174. Webs, Fire and Better Armor. (Patreon)

Gwen POV:

Doc Ock talked too much.

That was my first thought as I skidded across shattered concrete, boots sparking while four metal tentacles slammed down where my head had been a heartbeat earlier. The Iron Spider Mk. II compensated instantly, micro-servos whining as I flipped upright and shot a webline straight into one of the arms.

“Okay, Otto,” I said, tugging hard. “We’ve been over this. Super colliders? Bad. Multiversal holes? Worse. Alchemax science projects? Basically a horror movie waiting to happen.”

He laughed. Wild and manic. His laughter echoing through the half-constructed chamber where the skeleton of a rebuilt collider loomed like a steel god waiting for it's twisted worship.

“You never learn,” Doc Ock snarled. “The multiverse demands to be understood!”

“Yeah,” I shot back, vaulting over a spinning claw and landing on a gantry, “and my husband demands I come home alive, so guess which one wins?”

One of his arms clipped me mid-sentence and sent me flying through a stack of crates. The armor absorbed all of it but I still felt the phantom jolt as if it rattled my bones.

As I rolled to my feet, I couldn’t help the memory that flashed through my mind. Earth-1610-B. Kingpin. Vanessa. Richard. A collider tearing reality apart out of grief and obsession.

Peter hadn’t hesitated after that.

With Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D., he had dismantled Alchemax. Burned its multiversal research to ash. No reckless science. No more people playing god with universes like toys. Peter made certain that not even S.H.I.E.L.D could do anything funny.

And yet here was Otto Octavius, stealing funds, stitching together a new collider from scavenged parts like a mad tailor.

“Do you people ever take the hint?” I yelled, firing a volley of web-bolts that glued two of his tentacles together.

He roared and ripped them free. “Progress requires sacrifice!”

I sighed, my lenses squinting. “You know, every villain says that and none of you ever volunteer yourselves first. That's the difference between scientists like you and Peter Parker and Tony Stark. They experiment on themselves and you look for unlucky test subjects.”

I lunged, magenta spider-legs unfolding from my back and their plasma blades turned off. The monomolecular blades striking his tentacles in coordinated arcs. For a moment..just a moment.. I thought I had him.

Then...

FLASH.

White. Absolute. Familiar.

Doc Ock froze mid-motion, stumps of his tentacles locking, his body convulsing once before collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

I blinked. Slowly turned my head.

“…Peter?”

But it wasn't Peter, it was a Spartan IV that stepped into view, servos of the MJOLNIR armor humming softly, Assault Dominator rifle still smoking faintly at the barrel.

“Ma’am,” She said crisply, “I’m here to pick you up. Parker Industries has entered DEFCON 2.”

My stomach tightened. “DEFCON 2…?”

She held out a pristine white case. “Equipment upgrade.” She said.

I knew that case.

My fingers tightened around the handle as recognition hit.

“Archangel of the Web Mk. II.” I whispered.

The Spartan nodded. “Sir said you’d know.”

I glanced once more at Doc Ock, paralyzed on the floor like a bad idea finally that was told no.

“Guess playtime’s over.” I muttered and followed her towards the waiting Wraith.

Tony POV:

I was bleeding.

Not a lot. Just enough to be dramatic.

“Forty-nine,” I said to the camera, pressing a cloth to my arm as the injector clicked empty. “That is forty-nine micro-repeaters embedded throughout my body. Which means if this kills me, Pepper gets my cars and most of my stuff, Rhodey gets my suits and Happy gets my bar tab along with ten percent of Stark Industries shares.”

J.A.R.V.I.S chimed calmly, because of course he did.

“Sir, your vitals are stable. Elevated heart rate but well within acceptable parameters.”

“Acceptable for who?” I muttered. “Because I feel like I just arm-wrestled a blender.”

There was no reply.

I straightened, rolling my shoulders. “All right. Test time. Mark Forty-Three. Prehensility trial.”

I snapped my fingers.

The armor responded.

Red, silver and gold segments screamed through the lab, snapping into place mid-air, locking onto me in perfect sequence. Chest. Arms. Legs. Helmet hovering, waiting.

I grinned. “Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.” Then the groin plate hit and I buckled down.

“Sir, incoming call from Mr. Parker.”

I wheezed. “Put him through.”

“Tony,” Peter’s voice said immediately, no pleasantries. “Did it work?”

I scoffed painfully. “Wow. Hi. Hello. I’m alive, my groin is fine, thanks for asking. And yes, it works. I basically just told physics to sit down and behave.”

“Good,” Peter said. “I moved Pepper to a safe location.”

That wiped the grimace right off my face only to replace with a frown. “You what?”

“No time. Also, open your hangar. I’m sending you something.”

“…Peter,” I said slowly, “you don’t usually send gifts that don’t involve explosions.”

“And Tony?” He added. “If a Maya Hansen shows up asking you to complete an incomplete formula don’t do it.”

That… set off alarms and who's Maya Hansen?

Before I could respond, J.A.R.V.I.S interrupted.

“Sir, an unidentified object is approaching the hangar at high velocity.”

“Of course it is,” I sighed. “Because why wouldn’t it.”

The armor hit me like a second heartbeat.

Red. Gold. Black.

It wrapped around me seamlessly, overriding Mark 43 without resistance as it peeled away to make way for the model 72. Interfaces blooming into existence like it had always been there. The weight no, the balance was surreal.

J.A.R.V.I.S chimed in.

“Integration complete. Armor designation: Iron Man Model 72. Plating material. Unknown material designated as Mysterium along with Uru and Vibranium-S.”

I stared at my hands as energy danced beneath the surface, power humming with a depth I’d never felt before.

“…Peter,” I asked, “what did you just give me?”

There was a pause.

“Insurance.” He said.

I swallowed.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “You’re paying for my therapy.”

But damn if it didn’t feel good.