182. Eden Above, Asphalt Below. (Patreon)

Gwen POV:

New York looked unreal from above.

I swung through the skyline, webline singing as it snapped free from one skyscraper and latched onto the next. Every tower, every high-rise, every slab of glass and steel had been softened by green. Hydroponic berths spilling over edges, flowering vines crawling up facades, tomatoes and strawberries growing three hundred feet above traffic.

From up here, the city looked like a reborn Eden. A living tapestry of green threaded through steel, glass and light.

Down below? Same old New York.

Same horns. Same sirens. Same impatience and hunger and desperation hiding beneath high-tech billboards and augmented-reality ads.

My Mk. II suit chimed softly as the police scanner cut in, crisp and professional.

“All units, all units, stand by for priority broadcast. Manhattan Precinct advises: Robbery in progress. Armed assailant has commandeered an Oscorp armored transport vehicle. Cargo classified as biohazard-level material. Suspect is heavily armed. Use extreme caution. Air support en route.”

I grinned beneath the mask.

“Well,” I murmured, pushing off the Empire State Building, “that sounds like a party.”

I leapt.

The city rushed up to meet me, wind screaming past my ears. The Mk. II could engage micro-gravity flight whenever I wanted but swinging was fun. Swinging reminded me why I did this in the first place.

I spotted the truck three blocks later.

An Oscorp armored transport, tires screaming, plowing through traffic like physics was a cookbook rather than a rule. Police cars trailed behind it, lights flashing, officers wisely keeping their distance.

I landed on the driver’s side door with a solid thump and knocked politely on the reinforced glass.

Tap tap.

The response was immediate.

An MP5 barked to life, bullets slamming into my mask in a deafening staccato. The kinetic absorption of Vibranium-S hummed as the rounds flattened and fell away like sad little pebbles.

I leaned closer, peering through the spiderwebbed glass.

“Aleksei Sytsevich,” I said brightly. “Hey! How’s the family? And how’s the Rhino armor I disassembled using the very suit I’m wearing right now?”

His face twisted red with rage.

“They’re dead!” he screamed. “Been dead for ten years, bitch! Also, fuck you!”

More bullets. Still not moving.

Eventually, the MP5 sputtered.

Click.

Click-click.

The gun jammed.

I tilted my head. “Oh no. That’s awkward.”

Aleksei shook the weapon, swore in Russian, smacked the side of it on the dashboard.

“Okay,” I said helpfully, “have you tried turning it off and on again?”

He roared and yanked the charging handle.

“Sometimes it’s a spring issue,” I continued. “Or maybe the feed ramp’s dirty. Do you clean your weapons regularly? No judgment. We’re all busy.”

He slammed the gun against the dashboard again.

“Could also be user error.” I added. “Stress can do that. Deep breaths. In through the nose...”

He tried to swing the MP5 at me. But there was just one problem.

“Uh,” I said gently, “Aleksei? That model doesn’t have a buttstock.”

He stared at the useless rear of the gun for a few seconds and then screamed.

Before I could continue my unsolicited firearm seminar, my suit’s sensors spiked.

Threat alert.

Fifty feet ahead.

I glanced up and saw a middle-aged man on the sidewalk, glasses slipping off his face, blueprints spilling everywhere. He was directly in the truck’s path.

“Time-out.” I told Aleksei. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I launched.

Maxwell “Max” Dillon POV:

I was late.

That was the only coherent thought in my head as I hurried down the sidewalk, clutching my blueprints like they were oxygen. Oscorp didn’t even do strict deadlines anymore but my brain didn’t care it screamed late anyway.

Oscorp wasn’t what it used to be. Everyone knew that. Parker Industries, Stark, The Wakandan Outreach those were the giants now.

Still… it mattered to me.

I tripped.

Of course I tripped.

My glasses flew off. Blueprints scattered across the concrete like wounded birds. I dropped to my knees, heart hammering, fumbling blindly.

Then...

I was yanked sideways.

Hard.

Webbing snapped tight around my torso and wrists, pulling me clear of the street just as something massive thundered past where I’d been kneeling.

I blinked, stunned.

A woman stood in front of me. White and black armor. Pink accents. Mask with expressive lenses.

Spider-Woman.

“Hey,” She said gently. “You okay?”

I nodded too fast. “Y..Yeah. Yeah. I mean, yeah. You’re... You’re Spider-Woman.”

She glanced down at my ID badge. “Max Dillon. Oscorp.”

She brushed dust off my shoulders, straightened my tie like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Max,” She said warmly, “you’re important. Everyone in this city is important to me. I might not remember every name but I remember the gratitude.”

She handed me my blueprints, neatly web-wrapped into a tidy roll. "They dissolve in an hour by the way."

Then she fired a webline at the speeding truck and let it drag her away.

I watched, breathless, as she landed back on the front of the vehicle, hardlight webs firing out in glowing arcs. The truck screeched to a halt like it had hit an invisible wall.

Seconds later, the driver was airborne.

Spider-Woman disarmed him, flipped him upside down and cocooned him against a lamppost just as he reached for a glowing vial of what according to the label is plutonium.

She landed, dusted her hands off and high-fived two stunned cops.

Then she swung away.

I stood there, clutching my blueprints, heart pounding.

I was going to be late but I couldn't bring myself to care anymore. Because something incredible happened to me. I MET SPIDER-WOMAN!!!!!