Chapter 4 - THE CHOICE IN THE RAINTorrential rain poured down on Brooklyn Harbor, whipping the sea into a frenzy. Jet-black, angry waves crashed repeatedly against the concrete foundations of Warehouse 9.
Inside, the dim light of hanging incandescent bulbs swayed with the wind, casting bizarre, dancing shadows across stacked cargo containers.
Peter landed on a rusted steel beam near the ceiling. His suit, soaked to the skin, clung tightly to the freshly opened wound on his side. Agony flared with every heartbeat, but his mind was locked onto a single target.
Suspended over the center of the warehouse, Mary Jane was tied to a wooden chair resting on the roof of an open cargo container. The steel cable holding the container was connected to a massive crane pointing directly out toward the thrashing, black ocean.
Surrounding the crane were a dozen of Hammerhead’s goons, armed with high-tech Oscorp assault rifles.
"Time's up, Little Spider!" a bearded thug, the leader of the group, yelled into the empty space. "I know you're here! Step out with your hands up, or I press the button and send your girl for a deep-sea dive!"
MJ raised her head. Though pale with cold and terror, she used every ounce of her strength to scream: "Peter! Don't! It's a trap—"
A guard immediately taped her mouth shut.
"Enough."
Spider-Man dropped from the ceiling, firing two web lines to yank the two closest guards into each other. He landed in the center of the room, dropping into a low, predatory stance.
"Let her go," Spider-Man said, his voice laced with a lethal edge the criminals had never heard before.
"Kill him!" the leader barked.
Gunfire erupted. Spider-Man danced through the hail of bullets, his Spider-Sense firing on all cylinders in the tight space. He closed the distance, breaking weapons with bone-shattering strikes. But the wound in his side stole his breath during a dodge. A thug seized the opportunity, slamming his rifle butt into Peter’s back and sending him crashing to the concrete.
Just as three rifles aimed directly at his head, a black shadow blurred past like lightning.
Slash! Slash!
Razor-sharp metal claws tore through the guards' sleeves, forcing them to drop their weapons in agony. Felicia appeared with a perfect flip, standing protectively in front of Peter.
"Told you that you can't do anything without me, Little Spider," Felicia winked, though her voice still carried a trace of hurt from their argument.
"Felicia? I told you—"
"Shut up and fight!"
The coordination between Spider-Man and Black Cat was a masterclass in lethal choreography. They moved as one. Peter webbed enemies to set them up, and Felicia delivered devastating follow-up kicks. Within minutes, over a dozen thugs lay groaning on the floor.
But the bearded leader didn't panic. He had retreated to the control room, clutching a remote detonator.
"Impressive," he sneered. "But the show ends now."
He slammed his thumb onto the red button.
Clang!
The crane winched. The container holding MJ slid outward, dangling over the churning sea outside. The cable began to unravel at a terrifying speed, lowering her toward the deadly waves.
At the same moment, the leader tossed a thermite grenade into a stack of volatile chemical drums right next to the metal platform where Felicia stood.
"Go to hell, both of you!" He jumped onto a waiting speedboat and sped away.
BOOM!
A massive explosion shook Warehouse 9. Violent blue flames erupted from the chemicals. The shockwave threw Felicia against a steel wall. A multi-ton support beam on the ceiling snapped in half, crashing down and pinning both of her legs. Worse, electrical arcs from a shattered fuse box began leaking directly into the chemical puddle spreading toward her.
"Peter! Help me! I'm burning...!" Felicia screamed, her proud face contorted in absolute terror. She thrashed against the beam, but the metal was too heavy, and the electric current was already paralyzing her body.
In the opposite direction, hanging over the sea, the cable holding MJ's container had been partially severed by the blast. The steel fibers were snapping one by one under the weight. In five seconds, the container and MJ would plunge into the dark abyss.
On one side was Felicia—trapped under a burning, electrified beam.
On the other side was MJ—hanging on the precipice of a watery grave.
Peter stood between two hells. The distance between them was too great, and his Spider-Sense screamed that he could only save one. The other would die.
"Peter!" Felicia's scream cracked through the roar of the fire and thunder.
Peter looked at Felicia. Then he looked out into the storm at MJ.
Everything slowed down. In a fraction of a millisecond, MJ’s face, his three-year promise, and his betrayal from the night before flashed before his eyes. He knew what he had to do. The deepest instinct of Peter Parker had never lied to him.
"I'm sorry, Felicia!" Peter screamed through his tears.
He turned his back on her, running straight toward the open storm, and leapt into the empty air.
Felicia's eyes froze the moment the red-and-blue back of Spider-Man turned away. The physical agony of the electricity seemed to vanish, replaced by a cold, hollow void in her chest. He had chosen her. Without a second thought, he had abandoned her to the fire.
Snap!
The cable holding MJ snapped. The container fell.
"MJ!"
Spider-Man shot his two strongest web lines, anchoring onto the container's metal frame just before it hit the water. The momentum nearly dislocated his shoulders, but Peter gritted his teeth, channeling every ounce of his superhuman strength to haul the container back up.
He landed on the roof, tearing the chains off MJ with his bare hands.
"MJ! Are you okay?! Look at me!" Peter frantically pulled off his soaked mask, pulling her into his arms. His face was a mess of tears and rain.
MJ shook violently, clinging to his neck, sobbing. "Peter... I thought... I thought I was dead..."
"You're safe, I've got you," Peter whispered, but then a chilling realization struck him. Felicia.
Peter whipped his head back toward the ruined warehouse.
A corner of the building had completely collapsed under the strange blue flames. But where Felicia had been trapped, the steel beam had been shoved aside. The chemicals still burned, but no one was there.
Only a trail of blood stretched to the water's edge, ending near a black leather cat mask, half-burned, lying alone in the cold rain.
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Felicia had freed herself, or she had been swept away by the current. But Peter knew one thing for certain: she had survived on the raw instinct of a wounded animal, and she had carried away a scar that would never heal.
MJ followed Peter's gaze, staring at the burned mask on the ground. She remained silent, her hand tightening around his shoulder, but the distance between them, somehow, felt wider than the ocean.
