The all-out brawl had almost completely wrecked the house.
Inside and out.
And Aunt May felt every bit of it.
After marrying Ben, she had moved into this house with him. Later, they had raised Peter here. The three of them had spent countless happy days under this roof, so seeing it destroyed like this naturally made her furious.
Aunt May had not listened when middle-aged Peter told her to head upstairs. In fact, this version of Aunt May was a little different from the ones in other universes.
When she got rough, she got rough for real.
She might have been an ordinary woman, but if she did not want her Spider-Man nephew worrying about her, then she had to arm herself too.
Holding a futuristic baseball bat in each hand, Aunt May's eyes turned sharp as she glared at Scorpion, who had just slammed into the wall hard enough to leave a web of cracks.
"I already told you, and you still wouldn't listen! You trashed my house like this! That's unforgivable! Hit him! Hit him till he drops!"
For a second, Peter had the bizarre feeling that the woman in front of him was not Aunt May at all, but some legendary gang boss out of a crime movie.
Honestly, the table-flip earlier had already stunned him enough.
"Then I'll kill you first, old woman!"
Scorpion's hoarse voice rang out as he launched himself forward, aiming his metal stinger at Aunt May.
"Picking on an elder isn't a good look, you know. Want some delicious oatmeal? Oink."
"What?!"
Scorpion froze for a split second at the strange pig-like sound. By the time he reacted, a bowl of thick oatmeal and milk had smashed right into his face.
The one who had thrown it was Porker, swinging in on a web. He followed it up with a hard kick that sent Scorpion stumbling.
Aunt May seized the opening instantly, cranking both futuristic baseball bats up to full power before swinging them straight at Scorpion's bald head.
Bang!
The collision between the high-tech bats and Scorpion's reinforced skull rang out like a hammer striking a bell.
Violent current surged through Scorpion's body, launching him backward. He slammed into the floor hard enough to leave a crater.
"Aunt May! That was sick!"
Peter Porker gave her a big thumbs-up. If that hit had landed on him, he would not have walked it off either. Those bats were definitely no ordinary weapons.
"Don't just stand there. Keep hitting him!"
And really, who was Aunt May?
She was the woman who had silently supported her nephew Peter Parker through more than ten years of being Spider-Man, watching him clash with villains again and again. A modern iron-willed aunt if there ever was one.
If she had not kept some gear around for unwelcome guests, that would have been the strange part.
"Roger that! Piggy's coming!"
Meanwhile, once middle-aged Peter settled back into the fight, he was once again handling Olivia with ease, all while unleashing his passive ability of nonstop trash talk.
"Seriously, your figure really isn't that great. Do you just never exercise?"
"I bet that's it, Liv. Hiding in a lab all day, no interest in dressing up, zero social life, total shut-in vibe. Let me guess, no boyfriend either?"
"You should really try yoga sometime. It's great for your figure. Sure, you're not exactly stunning, but you're still a woman. You should at least care a little about looking good."
"Wow, Liv, that move was impressive. But honestly, you don't look like an angry little kitten. You look more like an embarrassed leopard. One that's eaten itself round."
"Sorry, I know that's harsh, but I'm speaking from the heart. I hope you can take it constructively."
Middle-aged Peter bounced around the room with effortless agility, constantly provoking Olivia with one outrageous line after another and keeping all her attention focused on him.
His nonstop verbal harassment made Olivia's face grow darker and darker.
She said nothing, but the attacks from her tentacles became sharper, heavier, and far more vicious.
Anything they struck was destroyed instantly.
"Hey, that vase was expensive! Twenty-five bucks!"
"That picture frame cost two!"
"The couch... okay, I never liked that couch anyway."
"Seriously, can you tell me how you control those tentacles so smoothly? The Doctor Octopus in my world was a guy, and he used a chip to control his arms. Is that what you use too? Or is it brainwave based?"
Despite how relaxed he sounded, middle-aged Peter's stamina was clearly nowhere near what it used to be.
The biggest reason was his gut.
After splitting up with Mary Jane, he had sunk into a long depressive stretch, overeating and barely exercising. His physical condition had dropped noticeably, and his movements were not nearly as sharp as before.
That kept putting him in danger.
Fortunately, his battle experience was on another level.
He had been Spider-Man for nineteen years.
He had seen everything.
Compared to the countless enemies he had faced in his life, Olivia was not all that special. The main issue was just that he had gotten out of shape. He really needed to lose weight when this was over.
The truth was, middle-aged Peter did not have much desire to seriously hurt Olivia.
Not because he was attracted to her or anything. She was not especially pretty, her figure was not much to brag about, and aside from a decent voice, there was nothing about her that appealed to him unless he had gone blind.
"You called me a chatterbox, but your trash talk is even worse than mine. Quit fooling around and finish this. Didn't Aunt May say to beat them into the ground?"
After punting Tombstone out of the house again and leaving him to Spider-Noir, Peter followed up by punching the Prowler just as he was about to attack Miles, then called over to middle-aged Peter.
"Spider-Man doesn't kill... mmph!"
Before he could finish, one of Olivia's nasty tentacles clamped over his mouth. The rotten-seafood stench nearly made him throw up. Luckily, the mask blocked most of it, or he probably would have passed out on the spot.
"Ugh!"
"Alright, fine! You're right!"
Middle-aged Peter tore himself free, gasping for breath as he peeled the slime off his mask. Then he finally got serious too.
"Kid, if you really want to be Spider-Man, then your attacks need to be fast, accurate, and hard. Like this!"
Peter clenched his hand into a fist, put his full weight behind it, and drove it forward. The blow carried a thirty percent crit boost and slammed into the Prowler's stomach, punching him clean through the wall.
"That's my uncle! You hit him way too hard!"
Miles stared at the human-shaped hole in the wall and swallowed nervously, clearly unhappy.
"He's not my uncle, so why would that matter to me?"
Before Peter could finish, Scorpion's stinger slammed into his back.
Peter jumped from the pain.
The strike had not pierced the absurdly durable Black Suit, but it had absolutely hit right where his old wound was. Otherwise, it would not have hurt that much.
Peter tilted his head and looked at Scorpion.
The bald creep did not just look sleazy, he fought dirty too. Realizing he could not beat Spider-Gwen and Peni, and that even Aunt May and Porker together were too much for him, he had gone after the one he thought was isolated.
Unfortunately for him, he had picked the wrong target.
Peter would never claim he was the strongest person in the room.
But he would absolutely claim he was the most ruthless.
Because he really would kill.
He rolled his shoulders once, and the claws on the Black Suit seemed to extend even farther. Their tearing and destructive power increased sharply.
Wearing the Black Suit was already affecting his emotions, and seeing Scorpion jump him from behind, then try to go after Aunt May earlier, made murderous intent surge through him. Dark energy seemed to gather around his entire body.
A cold smile appeared on Peter's face as he looked at the bald man with the scorpion tail.
"Your stinger doesn't seem nearly as sharp as my claws. Don't worry. This fight will be over soon."
"I'm going to rip your throat open with these claws and watch your blood and oil spray out right in front of you."
"This is what happens when you make the Dead Spider angry."
(End of Chapter)
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