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Spider-Man Mayham (AU) Chapter 322: Kraven’s War (4)
🕑 Added 2025-06-23 14:50:10 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
Felicia leapt gracefully from the edge of the towering skyscraper, her body twisting midair before landing on all fours. Without hesitation, she began sprinting down the glass façade of the building, her sharp claws tapping rhythmically against the panels. The speed at which she moved made her appear as nothing more than a silver-and-black blur, barely visible to the naked eye. A wide, feral grin stretched across her face—predatory, excited.
As she neared the lower floors, Felicia coiled her legs beneath her, muscles bunching like springs, before she launched herself off the building with a powerful leap. Below her, Kraven’s convoy was tearing down the street, a chaotic mix of roaring engines, armored vehicles, and heavily armed men. At the very front of the charge, standing proudly atop a buggy, was Kraven the Hunter himself.
He sensed her presence immediately.
With a low growl and eyes narrowing like a stalking panther, Kraven sprang into action. He jumped from the top of his vehicle, launching high into the air to intercept her. Their paths collided in midair, and both let out a guttural, beastly roar that echoed across the skyline. They spun together, locked in a violent, chaotic tangle of limbs, teeth, and claws.
The pair slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force, cracking the pavement beneath them. With identical feline reflexes, they broke apart simultaneously, flipping backward and landing in mirrored crouches several feet apart. Felicia skidded across the road, her razor-sharp claws carving deep gouges into the asphalt as she dug in to slow herself. Kraven, on the other hand, slid with his heels dug into the street, one arm dragging his massive curved dagger across the surface to stabilize himself.
Kraven straightened slowly, his imposing figure towering above the scattered headlights and chaos of his entourage. Weapons of all kinds—knives, spears, explosives—hung from his belt and bandoliers, clinking as he moved. With a predatory smirk, he reached behind his back and retrieved a matching dagger with his ring-clad hand.
“Well, well,” Kraven said, his voice deep and growling, filled with amused anticipation. “I was expecting the main spider tonight. Instead, I find one of his mates dancing in my path.”
Felicia tilted her head, her smirk unwavering. “Disappointed?” she asked coyly, flexing her claws.
Kraven chuckled darkly. “I won’t lie. I had hoped to start with the main course. But I suppose it's proper etiquette to start with the appetizer first.”
Suddenly, crystalline shards erupted from the ground beneath Felicia’s feet, her aura flaring like a blaze. The street around her shimmered with light, the shards reflecting distorted images of her sleek figure as it expanded out trapping everyone in the mirror dimension.
Kraven narrowed his eyes, scanning his surroundings warily. He snapped his head around to check on his men, confirming they were still in position and closing in.
Felicia’s eyes gleamed as she replied with a sharp grin, “Sorry, but the only one allowed to call me a snack and talk about eating me is my man—and you’re definitely not him.”
With that, she dashed forward, the crystal aura flaring behind her. Kraven let out a challenging roar and charged to meet her. His men leapt from their vehicles, surrounding the area with an arsenal of weapons—some wielding high-powered rifles, others gripping advanced cold weapons and electrified spears.
Felicia slashed first, aiming for Kraven’s face with blinding speed, but he expertly caught her strike by wedging his dagger between her claws. With a swift twist of his body, he flipped her over his shoulder. Yet Felicia twisted midair, landing cleanly on her feet, and immediately retaliated with a vicious kick aimed at his chest.
Kraven crossed his daggers just in time to block the blow, but the force sent him hurtling backward. He skidded across the pavement, dust and debris flying up around him. When he finally came to a stop, he stared at his trembling hands, a flicker of excitement crossing his hardened features.
Behind Felicia, one of Kraven’s soldiers aimed a shoulder-mounted net cannon and fired. The weapon unleashed its net with a thunderous blast, and it struck Felicia squarely. The weighted net wrapped tightly around her, pinning her arms and legs in a sudden snare.
“What? That’s… strange. Why didn’t I sense that—” Felicia hissed through clenched teeth, but her words were cut off as powerful volts of electricity surged through the net. Her body arched with pain, her muscles locking up momentarily.
Snarling in fury, she slashed at the net with her claws, tearing it into glimmering strings. She seized the shredded cords and yanked with immense force. The soldier on the other end was violently dragged forward, his feet skidding helplessly along the ground. He flew through the air, screaming, until Felicia intercepted him with a brutal clothesline of her arm. The man flipped midair and crashed into the pavement, instantly unconscious.
More of Kraven’s men moved in, forming a loose perimeter around her, weapons raised and ready. Their formation was tight, but not perfect—there was a small opening just large enough for Kraven to step through. He walked with measured steps, his intense eyes locked on Felicia, a feral glint of satisfaction in his expression.
Felicia stood still, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her breaths. Her eyes flicked around the group, narrowing in suspicion. Her stance remained tense, every muscle coiled like a spring.
‘Okay,’ she thought, ‘either these guys are so weak they’re not even triggering my Spider-Sense… or they’ve got something that’s messing with it.’
…
Bruce sat quietly in his dimly lit hotel room, the muffled hum of city traffic seeping through the window. He stared down at his phone, brows furrowed with worry as he read the message that had just come through:
"We need to talk. Meet me in the car." — Betty
He exhaled slowly through his nose, thumb hovering over the screen as he read it again. ‘She’s been so distant lately… Is the pressure of spying on her father finally getting to her?’ he wondered silently. He shook his head and muttered aloud, “That sentence has never led to a pleasant conversation.”
With a low grumble, Bruce pushed himself off the stiff mattress and moved toward the door. As he passed by the mirror on the wall, he paused briefly. The reflection staring back wasn’t quite his own—it was the face of his disguise, one he wore regularly to keep himself hidden from the world.
He sighed again and grabbed his jacket, heading out the door.
The air outside was thick with humidity and the distant aroma of fast food. Bruce walked around the corner of the hotel and spotted a black sedan idling along the curb. Tinted windows. Unmarked plates. It was Betty's style when she didn’t want to be seen.
‘I feel like an escort,’ Bruce thought to himself with a faint wary grin as he approached the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Betty—” he began cautiously, closing the door behind him.
Before he could say another word, there was a sudden click—the sound of the car doors locking.
“Betty?” he repeated, more uncertain now.
She didn’t respond with words. Instead, Betty threw herself across the seat and onto his lap, straddling him with graceful urgency.
“Whoa, Betty! What are—mmph—what are you doing?” Bruce stammered, caught off guard as she began to kiss him with fiery passion, her lips pressing against his with practiced need.
“Less talking, more tongue,” she whispered against his mouth, her tone sultry and breathy. Her hands slid around the back of his neck, drawing him deeper into the moment.
“Huh?” Bruce mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as he instinctively relaxed beneath her. The warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her perfume—he melted into the moment. For a heartbeat, everything else ceased to matter.
“I thought… you needed to talk?” he asked, dazed.
Betty hovered above his lips, panting lightly. Her hand guided his to the curve of her waist, then further down. “We are talking,” she breathed, “just not with words.”
She kissed him again, more fiercely this time, whispering between each kiss, “Can you guess what my body is saying to yours?”
Bruce, overwhelmed, could barely find his voice. “What…?”
“That it missed you,” she murmured, her lips grazing his jaw, “Missed your touch… missed your taste.”
The hunger between them intensified, lips meeting like magnets, breath stolen and returned in waves. But behind the intimacy, something changed.
As Bruce kissed her neck, Betty’s face slowly shifted—from passionate to blank. Her eyes lost all warmth, all desire, until they resembled those of a ghost. Without hesitation, she reached toward the center console between their seats, her fingers moving with chilling precision.
She lifted the compartment and quietly retrieved a syringe. Her other hand slid behind Bruce’s neck, cradling him, keeping him close. As she let out a practiced moan, she slipped the syringe into view.
Bruce’s eyes were still shut, lost in her kisses. Hers, wide open—calculating.
Then—a sharp jab.
The syringe plunged into Bruce’s neck. His eyes flew open in shock.
“Wh—what…?” he croaked, instinctively grabbing at his neck. The metallic tang of betrayal hit him faster than the serum taking hold. He looked up, confused, his breath uneven.
Betty slowly pulled back, her body still close but her expression utterly cold. She stared at him with a detached calm as she spoke:
“Sorry, Bruce. The Leader demands an audience… and he’s not someone you can refuse.”
Bruce’s muscles began to fail him. His limbs grew heavy, eyes starting to roll back as the drug overwhelmed his system. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision. But through the haze, something broke in Betty’s face—a flicker of emotion. Her eyes shimmered, not with lust or anger, but with guilt and a silent plea for help.
“Why…?” Bruce whispered weakly, his voice barely audible. That was all he could manage before the sedative fully claimed him.
His body slumped limply into the seat. His head tilted to the side, the syringe still embedded in his neck.
Betty sat still for a moment, staring at him. Her hand went to her lips, wiping them clean of the heat they'd shared. Then she smoothed out her wrinkled blouse, straightened her jacket, and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Without another word, she started the engine.
The car pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the city streets.
