Spider-Man of Earth 65

"No idea who you are but you're dead. Even if not by my hand but by the princess and her country." Jefferson Davis smirked. "You really want to do this?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he launched himself forward like a coiled spring released. Felix moved faster than a blur, tackling Jefferson hard, driving his shoulder into the man's chest—

"You little shit…!"

Jefferson's suit discharged a burst of electricity, arcs of yellow flashing across the confined space, but Felix absorbed the surge without flinching, the energy folding into his body like a wave breaking on the shore.

The tackle continued.

Both crashed through the metal wall; through several inches of thick, metal that protected one item from another.

They were officially in the next room. Felix wouldn't let go. He couldn't with the grip that came with being Spider-Man.

They skidded across the sleek marble floor, slamming into a display case in the center of the room. That was when Felix finally departed from him. 

Neither lost balance. Felix, due to his momentum, had been pushed further back. But Jefferson? He was close to the shattered display case and something clicked in his mind. The first layer of glass had been broken but not the second. In the second layer of glass was electricity.

The Scorpion's favourite.

Inside the glass was an ancient-looking weapon—a sleek, black-and-silver gauntlet with a pulsating core.

This was the second last room, technically speaking. The further in the auction items were, the more expensive and powerful they became.

Without hesitating, Jefferson slammed his fist through the remaining glass, unaffected by the taser technology he himself installed in the glass, and yanked the gauntlet free.

Felix considered his web-shooters. He could have yanked the weapon away. But if he did…

'Not worth the risk. It will definitely reveal my identity.'

If spider-webs were found, then Eleanor Bishop could easily catch wind of it. The whole point of Felix blackmailing her was that he was a nobody. That couldn't happen if he was freaking Spider-Man.

Felix's Spider-Sense tingled, warning him. Danger.

"Let's see how you handle this," Jefferson muttered. He strapped the gauntlet onto his right hand, the device coming to life with a hum of blue electricity, a strange power coursing through its circuits. 

Felix called it strange because his Spider-Sense immediately flared up upon seeing it.

The Advanced Glasses were underneath his golden mask. Uncomfortable, sure, but better than nothing. And Herbie…

MAGICAL ARTIFACT DETECTED. 

"You're not walking out of here," Jefferson spat.

He blinked.

As in, Jefferson Davis teleported. It wasn't speed, it was instantaneous movement. One second, he was ten feet away and the next—

Felix ducked low, the fist grazing the air above him with enough force to shatter the wall behind him. 

'Wow! Thank you Spider-Sense!'

The issue wasn't damage. It was the golden mask. One hit and the one thing protecting his identity was gone.

Felix countered immediately, kicking out at Jefferson's legs, trying to throw him off balance. Jefferson stumbled but used the gauntlet to catch himself, slamming it into the ground.

Felix's senses flared. His mind worked fast—he jumped and sprang off the wall, flipping over Jefferson's next punch. He landed behind him, sending a pulse of black-and-white electricity through his fists, and delivered a sharp punch to Jefferson's exposed side.

Jefferson disappeared.

His Spider-Sense flared up. Too slow.

The gauntlet spawned into reality a millimeter away and slammed into his nose. The force of the punch sent Felix crashing through another wall, tumbling into yet another room. His back hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him for a second, but he pushed through the pain. 

Jefferson walked through the man-shaped hole. 

"This is Járngreipr, one of the gauntlets of Thor. I found 'em on another Earth." Jefferson flexed his gauntlet-clad fingers. "Alas, I couldn't find the other half. You're lucky, golden mask. I heard with the complete set, you can wield Mjolnir. And if I had Mjolnir…" He laughed. "Well, I'll just have to make do."

Jefferson slammed the gauntlet into the ground once more, sending another wave of energy through the room. Felix leapt forward and avoided the chunks of debris. The jagged stones flew like shrapnel. His feet touched the ground and he leapt again. 

Under those dark shades, Jefferson Davis was ready. He was more than ready.

"You're not the only one who can play with lightning."

The gauntlet surged. Yellow electricity exploded from Jefferson's arm, flooding the room in brilliant arcs of raw power. Felix's spider-sense flared—he raised his hand to absorb the energy, but as the yellow lightning hit—

It suddenly turned blue and pain ripped through him.

'I-it's—! So much…! Nnggfhh!'

The searing energy coursed through Felix's body, burning like fire. His muscles locked, his veins pulsing with heat. He stumbled, eyes wide beneath his mask, body screaming in protest and dropped to his knees.

That…

That wasn't something he could absorb.

That was the god of lightning. That was Thor's lightning. 

"Doesn't matter what Earth it is. Thor is Thor." Jefferson grinned and arrogantly walked. "It's not your garden-variety electricity. You think you're tough because you can take a shock?" He flexed his fingers again, and another pulse of blue—not yellow—lightning arced through the air. "This is power."

The Scorpion dropped down, knee touching the floor, and—

Slam! 

—hammered Járngreipr into Felix's chest. 

Spider-Man had never experienced such pain. Not against Captain America. Not against Mr. Negative.

Not even the Sleeper delivered this kind of pain.

He felt his whole rib cage cave in. His world went blue and he crashed into the next room.

At least that was what he assumed happened. His eyes, his ears, everything was fried and bloody. The golden mask wasn't broken solely because Járngreipr targeted him.

It was magic.

It was divine.

"Gah!"

It was too much.

On his knees, he vomited out blood. 'What the hell, what the hell—!?'

It didn't stop spewing out. He kept coughing up blood. The golden mask was overflowing. Drip, drip, drip. 

WARNING! WARNING! BODY IN EXTREME DANGER!

WARNING! LIVER FAILURE! HEART FAILURE! LUNG FAILURE! 

He could barely see. The Advanced Glasses had survived due to the magical aspect of Járngreipr; they only targeted Felix. Not his suit, not the golden mask, not his 3D printer watch, and not his glasses. Only his flesh and bone.

It was an effective trade-off.

Step, step, step.

His ears, nose, and tongue had regenerated. Good, great! At this rate, he could anticipate…

Step.

'There!'

He rolled and dodged the swing. It had been aimed for his skull; to kill him once and for all.

Jefferson Davis chased and laughed.

He had to think fast. Pushing through the pain, he dodged another wild punch, rolling to his feet and staying low. His mind raced, calculating Jefferson's movements. On all fours, he waited.

Jefferson smashed down.

That sadistic side of him was his weakness. Felix rolled at the last millisecond, jumped, and finally returned to his toes.

The Scorpion did not charge. He teleported, his gauntlet an inch from Felix's face.

He dodged. To the Scorpion's complete shock, Felix Faeth dodged.

So he kept doing it. He blinked in and out of reality, streaks of blue lightning following. It wasn't just his Spider-Sense, his vision was following a pattern. Dodge, dodge, duck, leap back. Every teleported swing was an inch away from him. Each strike would have been stronger too.

'If it made contact...!'

His Spider-Sense went wild. All that training in the gravity chamber was helping. Through struggle and pain, without web-shooters or a costume, Spider-Man could still fight.

'Jump!'

Blue lightning exploded from the right-handed gauntlet. Too bad that the range was short. Felix's back hit a wall and the lightning did not chase. Blood was still falling from his mask. 

'My vision is fully back now.'

His healing factor and Extremis were working overtime. His ribs, heart, lungs, and other organs were not fully back. The suit wasn't stained either. Jefferson didn't know the full scope of his powers in all likelihood. He didn't know he could wipe away a building with it.

Or maybe he did and he was holding back.

Back to the wall, Felix had one choice here. One opportunity to turn the tables.

If he kept dodging and letting this prolong…

'He might kill me.'

He could his heart beat again. Good. He was going to need it.

Jefferson ran, smiling, and overcommitted—a wild, heavy swing aimed at Felix's head. This was it. His back left the wall, he adjusted his footing and— 

"Ngh!"

Caught Jefferson's gauntlet mid-swing.

It was like holding down a building.

Felix's fingers locked around the gauntlet, his muscles screaming as the full weight of Jefferson's enhanced strength bore down on him. The energy vibrating from the gauntlet was almost too much, but Felix dug in, gritting his teeth.

Then his black lightning erupted.

In turn, blur lightning sparked from the Járngreipr, wild and chaotic, trying to end Felix's feeble shocks. 

It almost did.

For a moment, it felt like his arm might tear free from his body. The room rumbled, the air around them warping.

Magic versus science.

Blue and yellow versus black and white.

Felix fought through it, his own black-and-white lightning crackling and fighting. He could feel his power building, rising to meet Jefferson's—nay, Thor's. His black lightning surged through his fingers, clashing against the yellow in a crackling, blinding storm of energy. It wasn't enough to just match Jefferson—he needed to overwhelm him.

'More! More!'

Felix focused, pouring everything he had into the gauntlet. His black lightning pulsed, growing more intense, more concentrated. 

'MORE!' 

"Come on, then!" Jefferson roared, pushing back with all his might, yellow sprinkling in with Thor's blue. The arcs of electricity slashed through the space between them and around them.

The clash between black and yellow lightning reached its peak—a blinding storm of energy, tearing through the room, shaking the walls, making the ground tremble. Felix's muscles burned, his mind screaming for release, but he refused to let go.

The energy built to a critical point.

Boom!

The explosion swallowed more than room. It went further out and got to Yelena, the Prowler, Wolverine, and Kitty Pryde, whose battle had coincidentally placed them parallel to them.

Princess Ororo was spared, safe in that final room, just barely out of range.

Everything else was turned to debris. Parts of the ceiling collapsed and the marble tiling was burnt and shredded.

…

…

…

When his vision cleared, Felix found himself lying in the wreckage, breathing shallow, blood trickling down the inside of his golden mask. His organs were screaming in agony. He could feel them—lungs crushed, heart barely pumping, his body torn apart on the inside. His Extremis and healing factor were working overtime, slowly stitching him back together, but it wasn't fast enough. Every breath was labored, his ribs crackling with each attempt to pull in air.

'G-get up...come on...!'

For Rio. For justice.

He had to win.

Across the room, Jefferson Davis lay sprawled out, his gauntleted hand smoking. The Járngreipr gauntlet had finally broken—pieces of its ancient circuitry sparked and fizzled out as it crumbled around his forearm. His hand was a mess, burned and raw, skin blistered from the overload. But despite the damage—

"A-as if…!" Jefferson pushed himself up, teeth gritted, blood running from a gash on his forehead. "The Scorpion…won't die…a second time…!"

Felix staggered to his feet. He was healing, but not fast enough to restore his superhuman strength. Right now, he was running on fumes, operating at peak-human capability. His senses were still sharp, but his body—his muscles—weren't responding like they should. Every move was slower, weaker than it should be.

The Scorpion was in better condition.

The master of the auction shook his injured arm, discarding the remnants of the gauntlet, flexing his fingers like it was nothing. He rolled his shoulders, eyes locked on Felix, and there was something dangerous in that gaze. Something familiar.

'Kickboxing,' Felix thought as he watched Jefferson's stance shift, legs loose, fists tight. He'd seen this kind of form before—in the database of his training chamber. That stance was from someone trained to use their entire body as a weapon.

Like Aaron Davis. His brother, The Prowler.

They were trained the same. The Prowler, who could overwhelm the great Wolverine, and the Scorpion, who was now facing off against a weakened one-lung Spider-Man.

The realization hit Felix like a second blow. The Prowler fought like this—ferocious, explosive. Heavy kicks and brutal grapples. The way Jefferson squared his shoulders, flexed his knees—it was all there. The Scorpion and the Prowler both loved to dominate the fight, closing in fast and overwhelming with a combination of fists and powerful kicks.

Jefferson exploded forward, fast and precise. A sweeping kick lashed out toward Felix's head. Felix ducked, barely, and countered with a punch aimed at Jefferson's ribs, but his strike lacked its usual power. Jefferson caught the punch mid-motion, twisting Felix's arm behind him, and drove his elbow into Felix's back. Felix gasped in pain, his lungs still in the middle of regenerating.

"You can barely stand, and you think you can still win?" Jefferson growled, twisting harder, aiming for a submission hold. Felix's body screamed as his healing struggled to keep up with the damage.

Felix gritted his teeth and rolled forward, smacking Jefferson onto the ground and slipping free of his grip.

Jefferson was more trained than Felix though. He knew how to recover.

Another kick came, aimed low at Felix's legs. Felix blocked with his forearm but the impact jarred his bones, sending him stumbling back.

Jefferson pressed the advantage, launching a flurry of kicks and punches. Felix weaved, his senses barely keeping up. He couldn't absorb the hits. His body was healing, but it wasn't fast enough. He could only rely on skill now—reflexes and instinct.

'Dodge, dodge, dodge!' His ears were ringing and his vision was blurred from blood and the mask. 'Focus on your Spider-Sense!' 

Back-step, side-step, a clean duck.

A heavy right hook came, but Felix ducked under it and countered with a kick to Jefferson's midsection. It wasn't enough to knock him back, but it staggered him. Felix followed up with a quick jab to the side of Jefferson's head, then another to his stomach.

They lacked power. They kept the Scorpion at bay and nothing more.

Jefferson's next strike came like a freight train, his left hook slamming into Felix's shoulder, nearly dislocating it. Felix stumbled, gasping, his vision flickering for a moment. Jefferson moved in for the kill, aiming to grapple him to the ground, but Felix twisted free just in time, stepping back, trying to catch his breath.

His mask blocked his struggling breath. Jefferson didn't need to hear it. He could see it. He was conditioned to the level of peak human. He knew what was up here.

Felix stepped back. Back, back, back. One foot, then the other.

Jefferson cracked his neck and then ran.

He needed an edge. Something to break Jefferson's rhythm. And then it came to him.

"Rio Morales."

Jefferson did not stop, no. But he did go wide-eyed. He did hesitate.

That single moment of hesitation was all Felix needed. Jefferson's eyes widened, the confusion morphing into rage, but it was too late. Felix moved fast, ducking low beneath Jefferson's punch and then driving his fist into Jefferson's ribs.

"Gah—!"

And finished by throwing an uppercut that snapped Jefferson from the ground.

Eyes rolled back, Jefferson smacked to the floor, out cold.

Felix stood there, panting, blood dripping from his mask, his body still slowly healing from the destruction inside. He stared down at Jefferson's unconscious form, barely able to stand himself. But he'd won.