Chapter Text
This was not going well.
Spidey had been flipping around and dodging and throwing webs at a frustrating pace, for what was beginning to feel like hours.
For every hit he got in, he was dodging five more. Every now and then, one would land.
He especially hated Electro, solid hits from solid objects, he knew where it was coming from, knew how it would hurt. But Electro, it felt like his insides were burning, and his Spidey sense would scream incoherence, uncalibrated, zinging with danger from every direction unseen. It left him feeling, well, fried, hard to focus, hard to recover.
His Big Bads ™ had teamed up finally, centralizing their anti-Spider-Man efforts.
They wanted him dead, properly dead this time.
The level of coordination on their parts was impressive, as Scorpion tried to corner him into Vulture's wild wing swipe.
They had proclaimed themselves the Sinister Six, Peter wasn't gonna lie, he had snorted at that, but the Vulture, Rhino, Scorpion, Sandman, Electro and the Dr. Otto Octavius himself had been giving him a run for his money.
Peter had to admit, they had timed this rampage downtown perfectly, he was still recovering from a nasty hit on Tuesday from the Goblin. It had been on the news. That was yesterday.
Spidey flipped in mid-air and glanced down taking in the scene, before 'thwip, thwip' nailing Scorpion to the ground, tightly webbed to the pavement. His Spidey sense blared again suddenly, capitalizing on his growing headache, and Peter moved, dodging a Rhino leg that would have bashed his brains in. His Spidey sense screamed more in alarm as Peter juked right into Electro's open stance. Just touching the plasma that made up Maxwell Dillon zapped Spidey so hard onto the asphalt, that static briefly consumed his vision.
Not good.
He jerked upright, scanning his deteriorating odds. The Vulture had already cut Scorpion from his webby prison, and all six of the ugly baddies were looking him down, grins and smirks crossing their faces. They looked hungry, like predators.
And he was their prey.
Spidey jumped up again, fear trickling in now, giving renewed strength in desperation.
Where were the Avengers? Wasn't this big enough to attract their attention? Where was everybody?
Wade was out of town hunting down Francis again or something, and DD was in the middle of a massive case. No help there today.
"We have you now Spider!" The Rhino called tauntingly in his thick Russian accent.
They laughed haughtily, fighting these guys had never bothered Peter before, but this, this was bad.
"Don't get cocky on me fellas!" Spidey flipped, and webbed and dodged, but the Sinister Six, as they were, kept getting in lucky? shots.
Spidey was thrown across the asphalt again and again, roads cracked, the air flickering with electricity, windows shattering from missed hits.
Really not good.
This felt impossible, this looked impossible, and Peter quickly concluded that he was impossibly outnumbered, and finally, royally, fucked.
Can't stop.
Another hit, Sandman's giant fist throwing him into a wall. A crunch, a rush of blood as his nose broke this time.
People's lives at stake.
Spidey lands the throw on his feet, much more gracefully than he felt. Everything feels fuzzy, he’s running on instinct. Too much input, his brain burned. He leapt back in the fray, lobbing a deft right hook into Aleksei's armored face. A flash of bright blue white plasma threw him back, spasming wildly.
He could never get used to that. His head felt on backwards, his skin felt on fire. The Vulture surged forward for a strike.
"Don’t kick a man when he's down!" He quipped nasally as he skittered away, buying time. It lacked his usual finesse, but screw these guys.
Spidey huffed a breath, they just kept coming, relentless. Just as much as he was though.
Keep going.
Even bruised, burned and bloody, he launched himself swift and nimble, off the wall, and listened.
He let his body move as his Spidey sense demanded, machine-like, trying to be in tune.
My responsibility.
Hit after hit, blood on his lips, jaw swelling, arms cramping, Peter dished out as much as he could give, more than he ever had before. Evading another wild charge by the Rhino, Spidey webbed the Vulture midair and swung the flying mech suit violently into the dark titanium alloy armor of the Scorpion sending them tumbling. Spidey leapt from the ground, Spidey sense pinging, a metal claw striking where his feet had been, and launched a desperate fist towards Sandman’s head. Expecting a solid blow, Peter’s fist went through Marko’s disintegrating face as if it was air. Spidey landed wrong, sprawling. Peter saw it coming, felt it coming. Scorpion had already recovered, scuttling toward him, Otto lined up perfectly at twelve o'clock ahead of him. He was boxed in, it happened too quick, he had no footing.
In his panic, even his Spidey sense didn't know what to do. Scorpion nailed him in the chest with his stinger, lifting him up, Peter felt the barb rip through muscle, chip by bone, right under his collarbone. Peter yelled wildly, stuck on the barb, hands gripping so tightly into Scorpion's tail that the plates warped and bent.
Bad.
The worst.
Scorpion howled and threw Spidey off, and mid-skid, Peter felt a frighteningly cold metal arm seize him by the throat.
"I always wondered why you never invested in armor or the such. Would likely have helped tremendously." Otto said maliciously, "Too late now,".
No!
The arm tightened, Spidey choked, gasping. He slammed down with everything he had on the arm, but all he felt give was his hand breaking. The Six gathered close, through his bloodshot eyes, and debris-covered lens, Peter could see them. Treacherous, leering.
Not like this.
He could feel sticky heat sliding down under his suit, his shoulder slick and hot and trilling with agony. It throbbed and pulsed, stinging wildly, feeling wrong as venom spread, even as Peter fought to take a solid breath. Panic cramped his lungs, cramped his mind, stole his focus.
"I told you we could do it together, now look at what we have accomplished! We have finally squashed the Spider, it's almost fun to watch him squirm so," Otto crowed, almost crooning, "But enough of this,"
With no warning, Otto threw him, and Peter could do nothing to even try to land right. His Spidey sense screaming, Peter had no oxygen to do anything with.
Spidey smashed heavily into the concrete base of the nearest building. Blood splattered into his vision even as it went white, and he felt the concrete crack under him. Or was that him cracking?
The world stopped, the cacophony of senses silenced. Everything was too quiet, ringing filling in the space in Peter's ears. A black haze fuzzed at the edge of his sight. His head lolled, staring unblinkingly at the dusty grey concrete. He coughed in the dust, once, no strength left. His arms and legs refused to move.
So this is it.
Otto wasn't going to let him die quickly. They were going to make it slow, slower than it was already. He could hear their footsteps pattering in the road, he wished the black would take him already.
I don't want to be around for this part.
He thought briefly of Aunt May, of her bright soul missing him, finding out about his other life in such a brutal manner. He was resolute, there was no regret.
With great power comes great responsibility.
A pair of engineer boots stomped into his narrow field of sight.
Dr. Otto Octavius excitedly said "The great Spider laid low, such a nuisance for so long. Let's see who was hiding behind the mask all this time!" Otto sounded very far away to Peter.
His hearing warbled, in and out in phases, but he could hear the Six congratulating themselves, promising now to take their revenge on the city unchecked.
The one thought flitted through his rocked mind, a whisper.
Done.
Cold metal pinchers clenched the top of his mask and pulled, the mask slid off, lifting Peter's head with it. His head unfeelingly thumped back against the concrete once it was gone, red blood running down the side of his nose from where it had collected at his forehead. It dripped in a small crimson pool, invading his little circle image of grey concrete. Silence followed, only Peter’s shaky, ragged breaths prevaded the quiet. Everything was numb, Peter wasn't sure if he should be grateful for that.
He was naked, his anonymity gone. Aunt May would be fine, no reason to go after her if he was dead. Peter was okay with that. He could feel their eyes cutting through him, they were silent. Peter badly, desperately wanted to see, to face his end head on, see their reaction.
As if hearing his thoughts, cold pinchers grasped his swollen jaw and turned his head to meet his eyes. Peter's blurry vision was fizzing in and out now, static and black encroaching in, and while Otto's eyes were goggle-covered, his mouth was set now in a harsh line. The rest of the Sinister Six behind Otto looked battered, not excited anymore.
Peter was holding on now, trying to not slip away just yet, but he was losing now.
More red soaked his suit, his shoulder, his head, drip, drip. His eyes started flickering, rolling, spots behind his eyes, his nerves buzzing, needles everywhere. His Spidey sense was quiet now, dark filling in the spaces of his eyes.
Peter thought he heard Otto mutter "Just a child…?" as the pinchers withdrew. Time was slipping away. He felt floaty, disconnected, and his mind finally fled into the dark.