The underdistrict of New York on Earth-731 was a neon-lit maze, its alleys choked with the stench of oil and desperation. It was 2030, and Peter Parker, now Mad Spider, moved like a phantom through the shadows, his blood-red costume a jagged beacon of defiance. Gwen Stacy clung to his side, her stolen tablet glowing faintly, her blonde hair tucked under a scavenged hood. The Blackweb Unit's drones had nearly cornered them in the fight pits, and the city's bounty screens now flashed their faces with a million-credit reward. Peter's spider-powers—strength, agility, regeneration—kept them alive, but the pain from Oscorp's electroshock torture burned relentlessly, a cruel pulse that drew manic laughter from his lips. "They're throwing a party for us, Gwenny," he quipped, his voice sharp with Joker-like madness. "Too bad we're crashing it."
Flashback: At 17, Peter lay in Oscorp's lab, his body wracked by shocks. A scientist's voice mocked him: "You're nothing but data." Gwen, a new technician, watched from a corner, her heart breaking as she memorized the lab's systems, vowing to free him. Her sacrifice—joining Oscorp to save him—had led them here.
Their plan was desperate: raid an Oscorp data vault in the underdistrict's old refinery, stealing intel to amplify the Neon Shadows' broadcast and expose Norman's superhuman army. Razor, the pit fighter who'd joined them, scouted ahead, his burned arm bandaged but his resolve firm. "This vault's a fortress," he warned, his voice low. "Blackweb's everywhere." Peter's grin was all teeth. "Good. I need a workout." Gwen's eyes flickered with worry, sensing the madness growing in him, but she nodded, her tech skills their key to the vault.
They approached the refinery, a hulking relic of steel and smoke. Peter's spider-senses buzzed, detecting drones hidden in the fog. "Showtime," he whispered, webbing Gwen to a high beam for safety. The raid began with precision—Peter swung in, webbing security cameras, while Gwen hacked the vault's outer locks from her perch. Razor planted EMPs, disabling turrets. But the vault's AI was smarter than expected, triggering a silent alarm. Drones swarmed, their lasers slicing through the dark. "Bad tech, worse timing!" Peter laughed, his Deadpool-like banter masking the pain flaring in his body. He webbed a drone, slamming it into a pipe, but more came, their numbers overwhelming.
Gwen's tablet sparked as she battled the AI, her fingers a blur. "I'm almost in!" she shouted, but a drone's laser grazed her arm, drawing blood. Peter's rage erupted, his movements a chaotic blur as he tore through drones, his regeneration healing cuts instantly. "Nobody touches her!" he roared, his voice edging into villainy. Razor fought beside him, but a drone pinned him, its shock-baton sparking. Peter's pain spiked, the baton's voltage a cruel echo of the lab. Flashback: At 18, Peter's screams filled the lab as shocks targeted his nerves, Norman watching with cold satisfaction. "Break him," he'd ordered. Now, Peter's laughter was a weapon, his webbing snapping the drone in half.
Gwen's hack succeeded, downloading fragments of Oscorp's plans—schematics for neural implants. But the AI locked her out, and Blackweb operatives stormed the vault. "We're blown!" Razor yelled, dragging Gwen from her perch. Peter swung in, webbing her to his side, but the operatives were relentless, their shock-batons forcing him to his knees. Gwen pulled an EMP from Razor's pack, her hands shaking. "Peter, now!" she shouted. The EMP detonated, frying the drones and stunning the operatives. Mad Spider grabbed Gwen and Razor, swinging through a shattered skylight into the night.
They landed in an alley, breathless, the downloaded data incomplete but damning. Gwen's arm bled, and Peter's pain surged, his laughter broken. She knelt beside him, their ritual beginning—her touch soothing the burning nerves, a quiet intimacy that steadied his madness. "You saved us," he murmured, his eyes raw. "Always do," she said, her voice soft but fierce. Razor watched, uneasy. "You're a liability, Spider," he said. Peter's grin returned, sharp. "Liability? I'm the main event."
But the city's screens flickered, a new Blackweb alert: Norman had unleashed a superhuman prototype, a hunter designed to kill Mad Spider. The stakes were rising, and their allies were dwindling.
Cliffhanger: Mad Spider, Gwen, and Razor huddle in the alley, the prototype's shadow looming on a screen. "They're upping the game," Peter laughs, his madness teetering. "Let's play harder."