I. Echoes in the Dark: The Haunting of Heroes
The spirit of Uncle Ben's passing is tearing at Peter Parker's ribs when he wakes up, soaked in perspiration. The alley replays in fragments—the gun’s flash, Ben’s fall, the thief’s ordinary face twisting into a cosmic tragedy. How can one man unravel a world? Mary Jane’s touch anchors him; her warmth a lifeline against the undertow of guilt. Later, swinging through New York’s moonlit veins, he clings to May and Ben’s legacy—their kindness that spared him bitterness. But the metropolis blends into the streets of Gotham, which are soaked by rain. With pearls flying everywhere and bullets reverberating, Bruce Wayne is eight once more. Thomas’ cry. Martha’s stillness. The question festers: Why am I always too late? Batman awakes in Wayne Manor’s tomb-like silence, not a symbol of fear but a boy sobbing in the dark. Alfred’s unspoken concern meets an empty room. Bruce is already airborne, cape slicing through Gotham’s gloom, gratitude for Alfred warring with the unbridgeable chasm trauma carved. The gunshot sealed his fate; daylight futures of laughter are ghosts. The night owns him. He is the Batman.
II. The Monster’s Grin: Carnage Unshackled
Behind Ravencroft’s reinforced glass, Cletus Kasady grins—a predator playing patient.Stories of neglect and twisted need are spoken by the Carnage symbiote, which writhes beneath Dr. Kafka's skin like imprisoned lightning. “Born broken,” he hisses, pressing psychic knives against his cage. Kafka’s compassion fuels his mockery. His ultimatum cracks the air: “Kill me or I break free.” The symbiote answers. Glass explodes. “Blood will flow like wine!” Tendrils whip into serrated blades. Spider-Man dives into the fray, fists a blur against the crimson storm. Colonel Jameson’s microwave guns scorch the symbiote—a temporary reprieve. Kafka pleads for Kasady’s soul, but Dr. Cassandra Brier arrives with ice in her veins and a solution: a neural implant. Control, not cure. Spider-Man protests; Kafka recoils. Kasady is strapped down, wired, hollowed. Brier’s triumph is surgical, cold. “It ends tonight.”
III. Clowns & Chips: The Illusion of Control
Gotham’s rooftops tremble under the Joker’s manic jig. His masterpiece—bats tainted with madness—hovers seconds from release. Batman strikes like black lightning. “The fun’s over.” He’s ten steps ahead, the plot dismantled. Joker feigns surrender… then bites, teeth sinking into Batman’s neck. Laughter echoes as Arkham’s gates swallow him. Inside, Brier confronts the asylum’s failures with gleaming certainty. Her proof? Kasady. Pacified. Empty. The Carnage symbiote lies dormant, silenced by her chip. Kafka sees a hollowed shell, not peace. Brier sees revolution. “A new era begins.” At a press conference, spotlights blind the pacified monsters—Joker docile, Kasady vacant. Brier announces national scaling. En route to D.C., confidence radiates from her in the armored convoy. Then—rupture. Carnage explodes from Kasady. The chip was a lie; the symbiote was biding time. Steel shreds. Carnage drags a shrieking Joker into the night. Brier is a trophy in his grip. “Move, and she dies!”
IV. Crimson & Shadows: When Heroes Collide
Chaos devours the street. Carnage bathes in panic, tendrils tightening around Brier’s throat. “Release her.” Carnage leers: the Bat, fresh prey. Batman offers himself in Brier’s place. Carnage scoffs; blood needs no symbolism. A blade-tendril strikes—THWIP! Spider-Man swings Brier to safety. Gotham’s shadow and New York’s web stand united against the scarlet storm. Carnage lunges, blades whirling. “I’ll peel you apart!” Batman snarls he needs no aid; Spider-Man punches Carnage mid-taunt. The symbiote cackles, relishing their clash: Batman’s brutal precision vs. Spider-Man’s acrobatic urgency. Tendrils lash guards—choking, slashing. Joker cowers: “Don’t let them take me!” “You’re safe, clown!” Carnage roars. “He’s not!” In the gore-strewn confusion, Carnage vanishes, Joker in tow.
V. Fractured Dawn: The Cost of "Cure"
Amidst groaning wounded, Spider-Man gestures toward the carnage. “We track the symbiote’s—” Batman whirls, cowl narrowing. “Why are you in Gotham?” Spider-Man stays calm: Kafka requested backup. Batman’s voice cracks like ice. “My city. My rules. Don't get in my way. Unflinching, Spider-Man faces the glare. “People are dying. I’m helping. Like it or not.” Brier trembles nearby, her miracle now a slaughterhouse. Kafka’s eyes hold devastation—not just at the carnage, but the hollow horror of Kasady’s “cure.” The symbiote was never controlled; it weaponized suppression. At the outskirts of Gotham's skyline, dawn is bleeding. Two heroes, scarred by alleys and loss, face a shared truth: some cures shatter souls. And in the midst of the darkness, Carnage smiles while the Joker laughs next to him. The real nightmare has just begun.
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