"Today truly is my lucky day!"
Maxwell Dillon thought silently to himself. Despite his mother—who was bedridden and spent over 80% of his salary on medical bills—constantly calling him a useless failure, and despite being invisible and bullied at Oscorp, Max couldn't help but hum a tune. His idol, Ghost-Spider, had encouraged him personally.
And then... due to forced overtime and the negligence of his colleagues, he was struck by a massive electrical surge, plummeting into a vat of genetically modified electric eels.
As they swarmed him, discharging millions of volts into his body, Max's final conscious thought was:
Os-cor-p... wha-t... you... owe... me... how... will... you... pay... it... back? (Distorted Electric Voice)
On the other side of the world, "Sandman" William Baker dissolved into a stream of fine sand, quietly drifting to the bedside of his daughter, who suffered from congenital heart disease.
Even though he stubbornly maintained his human appearance so she would recognize him, he didn't dare wake her.
He was terrified that his presence as a fugitive would jeopardize the charitable funding keeping her alive.
Her heart condition was a bottomless pit of debt.
Seeing her brow furrowed even in sleep, William steeled his resolve. His wife and daughter were his everything. To save her, he would give anything... including his soul. He quietly left the trailer and headed toward a nearby jewelry store.
Unfortunately, just as he transformed his sand-arm into a spiked mace to shatter the bulletproof glass, a black-and-white silhouette swung down from the sky alongside the NYPD.
"Pal, I don't think this is a good idea," Ghost-Spider quipped. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life in Ryker's, do you?"
Five days later, Dubai, Burj Al Arab.
Watching the surveillance feed, Peter saw a panting, scrawny Dr. Yinsen struggling to weld the final steel plates onto Tony.
He knew it was time for his heroic entrance. He hopped onto his Glider and streaked toward the Ten Rings' stronghold.
At the same time, the terrorists discovered the escape attempt. A swarm of armed goons rushed toward the lab. To buy Tony enough time for the software to boot, Yinsen grabbed a submachine gun and charged out, sacrificing himself.
The Mark I was a success! It was bulky and ugly, but it was sturdy enough to shrug off small arms fire. Tony began a rampage through the narrow tunnels until... a figure in a black-and-red suit appeared before him.
Blurred by rage and grief over Yinsen, Tony didn't care who this newcomer was. He piloted the clunky mech toward Peter and swung a massive metal fist at his chest.
He expected Peter to go flying like the others, but reality took a sharp turn.
A hand.
A hand with well-proportioned, slender fingers—the hand of someone who clearly hadn't done a day of manual labor in his life—caught the "Steel Fist" effortlessly.
Even with the suit at maximum output, the force vanished the moment it touched Peter's palm, like a mud cow entering the sea.
No, it didn't vanish! Seeing the visible finger indentations crushed into the armored knuckles, a terrifying thought struck Tony: My suit isn't malfunctioning... this freak actually caught my punch with his bare hand!
Rat-tat-tat!
As they entered a stalemate, the bald leader of the local Ten Rings cell saw a golden opportunity. He ordered his men to open fire indiscriminately, then hoisted an RPG onto his shoulder, screaming: "Both you monsters can go to hell!"
Whoosh—!
The rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward them, trailing fire.
"Fuck!" Tony froze. He couldn't understand how things had escalated so quickly. In the split second remaining, he could only maneuver his armored body in front of the dying Yinsen.
He knew the steel wouldn't absorb the full blast and that Yinsen would likely die anyway, but he moved on instinct.
I swear on the Stark name, if Yinsen lives, I'll do anything!
As Tony "prayed," a miracle occurred. The freak standing in front of him wasn't shredded by the rain of bullets. Instead, he performed a feat that nearly made Tony's eyes pop out of their sockets.
The guy... at the exact moment the RPG arrived, reached out with lightning speed.
And then, he actually intercepted the rocket!
Worse, he casually flicked his wrist and threw it back. Back, back, back...
BOOM!
The grenade exploded in the middle of the stunned terrorists. They died without ever believing what they had just seen was real.
Finally, Peter spoke: "Still want to test your armor's performance, Mr. Tony Stark?"
Hearing English, Tony blinked. "Are you with the military?"
"No, I don't belong to any organization," Peter replied coolly. "I'm just an anti-hero passing through." He glanced at the gasping Yinsen.
"By the way, do you need me to save the bald guy over there? My rates are cheap—I'll take that suit you're wearing as payment."
Bald guy? Tony froze for a second before snapping back to reality. Shit, Yinsen is still on the ground!
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