For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The warm, cozy atmosphere of the coffee shop evaporated, replaced by a sudden, sharp-edged tension. The silent television on the wall was no longer background noise; it was a summons, a blaring, non-negotiable demand on their time. Peter felt the familiar, bittersweet ache of responsibility. The perfect, normal moment was over. The world needed them.
He looked at Diana, and the silent conversation that passed between them was more efficient than any spoken words. There was no question of if they would act, only how they would separate to do so.
Peter was the first to break the spell, forcing a casual tone into his voice. "Hey, I just remembered," he said, already starting to gather his things, his movements a little too quick, a little too jerky. "I promised May I'd help her with her laptop. It's been acting up, and you know, the whole tech-support-son thing." The lie felt practiced, but thin.
Diana didn't miss a beat. Her expression shifted from warrior-like focus back to one of serene understanding, playing her part in their unspoken play. "Of course," she said, her voice smooth and even as she began to pack her own bag. "And I have a commitment with the historical society. A last-minute archival request. They can be very demanding."
They stood, the remnants of their stolen afternoon left on the table. The lies hung in the air between them, not as deceptions, but as necessary fictions, a shared language of excuses that protected a truth too vast for a coffee shop.
"Be safe getting home," he said, the words heavy with a meaning far beyond a simple walk back to the dorm. He was telling Spider-Man to be careful.
"You as well, Peter," she replied, her gaze intense and full of that same hidden depth. "The city can be… unpredictable." Be careful, whoever you are.
They walked to the door and, for a single, heart-stopping moment, paused. Out on the street, they would have to go in different directions. This was the moment of divergence. He gave her hand one last, quick squeeze, a final transfer of silent encouragement, and then let go. The absence of her touch was a sudden, sharp cold.
He turned left, toward the nearest alley. She turned right, toward the open sky. And their separate worlds reclaimed them.
Peter's transformation was a frantic, desperate symphony of motion. He found a narrow, graffiti-scarred alleyway between a laundromat and a pawn shop. The air was thick with the stench of wet garbage and despair. This was his world. In seconds, he tore off his civilian clothes, his body moving with an economy of motion born from years of practice. The familiar, high-tech fabric of the Spider-Man suit slid over his skin, a second home. He pulled the mask over his face, and the world snapped into a different resolution. The chaotic noise of the city became a filtered, directional soundscape. The lenses of his mask provided him with a heads-up display, already cross-referencing news reports with police scanners, plotting the fastest route. He was no longer the student in love; he was a weapon, a protector, and the city was his mission. With a running leap, he scaled the brick wall, fired a web-line, and swung out into the concrete canyons, a streak of red and blue against the grey afternoon.
Diana's change was one of quiet, profound power. She walked several blocks until she found a small, historic church, its doors open for afternoon prayer. She slipped inside, the air cool and silent, smelling of old stone and beeswax. In a secluded side chapel, bathed in the jewel-toned light of a stained-glass window, she found her moment of peace. She closed her eyes, not in prayer, but in focus. She reached inward, to the divine, immortal fire that was her birthright. A low, silent hum of energy enveloped her. She began to turn, a single, elegant spin. The fabric of her sweater and jeans did not fall away; it dissolved, a mortal shell melting to reveal the truth beneath. The iconic armor of Themyscira—the golden eagle on her breastplate, the indestructible vambraces, the star-spangled fabric—settled into place around her. When she stopped turning, she was no longer Diana Prince. She was Wonder Woman. She walked out of the chapel, a silent prayer on her lips for the city she had sworn to protect, and exited through a side door onto a secluded courtyard. With a powerful bend of her knees, she launched herself into the sky, a living embodiment of hope and justice, a direct, unwavering line towards the chaos.
They arrived at the scene in Lower Manhattan within seconds of each other. The situation was worse than the news had shown. The entire block was dark, the power out. Emergency vehicles created a barricade, their flashing lights painting the street in frantic strokes of red and blue. A low, ominous hum, a sound that felt like it was vibrating in the fillings of your teeth, emanated from the subway entrance. Blue-white sparks arced intermittently from the stairwell, and panicked civilians were still being helped away by overwhelmed police officers.
Spider-Man landed silently on a lamppost, his lenses already scanning, analyzing, processing. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Definitely not a squirrel chewing on the power lines."
Then he saw her. She descended from the sky like a Valkyrie, landing on the street with a soft thud that nonetheless seemed to carry an impossible weight and authority. Wonder Woman. She radiated a calm, powerful presence that immediately seemed to soothe the frantic energy of the scene.
He swung down, landing in a low crouch a few feet away from her. "Well, well," he quipped, his voice modulator making the sound slightly tinny. "Look what the stork brought. We've got to stop meeting like this. People will talk."
Wonder Woman turned, her expression serious, but he thought he saw a flicker of something else in her eyes—recognition, and maybe even relief. "Spider-Man," she acknowledged, her voice a clear, commanding presence amidst the chaos. "Your arrival is timely. The energy signature is unstable."
"Unstable is my middle name," he said, standing up. "What have we got? Some new tech-villain with a branding problem? 'The Subway Shocker'? 'The Underground Underwriter'?"
"I do not believe this is a person," she said, her gaze fixed on the subway entrance, where the humming seemed to be intensifying. "This feels... elemental. Uncontrolled."
He nodded, his own analysis agreeing with hers. The energy readings his suit was picking up were off the charts, chaotic and raw. "So, we're not here to punch a guy in a weird suit."
"Our purpose," she stated, "is to contain the damage and ascertain the source of the anomaly."
"Right. The source," he said, looking down into the dark, sparking stairwell. "And I've got a spider-sense tingling suspicion that the source is down there, in the land of rats and questionable puddles."
They looked at each other. This was it. Their second encounter, but their first real, intentional team-up. A silent agreement passed between them. He had the agility and the senses for recon. She had the raw, overwhelming power for containment. They were two sides of the same heroic coin.
"Ladies first?" he suggested, gesturing to the stairwell with a theatrical bow.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "We shall go together."
And with that, Wonder Woman and Spider-Man turned and began their descent into the humming, sparking darkness, a new, powerful alliance ready to face the unknown threat that pulsed in the heart of the city.
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