Spider-Man dangled from a flagpole, eyeing his newest adversary with a mix of disbelief and resigned irritation. The villain before him was not your typical rogue's gallery member. This was a sentient mass of water, sloshing about the streets of New York and causing chaos wherever it went. Its name, as it had announced in a booming, gurgling voice, was Hydro-Havoc. "Oh, great," Spider-Man muttered under his breath. "Let me guess, you were a plumber who fell into a vat of cursed water during a full moon?" Hydro-Havoc responded by forming a gigantic, watery fist and swinging it at Spider-Man, who nimbly flipped away. "Your jests will not save you, Spider!" the villain bellowed, sending torrents of water spiraling towards our hero. The fight was bizarre. Spider-Man attempted to web up Hydro-Havoc, only for the villain to turn into a whirlpool and escape. At one point, Spider-Man found himself surfing on a web-board over a wave of the villain's making, all the while trying to figure out a way to defeat him. "Okay, seriously, how do you punch water?" Spider-Man groaned, dodging another splash attack. "It's like trying to staple jello to the ceiling." Just then, he spotted a fire hydrant nearby, an idea forming as fast as a cat meme spreading on the internet. "It's time to be shrewd, Spidey," he said to himself. With agility only a spider could muster, he danced around Hydro-Havoc, leading the waterlogged fiend on a merry chase right towards the hydrant. "C'mon, follow the red and blue arachnid," Spider-Man taunted, jumping onto the hydrant. Hydro-Havoc, enraged and not thinking clearly--which, to be fair, was a lot to ask from a sentient puddle--followed in a rushing, mighty stream. "This is just like those fire drills, but way weirder," Spider-Man muttered. As the villain reared up, preparing to engulf him, Spider-Man made a show of bracing himself. But instead of his usual combat stance, he turned around, pulled down his costume just enough to expose his behind, and aimed it at Hydro-Havoc. "Hope you've got a nose in there somewhere, because you're about to take in the worst tsunami of all!" Spider-Man declared. With the heroism of a dozen epic sagas and the maturity of a fourth-grade slumber party, Spider-Man let out a tremendous fart directly into the incoming wave. The effect was instant and catastrophic--for Hydro-Havoc. The water villain bubbled and churned, its once-clear mass turning a sickly green. "What foulness is this?!" it wailed, its voice gurgling even more than usual. "Biological warfare, my aqueous adversary," Spider-Man quipped, pulling his pants back up with the dignity of someone who hadn't just used flatulence as a weapon. Hydro-Havoc tried to retaliate, but the stench was overpowering. Bits of the villain started to disintegrate, dissolving like sugar in hot tea. In a matter of moments, all that remained was a puddle of what might have been water once but was now just a small, smelly patch on the ground. Spider-Man surveyed his work, hands on his hips. "Well, that's one way to 'clear the air,'" he joked to himself. As he swung away, leaving the scene behind, he couldnaped, "Maybe next time, I'll just stick to the plumber joke." New York City had been saved once again, albeit in a manner that most would agree was best left out of the official histories. The tale of Spider-Man's unorthodox victory over Hydro-Havoc would live on, whispered in the alleys and rooftops with a mix of admiration and mild disgust.