I shot upright. "What?!"
"We were at Harry's party when this man dressed like a giant bird came flying in and just grabbed him! Johnny went after him and now they're fighting up in the air! Please, Peter — hurry!"
"Send me your location. I'll be there as fast as I can," I said, and jumped out of bed.
Before I'd even had time to think about it, I'd thrown open my wardrobe and pulled open the hidden compartment at the back. And there it was. My old red jacket with the black spider-web design sprayed across it.
I grabbed it. I grabbed my old web-shooters and my mask. I ran downstairs — Ben and May were asleep, Richard was still out. I ran to the garage, got in the car, and reversed out as fast as I dared.
I drove one street over before activating flight mode and switching on the AI. "Doc — check my phone. Liz Allen will have sent a location. Fly to it."
"Understood," the car replied, taking over and accelerating hard toward the coordinates.
"Oh, and go incognito," I added, pulling off my hoodie and replacing it with the jacket and mask. The car's exterior shimmered as it shifted from grey to matte black, a holographic projection of a Lamborghini spreading over the DeLorean's bodywork. I had installed that feature a while back — it seemed wise, given that Spider-Man and Peter Parker being seen driving the same car would raise some fairly obvious questions.
We arrived quickly. I squinted through the windscreen and picked out a trail of fire spiralling through the sky. Johnny.
Circling around him was a man fitted with large metal wings, twin spinning turbines mounted on each, topped with an aviation helmet. The Vulture. And dangling from one of his mechanical feet, screaming his lungs out, was Harry.
"Doc — switch to autopilot," I said, pulling on my web-shooters and gloves. Doc took the controls. I moved to the door and pushed it open. I looked down.
I was going to regret this.
I jumped.
Arms out wide, I dropped. The Vulture was directly below me. I fired two web lines that latched onto his wings.
"What the—" He looked up.
I yanked hard and drove both feet into his chest. "Hey there, birdie!"
"Argh!" he cried out in pain, his grip giving way.
Harry fell.
"Got him!" Johnny shouted, diving after Harry and carrying him safely back toward the building.
I locked my legs around the Vulture's torso and hit him across the jaw, once, twice, three times. "So who are you exactly?! Everyone's got a gimmick these days! The Birdman?! Oh wait — the Falcon? No, I think that name's taken!"
"Get off me!" he snarled, tearing a pistol from his belt and firing at point-blank range. I had to release him and throw myself clear to avoid the shots. Even knowing I'd heal, instinct took over — I kicked off and dropped away, then immediately fired a web line upward and snagged his ankle.
"Oh no you don't, bird brain! You're coming down with me!"
"You want to fly, Spider?! Fine! Let's fly!" He surged upward, and I held on with everything I had as the ground fell away beneath us.
I growled and began hauling myself up hand over hand. My arms burned from the effort — I was badly out of condition. I pulled myself up along his leg until I could reach his feet. I needed to get a proper grip.
And then I used them. The last gift Logan's blood had given me.
Two bone claws punched out from between my knuckles, and a third — longer, curved — extended from just below my wrist. Three stingers in all, that was what I called them privately.
I drove them into the Vulture's leg, punching clean through muscle and grazing bone. "AARRGH!" he screamed, flailing violently. The more he thrashed, the worse the damage. He began to lose altitude fast, diving erratically as the pain overwhelmed his control.
"Get them out of me!" he screamed as the ground rushed up.
I needed to pull him out of the dive — but just then Johnny came in hard and fast, grabbing the Vulture's arm and yanking him skyward. The sudden violent change in direction dislodged my claws and sent me spinning away with nothing to hold onto.
"Spider!" Johnny shouted.
I wasn't particularly worried. Doc came in immediately, intercepting my fall. I landed on the car's roof with enough force to leave a small dent. I'd need to deal with that.
Johnny saw it happen and exhaled in relief. He came down toward me with the Vulture in tow. The moment they touched down the Vulture made a break for it — but Johnny's hands were far too hot. Without even trying, his grip had begun to melt the mechanical wings. The moment the Vulture struggled and the wings buckled, they snapped entirely, sending him dropping straight down.
"I've got him," I said, firing a web line that caught the man across the chest. I kept him swinging on the line and attached the other end to the car's roof.
"Dude!" Johnny stared at my hand. "You've got claws!"
I sighed. "I'll explain later. Is everyone alright?"
"Yeah, everyone's fine," Johnny said. He paused. "How did you even know to come?"
"Your girlfriend called me," I said.
Johnny winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Liz. About that—"
"It's fine, honestly. She's her own person — she can see whoever she wants," I told him.
"Really?" Johnny's face lit up. "Thanks, man!"
"Don't mention it." I only hoped he would be equally understanding if he ever found out about Sue and me. "Did anyone see me out here?"
"Not really," Johnny said, then glanced down at the dangling Vulture. "Well — other than him."
I sighed. "Right. If anyone asks — you caught him. Solo. You don't mention me."
"But why?" Johnny asked, genuinely confused.
"I don't want anyone thinking I'm back."
"But you are, aren't you?" He looked pointedly at my jacket. "Isn't that what wearing that again means?"
"No, Johnny." I shook my head. "I'm not doing this again. Not yet. Get bird man over to SHIELD and let them process him. I'm done for tonight."
"Right," Johnny said, a little uncertainly. He took hold of the Vulture and lifted off, burning through the web line to remove any trace that I'd been involved. Smart thinking. I heard the party erupt in cheers as he came back down, the crowd chanting his name. Good. They didn't need to know about me.
I climbed back into the driver's seat and told Doc to take us home. I looked down at my right hand. The stingers were still extended. Bone, not metal — less dramatic than Logan's, but that seemed fitting. They were actually far closer in appearance to Daken's — Logan's son. The half-Japanese boy had the same configuration: two from the knuckles, one from the forearm. He could also influence people's pheromone responses. Maybe because I already had something like that ability, the mutation had adapted to mirror his. Maybe.
I grunted quietly as the claws retracted, sliding back beneath the skin. A dull, familiar ache.
I'd first discovered them about a month ago. I'd been out at the abandoned rail yard I used to train at before SHIELD got involved. I was in pain — a different kind of pain — and I was taking it out on a steel girder. I remembered getting so angry that everything went red. I'd punched the steel as hard as I could, and they'd come out without warning. I hadn't even noticed until they were already buried in the metal.
I'd cried out. I hadn't understood — until then — why Logan always moved like a man bracing for something. The way they came out, tearing through the skin — it wasn't clean. It hurt. Every time.
And they weren't ordinary bone either. They were black, which gave me the first clue. I'd had Sue and my dad run tests. Whatever they were made of, neither of them had seen anything like it. I had made them both swear not to breathe a word to anyone — Logan especially.
The flight home felt long. I looked at my jacket sleeve. It was shredded from where the claws had extended.
I sighed. 'This is why I can't have nice things.'
Still — I had gone out. I had worn the jacket. I had acted.
Maybe that was enough for tonight.