Transformer in MCU

The Daily Bugle had never operated with such ruthless efficiency. On this particular day, every department was mobilized like a well-oiled machine, driven by one purpose: to destroy Spider-Man. 

The result was a fresh edition of the newspaper, published and distributed at an unprecedented speed. It instantly grabbed the attention of pedestrians and online visitors alike.

The headline was beyond sensational: "Spider-Man EXPOSED! Caught in a Pickle—A Hero Who Can't Keep It Together!"

The title was provocative enough to attract readers like moths to a flame. People are drawn to the extraordinary, hungry for scandal and eager to indulge in stories that make them feel superior. 

And so, Spider-Man was once again the talk of the town—but for all the wrong reasons.

Take a look at the editorial written by J. Jonah Jameson, the sharp-tongued editor-in-chief of the Bugle. His writing oozed with spite:

"Spider-Man has never been modest. Time and again, he operates outside the law with no regard for the responsibility of our brave police officers. 

He swings through this city with reckless abandon, as if the rules don't apply to him. And now, we know why. 

It's because he's never grown up. He's just a child—immature, rebellious, and frankly, sick."

"But he met his match atop the Empire State Building. Let me introduce 'The Mechanic,' a mysterious figure who appeared during a crisis, showing Spider-Man for what he truly is: a boy who urinates off skyscrapers and hides behind a mask to cover his shame. Ladies and gentlemen, behold the truth of Spider-Man. Ah, yes, Pickle Sick."

Beside the editorial was an edited photo that had gone viral. It showed Spider-Man, standing at the top of the Empire State Building, positioned as though urinating off the edge. 

Although the image was blurred and censored, the unmistakably small, pixelated area of the photo told the story Jameson wanted everyone to believe. 

Spider-Man, the hero, reduced to a pathetic figure, humiliated in a way no one could ignore.

When Spider-Man finally rid himself of Downey—who had urinated off the Empire State Building without a second thought—he was filled with relief. 

But that relief quickly gave way to confusion as he noticed the strange way people were looking at him on the streets. 

Wherever he went, pedestrians stopped and stared at him with a mix of horror, disgust, and pity.

Still, Peter Parker, beneath the mask, felt a twinge of excitement. The recognition, the thrill of being noticed, momentarily overshadowed his frustration. 

He had been ignored and bullied for most of his life as a high school student, but now, as Spider-Man, people paid attention to him.

He reveled in the acknowledgment—until he heard the whispers.

"Look! It's Spider-Man! Oh my god, that's Pickle Sick!"

Spider-Man froze mid-swing, his grip on his web faltering. He lost balance and tumbled through the air, landing hard on the sidewalk. 

His crash knocked over a display of mannequins in a nearby clothing store, leaving him tangled in their plastic arms.

Onlookers gasped and recoiled in disgust. "That's the guy who peed on everyone!" one woman spat. "What a disgusting, perverted little freak!"

Another man sneered, "No wonder he wears a mask—he's probably too ashamed to show his face after what he did. And did you see that thing? Pathetic."

Spider-Man's face burned beneath his mask as the words sank in. He stood up stiffly, disentangling himself from the mannequins with clumsy, robotic movements. 

His mind whirled with confusion. What is happening? he thought, his heart hammering in his chest.

Still reeling, Spider-Man headed to a familiar hot dog stand, hoping to calm his nerves with a greasy snack. As he approached, the shopkeeper greeted him with a knowing smile. 

"Hey, you're back! Ah, Pickle Sick, right? How's that rebellious streak treating ya?"

Spider-Man's spider-sense flared up in warning, sending a pulse of panic through his body. He turned and fled the scene, ignoring the shopkeeper's shouts behind him.

"Wait! Don't go, Pickle Sick! I got your usual ready!"

Spider-Man's heart raced as he swung through the city, desperate to escape the nightmare. Why is everyone calling me that? he thought, his frustration boiling over. He needed answers—fast.

Without thinking, he leaped onto a rooftop, threw his head back, and screamed into the sky. The sound echoed across the city, raw and filled with desperation.

A crowd below noticed him. "Hey, isn't that Spider-Man?" a bystander nudged his friend. "Yeah, that's him! Pickle Sick, right? He's the one from the news!"

Spider-Man's scream cracked as he heard them, his anguish overpowering him. He felt tears well up behind his mask. How did this happen?

"Poor guy," an elderly woman sighed, shaking her head. "Just a boy... so young, so lost. And now this? Pity the poor thing."

Spider-Man had become the subject of worldwide ridicule. The Daily Bugle's scandalous headline and the humiliating photo spread like wildfire across social media, turning what had been a local embarrassment into a global spectacle. 

Even those who didn't care about superheroes now knew about Spider-Man's so-called Pickle Sick incident.

At the Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson reveled in his victory. The article had shattered records, and the newspaper's website traffic was higher than ever. Jameson's office was buzzing with excitement as he looked over the trending charts.

"Spider-Man, you fool!" Jameson cackled. "You'll never live this down!"

---

Meanwhile, Downey, who had unintentionally triggered Spider-Man's humiliation, wasn't even thinking about the web-slinger. Their brief encounter atop the Empire State Building had been a mere distraction.

Downey had far bigger issues to worry about. After laying his parents to rest, he had turned down S.H.I.E.L.D. 's offer and struck out on his own, charting a new path in the shadows of the city. 

He had come to the Empire State Building for a purpose, though not for the reasons Spider-Man might have assumed.

Downey was no longer the third-tier mutant that people believed him to be. His powers had grown exponentially, advancing him to fourth-tier status. 

And while the world still underestimated him, he knew better. People thought that third-tier mutants were easy targets—subjects for experimentation, like lab rats. 

But they had forgotten something crucial: even third-tier mutants could be more dangerous than they appeared.

Wolverine, for example, was only a third-tier mutant, but he could easily wipe out an army.

Downey, now a fourth-tier mutant, was ready to show his enemies just how deadly he could be.

As he walked into the underground parking lot, he noticed the figures lurking in the shadows, agents from various factions who had been sent to track him. 

They thought they could ambush him, capture him while he was vulnerable. But they had no idea what they were dealing with.

Downey's lips curled into a wicked smile as the figures moved closer. He was ready for this.

"Let's see what you've got," he muttered under his breath. "You think I'm weak? You have no idea who you're dealing with."

The shadows closed in, and the game began.

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Sayo nara mina~~