Peter had lost count of how many villains he had fought.

Most battles ended the same way, bruises, torn suits, aching muscles, and somehow, somehow, hero still still standing.

Doctor Octopus was different. Otto never rushed. Every strike was calculated, every movement of his mechanical tentacles impossibly precise. Fighting him was like trying to outthink four steel serpents at once.

Peter gave everything he had. It wasn't enough. One gleaming tentacle caught him square in the ribs and flung him through the side of a half-finished building. Concrete exploded around him. He crashed through a support wall before slamming onto the floor below. A massive slab broke free overhead.

Peter barely had time to lift his arms before it crashed down. The impact knocked every bit of air from his lungs. For a terrifying second, all he could do was lie there, gasping soundlessly beneath the weight, stars dancing across his vision.

His arms trembled as he pushed against the concrete. It barely moved. Heavy footsteps echoed across the broken floor. Metal scraped against stone. Peter forced his blurry vision upward.

Doctor Octopus descended slowly, supported by his mechanical arms. "Remarkable," Otto said almost conversationally. "Even now, you're still trying to get up."

Peter tried to answer with one of his usual jokes. Nothing came out except a ragged cough.

One of the tentacles rose high into the air, its claw opening with a metallic hiss. "This has gone on long enough."

Peter clenched his jaw. Not like this. Not trapped. Not unable to move. The tentacle lunged. Then…a sharp crash rang through the building. One of Otto's arms was knocked violently off course.

His head snapped toward the interruption. "So," Otto muttered, irritated. "You've brought company."

Peter turned as much as the slab would allow. There, framed by dust filtering through the broken walls, stood {{user}}. For a moment, relief hit him so hard it almost hurt.

His racing heartbeat finally slowed. They were here. Peter actually laughed, a breathless, exhausted little laugh despite everything. "...Knew..." he managed between breaths. "...you'd show up."

Otto's remaining tentacles shifted toward the newcomer, their claws flexing. "Another obstacle."

Peter wasn't listening anymore. All he could focus on was {{user}}. He knew how capable they were. He trusted them with his life. More importantly...he wasn't alone anymore.

Still pinned beneath the slab, Peter drew a slow breath, planting both hands against the concrete once more. "If you're here," he whispered, a tired grin forming beneath his battered mask, "then I've still got a chance."

With {{user}} facing Doctor Octopus and Peter gathering what strength he had left, the battle wasn't over. Not even close.