The Spectacular Spider-Men: The Great Web

PROLOGUE: The Molten Man?

THIRD-PERSON POV:

The sterile silence of Oscorp's after-hours laboratory was broken only by the hum of machinery and the occasional clinking of glassware. Mark Raxton moved stealthily through the dimly lit corridors, his pulse racing with anticipation and greed. Tonight was the night he would finally take control of his destiny, free from the clutches of madmen like Spencer Smythe.

Mark had been placed under Spencer's wing, continuing the twisted legacy of his son Alistair. The elder Smythe was a relic from another era, obsessed with perfecting the spider-slayers that had been decimated by the spider-men months ago. Raxton had grown weary of the relentless focus on vengeance. He saw an opportunity in the liquid metal alloy they were developing—a substance so powerful it could change the course of technology and warfare. Mark didn't want to be a pawn in Spencer's vendetta; he wanted to be the king.

The plan was simple. Slip into the lab after everyone had left, take the alloy, and disappear. He had already lined up buyers willing to pay a fortune for a material with such unprecedented properties. It was his ticket to freedom and untold wealth.

Raxton reached the lab where the alloy was stored. The room was bathed in a cold blue light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He carefully entered the access code, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. The alloy was there, housed in a reinforced glass container. Mark couldn't help but smile. Finally, it was within his grasp.

As he stepped forward, a figure emerged from the shadows. "What are you doing here, Raxton?" Spencer Smythe's voice was cold and authoritative.

Mark froze, his heart pounding in his chest. "Mr. Smythe, I... I was just checking on the alloy. Making sure everything is secure."

Spencer's eyes narrowed. "At this hour? Don't lie to me, Raxton. What are you really doing here?"

Mark's mind raced, scrambling for a plausible excuse. "Look, Mr. Smythe, we've been working on this alloy for months. We both know it's revolutionary. But you're wasting it on those damn spider-slayers. We could be using it for so much more."

Spencer's expression softened slightly, his curiosity piqued. "I agree the alloy has potential, but it's not ready. It needs more testing. We can't just—"

Mark cut him off, frustration boiling over. "You're too cautious, Mr. Smythe! We have the chance to change the world, and you're holding us back. This alloy could make us rich beyond our wildest dreams, but only if we take the leap."

Spencer shook his head. "This isn't about money, Raxton. It's about responsibility. We need to be sure it's safe."

Mark's patience snapped. "I'm done waiting, Spencer." He lunged forward, shoving Spencer aside and grabbing the container. The glass felt cool and heavy in his hands, a stark contrast to the heat of his anger.

"Raxton, no!" Spencer reached out to stop him, but Mark was already moving toward the exit.

In the struggle, the container slipped from Mark's grasp. Time seemed to slow as the glass shattered on the floor, and the viscous, glowing liquid metal splashed onto Mark. He screamed as the alloy engulfed him, searing his flesh and fusing with his body. The pain was beyond anything he had ever imagined, a fiery agony that consumed him entirely.

Spencer watched in horror as Mark's body twisted and contorted, the alloy melding with his skin. Within moments, the transformation was complete. Where Mark Raxton had stood, there was now a towering figure of molten metal, radiating heat and energy. The man's features were barely recognizable, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light.

Mark's mind was a whirlwind of pain and rage. He could feel the power surging through him, the raw strength of the alloy coursing in his veins. He looked down at his hands, now claws of liquid metal, and clenched them into fists. The world seemed different, sharper and more vivid.