Location: Unknown
Time: 0200 Hours
The hum of fusion energy cores vibrated through the reinforced alloy walls of the clandestine base. Blood-red light from diagnostic screens danced across Otto Octavius's glasses as he moved with calculated precision. The air was sterile, cold, and heavy with tension.
Suspended in a cruciform frame of dark nanosteel, the form once known as Black Spider hung silent—until the last of the nanites receded like mercury into subdermal storage nodes.
What remained was not a man.
Spider-Wraith had been born in the hushed agony of surgical transformation.
Veins laced with polymorphic conductive alloy.
Nerve endings rewritten with pain-suppression code.
Muscle tissue grafted with synthetic myomer fibers, tensile strength exceeding steel.
Retinas augmented with quantum-array optics—adaptive infrared, lidar, sonar, spectral overlays.
And deeper still, embedded in his brainstem, the Oblivion Threaded AI — an invisible leash tethering his will to the cold, hyper-logical directive of Superior Spider-Man.
Otto adjusted the cortical resonance modulator, eyes gleaming beneath the lenses.
"Designation?" he asked without emotion.
The figure blinked slowly, then replied in a voice that was both mechanical and predatory:
"Spider-Wraith."
Otto allowed himself a brief smile. "Good. And do you remember who you were?"
Spider-Wraith tilted his head slightly.
"Irrelevant."
"Excellent." Otto turned toward the tactical holotable, already displaying a rotating 3D model of their next objective.
Infinity Island.Latitude: Redacted.Topography: Mountainous jungle cloaked in thick mist.Defensive Systems: Cloaked drone patrols, bio-thermal trip mines, seismic-responsive traps.Estimated enemy strength: 150 elite assassins, 1 heir.
But none of that mattered.
Because the League of Shadows didn't know who was coming.
"They raised you to be a ghost, a weapon," Otto said, addressing Spider-Wraith. "Disposable. Hollow. Bound by Ra's al Ghul's doctrine."
Wraith stood motionless, eyes flickering with internal calibration cycles.
"But now," Otto continued, voice hardening, "you are something far more terrifying. Liberated from ideology. Freed from morality. A precision instrument of absolute extermination."
He typed a command.
The hologram zoomed in on the central citadel—a monolithic fortress surrounded by geothermal trenches.
"They think themselves immortal. Hidden. But even the oldest shadows fear what stirs in the deeper dark."
Otto turned his gaze to the far wall. "ELEMENTIA."
A soft chime answered him. From the wall-mounted station, a hard-light avatar flickered into view: Anna Marie, the synthetic intelligence inhabiting the ELEMENTIA Android—a fusion of science and elemental resonance. Her face, calm and efficient, glowed faintly blue.
"Standing by, Otto."
"Initiate Infiltration Protocol: SILENCER. Deploy operative Spider-Wraith with strike units Cheshire, Hook, and Copperhead—former elites of the League of Shadows, now reconditioned and aligned to my command."
Otto Octavius's voice cut through the sterile air of the control chamber like a scalpel. His mechanical arms retracted with a hiss as he stepped toward the tactical display, the island fortress spinning slowly in holographic rotation—Infinity Island, the ancient heart of the League's operations.
"Drop them from high-altitude stealth pods at 0300 hours," he continued, eyes gleaming behind his lenses. "Full blackout insertion—no heat signatures, no radar return, no trace. Each strike unit will be accompanied by a trio of recon drones—armed with localized EMP generators, neurosynaptic pulse disruptors, and cloaked retrieval mechanisms."
Across the room, the synthetic voice of Anna Marie—ELEMENTIA's AI interface—responded with cool efficiency.
"Confirmed. Estimated operation duration: 59 minutes. Projected outer perimeter neutralization: 6 minutes, 48 seconds."
Otto nodded once, then added, his tone dropping into something far colder:
"Adjust directives. All combatants within the facility are to be neutralized and spared for surgical evaluation. However… Ra's al Ghul and all individuals linked to his bloodline are to be exterminated. No survivors. No legacy. No resurrection."
"Understood. Amending protocols. Updating kill-chain parameters now."
A moment of silence followed, heavy with purpose.
Otto turned to Spider-Wraith, whose red ocular implants shimmered with anticipation under the overhead lights. This was no longer an assassin. No longer a man.
This was a weapon, re-forged in Otto's image.
"You are not just their executioner," Otto said, voice sharp as tempered steel. "You are the message. A warning written in silence and shadow."
He raised a hand and pointed at the holographic citadel—fortified, ancient, and unaware of the nightmare descending from the skies.
"Send it."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Superior Spider-Man stood before the master interface, his mind racing in a synchronized storm of tactical data streams, predictive models, and global surveillance grids.
He moved with mechanical precision, voice low and resolute as he began dictating the next phase of his campaign.
"The League of Shadows must be eliminated preemptively," he said aloud, fingers dancing across the console. "Their infiltration techniques, combined with their historical affinity for exploiting metahumans, make them a critical threat to the Justice Academy Network. If we leave them unchecked, they'll worm their way into our foundations before we fully stabilize."
He didn't need to justify it further. Prevention was supremacy.
"Anna," Otto said, straightening. "Have your intelligence subroutines identified any other organizations that may pose a high-risk threat profile?"
A brief flicker of static. Then Anna Marie's synthetic voice responded, calm and calculated over the comms:
"Affirmative, Otto. Cross-referencing League intelligence caches with Gotham's black-market data streams revealed consistent patterns of manipulation—political, financial, and criminal—traced to a singular clandestine group."
The screen shifted, casting the room in a dim hue of blue and gold.
"The Court of Owls."
Otto's eyes narrowed behind his lenses.
"Of course," he muttered. "The old power. The secret rot festering beneath the Gotham skyline."
Anna continued:
"Surveillance indicates the Court has accelerated their recruitment post-Metropolis Event," Anna stated, her voice echoing softly through the chamber. "They are acquiring orphans, metahuman runaways, and off-grid enhanced individuals. Estimated Talon deployment capacity: forty-two active agents. Central location remains unverified—likely subterranean, beneath the Gotham financial district."
Otto's gloved hand curled into a fist, knuckles creaking against reinforced plating.
"They see the world reshaping. And like parasites, they intend to leech from its reconstruction."
He turned from the console.
"Very well," Otto said, pacing toward the central hub. "Begin psychological disruption protocols. I want whispers seeded across Gotham's underworld. Reports of phantom Talons gone rogue. Owl effigies burned and returned… dismembered. Let the Court feel hunted. Let fear erode them before I do."
Anna's holographic form flickered into full clarity now, her synthetic gaze meeting his.
"Shall I prepare a specialized unit for this operation, Doctor?"
Otto stopped, backlit by a glowing crimson circuit wall. A pause stretched across the chamber like a blade drawn taut.
"No," Otto said flatly. "I will be enough."
He turned his hand palm up—and with a flick of his fingers, the surrounding shadows coalesced, spiraling unnaturally around him like liquid ink. They moved with intention, obeying his command with eerie precision. One tendril slithered up his arm, vanishing into his spine like a whisper through bone.
"Besides," Otto murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "I've been meaning to test this newly acquired power."
Anna tilted her head, observing intently. "Oblivion Thread interfaces remain stable. Your exposure to the Shade's tethered umbrakinesis is fully synchronized."
"Good," he said coldly. "Then I'll sharpen it on the Court's bones."
With a subtle motion of his fingers, the surrounding shadows stirred—rising like smoke in reverse, coiling around him with reverent purpose.
"This time," Otto said, voice low and certain, "the predator stalks the hunters."
Anna's voice ghosted through the command deck.
"Coordinates locked. Do you require surveillance support?"
"No."
"Medical evac contingencies?"
"Denied."
"Mission duration?"
Otto turned, the teleportation chamber humming with restrained energy. Crimson light pulsed across the reinforced plating of his armor.
"As long as it takes."
And then he vanished—consumed by a silent implosion of darkness.
Only curling tendrils of shadow remained, writhing gently in the air like a whisper of the storm to come.