The moon hung low over the New York skyline as Ben Parker, clad in his makeshift Spider-Man suit, paced back and forth in Johnny's apartment. His mind raced with plans, counterplans, and the memory of his first encounter with the vampire. Across the room, Johnny Storm leaned on the kitchen counter, tapping a pencil against a notepad.
"So," Johnny began, "sunlight's out because, well… night. How exactly are we supposed to kill this guy?"
Ben stopped and turned to his friend. "I don't know yet. But what I do know is that I can't let him hurt anyone else. This ends tonight."
Before Johnny could respond, the police scanner crackled to life. A frantic voice reported a break-in at New York General Hospital. Ben's eyes widened, and without a word, he grabbed his mask and pulled it over his head. Johnny gave him a quick nod as Ben stepped onto the windowsill.
"Don't get yourself killed, Bug Boy," Johnny called.
"Not planning on it," Ben replied before leaping into the night.
Ben swung through the city with purpose, his mind focused on the hospital. The neon lights of New York blurred beneath him, the air cold against his skin as he flipped and landed on the hospital's roof. He quickly found an open window and slipped inside, his senses on high alert.
The air was thick with tension. Shadows stretched unnaturally down the hallways, and an eerie silence enveloped the building. Ben's instincts screamed at him—he wasn't alone.
"Vampire Dude.," Ben called, his voice echoing. "You know, breaking into a hospital is cliché even for a vampire. Couldn't you have picked something more original? Maybe a library or a bakery?"
A low growl rumbled from the darkness. Ben turned sharply, his muscles tensed, as the vampire stepped into the dim light. His skin was pale and gaunt, his crimson eyes glowing with malice.
"My name," the vampire hissed, his voice guttural, "is Morbius."
"Right, sorry," Ben quipped. "Should've asked for a business card."
Without warning, Morbius lunged. Ben barely had time to leap into the air, narrowly avoiding the vampire's claws.
Ben fired a webline to the ceiling and swung around the hallway as Morbius chased him, leaping with inhuman speed and agility. Ben flipped mid-air and shot a web at Morbius's face, but the vampire shredded it with ease, his claws tearing through the sticky substance.
"Gotta admit," Ben said, landing on a wall, "you're a lot faster than the usual muggers I deal with."
Morbius roared and charged again, this time swiping at the wall. The force of his strike sent chunks of plaster flying, and Ben barely avoided being crushed. He retaliated by shooting a web to the floor and yanking a hospital gurney into Morbius's path. The vampire collided with it, but the impact barely slowed him down.
Ben's quips kept coming, though his voice betrayed his mounting fear. "So, what's the deal? Bitten by a radioactive bat? Fell into a vat of garlic sauce?"
Morbius snarled and leaped, tackling Ben mid-air. They crashed through a set of double doors into an operating room, the equipment clattering around them. Ben struggled under Morbius's weight, his enhanced strength barely holding the vampire at bay. Morbius snapped his fangs, inches from Ben's neck.
Thinking quickly, Ben fired a web into Morbius's eyes, temporarily blinding him. He shoved the vampire off and scrambled to his feet, grabbing a metal IV pole. He swung it like a bat, striking Morbius across the head. The vampire stumbled but quickly recovered, swiping the pole in half with his claws.
"Okay," Ben muttered, backing up, "not my best plan."
Morbius lunged again, and Ben fired a webline to the ceiling, swinging out of reach. He circled the room, shooting webbing to pin the vampire down, but Morbius ripped through it effortlessly.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Ben said, his breath coming in short gasps. "But seriously, you need a hobby."
Morbius's response was a guttural growl as he leaped onto the wall and began scaling it with terrifying speed. Ben tried to keep his distance, using his agility to stay one step ahead. He flipped over an overturned cart, kicked off a wall, and launched himself back toward Morbius, landing a solid kick to the vampire's chest.
Morbius staggered but recovered instantly, grabbing Ben mid-air and slamming him into the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he groaned in pain as Morbius loomed over him.
"This is the end for you, Spider-Man," Morbius growled, his claws raised.
As Morbius's claws descended, Ben grabbed a broken piece of wood from the ground and jabbed it into the vampire's chest. Morbius screamed in pain but didn't fall. Instead, he roared and threw Ben across the room, sending him crashing into a cabinet.
Ben struggled to his feet, his body aching. "Okay, note to self: stakes only work in movies."
Morbius advanced, his claws gleaming under the flickering fluorescent lights. Ben fired another webline, pulling himself onto a nearby shelf. He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol, hurled it at Morbius, and followed it up with a blowtorch he found. The alcohol ignited, flames engulfing the vampire for a brief moment.
Morbius howled in rage, the fire scorching his skin but not stopping him. He leaped into the air, grabbing Ben and slamming him into the ceiling before throwing him to the floor. Ben groaned, his vision swimming.
As Morbius loomed over him, ready to deliver the final blow, a gunshot echoed through the room. Morbius's head snapped back, blood spraying the walls as he collapsed to the ground. Ben gasped for air and turned to see a figure standing in the doorway.
The man was older, grizzled, and wore a black vest emblazoned with a skull. He lowered his smoking shotgun and stepped forward, his boots crunching on the broken glass.
"Need a hand, kid?" the man asked, his voice gravelly.
Ben took the offered hand, letting the man pull him to his feet. He stared at the stranger, still catching his breath.
"Who… who are you?" Ben asked.
The man smirked and slung the shotgun over his shoulder. "Name's Frank. People call me the Punisher. Ask Matt about me."
Before Ben could say anything, the Punisher turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. Ben stared after him, his mind racing.
"Punisher?" Ben muttered. "Sounds like a bad '80s rock band."
He didn't have time to dwell on it. The sound of approaching sirens snapped him back to reality. He fired a webline to the ceiling and swung out of the hospital just as the police arrived.
Meanwhile, in Another Part of the City
Across town, in a lavish penthouse office, Wilson Fisk—the Kingpin of Crime—sat behind a massive desk. The room was dimly lit, the New York skyline twinkling behind him. A knock at the door broke the silence.
"Come in," Fisk said, his deep voice resonating through the room.
A man in a sharp suit entered, carrying a folder. He placed it on the desk and stepped back.
"Boss," the man said, "Norman says Project Scorpion is ready."
Fisk opened the folder, his massive hands flipping through the pages. A sinister smile spread across his face as he read.
"Excellent," Fisk said. "The end of Spider-Man is near."
The man nodded and left the room, leaving Fisk alone. The Kingpin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he gazed out the window.
"Soon," he muttered, "very soon."