A New Spider on the Block (Spiderman ps4 x X-men x Champions x Male Reader)

More Web Warriors?

The sensation was dizzying. The very fabric of the universe seemed to twist and turn, and I felt my stomach lurch as if I were caught in a relentless, cosmic whirlwind. "I think I'm going to be sick," I muttered, my voice edged with the nausea that roiled within.

From a different angle, amidst the spiraling chaos, Pete 2.0 gracefully descended with an acrobatic twist. He glanced over with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, it's kind of like a roller coaster once you get used to it."

I grunted in frustration. "I couldn't care less about what it feels like, I just want—" Before I could finish, a force propelled us outwards, and suddenly we were soaring over the familiar skyline of Manhattan, the wind whipping past us.

Desperation clawed at me, and I watched as Pete 2.0, thinking on his feet, tried to web-swing. But instead of the familiar, thick strand, a mere dribble squirted out, and the look of shock in his mechanical lenses mirrored my own.

"Of all the times to run dry!" he shouted, panic evident.

"I got this," I assured, attempting to unleash my web. To my dismay, nothing came out. "You have got to be fucking kidding me! I despise these things!" My voice was a mixture of rage and dread as we plummeted toward the ground.

"I should've packed extra cartridges in a more accessible pocket!" Pete 2.0 lamented, his voice strained.

Just as the ground loomed ominously close, a lifeline—literally—latched onto our backs. The sudden jerk halted our rapid descent, a momentary reprieve.

"I'm alive!" The relief in my voice was palpable as I spread my arms wide in triumph. But my celebration was short-lived. The line supporting us snapped, sending me crashing down, my face meeting the hard asphalt.

The pain was sharp and immediate. "Who the fuck did that?" I snapped, my voice nasal as I cradled my throbbing nose.

From a short distance away, I heard Pete 2.0's voice, weak and a bit muffled, "Ow." He lay sprawled, his once graceful form now splayed out awkwardly on the ground. The gritty roughness of the alley's bricks pressed against our backs as we slowly clambered to our feet. My senses slowly realigning, I took in the familiar surroundings of trash cans, stray cats, and the distant hum of the city. "At least this looks like my home." Pete says.

I cast a sidelong glance at me, my mechanical lenses narrowing briefly. "I'm definitely not home," I retorted, letting my irritation shine through.

"We'll navigate this," Pete said, sounding uncharacteristically serious. "First things first, though. If the Goblin's here, we need to find him. Shouldn't be hard. This is my turf, after all." With newfound determination, he led the way out of the alley, emerging into the bustling heart of Midtown.

But our focus was soon arrested by a blaring, unmistakable voice. "And yet we're praising these so-called heroes?!" The words felt familiar, yet there was an odd cadence to them.

Pete smirked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words. "I never thought I'd be pleased to hear that voice again. But something's... off."

I followed his gaze to the gigantic digital billboard. There, in all her ranting glory, was J. Jonah Jameson. Or rather, a female version of him, her visage flashing with the same passionate indignation as her male counterpart. It was an uncanny, and frankly unsettling, sight.

"That's not right, is it?" I whispered, looking to Pete for some kind of confirmation. Before he could answer, another voice cut through the air.

"Hey! What do you two think you're doing?"

Pete, ever the articulate one, began, "What am I—"

His words were abruptly halted as a sudden tug pulled us backward. A web? Again? My patience fraying, I braced for another uncomfortable landing. The asphalt greeted me, and I had barely recovered when a lithe figure gracefully somersaulted over us, landing with an athlete's poise. It was a Spider-Woman, clad in the classic blue and red attire.