"I… succeeded?"
That was the first thought that crossed Professor Curt Connors' mind as he stared at his right arm.
It was whole.
Fingers flexed. Muscles responded. Nerves carried sensation perfectly. The limb that had been gone for years was back.
For a brief second, pure joy filled his chest.
But that joy lasted only a heartbeat.
"The Regeneration Serum works… I need to get it to Leo. I can still save him!"
In Metropolitan Hospital, a young boy named Leo was waiting. His illness was rare and cruel. Connors had promised himself that he would perfect the serum for Leo. That promise was the reason he injected himself in the first place.
He ignored the burning hunger twisting inside his stomach. Regeneration consumed enormous energy. His body felt weak and hot at the same time.
His pupils returned to normal. He was human again — at least for now.
But then—
Click.
Click.
Click.
More than fifty rifles were raised simultaneously.
Soldiers surrounded him in a wide circle, fingers on triggers.
Connors stepped back instinctively, raising both hands.
"I'm not a threat!"
At that moment, one of General Ross's scientific advisors spoke.
"General, all core Oscorp biotechnology data has been erased."
A minute earlier, that report would have sent Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross into a rage.
Now he simply smiled.
His face, still flushed red, looked strangely pleased.
"Professor Connors," Ross said warmly, "you woke up at exactly the right time."
Ross might not understand laboratory details, but he understood leverage.
Only two people had full authority over Oscorp's biological databases — Connors and Norman Osborn.
Osborn was already in custody, being transferred to Ravencroft.
That meant Connors was the key.
"Five men," Ross ordered calmly. "Escort Professor Connors to the workstation. Have him restore the deleted data."
Then he pointed at the cryogenic pod where Bruce Banner lay.
"I don't care why the pod malfunctioned. Open it. Strap Dr. Banner to the chair."
The metal chair stood nearby — layered with restraints, chains, sensors, tubes. It was not a seat.
It was a trap.
"General, please," Connors pleaded desperately. "Let me leave. Someone needs my serum to survive."
Ross didn't even look at him.
"You three — go to the twentieth floor. Retrieve Connors' research. I will conduct the blood experiments myself."
Five soldiers grabbed Connors' arms and dragged him forward.
"No!" Connors struggled. "I was once a soldier too! You know life matters!"
Ross stepped forward and grabbed Connors by the collar.
"If you were a soldier," Ross said quietly, "then you should understand what matters more than one life."
He leaned closer.
"Help me today, and your Regeneration Serum becomes the military's top medical project. You can save thousands of injured soldiers. Thousands."
He released Connors with visible impatience.
"Refuse… and you will regret it."
Before he could finish—
Whoosh!
Seven smoke bombs rolled across the rooftop.
White smoke exploded outward, swallowing everything.
From the edge of the building, a dark figure launched forward.
Black spider silk spread across the rooftop like a giant net.
Within seconds, every soldier became a trapped fish.
And the fisherman had arrived.
Spider-Man moved at full speed.
His torn cape snapped sharply in the air as he dashed through the smoke.
Spider-Sense guided him.
A soldier reached for his trigger — webbing snapped the weapon away.
Another turned his head — a Batarang struck his wrist.
A third tried to shout — a fist silenced him.
In five seconds, Ross's perfect formation collapsed.
Men dropped one by one.
Smoke swirled violently as Spider-Man cut through it like a blade.
Five seconds ago, Ross believed he had total control.
Now he realized he had been deceived.
The chaos on the tenth floor? Only the Batmobile.
The soldiers he had deployed downward? A distraction.
Spider-Man had never been trapped.
He had been watching.
Calculating.
Waiting.
Within moments, fifty soldiers lay unconscious.
Connors sat on the rooftop floor, dazed, surrounded by white smoke and fallen bodies.
He tried to stand and move, but strands of black webbing blocked him from every direction.
Anger flickered in his eyes.
His pupils shifted.
Vertical.
Golden.
"Professor," Spider-Man's voice echoed through the smoke, impossible to pinpoint. "I'm here to extract you and Dr. Banner. I won't harm you."
"My serum… Leo needs it…" Connors muttered.
His body began to itch violently.
Heat surged through him again.
His skull stretched slightly.
His jaw elongated.
Teeth sharpened.
Spider-Man saw it clearly.
The Regeneration Serum had not stabilized.
It had repaired the arm — but at a cost.
Connors' skin shifted to grayish green.
Scales erupted across his body.
Muscles expanded uncontrollably.
His spine cracked, elongating.
Hands twisted into talons.
When the smoke cleared completely—
Professor Connors was gone.
Professor Lizard stood in his place.
Towering over four meters tall.
Massive.
Predatory.
At that exact moment—
Drip.
The cryogenic pod beeped.
Liquid nitrogen: depleted.
The lid slid open fully.
Dr. Banner opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw—
A giant reptilian monster.
Soldiers scattered across the rooftop.
And General Ross lying among them.
Banner's breathing changed instantly.
Memories surged back.
The desert.
The gamma bomb.
Betrayal.
Hunting.
Experimentation.
He looked directly at Ross.
"General… Ross…"
His heart rate spiked.
Spider-Man felt it.
Banner's muscles tensed.
Veins bulged.
The Lizard roared, sensing new prey.
Spider-Man's mind raced.
Two monsters.
One rooftop.
Zero room for error.
Banner clenched his fists.
"I was done running," he whispered.
His skin began turning green.
Bones expanded.
Clothes tore apart.
A roar erupted from deep inside his chest.
It was not human.
It was rage.
The Hulk was born again.
The rooftop trembled under his weight.
Helicopters above swerved in panic.
Ross stared in horror.
This was what he wanted.
And what he feared.
The Lizard hissed, baring fangs.
The Hulk roared back.
Two titans locked eyes.
Spider-Man stood between them for half a second.
Then he leaped away just as—
HULK SMASHED.
Concrete shattered under a single step.
The rooftop cracked.
The battle had begun.
And this time—
It was not about plans.
It was about rage.
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