The Superior Spiderman in Young Justice

The battle was over. The Earth still stood. But the scars remained.

High above the planet, the Watchtower drifted in silence.

Once a beacon of the Justice League, it now served as a triage center, its halls filled with the wounded, its systems operating at full capacity to stabilize the survivors.

In the heart of the station, within a high-security medical bay, three of the League's greatest heroes lay in regeneration pods, suspended between survival and collapse.

Superman.Wonder Woman.Martian Manhunter.

Each pod, designed by Superior Spider-Man, combined the most advanced technology available to the League.

The pods integrated:

Kryptonian healing matrices from the Fortress of Solitude, using solar-infused energy fields to accelerate cellular regeneration.

Martian bio-regenerative fluid, a molecular reconstructive agent that allowed for the regrowth of damaged tissue.

Thanagarian Nth-metal stabilizers, preventing further bodily degradation and ensuring a controlled healing process.

Atlantean hydro-medical suspension, a liquid medium infused with nano-repair organisms, aiding in the restoration of burned and charred tissue.

Superior nanite integration, using OBLIVION nanites to reconstruct organic matter and protect neural pathways from permanent trauma.

The pods worked, but even with this level of care, the damage was extensive.

Superman lay motionless, his body overworked from battle and solar overexposure. His Kryptonian cells were struggling to replenish themselves.

Wonder Woman's condition was more critical. Her armor had been incinerated. Her body was covered in deep burns, wounds that even an Amazon's resilience could not prevent.

Worse still, her system had been compromised by radiation poisoning. A.M.O.R.R.O.'s final attack had left behind residual nuclear contamination, something her divine physiology was not built to withstand.

Even now, traces of lethal isotopes circulated through her bloodstream, slowly attacking her from within. The regeneration pod struggled to filter the radiation, but the damage was already spreading. If a solution wasn't found soon, even the daughter of Zeus might not survive.

Martian Manhunter was in equally dire condition. His once-fluid form struggled to hold itself together, his molecular structure unstable from the sheer energy exposure. His body, which once shapeshifted with ease, now barely responded, his regenerative abilities failing to repair the damage. Worse, deep burns covered his green skin, remnants of prolonged exposure to A.M.O.R.R.O.'s relentless energy attacks.

Martian physiology was uniquely vulnerable to fire, and these burns were no ordinary wounds. They had been inflicted by energy so intense, so absolute, that it had seared through his molecular cohesion, forcing his body into a state of painful rigidity. The burns refused to heal, even under the pod's advanced restorative properties.

And perhaps worst of all—his mind was silent.

Martian Manhunter had always been a presence in the League, his telepathy forming an unseen bond between his teammates. Now, there was nothing. His vast consciousness, which once stretched across the planet, lay in complete isolation.

Beyond the reinforced glass of the medical bay, the Watchtower's command center pulsed with quiet urgency.

Batman stood at the forefront, his eyes scanning the medical readouts, his cowl casting a shadow over his tired, calculating gaze. He said nothing, offering no reassurance, only cold analysis. He had witnessed devastation before, but never on this scale.

This was beyond war. Beyond crisis.

This was a world brought to its knees.

Across the planet, the Justice League and their allies worked tirelessly to contain the aftermath.

The Flash and Kid Flash blurred between cities, evacuating survivors and delivering medical aid faster than any system could coordinate.

Aquaman and the Atlanteans stabilized coastal cities, preventing tsunamis and purging the poisoned waters left in the wake of A.M.O.R.R.O.'s devastation.

Captain Atom absorbed the lingering nuclear radiation, His new OBLIVION Containment Suit, designed by Superior Spider-Man, enhanced his abilities exponentially—not merely stabilizing his unstable atomic structure, but refining it, optimizing every aspect of his power.

Shazam tore through the ruins, lifting collapsed buildings and clearing paths for incoming medical reinforcements.

Hawkgirl sat in silence, clutching Hawkman's mace, mourning the husband she had lost to the sun.

The Green Lantern Corps constructed planetary barriers, ensuring that Earth's weakened state did not invite new threats from beyond.

Yet despite their best efforts, the numbers were grim.

Entire districts of Metropolis were unrecognizable, reduced to scorched wastelands. The death toll continued to rise, and countless cities lay in ruin. Infrastructure across the globe had collapsed under the weight of A.M.O.R.R.O.'s rampage.

The League had fought to save Earth.

But saving it was not the same as winning.

In the Watchtower's command center, a heavy silence lingered. The weight of the fallen, the cost of survival—it was suffocating.

Then, a voice cut through the stillness.

"Status report," Batman said, his tone steady despite the exhaustion.

Superior Spider-Man stood near the medical pods, arms folded, his mechanical limbs still and controlled. He did not turn as he answered, his lenses locked onto the wounded within.

"Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter are stable. Their conditions remain critical, but the pods are preventing further deterioration. The radiation in Diana's system is slowing, but she will not recover without direct intervention. J'onn's burns are resisting regenerative treatment, locking his physiology in a crisis state. And Superman…"

He hesitated. His lenses narrowed.

"Superman is healing, but… something is off. His body is responding, but at a slower rate than expected. There are irregularities in his cellular regeneration, possibly from prolonged solar overload during battle. He will wake up, but we don't know when—or in what condition."

Batman absorbed the information.

"How long?"

"Days. Weeks. Longer, if their conditions worsen."

A long silence followed. Then Batman turned, his gaze shifting toward the observation deck, where Earth loomed in the distance—fractured, wounded, but still standing.

"We need to prepare for what comes next."

Superior Spider-Man didn't argue. He knew what he meant.

Earth was vulnerable. The League was weakened.

And somewhere, beyond the stars, the universe was watching.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{The World Watches – The Aftermath of Metropolis}

Across the globe, every screen, every radio, and every news broadcast carried the same grim message.

The world had changed.

BREAKING NEWS: "Metropolis in ruins—millions feared dead. Governments declare global state of emergency."

On massive holoscreens in Times Square, news anchors spoke with urgency, their voices laced with shock and grief.

"We are now looking at live images from what remains of Metropolis. The once-thriving city—home to millions—is now nothing more than rubble and scorched earth. Entire districts have been wiped from the map, and rescue teams continue to search for survivors. The current death toll is estimated in the tens of millions, but authorities warn that the true number may never be known."

In London, BBC reporters stood outside Parliament as world leaders gathered for an emergency summit.

"With Metropolis destroyed and other cities across the world suffering catastrophic damage, the international community is left grappling with a crisis unlike any before. Relief efforts are being coordinated, but the scale of destruction is almost beyond comprehension."

A broadcast in Tokyo showed drone footage of the devastation from above—vast stretches of land turned into wastelands, skyscrapers collapsed like fallen dominoes, streets swallowed by massive craters.

"Japan has deployed its own rescue teams to assist in the North American relief efforts, while simultaneously dealing with the aftermath of secondary shockwaves that triggered earthquakes across the Pacific. Seismologists have confirmed that the force of the battle in Metropolis disrupted tectonic stability, leading to aftershocks as far as Southeast Asia."

From Russia to Brazil, from China to Australia, the reports remained the same.

A world forever changed.

_____________________________________

{The Political Fallout}

World governments scrambled to respond.

The United Nations convened an emergency session, heads of state arguing over how to rebuild, how to secure their nations in the wake of such devastation. Some called for unity, for a cooperative effort to aid those affected. Others, however, saw the disaster as a moment of vulnerability.

Military forces around the world mobilized, fearing that Earth's weakness would invite opportunistic attacks—from both human enemies and extraterrestrial threats.

In Washington, the President of the United States addressed the nation, standing before a podium draped in black mourning banners.

"We have faced the unimaginable. We have lost more than we can ever count. But we are still here. And we will stand together, as a people, as a planet, to rebuild from this darkness. We will endure."

But behind the hopeful words, fear was spreading.

_____________________________________

{Public Reaction – A Divided World}

In the ruins of cities, civilians gathered around makeshift screens, watching, waiting.

For some, there was grief.

Families still searched for loved ones. Hospitals were overwhelmed, mass graves dug in desperation. Relief centers were filled to the brim with displaced survivors, some too shocked to speak.

For others, there was rage.

Protests erupted in different parts of the world, anger directed at the Justice League and superheroes as a whole.

"Where were they before it got this bad?!" a woman in Paris shouted at a news reporter. "How did they let this happen? If they can fight gods, why couldn't they stop this sooner?!"

In Gotham, riots broke out. Not just from criminals, but from ordinary citizens who had lost everything. The National Guard was deployed in multiple cities across the world, trying to contain the unrest.

Anti-superhero groups gained traction, blaming the Justice League for the destruction, questioning whether heroes made the world safer—or more dangerous.

Others, however, refused to let anger win.

Across the ruins, people helped one another.

Rescue workers, civilians, and volunteers joined efforts to pull survivors from the rubble, to clear streets, to offer what little food and shelter they could.

The world had been broken.

But some still refused to let hope die.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{The Watchtower}

Back in the Watchtower, Batman stood before a massive holographic display, watching the news feeds in silence.

Every statistic, every headline, every casualty report flickered across the screen.

Beside him, Superior Spider-Man analyzed data with cold efficiency, but even he knew—this was a wound no algorithm could fix.

Superboy stood near the observation window, his gaze locked onto the Earth below. His once-flawless face now bore a scar—a brutal reminder of A.M.O.R.R.O.'s attack. The upper skin on his face had been shredded during the battle, leaving a jagged, discolored mark across his cheek and brow. Kryptonian durability had ensured his survival, but even his accelerated healing couldn't erase the damage entirely.

And deep inside, he knew the scar wasn't just physical.

"They hate us," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

No one argued.

Because he was right.

Miss Martian stood nearby, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. Her eyes shut, but it did little to block out the overwhelming flood of emotions pressing against her mind.

Grief. Anger. Fear.

The world below was drowning in sorrow, and no matter how much she tried to silence it, it still bled through, like a relentless tide crashing against the barriers she had hastily thrown up.

But the worst feeling—the one she couldn't push away—was the one buried deep inside her own heart.

J'onn.

Her uncle. Her mentor. The one constant in her life since she arrived on Earth.

She had always known him as indestructible—a pillar of strength and wisdom, someone whose presence had been as unshakable as the stars themselves. But now… now he was broken.

Her telepathic link with him, once strong and ever-present, was nothing more than a distant flicker. His mind, once a vast ocean of knowledge and warmth, was silent.

And it terrified her.

She could still feel his pain. The deep burns that refused to heal. The molecular instability locking him in agony. His body, once fluid and adaptive, now struggling to hold together—like a glass sculpture on the verge of shattering.

But worse than the physical pain was what she couldn't feel.

J'onn had always been there, his thoughts always reaching out to her, offering comfort, guidance, strength. And now, there was nothing.

A void where he used to be.

Her breathing hitched, her fingers digging into her arms.

"Uncle J'onn… please be well."

She didn't realize she had spoken aloud until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Superboy.

His touch was hesitant, unsure, but grounding. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. His face—scarred, weary—held no words, but she understood what he was trying to say.

"You're not alone."

M'gann swallowed hard, nodding, forcing herself to breathe. J'onn was still alive. There was still hope. And she wouldn't give up on him.

Not now. Not ever.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Across the command center, Robin stood near one of the auxiliary consoles, his gloved hands resting on the edge as he stared at the scrolling data. Unlike the others, he hadn't spoken much since returning from Earth.

His mask hid the exhaustion in his eyes, but Batman could see it.

He had spent hours coordinating search and rescue operations, working to maintain order in the cities affected by the battle. The League's attention had been spread thin, so someone had to step up to handle the chaos on the ground.

And he had.

But even he knew that no matter how many people they saved, it wasn't enough.

"You should rest." Batman's voice was calm but firm.

Robin didn't look up from the screen. "I will."

"Now."

Robin's jaw tensed. "There's too much to do. The death toll keeps rising, and people are turning against us. If we don't control the narrative, someone else will. There are already talks of—"

"I know," Batman interrupted. His voice didn't waver. "But you can't fix this in one night."

Robin's hands clenched into fists.

That was the problem.

Batman was right.

He couldn't fix this.

Not this time.

He exhaled slowly and finally turned away from the console, rubbing his eyes. "How bad is it?"

Batman didn't answer immediately. He didn't need to. The silence spoke for itself.

Robin glanced toward the medical bay, where Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter lay in their pods. Three of the strongest beings on the planet, taken down in a single battle.

"Do you think they'll make it?"

Batman's expression was unreadable. "We're doing everything we can."

Robin didn't like that answer.

Because it meant Batman wasn't sure.

And if Batman wasn't sure…

"Oracle's already tracking potential threats," Robin said, shifting gears, forcing himself to focus. "People are panicking. Governments are looking for something—or someone—to blame. LexCorp and other private entities are already moving in, offering 'support' to the recovery efforts. But we both know what that really means."

Batman nodded. "They're exploiting the crisis."

"They'll use this as leverage. We need to move fast." Robin's fingers tapped against his gauntlet. "We need to keep an eye on any political shifts, track black market arms deals—"

"You'll take a break first," Batman said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "You're not taking a break."

"I'm not the one who's been awake for forty-two hours."

Robin opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.

Because he was exhausted.

And Batman, despite everything, wasn't wrong.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only for a few hours."

Batman gave the barest nod of approval. "Oracle will brief you when you wake up."

Robin turned on his heel and started toward the Watchtower's private quarters. But just before he left the room, he paused.

"They're going to come after us, Bruce."

Batman didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on the planet below.

"I know," he said.

"And we're not ready for it."

Batman's fists clenched at his sides. "We will be."

Robin nodded once. Then he was gone.

Superior Spider-Man, who had remained silent through the exchange, adjusted his lenses and finally spoke.

"He's right, you know."

Batman didn't acknowledge him.

"Humanity is unpredictable," Otto continued. "When faced with catastrophe, they either unite or collapse into self-destruction. From what I'm seeing…" His mechanical arms flexed slightly. "They're choosing the latter."

Batman's voice was quiet.

"Then we stop them before they do something they can't take back."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{Hidden Location}

Superior Spider-Man walked with purpose.

The underground facility pulsed with advancement beyond human comprehension, its walls lined with intricate machinery and adaptive interfaces, all operating under a singular directive—progress.

Rows of containment pods lined the chamber, each one housing some of the most dangerous metahumans and enhanced individuals on the planet. Their bodies remained suspended, locked within a state of induced neurological stasis, their brains and abilities rendered inert by a carefully calibrated bio-suppression field.

The air hummed with the low-frequency vibrations of quantum dampeners—ensuring that not even those with reality-warping abilities could interfere with the system.

Superior Spider-Man moved between the pods, his mechanical arms adjusting, his enhanced lenses scanning the readouts of each subject. The OBLIVION PROTOCOL nanites swarmed the facility, microscopic sentinels systematically analyzing, mapping, and deconstructing the intricacies of every power contained within.

Then, he stopped.

Before him stood a single containment pod, larger than the rest.

Inside—Shade, the Shadow Assassin.

The master of darkness, his body locked in suspension, his form barely visible within the dim glow of the chamber. Even in a deep coma, his presence seemed to swallow the light around him, the very fabric of his being resisting absolute containment.

Otto raised a hand, his fingers pressing lightly against the reinforced glass.

A cold smirk formed beneath his mask.

"Fascinating. Even in unconsciousness, your very existence is an anomaly—a rejection of light, a negation of physical law."

He leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper of absolute certainty.

"Soon, I will understand your powers. And the rest of the metahumans housed here—your abilities, your biology, your anomalies—they will become mine. Every calculation, every genetic algorithm, every quantum principle that defines you will be unraveled, assimilated, and perfected."

His mechanical limbs twitched slightly, the nanites embedded within them pulsing with adaptive resonance.

"Because unlike you, unlike them—I do not waste power. I do not let it sit idle, governed by fragile morality or outdated philosophies."

His lenses narrowed.

"No. I refine it. I optimize it. And once I have acquired the necessary data…"

The OBLIVION PROTOCOL interface activated.

The entire facility shuddered as thousands of nanites surged into motion, the walls and terminals pulsing as an unfathomable stream of biometric analysis, neurological encryption, and genetic decryption flooded into Otto's mind.

The complete, intricate blueprint of A.M.O.R.R.O.

For a moment, his entire body tensed, his mind absorbing the culmination of every replicated ability, every evolving principle of power, every limitless possibility that A.M.O.R.R.O. had once embodied.

His fists clenched, mechanical arms tightening with raw, untapped potential.

"This… is the next step."

He inhaled sharply, his mind processing, refining, restructuring.

"The League believes in containment. The governments believe in control. But true evolution is not restrained—it is seized. It is engineered."

His gaze flickered back to Shade, to the countless others who lay in slumber.

"And soon… they will understand what it truly means to be Superior."

[END OF VOLUME 1]