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Welcome to Project TACTAS!
↳ We really don't need to do the introduction thing again, do we?
It's for the report. You have to. ↲
↳ …fine, fine. We'll do the introduction thing again.
↳ My name is Peter Parker. I was bitten by a radioactive spider when I was ten years old. For the last six years, I have been the one and only Spider-Man. (Yes, Hope, the hyphen is important.)
↳ I'm sure you know the rest.
↳ I saved the city a dozen times. I… couldn't save my Uncle Ben. I hurt Hope and Harley more times than I know either of them care to admit. Mentored with the Avengers when I was twelve… sort of. Didn't work out very well… they didn't focus on the "little guy" as much as we spiders do, but Mr. Stark and the Captain invited me to! I even gained my own supervillains after, like, a year of heroing.
↳ After two years of being Spider-Man, Hope was bitten by a totally different radioactive spider, and then I became a mentor (which was… weird). Then Harley joined our little team a year after that, helping Ned behind the scenes. And then I still had to mentor him because he started taking up his own spider persona—albeit only when Hope or I was unavailable. Apparently???
↳ I blame Mr. Stark. He was the one to give Harley a damn suit. Granted, he also technically interned with Miss Natasha-
Stay on track, Peter. ↲
↳ Sorry, Sorry. Almost done.
↳ Almost two months ago, Hope went missing during [REDACTED]. Last month, Harley was busy being kidnapped, apparently (according to what Ned could find), by [REDACTED]. That's a new one.
Well done, Petey- er, Peter. ↲
Now we can begin the interview. Tell me what happened on… July twenty-first, 2022? ↲
↳ Well, for starters, somehow, everything went to even more shit.
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Earth 7227-BRE
July 21, 2022
New York City, New York, somewhere in Manhattan
Rain pounded loudly against the grimy, cracked windows of the warehouse, almost perfectly in time with the rhythmic hum of machinery inside. Sparks flashed and pipes quietly hissed. Small sparks of light danced across the steel, rust, and all of the semi-abandoned equipment strewn about the Lab corner of the warehouse. On top of, of course, the actual horror movie-esque lightning going on outside.
Doc Ock knew how to pick a vibe, that was for sure.
Peter was dodging metal tentacles with all the grace of a highly caffeinated acrobat—which, really, wasn't a false description with how the night had gone. Wind rushed past his ears as a sharp whistle, even through the mask, as he flipped backward, simultaneously shooting a web to yank one of the metal limbs away from his face.
"Hey, Otto! Quick question: did you wake up this morning and decide to be an even bigger jerk than usual, or is this actually just your natural state?" he quipped, tilting his head to peer around the metal claw straining against his palm. "Oh! Or maybe it's the rain? Catch a little seasonal depression?"
"Always so amusing, Spider-Man. But your jokes will only delay the inevitable!" Doc sneered, cold as ever. Booooo!
His three remaining mechanical arms raised, each claw visibly twitching in anticipation. In the darkness of the warehouse, Doc Ock's form was almost completely swallowed in the shadow of those metal monstrosities.
…!!
Another tentacle lashed out. Peter twisted away, webbing a dolly and yanking it directly into the tentacle's path. Said dolly was immediately crushed like a cheap, aluminum can.
"Come now, Spider-Man," Doc Ock grinned, fingers flexing against the metal railing before him. A second later, his metal arms lashed out again. “Let’s see if that humor of yours is enough to save you this time!"
“Oh, trust me, Doc. I’m about to dazzle you with my stand-up routine!" the young spider quipped.
A web latched onto one of his metal claws, and Peter yanked it toward him as he flipped through the air like a trained acrobat (well, self-trained on VHS tapes, if it matters). He tied the other end to a roof beam, looping it twice, before he landed gracefully on top of a rusted forklift. For good measure, he got a second claw with a similar method on the way down, tying it off on the wall behind him.
Doc wouldn't be going anywhere soon with those in place. Unless he managed to snap the webs… Which would be bad. But, they were still experimenting with this new and improved strength formula of web fluid, and it had been pretty good over the last two weeks! It shouldn't break, so if Peter was going to be optimistic about it, two down and two to go wasn't too bad for being five minutes into the fight!
The two metal limbs that were still free, however, had other plans: they twisted violently, one snapping forward in a snake-like strike. Peter’s spider-sense screamed—
Watch Out!!
He vaulted away just in time, the claw embedding itself in the concrete wall. Yikes! Needle! That was an upgrade from their last fight!
Double shit, the second limb he’d tied was broken free. Good news again, though! The webbing was still tied around the roof beam, so Otto hadn't collapsed the ceiling in on them. And the other metal arm was still embedded in the concrete wall, so there was still difficulty for him to maneuver much.
“A little aggressive tonight, Doc! Someone skipped their court-mandated yoga classes," Peter taunted in a sing-song tone, darting around the fourth claw, which had come up behind him.
“Oh, spare me the juvenile chatter!" Otto growled, face shadowed with fury and eyes glinting dangerously beneath his glasses. “You always get in my way, Spider-Man! This time, the only joke here will be you!"
A tentacle whipped back around toward him, claws snapping. Peter pushed himself into a backflip; it narrowly missed his head, embedding itself into the wall. (Again.)
“Your aim is off today, Doc! Let me show you—” Peter shot two webs at the forklift from earlier, slightly damaged but still solid enough to be used as a weapon, pulling them taut. “—how it’s done!”
Peter yanked on the machine, throwing it up into the air before pulling it right back down, straight towards Doc Ock’s head.
CLANG-THUNK!
It crashed into his metal limbs instead. Shit. The villain skid to a stop just barely three feet back, tossing it to the side. Too bad. If only Peter had had a semitruck on hand… that would've definitely stopped him.
“Nice try," Doc sneered, slamming two claws into the ground. The concrete shattered as a result, and the limbs lifted the villain up into the air. “But you forget, Spider-Man...”
One of the claws lashed out, snatching a nearby steel beam, and Otto hurled it at Peter's head like a very large, very heavy javelin.
“...I am in control here!"
He dodged it, heart pounding in his chest as it whistled past his ear. Too close, Peter thought.
“Control? You sure about that, Doc? 'Cause last I checked, you were one really bad hair day away from a complete meltdown," Spider-Man shot back, landing in a crouch, fingers braced against the concrete.
Spidey’s focus sharpened, drinking in every twitch of those claws. This fight was starting to drag on too much. He needed to find a way to slow Otto down. Create an opening…
Ugh. This would’ve been so much easier if Arachne were here; she would’ve slunk in from the shadows, and they could have tag teamed him from both sides. That's on him for getting too used to having a partner in nearly every fight, though. He'd done it alone before, and he was good enough to relearn how to do it alone again. He had to. He wasn't the first Spider for nothing.
Otto’s laughter was cold and sharp, like a knife’s edge, “And yet, you can never seem to lock me away for good! Your efforts are fruitless!"
Peter was about to respond when his spider-sense roared, It was so loud, Peter thought his head was splitting in two.
Too late. The metallic claws shifted, though for once, not to attack. They parted like the jaws of a trap, and then… There. In Otto's human hands was something new: a small metallic sphere.
Was that-? How did Doc Ock get a grenade? Scratch that; he's a scientist and a supervillain. Of course he got his hands on a grenade. He probably had connections. The real question was: why did it look like something from Green Goblin..? Did he make it?
Something was off. Big Time.
“Tell me, Spider-Man…" Otto called, a dangerous, almost manic, smile curling on his lips. “…Do you believe in fate?"
“Uh, I’m more of a ‘choose your own path’ guy," Spider-Man quipped. But his pulse was racing, his skull was being cleaved in two, and every one of his senses was screaming at him to get the hell out of there. “What’s with the softball, man? Teaming up with Goblin now? I didn’t think he was your style."
Ignoring his questions, Otto's smile only seemed to widen, “Allow me to show you a gift from my benefactor."
“Benefactor? You went to rehab-?”
He hurled the grenade. And pulled something over his face at the same moment. Huh-
Shit!
Spider-Man reflexes kicked in. He shot a web, intending to slingshot it ( basically) right back at Doc Ock to give him a taste of his own medicine.
…But the moment his web made contact, there was a loud Boom! that rattled the windows of the warehouse and filled the space with an awful smoke that smelled like death. In an instant, Peter understood why Doc had pulled something over his face—it had been a gas mask. Likely specially made by the same 'benefactor' that made the grenade. The blast alone sent Peter flying backward, wrecked his suit (an ominous [COMMS DISCONNECTED] flashed over his HUD screen), and threw him straight into a wall.
He gasped, the force of the hit knocking the wind out of him. His lungs filled with that thick, green mist instead of stale warehouse air. He coughed. Clawed at his throat when coughing felt futile. Spots danced in his vision.
It was choking him out.
This wasn’t the first time seeing this mist, especially in a fight, but it was his first time inhaling it. It was like the mist/smoke had completely replaced every molecule of air in his lungs.
This was bad. Really, really bad. Zero out of ten experience.
Another steel beam clattered against concrete as Doc Ock lifted it from the ground—and then it flew toward him. As if the villain wanted to make doubly sure Spider-Man died here today. He didn’t have time to completely get out of the way, much less the energy, but he still had to make sure it wouldn’t kill him. Maim a little, maybe. But no dying today.
He hoped.
He just had to move. Move, Peter. Damn it, move!
W A T C H O U T ! ! !
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↳ Ugh. Alright, let’s do this again.
↳ My name is Harley Harper. I was decidedly not bitten by a radioactive, genetically modified spider as my sister and cousin were. However, I did do some detective-level investigating (stalking, snooping, everything in between) and found out my sister was a hero; I weaseled my way into helping her out. So for the last three years, I’ve been Watchman, the behind-the-scenes guy for New York’s newest Spiderling. And I’m content with that!
↳ That doesn’t mean I can’t fight, though.
↳ On occasion, only when the webheads really need help, I go out into the field and leave good ‘ol Ned to the guy in the chair stuff. That’s when I go by Huntsman! Y’know, to keep with the spider theme? (Hope named me. I thought it was stupid, I know you agree.)
Better than me. I called myself 'Drake' for a while there. ↲
↳ …Is that not just your real name??
… ↲
↳ Anyway, I’m sure you know the rest from there.
↳ I watch traffic and security cameras, write up contingency plans for the growing list of villains, direct Arachne around the city during her shift—sometimes I even get to hack into places a 16-year-old really shouldn’t be able to hack into. I blame that on their poor security systems. (Looking at you, Homeland Security.) So, in summary, I do all the fun “guy in the chair stuff”! I'm basically Ned's other half.
↳ Unlike Hope and Peter, I don’t have... that much of a guilt complex when it comes to my dad’s death. I held a very, very big grudge over Peter, my cousin, for it though.
↳ I’ve heard his story. He was the one who had powers at the time. He had a chance to stop the gunman before anything ever happened. If it weren’t for him being so indecisive and angry, I would still have both of my parents.
↳ But I digress. It’s been 6 years since my dad died. I’m… mostly over the grudge now, but I obviously still have my moments where I’d rather kick Peter in the shins with a steel-toed boot for being a dumbass. I’ve held a grudge with Hope over less, to be completely honest.
↳ Mom dying wasn't even his fault, really. She just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when Green Goblin blew up the food bank. (Don't ask why it was targeted; who knows why that freak does anything he does.)
↳ Oh, speaking of Hope! My sister has been completely MIA for a month (I’m going to strangle her as soon as I find her. She’s not dead. She can’t be). Meaning Arachne hasn't been out patrolling for that whole time. Peter was off on some field trip that I couldn't go on (had to catch up at school, major bummer). So I am the only one still in New York. Which meant going out as Huntsman, the only non-powered spider, as the sole hero around to keep the city in check at the smallest level. Since the actual Avengers couldn't be bothered to deal with muggers, small-time robbers, and such. Go figure.
Harley. Dude. The point? ↲
↳ Oh, right, shit. Sorry.
↳ So, everyone knows that Peter was like... Avengers adjacent? Or something? I dunno, he worked with Tony Stark a lot under the guise of an “internship”, but I’m pretty sure the guy was just trying to subtly adopt him. Well! In the same vein, and because I’m an insufferable little shit, I spent a couple of weeks training with Natasha without Peter or Hope knowing. I’m not completely helpless out in the field, I just prefer to... You know. Not get beaten up.
↳ Computers don’t beat people up, and I still barely trust them! Only enough that they won’t screw me over and bring about the technology apocalypse part two. (Remember Ultron?) I trust the yucky, awful criminals that New York has to offer even less. Or maybe just about on par? Hm... I think the jury is still out on that one, actually. I’ll get back to you on that.
Harley. ↲
↳ ANYWAY!
↳ Luckily, the city has been… adequate? with them both gone? I don't wanna say the q-word right now. It doesn't feel the same as saying the q-word, but yeah. New York City has been adequate in their absence. It’s a miracle crime hasn’t absolutely skyrocketed, honestly. The lull in criminal activity gave me much more time to look into Hope’s disappearance and catch up on the schoolwork I’ve been neglecting because of said disappearance.
I'm starting to see the relation to your parents… Can we please focus, Harley? ↲
What happened on June twenty-third, 2022? ↲
↳ Uh. Well, like the other two yahoos, I go to high school at Midtown School of Science and Technology—or just Midtown if you aren’t a prick—right? It's the same school I would have been at, if only that guy had known how to leave a completely average teenager, obviously on his way to get his education, alone.
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File: Harley Harper
Earth 7227-BRE
June 23, 2022
New York City, New York, Somewhere in Queens
"Just a moment of your time!"
Harley huffed, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his (dad's) leather jacket. He wished more than anything that this random guy would just leave him the hell alone. He didn't want to miss his English class today; they were supposed to watch The Great Gatsby to finish off the unit, and Ms. Estrella's class was the only place he could actually work on upgrading Cortana without getting harassed about his classwork being done. She never had to ask about Harley because he made sure to stay on top of his shit. Twas a tricky balance of being a helper of two heroes and a high school student.
"Don't you have anything better to do than harass a literal child?" Harley snapped. "I oughtta call you a predator or something."
The man remained unfazed. “Just a minute of your time, kid," he insisted.
How annoying.
"Can't. Sorry." Harley pushed past the man, feeling zero guilt.
Just one more city block, and he'd be at school. He could upgrade Cortana, finally link her up to the secret cameras Peter placed around the city for him (before he left for his field trip), and his nightly patrol would go a hell of a lot smoother than it had been for the last week.
But then the man’s expression shifted. His scowl deepened, his entire face contorting in cartoonish discontent.
“I think you’ll want to listen to me, Harley Harper. Don’t you want to know what happened to your sister?” Harley froze. The warm summer air around him suddenly felt ice-cold, like someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over his head. The man's lips split into a sickening grin. His pupils narrowed into eerie slits, “Mah! Too bad you didn’t want to talk.”
“What?”
That’s entirely too many teeth for a regular person- Oh Fuck.
The man pulled out a syringe filled with a sickly green liquid and a very, very real grenade. Harley’s heart sank. He recognized that type of grenade instantly; he’d reviewed the footage from a month ago every single day, for hours at a time. It looked just like the grenade that [REDACTED] had used on Hope.
Without hesitation, the man jammed the syringe into his own thigh, pressing down on the plunger and injecting the green liquid directly into his body—probably into his bloodstream, since he went for the thigh. That’s how EpiPens worked, right? Harley figured it was the same concept.
The transformation was nearly instantaneous.
The man’s body twisted, growing at least three feet taller in an instant. New, bulkier muscles ripped the seams of his clothes clean open. His skin darkened into a muted green and thickened. A snout with sharper, too many teeth to be fully human, suddenly grew from his previously very human face.
Harley felt his blood turn to ice.
Fantastic. A villain that Harley had absolutely zero chance of handling on his own. Not as Huntsman, and definitely not as a civilian. He wasn’t like Hope and Peter. He didn’t have powers. He couldn't just pull out any of his gear right now, either. Not in front of the public or this apparent villain. He couldn’t fight this guy even if he tried. Even with his emergency beacon, would any help actually arrive in time? Or was it pretty much inevitable that he would die here and now? He would have preferred never having to find out, honestly, but that didn't seem to be in his cards today.
“I really wish I could’ve just had a normal Tuesday," Harley muttered, watching Lizard Dude pull the pin on the grenade and rush forward.
Because of course he was about to get blown up by a giant lizard with a freaky new Goblin grenade. So not cool.
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Let's start with introductions. ↲
↳ Alright, let’s do this one last time.
↳ My name is Hope Harpers. I was bitten by a radioactive spider when I was 12 years old. For the last 4 years, I have been the one and only Arachne! I’m part of New York City’s friendly neighborhood web-head duo (sometimes a trio, but that’s for later).
↳ I’m sure you know the rest.
Explain it to me anyway. Just a summary will suffice, Hope. ↲
↳ I saved the city at least a dozen times. Couldn’t save my Dad. My twin brother Harley discovered my secret double life, then promptly declared himself my “guy in the chair” and wouldn’t let me refuse. Got recruited to... to some “Elite Spider Team” by another Spider-person—Miguel O’Hara, aka Earth 2099’s Spider-Man—but it had to be all hush-hush for whatever reason.
Hn… ↲
↳ Hey, I always figured it was a scam; I was proven correct when he attacked that Miles kid. I only agreed because it was a hard point in my life: my brother had just almost died, my cousin had almost died, my mom lost the house… among other, smaller worries.
Hnn…… ↲
↳ It was just my luck, really. No, seriously! I’m notoriously unlucky. It runs in the family.
…I am well aware. ↲
And what happened on May eighteenth? ↲
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File: Hope Harpers
Earth 7227-BRE
May 18, 2022
New York City, New York, Somewhere in Brooklyn
Why was Hope fighting for her life? Simple. The Vulture was a complete psycho who wanted the dynamic Spider Duo dead. She and Peter refused to let him get away with that, or to let him continue being an even bigger menace to society than J. Jonah Jameson thought they were.
That being said, Vulture was currently kicking her ass. But to her not-so-great luck, backup had just arrived—
“Arachne!”
—Just in time to watch Vulture successfully barrel into her like a quarterback mid-swing, sending her crashing into a wall.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her momentarily stunned. It all happened so fast. Instantly, her backup, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man (duh), was at her side, helping her up. Or at least, he tried to, anyway.
“Ow-” she whispered with a wince. “I’m fine. I’m good.”
“Hope, I don’t really-”
She gently shoved him off, already swinging after Vulture, who was, of course, escaping.
“SorryPetergottagobyeeeee!” Thwip!
Hope had a bird to catch. One who was currently spouting the usual “I’m going to destroy the city” monologue. Booooring! She wasn’t even really paying attention to what he was saying, working mostly on muscle memory and instinct.
As soon as Vulture perched atop a flagpole, she fired off a few webs, trying to wrap him up and end whatever plan he was concocting. Standard stuff, just like she sa-
“You won’t get in my way anymore, Spiders!” Vulture screeched. He raised his hand in the air like a baseball pitcher about to throw.
Oh. That was a grenade! A grenade that didn’t look like anything Vulture should even have. Since when was he in cahoots with Green Goblin? That looked more like something he would make.
“Aw, crap.”
“Hope, Peter, we’re getting weird readings from that thing-” Harley’s voice crackled over the comms.
Vulture pulled the pin and hurled the grenade straight at Hope’s head. She dove out of the way. The grenade followed.
So… that’s definitely not normal.
“I can only guess why!” she radioed back to Harley, her spider-sense screaming at her to get away from the damn thing.
Peter shot a web at her back, which thankfully stuck without fail. Unfortunately, the grenade rolled to a stop at her feet. For a second, she just stared at it, listening to the rapid progression of angry beeping.
Beep… Beep… BOOM!!!
Peter yanked her back, but it was really the explosion that sent her flying. The deafening noise left her ears ringing, and her back slammed into Peter’s chest—not the worst thing that had happened, but still, ow.
But of course, that wasn’t all! It never was. A thick, green mist came billowing out of the grenade. It smelled like death. Aw, shit. Had Vulture teamed up with Green Goblin? So not cool.
In the confusion, Peter’s grip on her slipped. The smoke made it hard to breathe, hard to think. Vulture was taking full advantage of that. And Peter had more important things to do than worry about his dumb cousin passing out in the middle of a fight. Like, of course, the supervillain wreaking havoc at the moment. She had to get up, help somehow. No injury would stop her from doing her duty as a hero for the city, not even a stupid grenade leaking death-scented smoke.
…Then Hope’s head collided with the pavement with a resounding SNAP.