The Manhattan skyline whips past me in a blur of light and shadow, my stomach lurching with every dip and turn as Jenny Storm carries me bridal-style two hundred feet above the streets. Her arms cradle me against her chest with casual strength, the heat radiating from her body a stark contrast to the frigid night air slicing past us.
"Hold tight, Skipper!" she yells over the roaring wind, executing a completely unnecessary barrel roll that has me clutching her shoulders for dear life.
"Jesus Christ!" I yelp, my voice embarrassingly high as my legs dangle over empty space.
Jenny's laugh is bright and wild.
Ice Woman glides alongside us on her self-created slide, somehow managing to look graceful despite literally surfing on ice hundreds of feet in the air. The moonlight catches on her crystalline form, sending prismatic reflections dancing across nearby buildings.
I close my eyes briefly, fighting back the nausea. When I agreed to patrol with the Fantastic Four's resident firecracker, I didn't realize "patrol" meant "being manhandled through the sky like a ragdoll." Spider-Woman never carries me like this, she was all business when we were on patrol.
"You know," Jenny says, her mouth suddenly much closer to my ear than necessary, "you look even cuter when you're terrified."
"I'm not terrified," I lie, opening my eyes to find her face inches from mine. "Just... respectfully aware of the ground's existence."
"Sure you are." Her grin widens as she deliberately slows our flight, hovering in place with the casual control that comes from years of mastering her powers. "So, Skip Step, tell me about yourself. Single? Taken? Complicated?"
I sigh, fully aware that this is the fifth time in the past hour she's tried to steer our conversation toward my relationship status. "Look, Jenny, you seem great, but…"
"But you're not interested," she finishes for me, somehow making rejection sound like a thrilling challenge rather than a definitive answer. "Yeah, you mentioned that. Twice. Just can't figure out why."
"Is this really the time?" I gesture at our precarious position hundreds of feet above Manhattan. "We're supposed to be patrolling."
"Multi-tasking," she replies with a wink. "I can flirt and watch for crime simultaneously. It's my superpower."
"That's actually really impressive," I admit with a reluctant smile beneath my mask. "But I'm still not interested."
Jenny pulls me closer, the heat from her body increasing slightly. "I'm dying to see how cute you are under that mask," she whispers, her eyes flashing with mischief and flames.
Before I can formulate a response that won't encourage her, Ice Woman's crystalline voice cuts through the night air.
"Shit, Jenny!" she calls out, pointing toward the Financial District. "Fisk Tower. There's a bunch of cops down there."
We all turn to look. Even from this distance, I can see the flashing lights of police cars surrounding the massive skyscraper, their blue and red pulses reflecting off the glass façade.
"Hammer Head," Ice Woman adds, her icy features somehow conveying concern. "Scanner chatter says she's causing a ruckus."
Jenny's eyes light up instantly, all flirtation forgotten as excitement takes over. Her grip on me tightens as we change course, flames intensifying around her feet as she rockets us toward the tower.
"Alright," she says, her voice taking on a more serious tone that I hadn't heard from her before. "Keep your distance, Skip Step. If anyone needs to get to safety, focus on that. Got it?"
My heart rate spikes, thundering against my ribs so hard I'm surprised Jenny can't feel it. This is it. My first time being near a real supervillain. Not just some random mugger or drunk guy, but an honest-to-god villain with powers and a reputation. The kind of encounter I've been training for.
"Yeah, I'm ready," I say, trying to sound confident despite the adrenaline making my voice shake slightly.
We descend rapidly toward Fisk Tower, the wind whipping past us as Jenny's flames leave a brilliant orange trail across the night sky. I can see figures moving on the street below now, cops crouched behind their vehicles, weapons drawn, and civilians scrambling for cover.
"Drop me on that rooftop," I tell Jenny, pointing to a building adjacent to Fisk Tower. "I can teleport from there if I need to."
She nods and angles our descent. As we get closer, I catch my first glimpse of Hammer Head herself, a tall, imposing woman in a pinstriped suit, her most distinctive feature being the flat plane where the top of her head should be.
Jenny sets me down on the rooftop with surprising gentleness, her flames dimming as my feet touch the concrete. From this vantage point, I get a clear view of the chaos unfolding below.
"Stay safe, golden boy!" she calls as she launches herself back into the air, a human comet streaking toward the confrontation.
Hammer Head stands in the middle of the street, her distinctive flat-topped skull gleaming under the streetlights. She's shouting at the police barricade, her voice carrying even up to my position.
"This ain't none of your fucking business!" she bellows, gesturing wildly with what looks like an honest-to-god tommy gun. "This is between me and that wannabe mayor bitch Fisk! Back the hell off!"
The cops respond with gunfire, but it's like watching bullets hit concrete. Some rounds ricochet off her skull with metallic pings while others miss completely. She ducks behind a parked sedan, the vehicle's frame groaning as she slams against it.
I flinch as she returns fire, the tommy gun's staccato rattle echoing between buildings as bullets spray across police cruisers. Glass shatters, metal dents, and officers dive for better cover.
Jenny and Ice Woman descend into the fray like avenging angels, one trailing fire, the other frost. They position themselves between the police and Hammer Head, their powers creating a surreal light show of orange and blue.
"Everyone back up!" Jenny shouts to the officers, flames intensifying around her hands. "We've got this!"
Ice Woman reinforces the command with a sweeping gesture. "Clear the perimeter! Civilian safety is priority!"
To my surprise, the police actually listen, retreating to establish a wider perimeter. I guess when part of the Fantastic Four shows up, even the NYPD knows to get out of the way.
My gaze darts around the scene, looking for people who might need help. It seems all the civilians have already fled.
Movement near the entrance of Fisk Tower catches my eye. The massive glass doors slide open, and my breath catches in my throat. Through the spotless transparency, I see a woman in a form-fitting tactical suit with what looks like a skull-patterned mask, a gun pressed firmly against the temple of a well-dressed young woman. The hostage can't be older than twenty, her face a mask of controlled annoyance as she's marched forward.
My heart hammers against my ribcage even harder as I instinctively duck lower on my perch. The masked woman moves with practiced precision, using her hostage as a shield while scanning for threats. Everyone's attention is focused on Hammer Head's rampage, no one's even noticed this secondary crisis unfolding.
"Fuck," I whisper, my fingers already reaching for my brass knuckles. This isn't some petty crime or drunken brawl. This is a hostage situation, possibly a kidnapping in progress.
I slide the metal across my knuckles, the familiar weight grounding me as adrenaline floods my system. Jenny and Ice Woman are both still busy with hammerhead. By the time I get their attention, the masked kidnapper could disappear into the chaos.
"Short jumps," I mutter to myself, visualizing the trajectory. "Fifty feet at a time. seventy tops. Don't overdo it."
I gather the electric energy beneath my skin, focusing on a spot just behind a dumpster about forty feet from the masked woman. The world bends around me, and suddenly I'm there, crouched low and hidden from view. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my teeth as I peer around the edge of the dumpster.
The kidnapper is moving quickly, gun still pressed against the young woman's head as they slip through the shadows toward what looks like a service alley. I don't have much time.
I focus again, this time on a spot directly behind them. The familiar tingle builds, stronger this time as I push for a slightly longer jump.
BAMF
I materialize silently behind the kidnapper, so close I can smell the leather of her tactical suit. Without hesitation, I launch forward, brass knuckles gleaming as I put everything I have into a swing aimed at her kidney. The impact sends a satisfying jolt up my arm.
She stumbles forward, grip loosening just enough for the hostage to wrench away. The masked woman whirls around with impossible speed, and my blood runs cold as I recognize the skull pattern on her face.
"Fuck," I gasp, "I can't believe I just punched Taskmaster."
She stares at me through those hollow eye sockets, her body already shifting into a combat stance that screams danger. "The name's Taskmistress, moron," she snarls, her voice cold and precise.
Before I can process this correction, she's already moving, a blur of black and white as she launches herself at me. I barely have time to gather my energy before she's on me.
BAMF
I teleport behind her again, my sudden disappearance causing her to punch empty air. But she's already adjusting, pivoting with terrifying efficiency, like she's already studying my fighting style.
"Run!" I shout to the hostage, who's staring at us with wide eyes. "Get to the police!"
The young woman doesn't need to be told twice. She bolts toward the street where the cops and heroes are still dealing with Hammer Head.
Taskmistress tracks her movement with a quick glance, then refocuses on me. "Bad move, kid," she says, her voice eerily calm.
"I had to save her!" I blurt out, my voice cracking with panic. "She was a hostage!"
Taskmistress tilts her head, somehow managing to look amused despite the expressionless skull mask. She casually takes the gun and tucks it into a holster at her hip.
"I don't need this pesky little thing for a brat like you," she says, voice dripping with condescension. "Let's see what you've got, kid."
She lunges at me with frightening speed. I barely manage to teleport behind her, but she's already anticipated my move. Her other fist connects with my face the instant I materialize, knocking me flat on my back. The impact drives the air from my lungs and sends stars dancing across my vision.
Taskmistress clicks her tongue, standing over me with her hands on her hips. "You fucking teleporters. Always the same, so fucking predictable."
Something warm starts to build under my skin, that familiar sensation that has nothing to do with teleporting and everything to do with the demonic energy Lileth left inside me. The incubus pheromones are leaking out, the same ones that made Venom and me so uncontrollably horny.
"Come on, get up, brat," Taskmistress taunts, her stance relaxed, almost bored.
I push myself up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my jaw. My hands come up in the defensive stance Professor Masters drilled into me, feet shoulder-width apart, weight on the balls of my feet.
Taskmistress's eyes narrow behind her mask. "Well, well. Not completely hopeless after all."
She comes at me again, a blur of precise movement. This time I teleport much further back, putting nearly twenty feet between us. She adjusts instantly, launching herself toward my new position with terrifying speed.
I don't wait for her to reach me. I teleport again, then again, then again , jumping randomly around the alley, never staying in one place long enough for her to connect. Behind the dumpster, up on the fire escape, beside a stack of pallets, back near the entrance. Each jump is short enough that it doesn't drain me, but the cumulative effect is starting to make my head spin with lust.
I'm just buying time now, hoping Jenny or Ice Woman will notice what's happening and come help. Taskmistress whirls in place, tracking my movements with uncanny precision. She's analyzing my pattern, I realize with a jolt of panic.
"You can't keep this up forever," she calls out, sounding almost bored despite the chase. "All that jumping around is just making you sloppy."
She's right. Each teleport is getting less precise, my landings more wobbly.
I materialize on top of a dumpster, planning my next jump, when suddenly she's there. Her hand closes around my ankle before I can teleport away, yanking me off my perch and slamming me against the alley wall. Her body pins mine, one hand gripping my throat, the other holding my wrist above my head.
"Gotcha," she whispers, her face inches from my gold mask.
We're both breathing hard, chests heaving from the exertion. But there's something else in the air between us now, a thick, heavy tension that has nothing to do with fighting. The incubus pheromones have saturated the space around us, turning combat adrenaline into something far more primal.
I feel her grip on my throat loosen slightly, her body pressing against mine in a way that's no longer purely about restraint. Behind her mask, I can see her pupils dilating, her breathing pattern changing.
"What the hell is this?" she murmurs, voice suddenly husky. "What are you doing to me?"
"Side effect," I gasp, equally affected. "Can't control it."
Taskmistress's hand slides down my chest, fingers trailing fire through my suit as they move lower with deliberate slowness. My breath catches as she reaches my waistband, her touch sending electric jolts straight to my core.
"Oh my," she purrs, palm pressing firmly against the unmistakable evidence of my arousal. "The little brat is rock hard while trying to play hero, huh?"
I nod frantically, unable to form words as lust courses through my veins like liquid lightning. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming for release, for contact, for anything she's willing to give me. The rational part of my brain, the tiny sliver not drowning in incubus-fueled desire, knows this is beyond dangerous, but I can't bring myself to care.
Her fingers find my zipper, the sound of metal teeth parting almost deafening in the quiet alley. Just as she begins to tug it down, a familiar thwip cuts through the air.
White webbing explodes across Taskmistress's back, yanking her away from me with enough force that I nearly fall forward without her body pinning me to the wall. Spider-Woman lands in the alleyway, her mask's white eyes wide with shock and disgust.
"What the hell is going on here?" she demands, voice sharp with anger.
Taskmistress shakes her head vigorously, like someone coming out of a trance. The webbing restricts her movement but doesn't completely immobilize her. She glances between Spider-Woman and me, her body language shifting instantly from seduction back to combat readiness.
"Perfect timing as always," Taskmistress snarls, reaching for something on her belt.
Spider-Woman launches herself forward, but Taskmistress is already throwing a small sphere that explodes into thick, choking smoke. I cover my mouth, coughing as the acrid cloud engulfs us. By the time it dissipates, Taskmistress is gone.
I'm left sagging against the wall, breathing heavily, my body still thrumming with desperate need. The pheromones continue pulsing through me, making every heartbeat a torturous reminder of how close I'd been to release.
"She's gone," I gasp, teleporting frantically around the alley, checking behind dumpsters and up fire escapes. Each jump only intensifies the ache, the energy building beneath my skin with nowhere to go. "Fuck, where did she go?"
After several jumps, I materialize back in front of Spider-Woman. The golden mask hides my flushed face, but nothing can conceal my labored breathing or the obvious physical reaction still straining against my pants.
"Hey, are you alright?" Spider-Woman asks, approaching cautiously. "Was she... was she assaulting you?"
I look at her, the world narrowing to just her lithe form in that skintight red and blue suit. The pheromones are still pumping out of me in waves, and I can see the exact moment they hit her, her stance softens, her head tilts slightly, and her breathing changes rhythm closer to mine.
"Can we fuck?" I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Her mask's eyes go wider than i even thought possible.
"What?"