Marvel Transmigration: I Possessed Iron Man

"Uh, what's your name?" asked the gold-suited host in sunglasses, glancing at Peter Parker, who was nervously waiting to go on stage.

"I'm the Human Spider!" Peter shouted confidently.

"Huh?"

The host pulled his sunglasses down slightly, staring at Peter in disbelief. "Seriously? That's the best name you could come up with?"

"Yeah!" Peter replied, a little proud of himself.

"Tch, awful name."

Shaking his head, the host adjusted his sunglasses and strode under the spotlight.

"Three thousand dollars will be awarded to the terrifying, the deadly... the Amazing Spider-Man!"

His voice echoed through the arena as he pointed toward Peter.

The curtain lifted. Peter stood frozen under the glaring lights, wearing a red hood that only revealed his wide, innocent eyes, a long-sleeved hoodie with a makeshift spider emblem, outdated blue pants, and leather gloves.

Peter turned toward the host.

"What did you say? I'm the Human Spider!"

"Kid, I don't care what your name is. Get your ass on that stage!"

"No way, he got my name wrong!"

"Shut up and get moving!" A large hand shoved him forward, forcing Peter onto the stage.

The crowd roared with laughter as they got a good look at the scrawny kid, barely five-foot-eight, stumbling into the ring in his ridiculous red-and-blue mismatched outfit.

A wave of boos erupted.

But they weren't cheers — the crowd was jeering.

"Get off the stage, shorty!"

A few massive, muscular men gave exaggerated thumbs-down gestures, heckling loudly.

"Bone Saw's gonna tear you apart!"

"Hope you brought your mommy, little man!"

"Bone Saw's gonna rip you in half! You're gonna be crying for help!"

Even a group of blonde bombshells in the front row looked on with disgust.

Thud.

A giant bucket of popcorn sailed through the air and hit Peter square on the head.

Trash rained down from all directions.

A loud Latina woman yelled, "I'm gonna rip off all eight of your freakin' legs!"

"Oh no, oh God..." Peter muttered as he noticed several medics hauling a huge man in a bull mask off the stage.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"My leg! My leg!" the masked man howled in agony.

Peter's eyes widened as he saw the man's leg grotesquely twisted in the wrong direction.

As Peter approached the edge of the ring, the New York crowd's bloodlust ignited again.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Wearing red sneakers, Peter climbed into the ring.

Creak.

A massive steel cage descended from above, locking the ring inside an iron prison.

Peter's eyes widened in shock. This wasn't in the plan.

"A cage match?!" he exclaimed.

A fat guy in the front row, holding popcorn, shouted excitedly.

Peter hurried over to the edge of the cage and looked down at the staff.

"Hey! Can someone explain what's happening?"

The gold-suited host bellowed, "Security! Lock the cage!"

Several muscular security guards in police uniforms arrived with heavy chains, securing the cage shut.

"Wait, there's been a mistake! I didn't sign up for a cage match!" Peter shouted, running to the side of the ring.

The security guards ignored him, sealing the cage without a word.

"What the hell?! Open the door! Take these chains off!"

A towering, muscle-bound man in a tank top sneered at Peter from across the ring.

"Hey, freak!" he shouted.

Peter turned. "Freak? You talking to me?"

"You're not getting out of here. Don't even try. I'm gonna play with you for three whole minutes!" The man cackled menacingly.

Without another word, he charged at Peter like a runaway train.

Bang!

The cage rattled violently as the man collided with the steel bars.

But before the muscle man could grab him, Peter leapt into the air — soaring over two meters high and clung to the cage's upper bars.

Dazed from the impact, the muscle man looked up, baffled.

"What the hell are you doing up there?"

"Keeping my distance!" Peter shot back with a grin. "Nice outfit. Did your husband pick it out for you?"

Spider-Man's trash talk had officially kicked in.

Enraged, the muscle man bent his legs, ready to jump and drag Peter down.

But before he could get close, Peter flipped mid-air, gracefully landing behind him.

"Raaahhh!"

The muscle man let out a beastly roar and charged again.

Thwip-thwip!

Webbing shot from Peter's wrists, sticking to the top of the cage.

The muscle man, humiliated, snatched a folding chair from a female audience member near the ring.

Peter, still feeling smug, barely saw the next move coming.

Smash!

The chair crashed down on Peter's head.

Crack!

Caught off guard, Peter fell to the ground.

Whack!

Another heavy blow slammed onto his back.

Peter groaned, struggling to rise.

Smack. Smack. Smack!

The muscle man stood over him, delivering strike after brutal strike.

The loud Latina woman in the crowd cheered wildly. "Crush that spider!"

Suddenly, her whole body tensed, and sweat poured down her legs as excitement overtook her.

The New Yorkers in the arena erupted into a frenzied chant.

"Bone Saw! Bone Saw! Bone Saw!"

Seeing Peter writhing on the ground, the muscle man grabbed his leg and swung him like a ragdoll into the steel cage pillar.

"Oh COME ON BABY, harder!" several blonde bombshells shouted in support.

A blonde woman handed the muscle man an iron rod.

"Stick it up the spider's butt!"

Peter's eyes narrowed. With lightning speed, he launched a precise kick into the man's thigh, folding him like a shrimp.

Peter followed with five rapid-fire kicks, landing on the man's stomach, chest, head, and chin.

The muscle man, reeling, still managed to raise the iron rod with both hands, ready to crush Peter.

But Peter planted both feet on the man's chest and flipped backward, launching him into the air.

Clang!

The muscle man flew like a wrecking ball, smashing into the steel bars of the cage.

"KO!"

The blonde women who had been cheering for the muscle man fell silent, their faces frozen in shock.

The New York crowd erupted into chaos, cheering wildly.

"One! Two! Three!"

"It's over! It's over! Victory!"

The referee grabbed Peter's arm, lifting it high in the air — his face still dazed — declaring him the winner of the match.

(End of Chapter)

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