Peter twisted backward in mid-air. A localized pillar of fire roared past his face. The ambient heat instantly melted his web-line. The synthetic polymer snapped.
Peter plummeted. He fired another line, anchoring it to a rusty fire escape. He swung hard, putting a full city block between himself and the Human Torch.
He was bitten by a radioactive spider, not dropped into a volcano. He did not possess heat resistance. Johnny Storm burned at thousands of degrees. The Torch was completely out of his weight class. And thanks to Quentin Beck's optical trickery, Johnny currently believed Peter was Mysterio.
"You're dead, Mysterio!" Johnny screamed, a streak of blinding plasma cutting through the artificial darkness. "I'm going to roast you alive!"
"Johnny!" Peter yelled over the roar of the flames. "I'd really love to know what Quentin said to you! But I'm guessing you're not in a sharing mood!"
Peter didn't just rely on his customized sonar array. He knew Manhattan. He had spent months memorizing the exact topography of these specific buildings. He navigated the grid purely on muscle memory. Johnny didn't. The Torch overcompensated on a sharp turn. He slammed shoulder-first into a brick wall, sending a shower of sparks into the alley below.
Iron Man dropped out of the artificial night sky. The Silver Centurion armor snatched Johnny out of the air.
"Alright, kid," Tony's voice crackled over Peter's comms. "I'll handle this one."
"Mr. Stark, I have an idea—" Peter started.
"Save it!" Tony grunted. "I need to put this kid in timeout!"
Iron Man engaged his primary thrusters. He rocketed straight up at maximum velocity. The HUD flashed crimson. External temperatures spiked into the thousands. Even Stark's latest thermal plating was buckling.
"Sir," JARVIS chimed. "The armor is approaching critical overheat."
"I'm doing the math!" Tony barked.
Iron Man punched through the edge of the illusion. Real, blinding morning sunlight hit the visor. The oxygen levels plummeted in the upper atmosphere. Deprived of fuel, Johnny's flames choked. They sputtered and died. Johnny dangled from Tony's metal grip, shivering in his blue unstable-molecule suit.
"Do I need to tell Susan you almost barbecued Spider-Man?" Tony asked.
"No, no, no." Johnny waved his hands frantically. "Please do not tell my sister. She'll kill me. Come on, Stark. You guys are friends."
Tony dropped altitude. He tossed Johnny onto a flat rooftop. "Then stay put. Manhattan does not need a bonfire right now."
Johnny watched Iron Man dive back into the black smoke. He rubbed his arms, sighed, and flew back toward the Baxter Building.
Iron Man hovered at the boundary layer between the fake night and the real day. No optical projectors were floating at this altitude. Beck was rendering the entire dome from the ground up. Tony pulled the salvaged projector core from his hip compartment. He ran a high-altitude scan. He beamed the raw measurement directly to Hank Pym.
Tony dropped back into the blackout zone. He couldn't see anything through the green haze.
"JARVIS. Kill the optical feeds. Full acoustic seal. Sonar imaging only."
"Tony Stark," a theatrical voice echoed inside the suit. "The perennial disruptor. The man determined to ruin my show."
A giant, floating projection of Mysterio materialized right in front of the visor. Mysterio crossed his arms. Tony checked his HUD. The sonar returned absolutely nothing. The airspace was empty.
"I prepared a bespoke gift for you, Stark," Mysterio said.
"I don't like hand-outs," Tony replied, charging his repulsors.
"It wasn't meant to be handed out," Mysterio whispered.
"Sir, anti-aircraft lock detected," JARVIS warned.
"Now you tell me," Tony muttered.
A supersonic missile slammed into Iron Man's flank. The kinetic shockwave shattered his stabilizers. The armor tumbled wildly through the air.
Mysterio's projection hovered over the falling Avenger. "You rely on sonar, Stark. But surely a genius like you knows the simplest countermeasure. A weapon that travels faster than sound."
Peter clung to a gargoyle, watching another Mysterio avatar rise into the sky. He rubbed the back of his neck. Fighting Johnny had given him an idea. Susan Storm. The Invisible Woman. Peter didn't know the exact mechanics of her powers, but she manipulated light and forcefields. She might be the perfect counter to a guy who weaponized optical illusions. Peter shot a web, pivoting toward the Baxter Building.
Mysterio's voice boomed across the city again. He sounded annoyed.
"Welcome back, citizens. A half-hour has elapsed. The streets should be clear. However, I need to amend the rules of our engagement." Mysterio's face materialized on every digital billboard. "Certain individuals are attempting to cheat my performance. They are ignoring my visual mastery. This displeases me. I have tracked the so-called heroes. And I have dispatched their gifts."
Peter's HUD flashed. The sonar pinged a dozen fast-moving targets converging on his position. His spider-sense didn't scream lethal danger. But a low, persistent hum warned him to move. Now.
Peter dove off the gargoyle.
The drones didn't fire. They initiated suicide burns, crashing directly into the surrounding rooftops. Blinding blue light erupted. Massive electromagnetic pulses washed over the grid.
Peter's eyepieces shorted out. The sonar feed died in a burst of static.
Mysterio didn't need to EMP the whole city. He just needed to fry the heroes' acoustic tech.
Peter landed in the center of the rooftop. He was completely blind in the blackout zone. His tech was dead. He closed his eyes. He took a slow breath.
His spider-sense flared. He jumped straight up. A drone whirred through the empty space beneath his boots. He reached out. He grabbed the drone's chassis mid-air. He twisted his core. He hurled it straight down into the asphalt. It shattered. He fired a web line purely on instinct. He caught an incoming drone. He whipped it around his head like a flail. He smashed it into a third drone. He landed lightly on his feet. He stepped down hard on a crawling drone. He grabbed another. He tore it in half with his bare hands.
He didn't need the tech. His reflexes were perfect.
A mechanical octopus-eye extended from a nearby sewer grate. The lens focused, recording every micro-movement.
Deep underground, Otto Octavius analyzed the live feed. He adjusted his thick goggles with a mechanical tentacle.
"Flawless," Otto whispered, his synthesized voice echoing in the lab. "Unmatched kinetic response. Even stripped of his sensory hardware, the Spider remains formidable."
Otto smiled. The arachnid was incredibly strong. But Otto knew exactly what to introduce to the ecosystem next.
The spider's natural predator. The Scorpion.