Noon sunlight hits different when you're a hundred feet above Manhattan. Even in the cold. It's harsh, unforgiving, nothing like the romantic glow of streetlights during night patrol. My golden mask reflects the midday glare as I pace along the rooftop edge, scanning the streets below like some bargain-bin Spider-Man wannabe.
Thursday. No classes. A perfect day to break routine.
"Daytime heroics," I mutter to myself. "If it works for Spider-Woman, it can work for me, right?"
I've always done my Skip Step patrols at night, partly because it seemed cooler, and partly because fewer people means fewer chances to embarrass myself. But comic books taught me that the best heroes operate in broad daylight. Minus Batman.
Ellie's stuck in her journalism ethics class all day, which means I'm flying solo for patrol. It's kind of nice in it's own way. No overprotective symbiote girlfriend hovering nearby, ready to murder anyone who looks at me wrong.
I take a deep breath and teleport to the next rooftop, feeling that familiar electric tingle as reality bends around me. Just a short hop, I'm trying to be smarter about conserving energy.
Three rooftops later, movement catches my eye. Down below, a pizza place with a garish neon sign, "Sal's Slices," is having some unexpected drama unfold. A woman in a dark hoodie has a gun pointed at the cashier, her hand visibly shaking even from this distance.
"Oh wow," I mutter, squinting for a better view. "A pizza place holdup? That seems like a dumb business decision. How much cash could they possibly have at noon on a Thursday?"
I teleport down to a fire escape, careful not to overextend. Masters' training has been drilling this into me, multiple short jumps are better than one big one that might leave me disoriented or... well, inappropriately aroused in the middle of a fight.
The brass knuckles Ellie got me slide perfectly onto my fingers. The weight feels good, grounding me as I prepare to act.
I reach the street level and take a running start along the sidewalk. Pedestrians turn to stare at the weirdo in the gold mask sprinting past them, but I don't care. I'm building momentum, my breathing steady as I focus on the pizza shop door.
When I'm about twenty feet away, I teleport, not to safety, but directly behind the robber. The world warps around me for a split second, and then I'm there, still carrying all my forward momentum. Before she can register the golden flash of my arrival, my brass-knuckled fist connects with the side of her head with a sickening crack.
She crumples instantly, gun clattering to the floor as she collapses in a heap. I skid to a stop, nearly tripping over her unconscious form.
"KO!" I shout, throwing my hands up triumphantly like I've just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.
The silence that follows is deafening. Five customers and two employees stare at me, their expressions ranging from shock to terror. I suddenly realize how this must look, some masked weirdo just materialized out of nowhere and knocked a woman unconscious.
I blink, suddenly realizing I should probably deal with the weapon. Gingerly, I reach down and pick up the gun with my thumb and forefinger, holding it away from my body like it's a used tissue full of cum.
"Um, I'm not really sure what to do with this," I say, carefully placing it on the counter in front of the wide-eyed cashier, a young woman with a purple streak in her hair who still looks frozen in shock.
She stares at the gun for a moment before cautiously sliding it further away from the edge. "Thanks," she says, her voice shaky.
"You should probably call the police," I suggest, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I'm not entirely sure what the protocol is here. Do I wait? Leave? Take a victory lap around the block?
"Yeah, I think someone already did," she replies, gesturing vaguely toward one of the customers who has their phone out. "They're on their way."
"Alright, cool," I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and awkwardness. Then, because I can't help myself, I add, "Make sure you tell them Skip Step saved the day, okay?"
A hint of a smile finally breaks through her shock. "Will do."
The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and I suddenly feel extremely self-conscious standing in the middle of a pizza place in my homemade costume while everyone stares at me. One of the customers has their phone pointed in my direction, definitely recording.
"Is she... is she going to be okay?" I ask, glancing down at the unconscious robber. I hadn't really considered the possibility that I might have hit her too hard. The brass knuckles suddenly feel heavy on my fingers, a reminder that I'm still learning how to gauge my own strength.
"She's breathing," says a middle-aged man who's kneeling beside her. "But she's gonna have one hell of a headache."
Relief washes over me. I don't want to kill anyone, even a would-be robber. Ellie might not hesitate to end a life, but I'm trying to be better than that. More heroic. More Spider-Woman, less Venom.
In the distance, I hear a high-pitched cackle that sends chills down my spine. Before I can process what's happening, something green streaks past the pizza shop window, accompanied by maniacal laughter that's straight out of a nightmare.
"What the hell?" I mutter, abandoning my awkward hero moment and teleporting outside.
My jaw drops at the sight before me. The Green Goblin is soaring through the air on a bat-shaped glider, her cackling echoing between the buildings as she hurls what look like pumpkin bombs at parked cars. She's decked out in the full getup. Purple hood, green armor, those creepy yellow eyes on her mask reflecting the midday sun.
"Holy shit," I whisper, momentarily frozen in place.
As if that isn't bad enough, I spot another figure on the ground below her. A woman in yellow and brown padded armor, her gauntlets crackling with as she systematically blasts cars into smoking wrecks. The Shocker. The freaking Shocker is here too.
"Oh fuck… I really wish Ellie was here to take my picture right now…" I mutter under my breath.