For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The psychic scream was not a sound; it was a physical hammer driving deep into Peter's mind. The intensity of the assault, now focused and amplified by M.O.D.O.K.'s mechanized chair, was far greater than anything they had experienced in the subway tunnel. It was a wave of pure, calculated fury and cold, surgical intellect that threatened to dissect Spider-Man's consciousness on a molecular level.
He collapsed, his helmet lenses flickering wildly, and a sharp, metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as his jaw clenched. His spider-sense was useless, a screaming, short-circuited mess. He was vulnerable.
Wonder Woman moved instantly. She did not hesitate. The psychic scream crashed against her own mind—a violent intrusion that rattled her composure but could not break her millennia-old mental discipline. She roared, a sound of pure, concentrated defiance, and launched herself forward, not to attack, but to shield.
She knelt, positioning her body between the hovering M.O.D.O.K. and the paralyzed Spider-Man, her vambraces crossed before her face. M.O.D.O.K. focused its gaze on the most immediate threat.
M.O.D.O.K.'s mechanized chair, bristling with high-tech weaponry, opened fire. Dual energy cannons mounted on the arms of the chair unleashed twin streams of crimson plasma. Wonder Woman met the assault with absolute stillness. She didn't dodge; she deflected. The plasma struck her bracelets with immense force, scattering harmlessly into the reinforced concrete walls. The deployment bay filled with the smell of scorched ozone and hot metal.
"SPIDER-MAN! TARGET THE SUPPORT SYSTEMS!" Wonder Woman roared, the command a sharp, focused point of light in Peter's darkness.
He fought to regain control, clinging to the sound of her voice, the rhythmic clang of plasma against bronze. He used the constant noise of the psychic attack as a filter, focusing on the scientific data points that M.O.D.O.K. was unintentionally broadcasting: the unique electromagnetic signature of its chair, the frequency of its psionic output. He forced his mind to see the creature not as a god, but as a flawed machine.
He lunged forward, firing thick, high-tensile web-lines, not at M.O.D.O.K., but at the massive, steel roof beams above. He yanked, pulling himself out of the creature's immediate line of fire.
"Wonder Woman, you're taking too much heat!" he shouted, his voice still strained. "I need a clear shot at the chair's chassis! Look for the power couplings!"
Wonder Woman executed a sweeping horizontal strike with her forearm, dissipating the psychic field temporarily. She used the respite to analyze M.O.D.O.K.'s fighting style. It was pure calculation, predicting her movements based on physics. It was relentless, but predictable.
"Understood!" she roared. She leaped backward with impossible speed, drawing the creature out into the open space of the bay. "The threat is on the move!"
M.O.D.O.K. swiveled, its weapons systems locked onto her. It unleashed a continuous torrent of energy blasts and psychic probes. Wonder Woman, drawing on her Amazonian training, became a blur of defensive maneuvers. She used the environment against the creature, kicking heavy, debris-filled crates into its trajectory, forcing it to expend energy destroying them.
While M.O.D.O.K.'s attention was consumed, Spider-Man moved. This was his role: the scalpel. He didn't engage M.O.D.O.K. He focused on the dozens of exposed wires and conduits that crisscrossed the deployment bay walls, leftover from the Stark Annex's decommission. He began weaving a complex web matrix across the main power junction leading into the bay, silently preparing a massive short-circuit.
"Its primary power source is the chair's core!" Wonder Woman communicated, deflecting a charged missile from the chair's missile pod. "It has an exposed uplink port for satellite communication on its dorsal flank!"
That was the crucial information. The Achilles' heel. M.O.D.O.K.'s power was centralized, and its strategic vulnerability was the control unit for the command directives.
Spider-Man web-zipped behind a large steel crane, his heart hammering. He focused his suit's interface, programming a specialized web cartridge. This fluid wasn't gumming or binding; it was a potent, highly corrosive, micro-filament web designed to bond and sever advanced circuitry instantly.
"I need ten seconds, Wonder Woman!" he yelled. "I need you to fix its attention! Completely!"
Wonder Woman knew the risk. Ten seconds of full exposure to M.O.D.O.K.'s focused attack could be devastating. But Peter needed the opportunity to strike surgically.
She roared, a challenge that transcended language, and hurled her entire body at M.O.D.O.K. The mechanized chair, calculating the high probability of a direct physical assault, unleashed its maximum power, attempting to incinerate her with concentrated psionic and physical energy blasts.
Wonder Woman used the impact as momentum. She met the energy blasts not with her shield, but with her outstretched hand, channeling the kinetic energy and the psychic force through her body. She didn't try to defeat the creature; she got close enough to disrupt its movement. She punched the chair's propulsion unit, but not with enough force to destroy it—only to send it spinning violently and erratically.
M.O.D.O.K. screamed, a psychic shriek of fury as its perfect control was lost.
That was the synergy strike.
Spider-Man launched himself from the shadows, a screaming, red-and-blue blur. He ignored the whiplash of the chair's spinning weapons array and the overwhelming, final psychic blast it emitted. He fired the specialized cartridge. The corrosive micro-filament web impacted the satellite uplink port and the primary control cluster on the back of the chair in a single, devastating shot.
The effect was instantaneous and terminal. The web dissolved the advanced circuitry in a flash of green corrosive smoke. The chair's lights flickered violently. The psionic energy field surrounding M.O.D.O.K.'s head collapsed. The massive head snapped back, the purple light in its eyes dying instantly. The hover-chair sputtered, smoked, and then plummeted to the concrete floor with a dead, heavy clang.
The silence that followed was absolute. The psychic scream was gone. The only sound was the distant wail of police sirens and the rapid, strained breathing of the two heroes.
Spider-Man collapsed against a wall, his body trembling, his mask momentarily fogged by his ragged breaths. He looked at the disabled, silent form of M.O.D.O.K. The battle was over.
Wonder Woman moved to his side, her bronze armor scuffed and scarred, her breathing heavy. She knelt beside him, her hand a firm, grounding pressure on his shoulder.
"We did it," he whispered, the words thick with exhaustion and relief.
"Yes," she said, her voice filled with profound gratitude. "But we must go. The authorities will be here momentarily."
She looked at him one last time, a look of deep, shared knowledge and mutual respect. She launched herself into the air, disappearing through the hole in the roof, leaving the incapacitated M.O.D.O.K. and the subdued A.I.M. forces for the inevitable clean-up.
Spider-Man, with the last of his strength, fired a web and swung into the night, carrying the memory of the psychic pain and the fierce, unshakeable pressure of his partner's hand—a memory he knew he would soon exchange for a very different, and much more profound, kind of connection.
THROW POWERSTONES FOR SUPPORT