Toshiko dropped her suitcases on the sidewalk. She regretted most of her decisions in getting here to this part of Manhattan. Listening to Jack's smooth talking about her being a vital delegate was a minor act of vanity. Perhaps she would still find something useful to do at the secret U.N. conference on Exterior Intelligence. But the worst decision of all? Luggage.

She did not know how long she would be staying in New York so she had brought everything she might need. In retrospect she should have brought very little and played it by ear. But she liked her own things around her. She did not even know what the hotel would be like yet.

The cabbie from Kennedy had taken the opportunity to personally load all of her bags into the trunk of his vehicle, carefully counting out loud as each piece was stowed. She knew now that he was gleefully securing a surcharge for each piece and the assistance required.

He refused her traveler's checks as she stepped out onto the sidewalk on 35th and pleasantly demanded cash. She reluctantly handed over the few notes she had and watched him flee before a receipt could be secured.

There was no-one waiting.

Tosh thought about the time difference. It was late evening in Wales. She sent an SMS to Gwen in Cardiff. "Where is my contact?" Gwen might help.

To her relief, after a few seconds, there was a reply. "They're at BA check-in. I can find number if you want? :-)"

That's the airport, she thought. She quickly replied "I'm already downtown in the city! They're supposed to meet me at the lodgings."

Within a second Gwen had replied. "Sorry. Not my fault. :-("

Tosh resisted the urge to send a series of accusing question marks and waited for any further info. She was feeling only a little panicked, but she was standing on a sidewalk in a very strange town with lots of money and lots of technical equipment.

"Shit," she whispered to herself. "Just stay calm."

"Got a dime for coffee, lady?" A dishevelled young man sat in a shop doorway. She had not noticed him before. He opened his palm without menace.

She shook her head without words. If she said nothing then hopefully he would not continue to talk to her. That was the idea.

"I can tell you where the nearest ATM is, if that helps?"

She scowled and looked up the avenue again. The traffic never seemed to stop.

"There's a diner across the street that takes credit cards, lady. I could look after your bags while you run over?"

She shook her head, but she noted the pleasant diner. A cup of tea would be great. But the ridiculous conversation was over. Still no sign of her contact. It was typical of U*N*I*T to mess up Torchwood requests. What was holding up Gwen?

"Watch out, lady!"

She scowled and turned to curse at the vagrant. She had been patient.

But when she turned something was swinging toward her face, a giant sack arcing down on a monstrous rope from the rooftops above, its contents glistening and ringing. She tried to move the cases but the weight caused her to twist and buckle and stumble back. She felt the sting of rope brush her cheek, the ring of vibrating metal buzz in her ears.

It was gone and she steadied herself again.

"You alright, lady? I thought you were losing your head for sure. Looked like gold bars and all sorts." He pointed at the receding bundle, a giant sack of ropes swinging violently below a flying, fleeing figure skimming the nearby skyline. She blinked and looked again. She knew a pterodactyl when she saw one. The Torchwood Hub had its own pet dinosaur to see off intruders. Was this the same thing? How could it be?

"One of those bad guys in a costume!" shouted the young man, now on his feet pointing upwards. There was almost glee in his voice. "Looks like he robbed a bank or a circus or something."

The flying figure turned. It was coming back. Now she could see that it was a man in an elaborate frame, a sort of glider with ornate decoration. The propulsion was not visible. Surely he could not have turned in the air just using air currents? But he was coming back.

"Look lady. It's him." The young man was leaping about now, pointing back up the street, back to the source of the original pursuit. Another figure was approaching, but much smaller and agile. It had the same speed, and bounced in a red and blue blur thru the air at building height, but she could not tell how it was moving so fast and so directly.

But she could see that they were going to collide. The glider was swept forward into a bullet shape, the blue and red dot starting to spin. Then bang.

The metal framed flier fell directly to the sidewalk, bounced bodily on the hood of a yellow cab and slid to a terrifying halt on the asphalt in front of Tosh. The traffic separated and swerved in acts of individual panic trying to avoid the damaged vehicle and the injured man.

The absurd figure in the glider twitched on the ground and tried pathetically to unfurled the textile wings. He got to his feet then thrashed about trying again to stabilize his posture.

The agile red-and-blue figure sprang from the roof of a garbage truck down onto the sidewalk and turned to face her. The masked face was ridiculously stark. Giant shiny eye plates concealed the identity, but not the expression. She could see the whole costume now, mainly red on the top half, merging into blue on the bottom half.

"New in town?" he said. The voice was chirpy, almost boyish.

"Excuse me?" she whispered. Suddenly he seemed to be more of a cartoon character and less of a vigilante. "I don't understand."

The vigilante turned back to the beleaguered pilot. "Excuse me a second." He ambled over and There was a muffled but energetic exchange. The blue-red hero gripped the chunky belts buckled at the center of the flier's chest and piled a right fist into the helmeted face. Tosh felt sick, riveted to the spot.

He returned to stand in front of her. "Sorry you had to see that. Sometimes they won't stay down." He held out a palm in a kind helpful gesture. "Spider-Man."