Gravestone's Graveyard
Suit Picture cause web novel didn't let me post it yesterday.
***
"I can work with this", Peter grinned as he looked at his armoured hands. It wasn't true armour, as it was layered skin, but it could most definitely stop a bullet or two.
"Of course you can, I made it after all", Gwen said, her mask hiding her smile. "I knew that you'd break out of your suit every time you transform, so I didn't integrate the Miniaturized computer interface. You did tell me that your mind did compare to a computer anyway..."
"You made a miniaturized computer interface?!", Peter's head snapped over to her in surprise. After seeing the warehouse and the speed at which she came up with her suit, perhaps he had vastly underestimated Gwen's intellect.
"Yup. I managed to sew miniaturized Integrated Circuits into the fabric of the suit. I had to miniaturize almost everything - it was a pain in the ass", Gwen shrugged tapping her temple twice which made the web patterns glow again. "See? It's in the patterns."
"That's...damn!", Peter's eyebrows rose, evidently impressed. She'd managed to manufacture a similar suit to Tony's Spiderman suit in her garage. "What are its features? How does it help?"
"Oh, those. They'd take a loooong time to explain", Gwen waved him off. "A HUD, Sensors to monitor my physical condition, Voice Command Interface, Augmented Vision types and more. It's not complete either. I need a power source to keep the suit running for longer than a day. It's nothing much."
"Stop being modest. What you've accomplished is nothing short of incredible. You've singlehandedly broken through multiple roadblocks in human technology. You're a goddamn genius!"
"Oho, look who's talking~~", Gwen flipped over the printer once more, landing before a costumed Peter whose hoodie slipped down. "Haven't you figured out how to make people immortal?"
"Well...technically, it's just biological immortality, not immortality...", he began, but Gwen pulled her mask up and kissed him, shutting him up.
Peter parted his mouth, deepening the kiss before placing a hand on her back and pushing forward, bending her backwards in the process. She giggled and grabbed his neck, but just as they were beginning to get comfortable, Gwen's computer patterns transmitted a few voices in her mask. Peter practically being in her face and having enhanced hearing allowed him to ever so faintly make it out.
[ Bzzt....Dispatch, this is Alpha. We've got a superhuman altercation in progress near Obsidian Nexus. Request immediate backup. }
[ Bzzt... Copy that, Alpha. Backup en route. Please provide a description of the superhumans and their location ]
[ Superhuman, sir. The leader is one male, mid-30s, pure white skin -perhaps albino. Has displayed superhuman strength and impenetrable skin. He seems to have a bunch of henchme- BANG!BANG!BANG! - SHIT! Communication has led to gunfire. They're heavily armed. We have ten officers pinned down at the north side of the Obsidian Nexus Company. Requesting SWAT and EMP's ASAP. ]
[ Alpha, this is Bravo. Teams have been dispatched. ETA, Five minutes. Be prepared for containment. ]
[ Copy, Bravo, suspects appear...]
"Well, wasn't this perfectly timed?", Peter grumbled as they broke the kiss in surprise.
"You heard it?", Gwen asked him in surprise, her arms still around his neck.
"I have good ears."
"And have a good kiss."
"Thanks, but shouldn't we be going?", Peter tilted his head, lightly amused. He didn't mind occasionally dipping his hands into vigilantism if it meant he could put down powerful villains for good and/or if he wished to test his limits against people who genuinely wished to kill him. After all, the fewer supervillains there were, the more security he'd have.
"Yeah, we should", Gwen sighed, untangling herself from him before thinking for a few seconds. "How'd you like this to be our first date?"
"Deal", Peter smiled, the chromatophores in his body changing his skin - making it deathly pale. His irises turned grey, and his hair turned pure white. It wasn't much of a disguise, but a face mask would seal the deal.
***
"WOOOOHOOO!!!", Gwen yelled as she and Peter jumped from rooftop to rooftop, one using web shooters and the other merely using his powerful legs and Adhesive touch to try and follow the white blur that shot forward with incredible agility.
The wind blew back Peter's hood, revealing a messy, wind-blown set of white hair that was distinctly different from his own, grey eyes that held more depth than his original ones ever did and pale skin that looked akin to death itself. A half-mask that Gwen pulled out of the seemingly unending space in her garage covered the bottom half of his face.
It matched the colour scheme of his suit, which was now black and grey, a complete contrast to his Form II. It consisted of three large draconic claws stacked next to each other. He didn't need to use straps to make it stay in place either - his Adhesive Touch did the job for him.
"Can you keep up?", Gwen shouted back to him as she swung by him with elegance.
{I'll manage}, Peter growled, his Primal Sense acting like a sixth sense - almost intuitively telling him where to place his foot and when to jump over the buildings of the bustling streets of New York City. It had gone back to its usual routine by now, the streets pieced back together by the government and volunteers - mostly.
"I still can't get over the voice."
{You have all day for that}, Peter replied as a part of his brain focused on what he wanted to accomplish today.
Although he hadn't begun to scratch the limits of Form II, he had a decent idea of what he was capable of when transformed, which was not the case with his Base Form.
As far as he knew, he had a Superhuman Physique, Hyper - Regeneration, Adhesive touch, Limited Chamelion-Derived Shifting, Danger Sense and his Brain Evolution in his Base Form.
With the idea he had in mind with Shaw's X-Gene, he may have to sacrifice the psychic ability he'd gotten from the evolution thus he couldn't rely on it. Either way, it merely induced an immense fight-or-flight response in humans - if they chose to flee, they would run away faster than they ever had before; if they chose to fight, they would fall into a berserker frenzy.
But the main ability that the psychic upgrade he'd lose would be the one that let him sense the mental signatures in a four-mile radius. Although this was useful, not only did the upgrade compensate, it only worked on humans as evidenced by its malfunction on Kurt Wagner.
'Either way, I need to use my strength in the most efficient way possible', he thought as he flipped over a water tank, closing in on the Obsidian Nexus building.
A trained man and an untrained man were, if he dipped his toes into East Asian vocabulary, Heaven and Earth apart. If he truly learned to use his ten-tonne plus strength to peak efficiency, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that he could compete with someone twice as strong as him.
'Do I need to really join a Dojo?', he wondered as he finally spotted the large black building, the sound of gunshots echoing in his years. 'Is that really necessary, though? If humans figured it out, so can I - especially if it's related to human anatomy.'
Technology was a completely different ballpark compared to Martial Arts. Sure, experience played a large part and if he had access to masters such as the Iron Fist and Shang Chi he would most definitely, again plagiarising Eastern dialogue, take pointers, but he didn't.
'Wasn't there something about original Martial Arts being the strongest ones?', he thought as he and Gwen landed on a truck before dashing toward the action.
'Or is that some more Martial Artsy bullshit?'
***
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The superhuman's gaze remained fixed on the looming building before him as his men held down the law enforcement behind him. A few stray bullets had managed to hit his back tearing through his two-piece suit, but it bounced off his skin as though it was a sheet of metal.
He snorted at the impact that felt like a flybite. Ever since he'd gotten locked up in that room, the one with the green smoke, he had 'mutated'; changed.
He didn't bother listening to what the doctor had said before he'd smashed his head in - all he cared about was the fact that he now had the strength to throw cars around like toys. The strength to finally take over New York.
"But you knew my every move, didn't you, you fat fuck!", he growled at the building once more. It was as wide as it was tall with glass windows and a large black Diamond logo on the very top with the name of the company plastered on it - Obsidian Nexus.
On paper, it was a highly successful manufacturing company, but in reality, it was a front. An illegally run business in the very heart of New York City.
It was one of the biggest money-laundering schemes he'd ever laid his eyes upon, and that was saying something given his two-decade-long career in organised crime.
Where did all the money come from one may ask?
The answer to that question was that Obsidian Nexus was the most famous, and most credible human and superhuman assassination and mercenary organisation in the underworld. One that was run by two heads that well...butted heads on almost everything. He'd gotten hired under one of the heads and had worked his way up the ranks until he was Otto Octavious' main muscle while the 'The Hunter' was Wilson Fisk's
How that partnership came to be was something even he didn't understand, but he'd planned to take advantage of it - hoping to swallow the company whole, but just when he'd brought most of the mercenaries to his side, and was planning a mutiny, Otto randomly disappeared a week ago. Fisk then ate up his side of the company becoming the sole head of the Obsidian Nexus, the biggest mercenary organisation in America.
There were rumours of Otto having an argument with Fisk which led to a physical confrontation and that Octavious had ordered the death of Jack'O Lantern, one of Fisk's most trusted and skilled human informants which led him to believe that Fisk had orchestrated the whole hullaballo.
He was the one who'd torn down his dreams of power, and now, with Fisk's consolidated power, he could do nothing but watch five years of hard work go completely down the drain.
"But if I can't do it in the shadows, I'll do it in front of everybody!", he growled, walking over to the large metal entrance.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire continued behind him as he heard the police calling out for backup, but he gave it no heed as he grabbed the bars before ripping them apart with ease, the reinforced metal seemingly turning into wet clay under his touch.
'Cold as ice and hard as marble.'
Thats what people said about him behind his back. He could've beaten the shit outta them for running their mouth, but he liked it.
After all,what else would you call a Tombstone?
***