Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 20: Max Dillon (2)

[Third Person's PoV] 


Every single day Max spent in that sterile, suffocating hospital room was a fresh kind of torment. It gnawed at his sanity, scraped away at the edges of his mind, driving him deeper into madness with every passing second. The monotony, the quiet hum of machines, the ever-present scent of antiseptic—all of it weighed down on him like a coffin he couldn’t escape.


He was confined to his bed, trapped under layers of wires, needles, and monitors that beeped and blinked with no sign of change. The doctors, despite their best efforts and hopeful reassurances, had made no progress. No improvements. No solutions. To Max, it felt less like recovery and more like captivity. He wasn’t a patient—he was a test subject. A lab rat caught in a maze with no exit.


With a sigh of frustration, he reached out, fingers trembling, and grabbed the remote control on the side table. He flicked on the TV, desperate for a distraction, for anything that could pull him away from the spiral of his own thoughts. The screen buzzed to life, displaying a news report about the rise of Spider-Man—New York’s brand new hero.


But before the segment could even finish, the screen crackled violently, then went black. Static fizzled for a second before the TV died altogether.


Max stared at the blank screen, jaw tightening. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what had happened—he already knew. He was the cause. His very presence disrupted electronics now. He was a walking circuit breaker, a human power surge.


“Damn it,” he growled, his anger bubbling to the surface. His grip tightened around the remote until his knuckles turned white. A surge of electricity pulsed through his body and into the remote. It sparked, sizzled—and then exploded into fragments, scattering burnt plastic across the floor.


“That’s it! I’ve had enough!” Max shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. His patience had reached its limit. Rage burned hot in his chest. With violent, jerking motions, he ripped the IVs from his arms, tore the electrodes from his chest, and threw off the blanket covering him.


The commotion triggered a response instantly. Footsteps thundered in the hallway, and moments later, a team of nurses, doctors, and two security guards burst into the room, alarmed and wide-eyed.


“Mr. Dillon! Please, calm down! You need to lie back—”


“No!!” Max roared, cutting them off. His voice boomed like thunder, shaking the air. The overhead lights began to flicker wildly, casting erratic shadows across the room. The intensity built until the bulbs exploded with a chorus of pops, shards of glass raining down as everyone instinctively shielded their eyes.


“I’ve laid down long enough!” Max continued, fists clenched so tightly they shook. “I’m done wasting away in this bed! Done doing nothing!”


Electricity surged from his fists, wrapping around his arms like glowing veins, crackling and sparking in the dim light.


The medical staff looked at one another, panic etched across their faces. One of the doctors gave a subtle nod to the guards, silently instructing them to restrain him.


Max caught the movement. His eyes narrowed, his expression twisting into fury. Without thinking, he thrust a hand forward.


A bolt of searing energy shot from his palm like lightning incarnate—fast, precise, and deadly. It pierced through one of the guards’ chest in an instant.


Time seemed to freeze.


The impact blew a hole through the man’s torso the size of a melon. Blood erupted in a gruesome spray, splattering the walls, the floor, and the terrified onlookers. The guard staggered back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as blood poured from it, dripping down his chin. He glanced down at the gaping, ruined cavity in his chest, then dropped to his knees.


A second later, he collapsed face-first to the floor with a sickening thud. A pool of blood rapidly spread beneath him, soaking into the tile.


Screams rang out from the nurses. One of them dropped her clipboard and covered her mouth in horror. Another ran from the room. The remaining staff backed away slowly, paralyzed by shock and fear.


Max stood frozen, chest heaving, eyes wide.


“I… I didn’t mean to…” he whispered, his voice cracking. His gaze locked on the dead man. “Oh God… what have I done?”


‘They’ll lock me up… they’ll put me in prison… I’ll never be cured. I’ll always be a freak… a monster…’ 


His thoughts spiraled into panic. He couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t.


Desperate, he turned to the wall and raised his arm. A high-pitched whine filled the room as a beam of concentrated energy exploded from his palm, blasting through the concrete like a wrecking ball. Dust and debris flew everywhere, revealing a scorched path that led into an alleyway outside.


“Stay away from me!” he shouted, backing toward the exit. “Don’t follow me unless you want to end up like him!”


And with that, he bolted into the corridor he’d created, disappearing into the smoke and rubble.


Outside, the air hit him like a slap, but he didn’t stop. He looked at his glowing hands, trembling with volatile power. He clenched them and then thrusted them downward to his side.


A surge of electricity erupted beneath him like a shockwave, launching him into the air with a deafening crack. He screamed as he hurtled upward, barely managing to grab the edge of the rooftop. His fingers scrambled for purchase before he finally pulled himself over, collapsing onto the rooftop in a heap.


On all fours, Max gasped for breath. His body trembled violently. He retched and vomited inside his helmet, bile and stomach acid splashing against the visor. With a scream of disgust and anguish, he tore the helmet off and flung it away.


“AHHHHHHH!!!” His scream split the air, raw and primal. Electricity surged wildly around his head, exploding in jagged arcs that momentarily formed the shape of a star.


“I’m a monster… I’ve become a monster…” he sobbed, grabbing his face as tears mixed with sweat and blood. “She has to fix me. This is all her fault. She did this to me!”


He pounded the rooftop with both fists, unleashing another explosion of electricity that spread across the building. Lights flickered out, the ventilation system burst into flames, and smoke began to rise into the sky.


“She has to fix me!” Max shouted again, more demonic, more unhinged. “She just has to!!”


Max pushed himself to his feet, his body still trembling from the surge of power and emotion. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared down at his crackling hands. Sparks danced along his fingertips like fireflies possessed. With a low growl, he clenched his hands into fists.


He turned his gaze outward, staring across the vast stretch of rooftops that sprawled before him like an urban jungle. His pupils narrowed. The wild, unstable glint in his eyes sharpened. His sanity, already frayed, seemed to dangle by a thread.


He needed to move—had to. He couldn’t stay still. If he stayed still, he could be captured and imprisoned.


With a shout of effort, Max bolted forward. His feet pounded against the rooftop as he sprinted toward the ledge. Without hesitation, he thrust his hand downward. A surge of electricity erupted beneath him, propelling him into the air like a missile.


He soared through the gap between buildings and landed hard on the next rooftop, tumbling across the surface with a painful grunt. His body skidded and rolled before he came to a stop.


But he didn’t stay down.


Max growled, crawling onto all fours like a wounded animal before rising to his feet again. Blood trickled from a scrape on his brow, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He broke into a run once more, his pace faster this time, more sure.


He reached the next edge. Thrust. Jump. Land. Tumble. Run.


Again and again, Max leapt from rooftop to rooftop, getting more accustomed to the rhythm of it—more comfortable with the crackling power surging through his body. His form began to stabilize. His transitions smoothed out. He went from tumbling clumsily to landing in a crouch, launching back into a sprint like a lightning bolt in motion.


His manic laughter echoed through the rooftops.


He reached out with both palms and unleashed a powerful burst of electricity downward. But instead of launching himself to another rooftop, Max began to float.


His eyes widened. “I… I’m flying…?”


He hovered shakily in the air, electricity coursing beneath him, lifting his body upward with erratic pulses. For a brief moment, Max felt weightless—free.


Then reality hit.


Literally.


Max crashed headfirst into a massive billboard for a perfume ad, bursting straight through it in a shower of sparks and shredded plastic. He spun in mid-air, arms flailing wildly as he tried to stabilize himself.


He smashed through a second sign, this one advertising a Broadway musical. Pieces of wood and canvas scattered in his wake. Sparks exploded behind him like a trail of destruction as he spiraled out of control.


He bounced off the side of a building, careened into a chimney, then slammed shoulder-first into a ventilation unit with a loud clang. He cried out as he ricocheted off it, spiraling again like a broken firework.


Finally, he crash-landed on another rooftop, his body skipping once across the gravel surface before coming to a groaning stop. He lay there, dazed, his limbs twitching as electricity arced off his skin in frantic bursts.


But as painful as it was, Max was learning. His body ached, his muscles screamed, and his mind was barely holding it together—but he was adapting. Evolving.