Control
Press to fire. Touch to shoot. Tap to fire.
Description
The city was burning, a charnel house under a blood-red sky. Spider-Man swung through the choking smoke, the familiar thwip of his webs the only sound of hope in the silence. They were everywhere, shambling through the ruins, their moans a grotesque chorus. He’d seen faces he knew, neighbors, even a cop who’d once given him directions, now reduced to hollow-eyed monsters hungry for flesh. His spider-sense screamed a constant, piercing warning, a needle in his brain with every move he made. He wasn’t just fighting for New York anymore; he was its sole gravedigger. He landed on a crumbling overpass, his lenses narrowing at the horde below. With brutal efficiency, he fired webs, not to restrain but to destroy, yanking decayed limbs from rotten sockets, using their own weight to send them crashing into each other. He moved in a whirlwind of motion, a red and blue specter of vengeance. Every punch that landed wasn't just about power; it was a calculated strike to pulp skulls and sever spinal cords. This wasn't the quipping hero from the Daily Bugle front page. This was something darker, a necessary evil clad in webbing. He used the environment as his weapon, webbing a fire escape and swinging it like a colossal bat to clear a city block. The gore was unimaginable, a slick, black mess covering his suit. He felt a cold dread with every close call, the gnashing teeth inches from his neck, but his reflexes were faster, his resolve absolute. There was no cure, no miracle. Only survival. Only the grim, relentless work of ensuring that not a single one of these things remained walking. He fought until his muscles screamed and his web-fluid ran low, a lone sentinel purging his home one horrifying corpse at a time.
