Chapter 5: Spider-Man Appeared
Hi everyone,
I'm really sorry to ask like this, but I'm struggling right now. Being a college student hasn't been easy—especially with exams coming up and the daily expenses that never seem to stop. I've been trying to hold everything together, but lately, it's been overwhelming.
If you're able to help, even just a little, it would truly mean so much to me. Every small amount helps more than I can say.
Landbank Account: 1746 3587 72(Anything at all is deeply appreciated.)
Thank you for reading this. And thank you, too, to those who continue to support my writing, I promise to keep giving it my all. Even just sharing this would be a big help.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 🙏
..
.....
The air cracked.
Concrete groaned under the weight of war.
Across the ruined street, Skorpion slowly stood from the wreckage of the car Peter had sent him into. The vehicle hissed with steam and leaking fuel, flames flickering at the edges.
Skorpion's voice clicked and whirred through his mechanical throat—cold, distorted, unnatural:
"Who are you? Unidentified. Unknown species."
His red visor scanned Peter's suit with a sharp buzz.
Peter cocked his head to the side, voice muffled but smooth under the mask.
"Whoa. A robotic Skorpion? That sounds kinda awesome."
He crouched low, feet steady, one hand planted against the ground, ready.
Inside, though…
(Did my personality just shift into Peter's?)
A pause.
(Well… not that it matters anyway. I am Drake. And I am Peter. I'm both now.)
His fists clenched.
(I've got his memories, his science, his guilt. But I've got my fight, my fire—my rage.)
Skorpion's tail clicked back into striking position. Hydraulic vents hissed from his spine.
"Eradicate anomaly."
He charged like a tank possessed.
Peter darted forward.
CLASH—!!
Their fists collided metal against muscle.
Peter twisted, leapt sideways, and web-zipped to a streetlamp above, hanging upside down.
"Yo, Scorpy—mind if I call you Scorpy? Ever consider voice acting? You'd kill it in horror games."
"Terminating."
Skorpion swung his tail like a wrecking ball—SLAM!—crushing the pole in two.
Peter flipped midair—twisting like a corkscrew—and landed on the side of a wall, Mark I suit glowing slightly from the effort.
(Damn, this body's agile. It's not just the suit—it's me. I can feel everything—the balance, the tension in every step.)
He fired two webs THWIP-THWIP!
The web-lines yanked him forward with a burst of speed straight into Skorpion's face.
CRACK!
He slammed a spinning kick into the side of the visor, cracking the left side.
Skorpion stumbled back but responded fast.
His tail lunged.
Peter ducked.
Too late—
SLASH—!!
A deep gash tore across his left arm. Sparks from the bracer flew. Blood dripped.
"Grrh—okay. That hurt."
"Pain is irrelevant," Skorpion intoned, lunging again.
Peter twisted around him used the momentum to grab the tail mid-swing and web it to a support beam.
"Irrelevant this!"
With a burst of energy from his palm—ZNNGGG!—he pulsed his hidden laser weapon into the tail's segment.
BOOM—!!
The tail exploded in a rain of sparks, violently snapping backward and taking Skorpion off balance.
Skorpion roared a distorted static scream.
Peter breathed hard, clutching his bleeding arm, then looked toward the rebels.
Ganke stared in awe.
The others were rising again, hope flickering in their eyes.
Peter raised a fist.
"Hey. You guys alright?"
The Rebels slowly emerged from cover eyes wide, stunned.
Ganke blinked, lowering his goggles, disbelief written across his face.
"…What are you? How do you have that strength? That agility?"
Peter turned to him, his suit flickering from damage, still bleeding at the arm.
He gave a small grin under the mask.
"Well… I'm Spider-Man."
Ganke tilted his head.
"Spider… what? What is that?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then flexed an arm like he was on a superhero poster.
"Well, um… it's kinda my nickname. A superhero. You know, jumps, punches, saves people, says cool stuff. That whole deal."
Ganke deadpanned.
"You made that up just now, didn't you."
Peter chuckled.
"Nah, I—"
"TERMINATING."
Skorpion's voice screeched behind them, static and hate boiling together.
Peter's eyes narrowed.
"Oops. Not done yet."
He turned.
The beast was still standing.
Barely.
Sparks showered from his spine. The tail dragged, severed. One leg limped.
But Skorpion charged with a last, desperate burst of fury.
Peter didn't flinch.
He launched forward one final web swing, rising above him with perfect momentum.
"Let me wrap this up real quick."
He spiraled power gathering in his right palm, that burning, glowing energy core surging through the gauntlet.
With a roar—
SLAM!
The laser-powered punch connected dead center in Skorpion's chest.
CRACK—!!!
The armor shattered.
Skorpion crashed into the wall so hard it crumbled, half-burying him in rubble and metal.
This time…
He didn't get back up.
The lot fell silent.
Smoke drifted.
And at the center of it—
Spider-Man.
Bloodied.
Breathing heavy.
But victorious.
He turned to the stunned rebels. Their eyes were locked on him—not with fear anymore.
With hope.
Peter gave them a small salute with two fingers.
"Let me introduce myself properly."
He took a slow breath.
Stood tall.
Then with a confident grin under the cracked mask, he said:
"I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
The Rebels stared.
Then—
"…Yo, that was crazy," one whispered.
Another gave a shaky laugh.
A third dropped to their knees, overwhelmed.
And Ganke?
He stared for a long moment, eyes wide.
Then—
He smiled.
"You're insane."
Peter grinned.
"Yeah. Kinda the job."
But before anyone could speak again—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A sharp, robotic ticking sound echoed from behind.
Peter's head turned.
Skorpion's body—still half-buried in rubble—was flashing.
Fast. Red. Dangerous.
"What the hell—?"
BOOOOM—!!
A violent explosion rocked the entire street.
Flames shot up. Debris flew. Smoke swallowed the alley in seconds.
Peter instinctively threw out webs—THWIP! THWIP!—snatching rubble mid-air and shielding two nearby rebels from the blast.
When the dust cleared…
Only scorched ground remained where Skorpion's body had been.
No armor.
No parts.
No trace.
Peter stood frozen, arm out, smoke curling from his shoulders.
"What the hell…" he muttered.
Ganke approached, brushing ash off his jacket like it was routine.
"Tsk… he exploded again."
Peter turned slowly, ash still falling around them like snow. His lenses narrowed.
"…Again?"
He froze.
(Exploded… again?)
His pulse slowed. The smell of scorched metal hung in the air. Something in him stirred. Familiar but broken.
Peter staggered back a step, then closed his eyes beneath the cracked mask.
His thoughts swirled.
A storm of memories not all his.
"Okay… search your memory, Pete… come on."
Flashes of blueprints. Rebel tech. Urban warfare.
His breath quickened.
"(I'm… a military rebel.)"
"(I know that. I was trained. Tactical ops. Guerrilla infiltration.)"
"(My team… they weren't kids with rifles. They were soldiers.)"
Images flickered blurry.
A dark hallway. The sound of boots.
A woman shouting orders.
A large man with a cybernetic arm handing him a modified web-gauntlet.
Blood.
Fire.
Green lightning.
(We were fighting… the Green Goblin.)
More images. Explosions. Screams.
Peter falling. His shoulder torn open.
And then—
Silence.
Darkness.
A still body.
His body.
Peter Parker… was dead.
And then Drake… arrived.
(So I came after the fall. After the war. After the Goblin.)
(No wonder I don't recognize this Skorpion.)
He opened his eyes slowly.
Smoke drifted past his mask.
He looked at the rebels in front of him—shaky, dirty, scraping by.
"These people…" he whispered under his breath. "They're not my old squad…"
(They're what's left.)
He clenched his fists.
(So my team's probably dead. My past—burned. And this city's in the hands of monsters. Synthetic ones. Controlled. Ready to explode before giving up secrets.)
(This isn't just about justice anymore. It's about truth.)
He took a breath.
"…Okay. Someone better explain to me what the hell is going on in this city."
Ganke nodded slowly.
"Yeah… you're gonna wanna see what we're fighting against."
Peter stood still, the faint glow from his damaged suit fading with the smoke.
The tension in the air thickened not from danger, but from doubt.
A girl stepped forward from the shadows of the rubble her eyes sharp, jawline rough with an old scar running from cheek to chin.
Silver braids tied tight behind her back. Black combat jacket half-zipped. A blade slung over one hip, a busted shock-rifle over the other.
"Leader said we can't let strangers in," she said coldly, glaring at Peter. "You know that, Ganke."
The other rebels tensed. The glow of dying flames cast long, shifting shadows across their faces. They were tired. Hurt. Suspicious.
Peter didn't move. He understood the look in their eyes.
He'd worn it once, too.
(That's fear. The kind you don't show unless you've lost everything.)
Ganke stepped between them, turning to Quin.
"Quin…I know what the leader said." His voice was calm but firm. "But he saved us. Skorpion would've killed us all."
Quin narrowed her eyes. "Or maybe he led Skorpion here."
Peter stepped forward, hands raised slightly.
"I didn't lead anyone.
She didn't blink.
"How do we know that? You show up in a suit. Webs. Power. We don't know what tech you're carrying. For all we know, you're a Sinister prototype with a pretty voice."
Peter's fists clenched. He took a step closer.
"Lady, I bled for you tonight."
He pointed to the enemies
"You think I did all that just to fake being on your side?"
The air was silent for a beat.
Then Quin spoke again, quietly.
"…My brother died fighting Skorpion six weeks ago."
Peter's voice softened. "…I'm sorry."
"He was strong," she said, more to herself. "And he died screaming."
Ganke exhaled, stepping in again. "Quin, I'm not saying we let him into the core. But at least bring him to the wall. Let him see what we're up against."
Another rebel nodded. "He should know what he's walking into if he's gonna wear that suit."
Quin stared at Peter a moment longer.
Then turned.
"Fine. He walks with us."
"But one wrong move…" she tapped the handle of her blade, "and I'll be the one putting him down."
Peter shrugged. "Fair enough."
(I don't blame her. If I were in her shoes… I wouldn't trust me either.)
The group moved.
Toward the tunnel hatch beneath the broken lot.
Ganke looked back once as they dropped into the darkness.
"Welcome to the underworld, Mr. Spider-Man."
And with that…
The gate closed behind them.
The city swallowed the silence again.
But something new was moving beneath its skin.
..
MEANWHILE – SINISTER BASE, EARTH-42
CLANG—!!
Metal shattered as a dented monitor flew across the dark, neon-lit command room—slamming into a wall and exploding in sparks.
"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!"
Scorpia stood in the center of the war room like a storm wrapped in cybernetics.
Wires hung from her arms like twitching vipers. Her right leg was cybernetic, scraped from
years of battle. Her long black and green braid whipped behind her as she turned, ripping a mechanical arm from the table and hurling it.
"That Spider-Man…!!" she growled, pacing like a caged predator.
Her synthetic jaw twitched with every breath.
She looked up at the broken screen still playing a fuzzy drone feed, smoke, rubble, the red-and-black figure standing tall.
Spider-Man.
"Where did I hear that name… where did I—?"
Her voice dropped.
Muttering.
Thinking.
Digging.
And then—
Her eyes widened.
"No…"
A flicker.
A flash of memory.
Two years ago.
a figure in white and pink swinging in through the smoke like a blade of light.
A girl.
Gwen Stacy.
Spider-Woman.
She moved like music and hit like thunder.
And that day Scorpia lost.
She remembered the sting of that defeat more than the pain of it.
"That BITCH!!"
She slammed her hand into the console—CRACK!—the screen shattered.
"He's like her. He moves like her. That style—those reflexes—it's almost the same!!"
Her voice dropped into a snarl.
"…How dare you…" she whispered, venom coating every syllable.
"How DARE you defeat my robots—MY work."
The doors opened.
A masked technician stepped in, cautiously.
"Ma'am, Prowler Miles is requesting an update—"
CRACK!!
She grabbed the tech by the throat and slammed him into the wall.
"You tell Prowler that Spider-Man, he is obsessed about is back"
"He's BACK!."
She let the tech fall.
Turned back to the broken screen.
A spark.
A memory.
A ghost in white.
Her hands trembled.
Not with fear.
But obsession.
To be continue