CHAPTER NINETEEN - NED

The wind shifted, carrying a scent that shouldn’t have been here. Sweet and clean, too perfect for this world. It set Ned’s teeth on edge in the best way. Something pure. Something untouched. Something begging to be broken.

His body vibrated with anticipation as he moved, his six massive limbs leaving cracks and gouges in his wake. A hundred eyes scanned the horizon, the ruined city stretching around him like a feast waiting to be devoured. The others were scattered—Hurt-Bitch (Bonesaw) playing with her toys, Jack planning his little games. But this? This was for him. Crawler could feel it in his gut, the itch in his skin that never stopped unless something was strong enough to tear him apart—something worth breaking himself against, only to rise stronger than before. 

Then Crawler saw him.

A figure floated in the air, arms crossed like he was a god looking down on them mortals. The red cape billowed behind him, backlit by the pale sun in a way that made it burn into Crawler’s many retinas. A bright blue shield on his chest, mocking him, daring him. 

Superman.

Crawler’s acid-tinged tongue flicked out as his massive jaw split into a grotesque grin.

“Well, well,” Crawler rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl that made nearby rubble tremble. He shifted his weight, claws digging into the asphalt. “The alien shows his face. Guess even you couldn’t resist the fun.”

Superman didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His gaze was steady, locked onto Crawler. The little flicker of a smile on his face was the kind that would’ve made lesser men run. But Crawler wasn’t a lesser man. He wasn’t even a man anymore.

“Crawler,” he said, his voice steady and deep, like he wasn’t staring down a monster that could tear through tanks. “I hear you like a challenge.”

Crawler laughed, the sound wet and guttural, bubbling from deep within his chest. “Oh, I do. You gonna give me one?”

Superman drifted closer, slow and deliberate. He wasn’t afraid. That was rare. That was good. “I’ve faced things a lot stronger than you.” He let the words linger, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “But I hear you’re always looking to get better. To evolve.”

Crawler shifted, lowering his bulk closer to the ground, muscles coiling with anticipation. “You get me, big guy. I like that. But words don’t mean much. Let’s see if your fists do the talking.”

Superman remained motionless, unfazed. The smirk didn’t leave his face. “You’re predictable,” he said. “Every time someone waves a red flag, you charge. Maybe that’s why Jack keeps you around—easy to control.”

For a moment, there was silence as the words hit like a hammer, but not in the way he wanted. The anger boiled, mixing with the sick pleasure that came with it, and his grin faded into something far darker. Crawler’s many eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a low snarl. “Careful, Superman. I might just take that shiny little cape of yours as a trophy.”

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. “Try me.”

Crawler didn’t need a second invitation. His legs coiled, and he launched himself at Superman, the ground cracking under the force. The air screamed as his massive frame closed the distance, claws extended, acid spraying from his mouth in a deadly arc.

But Superman moved.

Crawler crashed into the side of a building, his claws carving through reinforced concrete like it was paper. The structure groaned, collapsing in on itself as he skidded to a halt. He twisted his head, every eye scanning for his prey, saliva dripping in sizzling pools beneath him.

Fast. Faster than Crawler had ever seen. One second he was there, the next he wasn’t. 

“Too slow,” Superman’s voice called from above him.

The thrill was intoxicating. He wasn’t just strong—he was smart. A real fight. A real challenge. Crawler roared, the sound shaking windows and setting off car alarms. As he twisted, searching for him with every eye on his body, acid splattered in every direction, eating through steel and stone alike. 

And then he felt it—a punch. Just one. Faster than he could react. The force of it sent him flying across the street, slamming into a parking garage. The entire structure collapsed under his weight, debris raining down in a choking cloud of dust and ash.

Pain flared through Crawler’s body, sharp and exquisite. He let it wash over him, let it feed the burning excitement in his chest. His laughter rose again, echoing across the ruins.

“You’ve got a hell of a swing, big guy!” he called as he dragged himself out of the wreckage. His body was already healing, armor thickening where the blow had landed. New spines sprouted along his side, gleaming and sharp. “Do it again!”

Superman hovered above him, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t winded, wasn’t sweating. He was testing him. Just like Crawler was testing him. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice still maddeningly calm.

“Get what?” Crawler growled, flexing his claws.

“This isn’t about you winning,” he said. “It’s about keeping you busy.”

For a moment, Crawler didn’t understand. Then he caught it—the faintest hint of other presences in the air. Movement in the shadows. Powers shifting, traps waiting.

He realized then that the rest of the Nine weren’t here. Jack, Siberian, Bonesaw—they were nowhere to be seen. It was just him. 

And Superman.

What he thought was a good thing earlier was quickly twisting into something else. An ambush.

Crawler laughed, a low, bubbling sound that rose into a thunderous roar. “You clever bastard,” he muttered, crouching lower. His claws scraped against the pavement, readying for another charge.

“You’re fast to adapt,” Superman said. “So we figured we’d give you something you couldn’t adapt to—time. Distractions. Isolation.”

Crawler’s grin faltered, his monstrous form tensing as he realized the implication. The others hadn’t left him behind out of overconfidence or carelessness. They’d been driven off—or worse, neutralized—while he’d been lured here, into a battle he thought he wanted.

It wasn’t like him to feel cornered—he thrived on danger, on pain—but this was different. He felt it deep within him.

Fear.

“You think you can handle me on your own?” Crawler spat, his voice equal parts fury and eagerness, a masochist’s defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. “You’re either arrogant, or stupid.”

“I’m neither,” Superman replied, his tone steady. “But you’re dangerous, and someone had to keep you occupied.”

Crawler lunged forward, claws tearing into the street as he moved with a terrifying speed for something so massive. But even as he surged toward Superman, he couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at him. For the first time in years, Crawler wondered if he’d finally met the one threat he couldn’t adapt to.

And he relished every second of it.