Find a handhold, a foothold--no! Arc like lightning, wrap yourself around rain and metal and glass, blind them all, shoot into the stratosphere--Consciousness. Welcome, almost, if she was in bed, staring at her dented wall, while everything was alright and May wasn’t doomed to die. Her head lolled forward, brain scrambling to make sense of the haze in her vision--no, it wasn’t her, it was whatever was containing her, fuzzy and green. She weakly made to stretch out her muscles, but they held fast where they hung, immobile, feeling suddenly much too stiff. She writhed weakly against her restraints, letting out an exhausted groan that quickly escalated into a long, frustrated scream.
She slumped down, and that’s when she saw
him. He’d popped open her belt, holding aloft the cubic inch of augmentium she’d stolen only a month ago. She could only stay there, unable to swing at him, while he turned it this way and that in the sterile lighting. He was speaking, and it took her a moment to comprehend what was being said.
”…verick. We need to talk.”She shut her eyes tightly, making to squeeze the disorientation out of her brain.
”…What the hell did you do to me? ¡Vete a la verga culero! Lemme outta here, I don’t have to say shit to you.” She strained against her metaphysical bonds, grunting and growling as her powers struggled to latch onto something. She briefly turned into the material of her clothing, then of the soles of her shoes, but all was soft, burnable and absolutely useless. She flashed back to her normal skin, huffing furiously.
”I bet the populace’ll just love how you keep teen girls tied up in your nerd basement.” 
Spider Pickle
