Kim Possible and Spider-Man: The Spectacular Sitch

A Spectacular Fight is Possible

Me, thought Spider-Man. Only me?

"I must admit, Spider-Man," the green and purple madman confessed, "for anybody to see through my wonderful illusions, I would have put you first. But it seems the 'Spectacular Spider-Man' has his limits. And for a lack of a better word, I'm disappointed."

"A lack of words, you say. Great," the wall-crawler proclaimed. "So does this mean the whole talking in the third-person thing is over, cause it always distracted me from how ridiculous your costume is."

The low voice chuckled sinisterly. "You wish for me to burn my garments, so be it." A click and hissing sound started before the entirety of Mysterio's costume was engulfed in the flames of the firebird once more. Spider-Man watched in awe, but knew it was no more than a parlor trick.

"Nice try, Mysty," he called out, but then the terrifying bird threw its head down toward him. Its beak opened wide and flames started expelling from it, real flames.

"Oh boy," exclaimed Spider-Man and quickly ran from where he stood. The flames were too quick for him though, as they chased him like a hot wind. Just great, he thought, he added mini flame-throwers to his equipment. He only ever thought that if he was going to face a being with fire powers, it would have been Molten Man again. But even then, it would be from a guy that didn't understand his powers. Mysterio was someone that understood the technology he was using and what it was capable of. A much deadlier combination. Webs and agility alone would likely not get him out of this fight. Strategy and focus were now his best chance to flee, or better yet, disarm the flame thrower. He's still just a guy, he thought, hopefully.

The flames extinguished from the raptor's mouth, allowing Spider-Man an opportunity to stall it. He jumped high, firing a web directly at its head in the hopes that it would mark up Mysterio's bubble helmet through the firebird facade. Before it could reach it, the bird expelled fire again, and burned the web out of the air.

Okay, that didn't work, he thought. Looks like I'll have to distract him now before I make my move.

He fired a series of webs back at the creature, while he spun a fine line to allow him to swing. Swinging down toward the beast, he continued to fire upon it. The bird burned each shot out of the air, one by one, which was what Peter was hoping for. Lower and lower to the ground he came, where he saw a gap between it and the bird. He swung through the gap into the alley and hit the ground in his signature landing, facing the back side of the creature. But there was no back side of the creature. Only Mysterio hovering over the ground puppeteering the illusion with his body.

Peter quickly pulled out his camera and snapped a shot before Mysterio realized that his foe was behind him.

"Is that a camera?"

"It's over, Beck. I have the evidence and after finding your precious look-alike in prison, the police will know you're on the loose."

"It matters not" Mysterio growled, his fists slamming down in the air, puppetting the wings of the firebird behind him to flap furiously. Mysterio stared at his foe, while the magnificent bird hovered over his body, waiting to be told to attack. "I have nothing to lose here. The same could not be said for you."

A cracking sound mixed the rumble of thunder broke into the air. From above the firebird, a large cloud of charcoal flooded over the already gloomy overcast of the night sky. Faint streaks of green are mixed in with the clouds, providing the only source of light as the cloud overtakes the light of the surrounding windows and streetlamps. The cloud shrouded the ground, acting like a blanket of fog, bringing an odor that Peter is not fond of. It almost feels unnatural, very manufactured. What's worse, is that the cloud has now boxed him in, only allowing Peter to see ten feet in front of him in any direction. The hissing sounds from before are back, faint in ear compared to overwhelming silence that terrifies what he will fend off next. He feels disoriented, trapped, and helpless in his thoughts. In his frantic state, he has now forgotten which way was which.