Chapter 19
Warning: I do not own Spider-Man, nor this Story.
This story deserves to be available to readers to read, apologies for format if there is problem with the lines and sentences as it was pulled from a PDF.
19. Doubts
- Summary - 10 years after the bite, and he was reunited with the symbiote. He was separated from MJ, but he'd found another woman to lean on. With his newfound strength, he was ruthless; unstoppable even. It was too perfect to last when an old foe crept back, back and better than ever. All was not as it seemed with our hero. He was back in black, but not for long. -SpiderCat/SpiderSable-MA*
OoOoO Symkarian Speech OoOoO*
"Example…" - Normal, Speech said in English with or without a Symkarian accent
" Example… " - Italics, Speech is said in Symkarian
Doubts
- Norman Osborn - Underground Lair - 10:55PM -
In yet again another private laboratory, there Osborn stood, alongside Mysterio and a hand-select of scientists, opposite a containment cell. Inside, Walter Hardy, very frail and weary, though very angry, was strapped to a steel table that was set upright, parallel to the reinforced glass-walls of the cell, as the uneasy victim inside reluctantly tolerated what was happening and what was yet to come. He was hooked up to IV tubes connected to canisters full of Goblin-mutated Felidae DNA, which were full to the brim and were strapped to the table alongside Hardy. The thief-prisoner had reluctantly agreed to taking the experiment to ensure the safety of his daughter, so he did not dare try to resist his fate, and he gritted his teeth together, as he and Norman Osborn shared a tense stare. Hardy began to grind his clenched teeth amongst each other, and he didn't even notice how he was subconsciously wearing and tearing off his own enamel in the process. The containment cell was completely isolated and empty apart from the experiment in the centre of it, and the various computers and tubes set around the area. Hardy's upper body was naked, and his bulging spine
dug back into his skin every time he flinched from the stinging cold of the steel behind him. He clenched his jaw and cringed as he felt the IV syringes sink deep into his visible veins, and the electrical steel-straps tighten an etch further around his already-bruised wrists and damaged ankles. He grunted, sweat beginning to drip from his already-wet hair, and felt his chest heave in anger as Osborn smirked at him, knowing this whole experiment will benefit the Goblin, but will result in snake eyes for Walter Hardy.
"I've got to say, Walter," Norman Osborn began, as his scientists began walking over to the computers stationed around the cell, "I thought you'd be happier repaying the man who saved your life."
To that, Walter Hardy could feel a stitch pop from the scar in his head, as his anger grew from the inside-out, "Happy, Osborn?! You put a bomb in my daughter's blood! If you didn't have her life in your hands, I'd have just beat myself to death back in your cell!"
Feeling he has no use as of now, Quentin Beck took it upon himself to leave the room, to which, surprisingly to him, had no negative reaction from Osborn.
Cutting the conversation short, Norman Osborn simply put up a finger towards the ceiling, spinning it quickly in a circle to signal his scientists to begin the procedure, to which they obeyed. He stayed and watched for a few seconds as his scientists began typing away on the computers, the screens showing several diagrams and descriptions of DNA helices, with distorted images of predicted mutation outcomes. Norman smiled, turning around to leave, and with his back turned, he began to walk away, only stopping to say:
"See you in a while, cat, whilst I attend to other, more important problems, regarding my own health and wellbeing. Do enjoy the ride. It'll take a day or so," and then he continued on.
Just as Norman took his final step out of the room, the lead scientist hit a hot key on his keyboard, beginning the hazardous procedure, as soundproof, transparent shutters closed over the windows of the containment cell. Walter Hardy began to scream through a closed mouth and clenched teeth, as the
pistons from the canisters began to push its contents into the IV tube, the mutated DNA beginning to contaminate the red blood in Hardy's veins. He saw flashes of white and felt his head get light, feeling his pores swell up and ooze with heated sweat, as his muscles contacted while he struggled. He could almost feel the thickness of the serum getting plumpy within his veins, as it began to sink into his cells and their nuclei. The canisters were still filled to the brim, the piston ever-so-slowly pushing the liquid into the tubes. Walter let out a series of screams, before he blacked out from his lack of oxygen and intolerable pain. The scientists continued with the experiment, monitoring his vitals and any notable changes and break-throughs.
- Black Cat - Underground Lair - 11:00PM -
Black Cat arrived in the subway, reluctantly making her way back into the lair. Of course, if she wasn't a walking suicide bomber, she'd have left Osborn ages ago. The more she thought about Osborn's treatment towards her, his heartless, physically abusive, forceful and other physical treatment, the sweeter Peter's proposal for help began to sound. Hold on, were these doubts she began to have?
No, Felicia. Peter killed your dad, remember? He did. You saw it.
Surely not - she wasn't having any doubts, right? She could never trust Peter after pulling that kind of stunt. Wait - did he really though? Or was he telling the truth? Was it the symbiote? Was it Peter? No, no. Peter Parker clearly has his own mind, and he's strong enough to control the symbiote -not the other way around. Unless, maybe Peter really was unconscious, and it was the symbiote's natural defence mechanism. No, no. They share a mind. It's what they both wanted. It was Peter Parker, the SpiderMan. He killed your dad, Felicia. You were there when it happened. You saw that gnash in his head… That bleeding skull… All because of the man you once had feelings for. SpiderMan.
Felicia dismissed the thought of it, and reluctantly, slowly continued onwards, deeper into the underground. She could just up and leave, but she just didn't want to die. It sounds strange, coming from the thought process of a woman like her, who lives all for the thrill and danger of it, but usually
she is in control. This time, it's very different. This time, she is not in control. This time, her literal life is in the hands of a deranged, violent, egotistical, sadistic, sociopathic, and not to mention powerful, genetically-enchanced super-villain, that nearly decimated and murdered the SpiderMan on multiple occasions. She shivered at the mere thought of it, especially the part about her life being in the hands of a sadist. She remembers how traumatic and rough her encounter was last time; she could still feel the enhanced grip of his hands around both of her dented wrists, and the bruises of it all afterwards - not to mention the pain. She stood standing frozen in paralysis now - of fear and in shock - a crystal tear building up in the corner of her eye, and she wiped it away with the bridge of her thumb, not daring to let it roll down her cheek. She tried to set the memories aside now - it was either abuse or death. As bad as it was for her, death always seemed to be the scarier option in her mind - she wanted the longest life possible - there was nothing in death for her. Although, considering her position, she was now contemplating whether or not death was such a bad thing right now. Subconsciously, she had been traveling deeper and deeper into the lair, only now feeling the increasing heat of the underground, and walked until she arrived in the main lobby. She continued walking, crossing paths with Mysterio for a brief second, as she stared into his helmet, then looked straight and continued on to her cesspool of a room, climbing up and lying down on her uncomfortable, hard-wood bed, staring straight up as she either waited for her next order, or to sleep if she could. Either way, both were dangerous, her being where she is.
- Norman Osborn - Underground Lair - 11:05PM -
Now, then . Parker's currently living his best life, thanks to Mysterio's spell. Sable's gone scurrying back to Symkaria to regroup, and attempt to wake-up her ally. Brock should be dead. The Avengers are with the Fantastic Four in space - not that they were ever a threat to me, anyway. Walter Hardy's getting cosy, and make-me-Hardy won't try a thing with that micro-bomb swimming around in her bloodstream. My threats should be temporarily neutralised. Long enough, hopefully. And I don't seem to have a use for Felicia at the moment - not until Sable returns to try to stop me anyway. Though, she makes an excellent play-toy at times. And, at times, a
dangerous one, too. And I wonder how my *other* experiments are handling themselves.
- Next Night -*
- Silver Sable - Symkaria - Castle Sable - 11:10PM -
Peter's breathing mask had been removed temporarily, so the mask was all down, and so the doctors could focus on injuries around his neck and upper torso. It had already been 10 minutes since she was asked the shocking, yet expected request from her medical staff. Remove SpiderMan's mask, huh? She is well aware of the risks in doing so, and knows it's wrong and dishonorable in removing it without SpiderMan's permission. She sat outside the room he was being treated in, contemplating on a choice. She knows the inevitable outcome, considering that this is a potential matter of life and death. She cared for him, and wished him well, but she also knew how he felt about his identity on multiple occasions. They were good friends, and she wasn't going to let him die. And anyway, she knows how to keep a secret. Plus, what will her people care? He's an ally. He may even very well be something deeper.
Closing her eyes with a sigh, she reopened them and stepped into the room, carefully closing the door behind her. She nodded at the doctor, who was slightly taken aback by her answer, but composed himself, putting on a straight face as he approached the patient. He reached out his hand, putting his fingers at the underside of Peter's mask, before being interrupted.
" Wait, " Sable spoke in Symkarian, placing a firm but gentle hand around his wrist, the doctor looking up at her in wait. " I will do it, " Sable continued, as the doctor nodded and took a step back.
She hesitated, though she followed through, using both hands to begin to slip off Peter's upgraded mask. She placed her fingers underneath the opening just below Peter's jaw, stretching the mask out to widen the opening, then slipping in her other hand to the left, and she began to pull it upwards. It was harder than she thought, though she eventually began to see some of his bare skin behind his clothing. As she pulled up the rest, she had a slight uneasy feeling in her chest - she didn't know whether it was
because she felt like she was breaking SpiderMan's trust out of loyalty to him, or whether it was because of her finally being able to see the man behind the mask after eight years of various encounters. She then quickly followed through, sliding the mask up and off of his head for what seemed to be a very, very long second.
She looked down to see she was holding his intact mask down in her hands with a semblance of disbelief, but looked back at him wide-eyed and her mouth slightly-parted once she realised it was true. She was taken aback by the swelling and bruising around his forehead, and the washes of blood slathered down his forehead from his open scalp. Some of the blood was crusted and dried, matted as crimson tints within his hazel-brown hair, that was unkept and stood in an erratic manner, which she guessed was from the mask, though he had a tuft of hair on the left side of his head swept over his forehead in a neat, slick curl. Other than the toxic-red coloured blood on his forehead and scalp, Sable did think he had a handsome face - it was at least better-looking than average New Yorkers, according to her eyes, at least. He had a strong jawline and chin, with growing and visible brown stubble stippling across his jaw, chin, and underneath his nose, with stubble branching out from his sideburns to connect to his lower jaw. Apart from the recent damage and a few scars, he had clear white skin, very well-moisturised and youthful for a man of 26 years of age, and he had plump lips at a slightly darker tint of colouring than that of his skin. His eyebrows weren't too tiny, though they were nowhere near close to connecting, and the brown hairs weren't thin, but they weren't overwhelmingly bushy either. His eyelashes weren't unnoticeably small, but they weren't feminine either, though his eyes were closed. Sable would guess the colour of his irises would be either brown, black or blue, not uncommon within New Yorkers. And though she didn't know it yet, she was right. His chocolate-brown eyes were probably his most prominent facial feature to anybody's eyes - not just any possible girlfriend or interest of the opposite gender. His eyes were firm and strict - they were direct in any emotion shown or portrayed - yet simultaneously they were gentle and sincere. The chocolatey colour was sweet and open, though the darker tints represented stability and dependability. With any disguise, with any mask, it was always something about the eyes of the 'spider' that made it iconic, and it wasn't so different with the 'man' himself.
Sable snapped back into reality after a sudden elongated 5 seconds of staring, tightening her grip around his mask, then walking over to the other side of the bed as the doctors began to inspect Peter's head injuries. Sable knelt down to the box beside his bed, placing the mask above Peter's other folded costume attire and his recently-upgraded web-shooters. She noticed how his lower attire had not been cleaned out, and there was still a few trickles of blood embedded within the textured kevlar of his torn thigh cloth. Then, she could feel the moisture beginning to form within the palm of her hand and in between her fingers, and she loosened her grip on the mask to realise she had held it inside-out, the stained, wet blood at the top of the mask beginning to ooze of and sink onto her skin. It wasn't much blood, though. The majority was already dry, and the wet blood that had formed small, flat drops on her skin would only fill maximum a milliliter up in any cup or container. She used her other hand the grab to top of the mask from the inside, then she pulled it through so the mask was properly positioned and the correct side was out, as she saw her reflection within the eyepieces. She placed it carefully in the box, then exited the room and thought it best to get some sleep for the night, while SpiderMan was being treated.
- Walter Hardy - Underground Lair - Containment Cell - 11:15PM -
The scientists continued to monitor Hardy's progress, stationed at their computers surrounding the cell, the canisters nearly empty, with Walter Hardy now barely conscious, still strapped onto the vertically positioned table. The Goblin-enhanced Felidae DNA injected into the nuclei of his cells via his bloodstream had begun to modify his natural human DNA. By now, his entire body was leaking hot sweat, as his erratic breathing added to the hot moisture particles within every inch of the air within his proximity. His eyes were paining from unwillingly being shut together tightly due to the indescribable pain, his light hair almost wet with his own release of sweat. His nose was scrunched and his mouth constantly snarled, his body violently and uncontrollably spasming, that you would think he was a live and sentient wind-up toy strapped to an electric chair. His body, very frail from skipping his meals, had mere outlines of his crack-like veins, full of the thick liquid pumping around his form, which began to absorb it like a sponge in the water. And, like a sponge in the water, he could burst with the
slightest squeeze, but instead of releasing the liquid he was absorbing, it was more like a mental sponge in which he would uncontrollably lash out from what he was feeling, letting his current feelings of anger and pain rip in a single, blood-filled tornado. The sweat around every pore in his cell began to shine from the crisp-yellow lighting in his cell, almost beginning to vividly glow upon his skin like molten iron pouring out from his changing cells. A transformation had already begun to break out, and very thin wires of jet-black hair began to prickle out of his skin in tufts at a time, first of all beginning to grow as amplified versions of his natural facial and body hair; it grew as stubble, chest, arm, leg, pubic and back hair, though it was barely noticable as of now. His muscles had already enlarged, doubling in size from his natural body, as the fragility of his body decreased as time passed. Hardy's irises glew a poisonous emerald-green, his pupils shrinking in size at the same rate the serum was injected into his DNA. The stitches in his head began to pop open and fall out, the gnash in his dome beginning to widen, though it remained a treated scar, as the old, grey hair on his head began to darken as it enlarged. From the bottom of his spine, a small bump began to jut out just above the crack of his rear-end, currently remaining a knob. Hardy was left to his silent screams as he transformed, the new DNA beginning to overwrite his old one.
- Meanwhile - Norman Osborn - 11:15PM -
He was once again locked within his own private bathroom, tainted blood leaking from his mouth, as Osborn held his shirt and tie scrunched up in a bloodied fist on his left hand, his knuckles still scarred from all his mirror-pounding. He had the taps running merely so the others couldn't hear his pain and struggles, and so none could learn that he - the big bad in all this -was feeling weakness. Osborn spat out Goblin-infused blood as he coughed, his lungs feeling as if they were tearing themselves apart. His right hand was leaning against his sink, and his brained throbbed behind his skull. Osborn was growing impatient with the cure, the pain and struggle becoming highly intolerable. He coughed, as his shaking right hand reluctantly made its way over to his cabinet, and he didn't even bother to open the cabinet door; he punched through the glass with a straight jab, the glass falling inwards as his front-two right hand knuckles tore slightly with minor cuts. He then grunted as picked up a new vial of Goblin serum,
reluctantly though quickly bringing it towards him and filling up a syringe. He released his chest with his left hand, and then steadied the syringe with his right. He began to sweat from his forehead and brows, as he hovered the needle over his left wrist. He didn't care about the pain though he slightly winced when he drove the needle through his skin and into his green-filled vein. His veins began to glow lime around the injection site as he used his thumb to push down the piston, the liquid seeping into his already-deteriorating body. After a few seconds or so, he yanked out the needle, tossing the syringe to the side of the sink as little dribbles of contaminated blood began to seep down his arm from the injection site, trickling and leaving a wet trail as it went. Osborn felt a pulsing in his body, knowing well that he may have over-dosed, as the serum began to ignite a burning in his veins. After a long second passed, his grunts faded and he began to feel some relief after cleaning his dripping blood and the wounds on his knuckles, bandaging them after he did so.
- SpiderMan - Mysterio's Reality - Queens Streets - 11:30PM -
Peter, in his upgraded SpiderMan costume, dove head-first off a building, a blazing javelin streaking downwards in the sky nighttime sky, with the merciless New York dusk wind beating upon his streamlined, agile figure, him wincing a little from his recent wounds after the explosion. He skimmed the surface of the glass windows he dove past, people pressing up against their windows to even catch a mere glimpse of the hero, at least. Peter hurriedly followed the sound of a wailing police siren, as he fired a web from his left wrist 3/4 down the building, his stored kinetic energy build-up in his momentum causing his body to jerk left as it followed his web-line. He grabbed onto the webbing with both hands, driving his momentum forward as he pulled the web down between his legs, and noisily swung forward split-legged, as he closed in on the police sirens. He parkoured through the city streets, swinging off of lampposts and corkscrewing through cranes, horizontally and vertically wall-running, occasionally high-fiving pedestrians as he wall-ran past them.
"Goodnight, New Yorkers!"
He flipped off the wall and broke into a swing, woo-hooing as he did so, until he got close enough to the police car to understand and analyse what
was happening. He released his webbing, and for a split-second, any photographer, even Peter himself, would say that the shot and scene in the fleeting moment would have been the perfect front-page eye-banger for any newspaper, comic or media in general. Within that half-second, SpiderMan's suit was a pleasing aesthetic in the silver-blue moonlight, as his current frame and position amplified his aesthetics. The redness of his mask and suit was perfectly shaded, the moonlight making the right side of his figure glow vibrant with a gentle orange wash, white white highlights on the more armored parts of his costume. The fleeting suspension left SpiderMan's chest puffed out, with his back slightly arched inwards, with his arms stretched out and palms facing forwards, slightly behind his back though in line with one another. His legs were softly bent, but they were spread out, his toes facing towards the ground. As the sirens wailed, the red lighting gave his costume orange-brown tints, whilst the siren blues made his lightweight armour shine with dark maroon highlights, and the carbon-fiber designed, kevlar-textured black of his costume contrast with cool blues and greys. The sharp and dangerous vibes his mask's eyes gave off along side his heroic and prideful aura were only amplified as he fixed his sights on his target.
He fired another web-line, then began to speak to his suit's A.I.
"May?" Peter asked, zipping onto the top of the wailing police car, as annoying as the sound may be, as he ignored the protests of the back-seat policemen.
"Yes, Peter?" his A.I., May, answered, as Peter set his sights on the speeding escort/getaway cars and truck in front of him. Peter used his very-own modified version of Max Modell's web-shooters, where he implemented a scroll feature with icons for different types of webbing and firing, in case his he had to somehow manually manage his web-shooters, or if he wanted to use two types of webbing at the same time. Of course, he could just ask his A.I. to set it for him right now, since she is online, minus the double web-type feature, but it was a better time than any to give it a try. He turned to the back of his hand, tapping on a sensor on the back of his right web-shooter. Out from it popped up a holographic wheel of icons, and he cycled through them until a mini icon of a robotic spider appeared in the
selector square of the glowing blue wheel. He double-tapped over the sensor, closing the wheel. He hoped to have set his right shooter to firing his very own, self-made bullet-spiders. They were non-lethal, obviously, and were fired at high speeds, though not as fast as an actual bullet; it could be seen mainly by superhumans, though any human with perceptive and strong eyesight would be able to track its movement when fired. Once it embeds into/hits its target, the bullet opens up to more advanced spider-tracers, that link to Spidey's A.I. and freely move around like an actual spider, but with multiple functions. Of course, Peter gave the schematics to Max Modell, who's team was mass-making more, as 'side-projects' as far as the government was concerned, and it was easy to store now with the Spider-Lab back open.
"Analyse the contents of the truck, if you'd please," Peter spoke, as he aimed his right wrist towards the back shutter of the truck, then snapped down onto his lever with his two middle fingers, and to his gladness, the scroll function worked as two bullet-spiders fired from his dual nozzles, the firing noises suppressed. Peter could see, with his enhanced sight, and the further confirmation that his mask signaled, that the two spiders had embedded into the back of the truck, and had come online, as they began to crawl around.
"Right away, Peter," the A.I. spoke, linking with the spiders on the truck, showing Peter camera feeds in the corner of his mask's vision, as the spiders began to send out vibrations and sonar pulsations.
May continued, "The camera feed shows stolen weaponry, still intact within their boxes, and they seem to be unloaded as of now. The ammunition is set apart in the back, weapon types ranging from pistols, assault rifles, snipers and explosives. Sensors detect four heat signatures; one driver and passanger, two at the back. Vehicle speed 74mph and increasing."
Peter had literally just dodged a bullet or two from the gunman in the first escort vehicle, already closing in on the gunman with a web-strike. Peter followed through with a quick disarm, yanking the pistol from his hand and then webbing it to the back of the low-rider. He quickly crawled over to the gunman in the passanger seat, using a single hand to drag out the black-clad criminal by the shirt, then, harmlessly, in killing and/or seriously injuring
terms, tossing him out the vehicle and having the masked crime-doer skid and roll to a stop on the pavement, with a stinging bruise on his nose and elbow from the painful landing. Just as he was about to make a break for it, he suddenly felt the force and weight of his body pinned down, and he barely moved his head to his side to see ropes of thick webbing pasted across his arm, the criminal grunting as he rightfully guessed what had happened. Peter moved on to the helpless driver, who had no chance of resistance as Peter punched a whole through the windshield, using the space to get in and pull the driver from his seat, taping him to the hood of the vehicle. In a swift movement to avoid any accidental crash, Spidey used the hood and roof of the decelerating car to step-up and backflip off, firing a barrage of webbing at and underneath the wheels of the car, forcing the ride to stop with a slight whiplash, the criminal at the front jerking from the pain and jolt. A police car from the chase already broke off to arrest the stopped criminals.
Peter's spider-sense warned him of the danger from the final escort car behind him, and he used May's help, as well as his own skills, to safely disable that and then move over to the truck.
Peter carried a lot of force with him when he became a living wrecking-ball, swinging into the back of the truck, as the shutter dented inwards. Peter could already hear the cocking of the guns inside as he pushed off from the damaged back of the truck, leaping into the air. He fired four regular webs from each of his dual web-shooters, the webs attaching to the back of the truck as he slingshot himself towards the dented shutter, focusing his point of impact at the central point of the damage. The momentum sent him driving through the back, the shutter collapsing inwards as Peter landed with a stomp over the dented and damaged shutters.
"Hey, guys," Peter spoke as he kept his balance in the moving vehicle, "Don't you know this stuff is illegal? Just stop the truck and leave quietly, and I definetely won't call the cops!" he joked, as one of the goons went for a gun in his holster.
Peter reacted quickly, snapping a quick blast of webbing at the thug's hand, sealing it to the side of his waist, just below his holster.
"I'm just kidding," Peter admitted, sprinting towards the stunned goon he just fired a web at, "There's already a red 'n' blu-er - red 'n' black sheriff in your vicinity, and it's time I took you cowboys off your high-horses!"
With that final bit of dialogue, Peter used his momentum to leap up at the criminal, who failed to strike SpiderMan in mid-air. Peter carried his momentum forward, moving to the side of the criminal, though simply placing a palm onto his face, bringing his head down into a wooden crate of ammo, knocking him out just like that, as his skull smashed through the box. To be sure, SpiderMan floored him with webbing, securing him to the ground.
The vehicle was unsteadily moving as the police sirens wailed in the background, and Peter felt a sudden tingle in the back of his skull. Knowing exactly what it was, Peter swiftly leaned back, and in one free-flowing movement, positioned himself into a bridge position to dodge a bullet that flew past him and embedded into the wall in front of him. Peter flowed his movement into a backwards handspring, frog-leaping over the head of the startled criminal who still held her smoking gun forward. Peter used this time to duck down and flip, sending a pele kick to the back of the criminal's skull, knocking her out, as Peter followed up with a stream of webbing. He felt how unsteady the truck was becoming, and he exited, sealing up the opening in the back to ensure security.
SpiderMan wasted no time in making it to the front of the vehicle, and to his surprise, the truck was empty.
"Dammit! Nobody's driving this thing!" he said, slightly taken aback as he burst in through the side, sitting in the driver's seat to find a shoe full of clay left on the accelerate pedal. Peter's early-warning-danger-system went off, and he used his right foot to kick up the shoe off the pedal, simultaneously slamming down on the brake pedal with his left foot. Keeping his left foot on the brakes, he stood up and used his right foot to kick the shoe, while it was still in mid-air, towards the focus of his spider-sense, the shoe knocking the sneaking passanger criminal in the jaw while he was hiding behind the door on the side of the truck, incapacitating him as he fell off the side of the truck. With Spidey too focused on stopping the slowing truck to a halt, he wasn't completely free to react to the criminal
outside the door on his side, as he felt and heard a gun cock at point-blank range besides his head.
"Don't move… SpiderMan…" the female criminal spokefrom the outside of the vehicle, "And I'm pretty sure you can't get anywhere faster than I can get my finger to one trigger," she spoke, just as the truck grinded to a stop.
"Actually," Peter said, checking the current position of his spiders from the tracker in his virtual map, "You'd be surprised, if you were conscious to see it."
The criminal was already cornered since the truck had stopped, now police began converging around the location.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" she asked, now nervous and panicked as cops parked and exited their cars.
"May," SpiderMan spoke, "Activate Spider-Bite."
As he causally said so, the bullet-spiders from before had crawled upon the criminal, and with that command, both spiders exposed their robotic fangs and placed them onto the criminal's clothing/skin, and used them as forms of tasers, electrocuting and incapacitating the criminal, as she harmlessly fell unconscious to the ground, police sirens closer than ever. The spiders, though, were completely fried; the charge must have somehow backfired, and Peter even noticed through his mask that they went offline.
"Great," was all SpiderMan could say as he picked up and stored his fried spiders in his belt and then went back into the sky of skyscrapers.
- SpiderMan/Symbiote - Mysterio's Reality - Peter's Apartment - 11:50PM -
SpiderMan zipped his way up to his window, a slight 'knock' resounding on the glass after he carefully landed.
"May," he spoke, "Sleep."
"Goodnight, Peter," his A.I. responded before powering off.
He slid open his window, him already having broken the lock numerous times before, and Spidey stepped in as silently as possible, wanting to make sure he doesn't wake his (possibly) sleeping beauty. And as he walked, sure enough, there she was, the red-head Mary Jane Watson, dead-asleep in their bed, dressed in white pants and a white sleeping blouse, her laptop kept on the bed-side desk next to her.
Spidey had his mask in his hand and smirked, his hair erratically placed due to the mask, and his eyes slightly baggy from tire and fatigue. He uncaringly tossed his mask to the ground at random, then pulled off his upper attire, tossing his clothing and belt on a chair, placing his fried spiders on his work desk. He stripped down to his boxers, then put on a pair of fresh pants before heading to the bathroom to cool off; he wasn't going to shower right now, knowing he'd probably wake up MJ.
Peter turned on the taps and had a quick wash-down of his face and hair, the cold water bringing relief to his skin. He breathed in and out of his nose before turning off the taps, then he looked straight into the mirror, only to slightly back away in surprise from the distorted image that he saw. Within the mirror, he saw a black version of him, that then transformed and moved around, transforming into Venom, standing in the mirror and staring straight at him.
"What the hell?" Peter quietly asked, hoping for an answer. "Venom?!" he questioned at a voice tone just above a whisper.
The symbiote beast within the image began to morph again to Peter's surprise, though this time into lettering. ' * Mysterio. WAKE UP.* '
The letters seemed to vanish just as quickly as they formed, leaving nothing but a regular reflection in the mirror. After a second, Peter's rapid heart-rate returned to normal, and he breathed out, extremely baffled with wide eyes. He walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light on his way out.
"What?" Pete questioned himself in a whisper, as he simply stood still in the middle of the room.
He was spooked, but made his way to the bed, then carefully got in behind the sheets, making sure not to wake up his partner as he lay with her.
- Walter Hardy - Underground Lair - Real World - 12:02AM -
The transformation was complete. Every drop of the Goblin-Cat serum had been injected into his body, and his DNA was overwritten. He was currently barely conscious, though Walter Hardy had probably just become the ugliest, but deadliest feline to exist on earth. That too, infused with Goblin DNA. The beast awoke, it's green eyes roaring without a voice in itself. It was impressive, its eyes were. But it certainly wasn't the only feature, as scientists screamed while its right clawed paw began to tear itself from its locks.
A/N: First of all, I'd like to give everybody reading this story a massive thanks! We've recently hit the one year mark for this story, and all I'd like to admit is that this story was never meant to be one of those 'big fics'. I was merely doing this for fun, and I just began fanfiction when I started this story. Honestly, if it wasn't for all of you readers, I would have given up on this story months ago, and I'd probably have just been another failed writer. But look now, this story has crossed 200, and truly I could not have done it without your support, input, encouragement and reviews. I'd like to give special thanks to some of my more loyal readers, as you've really helped me get far in this story, and have been constantly reviewing. So, special thanks* * bradamight, HaMiroKar420, SoldierOfTheSea and Ragnas Bredvolts. And to some of my older constant readers and reviewers, such as Pitbull4567, bugaboo13 and Rainbow Prime, please drop a review this chapter if you're still on this fic. School has been a tornado kicking my ass lately, and I know I've been sticking to monthly updates, but I will try to update faster now. See you in the next chapter, and thanks again.*
P.S. To anybody who doesn't understand how Mysterio's Reality works or what it is, either leave a review (I read them all) or PM me, and I'll try to get back to you ASAP.*
End of Chapter 19.