The grand ballroom glittered with Vale's elite. Crystal chandeliers, orchestral music, champagne flowing. Weiss Schnee stood near her father, maintaining her practiced composure despite clearly wanting to be anywhere else.
Spider-Man perched on a nearby rooftop, watching through a window.
Spider-Man (internal):
Fancy party. Rich people doing rich people things. Just a routine patrol—
His spider-sense screamed.
Spider-Man: "Oh no—"
The windows shattered inward. White Fang operatives poured through—masked, armed, coordinated.
thwip!
Spider-Man crashed through the skylight, webbing two operatives mid-air before they could fire.
Spider-Man: "Sorry to crash the party, but you guys forgot your invitations!"
Chaos erupted. Guests screamed and scattered. Security moved in, but the White Fang were ready—dust rounds, coordinated movements.
Then Spider-Man saw her—Weiss, being dragged toward the exit by three White Fang members.
Spider-Man: "Yeah, kidnapping's a hard no from me!"
He swung forward—
—and froze mid-air as his spider-sense pulsed differently. Sharper. More dangerous.
A red blade sliced through his webline.
Spider-Man flipped, landing in a crouch as a figure stepped forward through the smoke.
Adam Taurus.
The horned mask. The red hair. Wilt and Blush sheathed at his side, one hand resting casually on the hilt.
Adam (cold): "The vigilante. I've heard about you."
Spider-Man: "And I've heard about you. Bull guy, right? Anger issues? Moonlight sword enthusiast?"
Adam's hand tightened on his weapon.
Adam: "Step aside, spider. This doesn't concern you."
Spider-Man: "See, that's where you're wrong. Girl getting kidnapped? That very much concerns me."
Adam drew Wilt in one fluid motion.
[The Fight]
Adam moved like lightning—a diagonal slash that would've cleaved Spider-Man in half.
But spider-sense fired a split-second early.
Spider-Man twisted, the blade passing inches from his ribs. He fired a web at Adam's feet—
—Adam cut through it effortlessly, advancing.
Spider-Man (internal):
Okay. Fast. Skilled. And that sword cuts through webbing like butter. Great.
Another slash. Another dodge.
Adam's semblance was charging—Spider-Man could feel it through his sense, energy building with each blocked or deflected strike.
Spider-Man: "You know, most people at least try to talk it out first!"
Adam: "I'm done talking."
A horizontal slash—Spider-Man backflipped over it, firing twin weblines at the ceiling and yanking himself up.
Adam leapt after him, impossibly fast, blade gleaming.
CLANG!
Spider-Man twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding decapitation. He webbed a chandelier and swung it at Adam—
—who sliced it in half without breaking stride.
The fight spilled across the ballroom. Guests long evacuated. Just Spider-Man, Adam, and the wreckage.
Spider-Man (internal):
He's reading my moves. Getting faster. That semblance—he's storing energy. I can't let him land a full-power hit.
Spider-sense flared—left!
Spider-Man dove as a red energy slash carved through a marble pillar behind him.
Spider-Man: "Okay, that's new and terrifying!"
He fired rapid webshots—ceiling, walls, floor—creating a chaotic web barrier.
Adam carved through it, but it bought seconds.
Seconds Spider-Man used to web-zip behind him and deliver a kick to Adam's spine—
—Adam spun, blade flashing. Spider-Man jerked back, the edge grazing his suit.
Spider-Man (panting): "You're good. I'll give you that."
Adam (calm, dangerous): "And you're in over your head."
Another energy slash—Spider-Man barely dodged, the attack obliterating a doorway.
His spider-sense was screaming constantly now. Every movement, every breath calculated by instinct alone.
Spider-Man (internal):
Can't win through strength. Can't match his speed. But I can outlast him. Tire him out. Make him waste that stored energy.
Spider-Man shifted tactics—evasion only. Dodging, flipping, staying just out of range.
Adam's attacks grew more aggressive. More frustrated.
Adam: "Stop running!"
Spider-Man: "I prefer the term 'tactical repositioning!'"
Another massive energy slash—Spider-Man webbed two pillars and slingshot himself through the attack, firing webbing directly at Adam's mask.
It stuck.
Adam ripped it off with a snarl—and in that split-second of distraction, Spider-Man delivered a full-force kick to his chest, sending him crashing through a table.
Adam rose slowly, breathing harder now.
Adam (seething): "This isn't over."
A smoke canister hit the ground. When it cleared, Adam was gone.
[Aftermath]
Spider-Man staggered, chest heaving. His spider-sense finally calmed.
He found Weiss webbed safely in a corner, conscious but shaken.
Spider-Man (gently): "You okay?"
Weiss (defiant despite everything): "I'm fine. Who—"
Spider-Man: "Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Pleased to meet you, ice queen."
Sirens wailed outside. Flashing lights.
Spider-Man carefully cut Weiss free and carried her toward the entrance as police rushed in, arresting the remaining White Fang operatives.
He set Weiss down gently as officers approached.
Spider-Man: "She's safe. Little shaken, but—"
His spider-sense exploded.
Spider-Man: "EVERYONE OUT! NOW!"
BOOM.
The building shuddered. Explosions ripped through support columns—White Fang failsafes.
The structure began to collapse.
Officers scattered. Criminals dove for cover.
And Spider-Man looked up at tons of marble, steel, and glass beginning to fall.
Spider-Man (internal):
Oh, come on!
He fired weblines—dozens of them—at every structural point he could see. Walls. Pillars. The ceiling itself.
Then he pulled.
Spider-Man (straining): "RRRAAAAAGH!"
Every muscle in his body screamed. The webbing stretched, fibers straining under impossible weight.
But it held.
The building groaned but didn't collapse.
Spider-Man (through gritted teeth): "MOVE! GET OUT!"
Officers dragged criminals. Weiss stumbled toward safety, looking back in shock.
One by one, they evacuated.
Finally—finally—the last person cleared the threshold.
Spider-Man released the webbing and launched himself out a window as the building collapsed behind him in a thunderous roar of dust and debris.
[Spider-Man's Apartment – Late Night]
Andrew stumbled through the window, barely managing to web it shut behind him.
The suit was torn. Burned. Covered in dust and blood (his own).
He peeled off the mask, collapsing face-first onto his bed.
Andrew (exhausted, muffled into pillow): "Note to self… Adam Taurus is way above my pay grade."
His body ached everywhere. Bruises forming. Muscles screaming.
But everyone got out alive.
Andrew (quietly): "Worth it."
He passed out before he could even pull the covers over himself.
[News Broadcast – Next Morning]
"—incredible footage from last night's White Fang attack on the Vale Charity Gala. The mysterious vigilante known as 'Spider-Man' not only fought off the terrorists and rescued heiress Weiss Schnee, but single-handedly prevented a catastrophic building collapse, saving dozens of lives including Vale police officers and White Fang operatives awaiting arrest."
The anchor paused, visibly moved.
"Whatever your opinion on masked vigilantes… this city owes him a debt."