A Rider Kick in Marvel

Hammerhead and Marko were seated in the back of a sleek black limousine, the engine's hum barely audible over the soundproofed interior. Marko, now able to harden his sand body to mimic his natural skin, looked down at his newly transformed arms. The color shifted back to his familiar flesh tone, and he was clad in a green striped shirt and brown pants, reminiscent of his old style.

Hammerhead watched him with a smirk. “Hey, now you’re in color. How does it feel to have powers no one else has?”

Marko flexed his fingers, feeling the gritty texture beneath the illusion of normal skin. “Incredible, though, gotta admit. My body being sand is weird.”

“Great, now you can take your revenge on Spider-Man.”

Marko’s expression hardened. “Yeah. No, wait. Revenge is for chumps. I don’t care about Spider-Man. All I ever wanted was a big score. And now I got the power to get it.”

Hammerhead’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Listen here, Marko. You agreed to take down the spiders. You don’t just walk away from a deal with me.”

Marko’s tone was defiant. “Why do I gotta listen to you? I got what I wanted. I’m outta here. Everyone is going to hear the name Sandman!”

Before Hammerhead could react, Marko’s fist transformed into a solid block of sand, which he used to punch open the car door. The metal crumpled like paper under the force, and Sandman leaped out, his body dissolving into a cloud of sand that quickly dispersed into the night.

“That lousy, double-crossing—” Hammerhead growled, fists clenched in anger.

From the front passenger seat, Norman Osborn had been observing the entire exchange with a calm, calculating expression. “We lost one super-villain. How is your boss going to handle it?”

Hammerhead turned to Osborn, his face calm. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. Nobody crosses me and gets away with it. We got ways to handle guys like him.”

Osborn’s lips curled into a cold smile. “You better. We can’t afford loose ends, especially not ones with that kind of power.”

The limousine continued down the dark street, the city lights casting fleeting shadows inside the car.

…

Peter swung through the New York skyline, the city's lights flickering below him like a sea of stars. He reveled in the freedom of the night, the wind rushing past as he patrolled his beloved city. Tonight seemed quiet, but Peter knew better than to let his guard down. As he soared past a row of buildings, a sudden explosion echoed through the air, drawing his attention to a nearby bank.

"Looks like someone forgot to make a withdrawal," he quipped, changing his trajectory toward the chaos.

Landing gracefully on a lamppost outside the bank, Peter saw Flint Marko stuffing wads of cash into a sack. Peter's Spidey sense tingled, but he dismissed it, confident in his ability to handle a mere thug.

"Hey, aren’t you the guy who I caught robbing a few days ago?" Peter called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Planning an early retirement?"

Flint looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Spider-Man. "Spider-Man, the name’s Flint Marko," he growled, "always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Peter flipped down from the lamppost, landing in front of Flint with a flourish. "You know me, just trying to keep the streets clean. Why don't you make it easy on yourself and put the money back?"

Flint smirked, tossing the sack aside. "You always were a comedian, Spider-Man. Let's see how funny you are after this."

Without warning, Flint lunged at Peter, who effortlessly dodged to the side. "Okay, Flint. You know you're no match for—"

Before he could finish, Flint's fist collided with Peter's jaw, sending him sprawling backward. Peter rolled and sprang back to his feet. "Okay, maybe I underestimated you a bit," he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

Peter fired a web at Flint's hand, but to his surprise, Flint's skin seemed to shimmer and shift. Peter pulled back his fist and punched Flint square in the face, only to watch in horror as his hand sank into a mass of sand. Flint's face contorted into a grin as his body dissolved into a swirling vortex of sand, reforming behind Peter.

"What the—?" Peter gasped, turning just in time to catch a sand-infused punch to his gut. The force sent him crashing into the side of a parked car, denting the metal.

Flint loomed over him, his body a monstrous amalgamation of sand and flesh. "Didn't see that coming, did you, web-head? From now on, you can call me the Sandman!"

Peter struggled to his feet, his mind racing. "Great, he's got powers now. Should've seen that one coming."

Sandman lashed out again, his limbs transforming into giant hammers of sand. Peter backflipped, barely avoiding the crushing blows. Each impact shook the ground, sending debris flying. Peter fired webs, trying to immobilize Sandman, but the sticky threads simply passed through his shifting form. "This is getting old fast," Peter muttered, somersaulting over a sand hammer that smashed into the pavement where he had just stood.

Sandman sent a barrage of sandy tendrils at Peter, who twisted and contorted his body to dodge them. He tried to find an opening, but Sandman's fluid form made it impossible to land a solid hit. "You're out of your league, Spider-Man!" Sandman taunted, his voice echoing through the chaotic scene.

Peter fired more webs, aiming for Sandman's eyes to blind him temporarily. The webs hit their mark, but Sandman merely dissolved his face into a swirl of sand, re-forming moments later. "Nice try, web-head!" Sandman roared, transforming his fists into massive sand maces and swinging them at Peter with ferocious speed.

Peter ducked and weaved, feeling the strain of the relentless assault. Each time he tried to counterattack, Sandman adapted, his body flowing around the blows like water. Peter's mind raced as he searched for a new strategy. "Come on, Parker, think!"

Suddenly, Sandman delivered a powerful uppercut, sending Peter flying through the air. He landed hard on the pavement, his vision blurred. As he struggled to rise, Sandman loomed over him, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

But then, Flint paused, looking around as if suddenly remembering something. "Consider this a warning, Spider-Man. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

With that, Sandman turned and began to dissolve into the wind, leaving behind the money he had stolen. Peter lay on the ground, gasping for breath, watching as the sandstorm that was Flint Marko disappeared into the night. Marko then remembered the bags of money he had forgotten. His eyes widened in realization. "Ah, man! My money!" Sandman's voice echoed in the distance, a mix of frustration and anger. But it was too late; the opportunity for the heist had slipped through his fingers.

Peter slowly stood up, his body aching from the beating. "Great. Just what I needed. A sandman with a grudge." He glanced at the untouched sack of money and sighed. "At least the bank got a lucky break."

…

The next day, Peter walked into school as usual, relieved to be on time for once. However, his left eye sported a nasty black bruise, a painful reminder of his encounter with Sandman. The morning sun cast long shadows across the bustling schoolyard, and Peter winced as the light hit his swollen eye. “Uhh… this is going to sting. It’s a good thing Aunt May believed I hit a pole yesterday,” he muttered to himself.

Gwen spotted him and hurried over, her face lighting up with concern. “Hey, Peter!” she called out, her voice cutting through the morning chatter. She noticed the black eye immediately. “Where did you get that?”

Peter sighed, knowing he couldn't tell the whole truth. “Fought a super-villain yesterday. He can turn into sand and was robbing banks. He got away and called himself the Sandman.”

Gwen’s eyes widened in shock. “Sand? That’s... bizarre. But we’ll find him, Peter. I’m sure the two of us can take him down.”

Peter smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude. The school bell rang, signaling the start of the day. Students around them shuffled towards their classrooms, but Gwen’s determined expression remained fixed on Peter. “Thanks, Gwen.”

Just then, MJ and Ned arrived, both of them catching sight of Peter’s shiner. Ned’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Did you get into a fight, Peter?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“No! I just ran into a pole yesterday and wasn’t looking, hahaha…” Peter chuckled nervously, trying to play it off. His laugh sounded hollow even to his own ears.

MJ raised an eyebrow, noticing Peter’s odd behavior but choosing to let it slide for now. “Okay, at least you weren’t in a fight. Come with me. Let’s go to the clinic to check that.”

“It’s fine, MJ,” Peter protested weakly.

“Peter~” she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.

“Coming…” Peter relented, following MJ to the infirmary. The hallways were filled with the noise of lockers slamming and students chattering, but Peter's mind was focused on his throbbing eye and MJ’s insistent grip on his arm.

Gwen watched them go, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She turned to Ned, who was still looking bewildered. “They are really good friends, aren’t they,” Ned commented, completely oblivious to the subtext.

“Yeah, they sure are~,” Gwen replied with a knowing tone, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The morning sun continued to rise, casting a warm glow over the school, but Gwen’s thoughts were already on the next move to take down Sandman.