"I'm actually a little curious about something," Peter said, walking down the pristine, sweeping corridors of the Triskelion. "Did you not officially join the Avengers because you're a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or because Loki brainwashed you and you almost crashed a Helicarrier, nearly wiping out the entire team at thirty thousand feet?"
Walking slightly ahead of Peter and Cindy, Clint Barton stopped in his tracks. He felt like the ceiling was about to cave in on him. Couldn't this kid just ask normal teenager questions?
"I... I guess they think it's pointless for a guy without any actual superpowers to join the roster," Hawkeye replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You've got a billionaire with a localized fusion reactor in his chest, a hundred-year-old popsicle, a giant naked green rage monster, a couple who can shrink and grow, a humanoid spider, and a literal god."
Peter, not quite ready to let the topic go, pressed on. "But you're amazing! You practically dismantled S.H.I.E.L.D. single-handedly when you were compromised!"
"You're right," Clint sighed, rubbing his temples. "I almost wiped out S.H.I.E.L.D. single-handedly while working for Loki, but I can't even seem to take down a few street-level bad guys while working for Nick Fury. So, can we please stop talking about my track record?"
Faced with Peter Parker's relentless interrogation about his darkest professional moment, Hawkeye deeply regretted trying to make small talk. He was supposed to be taking two superpowered kids on a VIP tour of the base, not undergoing psychological torture.
"Okay, okay," Peter relented, smoothly pivoting to a new topic. "Oh, by the way, do you know Benjamin Poindexter? Bullseye? Who's a better shot between the two of you?"
"Poindexter?" Hawkeye exhaled, finally finding a topic he could comfortably answer. "It's hard to say. Let's put it this way: both of us can turn virtually anything into a lethal projectile and hit our mark every single time. But I'm vastly superior with a bow and arrow, and I prefer to take the high ground for tactical strikes. Poindexter is... unstable. The fact that Nick chose to recruit me over him when he was still an NSA agent proves Fury didn't think the guy could replace me."
"Alright, here we are," Clint announced, gesturing through a set of double doors. "The S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria."
The three of them stepped into the massive dining hall. It was surprisingly mundane—just long tables, fluorescent lights, and agents eating in uniform.
Peter opened his mouth to make a joke about the food quality, but suddenly gasped, his hands flying to the sides of his head. A sharp, piercing static drilled into the base of his skull. He immediately exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Cindy. Her posture had gone completely rigid, her dark eyes darting around the room in alarm.
"What's wrong?" Clint noticed their shift in demeanor instantly. With a flick of his wrist, his collapsible tactical bow extended into his grip. He didn't nock an arrow, but his eyes swept the cafeteria, instantly scanning for threats.
"We're sensing danger," Peter said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper. "But it's omnidirectional. I don't know exactly where it's coming from. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. escort supervillains through this building?"
"Absolutely not. S.H.I.E.L.D. has off-site, specialized black sites for holding hostiles," Clint said, tapping the comms earpiece in his ear. "Dispatch, I need an immediate perimeter sweep and a lockdown check on all Triskelion entry points."
Clint looked back at the two teens. "You guys stay right here. Order a sandwich or something. Let S.H.I.E.L.D. handle the risk assessment. Don't make a move until I give the all-clear."
Peter watched Hawkeye jog off toward the kitchen corridors. "Do you think he's benching us because he's worried about Nick Fury losing face if a couple of teenagers save the base?"
Cindy didn't answer. She was staring at the floor, her fists clenched.
Peter looked back toward the center of the cafeteria. The buzzing in his head hadn't faded; it was amplifying, vibrating with a sickening, urgent intensity. Before he could ask Cindy another question, the Spider-Sense practically screamed.
DOWN!
"Move!" Peter shouted.
Peter and Cindy leaped backward in perfect synchronization just as the linoleum floor between them violently exploded.
Concrete, steel rebar, and shattered tiles showered the cafeteria. A monstrous figure hauled itself out of the breached floorboards, storming into the heart of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.
It was unmistakably a symbiote.
The creature towered at over eight feet tall. Its massive, muscular chassis was primarily a sickly, dark green, but its shoulders and upper torso were covered in a thick, viscous red biomass. Four enormous, razor-sharp whip-like tentacles thrashed wildly from its back. Its jagged maw twisted into a ferocious, terrifying grin.
[Lasher...] Venom murmured darkly in the back of Peter's mind.
"Hello!" Peter called out, stepping between the monster and the fleeing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. "I'm guessing you aren't here for the taco Tuesday special, right? You look a little tense. How about we just sit down and grab a bite?"
"The only thing we want to devour is YOU, traitor!" the green monster roared, its voice echoing with dual resonance. "I am Lasher!"
Thwip!
Before the symbiote could take another step, a thick strand of webbing splattered directly across its right arm, pinning it to its own chest. Lasher blinked, its milky white eyes widening in confusion as it stared at Spider-Man.
"Why do bad guys always wait until after they finish their dramatic monologue to introduce themselves?" Peter quipped.
Peter gripped the web-line and yanked with all his superhuman might. Lasher was ripped entirely off its feet, dragged through the air directly toward Peter.
Spider-Man crouched and launched himself upward, delivering a devastating, full-force uppercut right under the symbiote's jaw, immediately following it up with a brutal flying kick to the creature's chest.
Lasher crashed into a cafeteria table, splintering it into kindling. The green symbiote staggered backward, shaking its head in absolute bewilderment. It was bonded to a highly trained, physically prime mercenary. It was supposed to be a lethal killing machine. Why was the traitor so incredibly strong? Was Spider-Man's host truly this special?
[I suggest we run away,] Venom's voice vibrated urgently in Peter's skull.
"Run away? Are you kidding me?" Peter said aloud, pointing at the groggy green monster. "He doesn't look that tough! Wait—do you sense the others? Are they here too?"
Hearing the traitor casually dismiss him sent Lasher into a state of blind, unadulterated rage.
"GRAAAAH!" Lasher morphed its free arm into a dense, spiked whip and lashed out with blinding speed. Peter simply sidestepped, caught the whip bare-handed, spun on his heel, and violently slammed Lasher into the reinforced concrete wall. The impact rattled the entire floor.
"Cindy!" Peter shouted, not taking his eyes off the cratered wall. "Help security evacuate the remaining agents! Tell the armory we need high-frequency sonic cannons and incendiary weapons! Standard bullets won't do anything to this guy!"
"Got it!" Cindy shouted back, already sprinting toward the terrified stragglers to shepherd them out the emergency exits.
Peter fired two rapid-fire web blasts, pinning the thrashing tentacles on Lasher's back to the concrete. He bounded forward, unleashing a blinding flurry of heavy punches and kicks against the trapped symbiote.
"I'll hold him off!" Peter yelled over his shoulder to Cindy. "Don't worry, this guy is no match for me!"
"I AM NO MATCH FOR YOU?!" The sheer disrespect shattered the last of Lasher's restraint. The red and green symbiote tore its tentacles free from the webbing, lunged forward, and grabbed Peter by the shoulders. With a thunderous roar, Lasher attempted to chokeslam Spider-Man into the floor tiles.
But Peter's reflexes were too fast. Mid-air, Peter twisted his body, grabbed Lasher's massive forearm, used the creature's own momentum against it, and violently slammed the symbiote face-first into the floor instead.
Peter landed lightly in a crouch beside the groaning alien.
"Yeah," Peter said, dusting off his hands. "You're clearly no match for me. Isn't that obvious?"
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