[Third Person Pov]
Peter stood with his hands resting casually at his waist, watching Magneto sway unsteadily where he stood. The once-pristine armor that had defined the master of magnetism lay ruined and fractured, chunks of it scattered across the floor like scrap metal. His skin was deeply bruised, his face bloodied and grotesquely swollen, each mark a testament to the relentless force behind Spider-Man's punches and close-quarters assault. Magneto panted heavily, barely able to remain upright.
Peter extended one hand, curling his middle finger back against his thumb.
"Bing!" he said aloud, mimicking the sound effect as he flicked Magneto squarely on the forehead.
The impact shattered the holographic projection instantly, Magneto's image dispersing into fragments of light before evaporating completely.
"Phew… that was a nice workout," Peter sighed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. A lazy grin tugged at his lips. "What a good warm-up."
From beyond the reinforced glass of the spectator room, Peter could practically feel the disapproving glares boring into his back. He didn't even need to look to know they were watching him with a mix of irritation and disbelief. The fact that he had dismantled one of their most dangerous villains so effortlessly clearly wasn't sitting well with them.
Peter chuckled quietly to himself, thoroughly amused.
He rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms, and twisted his torso from side to side as if he were about to start a light jog. "So," he called out casually, "Stage Four?"
"He's really good at being irritating…" Kitty muttered, her expression twisting as she folded her arms.
"Very," the rest of the Spider-Family answered in perfect unison, without a hint of hesitation.
Meanwhile, Hank was already at work. His fingers danced across the controls as the Danger Room began its next transformation. The holographic projectors lining the walls hummed louder, flooding the space with shifting light as the environment around Peter warped and reassembled itself.
Peter immediately felt the gravity increase, pressing down on his body with crushing force. The air itself seemed heavier, denser. But the pressure barely registered. Thanks to his supernatural strength, he simply rolled his neck once and shrugged it off, standing tall as if nothing had changed. His movements remained just as fluid and sharp as before.
The steel factory setting dissolved around him, replaced piece by piece with devastation. Crumbling buildings, burning storefronts, and collapsed homes filled his vision. Fires raged unchecked, smoke curling into a darkened sky as abandoned streets stretched endlessly in every direction. It was a post-apocalyptic cityscape, silent and ruined.
"Oooh, I wonder what this could be—" Peter began.
His question was answered instantly.
A red beam of light screamed through the air, piercing straight through his head and slamming into the ground in front of him. The explosion tore up the street in a violent burst of debris and flame. But when the smoke cleared, it was nothing more than an afterimage that dissipated into the wind.
Peter was no longer there.
Instead, he stood balanced effortlessly on the broad shoulders of a towering Sentinel. One hand was raised above his eyes like a visor as he scanned the horizon.
"So, did you get him?" he asked cheerfully.
The Sentinel's massive head turned, mechanical eyes narrowing as it processed the anomaly now perched on it. Peter patted the giant robot on the side of its head. "Don't worry, big guy. You were really close."
The Sentinel's eyes glowed brighter as it raised one enormous hand toward its shoulder. From the center of its palm, a yellow laser discharged, tearing through the air toward Peter at blinding speed.
Peter reacted instantly. With one clawed hand, he deflected the laser bolt aside, the beam ricocheting harmlessly into the distance. With the other, he plunged his claws straight through the Sentinel's head.
Energy erupted.
Peter let his power surge outward, channeling raw electricity and static into the machine's core. A violent storm of crackling light burst from the Sentinel's skull, arcs of energy lashing wildly in every direction. The robot staggered backward as its systems overloaded, before detonating into thousands of flaming fragments that rained across the ruined street.
Peter leapt clear just as the Sentinel collapsed, landing lightly on his feet.
Without missing a beat, he moved.
Explosions of light erupted all around him as beams tracked his movement with eerie precision, predicting his path and firing where he would be rather than where he was. Peter weaved through the chaos, twisting and accelerating, narrowly slipping past blasts that scorched the ground inches from his heels.
As he vaulted over a crumbling car, he glanced upward—and froze for half a second.
What he saw was an army.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of Sentinels were scattered throughout the city, standing atop buildings and lining the streets. Every single one had its glowing eyes locked onto him, massive hands raised and primed to fire.
'How scary~' Peter thought, a faint, almost playful smirk crossing his face.
He brought his hands together, weaving intricate hand signs with practiced ease. A radiant barrier flared into existence around him—the Shield of Seraphim. Blasts slammed into it from every direction, explosions rocking the area and hurling rubble skyward, but the shield held firm.
Within it, Peter levitated calmly, arms crossed as chaos erupted outside.
Then he moved again.
His hands flashed through another sequence, and suddenly copies of himself burst free from his body—dozens of them—each formed entirely of glowing chi.
"Let's turn this into a real party," all the Peters said in unison before launching themselves forward at super speed.
"He can clone himself too?" Bobby asked from the observation room, clearly impressed. It reminded him uncomfortably of his own ability—though his constructs were made of ice rather than energy.
"No," Gwen corrected, watching closely. "They're not really clones, per se. They're more like energy constructs shaped in his likeness—extensions of his power that he can control."
The X-Men watched in stunned silence as Peter seamlessly coordinated with the energy constructs surrounding him. He swung effortlessly through the ruined skyline, web lines snapping taut as he vaulted from crumbling buildings and shattered streetlights, while his chi-made doubles sprinted across the ground below like living comets of light.
One of the constructs was obliterated mid-stride by a powerful optic blast, exploding into sparks and vaporized energy. For a brief moment, smoke and debris filled the air—then another construct burst upward through it, completely unharmed. It landed on a Sentinel's arm, slashing viciously. Metal fingers and an entire wrist were severed in a single blur of motion. The construct raced along the Sentinel's limb, carving it apart into shredded ribbons of alloy before leaping straight for its head. One devastating punch caved the metal face inward, warping its systems beyond recovery. The Sentinel staggered once… then detonated in a violent explosion.
Above it all, Peter arced through the air, gathering crackling orbs of condensed chi in both hands. At his silent command, the glowing spheres launched forward like artillery rounds, slamming into towering mutant-hunting machines and detonating with thunderous force. Each explosion sent metal limbs, armor plating, and debris raining across the battlefield.
Mid-swing, Peter recalibrated his web-shooter with a flick of his wrist. Below him, one of his constructs tore a Sentinel's head clean from its shoulders with a brutal upward strike. Peter fired a web, catching the severed head midair.
He yanked it toward himself and immediately began swinging it around on the webline.
"Hahaha! 🎶 I came in like a wrecking ball~ 🎶" Peter sang at the top of his lungs as he whipped the massive metal head into another Sentinel. The impact shattered both machines, reducing them to rubble and sparks.
From the observation room, they could only stare as Peter laughed and sang maniacally, swinging his improvised weapon again and again until nothing remained but wreckage.
Lights flashed. Explosions thundered. Maniacal laughter echoed, punctuated by off-key singing, as the Danger Room descended into complete chaos.
"Is he okay… up here?" Rogue asked slowly, tapping her temple with a finger.
"We honestly don't know," Lizzy replied with a scoff, arms crossed as she continued watching.
"I'm pretty sure he was dropped on his head one too many times as a kid," Harry added helpfully.
Peter suddenly shifted tactics.
He dropped to the ground and began skating across the floor at blistering speed, weaving between rubble and ongoing explosions. His body became little more than a blur as he slid with near-frictionless precision. His claws extended, glowing intensely as electrified chi surged along their edges, making them sharper—and far more lethal.
The final Sentinel struggled to keep up. Its sensors whirred wildly as it tried to track Peter's impossible movements, firing erratic blasts in every direction.
Then Peter vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared directly in front of the towering machine.
He slashed downwards.
Peter landed lightly in a crouch directly in front of it.
He stood, casually dusted off his hands, and turned away. With exaggerated pep, he began to walk off, swinging his arms in wide arcs and whistling softly as if nothing had happened.
Behind him, a thin blue line glowed down the center of the Sentinel's body. The machine froze… then slowly split into two perfectly symmetrical halves, which peeled away from each other and crashed to the ground with a thunderous rumble.
"So," Peter asked cheerfully, glancing back over his shoulder as the last projections fizzled out of existence, "what's Stage Five like?"
"He iz zo cool…" Nightcrawler whispered, pressing both hands against the viewing glass, eyes shining with admiration.
Aria, meanwhile, lifted her chin and puffed out her chest proudly, as if every one of Peter's victories belonged to her as well.
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