Amazing Spider-Man #328 (1990): “The Hulk Smash!” In the thunderous crescendo of Marvel’s late-1980s web-epic, Amazing Spider-Man #328 (cover-dated January 1990) erupts as a gamma-charged clash of titans, pitting Spidey’s agility against raw, unstoppable fury. David Michelinie scripts with seismic stakes, but Todd McFarlane—the web-slinging maestro—turns every page into a kinetic apocalypse of muscle and motion. Self-inked with ink-splattered, spidery frenzy, colored by Bob Sharen in gamma greens and urban grays, and lettered by Rick Parker in explosive bursts under Jim Salicrup’s edit, this issue is McFarlane’s masterpiece of urban destruction and claustrophobic combat. The cover—pure McFarlane mayhem—shows Spider-Man webbed to the Hulk’s fist, mid-swing through a collapsing skyscraper, the green goliath’s eyes blazing with primal rage. At the story’s gamma-irradiated core, Hulk (Bruce Banner) dominates as the featured juggernaut, his uncontrollable power a monstrous mirror to Spidey’s own inner turmoil.The tale detonates in Manhattan’s financial district. McFarlane’s splash page is a city-shaking nightmare: the Hulk—towering, purple-pants shredded—smashes through a bank vault, debris flying like shrapnel, alarms screaming. Michelinie’s caption booms: “When the strongest there is goes on a rampage… even Spider-Man may not be enough!” Banner, manipulated by a shady biotech firm (echoing Scorpion’s upgrade), is triggered into Hulk form to retrieve a stolen gamma device. McFarlane draws Peter’s arrival with cinematic dread: Spidey’s web-line zipping between buildings, Sharen shifting from corporate silvers to toxic greens.McFarlane’s genius is cataclysmic choreography. The battle is a 15-page demolition derby: Hulk’s fists cratering asphalt, Spidey dodging in impossible flips—McFarlane elongating his limbs into spider-like arcs, body twisting mid-air. One sequence—Hulk hurling a bus like a missile—uses extreme foreshortening, McFarlane’s cross-hatching so dense it feels like an earthquake, Sharen drenching the wreckage in gamma glow. Parker’s sound effects (“KRA-KOOM!” “SMASH!”) thunder like artillery.Hulk is the soul. Michelinie humanizes the beast: flashbacks (McFarlane’s sepia panels) show Banner’s torment—scientist cursed, lover lost, mind fractured. “Hulk just want to be left alone!” he roars, but the gamma device amplifies his rage. McFarlane draws Banner’s eyes—wild yet pleading—through the green visage, a Bronze Age gut-punch. Peter, strained by MJ’s fear and money woes, sees the parallel: “We’re both prisoners of the monster inside.”The climax detonates in a half-built tower. Hulk’s leap shatters floors—McFarlane’s double-page spread a whirlwind of steel and web-lines, Sharen inverting colors to blinding white. Spidey uses the gamma device against him, webbing it to Hulk’s chest and triggering a feedback loop. The overload stuns the beast—McFarlane draws the surge as crackling veins, Hulk collapsing in a crater. Spidey escapes as the tower implodes, but not before a final thunderclap crushes his web-shooters.The denouement is grim. Hulk reverts to Banner, dazed in the rubble—McFarlane drawing him frail, pants torn, eyes hollow. Peter limps away, MJ waiting with worry. Michelinie’s caption: “Some monsters never stay down.” A letters page raves about McFarlane’s “spaghetti webs” and Hulk’s pathos.This 22-page gamma apocalypse ($1.00) is peak McFarlane: brutal, visceral, mythic. Hulk reigns as unstoppable force; Todd McFarlane makes #328 a web-slinging war zone.