Spider-Man : BloodWrath

ARC 5 Teaser

The dimly lit underground base filled with hushed murmurs and the faint clinking of tools instantly erupts into chaos. Peter Parker stands amidst the Avengers, glaring with a fierce intensity at Carol Danvers, eyes blazing with both fury and betrayal. Carol's expression flickers between shock and anger before she fires up, a golden aura igniting around her fists. With a shout, she lunges forward, tackling Peter with all the force of a missile.

From the corner, Stark, his face a mix of alarm and urgency, shouts, "Contain him! Now!" His suit pieces click into place as he suits up at lightning speed, the repulsors humming to life. Other heroes dart from their stations, weapons raised and powers at the ready. Daredevil, Iron Fist, Mockingbird, Hawkeye, and Jessica Drew close in, a wall of defenders converging.

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Peter's reaction is unyielding, swift, and precise. As Iron Fist charges, Peter sidesteps with inhuman speed, gripping his opponent's outstretched arm and slamming him hard onto the ground. An arrow hurtles toward him, loosed from Hawkeye's bow. Peter catches it mid-air, his movements like liquid, and in one brutal motion, he drives the arrow into Daredevil's thigh as the hero attempts to strike.

"Stop him!" Stark bellows, his suit locking around him in time to raise his arm and aim a repulsor blast. Yet, Peter moves before any of them can find footing.

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Jessica Drew's bioelectric strike lashes toward him, but Peter dodges and counters in a blur of motion, his own fists charged with a crimson glow. His fist lands, sending a surge of his own venomous electricity into her, and she falls back, stunned. He grits his teeth, each strike more forceful than the last, his frustration mounting with each face that once held trust.

But then a sharp, unmistakable thwip.

A thin line of webbing shoots from behind, latching onto his back. Before he can react, he's yanked backward, stumbling as an unfamiliar voice rings out, laced with both fear and defiance.

"Don't you dare touch my mother!"

Peter stumbles, turning, his face contorting as he takes in the young figure before him, the shock settling in with a strange, unknown familiarity.

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Peter leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of Maria as she sat on the edge of the sink in the dimly lit bathroom. The gentle hum of the fluorescent light softened their surroundings, leaving them in a world of their own. Maria held a pair of scissors, having just trimmed his beard with careful precision, but now her hands rested gently on his shoulders. They lingered close, breathing in the quiet together.

"Not bad, Parker," she murmured with a small smile, her voice a soft whisper in the closeness of the room. "But I think I missed a spot right...here," she teased, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.

He chuckled, his gaze settling warmly on hers, fingers grazing over the edge of the sink behind her. "Guess I'll have to come back for another session, then," he replied, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their laughter faded, replaced by a silence thick with unspoken things. Peter's hand moved to the curve of her hip, a silent, tentative question. She responded by tracing a gentle line along his jaw, fingertips soft and lingering as she looked at him, her gaze tender and open.

"You don't always have to carry this weight alone, you know," Maria whispered, her thumb grazing his cheek.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly at her words, a small acknowledgment that her understanding went deeper than most. Just as he leaned forward, their moment was broken by the faint creak of the bathroom door.

Carol stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of curiosity and something sharper. Her presence was unmistakable, and in that instant, the warm connection between Peter and Maria shifted, though Peter's hand stayed gently at her side.

"Sorry," Carol said, her voice edged with an attempt at nonchalance, though her eyes betrayed a hint of jealousy. "Just came to use the washroom. I didn't mean to...interrupt."

Maria gave a small nod, her hand slipping from Peter's cheek, though her expression held firm. Peter, sensing the shift, took a slow step back, a reluctant smile still lingering on his face.

"It's all good, Carol," she said, giving a brief nod, though there was something unspoken in the air between them all.

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In the cover of night, Peter races through the shadows of New York's backstreets, the cityscape unfolding beneath him in a pattern of concrete, glass, and flashing lights. He pauses, glancing down over the rooftops where the streets below are lined with heavy checkpoints, soldiers blocking pathways at every major intersection. He darts back, pressing himself into the shadows just as a drone hums overhead, its searchlight sweeping dangerously close.

Then, without warning, the dark silence is shattered as a massive screen on the side of a skyscraper flickers to life. The sharp, ruthless face of Wilson Fisk, the new mayor of New York, fills the screen. Peter turns to face it, his fists clenching involuntarily.

"People of New York," Fisk's voice booms across the city, thick with calculated malice, "there is a dangerous threat among us. Bloodwrath, the terrorist, is somewhere in our streets. I assure you, this menace will be found. Any citizen found assisting Bloodwrath or the fugitive Avengers will face full prosecution under Empire law."

Peter's eyes narrow as he listens, taking in the ominous words. He feels the weight of the city itself closing in on him, every street and rooftop now a potential trap. Above, more drones whir and fan out over the sky, their lights like glowing eyes sweeping through the darkness, searching.

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Peter sat slouched on the worn-out sofa, surrounded by a scatter of empty bottles that gleamed faintly in the dim safe house light. His head rested in his hands, fingers pressing against his temples as he tried to shake off the haze that had settled over him. The staleness of the room's silence was abruptly broken by the loud creak of the front door being shoved open, followed by the unmistakable, swift footsteps of someone approaching.

He looked up, vision swimming slightly, and managed a slow, lazy grin when he saw who it was. "Hey, Maria," he slurred, lifting a bottle in mock salute. "What's the rush?"

Maria's face was stormy, her eyes blazing as she closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, she swung her hand sharply across his cheek, the slap echoing through the room and snapping his head to the side. He blinked, the stinging clarity cutting through the fog of alcohol. For a long second, the room held a heavy silence.

Maria's hand trembled slightly as she pointed a finger at him, her fury barely contained. "He needed you, Peter," she seethed, voice quaking with anger and something deeper, something close to heartbreak.

Peter clenched his jaw, his hand going up reflexively to touch his cheek where her slap still burned. He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't bring himself to face the hurt and disappointment reflected there. Instead, he stared at the empty bottles scattered around him, as if they held the answers he sought in his own broken reflection.

"Maria..." he began, voice hoarse, barely more than a murmur. But she cut him off, not willing to let him slip past her accusations with apologies.

"Don't," she snapped, taking a step closer, her finger still leveled at him accusingly. "You think drowning yourself in this..." she gestured angrily to the bottles around him..."is going to make you forget? You think you get to escape from everything? He looked up to you, Peter. And you weren't there."

The words landed on him like blows, each one digging deeper, her voice filled with raw pain.

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Hey guys I hope you all liked the teaser for the next arc...