For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The moment Peter was out of sight, he ducked into a grimy, garbage-strewn alley. The stench of stale grease and damp cardboard was overwhelming, but it was a familiar perfume. This was his office, his changing room. In one fluid, practiced motion, he tore open his backpack. The anxiety of the "family errand" lie was already being consumed by a cold, sharp-edged focus.
He stripped off his civilian clothes in seconds, revealing the thin, high-tech suit underneath. The material clung to his skin, a second home. He pulled the mask over his face, and the world snapped into a different kind of focus. The lenses adjusted, filtering the harsh light and providing him with tactical readouts. The frantic, overlapping sounds of the city became a clear, directional map of the chaos ahead.
He wasn't Peter Parker, the clumsy, anxious student, anymore. He was Spider-Man. The anxiety didn't vanish; it just changed shape, twisting from social dread into the sharp, humming wire of responsibility. He took a running leap at the brick wall, his fingers and toes finding purchase, and scrambled to the rooftop. From there, the city sprawled out before him, a concrete canyon of smoke and sirens. He fired a web line at the nearest skyscraper, the thwip a familiar, comforting sound, and swung out into the open air. The city was his jungle, and he was moving toward the fire.
Diana didn't need an alley. As soon as she was clear of the main campus, she found a secluded rooftop conservatory, a forgotten glass-and-steel dome atop one of the older arts buildings. The air inside was warm and humid, thick with the scent of earth and exotic flowers. For her, the transformation wasn't a change of clothes; it was an act of becoming.
She stood in the center of the dome, closed her eyes, and reached inward, touching the divine spark that was her birthright. A low hum of energy, imperceptible to mortal ears, filled the space. She began to turn, a single, graceful spin that became a blur of patriotic color. The mundane fabric of her t-shirt and leggings dissolved into the ether, replaced by the familiar, comforting weight of her armor. The golden tiara settled on her brow, the Lasso of Hestia coiled at her hip, and the indestructible vambraces clasped around her wrists.
When she stopped, she was no longer Diana Prince, the quiet history student. She was Diana of Themyscira. Wonder Woman. She pushed open the glass doors of the conservatory and stepped out onto the ledge. She didn't need web lines. She crouched, bent her powerful legs, and launched herself into the sky, a living missile of red and blue aimed at the heart of the crisis.
The scene on the Brooklyn Bridge was worse than the news reports had described. A massive oil tanker had jackknifed, crushing a half-dozen cars and starting a raging fire that belched thick, black smoke into the sky. But that wasn't the most immediate problem. A city bus, its front end crumpled, was teetering precariously over the edge of the bridge, held in place only by a single, groaning guardrail. The screams from inside were faint but clear.
Spider-Man was a blur of motion, a red-and-blue hummingbird in a hurricane of chaos. He landed on the side of the bus, his feet sticking to the metal.
"Alright, folks, no need to panic!" he shouted, his voice artificially loud through his mask's modulator. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here! The express rescue service is now boarding!"
He worked fast, his mind a supercomputer of angles and trajectories. He fired thick strands of webbing, anchoring the bus's frame to the bridge's main suspension cable—a temporary, desperate fix. Then he punched through a window, pulling terrified civilians out one by one and webbing them to safety on the stable part of the bridge.
But the bus was groaning, the metal screaming in protest. His webs were strong, but they were stretching under the immense weight. He was losing.
"Just a little more..." he grunted, trying to secure another anchor point as the bus lurched sickeningly.
Suddenly, a streak of color shot past him, a sound like a small thunderclap echoing in its wake. A figure landed on the bridge with a force that sent a tremor through the steel. It was a woman. She was tall, regal, and radiated an aura of power that was so intense it was almost a physical pressure. She was dressed in armor of red, blue, and gold, and her eyes, fixed on the teetering bus, were filled with a fierce, unwavering determination.
Before Spider-Man could even process who or what she was, she moved. She didn't try to secure the bus. She walked to the edge, braced herself, and slid her hands under the vehicle's chassis.
And she lifted.
The sound of groaning metal was replaced by a low, powerful hum. The entire bus, all forty-thousand pounds of it, was raised into the air. Spider-Man stared, his advanced lenses wide in disbelief. She wasn't just strong; she was strength itself.
"Get the rest of the civilians clear," the woman commanded, her voice ringing with an authority that demanded obedience. "I have the vehicle."
Spider-Man shook himself out of his stupor. "Right! Civilians. Clearing. Got it."
He dove back into the bus, pulling out the last few panicked passengers, including the unconscious driver. As he worked, the woman held the bus aloft, her muscles taut but her stance unwavering, as if she were merely holding a log.
Once the bus was empty, she carried it, with impossible grace, and set it down in the middle of the bridge, far from the edge, with a gentle thud.
The immediate crisis was over. The two of them stood for a moment amidst the wreckage as firefighters began to douse the flames.
"That was... incredible," Spider-Man said, his usual quippy demeanor replaced by genuine awe. "I'm Spider-Man, by the way."
The woman turned to him, her expression serious but not unkind. "Your efforts were commendable, Spider-Man. You saved many lives here today."
"Right back atcha," he said. "Uh, do you have a name? 'Incredibly-Strong-Flying-Woman' is a bit of a mouthful."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "You may call me Wonder Woman."
"Wonder Woman," he repeated. "Suits you."
A police helicopter was approaching, its spotlight sweeping over them.
"I must go," she said. She looked at him one last time. "It was an honor to fight by your side."
And without another word, she leaped, soaring back into the sky with the same power and grace she had arrived with, disappearing into the smoky skyline.
Spider-Man watched her go, completely floored. He fired a web and swung away, his mind reeling. A woman who could lift a bus. A real-life superhero, right here in his city. As he raced back towards campus to become Peter Parker again, he couldn't help but grin under his mask. Today had been insane.
And he had no idea that the incredible warrior he had just fought alongside was the same quiet, enigmatic history student from room 4J.