BANG!
As soon as the door burst open, Nathan's spider senses exploded.
Time seemed to slow.
The muzzles of the soldiers' guns turned toward him in unison. Without thinking, Nathan rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the incoming fire.
His reflexes sharpened, Spider Telepathy guiding every move.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Nathan raised his hand and fired several web bombs, knocking the weapons out of the soldiers' hands.
Screams echoed as men stumbled backward, disarmed and panicked.
Without giving them time to react, Nathan pounced. Knees and fists slammed into torsos, driving the air from their lungs.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Three of them went down instantly, groaning in agony and vomiting bile.
The colonel's eyes widened as he tried to make sense of the chaos.
"Who… who are you?!"
SMACK!
Nathan's boot struck the colonel across the jaw, knocking him unconscious.
He turned toward the remaining soldiers. "No one looks up," he ordered coldly.
The warden, still pressed against the table, immediately buried his face deeper, trembling.
Nathan opened the case that sat at the center of the negotiation.
Inside was a hard drive—Karl's data.
He tapped the warden's shoulder.
"Is this Karl's research data?"
The warden nodded so hard his forehead smacked the desk. "Yes! Yes, absolutely!"
"Is it complete?"
"Yes! It's all there! I don't do fake deals!" the warden insisted.
Nathan listened closely, monitoring the man's breathing, his heart rate.
No signs of deceit.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the labored breathing of the unconscious and terrified.
Time passed.
Finally, the warden peeked upward—just a little. When he realized the masked man was no longer present, he raised his head.
The window was open, curtain swaying.
Nathan was gone.
The warden made a break for it—but the soldiers recovered and tackled him, slamming him to the floor.
CRACK! His cry of pain echoed across the suite.
---
Hours later, inside a secret military facility, the warden was strapped to a cross-like frame in a bloodstained chamber.
His body was covered in whip marks, his sobs echoing against the stone walls.
A masked interrogator stood beside him, whip in hand.
Before them sat an old general, watching with cold eyes.
"What's your connection to the man who broke in?" the interrogator barked.
"I… I don't know him! I swear!" the warden pleaded.
CRACK!
More lashes followed.
"How did he know about the hard drive? How did he know where to find you?!"
"I only set the meeting with the colonel! I didn't tell anyone else!"
CRACK!
His cries intensified.
Just then, a soldier entered the room, whispering into the general's ear.
The old man stood, nodded, and turned toward the door. "Continue."
Behind him, the screams continued.
---
Elsewhere in the base, the general entered a dimly lit intelligence room.
Soldiers stood at attention.
"General Ross," they greeted.
He nodded.
A technician pulled up surveillance footage. "This is from the prison lab. About an hour ago, someone broke in and searched for Karl's data."
The screen showed a masked figure using webbing to subdue the guards.
Ross narrowed his eyes. "Who is this?"
"Based on movement and body shape, we believe it's Spider-Man, sir. Though there's also Ghost Spider, she's female—this one's male."
Ross's expression darkened. "I want this masked vigilante captured. Quietly. And I want that data back."
"Understood."
He added, "And continue the search for Karl. We're not done experimenting."
"Yes, sir!"
Just then, a soldier entered. "General, Director Fury wants a word."
Ross exhaled, his irritation thinly veiled. "Fine. Let's go."
---
Meanwhile, in Queens…
Peter Parker was eating takeout with Ned in Aunt May's kitchen.
"Ah-choo!" Peter sneezed loudly.
Ned laughed. "Someone's thinking about you!"
"Maybe," Peter muttered, wiping his nose.
"Laura, maybe?" Ned teased.
Peter blushed. "Shut up."
Little did Peter know… he'd just been blamed for a mission he knew nothing about.
---
Somewhere above the Atlantic, a private jet soared through the clouds.
Inside the first-class cabin, Madame HYDRA reclined with a glass of champagne, scrolling through digital images on her tablet.
Flames. War. Mutated soldiers.
A flight attendant passed. "Looks like a good movie, ma'am."
Madame HYDRA smiled politely. "Just some… research. Another glass, please."
She sipped slowly, murmuring to herself: "You're in New York now. I'll find you. That technology belongs to me."
---
On the road into Manhattan, several black SUVs sped forward.
Inside were mechanical soldiers, cold, silent, inhuman.
A signal pulsed through their network: "Find Nathan. Do not allow the technology to fall into anyone else's hands."
---
In one of the trailing cars, Kurt gripped the wheel tightly, navigating traffic with expert precision.
Nathan sat in the back, gazing out the window, the hard drive in his hand.
"This is kind of like Batman and Alfred, huh?" Nathan mused aloud.
Kurt blinked. "Who?"
"Superhero and his butler. Never mind."
Kurt chuckled. "You read weird stuff."
Nathan offered no response.
They soon reached the safe house, where Nathan handed Kurt his coat, hat, and glasses.
"Get rid of these."
"On it, boss."
---
Inside the safe house, the lights were low.
Emily and Claude were already asleep upstairs.
Nathan descended into the basement with the hard drive.
Down there, he found Little Spider-Man, wearing a red headband, intently watching an English tutorial video.
Its legs mimicked writing motions, copying words on soaked sheets of paper.
Nathan smiled. "Very good. You're doing great, Little Spider-Man."
The spider beamed with pride, wiggling its entire body and spinning excitedly in circles.
"Okay, okay—don't get dizzy," Nathan laughed.
"You've earned your break. Balance work and rest—we train tomorrow."
Little Spider-Man saluted with a leg, then used water to write on the paper:
little spider-man
Nathan's eyes widened slightly.
He leaned down, seeing a stack of papers with scribbled letters. The little guy had been practicing for hours.
Nathan ruffled his head. "You really are my right-hand man."
Little Spider-Man proudly raised a leg again. "Fight for the boss's dream! Charge!"
---
Moments later, Nathan inserted the hard drive into his secure system.
The files were sparse.
Apparently, Luke Cage escaped shortly after receiving his powers—there hadn't been time to do extensive analysis.
Still, there was enough.
Formulas. Test logs. Body vitals during transformation.
Nathan muttered, "This is a corrupted version of the Super Soldier Serum. They must've extracted it from Captain America's blood."
But there was a problem.
Captain America's blood—altered by time, fusion, and his own biology—wasn't clean.
Using it as a base introduced contaminants and variables.
The resulting serum was flawed—lethal to most.
"Only rare individuals like Luke Cage survive. Probably due to genetic flukes... or even sabotage causing a chemical chain reaction that benefited him."
He ran simulations.
Inputting Luke's altered parameters into the corrupted serum...
293 outcomes. All resulted in death.
"Unbelievable. The odds of survival were nearly zero."
Nathan narrowed his eyes.
"If I can get Luke's full genetic profile, and cross-reference it with this data—I can reconstruct the chemical chain reaction."
"And build that steel body for myself."
He flipped through surveillance cameras.
One showed Luke Cage's diner, a humble shop packed with blue-collar workers, elderly folks, and street punks alike.
Everyone came for his cheap, hearty meals.
Nathan watched for a while, learning nothing new.
---
In the days that followed, Nathan dove into training.
His strength soared—by 6 tons.
He now lifted 23 tons with ease.
Only 1 ton away from reaching a level where his strikes would channel powerful electric bursts.
Night fell.
Nathan studied in the basement.
Suddenly, Kurt burst in. "Boss! Emergency!"
"A gang brought an army to Luke Cage's door!"
"They're going to take him!"
Nathan's pupils narrowed.
"No. I still need data from him."
He shot out the door—racing toward Luke's diner.
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