[color=darkgray]I'm free-falling to earth, tumbling end over end in an uncontrolled spin. That special sense I have is blaring in my head like the half-time buzzer at Midtown High. My own momentum has me trapped in a way that even if I could see which way was up, 'up' wouldn't remain 'up' long enough for it to mean anything. The only way hafway reliable thing I have to keep track of my bearings before the ground rushes up to meet me is that special sense... and like I said, it's so loud right now it's hard to cut through the fog. I wonder if that Devil they have down in Hell's Kitchen ever has to deal with things like this. I have time to wonder that, because of how high I'm falling from. I'm about to pass some of the tops of the larger supertall skyscrapers now. So if I'm going to live through this, I'd better start to get my wits about me now. I'd be below One World Trade Center. But seeing as how I'm falling on Midtown that's not much good to me now. Central Park Tower. I throw out an arm and thwip blind. The webline catches nothing but sky, as I keep spinning out of control. Which does nothing to quiet that sense I was telling you about. Not gonna lie, that one was a hope and a prayer in the first place, for its distance. I throw out a line to One Vanderbilt. I tag it, but not well. Well enough to pull myself back on balance and stop spinning though. If I slow down at all it's negligible. But that's okay. You're upright now. You can do this. You're not gonna die. The trumming in my head eases off as the fog lifts a little. I throw out another line and the light on my wrist blares red and it makes a noise as it ejects the last of its web-fluid in a line which barely hits another skyscraper. I try to make the most of it, but the frittering line flies from my grasp. [color=dodgerblue][b]"That ain't good..."[/b][/color] The sense blares again. But fortunately... two hands, two web-shooters. It's only nervous panic and I fight through the thrumm, and take aim with my other wrist. My webline strikes true and both it and my grasp holds. I pull myself taut with my other hand, making it useful regardless of it's lack of remaining webbing. I throw out another line and-- Once again, the red light blares and the noise repeats. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Oh, you have gotta be kidding me--"[/b][/color] I manage to keep my grasp of what little webline is produced and hold my swing to get what use I can from it. The thrumming eases and with it I can regain my senses for my predicament. I feel it before I see it. The sense tells me of a previous webline I used when I was swinging around in pursuit in the first place. Blowing in the breeze. I focus on my breathing to clear the sense as much as I can. [i]I really should figure out how to change these web-cartridges one-handed on the fly... Nope. Doesn't help. Not useful now. Focus Parker. You're going to let go of this line and leap through the air and grab that other webline. ...while it blows in the breeze. Almost a thousand feet off the ground.[/i] I time my jump to give me the most wiggle-room possible. The wind tries to blow it clear, but my hand manages to strike true. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Oh thank God. Oh man... OhIthoughtIwasGonnaDieThere..."[/b][/color] I use the webline to swing around the building, and pull myself up to a solid ledge. With shaking hands I reach to my belt and quickly replace the web-cartridge in my right hand. I grab another cartridge for my left and suddenly the sense blares like a klaxon. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Oh c'mon, what now--hoik!"[/b][/color] I manage to get out as the web cartridge falls to earth. I'm hauled skywards once again by the lunatic in his green winged monstrosity. [color=dodgerblue][b]"What, we've got two-for-one offers on all spider-buzzard related fights today?"[/b][/color] Not wasting any time I take out a fresh cartridge and snap it into my left web-shooter. [i]How do I get myself into these things..?[/i] [/color] [hr] [center][img]https://www.thebanner.org/sites/default/files/styles/article_detail_header/public/TIN-602%20Spiderman_Homecoming_large_all.jpg?itok=28Cw_kpr[/img][/center] [sup][h1][b][center][color=darkblue] S P I D E R - M A N[/color] [color=crimson]S P I D E R - M A N[/color][/center][/b][/h1][/sup][hr] [color=darkgray]It all started when I was out on assignment for the [i]Bugle[/i]. ... ...alright, it all started when I [b]put myself[/b] on assignment for the [i]Bugle[/i]. I may have been feeling myself a little and thought I'd try my luck and my new press credentials to get into a Tech show for a local start-up made good - [i]Bestman and Toomes[/i]. [color=dodgerblue]"Peter Parker. Daily Bugle."[/color] [color=khaki]"Uh-huh. And they should have provided you with a press pass, buddy. Which says that. So I'm not expected to just take your word for it."[/color] Which I would have if I actually went down to the offices like I said I was going to, gave them my paper work and actually picked up my press credentials. Before I decided to try out those press credentials I hadn't even physically laid hands on yet. Live and learn. [color=dodgerblue]"Umm... I-- must have left it in my other pants. If you call them up, they'll confirm it though. I'm theiir new Science and Technology--"[/color] [color=khaki]"Yeah, I'm not calling nobody. See, pal, even if I were to believe that you left it in your other pants, kid... which I don't. This sounds very much like a 'you' problem and not a 'me' problem."[/color] [i]I love New York.[/i] [color=dodgerblue]"Look, I'm not kidding. I work for the Bugle. I need to get in there. Can you just--"[/color] [color=khaki]"Twenty bucks."[/color] [i]Oh. I see. The 'other' Press Pass. Accepted more places than American Express.[/i] [color=khaki]"...and you're not going down the front with the rest of the press. You're hanging back by the door with me. If it turns out I let you in and you're not press, could be my ass."[/color] I reach for my wallet, and somehow find a twenty before moths fly out. [color=dodgerblue]"So long as I can see and hear, that's fine."[/color] [hr] [i]Bestman and Toomes[/i] began as a small engineering startup out of Newark. A story of two local hometown boys, made good. Their work in electromagnetic generators promised to cut down considerably on the emissions of backup generators and increase efficiency across the board. They also were working on early proposals for converting the MTA New York City transit system to Maglev technology throughout the subway lines. It would be by far the biggest infrastructure project the burgeoning startup had ever undertaken, and the city would likely want to see a few more success stories before handing such an enormous undertaking to the local pair. Afterall, this city may love its own, but New York expects. Which is what this was about now. Their latest release. They were targeting a niche market with new personal devices and data storage units for the commercial and corporate sector. It was a tricky bullseye to hit. The market for personal devices was fairly settled and it was difficult to enter. They were relying on the efficiency standards to appeal to a greener market and companies looking to hit greener targets that were now being brought in. Anything that could slice into that imprint without detracting from business in a meaningful fashion, and with a local release the pair hoped that sales trends might lead to a market spreading beyond the five boroughs as the product's usefulness and reputation spread. [hr] [color=salmon]"So it's all set up to specs as I asked?"[/color] [color=limegreen]"Well, yes, but remember what I said... Don't open too many applications at once, you're going to want to close them as you go, or it might lock-up as you're--"[/color] [color=salmon]"Wait-- You're telling me the product which I've repeatedly hassled you about, which you have assured me is ready for launch, might lock-up if our customers 'try to open too many apps'."[/color] [color=limegreen]"Our consumer-base its fine. It should fit their needs. But you don't want to go highlighting an issue at the launch. Tech-bloggers will have a fiel--"[/color] [color=salmon]"We're electromagnetic engineers. We work in data storage. And you're telling me there may be an issue with memory--"[/color] [color=limegreen]"It hits our consumer-base's needs specs that you provided. And I've told you this for weeks. RAM is not--"[/color] [color=salmon]"I can't believe I'm hearing this..."[/color] [color=limegreen]"And don't act like you're an electromagnetic engineer in the first place, Bestman..."[/color] His partner spat. [color=salmon]"And don't act like you have a creative bone in your body or the vision to see beyond your nose, Toomes."[/color] A dark glower crossed Adrian Toomes face. He'd done all of the work. Bestman fired ideas for features and applications with no technical nouse or know-how or even appreciable ability to determine whether his requests were actually possible, let alone how they could be executed in the first place. And there was funny business with the financial numbers. It wasn't Toomes forte, so he'd sought outside help to run a second more meaningful eye over the books, but Gregory Bestman had been making moves and manoeuvering. To what end Adrian still didn't know. But people in Bestman's position seldom did these things for any kind of benevolent or fair reason. Which was why Adrian took his own extreme precautions to protect himself in the only way he knew how, with the only tools he had ever had at his disposal... [hr] Peter's mouth was agape. Gregory Bestman was dead. Much was still to be uncovered, but it looked like he had tanked this product's launch, and had been making moves to redistribute the company's capital to a second [i]Bestman T. Electronics[/i] company of his own creation, with re-defined investment between his very irate partner. He'd tried to take the company right out from under him, after a solid loss which would make it more affordable. One he was going to look to blame on the hardware of his partner's design. And Toomes had snapped. Some of it might have seemed justifiable... if it weren't for the corpse, and the wounded bystanders in the press row. Peter slipped out the door at his back in the chaos, a masked figure returned. [color=dodgerblue][b]"I'll tell ya, that was just murder. Sorry I'm late. You know how it is though. It's always crazy, the lines for the latest generation product..."[/b][/color] [color=limegreen]"Who?"[/color] [color=dodgerblue][b]"Gotta say, you look more buzzard than owl with that beak of yours. But it's me. Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-man."[/b][/color] The dark glower returned over Toomes. His wings spread, and he turned to face the blue and red clad hero. [color=dodgerblue][b]"And as your local representative authority in all things friendly in this neighbourhood, THAT does not seem very friendly at all. No, sir."[/b][/color] He addressed the carnage at the front of the room. The green winged figure soared towards the newest source of its irritation with a scream. Peter hit him with both web-shooters without a real plan of what to do with the rapidly approaching figure once the threads hit him. They did little more than anger him further, as the figure grabbed Spider-man and drove him through the pull doors of the entrance. The green figure didn't have much more of a plan either, and threw him aside once he got out to the street, before flying away down the street. Peter shook himself off and threw a web-line up to swing off in pursuit. This would prove to not be much more of a plan either. Minutes later he'd be getting thrown from a height which small planes don't reach over the city. [hr] I look up at Toomes from his grip as he once again looks to control the terrain of the battleground, taking us skyward. [i]Think Peter, think. What are we looking at here?[/i] I run my eye over the contraption, presumably of his own design. Hard to believe you could buy kits of this kind of thing at Best Buy. It's wings are clearly designed with sharp edges. Not sure if that was a feature, but it's already shown practical use cutting my web-line once or twice, and I wouldn't want to let myself get caught by them either. [i]So... Sharp wings. Probably powered by some kind of electromagnetic generator, knowing the man. Electromagnetic. That, I can use...[/i] What that means, is that somewhere inside of this box, on the fetching green harness this batty buzzard is rocking. There's at least one magnet spinning rapidly on a coil... not unlike a certain Spider was several minutes ago... providing power by way of induction. So I stop that, well, he's effectively wearing an ugly Halloween costume and not much more. So let's stop that. [i]Ideally if I had a magnetic inverter, or some other kind of even more powerful magnet I could clean this thing up with no hassle at all.[/i] [color=dodgerblue][b]"But if ifs and buts were candy and nuts--"[/b][/color] [color=limegreen]"What?"[/color] [color=dodgerblue][b]"Oh nothing. Just had enough of the ride. Flaps."[/b][/color] I say, as I strike the front of his left wing with a webline and yank down forcefully, causing Toomes to stall his flight's ascent as he seeks to regain control after slicing through the webline. Well, that didn't do much. He's got too good a grip on me. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Let's try this again, with meaning this time. FLAPS!"[/b][/color] I yank harder, and keep pulling, trying to force him into a barrel roll. At this point we have enough altitude that we're in no danger of hitting anything. If last time was anything to go by, not far off of where he plans to throw me from. [color=limegreen]"You want me to let you go? Fine! Have a nice flight!"[/color] He growls, in frustration. I seize the opportunity, hit his other wing with a webline and use my momentum to swing onto his back. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Not just yet, Buzzard. I still have to get my baggage."[/b][/color] Using as much strength as I can muster, I throw a punch into the box and try to crush the panneling, doing whatever I can to expose the innerworkings. The panel buckles and I try to pry open the crack as best I can, but it barely budges. This'll have to do. Now or never. I aim my web-shooter into the box and pour it on. Clogging the mechanism and preventing induction. Within seconds the thrust has gone and I'm now riding a glider. [color=limegreen]"What have you done!? You've killed us both!"[/color] I get to work on wrapping up his arms and legs with web-line. He clearly doesn't need these to control the wings. [color=dodgerblue][b]"I've got to say, I find it really upsetting the lack of faith you seem to have in your local hero community. We really need a better class of villain. Do better."[/b][/color] I shoot a webline to the corner of each wing and lean back in the saddle. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Now pipe down. I don't have my pilot's licence, so this is probably going to take some level of concentration..."[/b][/color] We start what could only be described as a controlled descent under the most generous interpretations of the term. The man the media would come to call 'The Vulture' starts screaming at the rapid drop in altitude. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Stop screaming... Like I said, this is harder than it looks. Any more and I'm gonna have to put you down in the Hudson."[/b][/color] The screaming doesn't stop. [color=dodgerblue][b]"Alright. You called my bluff. Because I can't steer this thing at all."[/b][/color] After a singular inhale, the screaming gets louder still. We descend rapidly through the skyline of the city as the sun begins to set. I throw out a webline and catch a building, wrapping my arm around the screeching supervillain and whisk him away, choosing to go with a landing more in my own particular style. Behind my mask, I smile as I see a store selling variety goods. By the time the officers from the 86th Street Central Park Precinct get to the man hanging from the light post, with his harness covered in 'I Love New York' fridge magnets, the only evidence of how he got there is swinging away uptown. [i]I really should swing by the office while I'm in the city...[/i] [/color] [center][img]https://logos-world.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/Spider-Man-Emblem.png[/img][/center]