists, bathing the battlefield in smog. The cloud swallowed Deadpool, Matty, Octavius, and Wanda.

"You idiot!" Doctor Octopus screamed as it flooded over him. "My face mask is broken! Ack!"

Bouts of coughing began to burst from inside the smoke. Peter didn't know what was in the fumes, but he knew he had to get his friends out of it. He listened intently, distinguishing the voices from one another and pinpointing their locations, then shot two web-lines into the cloud. When he felt the threads meet their marks, he whipped his arms back. A pair of figures were ripped from the smog and came tumbling down the street, hacking into their hands. Black Cat ran to their aid as Spider-Man retrieved the last victim, then joined them at her side.

"Wanda? You okay?"

She wheezed harshly, squeezing her eyes shut, then swallowed. "Y-yeah. I protected myself for the most part. Just a little…woozy. I'll be fine."

"Ugh. My head's spinning," Matthew moaned between coughs. "My senses…can't focus 'em. Dammit. Must be some kind of sedative. Or hallucinogen."

"Hallucinogen? Oh no!" Deadpool cried from Black Cat's lap, grappling at the empty air. "I'm—I'm seeing things! Big, round things! Balloons, beach balls, bouncing everywhere, all over my face!" Then he grabbed her chest. "Oh. Never mind. Those are just boobies."

He was dumped in the dirt with a stripe of claw marks across his face in about two seconds. Peter helped Daredevil and Wanda to their feet, right as Doctor Octopus burst from the smoke cloud in front of them, hacking bitterly. Mysterio followed behind him, laughing like a maniac.

"Bow to the power of the arcane arts, heathens!"

"Arcane arts my ass," Matthew growled. "All that smoke is coming from canisters built inside the armor under his forearms. Only magical this about him is his unbelievable ability to piss me off."

"How do you know that?" Peter asked, helping support him with an arm around his back.

"The sound. Just before he releases anything, I can hear panels under his arms shift to open the pressurized compartments. And all the gas tastes slightly metallic, meaning it must be held in metal canisters."

Spider-Man blinked. "Uh…alrighty then, Sherlock. I'll take your word for it." Then he narrowed his eyes. "Huh. Pressurized canisters…"

A slew of darts came flying their way, but Wanda protected them behind a wall of flickering energy. At that instant, Peter felt a lightbulb go off in his head.

"Wanda, how well can you aim your powers?"

She dropped the shield with a swipe of her hands. "Fairly well, if I have focus."

"Can you manipulate something even if you can't see it?"

"Um. Maybe." She glanced at him curiously. "Why do you ask?"

Peter nodded towards Mysterio, who was marching their way. "Fishbowl-Face's evil gases are stored inside cans in his armored sleeves. If you could somehow worm your powers in there and break those cans from the inside…"

A small smirk pulled at the side of her mouth. "Ah, I see. I am on it."

"You petty mortals shall rue the day you picked a fight with the great and powerful Mysterio! Manducare stercore!"

Clouds of black gas began to spew from both of his wrists. But before they could reach them, Wanda stretched her powers down the road and locked in on the source of the smoke. In her mind, she pictured the canisters caving in on themselves, lysing. The flow of thick smog was suddenly cut short, and Mysterio's arms went rigid.

"W-what's this?" he gawked, his hands quaking. "What do you think you are—?"

She twisted the seething energy in her hands, then ripped it apart. At the same moment, a loud pop could be heard, and thin streams of gas began to burst through his armor, hissing shrilly.

"W-what have you done? Aagh!" More pockets were forming in the metal as the seconds passed, cascading down his body and releasing more and more colorful fumes. A rainbow fog was growing around him, when Peter noticed his white snow globe head was starting to darken, and the man inside began to cough and claw at it frantically. "Gah! My helmet! It's f-flooding with gas! Can't—c-can't—gaaah!"

He scrambled about like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to rip the bowl from his head, and Peter walked up to him amusedly. He tripped him with his foot, took hold of his helmet, and tore it clean off with one sharp yank. Smoke swirled from his suit, and he wheezed weakly, eyes rolling back into his head.

"Is this the part where I say something about you getting a taste of your own medicine or whatever?" he chuckled, punting the helmet away. The great Mysterio, who was nothing more than your regular Joe-shmo in a stupid costume, was too fainted to respond.

"I can't…believe this…"

Spider-Man lifted his gaze to their sixth and final enemy, the last one standing. He was leaned against a building, breathing raggedly, hollow eyes staring across the barren road. His mechanical arms appeared droopy and defeated.

"My plan: it was perfect. The world was within my grasp. And you…you took it. You took it all away from me." His gaze fell upon Spider-Man, who stood among the rubble and the smoke like a dark ghost. "How…?"

"What can I say, Doc?" Peter replied with a shrug, eyeing his friends over his shoulder. "Never underestimate the power of a team who all showed up rocking the same sick red-and-black color scheme with no pre-coordination whatsoever."

The wistful sadness in his eyes vanished steadily, like a cloud blocking out the sun, and his face skewed into a scowl of pure rage. "You're…a joke. You always have been. Nothing more than wise-cracking imbecile who somehow obtained powers staggeringly unworthy of your feeble merit." Gritting his teeth, he pushed off the wall with his fists clenched at his sides. "I can't…no, I won't. Otto Octavius will not be defeated by you, or your witless followers! Not now or ever!"

The limp metal arms suddenly sprung to life from his back, plunging into the pavement and lifting him from the ground. "Who needed those dispensable pawns anyway? They only got in the way of my plans. And I have my own invariable army at my will to command!" He cast his gaze across the heroes standing before him, furious sweat pouring down his face. "I applaud all of you on your success at forcing me to revert to these measures. Now my creations will remove you from the equation, leaving nobody but Doctor Octopus left to devour this city whole."

Before Peter could consider what the mad scientist was alluding to, he felt his spidey sense begin ringing inside his head. He spun back towards the river just as a bunch of robotic octopus-looking things came bursting from the water and skittering towards them like an infantry of daddy longlegs. Their tentacles were armed with jagged prongs, which scraped across the concrete as they sped along the earth.

Oh look. He did build a robot army. Screw me and my jinxed foresight.

The octo-bots swarmed into the road, and his team sprung into action. Fists swung, feet kicked, and metal flew. Daredevil, still a bit crippled from the gas, was being bullied by three robots lashing at him from all sides, and Black Cat leapt to his aid with a whirlwind of deadly punches. Deadpool pulled a handgun from his hip and was blasting the drones to bits, while Wanda was tearing them apart with her telekinesis. Hoping they could cope with that issue themselves, Peter gunned straight for Octavius and gabbed on to one of his tentacles. He ripped it out from underneath him and whipped the appendage over his head, then swung it down hard against the ground, bringing the rest of the doctor with it. Ock crashed into the pavement with a grunt, but was up in an instant, and slashed a claw across his back as Spider-Man tried to jump out of the way. His skin burned where the deep gashes were striped across his flesh, and Peter grimaced painfully as he landed in a crouch.

"It seems I'm not the only one who's upgraded their tech," Ock noted slyly, watching Spider-Man's black costume move to conceal the bloody cuts on his back. "Your new suit interests me, arachnid. It seems to assist you in battle, and have a conscience of its own. I shall enjoy peeling it away from your lifeless body for further study."

Spider-Man latched a silk-line to Doctor Octopus' face and yanked him to the earth like a dog with a leash. While sprawled flat for an instant, he leapt over his fallen form and pinned the metal arms down with webbing from his wrists. Just as he dropped on top of his back, planning to pummel him out of his wits, he felt something grab on to his leg from behind.

"W-what the—?"

"Spider-Man, watch out!"

He found the perpetrator to be an octo-bot, and he quickly kicked it off. But another came and clamped on to his arm, and a third seized him around his ribcage. He realized that half of the robots pouring out of the water were fighting his friends as the rest were splitting off and targeting him. While he was distracted, Doctor Octopus tore free of his bondage and knocked Peter off his back, right into the sea of octo-bots. Their devious tentacles hooked and gripped and coiled around every part of his body, leaving him terribly claustrophobic and completely immobilized. There was just enough space between the robots swarming on top of him for Peter to see Ock snapping the ends of one arm together to stab through his stagnant form.

He lunged. The sound of flesh being pierced rang in Peter's ears. But no pain followed, and Spider-Man opened his eyes to find the three deadly prongs sitting mere inches from his chest. They were dripping with blood, and tangled in a mess of body mass and internal organs. The silhouette of a red figure stood over him, octo-bots hanging off either of his arms.

"Good golly gee! Death by impalement? For a cephalopod who's supposed to have three hearts, you're awfully rude."

Peter felt his stomach turn inside-out. "W-Wade?" he stammered, white as a ghost beneath his dark mask. Thick, crimson fluids were pouring from the mercenary's punctured body—more than just blood—and pooling at their feet. It was like something out of a horror movie. He grinned cheerfully at him over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, broski! I won't let the ugly Oswald stick yah!"

Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus both flushed green. "You…you're a freak," Octavius said bluntly. "Even more than he is. But no matter. His death is not something you can prevent."

The tentacle jutting out of Deadpool's body lurched forward and seized Peter by the waist, drenching his torso with slimy, sickening warmth. He choked down a gag as he was ripped from the octo-bots' grasp, and Octavius scaled the wall of the building by the street.

"I'll kill you. I'll tear you apart for the whole city to see. Then they'll know," he heard him murmur maniacally under his breath. They approached the roof, and as the arm clutching Peter dangled towards the earth, Wade's punctured body slipped down the length of the tentacle and squished against him.

"This is not going how I imagined," Deadpool admitted, trying to scoop his organs back into the gaping cavity in is stomach. "Except for the part where you're unintentionally spooning me."

Peter was too distracted by his approaching doom and the entrails spilling over him like hot spaghetti to care about that part of their predicament. "Oh God…h-how are you—? I th-think I'm gonna p-puke…" He grappled at the prongs shakily, trying to pry himself free, but his hands kept slipping across the slimy metal, which was greased with Wade's blood. "We've g-gotta…I can't break his hold."

"Oh! I think I've got something that will!" Deadpool reached down to his utility belt and retrieved a round object from one of the pouches. With one quick movement, he ripped out the pin and flicked off the cap. "How 'bout a hand grenade?"

Spider-Man's eyes went wide. "W-what? No! You're going to blow us up!"

"Whoops, too late! Fire in the hole!" Deadpool exclaimed, then chucked the bomb at the back of Doctor Octopus' head. Right as he rounded the crown of the tower, the grenade went off, showering Peter and Wade with painful heat and sending Octavius flying. His grip didn't falter, however, until all three of them had flipped over the rooftop and smashed through the wall of a neighboring building. Spider-Man tumbled to the floor and crashed into a rock-hard surface, his brain throbbing dazedly. Feet scattered away from him with a choir of screams, and plates shattered against tile.

"Ugh…my head," he grimaced, grasping the rail above him and pulling himself upright. Well, at least my aching skull is distracting me from my unsettled stomach. He swiped the gooey blood off his chest with a nauseous cough, then blinked around the room groggily.

They had fallen into a very small restaurant with colorful decor and mariachi music blaring overhead. Terrified diners and waiters gawked at the strange intruders disbelievingly, food still hanging off their forks and in their mouths. Doctor Octopus had smashed into the kitchen, where his arms were wreaking havoc on the next round of entrees.

"Sweet pico and guac, I am in heaven!" Peter heard a voice cry, and turned to see Deadpool sprawled out on one of the tables, rolling in the food like it was snow. The couple seated there looked horrified, and he pointed to the chimichanga the woman held a few inches from her lips. "You going to finish that, hun?"

He took their shrieking and fleeing as a yes, and immediately started pigging out, despite the fact that there was still a hole where his stomach should be. At that moment, Doc Ock came barreling through the salad bar, eyes wild and fists clenched.

"No more, arachnid! No more foolishness or patronization! Show yourself, or I'll kill every soul inside this anemic rathole!"

Hopping on to the counter, Peter scooped up a handful of tomatoes from a bowl and punched them into his face. "Everyone get out of here! Now!"

People rushed towards the exits in a mad dash, while Spider-Man fought against the eight-limbed super villain. He snatched a platter off the floor, wove through the snaking tentacles like a monkey through the jungle, then backhanded Octavius across the mouth with it. While fazed, Spider-Man picked him up and chucked him to the other side of the restaurant. His thick body plowed through chairs and tables, and half-eaten food splattered all over his armor. He swooped a tentacle at the skinny hero's legs, trying to knock his feet out from under him, but Peter jumped over it and stuck to the wall above Ock's head. He rammed his heel into the back of his neck, and Octavius face-planted into the ground. He sprung on to his back, took hold of one of the arms, and pulled with all his might. With a metallic shriek and a jarring pop, the tentacle tore from its roots, and Doctor Octopus screamed like he had ripped his actual limb off.

"N-no! Not my arms! Aagh!" He rolled rapidly on to his stomach, slammed a tentacle into Peter's ribs, and pinned him to the wall with the claw over his hand. Before Spider-Man could wrench himself free, a second arm came flying and stabbed its prongs into his shoulder, and he cried in agony.

"This is what you get! This is what you deserve, boy!"

"W-why are you doing this?" Peter asked pleadingly. "Seriously, Doc! What will you get when this is over with? What'll this accomplish? There's nothing to gain, no prize to win! You're just senselessly hurting people, with no reason whatsoever!"

His cold glare transformed into a sinister smile. "Nothing to gain? How about payback? You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, hero?" He twisted the claw buried in his skin, and Peter threw his head back with a weak scream. "Do you know how long the world has cast me aside, treated me like dirt, disregarded my genius? Now, they won't have a choice but to worship and fear me. They will finally see the real Otto Octavius—as he deserves to be seen—and Hydra, you, and your little team will be nothing but a memory trampled in the dust of time. This is real power, Spider-Man: the power of my unparalleled mind. And I'm going to use what it created to destroy you. Say goodbye to your pitiful life and purposeless—aaagh!"

Deadpool stood on his shoulders with red bottle gripped in his hand. "Yummy yummy! How does el salsa diablo taste when poured directly into your eyeballs? I'd guess just about as good as a condom dipped in sulphuric acid!"

"Gaaah! My eyes! My eyes!" Doctor Octopus stumbled backwards blindly, gripping his face in his hands. Peter fell from the wall with a groan, Deadpool landed beside him, and they both watched their enemy screech and stagger around the restaurant. In the haze of his pain, Spider-Man eyed a large light fixture dangling overhead, and he tapped Wade on the leg.

"Sword," he said haggardly, holding out his hand.

"Sword?" Deadpool repeated, handing him one of his katanas. "Ooh, are you gonna cut his butt off?"

Without answering, he titled it over his head and flung it at the ceiling. The blade sliced cleanly through the chain, and the chandelier dropped. The crash was startling, and Doctor Octopus shrieked. When the air settled, and the mariachi music was audible one again, their great enemy was found sprawled across the floor, trapped beneath the spiky decoration, groaning. Peter dragged himself to his feet, holding his bloody shoulder sorely, while Wade scoffed at his side.

"Eh, not quite as cool, but I'll take it." He munched on a handful of chips as the yawning hole in his torso slowly began to close back together. Not wanting to risk anything, Spider-Man walked unsteadily to where Doctor Octopus lied and swung a punch to his temple, knocking him out. He followed by singling out the three remaining arms tangled in the chandelier and pulling them out of the harness on his back, one by one. By the last tentacle, he was shaking with effort, and when he finally ripped it free, he stumbled to the floor along with it. He was too tired to care, and allowed himself a moment just to lay there, panting heavily, his many wounds aching as they fought to heal. And in the strange, dark atmosphere of the restaurant, with the weird music overhead and the whirring police sirens just outside, where no other adversaries were left to try and kill him, the realization slowly began to settle over his exhausted mind.

They…had done it.

"Peter?"

Swallowing painfully, he opened his eyes to see Wanda standing over him. She was covered in dirt, scrapes, and dried blood, but nothing that looked too serious. She lifted the tentacle off his chest, and Black Cat knelt beside him and snaked an arm around his back.

"I'm—ouch—I'm okay guys," he assured them, wincing a little as he sat up. He glanced between them surprisedly. "What happened with the bots?"

"They all just kinda died a few minutes after you guys were blasted away," Daredevil explained, gripping his side with a pained expression. "We tore 'em all to bits just to be sure, though."

"The cops are gathering up the remains, along with all the baddies," Cat told him while prodding at a cut under her eye. "We should probably get away from here before they start asking questions."

Suddenly alarmed, Peter shook his head quickly. "No way. You can't trust the police. They're being paid off by Fisk. They'll just transport them to some secret base, and this whole mess will start all over again. We've got to take them somewhere secure ourselves, or get them to some cops who we are absolutely sure are—"

"I am," Matty interrupted him. "Trust me, kid. I called ahead to the 15th precinct. I have faith in the detective who operates there. His team will get these guys into whatever supermax hell they need to be in." He smirked slightly. "And I read all their heartbeats, just to be sure."

At that moment, a flood of policemen came pouring into the restaurant. One of them, with a shiny medal strung around his neck, gave a discreet nod to Daredevil, who returned in curtly. "Get this freak outta here and load him in the truck," the detective ordered. The four of them moved to the side as the officers took hold of the fallen doctor and dragged him across the tile and out of the diner. His hands and feet were cuffed, and his limp body was loaded into the flashing vehicle. Huh. Guess that's a relief, Peter concluded with a sigh. When the doors were sealed and locked, the truck sped away, along with five others. He assumed the oversized load one was carrying the Rhino. And, just like that, the Sinister Six were gone. The war was done.

Peter switched his gaze back to his team, and his eyes bounced between every one of his worn-down, battle-scarred friends. They had bloodied their fists and risked their lives, all for him. "I can't—I can't even put into words how grateful I am for you guys' help," he told them earnestly. "I would've died if you hadn't been here."

"Yeah, probably," Daredevil grinned.

"Most definitely," Wanda agreed.

"I tooold you," Wade snapped, crossing his arms over his chest like a sassy mother.

Black Cat shrugged. "Well, what did I tell yah, spider? You have a lot of people on your side, even if you don't know it, so it's okay if you need help. You don't have to fight your battles alone."

Chuckling softly, Peter offered them a genuine smile through his mask. Then, like an icy rock dropping into his stomach, he recalled the stinging loneliness he had felt at the beginning of the battle, and its devastating origin. The Avengers—his friends, his family—they...they were gone. Under no miraculous circumstance that his mind had tried to conjure could they could have survived that, no matter how vastly he stretched. In an instant, his joyful relief crumbled into nothing, and the elation their victory had granted him vanished from existence. He couldn't make himself go there, he realized. He couldn't see their bodies. What were the last words he had shared with all of them? What was he going to do now? What was he going to tell Fury, and Bruce, Coulson, the world...?

And that's when it struck him: this war wasn't over. Not yet. Not while the true culprit to all the death and suffering was still out there somewhere. Wilson Fisk was the think tank behind Hydra, the Sinister Six, and all of the corruption plaguing the shadows of New York. He was the real reason his friends were dead. If he wasn't exposed and brought in along with the rest of his evildoers, the horrors would never cease. Spider-Man had to find him. He had to confront him. He had to face him, and end him, once and for all.

Feeling himself suddenly grow hot with a familiar mixture of anger, pain, and despair, Peter turned to Wanda. "Hey. You worked for Fisk for a while, right? Do you know any places that he could be hiding right now?"

At the mention of his name, Wanda's face darkened uneasily. "Um...I am not sure. He has many secret safe houses, in and outside of this city." Then she painted on a smile. "But can we worry about that later? It is so late, and we should not spoil the great feat we have accomplished tonight."

"I know. But do you have any ideas that I can look into, for later?" It felt like his rage was injecting strength into his muscles, reawakening his tired senses.

"He buys lots of condemned buildings to do his dirty work in," Matty thought out loud.

"I've been to at least seven different locations that move and handle his operations' blood money," Black Cat chimed in.

"He has a really freaking fancy apartment a few miles away from here."

Peter, along with the rest of them, turned quickly to look Wade.

"What?"

Deadpool twirled his finger in the air. "Yeah. Huge apartment. Probably one of the most expensive in Hell's Kitchen. See, when this unknown number first started contacting me and offered me an insane amount of money to knife a few guys in the knapsacks, I got a teensy bit suspicious, so I traced one of the calls to make sure this dude wasn't yanking my tator tots. And, what do you know, I showed up at the location, and there he was: big, white ass sitting inside this mansion, plopped down at an enormous dinner table, sucking on a silver spoon, as happy as could be. Dude's hiding in plain sight—hardly hiding at all, really."

Peter blinked. "Are—are you serious? You have an exact address?"

"Totally! It's right at 500 west and 53rd street, apartment 7B. The door's got this really tacky but also kinda homely-ish gold trim around the edges. I had to maim, like, nine doormen just to stand by it."

"Oh," Black Cat exclaimed. "That's helpful."

"I've got to get this to Mahoney," Daredevil stated. "But first, we've got to find a way to trace everything that's happened back to him. I'll meet up with my legal team tomorrow, then let you guys know when we can make our move."

"Oh, yes! Perfect! I love these kinds of never-ending, crime boss-cracking, ass-twisting group things! What should we call ourselves? Spidey Doo and the Mystery Gang? The Toast-Busters? Cinco de Die-o? The Fantastic Five?"

"That works," Spider-Man said quickly to Matthew, then walked towards the large hole in the side of the restaurant. His body felt like it was bursting with an almost artificial type of energy, despite the exhaustion he swore was still present deep inside his bones. "Thanks again for your help, all of you. Sorry for getting you tangled in all this mess. Get yourselves patched up, and get some sleep."

The four of them watched the dark hero stagger out on to the sidewalk, rubbing absentmindedly at his shoulder. "No problem," Daredevil called. "Just be sure to take your own advice, kid."

"Today's been ridiculous, and we're all in need of one hell of a catnap."

"Don't worry, sweetheart! I won't let him gobble you up! One way or another, we'll finish that blubbery bastard off like a cheesecake!"

"This war will be over soon."

Peter stopped in the middle of the street, his blood feeling hot and powerful as it rushed under his skin. The air was heavy with overlaying sounds, buzzing lights, and dissipating smoke. It seemed, at that moment, that the symbiote was feeding off his poignant emotions, and returning the energy back into his system tenfold. He never felt stronger since it had bonded with him than when he was angry, and he had never felt such passionate anger with it enveloping his flesh until now. But rather than looking to his new friends for comfort in the wake of his loss, or swallowing down the rage so that it would not steer his mind and body, he felt it begin to consume him. And slowly, unknowingly, for the first time since accepting its power, he allowed it to happen.

The night was still young to a monster that never slept. Without a second thought, the black creature aimed its arm at a far-off tower stretching into the empty sky, and a line of webbing fired from the top of its hand.

"Yes. It will be."

---

Uh oh. Not good. If you actually made it to the end, congrats! Writing this was so fun and painful at the same time

I knew I had to get this chapter out today, because tomorrow I'm going on a mission trip to Haiti! (I'm lowkey scared so prayers for me please!) I got like mortally sick the last time so hopefully that doesnt happen again lol. And like right after that I'm going on a church retreat to colorado so even more time away from my story daaarn but hey for a good cause so yay :)

Hoped you somehow enjoyed this ridiculous chapter! I'll get to work on the next one asap! Thanks again for all your support! You guys are amazing :,) I just finished watching Finding Dory and I'm so emotional I need to go cry now...and pack. AND LOOK AT TOM HOLLAND SPIDEY PICS AAHH OKAY BYE LOVE U BLAH