Spider-Man: At breaking point

Chapter Twelve: Into the Web

Peter's fingers moved in a blur, crafting, molding, welding. He had spent the last 48 hours buried in his workshop, not stopping for sleep, food, or even to bandage the wounds that still throbbed beneath his hastily wrapped arms. This time, he couldn't afford to fail. The Reaper was unlike any enemy he had faced—a mastermind who played on Peter's weaknesses and emotions, pushing him to the brink of destruction. But Peter was done playing his game.

The new suit was a work of art—a sleek, armored blend of cutting-edge technology and his signature design. Its dark tones gave it a predatory edge, with enhancements to his web-shooters, extra protection along his limbs, and reinforced gauntlets that could handle the kind of punishment he had taken before. He even installed an upgraded mask with advanced HUD features to track multiple enemies at once.

Peter slid into the suit, feeling its weight settle around him like a second skin. His old suit was in tatters—like him, broken, but ready to be reborn. He couldn't help but take a deep breath as the new suit activated, its systems humming to life.

This time, he would be ready.

Osborn Tower stood tall, its shadow casting a long, ominous stretch over the streets below. Peter's webs flung him toward its peak, his mind sharp, focused. The Reaper had left another taunting message, this time leading him straight to the tower.

As Peter landed atop the rooftop, his senses tingled with anticipation. The wind howled around him, but something felt off. The rooftop was deserted—or so it seemed. His mask's HUD scanned the area, picking up faint heat signatures nearby.

And then, out of the shadows, they appeared.

The Sinister Seven.

Dr. Octopus. The Vulture. Mysterio. Sandman. Kraven the Hunter. Electro. And, leading them, the Reaper.

"Welcome, Spider-Man," the Reaper's voice echoed, smooth and menacing. He stepped forward, the skull mask glinting in the moonlight, his cloak billowing behind him. "I hope you enjoyed your little vacation. But it's time we finish this."

Peter's heart pounded, his fists clenching. "I'm not playing your games anymore, Reaper."

"Oh, but you've been playing all along, Spider-Man," the Reaper chuckled, raising his hand. "And now, it's time to lose."

Before Peter could react, Electro blasted him with a surge of electricity, sending him crashing to the ground. His new suit absorbed some of the shock, but it wasn't enough to stop the pain from coursing through his body.

"Take him!" the Reaper ordered, and the Sinister Seven descended upon him like vultures.

Peter fought back with everything he had—his new suit giving him the strength and agility to hold his own, at first. His fists connected with Kraven's jaw, his webs tangling up the Vulture's wings, but the sheer numbers overwhelmed him. Octopus's mechanical arms slammed him into the concrete, pinning him down as Sandman's fists pummeled him from every direction.

"Is this all you've got, Spider-Man?" The Reaper's voice cut through the chaos as Peter struggled to breathe, his ribs cracking under the pressure of the assault. "Where's that fire I saw before? The anger?"

Peter's vision blurred, his head spinning from the relentless blows. His new suit, though powerful, couldn't hold up against the combined force of the Sinister Seven. And with every punch, every shock, every hit, Peter could feel himself slipping—closer and closer to the edge.

The Reaper stood over him now, watching, waiting. "You're weak. Pathetic. And you'll never save them. Not MJ. Not anyone."

Peter's anger flared, but his body refused to move. He was broken, beaten. He felt the cold hands of defeat closing in.

Then, suddenly, a sharp cry split the air, followed by the sound of a metallic clang. One of Octopus's arms was flung off its course as a red figure shot through the air, knocking Mysterio off balance. Peter's blurred vision caught the familiar silhouette.

Daredevil.

With swift, brutal precision, Daredevil took down the Vulture and Electro, using his batons and acrobatic prowess to fend off the rest of the attackers. For a brief moment, the onslaught halted.

But the Reaper wasn't done. "Get him!" he growled to the remaining members.

Daredevil quickly darted toward Peter, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, Spider-Man. We need to get out of here, now!"

Peter barely registered Daredevil's words, his body barely holding together as they fled from the roof, webs swinging into the night. Behind them, the Reaper watched in silent fury, the sound of Spider-Man's weakened breath echoing in his ears.

As they swung through the city, Peter's vision started to fade, his body giving in to the damage. He barely made out Daredevil's voice, calm and resolute.

"I told you... you need to rethink your approach, Peter."

And then, everything went black.