Cloning Laboratory

In New York, Queens, on an empty street.

Peter's eyes widened as a massive black fist churned the air, hurtling towards his nose. A burning sting shot up his neck and into his brain, his spider-sense buzzing non-stop.

He performed two consecutive backflips, dodging the powerful punches of the hulking figure in the tattered cape. With every step he retreated, the other man pressed forward, roaring incoherently as he continued to throw punches.

"Wow, honestly, your outfit is seriously ugly," Peter ducked a punch, then bent his knees and sprang upwards. "Who made that garbage cape for you? Take it from me, your tailor should be fired. His skills and taste are both massively problematic."

The man in black let out a yell, his fingers splayed as he sharply counter-attacked. Peter shrugged his shoulders, narrowly dodging the blow, and retaliated with a kick, but it was blocked by the other man's sturdy, muscular arm.

"And what's with the mask? You look like you forgot to leave eyeholes. I honestly can't imagine how you see anything wearing that thing. Let me guess, you got bitten by a bat and suddenly didn't need eyesight?"

Peter kept his mouth running, but his feet were just as busy. This guy in black didn't seem much slower than him, and his strength even seemed to hold a slight advantage. Two figures tangled and weaved through the streets of Queens, a blur of motion that was dizzying to watch.

Peter's constant chatter was actually a way to mask his own nervousness and anxiety. When he got stressed, he tended to ramble, as it helped him to distract himself and relax his tense nerves.

But how could he not be nervous? This superpowered individual in a ridiculous blue and black bodysuit—whoever he was—was here for Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. This meant the other person knew Peter Parker's secret identity as Spider-Man, and it also meant that even if he had decided to stop being Spider-Man, his loved ones might be in danger.

Calm down, Parker. He told himself. First, you need to deal with this big idiot. He doesn't look that tough, right? You've handled so many difficult supervillains, you can definitely take down a muscle-bound moron in a ragged cape who doesn't even have eyes.

He leaped onto the giant man's head, pressing his palms against the thick back for leverage, and propelled himself upwards. With an elegantly perfect arc, he flipped and landed behind the other man.

But to his surprise, the man in black spun around abruptly, raising his hands. Two thin streams of white webbing shot out from his palms! The webs unexpectedly stuck to Peter's back while he was in mid-air, and a powerful force yanked him back. The man in black's right foot shot up, kicking him in mid-air. Peter grunted, flying backward, crashing through a fence, and landing in someone's backyard.

Peter staggered to his feet from among the overturned flower pots, shaking his head. "I really hope the homeowner isn't home."

His spider-sense flared up again as the dark silhouette leaped over the yard fence. Two streams of webbing shot from the other man's hands, spinning and opening into two white nets that lunged at Peter.

Peter dodged to the side, grabbing the two webs with his backhand. "Hey! That's my patent! I'm going to sue you for stealing my intellectual property!"

As he said this, his worry only deepened, and more questions flooded his mind. Like, who was this guy? Why could he also shoot webs? Who sent him? How did they know who Spider-Man was?

But these questions could only be answered after the other guy was beaten down.

Peter yanked on the two webs, forcefully pulling the man in black towards him. He accurately kicked the other man in the face, sending him tumbling several somersaults and crashing through a clothesline in the yard, scattering dried laundry everywhere.

"When the homeowner gets back, I'll tell them it was all you!"

Peter followed up with two quick leaps. The man in black got up and threw a punch, but Peter dodged it and countered with a right hook to the other man's face. The guy's skin was astonishingly tough; Peter felt like his fist had hit a hard brick.

"ROAR!"

The monstrous man in black roared furiously and unexpectedly pressed his palm against Peter's face. He grabbed Peter's head, lifted him overhead, and slammed him back onto the ground. A powerful shockwave spread through Peter's spine, making his head spin and his vision blur, throwing off his balance.

He saw the monstrous man wildly raise his fists, seemingly about to smash down on him, but the dizziness made him unable to dodge.

Great, this is definitely going to hurt like hell.

But the expected impact never came. He saw the monstrous man's fists freeze in mid-air. Half a second later, he suddenly let out an even more piercing shriek. Clutching his head, he staggered backward as if someone had turned a blender inside his skull.

The monster retreated to the yard fence, shaking his head violently, as if he had suddenly lost interest in Peter. He turned, leaped over the yard fence, and disappeared down the long road outside in moments.

Peter got to his feet, dragging his aching arm. "Okay, what was that all about?"

***

In a remote location, within a top-secret CIA Technology Division bio-laboratory.

Staff, fully encased in white protective suits, moved back and forth within the experimental pods. Cylindrical culture vessels filled with sea-blue liquid stood in the center of the room. Countless precise instruments and equipment were connected to these vessels, feeding complex data into the computers in the control room outside the pods every moment.

Unlike the cloning laboratory on the other side, this laboratory had only a single experimental subject, because this subject was the most unique.

A man in a well-tailored suit with a middle part stood in the control room. His attire and demeanor suggested he was the person in charge. A young assistant in a white lab coat approached him, flipping through a document containing relevant data.

"You want to perform memory manipulation on the test subject now?" the assistant asked.

The man in the suit glanced at him. "It's the Master Controller's order. This is his most cherished and proudest creation, and he wants the test subject to be ready for deployment immediately."

"But according to the monitoring data, the test subject's various vital signs are still unstable," the assistant said. "Especially regarding memory. The target's memories are already chaotic, fragmented, and unsystematic. If we rashly perform modification operations, or even implant a completely new set of memories, it could cause damage to the target's brain function. The worst-case scenario might be an accident like the one that occurred last night in another laboratory."

The man in the suit raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying the test subject might go berserk and break out of here?"

"We should consider that possibility, sir."

"Then fix it for me, quickly!" the man in the suit raised his voice. "I believe I don't need to remind you how dangerous the Master Controller is. If you have to bother him personally to adjust this minor issue again, you won't want to know the consequences."

"Alright," the assistant closed the folder. "I'll inform the team and see what we can do."

The assistant quickly left, carrying the files. The man in the suit crossed his arms and stood there for a while until a red warning light suddenly covered the entire room, and an alarm blared through every corridor of the base.

"Sir! The laboratory is under intrusion!"

The man in the suit snorted. "Intruding into CIA facilities? Who's tired of living? Tell all agents within the facility—whoever dares to break in, shoot first and ask questions later!"

BOOM!

With a roar that seemed to shake the heavens and earth, the super-heavy alloy door at the facility entrance crashed down under a powerful external force, kicking up thick dust. Agents guarding the entrance corridor aimed their rifles at the entrance, holding their breath and remaining motionless.

A faint hum of mechanical operation sounded, and black armor broke through the smoke outside the door. The V-shaped visor projected a chilling gaze, and a faint, eerie blue fluorescence emanated from it.

The moment he stepped out of the smoke, everyone's breath hitched.

It felt like a cold hand was choking their throats.