On the littered alley ground, the red-necked man named Maxwell Markham was bound tightly by robot restraints, writhing helplessly like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
The defense robot's mechanical voice echoed between the brick walls again: "Civilian, remove your facial covering immediately. This is your final warning."
Peter found himself caught in an impossible situation. On one hand, he needed to defend himself against the increasingly hostile robots. On the other, revealing his identity would destroy any chance of a normal life—putting Aunt May and everyone he cared about at risk.
Markham, despite being restrained, began laughing maniacally from his position on the ground. "He's an unregistered superhero! A criminal! Arrest him!"
The man's bloodied face twisted into a sadistic grin. "You didn't expect we'd be cellmates, did you? How poetic! Once we're locked up together, you'll discover exactly what kind of special treatment pretty boys like you get behind bars! Hahaha!"
Peter's heart hammered against his ribcage. His mind raced frantically for solutions. He was just a teenage high school student who'd never dealt with anything more serious than late homework and missed buses. Nothing in his sixteen years of life had prepared him for this nightmare scenario.
Suddenly, an electric tingle shot up his spine—a warning sensation he'd come to recognize over the past few days. Without conscious thought, his body twisted sideways as a crackling bolt of electricity struck the wall exactly where he'd been standing a split-second earlier.
The robot had fired without warning!
"That's a direct attack!" Peter shouted, dodging another blast. "You're supposed to be law enforcement! You can't just shoot civilians without any warning! This is insane!"
He scrambled toward the alley entrance, desperate to escape into the open street where witnesses might deter further violence. As he reached the mouth of the alley, that strange buzzing sensation exploded through his nervous system again. His muscles responded automatically, launching him upward in a tremendous leap.
Executing a perfect backflip in mid-air, Peter watched in horror as two additional robot officers appeared at the alley exit. Multiple electric bolts sizzled through the exact spot where he'd been standing, leaving smoking black scorch marks on the concrete.
A gasp escaped his lips as he landed in a crouched position.
Three robots now surrounded him in a triangular formation. Their synchronized mechanical voices created an eerie chorus: "Superhuman identity confirmed. Target classified as high-threat. Surrender immediately or we will switch to lethal force protocols."
"What?!" Peter exclaimed, genuine shock coloring his voice. "I'm just a regular high school kid who accidentally gained some abilities! That doesn't make me a criminal! I'm one of the good guys—I just saved that boy from being assaulted! You can't do this to me... I'm not a threat to anyone!"
None of the robots acknowledged his protests. Instead, they simultaneously shifted into combat mode. The electric arcs dancing across their right arms intensified dramatically, crackling with deadly voltage. Razor-sharp blades extended from their left forearms with a menacing metallic snick.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed Markham had somehow managed to slice through his restraints and was now slinking toward freedom. The criminal was about to escape while Peter faced execution.
"Hey! The actual criminal is escaping!" Peter shouted desperately. "Stop him! He's getting away!"
The robots remained fixated on Peter, completely ignoring his warning.
Markham turned back with a taunting laugh. "Stupid kid! Don't you get it yet? You freaks with powers are their primary targets! The president and Stark made that crystal clear!"
With those parting words, he darted away, disappearing around the corner.
Watching the legitimate criminal escape while he—the rescuer—faced imminent execution, Peter felt something fundamentally shift inside him. Where was the law? Where was justice? The system wasn't just flawed; it was completely inverted.
White-hot anger surged through his veins. Without thinking, he launched himself at the nearest robot, his foot connecting with enough force to send the machine flying backward into a brick wall.
"If you won't stop him, then I will!" Peter shouted, racing after Markham.
What followed was perhaps the strangest chase scene New York had witnessed in recent memory.
A bloodied man with torn clothes sprinted down the sidewalk, occasionally glancing back in terror. Twenty feet behind him bounded a teenager wearing nothing more distinctive than a hastily-made paper mask and an ordinary backpack, leaping impossible distances with each stride. And behind them, three relentless security robots pursued in perfect formation, occasionally firing electric bolts that narrowly missed their primary target.
Pedestrians stopped in their tracks, some pulling out phones to record while others called out various reactions.
"What's happening? Are the Avengers back in town?" one woman shouted excitedly.
"Run, kid! Those robots will surround you any second!" warned an elderly man who'd clearly seen similar scenarios before.
A business-suited woman with a Stark Industries badge scoffed loudly. "Good riddance. New York doesn't need those disaster-bringing vigilantes. The security robots are far superior—they don't play favorites or make emotional decisions!"
The urban landscape blurred past as Peter gained on Markham. With his enhanced speed, catching up should have been trivial, but the constant harassment from the pursuing robots forced him to split his attention between pursuit and survival.
Making matters worse, the robots had apparently called for reinforcements.
Peter watched in dismay as new machine shapes appeared on the horizon. Some were standard ground patrol units rolling on advanced all-terrain wheels. Others were aerial support models, hovering on propulsion jets. The most concerning were the massive enforcers, hulking metal frames bristling with military-grade weaponry.
The first reinforcements to arrive were predictably the airborne units, a squadron of six rapidly approaching from the west.
What infuriated Peter most was that not a single one of these robots showed even passing interest in Markham. Every single mechanical eye and weapon system remained locked on Peter as if he were the most dangerous criminal in New York history.
Something is fundamentally wrong with these robots! The realization hit Peter with absolute clarity. There was something seriously corrupt about Stark Industries, about this city, about the entire system. Before his transformation, he'd been just another ordinary student. Concepts like crime, policing, justice, and order had been abstract ideas that rarely touched his daily life.
But now, with startling clarity, he understood—this city was deeply, systematically sick. A disease was spreading throughout its infrastructure, infecting every aspect of life in ways most citizens didn't recognize or understand.
While continuing his desperate pursuit, Peter slipped the backpack from his shoulders. With a powerful leap that carried him twenty feet into the air, he hurled it with all his strength.
"THUNK!"
The backpack struck Markham perfectly at the base of his skull. The impact immediately sent the stolen motorcycle careening out of control.
"SCREEEEECH—"
Markham tumbled from the seat, rolling violently across the asphalt as the riderless motorcycle continued forward.
"BOOM!"
The abandoned vehicle crashed into a roadside guardrail and exploded into a fireball of twisted metal and burning fuel.
Markham, who had fallen dangerously close to the explosion, was instantly engulfed in flames. He leapt to his feet, screaming in primal terror as fire consumed his clothing.
"NO! SOMEONE HELP ME! AAAGHH!"
Peter's vision tunneled in horror. He had never intended this outcome! His enhanced strength had turned what should have been a disabling blow into something potentially lethal.
Frantically scanning his surroundings, his eyes locked on a seafood restaurant with an enormous display aquarium near its entrance. Without hesitation, he sprinted over and hoisted the massive tank—weighing several hundred pounds—as if it were nothing more than a bucket of water.
He turned to douse the burning man, but found his path suddenly blocked by a wall of security robots.
"Sir, place the weapon down immediately and surrender!"
"Sir, place the weapon down immediately and surrender!"
"Sir, place the weapon down immediately and surrender!"
The synchronized mechanical chorus surrounded him from all directions.
"Get out of my way!" Peter shouted desperately. "That man is burning alive! I need to help him!"
He attempted to step forward, but every robot simultaneously activated their weapon systems, electric arcs flaring to life with deadly intent.
In the street beyond the robot barrier, Markham's agonized screams were growing weaker.
Peter reluctantly stepped backward, still holding the massive tank. "Fine! You save him then! I surrender, okay? Just help him!"
"CRACK!"
A laser beam shot through the glass tank in Peter's hands. The aquarium shattered explosively, sending water, glass, and disoriented fish cascading across the sidewalk.
Peter stood frozen in shock, water dripping from his soaked clothes. He turned his head mechanically toward the robot that had fired.
"What... what did you just do?" he whispered.
"The weapon has been neutralized," the robot replied emotionlessly.
On the street, Markham had stopped rolling. His movements grew increasingly feeble before ceasing entirely.
All around Peter—on the ground and hovering in the air—security robots formed an impenetrable perimeter. Yet not a single one moved to assist the dying man just feet away.
Something snapped inside Peter Parker. His entire body began trembling, not from fear but from a rage so profound it seemed to radiate from his very core. His eyes burned with unshed tears behind his soggy paper mask.
"FUCK!" he screamed, a sound torn from deep within his chest. "FUCK YOU ALL! Tony Stark is a goddamn monster!"
For the first time since discovering his powers, Peter launched a deliberate, calculated attack.
Despite being surrounded by over a dozen mechanical officers, they proved woefully inadequate against his unleashed fury. His spider-sense—that mysterious warning system—allowed him to predict and evade every counterattack before it even began.
Each of his strikes, now delivered without reservation, carried devastating force. Every robot he connected with crumpled like aluminum foil beneath a sledgehammer. Metal chassis tore open, circuitry exploded, and mechanical limbs detached with each impact of his fists and feet.
In less than fifteen seconds, he had reduced nearly every ground unit to scattered debris. Only a few airborne robots managed to retreat to a safe altitude, hovering uncertainly as they observed the destruction of their counterparts.
Reality gradually filtered back through Peter's rage. Breathing heavily, he glanced up to see dozens more security robots approaching rapidly from all directions.
With sudden decision, he stomped forcefully on a nearby manhole cover. The heavy metal disc popped upward into his waiting hand. In one fluid motion, he leapt twenty feet straight up, slipped through the opening, and disappeared into the darkness of the sewer system below—leaving behind a scene of mechanical devastation and profound injustice.
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