Harsh red emergency lights strobed across the underground corridor. A blaring automated klaxon echoed through the base, accompanied by a cold, synthesized voice ticking down a five-minute self-destruct sequence.
It took Peter less than two.
He ducked under a vicious swipe. The mercenary hissed, bearing elongated fangs. Peter fired a web-line, blinding the man, before sweeping his legs out. The mercenary hit the floor hard. Peter grabbed the man's heavily modified, scaly tail. He hauled the giant snake-man upward. Moving with blinding speed, Peter grabbed the other three unconscious mercenaries. He twisted their elongated bodies together. With a sharp tug, he tied them into a literal, tight knot. He dropped the tangled heap of scales and tactical gear onto the floor.
"I totally get the branding," Peter said, shaking out his wrists. "You call yourselves the 'Viper Gang.' It's very intimidating. But did you guys seriously have to genetically splice yourselves into actual snakes? A cool leather jacket and a back-patch would have done the job just fine."
A deafening crash shattered the heavy steel doors of the adjacent laboratory.
Felicia Hardy darted through the smoke. She executed a flawless backward handspring out of the room. Mid-flip, she tossed a thick, reinforced glass canister directly at Peter.
Peter reacted instantly. He fired a quick web-line, snatching the canister out of the air. He pulled it into his hand. Inside the glass, a mass of inky black sludge writhed. It pushed aggressively against the reinforced walls.
Peter's stomach dropped. He froze, staring at the swirling dark mass. Wait. I know that black goo. That's a symbiote. If this universe has a Knull waking up somewhere in the dark, I am officially filing a complaint with the multiverse.
"Where did you even get this—" Peter started. "Whoa!"
A massive, metallic monstrosity smashed through the remaining frame of the lab door.
A heavy life-support pod hovered in the air, suspended by four incredibly thick, articulated titanium tentacles. The mechanical arms ground against the floor panels, sparking as they pushed the machine forward. The creature inside the pod lashed out. It shoved four similar glass canisters onto a hovering extraction drone.
Then, one of the massive mechanical claws snapped outward. It gripped a heavy industrial forklift. With a terrifying whine of servos, the tentacle hurled the forklift directly at Felicia.
Felicia glanced back. Her boots hit the floor. She calculated her dodge, preparing to leap toward the ventilation shaft.
She didn't have to. Peter launched himself off the wall. He intercepted the flying machinery mid-air. He delivered a brutal flying kick directly to the forklift's chassis. The metal groaned. The heavy machine reversed direction, crashing violently into the far wall.
Landing in a crouch, Peter webbed the symbiote canister and tossed it right back to Felicia.
"Don't drop it!" Felicia caught the glass cylinder smoothly against her chest. "There's an extremely dangerous bio-weapon inside."
"Yeah, I picked up on that!" Peter yelled back.
"So why exactly did you steal it?"
Felicia flashed a quick, sharp grin. "Who knows? Last time they were hoarding Super Soldier Serum. Today it's this weird slime. We have to get something out of them eventually."
She didn't say the word Hydra.
Peter appreciated the professionalism. That was the agreement they had struck. They both knew exactly who funded this underground black-site. But saying the name out loud changed the rules of engagement. If they kept the conflict framed as a battle against a rogue US military operation, Hydra would stay in the shadows, believing their deep-cover infiltration remained a secret. Exposing them outright would trigger a scorched-earth retaliation. Peter simply didn't know how deep Hydra's roots went into the government. He needed more room to maneuver before starting a war he couldn't finish.
A grinding screech of tearing metal interrupted his thoughts.
Otto Octavius was furious. Watching Spider-Man ruin yet another meticulously laid plan pushed him over the edge. Two of his mechanical tentacles stabbed into the ground. They ripped a massive section of steel floorboards completely free. He whipped the heavy metal plating forward, smashing it toward Peter's head. If the base was self-destructing anyway, he was going to tear it apart himself.
Peter leaped straight up. The metal plate slammed into the wall below him. He flipped over the debris, finally getting a clear look at the Doctor Octopus of his own universe.
"Go find the survivors!" Peter yelled to Felicia.
He dropped gracefully onto the scarred metal floor. He flicked his wrists. Two lines of webbing splattered directly across the reinforced glass of Otto's viewing port.
"I've heard so much about you, Doc Ock!" Peter called out.
The mechanical tentacles whipped upward. Sharp metallic claws tore the webbing away in shreds. Otto's face glared through the glass. He was completely encased in the pod. His actual limbs were drawn inward, useless and atrophied. His voice echoed through an external speaker, buzzing with harsh, synthetic static.
This Otto was entirely paralyzed. The metal arms weren't just tools; they were his actual body. And because of that, his control was absolute. His movements were vastly superior to the female variant Peter had fought on Earth-700. The mechanical joints flexed with terrifying fluidity. Even when Peter managed to shoot a web to tangle two of the arms together, the claws rotated and sliced themselves free in a fraction of a second.
"Considering your indomitable spirit despite your disability," Peter quipped, ducking under a brutal sweeping strike, "I highly suggest you just surrender! How does that sound?"
Otto didn't answer. He lashed out with three tentacles simultaneously.
Peter evaded, flipping backward. He pushed off the wall. He remained entirely on the defensive. He knew he could end this fight quickly. His new second-mutation powers—invisibility and bio-electric blasts—were completely unaccounted for in Otto's tactical programming. Otto was already growing anxious, realizing his current sensors couldn't track Spider-Man's enhanced speed.
But Peter held back. He could rip the mechanical arms apart, but the man inside was fragile. Otto was locked inside a life-support system. A single miscalculated punch could shatter the pod and kill him instantly. Peter couldn't risk it. Besides, Doctor Octopus was deeply connected to Norman Osborn. Dead men didn't answer questions.
Peter grabbed one of the incoming tentacles. He planted his feet, preparing to leverage his strength and tear the metallic leg at the joint.
Spider-sense spiked. A sharp needle of pain hit the base of Peter's skull.
The reinforced wall to his right exploded outward.
Concrete dust flooded the corridor. A massive, heavily armored tactical tank rolled through the breach, crushing the debris beneath its treads. A woman stood perfectly balanced in the open top hatch. She wore a striking green combat uniform.
Madame Viper.
She surveyed the chaotic room with absolute, clinical detachment. She checked the self-destruct countdown timer, then pointed a gloved finger toward the hovering extraction drone.
"Doctor Octavius," she commanded. Her voice cut clearly through the noise of the grinding tank treads. "Execute the evacuation order."
"But the first symbiote sample—" Otto's synthesized voice cracked with angry protest.
"You scientists are far more valuable than the samples." Madame Viper locked her cold gaze on Spider-Man as he clung to the ceiling. She didn't blink. "Retreat immediately, Doctor."
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