"I'm special? Thanks for the endorsement, Mysterio, but my inbox is already drowning in extracurricular invites."
Peter stood on the side of a brick building, completely perpendicular to the ground. He flicked the dial on his web-shooter. The mechanism clicked into electric-shock mode.
"Why don't you surrender now?" Peter called out into the dark. "I know a precinct captain who keeps chocolate ice cream in the interrogation room mini-fridge."
"I mean that we are very much alike, Spider-Man."
Peter's lenses narrowed. He stared at the giant, floating illusion of Mysterio. What kind of pseudo-psychological garbage was this?
"You are different from the other so-called heroes," Mysterio's voice boomed from every direction. "You wear a mask. You hide your true face from the world. Just like me."
"Bank robbers wear masks too, man!" Peter yelled back. "Are you saying we're all just one big happy family of felons?"
Peter checked his HUD. The sonar feed isolated a physical acoustic signature hovering ten yards away. Peter fired a taser-web. The line snapped taut against an invisible solid object. Peter yanked the web hard. The invisible figure stumbled forward into the open air. Peter launched himself off the wall and drove a heavy right hook directly into the glass fishbowl.
He expected the glass to shatter.
Instead, the entire head popped clean off the shoulders. The sonar feed updated instantly. The headless body simply hovered in mid-air.
"Why not?" the headless Mysterio asked calmly. "A robber only finds his courage when his face is covered. You are only a hero when you are hidden."
The darkness rippled. A dozen identical Mysterios materialized in a circle around Peter. Every single one of them held their detached glass head under their right arm.
"Admit it, Spider-Man," the chorus of voices echoed. "You are just like me. You are terrified. Without the mask, you fear their judgment. You fear the disappointment of those who believe in you. The mask is your only escape from the crushing weight of their expectations."
Peter landed back on the brick wall in a tight crouch. "Are you projecting, Quentin? I didn't realize this was a therapy session. I left my copay in my other suit."
He shot a web line, snagged the nearest Mysterio, and violently slammed it against the masonry. The body shattered on impact.
Peter dropped to the rooftop. He didn't use full strength. He crouched down and picked up a piece of the wreckage. Frayed wiring and servo-motors spilled out of a torn metal chassis.
"Robots?" Peter tossed the scrap metal aside. "Please tell me you aren't just hiding in a basement while your toys do the work."
"Of course not," Mysterio whispered from right behind him. "I told you. If you wish to stop me, you must find me."
Peter turned. Another Mysterio stood on the ledge.
"You deflect with sarcasm," Mysterio said. "But I know those jokes do not come from the boy beneath the mask. Only when we cover our faces can we unleash our true selves."
Mysterio raised a gloved hand.
Thick, emerald mist aggressively swirled around Peter. Peter looked down. His red and blue suit vanished. The optical illusion painted a segmented green survival suit and a heavy purple cape perfectly over his body.
"Wow, Quentin," Peter said, waving his newly projected cape. "Is this supposed to make me literally see things from your perspective?"
"No," Mysterio said smoothly. "But it will dictate how he sees you."
Mysterio faded into the air. The pitch-black void shattered, revealing the actual Manhattan skyline.
Standing on the adjacent rooftop was Johnny Storm. The Human Torch was already furious from being tricked and dropped out of the sky. Now, he was staring directly at Peter. And thanks to the illusion, all Johnny saw was Mysterio standing triumphantly on the ledge.
White-hot, roaring fire erupted across Johnny's entire body.
Peter's mechanical lenses widened as far as the shutters would allow. "Is it too late to join an Arctic expedition?"
In Central Park, Iron Man braced his boots against the dirt. Dozens of combat drones swarmed him in a tight perimeter, laying down a relentless barrage of heavy suppressive fire.
Tony Stark raised his arms. "JARVIS. Blow it."
A massive, omni-directional electromagnetic pulse erupted from the Silver Centurion armor.
The invisible drones instantly short-circuited. Sparks showered from their cloaking panels. The entire swarm dropped out of the sky like dead weight, crashing into the grass.
"EMP," Tony muttered. "Never goes out of style."
He walked over to a smoking drone and ripped the top chassis off. He reached inside and yanked out a delicate, spherical optical projector.
"JARVIS, run a structural analysis on this."
"The device is actively rewriting localized optical data, sir," JARVIS replied. "Visual scanning is severely compromised."
Tony patched his comms to the Tower sub-basement. "Hank? Tell me you've cracked the circus magician's old tech."
"It's not that simple, Tony," Hank Pym's voice crackled over the line. "Based on the prototype Spider-Man recovered, these projectors shouldn't be capable of real-time environmental rendering. They were designed for static, pre-rendered illusions. Quentin Beck completely rewrote the architecture. The man is a genius."
Tony rolled his eyes inside the helmet. "You said the exact same thing about Ulysses Klaue's sonic cannon. Stop fanboying over supervillains."
Tony switched to the Avengers tactical channel. "Hank, keep digging. Find a kill switch. And lock your lab door so you don't start hallucinating. Cap, have JARVIS fabricate sonar goggles. These illusions are rendered by a drone network. You shoot down the drones, the network collapses."
"Wasp," Tony continued. "You're on the most critical mission."
"What is it, Tony?" Janet asked over the comms.
"Snack duty. Get the Hulk some chips, put on a movie, and keep him on the couch. The absolute last thing we need right now is a confused, angry green giant tearing through a blinded city."
Tony powered up his repulsors.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted. "Update from Spider-Man's coordinates. Mysterio is deploying highly advanced bionic mannequins."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. Life Model Decoys," Tony sighed. "Add that to the invoice. Damage Control is going to bill Nick Fury directly."
"Additionally, Spider-Man is currently engaged in combat with the Human Torch."
"Susan's idiot brother?" Tony shook his head. "Let me guess, Beck tricked him again. I'm en route to play referee."
Iron Man rocketed into the sky, tearing toward Queens.
CLANG.
He slammed face-first into an invisible drone. The Silver Centurion armor violently tailspinned. Tony fired his stabilizers, barely catching himself before he hit a skyscraper.
"Warning," JARVIS stated. "Mysterio's drone perimeter is extensive. Due to the latency of acoustic sonar imaging, I recommend restricting your flight velocity to under 180 miles per hour."
"My grandmother drives faster than that," Tony grumbled.
The thrusters flared at a fraction of their normal output. Iron Man awkwardly puttered toward the battlefield.
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