The Superior Spiderman in Young Justice

Superior Spider-Man stood atop a skyscraper, watching Metropolis below him, the city bathed in the warm light of a late afternoon. His mask reflected the setting sun, his sharp, calculating mind already shifting gears. The stolen LexCorp technology had been integrated into his arsenal with remarkable precision. His upgraded web-shooters hummed with new power, and his enhanced neural interface gave him an edge in every encounter, but it wasn't enough. He needed more—he needed to understand this world's so-called protectors. The Justice League, the ones who called themselves heroes, were growing more interesting by the day.

Otto had long suspected that the world's heroes were little more than glorified amateurs, clinging to outdated ideals. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the rest branded as paragons of virtue, but flawed, their weaknesses hidden beneath layers of reputation and mythology. It was time to learn more about them, not as the world saw them, but as they truly were.

And then there was the government their covert dealings, their complicity with the League. After all, how could such a powerful, unchecked group operate without oversight? How far did the corruption reach? These questions gnawed at Otto, as did the looming threat of the growing number of supervillains people who were not content to just live in the shadows. They were becoming increasingly brazen. Their rise, Otto realized, was a symptom of a much larger problem.

The time for subtlety was over. It was time to make his move.

The first step was to investigate. Not just LexCorp, but the broader network of power players in Metropolis. He had already begun gathering intel on Superman, Batman, and the others, but now he needed something more—he needed to see for himself. He needed to understand the extent of the League's control.

Otto Octavius had unearthed a revelation during his meticulous research into the Justice League—a truth that both fascinated and frustrated him. Despite their incredible power and influence, the League operated under a profound limitation: an ignorance of the systemic, internal conflicts festering beneath their surface. For all their heroics, they seemed blind to the untapped potential of their resources, a fact Otto found nothing short of egregious.

The Justice League wasn't just a gathering of powerful individuals—it was a coalition of gods, aliens, and mortals, all equipped with technology and abilities that could transcend the bounds of human achievement. They had access to wonders that could revolutionize the world. And yet, in Otto's eyes, they squandered it.

Their alien allies brought advancements far beyond what Earth could produce—superior medical technologies capable of eradicating terminal illnesses, genetic disorders, and even aging itself. With such tools, humanity could move beyond disease, achieving a new paradigm of health and longevity. The environmental tools they possessed could cleanse polluted waters, restore damaged ecosystems, and reverse decades of industrial harm to the planet.

But none of these advancements were implemented on a scale that mattered. The Justice League busied themselves with the immediate—rescuing people from crumbling buildings, halting rampaging supervillains, and saving cities from catastrophe. Noble, yes, but shortsighted. They were stewards of unimaginable potential, and yet they failed to address the underlying rot in the system. Otto couldn't help but ask: why?

The answer, Otto concluded, lay in their mindset. Heroes, bound by ideals, were reactionary by nature. They saw themselves as protectors, not revolutionaries. They had chosen to fight crime rather than eradicate the conditions that created it. They saved lives in the moment but ignored the long-term suffering that could be prevented. To Otto, it was a failure of vision—a refusal to wield their power fully for fear of stepping beyond their prescribed roles.

Yet, for all their restraint, the Justice League still wielded immense influence, operating from the shadows of their sanctum: the Watchtower. The orbital headquarters, hidden far above the Earth, was a marvel of engineering and secrecy. Few had ever laid eyes on it, and fewer still knew its exact capabilities. To most of the world, the Watchtower was an untouchable fortress, unreachable by conventional means.

But Otto was anything but conventional. The more he studied their patterns—their communications, protocols, and movements—the more flaws he identified. They were confident in their technological superiority, but that confidence bred complacency. It became clear to Otto that the Justice League, for all their strength, was not as impervious as they believed.

He saw their blind spots, their vulnerabilities, and he intended to exploit them. To Otto, this wasn't about personal vendettas or proving his superiority—it was about fulfilling a responsibility the League had ignored. If they would not use their power to reshape the world, then someone with the will and intellect to do so would have to step in.

The world didn't need protectors who reacted to crises as they arose; it needed leaders who could foresee and prevent them. Otto was determined to show the Justice League what true power and vision looked like, even if he had to dismantle their illusions of invincibility to do it.

As he made his way through Metropolis, Otto kept an eye on the city's major criminal hotspots. The more time he spent studying the city's infrastructure and surveillance systems, the clearer it became that the government, particularly agencies like ARGUS, were far more involved with the underworld than they let on. ARGUS—who were they protecting, really? Were they acting as a safeguard against the League, or were they complicit in something far more sinister? These were the kinds of questions Otto needed to answer.

The streets of Metropolis were rife with tension. Despite the presence of the Justice League, criminal activity had not subsided—it had merely adapted. Smaller factions, rogue villains, and street gangs had emerged, emboldened by the knowledge that they could operate under the radar of the League's vigilant eyes. Otto could see the disorganization, the chaos, the cracks in the system that no one else seemed to notice.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden surge in the city's power grid. A flare of heat and light from the northern skies—Superman. Otto's sensors detected his unmistakable presence, his raw, undeniable power. The 'Man of Steel' was soaring through the skies, coming down on a particular sector of the city with a speed and force that was characteristic of the Kryptonian hero. Otto's spider-sense flared, and he instinctively crouched low, his body instinctively reacting to the oncoming danger. But this wasn't an enemy attack—it was Superman responding to a situation, no doubt.

It wasn't hard to figure out the location. There was a disturbance in the industrial sector. Otto's eyes narrowed as he saw the chaotic scene unfold in the distance. A group of armed robbers had infiltrated one of the city's power plants, and now Superman was zeroing in on them. This was a perfect opportunity—an opportunity to analyze Superman's tactics firsthand.

Without hesitation, Superior Spider-Man launched himself into the air, his webbing propelling him across rooftops. The distance between him and the power plant was negligible—he would reach it in no time. As he approached the scene, he could already see the flashes of heat vision slicing through the air, the telltale signs of Superman's arrival.

When Otto reached the scene, he landed silently atop a nearby building, watching as Superman confronted the robbers. The man of steel was an imposing figure, his cape billowing as he stood tall in the midst of the chaos. The robbers, clad in high-tech armor and wielding advanced weapons, looked like nothing more than toys in Superman's presence. But they weren't here for a confrontation—they were here to get away.

"Get out of our way, Superman!" one of the criminals shouted, brandishing an energy cannon that crackled with raw power.

Superman didn't flinch. His voice was calm and resonant as he responded. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let you take what doesn't belong to you. This city doesn't belong to people like you."

The criminals hesitated, their bravado faltering under the weight of Superman's presence. There was something undeniably powerful about his words—something that made even the most hardened criminals second-guess their next move. Superman stepped forward, his blue eyes burning with intensity.

"I know you're desperate," he continued, his voice softening. "But there are better ways. You don't have to do this. There's always a way out. Let me help you."

Superior Spider-Man observed quietly from the shadows. There it was—the difference between Superman and him. The idealism, the sense of hope. It was clear that Superman wasn't just trying to stop the robbers—he wanted to change them. His conviction was both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. And it would be his downfall.

The robbers weren't moved, though. They fired their weapons, blasting at Superman with all they had. But the bullets and lasers barely made a dent. Superman moved with ease, dodging their attacks and disarming them one by one with swift, fluid motions.

In a flash, the scene had shifted from one of confrontation to one of near-complete submission. The criminals were disarmed, their weapons rendered useless. They were helpless against the sheer force of Superman's presence.

"Please... don't hurt us," one of the robbers pleaded, his voice trembling.

Superman's expression softened. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to stop this madness before someone gets hurt. You don't have to live like this."

There was a pause as the criminals looked at one another, the reality of their situation settling in. They had come to Metropolis to steal, to destroy—but now, in the face of Superman's compassion, they were unsure. His words, his heart, were enough to break through the hardened exterior of even the most desperate. And yet, despite all his power, he couldn't force them to change. That would take time, patience, a commodity he did not always have.

"Take them to the authorities," Superman said to the approaching police officers. He gave them a reassuring smile, his demeanor one of calm leadership. "Let's make sure they get the help they need."

As the robbers were escorted away, Superman turned, his gaze sweeping over the city. Superior Spider-Man, still hidden on the rooftop, saw the weight of his gaze—the unspoken burden he carried. This city, this world, was not perfect. But for Superman, there was always hope. There was always a belief that things could get better.

Superior Spider-Man watched for a moment longer, his mind calculating, his thoughts cold and methodical. He had seen Superman in action, and it only reinforced what he already knew. Strength alone was not enough. Superman's heart—his compassion, his unyielding optimism—was his greatest asset. But it was also his greatest flaw.

Otto didn't have time for ideals. His vision was one of order, of control. The world needed a leader who understood the value of perfection, not the flawed mess of hope that Superman believed in. And Otto was going to be that leader.

"I'll be watching you, Superman," Otto whispered under his breath. "And when you fail, I'll be here to pick up the pieces."

With that, Superior Spider-Man disappeared into the shadows, leaving Superman to his mission of hope.