[3rd Person]
The air in the room was thick, heavy with old money and an even older fear. Damon Ryder stood before the imposing mahogany desk, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond the stern, unyielding eyes of the man known only as The Rose. Three years. Three years Damon had served him, endured the missions that tested the limits of his augmented body, the 'gifts' that had turned him into Raptor. And after three years, the cold dread that tightened his chest in this man's presence was as sharp and debilitating as the day he'd first been 'recruited'.
The Rose didn't speak loudly, but his voice cut through the silence like a diamond through glass. "Ryder. You've proven… efficient."
Damon swallowed, a dry, clicking sound in his throat. "Thank you, sir."
"Reliable. Capable of handling… unique challenges." The Rose leaned forward, his gaze pinning Damon. "I have a unique challenge for you now. One that requires your full capabilities."
Damon braced himself. What fresh hell was this? A rival gang lord? A rogue experiment? "Anything, sir."
The Rose smiled then, a thin, humourless slit that sent a tremor down Damon's spine. "The Spider-Man."
Damon's carefully constructed composure flickered. He fought to keep his expression neutral, but inside, a different kind of dread began to bloom – cold, certain, absolute. "Sir?"
"Spider-Man," The Rose repeated, savouring the name. "We have a little bit of history. You see around six months ago he managed to defeat and arrest Deliah, an employee and dear friend who we had to eliminate afterwards. He's becoming a bit of a symbol. A symbol that needs to be removed."
Damon felt a hollowness open in his gut. Kill Spider-Man? An official Avenger. Knowing his own enhanced speed, strength, and agility were impressive, but nowhere near that of Spider-Man. His healing factor was incredible, true, but immortality didn't mean invincibility.
"Sir… Spider-Man is… difficult." Damon's voice was carefully measured, attempting a polite impossibility where sheer refusal was suicide.
The Rose's eyes narrowed, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. "Difficult is not the word I use, Ryder. Impossible is not a word you use. You are Raptor. You were built for the impossible."
He knew the look in The Rose's eyes. It wasn't a request. It wasn't even really an order that expected success. It was a test. A threat. A reminder of who was in control, and what happened to those who hesitated or failed. The fear, sharp and cold, spiked. Failing Spider-Man meant potential death. Failing The Rose meant guaranteed, drawn-out, agonizing non-existence.
"I understand, sir," Damon said, the words tasting like ash. "The Spider-Man. Dead."
The Rose leaned back, the chilling smile returning. "Precisely. Consider this your priority. All resources you require are available." He paused, then added, a silken threat coating his tone, "And Ryder? Do try not to disappoint me."
"Yes, sir."
Damon left the office, the impossible weight of the order pressing down on him. Kill Spider-Man. It was a death sentence, whether he succeeded or failed. But failing Spider-Man offered at least a slim chance of survival; failing The Rose offered none. He had to try. He had to make it look convincing.
Planning for Spider-Man was less about tactics and more about choosing a location where Raptor might stand a chance, however minuscule. Rooftops were Spider-Man's domain. Streets were too open. Construction sites, however, offered a chaotic playground of steel, concrete, and precarious heights. Plenty of cover, plenty of obstacles, plenty of things to throw. He chose a massive development project mid-Manhattan, a skeletal framework of future towers against the twilight sky.
Raptor waited. Patience was a virtue ingrained by necessity. He perched high on a crane arm. Enhanced vision scanned the surrounding skyline, looking for that tell-tale swing, that splash of red and blue.
Hours crawled by. The city lights bloomed below. And then, a flicker of movement, far off, a familiar arc against the darkening purple sky. Spider-Man. He was heading vaguely in this direction.
Raptor dropped silently from the crane, landing cat-like on a concrete beam. He moved through the unfinished structure, a silent phantom, positioning himself near where he calculated Spider-Man might swing through a gap or perch briefly. Adrenaline surged, sharp and cold, pushing back the fear for now, replacing it with focused predatory intent. He wasn't just Damon Ryder, the terrified subordinate. In the hunt, he was Raptor.
Spider-Man arrived with his usual flair, a blur of motion that landed lightly on a steel girder, silhouetted against the city glow. He paused, and even from here, Raptor could practically sense the moment the Spider-Sense flared. Raptor didn't hesitate. He launched himself from cover, a grey streak propelled by augmented muscle.
His initial attack was a brutal, high-speed charge, aimed to overwhelm. He slammed into Spider-Man with the force of a small car.
Spider-Man, fast as lightning, twisted away, the impact jarring but not connecting squarely. He tumbled, landing awkwardly on a platform below, but was instantly back on his feet.
"Whoa there, Speedy Gonzales!" Spider-Man quipped, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bit aggressive for a Tuesday, isn't it? Did someone sleep on the wrong side of the...tail?"
Raptor didn't reply. He lunged again, a series of blurring strikes – kicks, punches, swipes designed to break and disable. His blows were inhumanly fast, landing with bone-jarring force against the girders Spider-Man dodged behind.
"Okay, definite tail issue," Spider-Man muttered, dodging a punch that would have gone through solid concrete. He shot a web line, swinging around a support column to gain distance. "And pointy elbows! Seriously, man, personal space!"
Raptor pursued relentlessly. His enhanced stamina meant he wouldn't tire. His agility matched Spider-Man's in this confined space, letting him leap across gaps, scurry up vertical beams with ease. He closed the distance, aiming a powerful roundhouse kick towards his face.
Spider-Man vaulted over it, shooting a web glob at Raptor's face. Raptor reacted instantly, bringing a forearm up to block, the sticky webbing splattering uselessly against his suit, already beginning to dissolve slightly under some unseen property.
"Hey! That's rude!" Spider-Man yelped. "Face is off-limits! It's valuable real estate, you know? Prime joking territory!"
Raptor landed a solid punch to Spider-Man's side. The hero grunted, staggering back, but didn't go down. Raptor saw a ripple under the suit where the blow landed, a brief deformation that snapped back instantly. Even Spider-Man's costume had to be tough.
"Okay, definitely got some oomph there," Spider-Man said, rubbing his side slightly but already moving, dodging another flurry of blows. "Little tip, though, power without precision is just… well, it's just powerful flailing. Like a toddler with a sledgehammer. A very fast, very angry toddler."
Raptor snarled internally. The jokes. Always the jokes. They grated on his nerves, a stark contrast to the life-and-death seriousness of his existence, the constant, grinding fear. He lashed out with frustrated energy, putting even more power into his strikes.
Spider-Man was forced onto the defensive again, using his speed and webs to evade. He zipped beneath a swinging beam Raptor kicked down, swung over a chasm Raptor tried to force him into.
"Woo! Parkour!" Spider-Man shouted as he flipped over a stack of pipes. "You should try it! Great for the core! Less… trying to rearrange my internal organs."
Raptor saw an opening. Spider-Man paused for a split second to attach a web line. Raptor surged forward, a blur of grey, tackling him low.
They crashed onto a lower level platform, rolling across rebar and concrete dust. Raptor was on top in an instant, grappling, his immense strength straining against Spider-Man's surprisingly effective resistance.
"Okay, hug attack!" Spider-Man wheezed, trying to twist free. "Little close for comfort, pal! Smell my breath much?"
Raptor ignored him, trying to pin his limbs, to find a weakness. He felt a sharp snap in his forearm as Spider-Man twisted violently. It hurt, a searing pain, but even as Spider-Man scrambled away, Raptor's enhanced healing was already knitting the bone back together. The pain ebbed, fading to a dull ache, then nothing, the limb fully functional again in seconds.
Spider-Man paused, watching the rapid healing with visible surprise through his mask lenses. "Whoa. Okay, that's new. And unsettling. Are you like, part lizard? Or just really, really good at popping ibuprofen?"
Raptor pressed his advantage while he had the element of surprise regarding his abilities. He launched himself at Spider-Man again, faster, stronger now that his forearm was healed.
They fought through the skeletal building, a whirlwind of impacts, near misses, and web-slinging acrobatics from Spider-Man. Raptor brought down girders, tore through rebar, used his brute strength to alter the environment, trying to trap the faster hero. Spider-Man countered by turning Raptor's destruction into obstacles for him, swinging through the chaos, using webs to yank supports or ensnare Raptor's limbs momentarily.
"Seriously, man, property damage!" Spider-Man yelled as Raptor ripped a conduit box off a wall. "You wreck it, you buy it! Or web it, in my case. Less commitment."
Raptor felt a frustration build. His hits landed, hard, sending vibrations through Spider-Man's body, but the hero kept getting up, kept moving, kept joking. His healing was keeping him in the fight, but Spider-Man was adapting, learning his speed, predicting his movements.
I have to end this. The fear of The Rose, momentarily forgotten in the heat of combat, resurfaced. He was failing. He needed more. He needed… the jaws.
With a mental command, a biological switch flipped inside him. His facial structure began to shift, subtle at first, then rapidly, horrifyingly. Muscles in his jawline bulged, elongating. His teeth sharpened, lengthening into dagger-like points, retracting back into his gums until needed, leaving only enlarged, unsettling canine teeth visible in a near-snarl. It was a painful, visceral transformation, one he instinctively recoiled from.
Spider-Man, mid-swing, saw the change. He paused, hovering on a web line metres away. "Okay, now we're getting weird. Did your face just… do that? Like, spontaneously upgrade? Is that a feature or a bug? 'Cause I'm leaning bug. Definitely bug."