MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

*Boom!*

The Vulture lunged at the killer robot inside the narrow subway car. The sharp whistle shattered the carriage's glass in an instant. A missile launched from the robot's chest, aimed straight at the Vulture.

The Vulture anticipated the attack, dodging towards the window and flying out. The missile struck the roof of the carriage, blowing it off, and then shot into the sky. In an instant, the carriage was filled with flying debris, turning into a chaotic mess.

The Vulture re-entered the carriage, diving in through another window. His sharp claws pierced into the robot's chest, and the force from his high-speed flight drove the robot into the carriage wall. Believing he had succeeded, the Vulture allowed himself a moment of triumph—until the robot grabbed his arms.

*Zzzt!*

A surge of electricity coursed through the Vulture's body. He cried out, mustering all his strength to strike the robot's chest. With a thunderous crash, both the Vulture and the robot tumbled out of the subway car. A strong gust of wind swept through, scattering metal fragments all around.

The Vulture's flight mechanism barely functioned, severely damaged. Clutching his scorched arm, he stood atop the subway car, breathing heavily as the robot advanced towards him. The only sounds were the rush of wind and the steady hum of a propeller.

He glanced up to see a helicopter above, keeping pace with the speeding subway.

"Damn! Why is this tin can so hard to deal with?"

Panic set in as he realized that media presence meant the police would soon follow. He couldn't afford to be cornered. As his anxiety mounted, he felt a slight vibration underfoot. The sound of footsteps echoed on the carriage roof.

The Vulture looked up to see a figure standing above him. Clad in black "armor" with a sleek mask that emitted a faint glow, the figure's translucent, light-white eye covers gave him an air of mystery and gravity. Despite being wrapped in a black uniform, he appeared streamlined and agile, as if the outfit were a part of his body.

The robot also noticed the unexpected intruder and, following its orders, charged towards him, intent on eliminating the newcomer.

Peter eyed the approaching robot, his brow furrowing. The machine moved swiftly, closing in on him in an instant. Its massive arm swung towards Peter.

*Bang!*

Peter caught the robot's arm with one hand, and with his other, covered in a black exoskeleton, he delivered a powerful punch to the robot's chest. The machine, which had seemed like such a formidable opponent, was sent flying with a resounding crash, landing heavily on the roof of the subway car.

The Vulture, stunned, stared at the now-immobile robot.

What kind of monster is this guy? Did he just destroy that thing with a single punch?

---

*Bang!*

Meanwhile, at Osborn Enterprises, Norman Osborn leaned forward and slammed his hands onto the table. The screen in front of him turned to static. The last thing the robot's camera captured was a black fist hurtling towards it, followed by the signal cutting out.

The robot was destroyed.

"What the hell happened? What is that thing?" he bellowed at his staff. But the confused technicians could offer no answers.

"Damn it! Do whatever it takes to get that thing back online!" Norman growled. He had planned to use the fight to gather data on his robots' combat capabilities, but the sudden appearance of this new opponent had thrown everything into disarray. His frustration was matched only by his growing anger.

Back on the subway, after dispatching the robot, Peter turned his attention to the Vulture. As the Vulture recovered from his shock, he glanced up at the approaching police helicopter, its propeller whirring louder by the second.

Fear took hold, and he prepared to take flight. But Peter intercepted him. Before he could get airborne, the Vulture felt a hand tighten around his throat, yanking him back down.

His claws lashed out, attempting to scratch Peter's arm, but he never got the chance. Peter tightened his grip, then slammed him into the metal of the subway car.

*Bang!*

The Vulture's back hit the metal surface with full force, a sharp pain shooting through his spine. His flight mechanism shattered instantly, and parts of it were swept away by the rushing wind.

The Vulture looked up at the "monster" standing over him, a glimmer of red flashing in Peter's eyes, a chilling aura of menace radiating from him. Trembling, the Vulture managed to choke out, "You... monster!"

Before he could say another word, Peter kicked him off the speeding train with a *bang*.

With the Vulture dealt with, Peter leapt back onto the moving subway car, landing with a *thud*. His sharp vision scanned the nearby carriages, catching glimpses of panicked passengers—but he couldn't see Uncle Ben. Obstacles within the carriages obstructed his view.

Just as he prepared to continue his search, an unexpected sound filled the air.

*Crash!*

Glass shattered as the robot, knocked down earlier, burst through a window, charging at him once more. In the slow-motion of heightened senses, Peter tracked each piece of flying glass.

*Swish!*

He extended his right wrist, shooting out a thread of black spider silk that hit the robot square in the face. The corrosive web quickly ate through its outer shell and internal circuits. The impact sent the robot spiraling out of the train before it could re-enter, plummeting off the elevated track.

With the robot dealt with, Peter turned his attention to the train's controls. The driving system was damaged, making it impossible to stop the train. He checked the station map inside the carriage, noting the location of the final stop. If the train couldn't stop in time, it could crash at the end of the line.

"Time's running out," Peter muttered, his expression turning grim as he considered the potential disaster ahead.

"Not enough time!" George Stacy shouted inside a police car, slamming his fist against the window as he looked at the subway schedule. The last station on the route was circled on his map: "New York Museum of Natural History."

"No, no, Gwen!" he whispered in panic, suddenly remembering that his daughter was visiting the museum that day, fear gripping his heart.

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