"Peter, this won't kill you—but it's definitely going to sting!"
The Human Torch ignited in full force, transforming into a blazing sphere of flame that streaked straight toward the building where the Black Spider-Man lurked. In an instant, the entire floor erupted in a violent flash of light and fire, bathing the skyscraper in a searing orange glow.
The black-suited Spider-Man narrowly dodged the direct hit, his reflexes faster than ever—but even he couldn't avoid the raging heat wave that followed. Flames licked across his body, clinging to the living black suit. The Venom symbiote reacted violently, rippling across Spider-Man's frame like a disturbed pool of ink, waves of panic coursing through its surface.
"Hah, looks like I won't even have to lift a finger after all," Marcus muttered with a small, amused smile as he watched from a nearby rooftop. He had expected the Human Torch's flames to suppress the symbiote to some extent, but not to such a devastating degree.
Aerial bombardment, explosive heat waves, high-speed flight—these were all abilities perfectly tailored to counter the symbiote's weaknesses.
But just as Marcus began to relax, something unexpected happened.
The black suit covering Spider-Man's body began to expand. His muscles swelled grotesquely, his limbs thickening and stretching as his entire body doubled—then tripled—in size. Within seconds, the agile web-slinger was gone, replaced by a towering, monstrous black giant, his new form resembling a cross between Venom and the Hulk.
The transformation came with a surge of raw power. The creature roared, slamming a fist into the floor with enough force to make the entire building quake. Concrete split and metal beams bent under the impact. The explosion of wind pressure alone snuffed out nearby flames, filling the air with smoke and dust.
When the haze cleared—he was gone.
Both Marcus and the Human Torch froze, momentarily stunned.
He ran away?
The same thought flashed through both their minds. For a being that behaved more like a primal organism than an intelligent lifeform, the symbiote's decision to retreat was… unexpected.
"Did that thing just outsmart us?" Johnny muttered, scanning the rooftops in disbelief. "Since when do alien blobs have survival instincts?"
Marcus's eyes narrowed behind his mask. 'No… not instinct. Strategy.'
It seemed the symbiote wasn't just powerful—it was learning. It possessed an adaptive intelligence, just like a virus evolving to survive under pressure.
Johnny soared higher, eyes darting across the darkened skyline as he tried to locate his vanished opponent. But his search proved futile. This wasn't Peter Parker anymore—the symbiote had turned him into something colder, sharper, and far more dangerous.
What's more, that earlier transformation—abandoning agility for brute strength—wasn't a Spider-Man trait. That power had to belong to one of the symbiote's previous hosts… another superhuman, perhaps.
Each new fusion made it stronger. And that only deepened Marcus's fascination.
"Hey! Peter! Get back here!" Johnny shouted into the night. "I'm not done with you yet! Stark's gonna want proof I handled this myself!"
He wasn't about to call it quits. The brief fight had given him confidence—overconfidence. Convinced that the black-suited Spider-Man couldn't truly threaten him, the Torch's pride flared brighter than his flames.
Meanwhile, the Black Spider-Man—his suit now smoldering and charred—slipped into the shadows between the buildings. His body was already repairing itself, the burned portions of the symbiote bubbling and re-forming within seconds.
Most didn't realize it, but Venom's first host had never been Peter Parker. It had been Deadpool.
That was where the symbiote's chaotic, unhinged temperament came from—and where it had inherited its terrifying regeneration. While its healing factor wasn't quite as extreme as Deadpool's (who could regenerate even from molecular annihilation), it was still formidable enough that the symbiote could recover from being shredded, crushed, or burned.
As long as a single fragment of it remained, Venom could resurrect itself endlessly.
Which meant that no matter how hard the Human Torch hit it, unless he incinerated every last molecule, the symbiote would survive.
Marcus, of course, knew this all too well. It was precisely why he wasn't worried about Johnny accidentally killing it. Destroying Venom was almost as impossible as killing Deadpool himself.
Down below, the black-suited giant was already shrinking, reverting to a leaner, more agile form. The symbiote tightened around his body once again, reforming Spider-Man's familiar silhouette.
He moved cautiously now, avoiding open areas and staying within the shadows. In his brief clash with the Human Torch, he had learned two things: his webs were useless against that kind of heat, and prolonged contact would only burn him alive.
But when the sprinklers had gone off earlier, he had noticed something interesting—tiny droplets of water had slightly diminished the Torch's flames. Barely perceptible, but there nonetheless.
That meant Johnny's fire, for all its brilliance, was still natural fire. It could be smothered, suffocated, or doused—unlike Marcus's own hellish Bloodflame, which burned until its fuel source was gone.
If natural fire could be extinguished, then the sewers—damp, dark, and sprawling—offered the perfect battleground.
With that thought, Spider-Man leapt into an open manhole, vanishing into the depths of New York's ancient underground. Before descending, he sealed the entrance with a layer of thick black webbing—a silent invitation.
Come and get me if you dare.
Up above, Johnny hovered in the air, flames roaring around him. He spotted the sealed opening almost immediately.
"Oh, you think that's gonna stop me?" he muttered, smirking. "Cute."
Without a second thought, he dove straight into the darkness below. Trap or not, he didn't care. He wasn't going to stop until he burned that black slime off Peter's body.
New York's sewers were more than just a drainage system. Older than the city itself, they formed a vast, twisting labyrinth—an underground world that connected subway tunnels, electrical conduits, and forgotten shelters. Many urban explorers had ventured down there… and never come back.
Now, those same tunnels were about to witness a battle unlike anything in human history.
Deep inside one of the abandoned subway lines, the Black Spider-Man stalked forward silently, guided by fragments of Peter's fading memories.
Behind him, a bright orange glow illuminated the darkness—Johnny Storm, tearing through the tunnels like a comet, each fiery step leaving burning footprints in his wake.
And not too far behind them both, moving unseen, was Marcus—following quietly, patiently, like a predator watching its prey hunt another.
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T/N:
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