"Boss!" "Leader!"
The Spiders kept anxiously turning their heads toward the epicenter of the blast. The little Spider, whose mouth had been practically blessed by a sorcerer, couldn't help but worryingly mutter again:
"The Boss... he's gonna be okay, right?" "I mean, that was an all-out, unmitigated strike from Thor the Thunder God! It looked totally..."
Before he could even finish his sentence, the surrounding Spiders turned on him, glaring fiercely:
"Shut your jinx of a mouth!"
The little Spider opened his mouth to protest, but ultimately surrendered to the peer pressure, looking utterly aggrieved as he mimed zipping his lips shut.
In stark contrast to the panicked Spider-Army was Mr. Fantastic. Reed let out a long, shuddering breath, a wave of profound relief washing over his face.
Finally... they had finally neutralized this monster! Though the methodology had crossed into underhanded territory, for the sake of protecting the world, it was entirely justified!
But just as the thought solidified in his super-genius intellect, another terrifying, glaring discrepancy forced its way into his deduction.
Wait. Something is wrong! Highly, completely wrong!
If this alternate version of Peter Parker treasured that black-and-white-suited Spider-Girl so intensely, why hadn't she shown a single hint of panic or reaction when Thor's divine lightning struck him down?
Realizing this critical flaw, Reed instinctively snapped his head around to look at Gwen. He saw her ignoring Peter's direction entirely.
Instead, capitalizing on Tony Stark being momentarily distracted by the lightning display, she utilized her active symbiote mass to completely clog and weld shut the firing barrels of Iron Man's weapon systems.
Immediately following that, she locked Tony into a flawless, high-altitude seismic toss. The Golden Avenger plummeted headfirst from the sky.
If not for the heavy structural dampening of his armor, that single impact would have been a definitive "Goodnight, time for bed."
The casual nonchalance of her execution caused a wave of psychological horror to prickle across Reed's scalp. And almost at the exact millisecond that dread gripped him, a distinct, mocking voice echoed clearly from the fading electrical discharge:
"I regret to inform you that the net damage inflicted upon my person... was exactly zero~"
"Furthermore, replication progress is at 100%. You underhanded scoundrel, are you prepared to be dismantled by your own gift?"
The moment the syllables dropped, the remaining lightning dissipated into nothingness. Peter stepped out from the residual static entirely unscathed, without a single scorch mark or singed fiber on his frame.
He looked at the utterly horrified Reed and let out a sudden, demonic grin.
In the next heartbeat, without a shred of warning, his arm violently elongated. With a kinetic velocity that vastly outstripped Reed's own physical reactions, it snaked through the air and tightly locked around Reed's torso!
"What?!" Facing this completely unprecedented development, Mr. Fantastic's super-genius brain instantly experienced a total cognitive system crash!
This guy... he actually replicated my exact cellular elasticity?!
Horrified to his very core, Reed instinctively attempted to utilize his supreme physical flexibility to slip out of Peter's tightening grasp.
But no matter how he twisted, warped, or stretched his molecular structure, Peter's constricting arm expanded and molded itself to match him, remaining sharper, longer, and more hyper-malleable—clinging to him like a localized shadow until it completely locked his entire body down, leaving him physically unable to even snap back to his default mass.
"Don't waste your energy," Peter's voice purred directly into his ear, rich with unadulterated mockery. "Your own capability is simply vastly superior when executed by my hands."
The sheer, boundless arrogance of the statement left Mr. Fantastic burning with deep frustration. But right now, the legendary leader of the Fantastic Four was entirely out of miracles.
"Now then, moving onto the next phase..." Peter looked down at the tightly bound Mr. Fantastic, a genuinely villainous smile spreading across his face. "Are you adequately prepared to test your limits against centrifugal force?"
Before Reed could process the words, Peter began to rapidly whip and retract his elongated arm in massive, circular arcs.
Driven by the violent kinetic momentum, Mr. Fantastic's hyper-extended mass was dragged along uncontrollably. His elongated torso and limbs spun through the air in a blur, resembling a massive strand of dough being violently twirled by a master noodle chef.
Reed felt as though he had been dumped directly into a high-powered industrial centrifuge, his body spinning at dizzying revolutions.
The crushing G-force and the kaleidoscopic blurring of the environment induced a wave of violent, paralyzing vertigo.
If he hadn't undergone rigorous, professional spatial endurance training during his tenure as an astronaut, he would have violently vomited on the spot.
While Reed was trapped in this state of absolute disorientation, he suddenly felt his wrists and ankles being tightly pinned by an iron grip.
He forced his eyes open with immense effort, looking down to discover that it was, indeed, this absolute menace of a Spider-Variant.
Peter was currently gripping Reed's elongated hands in one fist, while his other hand clamped around his ankles like a hydraulic vice.
"Are you ready? Next up is... cardio time!"
Under the combined, deeply sympathetic, and pitying gazes of both the Spider-Army and the neutralized members of the Avengers, Peter and Reed collaborated to perform a live-action, modern rendition of the classic masterpiece: Nika playing jump-rope with Kaido.
The poor, unfortunate Mr. Fantastic was physically, literally played like a fiddle in the palms of Peter's hands.
His hyper-elastic biology was completely reduced to a common jump-rope. Peter whipped Reed's body through the air, executing standard jumps, reverse jumps, and high-speed cross-overs.
If footage of this sequence ever managed to leak into the public domain, Mr. Fantastic's legendary, distinguished reputation across the scientific and superhero communities would commit absolute suicide on the spot.
Yet, Reed was entirely powerless to intervene. He couldn't even formulate a coherent cry for backup—the only remaining active combat assets on their side were Thor and the berserk Hulk!
Thor's divine lightning had already been proven entirely useless against Peter; calling him over would merely result in Reed sustaining more physical abuse.
As for the Hulk... relying on the Hulk to execute a delicate hostage rescue operation was about as tactically sound as immediately inputting a developer command to suicide and restart.
Realizing the absolute futility of the scenario, Mr. Fantastic's super-brain rapidly calculated the mathematically optimal resolution for their current predicament:
It was time... to completely surrender.
Judging from the historical treatment of Susan and the others, while this adversary possessed a profoundly malicious, toxic personality, he clearly harbored no genuine intent to execute them.
Under these precise parameters, unconditional capitulation was the most logical vector.
With that hyper-rational deduction finalized, Mr. Fantastic didn't hesitate for a single second, calling out through the rushing air:
"Hey! Buddy! I yield! I throw in the towel! Just put me down!"
The moment the words left his mouth, a booming, deeply dissatisfied snort echoed from the hovering Thor: "Reed! You possess no fortitude! How can an icon of Earth bend the knee and beg mercy from an adversary?!"
Reed cursed inwardly, You aren't the one currently being whipped through the atmosphere like a piece of athletic equipment, you blond oaf, of course you can stand there and talk big!
Aloud, he could only steel himself and call back: "Thor, I believe he truly harbors no apocalyptic intent.
If his objective was a genuine invasion of our universe, he could have ordered his legions to slaughter us outright, but he refrained! We... have likely fundamentally misunderstood his presence."
Well, look at you, kid!
Peter stopped his high-speed, show-stopping jump-rope routine in mild surprise. This guy is remarkably perceptive. Now that is how you widen your horizons!
With that appreciative thought, Peter smoothly loosened his grip, allowing Reed's body to snap back to its default human proportions.
"I always enjoy dealing with intelligent individuals," Peter smiled. "Since you are so intimately acquainted with the reality of the situation, offer a formal apology to me and my girlfriend, and we'll consider this matter concluded."
Reed: "..."
You literally just swung my spine through the air like a piece of gym plastic, and now you want me to apologize to you?
He was screaming internally, but the moment he lifted his gaze, he locked directly onto Peter's half-smiling, intensely freezing stare.
A violent shiver rippled through Reed's spine, and without a single shred of hesitation, he opened his mouth:
"To this version of Peter, and to the lady over there... I am deeply sorry. Please accept my formal apology for my and my family's reckless, presumptive actions."
"That's more like it." Peter nodded with satisfaction, dusting off his hands as he turned his gaze up toward the hovering God of Thunder.
"As for you... the one who claimed he possessed no fortitude. I certainly hope you can last a little longer in my hands than he did~"
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