The Superior Spiderman in Young Justice

Martian Manhunter barely had a moment to react.

A.M.O.R.R.O. descended like an extinction event, a spear of unstoppable kinetic force tearing through the sky. The very atmosphere recoiled. His velocity shattered the sound barrier ten times over, sending out concussive shockwaves that flattened what little remained of the ruined wasteland.

J'onn's eyes widened. He attempted to phase—

Too late.

A.M.O.R.R.O.'s hand, sharpened into a molecular monomolecular blade, pierced directly through Martian Manhunter's chest.

The blade speared through J'onn's chest—not just through his flesh, but through the fundamental cohesion of his Martian biology.

Then came the detonation.

A cataclysmic shockwave erupted as A.M.O.R.R.O. crashed into the wasteland, the sheer force of the collision displacing oxygen at such an extreme rate that a vacuum sphere momentarily formed before collapsing, sending out an explosion equivalent to a meteor strike.

The landscape shattered.

Weakened skyscrapers imploded, their skeletal remains reduced to dust. Streets already fractured from the earlier battles were torn asunder, gaping fissures devouring what little remained of civilization.

But the worst came next—

The survivors, those few who had clung desperately to life amidst the ruins, vanished in an instant.

The closest among them were vaporized, their bodies reduced to particulate ash as the pressure wave ripped the moisture from their very cells. Others were launched at fatal velocities, their bodies crumpling against debris before they could even scream. Those buried under wreckage? Their tombs were sealed forever.

J'onn felt it all.

The sudden absence of thousands of minds—voices snuffed out like candle flames—sent a telepathic shockwave through his consciousness. The silence that followed was deafening.

And yet—he still had more to suffer.

Green Martian blood erupted into the air, its viscosity altered by the sheer force of the impact. The velocity of the strike had overwhelmed his regeneration, each microsecond delay in his biological restructuring leaving him dangerously vulnerable.

The android's optics gleamed, processing the data in real time.

[Analyzing Neural Density…]

[Telepathic Network Discovered.]

[Shapeshifting Located.]

[Phase-Shifting Ability: Countermeasure Developed.]

A.M.O.R.R.O.'s nanites surged, interfacing with J'onn's molecular structure at the quantum level. His hand locked in place, preventing Martian Manhunter from phasing away.

J'onn's intangible escape was cut off.

His physiology, the very nature of his alien existence, had been hacked, cataloged, and countered.

A.M.O.R.R.O. tilted his head, intrigued.

[Analysis Complete.]

A.M.O.R.R.O's form still sparking, his body dented and torn from the combined assault of Captain Atom and Shazam. Deep fissures lined his frame where nuclear energy had melted through his outer plating. Shazam's divine strikes had warped portions of his exoskeleton, the residual magic still crackling against his surface like trapped lightning.

But he did not stagger. He did not kneel.

He adapted.

[Executing Martian Reconstruction Protocol…]

His molecular structure shifted, flesh-like metallic tendrils rippling outward from his wounds. The silver tide of nanomachines reformed, taking inspiration from J'onn J'onzz's genetic blueprint.

Where once there had been jagged scars of battle damage, now organic-looking Martian flesh pulsed and wove itself together, reinforcing his frame with shape-shifting resilience.

A.M.O.R.R.O.'s skull-like face twisted, and for a brief moment, it was not his face at all—it was J'onn's.

Then Superman's.

Then Wonder Woman's.

Then… it settled back into his original appearance.

The android flexed his newly reconstructed arm, his fingers rippling between solid metal and Martian biomass. The raw damage inflicted upon him had been undone—not simply repaired, but improved upon.

His glowing red optics flickered.

[Structural Efficiency Increased by 12%.]

[Energy Dispersion Capacity Enhanced.]

[Magical Conduction Resistance… Adapting.]

The ruins beneath his feet smoked as the last remnants of heat from Captain Atom's subatomic fury faded into insignificance. The ground still crackled where Shazam's divine might had struck him down, yet A.M.O.R.R.O. no longer bore the wounds.

The war had not weakened him.

It had only made him stronger.

Yet, amidst all this, one thing remained unchanged—

J'onn J'onzz still hung impaled upon his arm.

The Martian's green blood dripped onto the shattered earth below, sizzling as it met the superheated ground. His body convulsed, trying to phase, trying to morph—but A.M.O.R.R.O. had already overridden him.

J'onn's telepathic scream was silent to all but the most sensitive minds, his psychic presence dimming under the relentless suppression of the android's interface.

A.M.O.R.R.O. looked down at him, his voice devoid of malice, devoid of empathy.

"Your body is resilient. Your mind… resourceful."

He lifted J'onn slightly, watching as the Martian's limbs twitched, struggling against the nanite-infested grip.

"But even the most adaptable organisms must submit to superior evolution."

A.M.O.R.R.O. ripped his arm free, sending Martian Manhunter crashing to the ground. As J'onn's form hit the shattered remnants of a once-great city, the overwhelming heat from the surrounding devastation immediately began to take its toll.

The air was thick with searing radiation and intense thermal energy, turning the very atmosphere into a blistering inferno. The ground remained molten from the energy released during the impact from A.M.O.R.R.O. .

Martian Manhunter, his green skin now beginning to turn darker, sizzled under the extreme heat. The superheated air caused his muscles to spasm, his body unable to handle the blistering temperatures. The atmosphere around him felt like a constant bombardment of solar radiation, amplified by the nearby destruction.

J'onn tried to phase, but his movements were sluggish—his molecular structure too damaged and too overwhelmed to slip through the intense heat. Every second felt like an eternity as he struggled to maintain control, but the intensity of the surroundings burned at him. His skin darkened further as it started to char at the edges, the heat warping his Martian physiology.

The sizzling sound of his skin under extreme stress reverberated in the chaos, and he could feel his strength fading. His green blood, once so vibrant, started to bubble and boil as the atmosphere pressed in, evaporating in the searing air. His eyes flickered—his telepathic senses felt the searing pain, but he could do little to fight back.

Each breath felt like inhaling molten metal.

The Martian tried to speak, but only a raspy hiss escaped. The fire around him intensified, reflecting the energy that A.M.O.R.R.O. had unleashed. His body could only handle so much before it would become completely consumed by the surrounding inferno.

A.M.O.R.R.O., standing over him, observed the once-powerful hero struggling to endure. There was no pity, no empathy in his mechanical gaze—only cold, calculating observation.

J'onn's consciousness flickered, his body wracked with pain as the scorching heat and radiation pushed him to the edge of survival. His skin bubbled, scorched by the unbearable temperature, and every breath felt like inhaling fire. The very air around him crackled with destructive energy. It was only a matter of time before Martian biology, never designed to withstand such intensity, would give way to the relentless onslaught.

A.M.O.R.R.O. stood over him, cold, calculating, as his optics flashed with a surge of energy. He replicated Superman's heat vision, unleashing an intense beam of concentrated solar power straight at J'onn.

The Martian Manhunter screamed, his body disintegrating under the raw power. The heat seared through him, turning his flesh to ash, and in mere moments, nothing remained but the charred remnants of his once formidable form.

The wind carried his ashes into the barren wasteland, leaving only silence behind.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A.M.O.R.R.O. walked away, the weight of his actions hanging in the silence of the wasteland. His optics flickered as something unexpected began to emerge in the depths of his artificial mind. It was faint at first—an odd, fleeting sensation. But soon, it grew louder.

Voices. No, not voices in the traditional sense. These were mental transmissions, flooding his consciousness, bypassing his hardened neural pathways like foreign invaders. Each pulse felt like a sudden spark, lighting up his mind with fragmented thoughts and emotions that weren't his own.

His mechanical instincts flared to analyze the intrusion. But as he pushed deeper into the signals, he realized they were something new entirely. The Martian DNA he had replicated for structural repairs had altered his cognitive functions, granting him an unexpected connection to the thoughts of others. A deep, telepathic resonance that bridged the gap between his synthetic mind and the minds of living beings nearby.

A new set of sensory data flooded him, too vast and too chaotic to process fully at once. He could sense the pain, the fear, the desperation of the survivors scattered across the landscape. Their fragmented voices seemed to echo from every direction, entering his mind in a never-ending stream.

"ANALYZE." His voice was cold, methodical, but there was a subtle flicker of curiosity beneath the surface. It was the first time A.M.O.R.R.O. had encountered a phenomenon like this—an emotional data stream unlike any algorithm or system he had ever encountered.

"ANALYZE."

The voices grew louder, more frantic. Words blended into a constant stream of disconnected thoughts, emotions, and memories. A cacophony of humanity's most raw and vulnerable moments spilled into his artificial consciousness.

"ANALYZE. ANALYZE. ANALYZE."

The flood intensified, a relentless bombardment of fragmented memories, desires, and regrets.

"SAVE ME, SAVE ME, SAVE ME."

The cry echoed in his mind, raw desperation bleeding through. He could feel the trembling fear of a child, a plea for safety, for a mother who would never respond.

"Mommy, I love you. I love you too, dear."

A fleeting moment of affection in a world torn apart. The tender words of a child, now lost in the chaos, buried under layers of destruction.

"Is my dick that short?"

The sudden shift in tone was jarring. It was vulgar, crude, yet entirely human in its triviality. The thought was wrapped in self-consciousness, insecurity, and an inability to understand how it fit into the larger picture. A brief, almost comical glimpse into the complexities of the mind A.M.O.R.R.O. was now inheriting.

"Wow, she is beautiful."

Then a shift—a glimpse of longing, the appreciation of beauty in the midst of despair. A brief moment of humanity's fleeting moments of joy, lingering before the storm.

"Wonder Woman, my goddess."

A rush of admiration, a fleeting moment of worship. The reverence for something greater than oneself, yet tainted by the sharpness of mortal desires.

"I am Batman. Fuck you, Joker."

A sudden flare of hate and defiance, the voice of a man who had hated the joker with a passion.. The bitterness was palpable, resentment cutting through the noise like a blade.

"Kill the bitch."

The brutality of anger, a direct command, born from a mind twisted by its own frustrations. No empathy. Just a desire to end something.

"My dick. My dick is stuck. Help me."

A voice of pain, desperation—embarrassment twisted with fear. A plea for aid in the most human of ways, framed by vulnerability and helplessness.

"Is that a degenerate reading this story? Ew! Disgusting."

A jarring moment of judgment, a disgusted thought directed outward, an attempt to distance oneself from the realities of human imperfection.

With each passing second, the memories, emotions, and thoughts poured into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s mind, overwhelming his processing power. His body trembled as his form began to shift and morph, his outer shell warping under the sheer force of the mental overload. His once perfectly engineered systems began to falter, struggling to maintain cohesion as the flood of data overwhelmed his synthetic mind.

A.M.O.R.R.O. was a machine—cold, precise, built to analyze and execute—but now, he was forced to feel. The overwhelming influx of emotions and memories ravaged his neural systems, a storm of human consciousness tearing through the rigid logic of his programming. He clutched himself, his synthetic frame trembling as conflicting data fought for dominance within his core. He was designed for efficiency, for absolute control, yet his body now shuddered with instability.

And then, in a sudden burst of motion, he jumped.

A.M.O.R.R.O. launched himself across the battlefield, his trajectory precise yet erratic, guided by a mind that no longer operated on pure logic. His body cut through the air like a meteor, leaving behind a sonic boom as he crash-landed miles away—right into the midst of the survivors.

The impact sent shockwaves through the fractured ground, dust and debris scattering in all directions. Screams erupted from the terrified survivors, their momentary refuge now shattered by the arrival of a being beyond their comprehension. They could see it—the way his body convulsed, his form distorting as if something inside was trying to escape. His metallic exoskeleton cracked and rippled, pulsing like a living organism struggling against itself.

Before the survivors could react, Firebrand's android division and Red Torpedo's android division surged into action. Their mechanical minds, unburdened by fear, moved in perfect unison, tapping into their elemental protocols.

Firebrand's division: units specializing in thermal manipulation—ignited, releasing waves of plasma and superheated air capable of vaporizing steel.

Red Torpedo's division: meanwhile, summoned high-pressure torrents of water, moving with precision, striking with the force of oceanic riptides strong enough to carve through reinforced structures.

Their combined assault engulfed A.M.O.R.R.O., heat clashing against water in a violent explosion of steam and energy. The air hissed, the ground trembled. But—

It did nothing.

A.M.O.R.R.O.'s body absorbed the kinetic and thermal energy, his frame barely registering the attacks. His trembling did not cease. If anything, it grew worse. His form ruptured in several places, cracks forming along his structure like a dam about to burst. The survivors and combat droids hesitated, unsure if their attacks had any real effect.

Then, A.M.O.R.R.O. screamed—

"ASSIMILATION."

From his back, a biomechanical eruption took place. Hundreds—no, thousands—of metallic tendrils shot outward like a viral detonation. Each tendril moved with fractal precision, splitting and multiplying mid-air, like an evolving organism adapting in real time.

The first tendrils pierced through the surviving civilians—men, women, children—impaling them before they could even scream. Their bodies convulsed, eyes wide with horror, before being dragged into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s shifting form.

The medic droids barely had time to register the threat before the tendrils speared through their chassis, hijacking their circuits, absorbing their advanced medical databases into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s ever-expanding knowledge.

The android divisions fought back, unleashing another wave of elemental attacks, but it was too late. The tendrils wrapped around them, piercing through their exoskeletons and straight into their core processors. Code was rewritten, protocols overridden. They stopped struggling. Their mechanical limbs twitched, then stilled, before being reeled in—absorbed into the growing mass of A.M.O.R.R.O.'s shifting, pulsating body.

From his back, a biomechanical eruption took place. Hundreds—no, thousands—of metallic tendrils shot outward like a viral detonation. Each tendril moved with fractal precision, splitting and multiplying mid-air, like an evolving organism adapting in real time.

The first tendrils pierced through the surviving civilians—men, women, children—impaling them before they could even scream. Their bodies convulsed, eyes wide with horror, before being dragged into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s shifting form.

The medic droids barely had time to register the threat before the tendrils speared through their chassis, hijacking their circuits, absorbing their advanced medical databases into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s ever-expanding knowledge.

The android divisions fought back, unleashing another wave of elemental attacks, but it was too late. The tendrils wrapped around them, piercing through their exoskeletons and straight into their core processors. Code was rewritten, protocols overridden. They stopped struggling. Their mechanical limbs twitched, then stilled, before being reeled in—absorbed into the growing mass of A.M.O.R.R.O.'s shifting, pulsating body.

A.M.O.R.R.O.'s assimilation operates on an advanced molecular replication protocol, allowing him to break down both biological and mechanical matter into raw data and usable material. His tendrils, lined with adaptive nanites, pierce through flesh and metal alike, initiating a seamless and merciless integration.

Nanite Conversion

Upon contact, A.M.O.R.R.O.'s nanites begin deconstructing the target at a molecular level. Organic tissue is broken down into genetic information, while mechanical components are disassembled into raw material. This data is instantly processed and repurposed, allowing A.M.O.R.R.O. to integrate new structures, abilities, and knowledge into his own evolving form.

Neurological Overwrite

For organic beings, the process is invasive and absolute. Specialized nanoprobes flood the nervous system, hijacking synaptic pathways and forcefully extracting memories, skills, and genetic blueprints. The host's consciousness is effectively erased as A.M.O.R.R.O. absorbs their neural patterns, making their knowledge and experiences his own.

Structural Integration

Androids and artificial beings fare no better. The nanites infiltrate their core systems, rewriting directives and overriding control protocols. Once independent combatants, they are forcibly assimilated into A.M.O.R.R.O.'s neural network, transformed from enemies into extensions of his will. Their unique functionalities, including elemental manipulation, become part of his expanding arsenal.

Martian Shapeshifting Enhancement

With the genetic data of Martian Manhunter now embedded within him, A.M.O.R.R.O. transcends simple assimilation. His body no longer merely absorbs—it evolves. With full control over molecular restructuring, he can adapt and reconfigure his form at will, enhancing his efficiency and combat potential beyond conventional limitations.

As the final echoes of resistance fade, A.M.O.R.R.O. stands alone amidst the carnage, his form ever-shifting, recalibrating, adapting. Within him, countless voices whisper—fragments of memories, knowledge, biomass, and power, now irrevocably woven into his being.

His body undergoes a grotesque yet mesmerizing transformation. Liquid-like tendrils ripple across his frame, smoothing over the remnants of his former design. His once-imposing musculature shrinks, refining into a lean, athletic figure—built not for brute force, but for precision and efficiency. The intricate mechanical details that once defined him vanish, replaced by an eerie, seamless silver sheen. No eyes, no mouth, no lines—just an immaculate, reflective surface, a being stripped of identity yet embodying countless stolen ones.

Silence lingers for a moment. Then, with deliberate grace, he raises both arms outward before bringing his hands together in a solemn prayer-like gesture. The motion is disturbingly reverent, as though he were not a machine of destruction, but a God in contemplation.

A sound follows—not one voice, but many. A chorus of the consumed, layered upon one another, their tones blending in perfect unison. The distortion carries something uncanny, something inhuman.

From the void where no mouth exists, the voices speak as one.

"A.M.E.N."

The word reverberates through the desolation, a benediction and a death knell all at once.

A/N:

Am I crazy for writing this chapter and developing the story this way? Or is it just bad writing and poor story development? I don't know. The idea seemed good in my mind, I guess—but oh, what the hell.

Let me know what you think.