Not So Friendly Anymore

The night air was cold and sharp, biting into Peter's skin beneath his suit. He didn't mind. The numbness helped. Emotions were the first things to die in a war, and Peter Parker no longer felt anything but purpose. Tonight, Smythe and Crossbones were going to die, and with each death, Osborn's empire would inch closer to collapse.

Perched on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, Peter stared through the night vision lenses the symbiote granted him, scanning the target, a fortified industrial compound humming with activity. The buzzing of Spider-Slayers inside was faint, like a distant swarm of wasps, but Peter knew their threat all too well. These machines were designed to hunt him, to study his every move, every weakness. And he was done running from them.

Beside him, Sable adjusted the strap of her rifle, her silver armor gleaming faintly under the moonlight. Her movements were precise, controlled. "Perimeter patrol changes every forty-five seconds. Two guards on the north gate. Five inside, armed with pulse rifles." She glanced at Peter, her voice low and cold. "No hesitation tonight."

Peter gave a sharp nod. "There won't be."

"On my signal," Sable whispered, rising to her feet.

Peter fired a web toward the compound's outer wall, and with a flick of his wrist, shot through the air. He landed silently, clinging to the shadows as Sable moved like a ghost behind him.

The first two guards at the north gate didn't even see him coming. A web shot to the throat silenced one, and before the other could react, Peter's boot slammed into his jaw, sending him crumpling into the dirt.

Sable put a bullet in the second man's head. The muffled pop of the silencer echoed for only a second before silence reclaimed the night.

Peter glanced down at the lifeless bodies. "Two down."

"Three more inside," Sable said, already moving.

They slipped through the north gate and into the compound's heart, where rows of unfinished Spider-Slayers hung from the ceiling, their lifeless red eyes like dormant predators. The hum of machinery filled the air, accompanied by the faint buzz of patrolling drones.

Peter and Sable moved as one, their steps synchronized. A guard turned the corner, his pulse rifle raised, too slow. A web shot tangled his weapon, and Peter followed with a brutal punch that shattered the man's nose. Blood sprayed across the floor as the guard fell limp.

"Leave him," Sable ordered, her voice flat. "We're here for Smythe."

Peter stepped over the unconscious body without a second thought.

They reached the lab doors without incident. Peter fired a web at the control panel, yanking it free, and the doors hissed open with a mechanical groan.

Inside, Alistair Smythe hunched over a console, typing furiously. Rows of Spider-Slayers lined the walls, their metallic limbs twitching as systems rebooted.

Peter's presence was announced with the sharp thwip of webbing striking Smythe's arm, yanking him from the console. The man hit the floor hard, coughing as he tried to scramble away.

"Spider-man," Smythe gasped, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. "I knew you'd come."

Peter stalked toward him, his steps deliberate, measured. "Then you know why I'm here."

Smythe sneered despite the blood trickling from his lips. "You think killing me will stop anything? Osborn owns this city. You're just a loose end."

Peter didn't reply. Words were meaningless now. He grabbed Smythe by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The man thrashed and clawed at Peter's hand, gasping for air.

"You built machines to hunt me," Peter whispered, his voice devoid of emotion. "You thought you'd win."

Smythe coughed, blood bubbling from his lips. "Killing me... won't change anything. Osborn... will always... win."

Peter's grip tightened. The wet snap of bone echoed through the room as Smythe's neck twisted at an unnatural angle. His body went limp, and Peter let it drop to the floor without ceremony.

"Done," Peter muttered.

Sable stepped into the room, her gun drawn. She glanced at Smythe's lifeless body, then at Peter. "We move. Now."

They left the lab behind, slipping through the compound's labyrinthine corridors as alarms began to wail. Guards swarmed the area, but Peter and Sable cut through them like knives. Webs tangled limbs and guns, and Sable's bullets finished the job with clinical precision.

They reached the perimeter and disappeared into the night, leaving behind a trail of bodies. But the mission wasn't over.

Next was Crossbones.

The shipyard stretched out beneath the pale glow of the moon, a decaying remnant of New York's forgotten industry. What was once a bustling hub of trade had long since withered, its rusted cranes standing like skeletons against the night sky. Cracked pavement and rotting docks gave way to warehouses, their broken windows and sagging roofs cloaked in deep shadow. Now, the place belonged to men like Crossbones, a sanctuary for criminals who thrived in the city's darker corners.

Mercenaries prowled the grounds, rifles slung casually over their shoulders, their movements sharp but lazy, as if daring anyone to try their luck. Floodlights sliced through the mist rising from the harbor, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every corner seemed to hum with tension, the silence broken only by the distant creak of steel and the faint lapping of water against the pier.

This place was a fortress now, Crossbones' hideout, reinforced with muscle, weapons, and enough bloodshed to keep most people far away.

Peter crouched on the edge of the roof, his lenses narrowing as he scanned the scene below. "Ten on the perimeter. More inside."

Sable chambered a round in her rifle, her expression cold and focused. "We go in fast. No mistakes."

Peter gave a grim smile beneath his mask. "None."

They moved together, slipping through the defenses like specters. Peter's webs neutralized cameras, and Sable's silenced rifle dropped guards before they could raise an alarm.

They reached the heart of the compound, where Crossbones stood at the center of the chaos, barking orders at his men.

Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing with a thunderous impact. Webs shot out in every direction, ensnaring mercenaries before they could react.

Crossbones grinned beneath his mask, cracking his knuckles. "Spider. I've been waiting for this."

Peter didn't hesitate. He lunged, fists flying. The two collided in a violent blur of punches and kicks, each blow landing with bone-crunching force. Crossbones was strong, but Peter fought like a man possessed, every strike fueled by rage and the need to end this nightmare.

They battled fiercely, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the compound. Crossbones landed a heavy punch, sending Peter skidding across the ground, but Peter was already back on his feet, webbing the mercenary's arms to his sides.

"Any last words?" Peter growled, his voice cold and final.

Crossbones sneered. "You think killing me will change anything? Osborn's still out there."

Peter's response was swift. With a brutal twist, he snapped Crossbones' neck. The mercenary's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Before the last surviving mercenary could react, Sable raised her pistol and shot him in the head. The sharp crack of the gun echoed in the silence that followed.

"Mission complete," Sable said, holstering her weapon.

Peter stood over Crossbones' body, his breath steady despite the pounding in his chest. "Osborn's next."

Sable gave him a rare, fierce smile. "Together."

They vanished into the night, leaving behind only death and silence.

With Smythe and Crossbones dead, Osborn's empire was beginning to crumble. But Peter knew the battle wasn't over. Each kill brought him closer to the end, closer to the reckoning he had been chasing for so long.

And when he finally stood face-to-face with Osborn, there would be no mercy.

This time, it would end.

For good.

Thanks for reading everyone

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