The children immediately cried out in alarm, instinctively shrinking back and huddling closer to Gabriela. Their small faces were etched with unease and terror.
However, one girl was an exception.
The young Wolverine, Laura Kinney, calmly took her worn X-Men comic book and tucked it into her pink cartoon backpack. Then, she dropped to all fours, lowering her center of gravity. A low, threatening growl rumbled deep in her throat.
She adopted a perfect, beast-like stance. In her tender yet sharp eyes, a fierce, almost wolf-like glint shone as she fixated on the uninvited guest in the shadows.
"Laura, don't." A flicker of tenderness crossed Gabriela's eyes. She lowered her shotgun slightly, pulling the crouching girl tightly into her embrace.
Her hand stroked Laura's back, trying to soothe the wildness surging within her. Under that gentle caress, the ferocity in the little girl's eyes receded slightly, but her body remained tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap at the first sign of aggression.
Clang! Clang!
The sound of heavy boots hitting the metal floor was like a countdown from the God of Death. The figure shrouded in shadow finally stepped into the light.
The newcomer sported a slicked-back pompadour and wore a pair of brown-tinted glasses, feigning an air of refinement. But beneath his cuff, a mechanical arm glinted with cold, harsh light. When he spoke, a large gold tooth flashed in his mouth.
Donald Pierce.
The loyal dog of the Alkali Institute, and a mercenary leader known for his cruelty.
With his appearance, a flood of fully armed mercenaries poured out from the passages on both sides of the corridor. Their firearms snapped up in unison. Dozens of cold laser sights instantly painted Peter and the children, completing a tight, inescapable encirclement.
"I finally found you."
His cold voice sounded as if it were being squeezed through clenched teeth.
"Damn Mutants. You had perfectly good cages to stay in. Why did you have to go and cause me all this trouble?"
Donald, fresh from a chewing-out by Dr. Rice over the phone, slowly removed his glasses. His eyes fixed on Spider-Man, who was perched diagonally above him on the wall. It was clear his definition of "Mutant" included the Wall-Crawler.
"It's showtime. Go get him."
There was no negotiation. The order was given casually, directed at the killing machine lurking within his team.
Before anyone noticed, a powerfully built man emerged from the shadow behind Donald. His muscles were exaggerated to an almost grotesque degree.
He had a messy beard and eyes that were completely blank—cold voids devoid of human emotion. Most strikingly, from his knuckles, three Adamantium claws extended with a chilling snikt.
Screech—!
A teeth-grinding noise echoed through the corridor. The steel claws casually scraped across the concrete wall, slicing through it like a hot knife through butter, leaving three terrifying, bottomless gashes.
He exuded a violent aura, like a primal beast born purely for destruction.
"It's X-24!" Gabriela blurted out, her breath hitching. She raised the shotgun again, shielding the children with her body. "They... they really did create you!"
X-24!!
Peter immediately accessed the relevant files from his merged memories.
Wolverine. Logan's clone. A perfect killing machine without a soul or emotions. Codenamed Weapon X.
But... something was off.
Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing lightly on his feet. He straightened up, curiously comparing their heights from a distance.
This X-24 looked burly, fierce, and muscular, but he was surprisingly... short. He barely came up to Peter's chest. Estimating his own height at 1.85 meters, this "Wolverine" was probably barely pushing 1.6 meters.
"Wow..." Peter couldn't help himself. "Buddy, were you severely malnourished as a kid? Or did Alkali's cloning tech forget the growth hormones? I get it now. You became so cynical and stabby because the other kids made fun of you during recess, didn't they?"
Peter's motormouth was fully engaged, his relentless trash talk attempting to break the deadly tension. X-24 didn't flinch; he was a weapon, devoid of ego, impervious to insults.
But Donald Pierce couldn't take it.
"Enough! You annoying little bug! I swear, I'll stitch your stinking mouth shut with the thickest needle I can find! Let's see how you ramble then! Fuck you!"
"Hey, language, you discount Winter Soldier from Temu," Peter chided, even with countless muzzles pointed at his chest. "First off, I'm not a bug, I'm Spider-Man. Second, biologically speaking, spiders are not insects; they belong to the phylum Arthropoda, class Arachnida. I feel it's necessary to clarify this for the honor of my species."
When it came to spider-facts, Peter refused to compromise.
"FUCK!!" Veins bulged on Donald Pierce's forehead, his teeth grinding audibly. "X24! What are you waiting for?! Tear this stinking crawler apart! Rip out his tongue first!"
The Wolverine Clone moved.
His back arched sharply, legs exploding with terrifying power completely disproportionate to his size. He shot forward like a missile, those ruthless Adamantium claws plunging straight toward Peter's face.
Peter executed a nimble sidestep, narrowly avoiding the fatal blow. Simultaneously, he flicked his wrist, shooting a web directly at X-24's face to blind him.
"Honestly, my mouth doesn't smell at all." Peter moved at high speed, dancing around X-24's storm of claw attacks, but his mouth never stopped moving.
"I brush every morning and night, use fluoride toothpaste, floss—most of the time—and eat a balanced diet. My gums are pristine. But you, with that big gold tooth? That gumline looks inflamed. You really should see a dentist about that gingivitis..."
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Donald Pierce lost it. He raised his automatic rifle and frantically sprayed bullets at the dodging Spider-Man. "When I turn you into a sieve, let's see if you can even let out a squeak! DIE, BUG!"
BANG BANG BANG BANG—!!
The rifle spat fire. Bullets whistled through the air like torrential rain, enveloping Peter's position.
However, the next second, something incredibly bizarre happened.
Donald Pierce suddenly felt his hands go light. An irresistible force seized his weapon. His frantically firing rifle... slipped from his grasp. It wasn't knocked away. It simply... floated.
Defying all laws of physics, the gun hovered in mid-air.
A wisp of smoke still curled from the barrel, but the firing had stopped instantly, like a mute choked by an invisible hand. It hung there, eerily, less than a foot from Pierce's open palm.
Everyone, including the mercenaries, froze. Time seemed to stop.
Only Peter Parker, now hanging upside down from the ceiling again, slowly curved the corner of his mouth beneath his mask.
His finger was pointed directly at the floating rifle, making an extremely subtle... come hither motion.
Meanwhile, in the penthouse lounge of Stark Tower.
Tony Stark, recovering from a night of partying, woke up rubbing his throbbing head.
"Hiss... Jarvis, what time is it?"
"Sir, it is almost noon. Ms. Potts came to look for you earlier, found you were still asleep, and left."
"Also, you asked me to keep an eye on Peter Parker. Two hours ago, an explosion occurred in an alley at 15 Chinatown, Flushing, Queens. Residual fragments from Spider-Man's suit and a broken camera were detected at the scene. According to drone footage, he appears to have been abducted."
Ever since Tony had recommended Spider-Man for the Avengers initiative, he had Jarvis monitor the kid to prevent any rookie mistakes.
Hearing that the Little Spider had been taken, Tony's hangover vanished instantly.
"The kid was attacked? Why didn't you lead with that?! Pull up the surveillance. Track Peter Parker's current location. Now!"
"Sir, the location has already been triangulated by the dispatched drones. We are waiting for your command."