[Peter]
The city skyline, a mosaic of glass and steel reaching for the bruised twilight sky, stretched beneath me. Tonight, the air was crisp, carrying the distant wail of sirens – the usual urban sound. My spider-sense, that familiar, low hum at the back of my skull, had been quiet for hours, a welcome reprieve. I was halfway through mentally composing a grocery list for Aunt May (milk, eggs, that weird bran cereal she liked that tasted like cardboard and regret) when the hum intensified, just a whisper at first, then a persistent, almost irritating thrum.
It wasn't the frantic, blaring alarm that signaled immediate danger, more like a subtle unease, a wrong note in the city's hum. I stopped, perched precariously on a Gargoyle's head overlooking a particularly busy arterial road. My eyes, enhanced by the suit's lenses, scanned the flow of traffic below. Nothing obvious. No muggings, no speeding cars. Just the usual gridlock. The feeling persisted, a cold prickle on my skin. I focused, letting my unique senses sift through the noise. Then I saw it.
It wasn't flashy. No chase lights, no blaring sirens. Just a convoy of three dark, heavy-duty armored vehicles, moving with an almost unnatural precision through the chaos. Unmarked. That was the first red flag. Military-grade, civilian roads. Second red flag. My spider-sense kept its low, insistent vibration, a quiet but firm warning. This wasn't just odd; this was wrong. My gut twisted.
Just last week, the Daily Bugle, in its typical sensationalist fashion, had run a front-page exposé on a series of high-tech heists across the tri-state area. Robotics labs, energy research facilities, corporate R&D divisions – all hit with surgical precision. No casualties, minimal collateral damage, just very specific, very advanced prototypes vanishing without a trace. The police were baffled. The media called it the work of a "new player in town," some kind of phantom thief with a penchant for high-grade experimental tech. J. Jonah Jameson had, of course, blamed me for not stopping them, even before anyone knew who "they" were. Classic JJJ.
A familiar knot tightened in my stomach. It was the same feeling I got every time something slipped through my fingers, every time I saw a news report about a threat I hadn't spotted, hadn't stopped. This convoy, this faint spider-sense warning – it felt like a test, a chance to make good on that promise with Whitney. Or, worse, another opportunity to mess it up.
So, I dropped. Not to the street, not yet, but into the shadows, swinging low, keeping pace with the unmarked vehicles. The wind whipped past my ears, the city lights blurred into streaks, but my focus remained locked on the dark grey behemoths below.
"Alright, Peter, think," I muttered to myself, the voice muffled by my mask. "Unmarked military vehicles. Mid-week. Night. Destination unknown. Likely suspects: bad guys. Maybe even really bad guys. The ones who don't just rob banks, but fund their villainous empires with stolen Stark Industries prototypes."
A sardonic laugh escaped me, more a nervous tic than genuine amusement. My phone vibrated then, a text from Harry. "Dude, finished that side quest in the game. You wanna hop on?" I almost laughed. Some days, I really wanted to.
The convoy, oblivious to my aerial surveillance, continued its methodical journey deeper into the city's industrial periphery. The buildings grew grimmer, the streetlights sparser, the air thicker with the scent of exhaust and damp concrete. My spider-sense, which had momentarily faded to just a background hum, began to pulse again, growing stronger with every block. We were getting closer to… something.
Then, the lead vehicle, slow and heavy, entered the mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel. The air grew suddenly cold, damp, and the dull roar of traffic was amplified, echoing off the concrete walls. This was it. My spider-sense was screaming now, a full-blown siren of warning.
And just like that, the world exploded into action.
From the dark, shadowed ceiling of the tunnel, a figure dropped. Not swung, not flew, just dropped, like a silent, deadly stone. She was sleek, almost ethereal, cloaked in what looked like a shimmering, iridescent light that pulsed with an internal energy – a forcefield, I realized with a jolt.
The instant her feet touched the tunnel floor, the shimmering light around her flared outwards, accompanied by a sharp, almost silent thump. An EMP burst. It hit the lead armored vehicle first, instantly silencing its engine, plunging its interior into darkness. The following vehicles screeched to a halt, their drivers jarringly unprepared. There was no chaos, no panicked shouts from the attackers – because there was no one else. Just her.
She moved with an unnerving grace. Her arms, I saw now, were subtly augmented, with a metallic sheen beneath her skin-tight suit – cybernetic, giving her enhanced strength. She didn't bother with breaching tools. With a single, fluid motion, she grasped the side compartment of the lead vehicle, the one usually reserved for highly sensitive cargo, and ripped it open. The reinforced steel groaned and tore like wet cardboard.
This was work. Precise, silent, confident. She was a professional. My spider-sense was going absolutely ballistic, a frantic drumbeat against my eardrums, but she wasn't even looking at me. She wasn't looking for me at all. Her focus was entirely on the contents of the ripped-open compartment – a glowing, pulsating energy module, humming with raw power.
As her augmented hand reached for the module, I launched myself from the tunnel ceiling. This is it, Peter. No pressure. Just, you know, stopping a hyper-competent super-thief from stealing something probably super dangerous and important.
I landed perfectly, a silent crouch, just behind her. My voice, usually a little higher-pitched when I was nervous, came out with a forced cheerfulness. "You know, stealing from Stark, or anyone carrying something that glows that much, usually comes with a side of webbing. And a very stern talking-to from a guy in red and blue."
She didn't flinch. Not a muscle twitched in her back. No surprise, no hesitation. She slowly turned, her head tilting slightly, like a predator assessing prey. Her eyes, hidden behind an opaque visor, gave nothing away. The shimmering forcefield around her pulsed brighter for a moment.
"I'm not here to play dress-up, Spider-Man," her voice was calm, modulated, utterly devoid of emotion. "Step aside."
Her tone was a flat command, not a plea, not a warning, just a statement of fact. It chilled me more than any villainous cackle. This wasn't her first rodeo. This wasn't even her first Tuesday. For a second, I entertained the thought that she might actually be bored by my presence. That grated on my already frayed nerves.
"Look, I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants," I quipped, launching a web-line at the glowing energy module in the compartment, aiming to snatch it before she could. "But 'what she wants' can't be 'stolen Stark tech.' It's a whole thing. Penalties, fines, eventually an ugly orange jumpsuit. Not a great look for you, honestly."
The web-line shot forward, sticky and strong, and wrapped itself around the module. I yanked. The tech came free, but just as it did, her shimmering forcefield flared to full power. The module, caught in my webbing, slammed into the glowing barrier around her, and instead of hitting her, or even making her stumble, it simply bounced. The impact was deflected, like hitting a solid wall of pure energy. My eyes widened under the mask. I hadn't expected that. Most forcefields crackle or groan under impact. Hers just… absorbed it. And then returned it.
The module, still caught in my web, ricocheted back towards me, pulling my arm out, almost making me lose my balance. Before I could process the surprise, a blast of concussive force exploded from her outstretched palm. It wasn't a visible energy beam, but a wave of pure kinetic force that slammed into my chest.
Air rushed from my lungs. The impact threw me backwards, sending me skidding across the grimy tunnel floor. My skull smacked against the concrete with a jarring thud, even through the padding of my mask. Stars danced in my vision for a split second, and the spider-sense shrieked in protest.
"Okay," I groaned, pushing myself up, my ribs aching, "that was rude."
She wasn't waiting. The module, still wrapped in my webbing, had been knocked free and rolled a few feet away. Aura moved, not towards me, but towards the rolling tech. She was focused, relentless.
I launched myself after her, adrenaline overriding the pain. The chase was on. Through the tunnel, past the stalled vehicles, their drivers still disoriented or unconscious. She moved with uncanny speed, weaving through the narrow gaps, occasionally firing another concussive blast that I had to dodge, or slamming a cybernetically enhanced fist into a support pillar, sending chunks of concrete raining down. Each move was calculated, designed to slow me, to create an obstacle.
The tunnel spat us out into a massive construction zone, a skeletal forest of rebar and scaffolding under the harsh glare of floodlights. Dust billowed around us, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh welding. I used the verticality to my advantage, scrambling up a steel girder, trying to get above her, to get a better angle.
She was below, still moving, still focused on escaping with the tech. I swung down, intending to cut her off, but she anticipated it. With a low growl, she delivered a powerful kick to the base of a towering, rickety scaffold I was about to swing past. The impact reverberated through the steel, and with a groan of stressed metal, the entire structure began to collapse.
A chorus of creaking, groaning steel, then the deafening roar of twisting metal and falling debris. My spider-sense went from a scream to a full-blown panic attack. I yanked hard on my web-line, swinging wildly, narrowly avoiding a cascade of steel pipes and wooden planks that crashed down where I'd been a moment before. Dust mushroomed around me, choking the air.
I landed heavily on a precariously balanced beam, wiping dust from my lenses. Through the haze, I saw her, a shimmering outline, already a good fifty feet away, disappearing around a stack of concrete barriers, the glowing module clutched in her hand.
I wasn't going to give up this easily.