The Hurricane
"Do you not understand, WORM!"
"I REFUSE!", Doom boomed as the gravitational field around Mephisto multiplied tenfold. A gigantic magic circle manifested underneath the man in black, green chains shooting up to entrap him.
Yet, Mephisto merely smiled, throwing the giant ruby containing Doom's mother in the way of the chains before shooting up towards the newly created crack in reality that led to his dimension.
"One does not simply bargain with Doom", Doom thundered once more as his chains refused to stop, breaking through the ruby and wrapping around Mephisto's arms. "Especially not pitiful wretches such as yourself."
BOOM!
The ruby and his mother dissipated into an illusion as Mephisto was slammed into the ground, green chains slithering over his limbs akin to snakes. The crack in reality was forcibly closed as the archaic runes kicked out the dimension that dared step foot in Castle Doom.
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
The sounds of Doom's footsteps echoed in the ears of the Devil as he moved closer.
"Victor~Victor~Again with the pride~", Mephisto sang as he was pressed into the marble floor. "Why is your ego soooo big? Are you compensating for something else? Ah, poor Valeria - she must not have been satis-Ugh!"
A metallic boot slammed into the man's mouth shutting him up.
"You've dirtied my boot", Doom looked down on Mephisto with disdain. "A pity. I quite liked it."
"Ouch!", Mephisto winced in false pain. "You win, you win. Do what you wish."
The Devil ceased his struggle and sighed in defeat, yet there was no sign of satisfaction on Doom's face.
SLAM!
A gauntleted fist tore through Mephisto's chest, ripping out...nothing.
"A puppet...", Doom spat as the grinning body of the Devil dissipated into wisps of fire. "No matter. His presence here reveals not his power, but his fear."
He swiftly turned around and made his way out the gigantic doors, his green cloak billowing behind him. He knew Mephisto better than anybody on Earth, and he knew for a fact that Mephisto did not come here to get the Sanctum's destroyed.
He probably had another set on that task, someone much more reliable than himself.
No, Mephisto was here to goad him.
It was to remind him that he still had his hands on his mother.
'Your arrogance shall be your unbecoming, Infernal Jester', Doom's eyes glinted with amusement. 'Just as you have peered through Destiny in an attempt to build your meagre kingdom, so have I.'
"I have seen him, Infernal Jester. The one who shall become the Harbinger of the Descent and your Doom", he muttered, his figure disappearing into the long hallway. "I look forward to meeting you, Peter Benjamin Parker, the Devilscrouge."
***
CRACK!!
A large crack practically split the cocoon in half as a steaming human hand burst out of it. It was followed by another one which gripped the sides of the organic chrysalis, ripping it in half in a swift and dextrous movement and letting out a large burst of steam that engulfed the dusty room.
"Urgh! Never doing that again", a figure climbed out of the remnants of the Chrysalis, waving away the steam that it'd gotten too much off.
Eventually, the godforsaken steam slowly cleared off, revealing a man whose appearance could only be described in terms such as 'faultless' and 'immaculate.' Every single muscle was perfectly carved onto a body that seemed to be fashioned by the gods themselves.
His hazel eyes that briefly flashed a bright orange drank in his newly reconstructed body and the sensations that came with it.
He felt...powerful and far more in control of himself, as though every single muscle fibre was under his conscious and voluntary jurisdiction. He felt as though he could stop his heart if he chose to will it so.
Not only was he far, far more powerful than before, this was just his Base Form. That wasn't all, as he enjoyed the feeling of his mind being empty for a while. Gaining Shaw's X-gene for Psionic Energy Absorption came at the cost of losing his control over reptiles and mentally scrambling human brains, but it was a worthy trade-off.
He'd have given up anything to prevent people from getting into his head.
"This is pretty overwhelming...", Peter muttered as he reached out into his core and guided an incredible amount of energy into his hand. He could see his veins slowly begin to light up, making his arm glow with the temperature to melt steel like putty.
"Fascinating", he smiled as the air began to warp at the heat.
But just as he was going to test the highest temperature he could reach with Exothermic Manipulation, he noticed something that he did not expect whatsoever.
'Why can I feel two switches in my head?', he thought in confusion as his hand slowly began to cool. 'Wait...don't tell me...did the fusion of Extremis and the Lizard Serum spontaneously induce another Form? Do I have another transformation other than Form II?'
BZZZZ!
BZZZZZ!!
BZZZZZZZ!!!
"Geez, won't you just let me have my moment?", he grumbled as he pulled out his phone from the backpack without accidentally crushing it. Despite the unknown strength boost from the Extremis, his control over his body was impeccable. He possessed such exceptional control that even if he were to slam his fist through a concrete wall while holding an egg, it wouldn't break.
"Peter! You've got to get back!", May's frantic voice emanated through the phone the moment he answered the call.
"What? Why?", Peter frowned.
"There's another one of those superhumans spotted in the city!", she said hurridly. "Get back here!"
"Where?", he immediately asked, now intrigued. Was it yet another supervillain who was stupid enough to reveal themselves to the public?
"Somewhere in Bleecker Street, it's not safe out!"
"But it's nowhere near where I am!"
"Parker! I'm just worried. I'll feel better if you're here."
"Fine...I'll be there in a few minutes"
CLICK!
'Bleecker Street. Isn't that interesting', he thought as he threw his phone back into his bag.
"But before that, I do have to try something...", he smiled as he took a deep breath and reached out for the foreign switch in his head.
A mental click sounded the moment he did so, BIHT activating that very instant and sending the designated hormonal triggers through his body.
"Ah!", he took a sharp intake of breath as his irises turned a dark orange and pupils vertical slits.
A surge of heat promptly erupted from within. It was an intense warmth that surged through his veins like liquid fire, invigorating his every cell. It began at his core, before spreading outward in a pulsating wave.
In the span of a heartbeat, his skin started to take on a peculiar transformation. Dark, obsidian-like scales clawed their way out from beneath the surface, each one rough and rugged, appearing to absorb the very light that fell upon them. They raced to envelop his muscled arms and parts of his torso, blooming on his chiselled body with an unfulfilled fury.
His fingertips elongated, forming sharp, obsidian-like talons that seemed to only exist to rip and tear while his muscles bulged and contorted, clamouring to accommodate the sudden boost in strength. Each curved claw glistened with a faint orange glow as though ready to be heated to temperatures rivalling those on the surface of the sun.
His breath hitched once more as he felt yet another explosion in strength, his muscle fibres almost vibrating in glee. his pupils narrowed further as he brought his scaled hands to his face, immediately noticing the lava-like orange glow that seemed to simmer underneath the jet-black scales, just waiting to explode.
"Whoa!"
***
Meanwhile, in a Russian E and P oil base.
Volya Orlov twirled a hand-made cigarette in his hand as he reclined in his soft swivelling chair in his office. He wasn't supposed to be smoking, but old habits die hard. The ban on selling cigarettes in the bases didn't do much to curb his addiction, instead, it merely led to him learning how to make them himself.
His office was a modest room and he liked it. His desk took up most of the space while a large window to the side gave him a good view of the similarly modest scenery outside.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Oh shit...", he said softly as he quickly put out the cigarette before chucking it into the small dustbin on the side. "Come in!"
The door opened revealing one of his colleagues with a scrunched nose, staring at him with disappointment.
"You said you'd stop it Orlov", he muttered as he walked in with a file underneath his armpit before taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
"Eventually", Orlov shrugged before immediately choosing to change the topic. "What's the matter? You don't look good and I don't think it's only the cigarette smoke."
"You're right. The higher-ups are in a panic", his colleague agreed, angrily slamming the file on the table. "Something about the stocks crashing. They want our oil production to double by the end of the next month."
"Shit! Which means....", Orlov eyed the file.
"Another transfer."
"Where to?", he asked tentatively. Hopefully, it was someplace with good foo-
"The Artic."
"FUCK!"
"I know...I wanted to punch them myself."
"Want a cigarette?"
"Fuck off, Orlov."
***