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[indent][b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cno20onK9dY]SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE[/url][/b][/indent]
[indent][b]Issue 7.1[/b][/indent]
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[indent][b]New York City, NY --- Outside the 105th Precinct[/b][/indent]
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[quote=@DocTachyon]
[i]Last time, on the Adventures of The Indomitable Spider-Man...[/i]

The fourth floor. Peter stumbled into the hallway and yanked down the nearest alarm with a glout of webs. It shattered against the ground and the wiring sparked. There were two figures by the far end of the hall, vigil over the window he came in through. One was decked out in riot gear, complete with a clear plastic shield. The other levelled a gun at him.

“Stop right there, son. This ends, [i]now[/i].” The officer pumped the end of his weapon. Shotgun… Right? Peter shook his head. He pointed one hand forward.

[color=#507de5]“You’d think that… Wouldn’tcha?”[/color] Webbing snatched over the head of the shotgun as the officer squeezed the trigger and it blew up in his hands, shot metal and wood particulate stabbing into him.

“Argh! Collins! Take him!” The officer screamed. The Riot cop squared his shoulders and charged. Peter stumbled and slapped against the wall. Webs bounced off the shield and the officer kept coming, low to the ground, ready for drive Peter through the wall. He looked up.

Peter sprang up and his hand caught on the ceiling. The metal skeleton of the drop ceiling collapsed and panels dropped across the floor, lights shaking and swaying as the metal frame crashed around them and over the Riot cop’s armored body. Peter moved as the cop shoved the debris off, staggering to his feet. Peter’s temples throbbed. [i]Little… More…[/i]

The cop brought his shield to bear and Peter kicked off the wall, driving his weight into the cop. He stumbled backwards and Peter dropped his shoulder, hitting him again. The plastic of the shield cracked.

“C’mon!” He shouted. He reached for a baton. He raised his shield up to catch another shoulder check. [i]Mistake.[/i] Peter’s leg swept beneath the shield and the cop collapsed under the weight of his armor. Peter made for the window.

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The glass broke across his body. Free.
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The foliage had all blended together into one senseless mass as Peter’s body slammed against the ground. He vaguely registered the grass tickling the soles of his suit as he staggered to his feet, setting off in an uneven run for the tree line. Gunshots zipped out of the windows of the Station behind him, thudding soundlessly into the ground as he ran. The report of the shots rippled through his head, tiny explosions bursting in his eardrums.

[color=#507de5]“C’mon, Pete, you’re almost…”[/color] Another wave of nausea washed over him, bile in his gut jumping up like the plumes of dirt around him. [i]Ugh… Escape now, quip later.[/i] He bounded forward and slipped on a patch of grass, his head hit the ground and sparks crackled across his vision. He groaned and pulled himself forward anyway. His fingers plowed into the earth and he pulled, dragging himself forward, trying to will his knees beneath him to make himself to stand.

[i]What… Happened?[/i] Peter tasted yesterday’s cheese puffs at the back of his throat and gulped it back down as he stumbled into the cover of the treeline, lurching behind what looked like a messy brown blob of bark. The shots were quieting now, evidently they were looking for other ways to catch a spider. Peter turned his palms over and looked down -- the very fabric of the suit was vibrating, railing against the noise. It was like every element of his Spider-Sense was activating at once, he was aware of heartbeats and coffee scented breath and the thunderous beat pouring out of every orifice of the station.

He felt it as he took steady steps forward, niggling worms of his costumes wrapping around the between the fibers of his muscles, like the legs of burning ants, sequestering themselves down to the myofibril. The grass squished beneath his feet and he forced his eyes open, looking for a getaway.

The light of the moon scorched his retinas but he kept his eyelids open. He couldn’t tell whether there was rain clouding his vision or not, the sky had become like TV static, fizzling in and out of a vaguely blueshifted color. He tried to blink it from his eyes as he kept going, slowly starting to feel the crunch of asphalt beneath his feet. He looked down and the faded yellow line of the road winked back at him.

He shuddered as he sucked in another breath, sharp and violent against his lungs. His grip tightened around his duffle, he pulled the canvas fabric closer. Sirens began their wail in the distance, red and blue light bouncing off into the shattered static of the sky. He could feel the sound of it in his core, baying for his blood. His muscles protested with every step forward, screaming at every rise and every fall, as if his body weighed thousands of pounds. At least he had his web. The fluid of it was bulging in minute sacs along his forearms, warm against his flesh.

[i]Just a few blocks, Pete… You got this…[/i]