A/N: Before we begin, I'd like to say that fight scenes are not my forte. And there will be plenty of them, since this is the part-1 finale. That said, I am so damn proud of this chapter :) Sorry for such a long wait, but after two overdue essays, posting some AOT, moving in to my new apartment and working sporadically, it's finally here! Unedited because after the 10k word point, I just decided… nah. And I'm about to go camping in Killarney for four days, so I wanted to post before I left. Between now and the next chapter will probably also be a bit of a wait- I'm not finished this story by a long shot, but I have to collect myself for where I'm going from here, and my autumn semester is starting soon, so I'll definitely be busy. Old readers, thanks for sticking around for so long. I love y'all so much, and new readers, welcome to the party, I'm glad you've made it this far. Here's the golden chapter- I did say this would be a slow burn. Comments/reviews are much appreciated, especially at this point in the story- and as always, enjoy the chapter!

P.S. The word count for this document is 13,966. I'm a bit pressed because it's only 700 words ish from being 100,000 for the whole story. Doesn't matter- in other words, get comfortable, get your food, blanket, cat, whatever, dim the lights and settle in. This is a whopper

The Vigilante, and her Vendetta

Now Playing: Monster/Imagine Dragons

Summary: The night of the Homecoming dance finally approaches, and Diana's life permanently splits into two.

A part of me wanted to jump up and call him over, explain to him the plan for Vulture, and his role in it. But that part of me was stopped when I realised that for the first time, Spider-Man and I were staring at each other when one of us was maskless.

Thousands of questions cascaded through my mind. How did Spider-Man know I was here? Did he talk to Harry about my work schedule? Was Peter the proxy? That didn't make any sense, I thought, and I was right. Because at the moment, I was pretty sure that Peter hated my guts.

Did Spider-Man know I was Nightmare? Or was this just a stupid coincidence?

I ducked my head down, but kept my eyes on the awning. I didn't know how good Spider-Man's vision was, and I didn't want to be caught just staring at the guy.

I was buzzing with questions. I looked over to Nitara and Harry, who were too fixated on their conversation to notice the one and only Spider-Man chilling across the parking lot and street. That was a good thing, I decided. Nitara would most likely go apeshit if she knew Spider-Man was in our vicinity. That would only lead to Spider-Man having a nice discussion with Peter about how creepily obsessive we were about him.

I wouldn't be able to mention it to Nitara anyway, with Harry here. So, my only option was to pretend that Spider-Man wasn't sitting directly outside my work establishment, and hope that Nitara and Harry didn't look out the window.

For the rest of my shift, I organised menus, sanitized tables, and delivered cheques to customers all while keeping my eyes on Spider-Man. He may have moved his position, but didn't budge from where he sat on the awning, instead opting to observe the diner for a prolonged period of time.

It was starting to get a little creepy.

My gaze outside was broken by a waving hand in my peripheral vision. "Hey, waitress," Harry called. "We're ready to go when you are."

Shattered out of my stupor, I glanced down at me watch. It was eight o'clock, and just as Harry had said that, Marty stuck his head out the kitchen doors and gave me a thumbs-up. I waved, and when he disappeared, hastily whipped my visor off my head and threw my apron in the laundry.

Harry grinned as he slapped a fifty on the table. "You ready to fucking party?"

I picked up the bill. "It's a homecoming dance, not a rave. Also, your food is only ten dollars."

Harry stood up and slipped on his jacket. "Sorry, babe. It's the smallest bill I have. You'll just have to keep the change."

I stuffed the fifty in my pocket and slipped a ten I had received from another tip into the register. "Must suck to be rich," I muttered. "Also, don't call me babe."

Nitara followed Harry out of the booth, brushing off her maroon suit. "Take it as a term of endearment, D."

I sighed, and held open the front door of the diner for Harry and Nitara. "Control your boyfriend."

Outside, dusk was settling in the sky, and the glass no longer reflected copious amounts of sunlight into my eyes. Harry wrapped his arm around Nitara and walked over to their car, and I watched as Nitara directed Harry to the front seat with a kiss to the cheek, then turned to wave me over.

I circled the car to enter the other side, and revived my stare at the awning, which was now empty.

Empty?

I blinked a few times, just to be sure, but there was no one sitting on the awning anymore. I quickly scanned the street back and forth, but it was nearly deserted. There was no sign of Spider-Man.

I had barely taken my eyes off him for two minutes, and now he was gone.

Nitara tapped on the glass and pushed open the car door. "You coming?"

I exhaled and stole one final glance of the street before gripping the door handle. "Yeah. I am."

The contents of my bag had not only my dress for Homecoming tonight, but beneath it, I had stashed my Nightmare clothes. I almost considered wearing my uniform underneath my regular clothes after last night at the warehouse, but ultimately decided against it. I had convinced myself to abandon my shift at work if Vulture decided to make a move, though, and I was glad I made it through the whole shift without any disturbances. The last thing I needed was to lose my job because of Nightmare. It was the one place that didn't collide with my after-hour activities, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"Nice dress," Nitara complimented once I had changed in the backseat. "I feel like I've seen it before."

I sighed. "My mother's funeral?"

Nitara puckered her lips. "Yeah. That would be it."

I let out a soft chuckle and leaned back into the soft pleather. "It was the only dress I had that was dark enough to cover the phosphorescence. Plus, I've been kind of busy lately, so I never really thought to go get a new one."

"No kidding," Nitara mused. "It's only a matter of time now. You don't even have to beat Vulture when you meet him next. Just hold him off long enough for the police to storm the warehouse."

I shook my head. Unfortunately, that was where Nitara was wrong. "If I don't win against him, I'm as good as dead."

Nitara scoffed. "How many times have you escaped him already?"

I sat in silence and mentally counted. There was the first time when he shot me behind his old warehouse, then the second time with the woman in the alley when I discovered my trails. Both times were pure luck- I didn't know what I was doing. Then, the third time on top of the van, I probably would have been screwed if Spider-Man and I had traded places. And when I followed him from the ferry, he didn't even know I was there.

"Four extremely relative times."

"See? You're batting a thousand. Nothing to worry about."

I gripped my bag closer to my side as the car pulled up to the curb. I only hoped I could live up to Nitara's expectations.

A moment passed, and a shadow circled the car before stopping at Nitara's side door. Harry opened it, and Nitara crawled out while gripping his hand. I followed her out in classic third-wheel style, and stood awkwardly to side while they interlaced hands and gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only seconds. Harry didn't look away from Nitara as he gave the side of the car a kick, signalling the driver to carry on.

I was only brought back to reality by a new set of headlights that approached from behind me. I didn't even turn to see the car before gripping Harry and Nitara's arms to lead them away from the edge of the road. "Move," I muttered, eyeing the entrance to the school where colorful lights were calling our names.

"Hey, wait," Harry said. "That's Liz's car."

I froze, quite literally, like a deer in the headlights. My shadow extended several feet from where I stood, and instead of turning around to risk showing my face, I stood rooted where I was with my deathly grip on both Harry and Nitara's arms, who were on either side of me.

I could tell Nitara understood the situation, and that she was trying to shrink herself into nothing along with me. "Who, um… who is she with, Harry?" asked Nitara, vocalizing my thoughts that didn't get past my lips, which, along with the rest of my body, had run dry and heavy as cement.

Harry shrugged. "Well, Peter mentioned he had asked her to come. So I'm assuming it's him."

My cement heart fell to the ground and shattered into a million little shards. I almost laughed at how comical the situation was. All within twelve square feet of each other stood me, Spider-Man's photographer, probably our arch-enemy, and his daughter who had replaced me as said photographer's date.

Don't get ahead of yourself, I scolded. You never even asked him.

"That's not what I mean," Nitara said. "Who's driving?"

Harry turned around and squinted at the car. "Uh… some guy. Probably Liz's father. Imagine not having a chauffer…"

I nearly shit my pants at Harry's words. Holy hell. No. No. No. No.

"Let's go inside," Nitara said, but her voice wavered enough for anyone with decent interpersonal skills to detect that she was uneasy. Luckily for us, Harry wasn't the pinnacle of emotional intelligence. He didn't get a word in edgewise as I led the couple up Midtown's stairs and through the doors.

The change in ambience slowed my heart rate slightly, even though I was normally quick to despise large crowds. But tonight, I was glad the obnoxious voices of the people around me took my central focus off Vulture.

"I see Ned," Harry said, pointing to a small cluster of students near the wall of the gymnasium. "Wanna go join him?"

"You go," I quipped. "We're right behind you."

Harry gave me a questioning look before heading over to Ned, leaving Nitara and I alone in the empty space next to the doors.

"Okay, shit," Nitara said. "That was insane. D, I'm so sorry about Peter."

"No. Don't be." I raised my hand up. Thinking about Peter and Liz wasn't going to get me anywhere in this situation. Even though it was the exact thing I hadn't wanted to happen, for Peter to get close to Liz and inadvertently get closer to Vulture in the process.

I took a breath. These were my pieces. I just had to figure out how to play them.

"Vulture-Toomes drove Liz here," I said, realization dawning on me. "Do you know what that means?"

Nitara's mouth fell agape. "He… he's not at his warehouse."

I chewed on my lip. "Exactly. As we speak, Vulture isn't even Vulture. He's got no metal suit on if he's driving his daughter to a Homecoming dance. It's happening tonight."

Fuck! It was happening tonight!

I ran my fingers through my hair, and felt every single strand between my fingers. "Okay. New plan. Operation, um…"

"Operation Asshat," Nitara filled in.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at Nitara. "Yes. Good throwback. If he keeps his suit at his warehouse, he'll have to take time to travel there from here. This is fantastic. He's suitless. We've got him right where we want him."

The doors opened again, and Nitara pulled me out of the way to avoid being bumped into by a happy looking Liz.

"I know it's not her fault," I muttered. "But God, if she isn't the centre of all my problems right now."

"It's okay," Nitara said. "Remember how part of the post-named Operation Asshat was to contact Spider-Man once we got our chance? How are we going to do that?"

I could do that while permanently damaging my relationship with Peter, if A) I hadn't done so already, and B) if Vulture hadn't already left Peter's corpse at the curb or abducted him in order to also find out about Spider-Man's whereabouts.

"I'll attack Vulture first," I said. "Don't worry. To Spider-Man, that'll be like a nuclear bomb going off in Queens. He'll drop whatever he's doing and come find us."

Nitara stared blankly at me. "That's… a horrible idea. How do you even know it'll work?"

"Because Spider-Man's an idiot," I fumed. "He's the kind of guy who acts first, thinks second, and preaches all about putting lives first, then immediately calls Peter over to an active crime scene for a goddamn photoshoot. There's no way he won't show up to this showdown. Plus, you said it yourself. All I have to do is keep Vulture busy long enough for him to get there."

"Me and my big mouth."

"Yeah, your big awesome mouth," I said. "I'm getting out of here. Go use your mouth with Harry or something."

Nitara wrapped her arms around me and gave a tight squeeze. "You had better not die. I'll kill you."

"That makes no sense," I said, muffled into the collar of my best friend's suit. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Nitara rushed over to Harry, just as I turned around and ran straight into a pale-faced somebody, shaking like a shack in an earthquake.

"Peter?-!"

I didn't even get the chance to question his composure before Peter grabbed my arms and pulled me up to him, and firmly planted his lips on mine.

I never prepared myself for this. I never kissed my arm in private or practised on a pillow at sleepovers. Madison didn't teach me shit about relationships. But right now, I somehow knew exactly what I was doing. I couldn't even tell where my body ended and Peter's began. It was as easy as breathing.

I wanted it to last forever, but I knew better.

"Peter," I breathed, standing back and bringing my hands down his shoulders to rest on his arms. It was like pulling apart two magnets. It didn't feel right. "…I have to go."

Our eyes met, and finally, it seemed like somebody understood that what I needed to do was critical. Regret was scrawled over his face just as likely as it was on mine. The air that encased us in the liberating moment suddenly turned dull and heavy, like it was being tasked to hold the weight of my looming responsibilities. If I wanted to be Diana Bennet, I could stay here at my homecoming dance with this amazing guy. But if I wanted to collect my dues as Nightmare, and finish what Vulture started, I had to leave to go after him. The two most important events of my life were happening simultaneously, and I had to choose. I couldn't have both. My fractured life was colliding in a way I never intended it to.

I knew what I had to do. And, God, it hurt.

I let my hands drift off his body as he gave me a slight nod, which was only detectable by the light shaking of his brown locks. "I understand. I do, too."

My heart didn't know whether to pick up its pace or deflate. Peter had just made this easier for me.

"Again," I said, teetering towards the exit door in the corner of the gym. I saw Peter eyeing the one next to the stage. "We'll do this again. Sometime better."

Peter grabbed my hands and, after a wordless squeeze, dashed over in the direction of the stage. I, on the other hand, watched him fly out of the gym, and then rushed over to the exit, whipping my phone out of my pocket. I had no time to be confused over Peter's sudden change of heart. It was go time, and Nitara was first on my speed dial.

It rang. Once, twice, as I bolted through the door, illuminated minutely by a flicker of red light from the exit sign. I could only hope she heard it over the music from inside. I swung the door shut as she answered, and made sure no one was around to hear me before I replied. I was at the side of the school. The front was definitely busy with people being dropped off, and there could have been teachers by the school buses, because it happened to be a good spot to smoke. But here, I was safe at the side.

"Nitara," I breathed, letting out enough air to power a balloon. "I'm out."

"Get changed stat," my best friend whispered into the phone, for my sake more than hers. "I have a new plan."

"I'm alone," I said, putting my phone on speaker, then setting it on the ground and sliding my backpack off my shoulders to retrieve my black uniform. "You can speak up."

"Well, I'm not."

My heart stopped. "What do you mean, you're not alone?"

"Don't worry, I'm out of earshot. He has no idea I'm talking to you."

I rummaged through my bag, finding my black leggings and struggling to jump into them while avoiding stepping onto the pavement without shoes on. It was practically a sport. "Who has no idea? You're making no sense. Wait- where are you?"

"I'm with Ned," Nitara hissed through the phone. "In room 120. Did you know he works for Spider-Man? He's, like, his guy in the chair! And you'll never believe it-"

"Ned knows Spider-Man?" I wondered aloud, more out of blatant curiosity than shock. Peter photographed Spider-Man, and now I'm learning that Ned was his tech sidekick. From this thought track, an even bigger revelation hit me. "He must go to Midtown. How else would they both know him? I wonder who else does?"

Harry? Flashed through my mind, but I stopped that train of thought in its tracks. Harry wasn't Spider-Man. The timing, the placement, the motives didn't line up. I mean, he was in the diner when I saw Spider-Man outside. It couldn't be him, unless I was going crazy. Both were entirely plausible situations.

Although, Harry did start hanging around those two and Nitara and I just at the start of this year, a few months after Spider-Man's antics had started up. If Harry was the final piece of their trio…

"Doesn't matter right now," Nitara flushed. "Ned is currently tracking Vulture's car. If you're quick, we can catch him before he gets to wherever he's going. Spider-Man is tracking him down, and I really think you can take him together. This is it. Tonight, you can take him tonight, I know you can."

I took a deep breath before swapping my flats for my black runners. It seemed that Nitara was correct. Everything was falling into place. The puzzle pieces were arranged perfectly. Everything was in the right place, at the right time. I was heading after Vulture. Spider-Man was heading after Vulture. Ned could be used as my contact to Spider-Man. Madison wasn't expecting me home. Vulture's warehouse was empty, and the man himself was in the wind. Operation Asshat was a go.

"Okay," I said, buying time to think as I rummaged through the rest of my bag. I swapped my gloves, so that I had my black ones that were susceptible to fraying holes from any trails I might need to make. I whipped on my mask, covering my face under my eyes, and was nearly finished with my ensemble. Except for the one thing that was missing. "Fuck."

Nitara huffed through the phone at the sudden expletive. "What's the matter?"

I clenched my fists around my backpack straps. "My shirt. It- I must have left it at home."

Nitara was silent for a moment. "Do you think you can fight in a dress?"

I would have laughed at the absurdity of her statement had I not been facing that being my only option. "I might be recognisable," I said, my head swimming. "I mean, he saw me outside the school. If he found out who I was… not only have I been a thorn in his side for nearly two months, but I think Liz saw me with Peter. Imagine Vulture when he finds out Nightmare was with his daughter's homecoming date. I'm the last person on Earth that he wants to see. And if we don't take care of him by tonight…"

I didn't need to finish my sentence for Nitara to understand the meaning this time. He would undoubtedly put me on top of his to do list after he escaped, or sic a bunch of his useless lackeys at me. Not only me, but Madison, and Nitara, too. My mind drifted to that night in the alley so long ago when Nitara and I were cornered by him and I used my first trail. No way was I going to let her take a hit for something that I did.

"You were with Peter?" was Nitara's capricious response.

"Yeah," I said, keeping the details to myself, because I knew Nitara well enough to know that this information would send her into orbit, thus forgetting the plan entirely. "It's a plain black dress. Nothing crazy recognisable. It'll be like Nightmare in a skirt. I mean, I'll never be able to wear it again, unless you can fix it up after this, because who knows how many holes there'll be-"

"Slow down," Nitara said, ironically being the one with a level head. "You're about to take on Vulture. I'm sending the route he's on to your phone, and it's up to you to track him to his target location."

"Got it," I breathed, and I felt my phone buzz at my ear, signalling the delivery of Vulture's location á la Peter's cell phone. "If I do this right, it won't matter if Vulture knows who I am. I'm taking him down."

Nitara definitely smiled through the phone. "That's the spirit. Go be a hero."

My knuckles were white as I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up. Go be a hero. I had one chance. If I screwed this up, Vulture could find out who I am, and I can kiss goodbye any semblance of a normal life that I had left.

It was up to me how this went tonight.

I took off running to the first rooftop on Vulture's trail.

I cut through the back of Midtown's abysmally small field to reach the first street of buildings that my trails helped me fly through. Never before was I as grateful as I was now that my dress had built in shorts underneath the skirt, because if tonight went wrong and Vulture took me out, I would have resurrected out of sheer embarrassment and died twice if my final night on Earth was spent flashing half of Queens.

I was careful while switching my gaze from my phone to the rooftops, and suddenly understood why texting and driving was frowned upon. I nearly dropped it twice, and one of those times was while swaying across an intersection from the top of a traffic light pole.

But by cutting across the back of the school, I shaved off the time between us by more than half. And, with the relatively slow traffic in this part of Queens, I was nearing whatever tracker Ned had set up thanks to my faster pace from the flexible rooftops.

A text from Nitara came in over the map.

The tracker stopped. Seven blocks south. Different warehouse, can't miss it.

My heart skipped a beat as I continued to scale the rooftops. Another warehouse? The one from earlier in the week seemed large enough to suit all of Vulture's operations. I racked my brain for answers. Perhaps storage, or a meeting place to sell or deliver.

Sure enough, my phone's image of the tracker paused over a chunk in the map.

I bit my lip. Was that where he kept his suit? I didn't see it in the original warehouse, but the window I had looked in didn't reveal the entire building. It seemed I was going in blind.

I had no idea what was going to be in store for me here.

The seven blocks went by quicker than the day with the ferry, thanks to my racing mind and the plethora of things that had happened in the last half hour alone.

The building came into my sight soon enough. Or, what I think was the building.

I dialed Nitara from the nearest rooftop.

"Hey," she whispered, and I could once again hear the sounds of stomping and music from the gymnasium dance. "How are you doing so far?"

"I'm here," I said. "…I think. Um… is the warehouse at the location you sent… is the roof supposed to be caved in?"

There was a long pause before Nitara answered with a "what?"

I bit my lip once again. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

The rubble in the centre of the warehouse crumbled a bit.

"Ned is here," Nitara said. "He says… moving day? Does that mean anything to you?"

I kept my eyes fixated on the remaining debris from the warehouse that Vulture was supposed to be at. I couldn't believe it. I was barely five minutes behind him, and the damage looked recent, judging by the dust still billowing up in some spaces, and the distant sirens I heard in the distance.

"Moving day?" I questioned. "Not at all. Why?"

Nitara probably cupped her hand over her phone's speaker, but I could hear her talking to Ned anyway. "She's not affiliated with the Avengers. Just Spider-Man. …No. …What?"

After a moment, her voice became clear. "Avengers' Tower," was all she said.

"What about it?"

"They're moving!"

Nitara kept going on about the tower. Which was most likely important information that I may need to take down Vulture. But beneath the rubble of the warehouse, something shifted.

"Gotta go," I uttered into the phone, and hung up while my gaze still lingered on the moving warehouse. First it was a steel tarp that shifted, and I thought I was crazy. But soon after, a cement pillar rolled to the bottom of the wreckage. Then part of a wall. All of it was followed by a plume of dust.

And a dark figure began to emerge.

I jumped from the roof and slipped some trails around a closer streetlight for a better look, and took on as best a defensive stance as I could from my new position. Was Spider-Man here already? Did he neglect to finish Vulture off?

My hands became clammy under my gloves. It would have taken insurmountable strength to escape from a prison of cement such as this one. Strength that I wouldn't put past the likes of the Hulk, or Iron Man. Maybe even Vulture's suit could tackle it.

But Spider-Man stepping to the surface of the ruins was the last thing I expected to see.

He seemed exhausted, broken beyond repair, was dressed in a new (older?) suit and was covered in dust, but I was certain it was him. I let my body fall out of its fearful pose, and jumped from the streetlight to the ground, circling my trails around my body in a spherical skeleton to ease the landing. He didn't look surprised at all to see me.

"You look like shit," was all I could think to say.

Spider-Man leaned against my streetlamp. "You're not so hot yourself."

"I didn't just crawl out of a demolished building," I tempted. "What happened to you? Are you alone?"

"Yes," he huffed. "Vulture… it's moving day."

That means nothing to me, I thought, but kept it to myself. Spider-Man was alone. That meant that unfortunately, there was no Vulture dead in the rubble. On the flip side, Peter must not have stuck around for this fight, and for that, I was grateful.

I had to admit, the more I heard about this moving day, the more relevance I thought it held. "Enlighten me," I asked. "Who's moving where?"

Spider-Man didn't answer, and I refrained myself from the urge to wave my hand in front of his face to bring him back to reality until I realised.

He's not staring into space. He's staring at something else.

I turned to follow his gaze. In the distant skyline, Avengers' Tower stood proudly illuminated above all the other skyscrapers. There wasn't a cloud in the night sky, either.

Spider-Man wordlessly pointed at a billboard at the edge of the parking lot, away from the building, that read H&H Donuts with peeling paper on the front. I figured that wasn't the object of his primary interest, and my thoughts were confirmed when my eyes narrowed in on what was standing on the billboard.

A set of shining, metallic wings swept several feet across the sky as Vulture prepared to take off. To where? My brain questioned, until I took a second glance at Vulture and the Avengers' Tower in the city background.

The two situations connected in my mind. Vulture on a mission. Moving day.

Oh, hell.

Spider-Man wasted no more time, and shot a web at the rising wings that were about to take off and leave us in its dust. The sticky substance found a home on the bottom half of Vulture's suit, and stretched as Vulture slowly became more airborne. I watched in near awe as Spider-Man tightened his grip on the web and looked me straight in the eye with his less-than-functional suit. "Looks like this is it," he said, holding out his other hand. "You coming, or what?"

I thought about the night of Liz's party not even two weeks ago, when Spider-Man and I argued about how to handle Vulture and how valuable human lives were. Now, here we were, at the end of the line, and he wasn't arguing. Wasn't even hassling me to reveal Vulture's identity to him. He just wanted to take my hand.

It was now or never. And if I chose now, I'd have to go all in. Meaning, I would have to be ready for anything.

I clenched my teeth as I yanked off my left glove, then my right, and stuffed them in my only pant pocket under the skirt of my dress with my phone, that would be lucky to come out of this fight unscathed. The violet phosphorescence that illuminated the scars on the palms of my hands now reigned free, and I was comfortable knowing that any trails I may need to use wouldn't completely obliterate my gloves. And, bonus, Spider-Man had absolutely no idea who I was, so it felt like I was in a judgement-free zone. His hand wavered before me, waiting. Vulture was about to shoot off into oblivion, and I knew I had to decide.

Spider-Man had flown with Vulture before. Any doubts I had were carried away with knowing that somehow, he knew how to get out of this situation. I just had to trust him.

I reached out, and he laced his cloaked hand into my brown one, no questions asked about their state. No snarky oh, so that's why you wear gloves. No letting go in surprise, disgust or fear. Instead, he pulled me close and wrapped his arm around my back as I held on for dear life at the same time Vulture took off at super speed into the sky.

My feet left the ground at the speed of a bullet and I instantly had to transfer all my weight to Spider-Man's deathly grip. He held on to me like it was nothing- and it probably did seem like nothing, to him. I had just witnessed him crawl out of several tonnes of cement. This kid could do anything.

The city beneath me kept getting smaller. I felt the same as I had atop the OSCORP tower, with the people below becoming as insignificant as an ant on the sidewalk. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs as we flew through the air, getting higher by the second, but our most important play right now was the element of surprise.

That element was the reason I didn't latch on to Vulture with a trail. He would be aware of our presence, and we were in his domain. We'd be screwed in the sky, so the best course of action would be to wait for him to land and immediately take out his wings, which I could probably accomplish easily with my sharp trails. It seemed Spider-Man understood the concept of waiting this time, too, because we both rode in silence, save the wind rushing past our ears.

I was never more grateful than at this moment that I wasn't actually afraid of heights.

Twin blue lights flickered ahead of our path, past Vulture, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't seeing double. But sure enough, the blue lights bore into me like the eyes of a predator in the wild as we headed for them full speed ahead.

"Oh," I gasped, clutching Spider-Man tighter, even though his hold on me was already iron-grip. "Oh, my God, oh, no, no, what is that-"

I wasn't even sure Spider-Man could hear me through the wind, but he didn't need to reply as we watched Vulture stop seemingly midair, and punch his arms upwards. "What-"

I didn't get to finish asking my question pertaining to what was happening, because before I could say another word, Spider-Man and I both slammed upwards into a chunk of metal with so much force I was surprised Vulture didn't hear us trailing along behind him.

Vulture was busy attaching purple magnets to the metal- the plane, my brain decoded, we were on a plane- that were the same colour as my phosphorescence. No doubt was it some of the stuff he cooked up in his warehouse.

"You've got to be kidding me," Spider-Man huffed as he attempted to move forward on the plane, but his webs fell victim to the wind every time he tried to shoot them ahead.

"Hold on," I said, and with my back covered by Spider-Man's arm, I used my hands to send sharpened trails straight into the metal body of the plane. The horrible sound of metal tearing filled my ears, but when I looked over at Vulture to see whether he heard the commotion this time, there was no trace of him except for his abandoned suit sticking to the plane.

"He's inside," Spider-Man said, sending another web over to the forsaken wings, yet missing once again. "I never thought I'd say this, but I hate physics so much."

"You can let go of me," I called. "I've got a grip on the plane. I'm not going anywhere."

Spider-Man didn't let go. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, and sent another trail from my other hand into the bottom of the plane. "Trust me!"

Without another word, Spider-Man released his death grip of my torso, and I was free to move closer to Vulture while simultaneously blocking some of the wind from hitting my partner. I tried to think of it as reverse-rock climbing, and not climbing down a moving plane thousands of feet in the air.

"Head for the purple!" Spider-Man shouted, and I looked up to see the magnetized objects Vulture had stuck to the exterior of the aircraft. "They'll get you inside!"

Through the hair flapping wildly over my eyes, I could make out the violet glow coming from a few feet in front of me. I had no idea how on Earth Spider-Man knew what the items' purpose was, but if it got me inside, hopefully I could ask him later if we both made it to the ground in one piece.

Once I was far enough away from him, I used two trails in my back for extra support as I clambered over to the empty suit, vaguely hearing webs shooting from behind me, and the sound of movement on the metal of the plane reverberated to where I was now. I couldn't turn my head to look, but I was positive that Spider-Man was following my footsteps now without the wind as an obstacle.

I had crawled up far enough that the hazy violet vortex was right above my head. The surface was warped, but I could see a purple filter of the plane's interior. Spider-Man had said this would get me inside, but at a first glance, I couldn't say I trusted whatever alien tech this was to not rearrange my organs if I went through it.

Baby steps, I thought as I stuck my index finger through the portal. It felt like I had broken through a wet film, and a buzzing sensation encompassed my skin, but I felt it leave the part of my finger that was above the entrance after a few seconds. Here goes nothing.

I sent my whole hand through the opening, and with a little help from the trails on my back, hoisted myself up all the way after situating the three I was using in a triangle above me. However the portal worked, I reveled at how it preserved the air pressure of the plane, and relished in the stillness of the air and break I got from being in the wind. Just by patting my hair, I could tell I would need to brush it for three days straight to have it return to normal.

Around me were boxes. Stacked up on each other, strapped to the floor, strapped to the walls. There were columns and rows to navigate around the layers of them, and I felt as if I had just stepped inside a Costco.

But I certainly wasn't alone. For the first time, I was in the presence of Adrian Toomes, sans Vulture costume. He was leaning over a box that had its lid thrown to the side, most likely staring at something worth more than my entire inheritance. He was in a horrible fur-lined jacket that looked like it hadn't been washed since the dawn of time, and he almost didn't notice my arrival.

Almost.

"Nice evening out," Vulture quipped, not even looking up from whatever box of treasures he had stumbled upon. "Good for flying."

"I found it a bit windy," I drawled, leaning back onto a wall of sealed boxes.

I knew I had the upper hand here, even without Spider-Man to back me up. His only formidable weapon, his suit, was currently parked beneath us. All he had to work with was his brain.

I could only hear my own heart beating in the silence that followed before Vulture lifted his head from his newfound box. "You know," he began, scratching the back of his neck and looking rather disinterested in the whole conversation. "You and I have got to stop meeting like this."

"I agree," I said, words I never before thought I would say to the likes of Adrian Toomes escaping my lips. "Maybe we could schedule next time. I'm thinking at the courthouse?"

Vulture chuckled. "Kid, you can't fly. Get out of the sky, go back to your little house, and get off my radar. I'm giving you a ticket out of here. Those are hard to come by."

"You think I can leave," I said quietly. "You think I can just walk out of here and forget that any of this ever happened. It's not that simple."

Vulture adjusted a metal cuff around his sleeve. "Oh, yeah? That's funny, because I thought I just laid it out pretty clear for you."

I held our stare, but didn't ignore what he was fiddling with on his arm. I took a second to reassure myself. I had the high ground, and he knew it. He was either just downplaying the pressure he was under, or he had another card up his sleeve. Literally.

"You missed the part where you did this to me," I hissed. "If you hadn't tried to kill me that night, I wouldn't be here ruining this perfectly fine evening. Karma's a bitch, Adrian. You can't outrun the lives you've ruined."

And there it was. Vulture's demeanour changed. I had the advantage in more ways than one- strength, and then there was the fact that I knew his name, but he didn't know mine.

And, boy, did it feel great to be stepping on his neck.

The arm I was watching from the corner of my eye twitched a half millimetre, and before he could raise his entire hand, I readied the trails on my back to cling to a pipe on the roof as a light erupted from the tip of the metal cuff. I was in the air as the bolt of energy stormed through the space I was just occupying, and after seeing what a terrible shot he was, Vulture backstepped and pulled the open box from the shelf, emptying its contents onto the floor, blocking my view of half the aisle, and ran away from where I landed quite gracefully, considering the myriad of arc reactors littered on the floor. I watched as one rolled completely out of the plane, right through the portal and into the expanse of the sky as I began to chase after Vulture.

It was easier said than done. The columns of boxes in the plane were arranged into multiple columns, so tall that I couldn't spot Vulture's head above them. The only hints at my disposal were the bursts of movement I saw between the inch-long spaces.

The column to the left. I took a sharp turn, just in time to see Vulture shrink behind another set of boxes on the right. I gritted my teeth and dashed after him, but stumbled when a sudden change of pressure rocked the cabin.

Gripping the box closest to me, I rounded the next corner so that I had gone in a full circle. On the floor, the purple entrance was sparking in an unstable state, and there was no sign of Vulture.

I braced myself for my exit, and to be met with impenetrable wind once again.

It could be worse, I thought. Vulture could have taken the time to disable the portal after leaving, and then I'd be stuck on an invisible jet that, assuming from the abundance of arc reactors, would bring me straight to Tony Stark. And if I had to choose between Stark and the Vulture, I would pick Toomes a thousand times over in order to avoid coming face to face with the man partially responsible for my father's death.

With my trails sturdy in the metal, I crawled back onto the outer side of the plane, and all sounds coming from Vulture and Spider-Man escaped me as the wind deafened the air around me. It didn't matter, though. I could see them clear as day at the far side of the plane, and Vulture was doing a fine job of cutting through the metal with his wings.

He's already destroyed the paint job, I thought to myself as I stuck my trails through the metal to ascend the side of the plane, no longer worrying about the holes they left behind. Stark was a multibillionaire. I'm sure he could afford to replace part of a plane.

I spied one of the engines in the corner of my eye, and a red and blue flash soaring towards it at top speed. I barely had the time to blink before I watched Spider-Man go flying into the engine.

I nearly lost my grip on the plane as I tried to process what I just witnessed. Spider-Man flew into a jet engine. Vulture pushed him into a jet engine. The jet engine had yet to spew out his remains, or he was completely reduced to atoms. I didn't know which option was worse.

Directly after, Vulture landed on the engine with his wings pointed to where Spider-Man had just dived. Orange sparks erupted from the metal clashing against metal, and I watched in bewilderment as Vulture was sent flying back when the entire engine came apart from the jet. It didn't fly off,, though- instead, it hovered in the air momentarily.

I tried to keep my hair out of my eyes so I could witness what was happening. Without my brown strands blinding me, in the sky I could make out a thin web keeping the engine from falling.

No way.

Option three, it seemed, was that Spider-Man had just survived falling headfirst into a jet engine, and it was precisely this moment when I felt so very out of place.

Nonetheless, I finished crawling to the top just as Spider-Man released the engine with his web and it was sent flying in the direction of Vulture. I didn't look down, but I wondered whether or not we were above land or water, and hoped it was the latter.

On the top of the plane, a web was shot towards me and Spider-Man sprung to my side, out of breath and, miraculously, in one piece. I stared at him incredulously before either of us spoke.

"If we're lucky," I shouted, "that engine will have hit him on its way down."

Of course, the universe was against us, and my hope was quenched when a winged figure flew back up to our altitude and surged towards us.

"Split!" I yelled, and as Vulture powered through the air with his wings scratching the metal, Spider-Man and I rolled in opposite directions of each other as the wing cut through the metal we were just side by side on. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard, and I wasn't given a break as Vulture flew to the end of the plane and turned around for a round two.

I rolled back to my original spot, in front of the main engine in the middle of the plane. If my estimations were correct, we were over the East River right now, not Manhattan or Queens. If I couldn't take Vulture down and save the plane, I could take him down with it.

Spider-Man, now far on my left, seemed to notice my plan. I only hoped that Vulture was too blinded by his hatred for us to catch on as well.

I wrapped a trail, not a sharp one, around Spider-Man, and nodded at him when he looked over in confusion.

"Trust me with this!"

"You have to be fast," he gasped. "If you're not fast enough, we are so, so, so screwed-"

I stopped listening when the searing squeal of metal on metal filled my ears again, and Vulture came barrelling towards us both.

"Move!" shouted Spider-Man, but I waited.

Closer… closer…

"You're making it- really hard-for me to trust you right now!" Spider-Man yelled, but I still waited. Vulture was closer now, so close that it didn't take heightened vision to see he was incoming.

Just another second. And…

Just as Spider-Man and I were both going to be impaled by his wings, I sprang us out of the way of the engine, and watched behind me as Vulture's rigid wings collided with the sparking metal. Relieved, I released Spider-Man from the soft grip of my trail, and sharpened it once again for extra footing on the plane. After this, he probably wouldn't trust me again to think fast, but if we got off this plane alive, that would be the least of my worries.

The change in altitude happened in an instant. With the main and right engine both out of commission, the aircraft drifted downwards, but stayed relatively upright in the descent.

"You're out of your mind," Spider-Man gasped, lying flat on the metal next to me, relieved I hadn't just damned us both. "You're insane."

"Maybe," I said, regaining my footing on the unpredictable plane. "But we're alive, aren't we?"

I stood up completely with my trails embedded in the metal, keeping me steady. Where we were now, some clouds had started to collect, and it was difficult to see ahead.

Beneath me feet, the plane's invisibility reflectors flickered. Most of what the metal displayed appeared to be clouds, but some orange lights flickered through, along with red glows. Did we really bang up the plane so much that its invisibility system was malfunctioning?

I looked back up at the clouds we were flying in to. Even at the pace we were crashing at, this wasn't going to be a pretty landing, especially in the middle of the East River. I had no way to float in the water, and I couldn't count on my trails working underwater. The closest I had ever gotten to that was using them in rain, and now wasn't the time to gamble that they would work. Spider-Man had been in this position before, where he probably fell hundreds of feet through the air the night of Liz's party- how did he make it out? Could he do it again for both of us?

Ahead of me, an orange light flickered, and I squinted at the direction it came from. Directly in front of me.

That's weird, I thought, mesmerized momentarily by the several lights that began to become visible through the hazy clouds. They look like the ones on the plane.

At that sudden realization, my heart dropped. The East River wasn't ahead of us. It was New York.

"Holy shit," I breathed, and then tried to get Spider-Man's attention. "Holy shit!"

Spider-Man glanced at me, I pointed to the sky ahead of us, and he followed my hand to the city lights that were becoming closer with every second. I knew he understood, because without even wasting a second, he shot a web at the wing of the plane and pulled hard.

I wanted to say, what the hell does this guy think he's doing? but it dawned on me that Spider-Man knew exactly what he was doing. This was the same guy that earlier, had lifted the roof of a warehouse off of his back. It was my turn to trust him.

And when the plane gradually began to turn, I knew I had made the right decision.

A clang sounded from behind me, and I jumped around in surprise. My trails were the only thing keeping me on the plane as it turned on an angle, and it seemed Vulture had returned and was using his wings for the same purpose.

I would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire. The engine didn't kill him, and the plane was going down with Spider-Man and I on it- so why didn't he try to escape?

I was most likely about to plummet to my death. I sent a silent apology to Nitara. This probably wasn't how she wanted it to end. This time, I did laugh. After listening for weeks to her insufferable revenge isn't the answer speeches, now it was the only thing that was still within my grasp.

Vulture was right there, more focused on destroying part of the plane than escaping, or disposing of the two biggest thorns in his side. His back was facing me, and he was entirely preoccupied. This was my chance.

I maneuvered towards him, using my trails to stay upright as I moved forwards on the crooked surface. One thought continuously raced through my head. If I was going to die, he was coming with me.

I was practically running, and only paced myself due to the fact that if I released my trails, I would plummet to the ground. Vulture was the only one of us here that could secure a safe exit. Under my watch, that wouldn't be happening- especially not with some of the loot from the plane.

Once I was close enough, I shot a trail directly into Vulture's wing. Like the metal of the plane, my trail tore through it like tissue paper. I may not have had an understanding of mechanics, but I knew enough to be sure that a hole torn in a wing would compromise flying.

I expected Vulture to be angry, and rightfully so, but I was not expecting him to dive at me like a pro wrestler. So when I saw him fly at me through the air, I couldn't think of an alternative plan quick enough to get me out of his grip.

And grip, he had. The metal talon of his arm the side of his damaged wing pinned me to the plane like a billiard dart, and it wasn't until the plane finally collided with something that I was released.

I should specify that I was released from the plane at the beginning of the crash, not from Vulture. The fabric of my shirt was still caught in his talon when we were both sent airborne. I could feel the back of my dress beginning to tear from where he held it, and knew that I didn't have long until it broke. As inconvenient as it was to be stuck to Vulture, it was better than flying off the plane and hitting the ground solo.

With one wing, Vulture was flying crooked, but flying nonetheless. With every turn he took, I felt the seams rip a little more. I could tell there was no way for Vulture to properly fly away, and that that was why he was making a slow descent towards the ground with the rest of the plane around us.

At this point, I had lost complete sight of Spider-Man. There was just smoke, flames, and the deafening roar of a crashing plane.

We sailed through the debris for just another moment until I felt the fabric at my neck tear, and I was sent plowing to the ground. I braced myself for the absolute destruction of my skin on whatever part of the city we had landed on, but it didn't come. Instead, it felt like I was skidding along a trampoline at top speed until my body came to a stop.

The blazing heat from the crash saturated the air on the beach as I haphazardly stood up, not without stumbling. My left shoe was gone, and the sand was hotter than it was on a hot summer afternoon. Half-dragging and half-hopping myself away from the fire starting behind me, I scanned the immediate area for Vulture or Spider-Man.

It was hard to focus with the overpowering ringing in my ears, and the overwhelming realisation that I was still alive. My mind felt massacred beyond repair. It was a similar feeling to when I was in the Washington Monument elevator. Everything that I took in from my senses combined inside my head, and it took me a moment to concentrate on the goal.

My mind drifted to Vesna Vulovic. A week or two ago I had been reading Wikipedia articles for fun, and remembered how she survived a plane crash from more than thirty-thousand feet in the air. It made total sense that I was alive right now, and even more sense that I was thinking about random facts that didn't matter to the situation at hand. Was I in shock? I looked down at my body, and apart from the dust on my dress and legs, I didn't spot any life-threatening injuries. I wiped my hand against my forehead, and it came back red and dusty.

Crap. I wiped my hand against my head again. Dust was the last thing I wanted to get in a cut.

"Hey," I called out, looking for one of the two passengers. I couldn't be the only one who had survived. "Hey!"

Despite my mask, my throat felt like it was covered in a layer of smoke. I coughed and prepared to call out again when I heard metal falling behind me, and the distinct sounds of machinery mimicking footsteps from behind me.

"Fuck!" I hollered. "Why did you have to survive? Why not Spider-"

I was cut off when a sharp, white hot metal claw swiped into my side and spun me around, and I yelped through the pain of what felt like my internal organs being rearranged. Shit, I thought. So much for no life-threatening injuries.

My vision blurred the scene in front of me, but the black figure towering over me was, without a doubt, Vulture. That, or a rogue Iron-Man suit, but I placed my bets on the first option. My thoughts were confirmed when a wing shot towards my face, and I closed my eyes to brace for impact, but it never came. Instead, I was thrown back several steps and slammed against something hot, with the tip of Vulture's wings expertly pinning my dress sleeves to the wreckage behind me.

I focused on taking deep breaths and not looking down to assess the damage that I could feel on my right side. There was no telling how deep it was. The slam to my head warmed my vision even more, but despite the nausea that was starting to build up in my chest for a multitude of reasons, my eyes began to depict details normally.

Details, meaning the sneer that was etched on Vulture's face as he observed our situation.

"You little brat," he snarled. "Look around you. This? This is your fault."

I coughed again, and I could feel a warm liquid bubbling up in my throat. It wasn't bile. I needed out of this situation. If I used a trail now, I would most definitely vomit, and my thoughts were still scattered in my brain. I could barely focus to move my eyes where I wanted, but that was what I settled on. Keeping my gaze to my left, I pretended to stare past Vulture's shoulder.

I lifted a finger to point. "Spider. Spider-Man."

There was nothing but piles of flaming wreckage in the direction I pointed in, and unless Spider-Man was a cat, which he wasn't, he was a Spider, he didn't have nine lives to spare. I couldn't fathom how he'd managed to survive the crash. And despite Vesna, I couldn't fathom how I did, either.

But my quick thinking paid off, and Vulture dropped me into the sand as he spun around and stomped into the portion of the wreckage I pointed at. I fell first onto my knees, then my hands, and promptly hurled a stream of blood into the sand. Then another, and another.

The blood smelled twice as metallic as normal thanks to the heat, and it was promptly absorbed by the light grains of sand that were thirsting for liquid. A crimson rivulet of he stuff dripped onto my left eyelash, and I had to perform a flurry of blinks to see past it. I turned from my stomach onto my back, away from the blood, and let the warmth of the sand engulf my body. With wary eyes, I lifted my head to examine my torso.

It wasn't great.

Though my dress was black, it was pressed against my skin, partly from the fabric and partly from the blood making it stick. There were three long gashes that circled from beneath my ribs to above my hips that bled freely through the rips of the cotton.

Not good, I thought as I undid my mask. When my face was free from it, I took a deep breath of ash-filled air and cherished what oxygen it provided. I fumbled a bit with the long strip of fabric, but eventually straightened it out, and wrapped it around my midsection tightly.

I nearly screamed at the feeling of the mask pressing against my side, and cringed when I thought about the stain in the clothing. Nitara would certainly be asking me plenty of questions when I gave it to her to remove the stain from.

I tied the two ends together so that the mask covered the wound. I had just survived a plane crash. No way in hell was I going to die from exsanguination.

With shaky, feeble legs, I used my arms to stand up. The ringing in my ears had long since receded, and now that I observed the wreckage with clarity, it dawned on me just how serious this was.

I wanted to laugh. Fuck you, Tony Stark. You killed my father, so I crashed your plane. We were even now.

What did I do now? Run? Or go fight Vulture? I had a random surge of energy that came from standing up, but I could be mistaking it for adrenaline. I could use my trails. I would probably throw up more blood, but I could use them.

I took a step in the direction I had sent Vulture in and cursed at the sand in my one remaining shoe. Disgusting. It was probably in my hair. I'd be washing it off for the rest of the week.

A light wind blew past the ruined plane, making the flames dance on the metal and swirling the heat through the air. My hair raised slightly off my shoulders, and the breeze licked at the sweat that was layering my shoulders. As I stood perched in the sand, pressing my hand against my side, staring into the wreckage, I saw something move.

There was a person standing next to what was once the wing of a plane. He was probably sweltering beneath the red and blue outfit he donned, and his brown hair blew in the wind like mine. Our eyes met at that moment, and in the glint of his irises, the reflection of fire flickered. For just a second, I wasn't aware of how fucked I was. Instead, the same thought was on repeat. Why are you dressed as Spider-Man, Peter?

I blinked, and everything froze.

The flames stopped burning. The ashes stopped lifting. Smoke stopped rising, and most importantly, my heart stopped beating.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up in the rapids of unfurling events. There was Peter, standing in the wreckage of a plane crash. Dressed as Spider-Man. Just without a mask.

My mouth went dry, and not because of the scorching heat that surrounded me from every angle.

Peter said nothing. He just stared.

I felt the ghost of a smile haunt my face. We were both really stupid.

I wondered who was going to say something first. Here we were, two introverts, locked in a staring competition and both greeted with the biggest revelation of our short-lived careers. It only made sense that we were interrupted when a flying metal man dove through the air and tackled Spider-Man into the ground.

My brain put our meeting on standby as I jumped into action. I finally had a goal to focus on. It was one that I should have had since the beginning of this nightmare, really.

Save Peter Parker.

I willed my feet to kick up the sand and send me sprinting towards the two plane crash survivors. Save Peter Parker.

I formed four trails from my back, with two on each of my sides, them awaiting their commands. Save Peter Parker.

My side burned, my stomach was inside out and upside down, and blood was still trickling from my head. A flash of dizziness threatened to take me down. Save Peter Parker.

At first glance, it seemed Peter Parker had saved himself. Vulture was thrown off of him with a web, and the bird slammed into wreckage on the perimetre of the sandy area we stood in. Even through my daze, I could see Peter's form sway as he hobbled towards Vulture. It looked like he was about to make the same mistake I did- underestimating the wings.

"Wait," I said, except my voice was hoarse, and ten times quieter than I intended. Peter held up his arm, and I presumed he was about to shoot a web at Toomes, but I watched as the right wing inched out of place from behind Vulture's back, and knew how this encounter would end.

Spider-Man- or, rather Peter's webs were incredibly durable, and I had countless questions about how he acquired them, but the tips of Vulture's wings were razor sharp. My torso was living, bleeding proof of that. If I had to place bets, objectively, the webs were no match for the piercing metal.

I sent the two trails on my left flying towards the extended wing that was about to impale Peter through his hand, through his chest, and probably to the bent metal shard behind him, and wrapped them both around the metal and tugged. For momentum, I pulled back with my hand and the trails followed my lead, yanking the wing out of the air and towards me. Not only did I move Vulture's wing, but his entire suit left the ground and careened in my direction with how hard I pulled. I had to roll out of the way to avoid his crash-landing face first in the sand.

I stared at my hand. I either didn't know my own strength, or my depth perception was way off.

Without my mask on anymore, there was nothing to filter the smoke through my lungs. I hacked like I smoked six packs a day as I tried to jog towards Peter, but ended up walking bent on my right side to ebb the spikes of pain radiating from it.

"Diana," Peter deadpanned, his voice hollow. "You're… you're Nightmare. Wow. That makes so much sense."

I collapsed into Peter's front, and wrapped my arms under his so that I was gripping his shoulders like my life depended on it. "You shouldn't be here," I gasped. "And… we have so much to talk about."

I was coughing by the end of the sentence, but Peter just returned the hug, and for just a second, the world melted away.

Here we were again. When we let go, we were going to be thrown back into the hell that was heroism. Except this time, it wasn't so bad. I breathed in the ash-covered sweater covering Peter's chest, and if I thought hard enough, I could imagine we were just sitting next to a bonfire or something, and not constantly putting our lives in danger.

I thought about the alleys, the two thieves, the mugger and the weapons deal. They were all blood-freezing scary at the time, but I would trade anything to be in those situations compared to what I was enduring now.

I buried my face deeper in the smoky red fabric. Almost anything.

"We'll talk about it," Peter muttered, holding on to me like I weighed no more than a feather. "As soon as we're out of here."

Gradually, I slipped out of his arms and knelt in the sand. Peter didn't waste a second before kneeling down next to me. "Are you okay?"

I laughed. No, obviously not. Peter was probably referring to the sizeable amount of blood on my face, and I laughed more when I realised that he was unaware of the gashes in my side which, personally, donned on me as more of a problem than whatever shrapnel had struck my face.

But Peter stood before me, and we had a job to do. So, no was never an option.

"You don't just walk away from a plane crash scot-free," I seethed, clenching my teeth as I gingerly stood back up. I observed Peter, who from a first glance, looked a little beat up at most. "Well… most people don't. But I'll live."

With the concerned look that Peter gave me, I could tell that he was having some difficulty buying that, but I ignored it and turned to find Vulture. "Let's just take care of this. Then we can get out of here."

When I started towards where I last saw Vulture, I stopped dead in my tracks. The space where I had thrown him was vacant, and my head began to swim when I searched the wreckage for him nearby.

"He was just here," I mumbled. "He was just here… Where-"

A mechanical whirring engulfed my ears as sand was blown into my face by something moving so fast, I didn't even get a chance to see it go by as I was temporarily blinded. When I got my focus back, I narrowed my gaze on the spot where Peter was just standing- it was empty.

A loud clanging sounded from beyond the clearing we were in, and I haphazardly ran towards it, ignoring the stinging sensation that encompassed my entire right side. There were only three of us in the wreckage, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. No doubt had some coastal security alerted the authorities, if they didn't already know about this themselves. Avoiding the hot scrap metal and shrapnel buried in the sand as I trekked towards the sound of the struggle, the situation became clearer. I had just assisted in crashing a plane in New York City. The last time that happened, it didn't exactly go over well. Terrorism would be the first thing on peoples' minds when they heard about this.

I shuddered. Shit. The clanging sound had stopped, but it still felt like I could hear an echo of it in my head when only scuffling remained. If anything, Peter and I needed to get out of here before anyone found us.

Suddenly, even the noise of movement stopped, and only the crackling of flames was audible to my ears. My head was still a little fuzzy. Something wasn't right. Even though it was quiet, I should still have been able to hear something to indicate Vulture or Peter's presence. It felt like my senses were dimmed.

Fuck, I thought. Talk about bad timing.

I didn't even hear the familiar whirring that signaled the approach of Vulture until he dove through the veil of smoke and knocked me to the ground.

All of a sudden, the nausea was back in full force, and I couldn't even move to ease the feeling due to the wind being knocked out of me. I wasn't a fan of Vulture flying that low, and trembled at the prospect of him coming back for a round two.

"We're not your fucking bowling pins," I snarled as I log rolled out of the place I was just in. Not five seconds later, Vulture made another sweep of the path he took before, and the wind from his glide blew some of my hair into the blood that was still plastered to my face, and some into my mouth. I sputtered an insult that I knew he wouldn't hear as I rolled again, in case he came back.

He didn't. Which only meant one thing.

"Peter," I gasped, and immediately looked in the direction that Vulture had first came, then disappeared into. He would only leave me be to finish off Peter, no other reason. I started to army crawl across the sand, and cringed whenever I touched a piece of shrapnel.

Oh, how I wished it would rain.

"Peter," I whispered, then called again, only louder. I didn't care anymore if Vulture heard me. I just needed to find Peter, because that was always the plan, and I wasn't about to deviate from it now. Take on Vulture when he wasn't in his warehouse, and do it with Spider-Man, or failure would be the result. Peter being Spider-Man didn't change anything about Operation Asshat, which was a name I felt so much more strongly about now than ever.

My back burned, and it wasn't from the heat. My trails were waiting to be used again. Pleading, almost. Doing so probably wouldn't make me feel better, but neither would not using them. So, why not?

I brought back the four trails I had had before. With four, it seemed like enough length and power were provided that allowed me to multitask than when I used more. Strength was what I needed right now, so four was the magic number. I buried the two bottom trails into the sand and tentatively regained my footing, trying to remind myself to breathe properly through the pain that my entire chest felt thanks to Vulture's latest attack.

I needed the upper hand. If I could somehow incapacitate Vulture, then Peter would have a better chance at beating him. I looked around through the smoke and rubble. I still wasn't sure where Peter even was, or if he was all right. All I knew was that I was alone.

I caught movement on my left. I had to put my faith in something. I had to believe that Peter would be fine. I lifted my trails menacingly in the air, ready to attack or defend. I hoped that by the time I was done with him, Vulture would be no more than Peter's sloppy seconds.

When I first approached him, he didn't even notice me.

I wasn't going to lie. After all the motivation it took for me to get off my ass after he knocked me down, it was a little disheartening for him to be preoccupied with some box on the ground rather than face me.

"Hey, Mothman," I spat through lungs full of smoke and ash. "Over here."

Vulture's mechanical body didn't even get to completely rotate in my direction before I sent two trails flying at him. With the speed of a cheetah, he inverted his wings inwards to his body, and my trails sailed past both of his sides. The sharp violet ropes buried themselves into a large square of metal above Vulture's head, and I made the ends curl inward to stay secure.

"Nice try," Vulture said, wrapping the metal talons of his feet around the box that he was previously evaluating. "But you missed."

Vulture bent his knees to prepare to take off, and as he leapt off the ground with the box in tow, I simultaneously pulled forward with my trails. The slab of metal that they were attached to hindered the speed that I pulled at, but I used enough force to dislodge it from the pile of wreckage it was situated in. It fell down on Vulture just as he lifted himself from the ground, and his head collided with the metal with a reverberating clang.

"I didn't miss," I breathed, kneeling down and sending my trails circling around his talons. With a swift slice, I separated the metal from the suit, and the box tumbled back onto the sand.

"Wings," a voice said behind me, and I swivelled my back to see Peter stumbling towards us. His mask was still off, and it looked like he had a nosebleed. He seemed dustier than before, and walked with a light limp.

I swallowed. Peter wouldn't walk with a limp if he could hide it.

"Get his wings," he said again.

Shaking out of my stupor, I turned back to Vulture and used my trails to cut off the dilapidated wings that hung uselessly from his suit. Between the first and second wing removal, he emitted a low yelling sound. It was one presumably laced with fury and defeat.

Because that's all he was now. Defeated.

"Shut up," I glowered. "Your right wing didn't work anyway."

With the help of Peter, we both grabbed an arm of Adrian and pulled, releasing him from the crumpled metal cage that I had dropped on him.

"We have two options," I began. "I can use the metal to impale him here. It'll look like part of the crash. Or I could give him a taste of his own medicine, and…" I imitated my trails with my fingers. "Zap. I like that one. It's more poetic."

Peter rested a hand on my shoulder, but I felt that it was more for his sake than mine, since he was starting to waver where he was standing. "Option three," he said quietly. "We leave him here for the authorities."

I scoffed. "So, now you're thinking first, acting later. Where was that last Tuesday at Liz's party?"

"You were right then," Peter protested. His brown eyes were practically piercing mine, and I could tell he wasn't just picking words out of thin air. He seemed to have wanted to say this for a very long time. "I've been doing this for so long, and I had so much betting on whether or not I caught Vulture. And I thought I was right, so I didn't listen to you. Look where that got us. You're a freaking genius, Diana, and I don't want you to mess up everything you've worked for just to be subjective and get revenge. You can trust me when I say, it's not worth it."

My eyes slipped over to Vulture, who was unmoving. Then back at Peter.

I thought back to the night in my apartment after Nitara and I had saved that woman. Even though Vulture got away, it felt good to save her. It was like I had opened a new web of opportunities for another person. And then, I thought about time after time when I continued to save people in lieu of Vulture's evasiveness. Had I never caught up to Vulture, I probably would have kept being Nightmare.

I wanted to keep being Nightmare.

I wanted to be a hero.

I bit my lip. Going to jail for murder wasn't exactly what heroes did. Although, Tony Stark was still walking freely around his own stupid headquarters, not paying up for all the death he caused. The death of my father.

One by one, I retracted my trails back into my back. I wasn't going to be like Stark. I was going to be what a hero should be. Someone who didn't accept collateral damage. Hell, Vulture was Liz's father, and if I killed him here I'd only be doing to her what Stark did to me. I may have been contemplating murder just a moment ago, but I had values. And above all, I wasn't a hypocrite. I wasn't going to ruin someone else's life just to make me feel better about myself.

"Option three," I said. "Let's get out of here."

Wordlessly, Peter positioned Vulture against the back of the chunk of plane I had moved, and used at least ten layers of webbing to lock him into place. In the time it took him to do that, nausea returned back to my chest in full force, and even though I didn't throw up- I wasn't sure I had anything left to throw up- I kneeled farther away from the two of them in case my body changed its mind.

And that's when I noticed the glowing.

It was coming from the box that Vulture had tried to steal before Peter and I had stopped him. A soft, violet glow, the same as my trails, was perforating the tightly sealed edges of the person-sized container.

"Peter," I called, backing away from the threat. "Does he know what's in this?"

Peter walked over to me, abandoning Vulture by the metal, and observed the box. Without even opening it- which, admittedly, I didn't want to open it, because there could be an alien in there, for all I knew- I saw the exact moment the realisation of the contents crossed hi face. "Chitauri radiation core," he whispered. "Radiation… shit! Run!"

I didn't need to be told twice, but after all my body had just been through, my 'run' was nothing more than Pheidippidesafter the battle of Marathon.

The explosion happened in slow motion. At the beginning, I felt Peter cover my back with his body and tackle me to the sand as a wave of heat engulfed the immediate area around the box. The sound of the container being torn apart from the inside soon followed, and my ears still hadn't recovered from the first blast of the night.

I took in a mouthful of sand as we landed and a fresh set of burning ash soon covered my hair and clothes, but I was relatively unscathed. Peter slowly got up off of me, allowing me to breathe normally again, and I knew he would be okay as well. But as he stood up, his eyes settled on something several feet away.

Vulture was still against the plane, stuck from the webbing, but his left side was completely singed, and what skin he had exposed was red from the burn.

"He's okay," Peter observed, helping me get back on my feet. "He'll be fine. We need to go."

My racing thoughts were in no position to organise themselves and search for a reason to argue, so I followed the direction that Peter pulled me in. Between the ringing in my ears, I could make out sirens in the far distance, and every second that we stayed behind was a second that could lead to us getting caught.

"Hey," Peter said, stopping and pointing to something in the sky. It took me longer than normal to focus on his finger and to follow it to whatever piqued his interest. When I did, between wafts of smoke, was a roller coaster towering the beach. "Hold on again," he said. "Like earlier."

I circled my arms around Peter's body, but I lacked the strength I had from earlier. Without either of us saying anything, I could tell Peter already knew it by the way he held on to me tighter than before as we left the ground and soared up the metal scaffolding to the top arch of the coaster.

Just when I was going to ask where the hell we were going to sit, Peter shot his webs between the metal and fashioned a net. I hadn't actually touched a web before, and I realised this only as I was about to be let go onto it. I couldn't help but question the structural integrity of the thing, and my heart made a leap in my chest when Peter let me go and took the place next to me on it.

It was actually kind of nice.

It wasn't sticky in the sense that I couldn't move, and it reminded me of the hammock at my sister's farm upstate. When I looked up at the night sky, it was almost as if I could forget about the hell that had just taken place below.

Peter's head was opposite mine, and it felt the exact same as the night we spent atop the OSCORP tower. It was just him, me, and the sky. No Spider-Man, no Nightmare, and best of all, no Vulture. All of our problems remained on the ground.

My short-lived utopia was shattered by Peter's next five words. "All right. Let's talk."