The slums of New York's underdistrict on Earth-731 were a labyrinth of decay, where rusted shipping containers and flickering neon signs formed a jagged skyline under a perpetually gray sky. It was 2030, and Peter Parker, now calling himself Mad Spider, crouched in the shadows of a derelict textile factory, his makeshift costume clinging to his sweat-soaked body. The blood-red fabric, torn and stitched with fishing line, was more than armor—it was a declaration, a middle finger to Oscorp's decade of torment. His spider-powers thrummed in his veins: strength to crush steel, agility to dance across walls, and a regenerative factor that knitted his wounds shut in seconds. But the pain lingered, a burning echo of Oscorp's electroshock torture, pulsing in his lower body like a cruel heartbeat. Each flare brought a manic laugh to his lips, a sound that scared even him. "They thought they could break me," he muttered, his voice a mix of defiance and madness. "Guess they forgot I'm a bad joke."
Flashback: At 14, Peter hid in his uncle's garage, sketching spiders in a tattered notebook. Gwen slipped through the door, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. "You're obsessed with creepy crawlies," she teased, sitting beside him. Her smile made the bullies' taunts fade, if only for a moment. "One day, I'll be something bigger," Peter said, half-dreaming. Gwen's eyes softened. "You already are."
Now, Gwen sat across from him in the factory, her lab coat discarded for a scavenged jacket. Her blue eyes were weary but fierce, scanning the darkness for drones. She'd risked everything to free Peter from Oscorp's lab, and the weight of her choice hung heavy. "We can't stay here long," she whispered, checking a stolen Oscorp tablet. "The Blackweb Unit's tracking us." Peter's grin widened, unhinged. "Let 'em come. I'm itching for round two." But his bravado faltered as pain spiked through him, dropping him to his knees. Gwen rushed to his side, her hands steady despite her fear. "It's the shocks," she said, her voice trembling. "They targeted… sensitive nerves. To control you." Peter's laughter turned bitter. "Control me? They made a monster instead."
The torture had been systematic, designed to shatter his will. Oscorp's scientists, under Norman Osborn's orders, had used electroshocks to inflict maximum pain, targeting his body in ways that left scars deeper than flesh. The memories surged, unbidden: cold tables, mocking voices, the hum of machines. Peter's mind fractured under the weight, his thoughts spiraling into a chaotic blend of rage and dark humor. "Funny," he chuckled, wincing, "they thought I'd beg. Now I just wanna burn it all down." Gwen's touch on his arm grounded him, her warmth a lifeline. "We'll stop them, Peter. Together."
Peter worked through the pain, refining his costume with scraps of kevlar and wire, his spider-senses guiding his hands. The costume was a reflection of his madness—jagged, blood-red, with a crude spider emblem scratched into the chest. "Mad Spider," he said, testing the name. "Sounds about right." Gwen watched, her heart aching. She'd seen the boy she loved become something else, but her love hadn't wavered. A flashback flickered: at 16, she'd snuck into Oscorp's archives, learning of Peter's abduction, vowing to find him. Now, she was a fugitive too, bound to him by choice.
Their plan was forming: uncover Oscorp's secrets, expose their experiments, and destroy Norman's empire. Peter's blood held the key—nanites from the spider-serum carried data on Oscorp's superhuman project. "We need a hacker," Gwen said, tapping the tablet. "Someone who can crack this." Peter nodded, his grin sharp. "I know a place. The Neon Shadows. Outcasts like me." But as they prepared to move, his spider-senses screamed. A drone's red eye pierced the darkness outside, its hum growing louder. "Showtime," Peter whispered, webbing Gwen to his side and leaping onto the factory's ceiling.
The drone crashed through a window, followed by two more, their lasers cutting through the gloom. Mad Spider swung into action, his movements a blur of instinct and chaos. He webbed one drone, slamming it into another, laughing wildly. "You call that tech? My toaster's scarier!" But the pain flared again, slowing him. Gwen, clinging to his back, hacked the tablet mid-fight, redirecting a drone to crash. "Nice one, Gwenny!" Peter crowed, his humor masking the agony. They escaped through a skylight, landing on a rusted fire escape as more drones closed in.
Cliffhanger: Mad Spider and Gwen swing into the slums, drones in pursuit. "Neon Shadows, here we come," Peter laughs, his voice laced with madness. But a shadow moves in the distance—a Blackweb operative watching.