For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The name echoed in the cavernous, humming space of the warehouse, a chilling acronym that landed with the weight of a tombstone. M.O.D.O.K.
From their perch in the ventilation shaft, Spider-Man and Wonder Woman stared down at the unfolding scene, the full, horrifying scope of A.I.M.'s project laid bare.
"M.O.D.O.K.," Spider-Man whispered, the name a venomous rasp in his throat. His mind, a repository of fringe science and theoretical weaponry, instantly processed the acronym. "Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing. It's... it's a theoretical concept. A biological supercomputer with psionic capabilities, designed to calculate combat probabilities with perfect efficiency. A living weapon."
"They are not creating a soldier," Wonder Woman murmured, her voice a low, grim whisper that was barely audible over the thrumming of the machinery. "They are forging a god of war."
They watched as the lead scientist, a short, balding man whose voice crackled with a chilling, proprietary pride, addressed his team. "The final power surge is stable. Initiate the synaptic imprinting sequence. Once the combat directives are uploaded, we will awaken the asset."
A cold dread washed over Peter. This wasn't just a birth; it was an indoctrination. They were about to pour a lifetime of tactical knowledge and murderous intent into that nascent, powerful mind. Whatever humanity might have been left in the creature in the tank was about to be systematically erased, replaced by pure, calculated malice.
"We have to stop them," Spider-Man said, his voice hard, the usual playful edge completely gone. "We can't let that thing wake up."
"A direct assault is unwise," Wonder Woman countered, her strategic mind already assessing the battlefield. "There are at least a dozen armed soldiers in addition to the science team. They will activate the creature at the first sign of a breach."
"So we don't give them a sign," he whispered back, his own plan forming with a desperate clarity. He pointed down through the grate. "Look. The control panel. It's wired directly to the power core and the bio-infusion pumps. If I can get to it, I can use a localized EMP to fry the systems. It won't destroy the machine, but it should shut down the activation sequence. A surgical strike."
"It is heavily guarded," she noted.
"That's where you come in," he said, turning to her. "I'll go in low and fast, stick to the shadows. I need a distraction. Something big. Something loud. Something that draws every eye in the room."
She looked at him, her gaze a perfect, unreadable calm in the dim light of the vents. She understood the symbiosis of the plan instantly. He was the scalpel; she was the thunder.
"I can be loud," she stated, the words a simple, profound understatement.
"On my mark," he said, his body coiling, every muscle taut. "When you hear the commotion, I'll have thirty seconds, max, before they realize what's happening."
She gave a single, sharp nod.
He slipped from the main duct into a smaller, secondary shaft, his movements utterly silent, a spider descending its thread. He crawled through the narrow space, the cold metal pressing against his suit, until he was positioned directly over a dark, shadowed corner of the warehouse, far from the central chamber. He waited, his heart a frantic, muffled drum against his ribs.
He watched as Wonder Woman dropped from the main ventilation shaft at the far end of the warehouse. She did not land silently. She landed with the force of a meteor strike, the concrete floor cracking under the impact, the sound a deafening BOOM that echoed through the cavernous space like a thunderclap.
Every head in the room snapped in her direction. Alarms blared to life, bathing the warehouse in a frantic, strobing red light. A.I.M. soldiers, armed with advanced energy rifles, immediately formed a perimeter, their weapons raised.
"Do not let her near the asset!" the lead scientist screamed, his voice a shrill note of panic. "Engage! Engage!"
Wonder Woman stood amidst the chaos, a figure of serene, unshakeable power. She didn't charge. She didn't move. She simply crossed her arms, deflecting the first volley of energy blasts with her indestructible vambraces, the impacts creating a shower of golden sparks. She was a mountain. An immovable object. She was the perfect distraction.
That was his signal.
While every eye was fixed on the impossible woman who had just fallen from the sky, Spider-Man dropped from his hiding place. He was a whisper in the shadows, a fleeting suggestion of movement. He web-zipped from one piece of machinery to another, a red-and-blue blur that was lost in the strobing emergency lights and the chaos of the firefight.
He reached the main control panel, a complex array of glowing screens and manual overrides, completely undetected. He had ten seconds. His fingers flew over his suit's wrist-mounted interface, programming the micro-EMP device.
He saw Wonder Woman deflect another volley of blasts, the concussive force of them barely making her flinch. But she was being pushed back, the sheer volume of fire a relentless, overwhelming force. He was running out of time.
"Almost there, almost there," he muttered, the timer on his display counting down. 3... 2... 1...
He slapped the device onto the side of the main console. A low thrum and a flash of blue light, and every screen on the panel went dark. The hum from the bio-infusion pumps faltered and died. The furious glow of the power core dimmed to a dull, angry red. He had done it.
A triumphant grin spread across his face under his mask. But it vanished an instant later.
"The activation sequence has been compromised!" one of the scientists shrieked. "It's been manually overridden!"
The lead scientist, his face a mask of pale, sweating terror, looked from the dead control panel to the embattled Wonder Woman, and then to the M.O.D.O.K. cylinder. He knew he had lost. In a final, desperate act of spite, he lunged for a large, red, glass-encased lever on the wall next to the cylinder—a manual emergency power surge.
"NO!" Spider-Man roared, firing a web to intercept him, but he was too late.
The scientist slammed the lever down. "If I cannot control it," he screamed, a mad, triumphant glee in his eyes, "then no one will! ACTIVATE!"
A deafening klaxon began to blare. A surge of raw, unfiltered power from the subterranean lines flooded the cylinder. The cryo-condenser pipes exploded in a shower of ice and shrapnel. The greenish-blue fluid inside began to boil, flashing with a furious, uncontrollable light. The figure within the tank, the nascent M.O.D.O.K., began to convulse violently, its massive head thrashing from side to side. A high-pitched, psychic scream echoed in the room, a sound that wasn't heard with the ears, but felt directly in the mind, a wave of pure, undiluted agony and rage.
The cylinder began to crack, thin, spiderwebbing fractures spreading across its crystalline surface.
Spider-Man and Wonder Woman froze, their battle with the A.I.M. soldiers forgotten. They were no longer trying to prevent a birth. They were now at ground zero of an explosion, and standing at the heart of the coming storm was a newborn god of death, waking up to a world of pain and screaming for its first kill.
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