[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/oQJAsoY.png?1[/img][/center] [color=ec008c][b]“Come on, come on, come on,”[/b][/color] I mutter to myself as I swing through the city, the cold, winter air rushing around me. The only thing keeping me from freezing being the new winterized suit Peter cooked up for me. Swinging in Under Armor really, really helps. It’s no wonder all the football players wear it. It really is that great. I mean I’m still cold as hell, but at least I’m not dangerously cold as hell. Big difference. No, I am not sponsored by Under Armor now. Why ever would you ask? The truck I’m chasing must be going eighty on New York roads. They’ve already driven over a few curbs to get around traffic, making me swoop down to get people out of the way. It’s a miracle no one has been killed. I know why they’re moving so fast, too. They’re carrying a shipment of a brand new drug on the streets of New York. It’s a powerful, addictive, and effective opioid that promises no chance of an overdose. So far it’s worked perfectly. No overdoses from it have been reported, which would be a miracle if it wasn’t also creating a plague of new addictions. Whoever designed the drug could be making millions as a hero if they were designing drugs to help people, but they clearly have no desire to do that. Instead, they’re trying to rot the populace of New York. The street name is Ink, named after its supplier, known only as the Octopus. So far I’ve got a grand total of zero leads on who the new mystery drug kingpin is. Every goon I capture running the stuff swears up and down that they’ve never met the guy that makes it. Only that a pretty woman delivers it, along with Flint Marko, the Sandman. Sandman did say the last time we met up that he was no longer working for the Maggia. I guess the Octopus, whoever he is, was setting up his ring in New York months ago. I don’t know why the villains I fight all go for the eight-legged creatures thing. I might have to sue for tarnishing my public brand. So far that drug hasn’t spread outside the city, but that’ll happen. It’s only a matter of time before it does, of course. The demand is through the roof here. Once it goes national, or international, it’s going to be the biggest narcotic on the market. I can’t let that happen. My spider sense goes off, and I just manage to twist in midair to get out of the way of a bullet fired from the truck bellow. I hate when they shoot at me like that. One, it has never worked. You’d think they’d learn after the first hundred times. Two, it puts bystanders in danger, and I cannot have that. Catapulting myself out of a swing, I fold up into a headfirst dive towards the truck. Missiling in, I fire a web to the top of the truck and pull myself in, landing in a rolling stop on the speeding vehicle. As I make my way to the front, my phone goes off, [color=ec008c][b]“Hello?”[/b][/color] [color=f26522]“Gwendolyn Stacy where the hell are you?”[/color] Mary Jane’s voice comes over the other end, and I wince. [color=f26522]“We are on in FIFTEEN MINUTES! I swear if you mess this up for us.”[/color] We have a concert. A concert that could get us a standing gig at a bar in Queens. That could get us money, but more importantly, it could get us some major exposure. That’s something the girls are definitely thirsty for. Fifteen minutes though? I can make it. [color=ec008c][b]“Sorry MJ! I’m on my way now. Thought my dad was gonna drive me but work pulled him away at the last minute. I’ll make it!”[/b][/color] [color=f26522]“Yea, it sounds like you’re going really fast?”[/color] [color=ec008c][b]“Yea, this Uber driver is nuts!”[/b][/color] I yell as one of the men in the cab tries to climb up on the top with me to shoot my way. Instead I rip the gun out of his hand with a webline, close the distance, kick him off the roof, and web him to the wall of the passing building. I wave as he shrinks into the distance, struggling against the sticky substance. [color=ec008c][b]“Anyway, I gotta go. See you soon.”[/b][/color] I flip onto the hood of the cab, surprising the driver. He leans out of his window, brandishing a handgun. I stop it up with some webbing, also causing his hand to get stuck to the outside of the door. [color=ec008c][b]“Two hands on the wheel, man!”[/b][/color] I respond, climbing down to the grill of the truck. [color=ec008c][b]“Ten and two! Ten and two! I live in New York and even I know that!”[/b][/color] Using my strength, I pry the hood up, giving me a look at the engine. Not being the mechanical genius Peter is, I simply just start filling the engine with webbing. Before long, it sputters and dies. The truck slows to a stop, and I hop off. [color=ec008c][b]“Well...that was easy.”[/b][/color] That’s when a beeping warning goes off in my ears. [color=ec008c][b]“I just had to say that, didn’t I?”[/b][/color] I sigh and start swinging, knowing what that warning means. [i]“Goblin patrol incoming,”[/i] an electronic voice comes over the comms. [color=ec008c][b]“Thanks, WEB,”[/b][/color] I respond, looking over my shoulder. WEB, or “Wireless Electronic Beacon”, is something Peter hooked up in the month since Mayor-elect Calvin Cassidy called on the lame duck he is replacing to allow the Oscorp Goblin robots to patrol the city. Cassidy might not have taken office yet, but his vehemently anti-superhero stance is already infecting everything. Dad’s been taken off the anti-metahuman task force completely. Cassidy will name his successor when he takes office. Dad is back to being a detective. The smear campaign against him run by J Jonah Jameson was as effective as it could have been. I’m now the police force’s public enemy number one. Not the rising criminal element in the city, not the Octopus. Nope. Little old me. The characteristic whir of the Goblin’s gliders fill the air behind me as I leave the scene of the truck. Looking over my shoulder, I see two of the robots descend onto the scene, and breath a sigh of relief as I see that they’re not following me. Probably because a third one is floating almost directly in front of me. It flings two energy boomerangs my way, which slice through my web. It would send me tumbling towards the street if I wasn’t already ready for it. The Goblins are strong, and heavily armed, but they’re predictable. Being robots kind of play into that. If they get their hands on you, they can do damage, but if you can manage to out run them, you’ll be fine. Luckily, they can’t keep up with me for shit. I allow myself to tumble downwards, drawing the Goblin down into a dive. It follow me and as it does I use its chest as a point to swing off of, sending it into a spiral while I’m vaulted down the street at a high speed. By the time the Goblin self regulates, I’m two blocks down. The gliders they stand on are fast, though. He’ll be able to catch up to me. Which is why I swing down low. It confuses their targeting, and the city council made sure they can’t fire anywhere near the citizens of New York. I guess it’s the small miracles that really matter in the long run. I swing between traffic, waving to surprised drivers as I do. I may be running for my life, but hey, I can still be friendly. Taking a sharp turn, I can see the Goblin whiz by behind me as the phone rings again, [color=ec008c][b]“Hello?”[/b][/color] [color=0054a6]“Gwen? I saw WEB sent out an alert. You okay?”[/color] Peter’s worried voice comes over the line. [color=ec008c][b]“Hey, babe. Yea, managed to ditch the chrome domes before any real fighting. I do not have time to dance with Norman’s science projects,”[/b][/color] I respond as I make my way towards the concert venue. [color=0054a6]“Yea, well, MJ might be your bigger worry,”[/color] he mutters. [color=0054a6]“She’s on the warpath.”[/color] [color=ec008c][b]“Try and calm her down, I’ll be there in a minute.”[/b][/color] That is, of course, until something else pops up on my way. Something always does. [center]**********[/center] The slight rumble of his idling car engine shakes George Stacy’s styrofoam coffee cup in the cupholder. He watches as small waves form in the muddy brown sea inside the cup, which is about the extent of the action he’d probably see tonight. Since he’s been kicked down the chain of command, all the way back down to narcotics, he’s barely had a case come his way. The NYPD’s obsession with Spider-Woman has taken over like a virus. Norman Osborn’s cashflow has turned their noses from the crimes that actually matter towards Spider-Woman. Spider-Woman. Gwen. His daughter. His daughter who fights crime wearing a mask and with super powers at her disposal. He still can’t believe it sometimes. He wrestled with it, for a time. Vigilantism is something he normally never would have supported. But Gwen is right when she says super powered threats are going to turn up in New York. And if she doesn’t try and stop them, people will die. That doesn’t mean he’s not worried for her, of course. Every time he sees her put on that mask and put her hood over her head, he worries it’ll be the last time he sees his daughter’s face alive. It puts a pit in his stomach. But he realizes it’s probably how she felt when he put on a badge. He puts his hand in his jacket pocket and runs his thumb over that badge. He hasn’t been looking at it the same since all of this started going down. He had never been one to question the badge before. Always thought of the incorruptible power of the law. But ever since Gwen became public enemy number one, he’s seen behavior he never would have dreamed of. Bounties being place. Revenge spoken about openly. Maybe it’s that he’s heard about how bad Gotham PD is from Jim for so long. Maybe it blinded him to the rot that was happening right below his nose all this time. Or maybe he’d gone soft. He downs the rest of the warm coffee, and puts the car into drive. If his superiors aren’t interested in what’s going on in this city, at least he can help his daughter fix things. The thought draws a chuckle from his lips as he drives into the New York City night. [center]**********[/center] [color=f26522]“What took you so long!?”[/color] Mary Jane fumes at me as I enter the dressing room, probably looking like hell after changing out of my costume in the alleyway. [color=f26522]“We have to go on!”[/color] [color=ec008c]“I’m here, aren’t I. I’m ready to go,”[/color] I shrug and throw my pack into the dressing room, pulling my drumsticks out of it as I do. [color=f26522]“Uh, no, you’re not,”[/color] MJ growls. Which is when I noticed she’s dressed in a very short Santa coat, complete with hat, and Glory and Betty are in Elf getups. Betty, who looks absolutely thrilled, deadpans, [color=f6989d]“Yes, Gwendolyn. Look at all the fun your missing.”[/color] [color=ec008c]“You have to be kidding me,”[/color] I look sideways at MJ. [color=f26522]“It’s a Christmas concert, Gwen,”[/color] MJ is clearly not in the mood for insubordination today. Normally she’s a dictator, but not to this degree. [color=f26522]“Harry and his dad are out there. I want to put on a good show.”[/color] And there it is. Daddy Warbucks and the dark prince are in attendance, meaning ice queen MJ is in full effect. In the months since his dad declared all-out war on me, Harry’s become a bit of a prick. Norman’s new mechanical men have been all the rage with third world dictators in the guise of “protecting their citizens”. More money has since flowed into Oscorp, and more hot air has infiltrated Harry’s cranium. Harry’s always been a little conceited, but it comes with a territory. This is different. He’s been acting like he’s better than people now, something he’s never done before. And his pompous assholery is starting to affect MJ, which is totally not cool. But I do want to play this show. And I want us to get the gig. So I guess I’m dressing up like an elf. [center]**********[/center] [color=0054a6]“It was a great show,”[/color] Peter smiles as we walk home hand-in-hand. [color=0054a6]“You’re for sure getting the residency. The owner was loving you guys.”[/color] [color=ec008c]“Hopefully he was loving us and not how much leg MJ was showing,”[/color] I scoff, looking up at the December night sky. [color=ec008c]“I’m sure Harry was thrilled about that.”[/color] He goes quiet, and I know he’s noticed the friction between me and the other two recently. [color=ec008c]“Listen, I’m sorry about that,”[/color] I start. [color=ec008c]“Things have been weird recently and it’s getting to me.”[/color] [color=0054a6]“I don’t blame you,”[/color] he shrugs. [color=0054a6]“Harry’s been a dick ever since the election. Like he’s the mayor or something.”[/color] [color=ec008c]“Right!?”[/color] I look over at him. [color=ec008c]“And MJ is acting like a total trophy wife instead of the kickass chick we’ve known forever.”[/color] [color=0054a6]“I just hope it calms down.”[/color] I wince, [color=ec008c]“In my experience as a superhero, it is always a terrible idea to say something like that.”[/color] [color=0054a6]“Yea, well, hopefully I don’t have the same luck,”[/color] he smiles as we reach his house. [color=0054a6]“You...want to come in?”[/color] [color=ec008c]"Yea, that luck you just mentioned? Don't push it,"[/color] I joke.[color=ec008c]“Not tonight. I’m beat after the whole truck thing.”[/color] [color=0054a6]“Okay,”[/color] he says before we share a kiss. [color=0054a6]“Sleep well.”[/color] [color=ec008c]“You too. Give May my love.”[/color] The words still feel sour in my mouth whenever I say that. After my encounter with the Surfer, I have to figure I'm high on Darkseid's hitlist, which has brought up my guilt in dating Peter in the first place. I could be putting him in the cross hairs of some intergalactic tyrant god. Oh, what a tangled web I weave.