I Am the Spider-Man from Earth-42

The night had turned into a furnace.

Buildings burned in the distance, smoke rising like dying prayers into a starless sky. Civilians screamed in the far quarters, their voices lost in the roar of collapsing steel. Sirens wailed. Concrete cracked. And the air stank of ozone and melting metal.

The city was on fire.

And in the middle of it all—

Spider-Man stood alone.

The Mark I suit, once brilliant with red and black sheen, now looked like it had been through a dozen wars.

Scorched. Torn. Fractured.

The iconic white spider emblem across his chest was splintered, scorched down the

middle, the paint peeling.

Blue light flickered weakly from the chest core.

His left shoulder plating was gone, wires exposed, sparking faintly with every breath.

Peter's chest heaved, steam curling through the jagged slashes in his armor.

He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, eyes locking forward.

Because something was coming.

Something bigger. Worse. Not human anymore.

The footsteps hit first—thoom-thoom-thoom—each one shaking the ground like a ticking bomb.

And then she emerged through the mist:

Scorpia.

But she was no longer just a woman in armor.

She had changed.

Mutated.

Twisted by the serum.

Her human body was barely visible beneath the obsidian plating that coiled over her frame like an exoskeleton. Long green tubes pulsed from her back, like veins feeding poison. Her arms were elongated, reinforced with clawed gauntlets that clicked and split with sharp, insectoid jerks.

The tail had grown grotesquely long now split into two glowing energy-blade whips, twitching with an animalistic hunger.

From her shoulders, four mechanized whip-limbs extended and flexed like the arms of a spider goddess, each tipped with barbed hooks glowing with toxic light.

Her face…

It was still hers. Barely.

One eye was human, the other mechanical red, scanning, twitching. Her mouth twitched in rage as distorted, layered voices erupted from a modulated speaker buried in her throat.

"YOU SPIDERS—ARE A VIRUS."

Peter didn't move.

He just clenched his fists.

The left gauntlet sparked.

The cracked lens over his right eye glowed faintly.

(She's faster. Stronger. Heavily armored. Gwen wasn't kidding—this is no longer human. I'll need every upgrade we've got.)

He took a breath. Stepped forward.

And said, with a ragged grin under his mask

"You talk too much."

—BOOM.

She moved.

A blur of green lightning, she shot forward slamming into the pavement with her claws. The ground beneath her shattered, asphalt exploding outward in a shockwave.

Peter reacted on instinct.

He twisted his body sideways, web-shooters firing from both wrists snagging onto a rusted lamppost and launching himself over the blast radius.

He flipped midair, twisting to avoid a swinging claw that sliced the wind where his head had been.

But she was already anticipating.

Her dual tails lashed like vipers.

(Not fast enough—)

CLANG!!

One caught him across the ribs.

The impact sent shockwaves through his chest. His suit's auto-bracing activated—but it wasn't enough.

He was thrown like a missile.

Peter crashed through a mailbox, bounced once then skidded across a half-wrecked yellow cab, rolling to a stop in a pile of broken glass.

He coughed.

Blood hit his teeth.

His hand trembled as he pushed himself up, pain lancing through his ribs.

"Okay…" he groaned.

"Definitely faster."

His HUD glitched—red lights blinking rapidly.

POWER CORE: 37%

ARMOR BREACH: LEFT SHOULDER

WEB CARTRIDGE: LOW

(I can't keep up with her like this. If I don't push everything now… it's over.)

He opened his secondary interface, voice tight with pain:

"Initiate Final Boost Mode. Emergency override."

The suit hissed. Steam burst from his chestplate.

Panels along his ribcage and spine began to shift, opening slightly as the blue core inside his chest glowed brighter like a miniature star waking from sleep.

FINAL BOOST MODE ACTIVATED.

LIMIT: 120 SECONDS.

WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEAT IMMINENT.

(Two minutes is all I need.)

The Mark I suit surged with power.

Blue energy crawled across his veins his arms, his legs, his spine.

For the first time since the fight began… Peter felt light again.

Fast.

Strong.

Ready.

He looked up at her a monster towering in fire and machine.

And he whispered under his breath

"…Let's finish this."

….

[Note: This mode was created by Peter and Gwen intellectual mind.]

…

Scorpia lunged again.

Metal claws extended like spears. Her mutated frame blurred into motion—faster than a missile, more precise than any drone. A green corona of energy trailed her movement, and every step she took left craters in the pavement.

But this time—

Peter was ready.

He charged.

Blue light burst from the soles of his boots. Crackling arcs of energy trailed behind him like comet flares. Every joint in the Mark I suit whined, its circuitry screaming under the pressure of Final Boost Mode.

And then—impact.

They collided, and the shockwave cracked the street beneath their feet like an earthquake.

Glass shattered. Debris launched.

It was like a thunderclap in the middle of a war zone.

Scorpia snarled jabbing forward with her reinforced claws.

Peter ducked.

A blade hissed past his ear, slicing a few strands of his hair.

She spun, her tail sweeping in low like a scythe.

But Peter countered with a fluid twist he fired a web-shot, not at her, but under her. A tight web-tripwire attached to a burnt-out jeep axle on one side and a streetlamp on the other.

She didn't see it.

The trap snagged her tail mid-lunge, throwing off her momentum.

She stumbled—

Peter didn't hesitate.

He dashed in.

Her glowing eye turned to him.

"You think you can stop me?" she hissed, voice mechanical, fractured—like multiple monsters layered over one another.

"I AM PERFECTION!"

Peter didn't flinch.

He lunged upward fist cocked back energy thrumming around his gauntlet.

"You're a science project gone wrong."

CRACK!

His fist slammed into her faceplate, the impact echoing like a bomb.

Thin fractures spread from the blow—spiderweb cracks across her reinforced visor.

Before she could recover, he twisted, grounded his stance, and brought his second hand up—concussive pulse flaring from the gauntlet.

BOOM!!

The blast hit her collarbone, point-blank.

Armor plating shattered, exposing twitching wires and pulsing green circuits beneath.

She reeled back—shrieked, more beast than woman now.

And then she grabbed his arm.

(Shit—)

Her claw locked onto his bicep with crushing force.

"DIE!!"

And she hurled him—through the air.

Peter's body crashed through a shattered storefront window. Glass rained down. He slammed into shelves, concrete, racks of twisted metal.

He groaned, coughing dust and blood, curled amid broken display cases and sparking fluorescent lights.

His HUD flickered.

FINAL BOOST TIMER: 00:60 SECONDS

(Sixty seconds left. Gotta end it now.)

He dragged himself up—glass falling off his back.

His right lens was cracked. Blood ran down his brow.

But his eyes were sharp.

Focused.

Determined.

"One more minute…" he whispered, steadying his breath.

Outside, he could hear her. The shrieking of metal. The stomping of reinforced cybernetic legs.

The monster wasn't done.

But neither was he.

To be continue