The rain had finally let up over Queens, leaving the night air feeling like wet wool and exhaust fumes.
Jack was sitting right on the edge of a six-story brick ledge near Queensboro Plaza, his legs dangling over the street below. He had a half-eaten pork bun in one hand, a lukewarm grape soda between his knees, and his heavy coat pulled tight around his freshly bandaged chest.
THWIP.
A red-and-blue shadow dropped out of the sky, landing in a perfect three-point crouch on the AC unit ten feet behind him.
"Alright, buddy, freeze!" Spider-Man called out, hopping off the metal box and dusting off his knees. "I’ve been tracking Fisk’s encrypted comms all night, and somehow your name keeps popping up alongside words like 'bio-hazard', 'psychotic', and 'seriously, somebody call SHIELD'. So, who are you, and why do you smell like rubbing alcohol and dim sum?"
Jack didn't even turn around. He just took another bite of his pork bun, chewing slowly before letting out a raspy, bubbling hehehe.
"Spidey!" Jack rasped, tossing the paper wrapper over his shoulder. "My favorite neighborhood wall-crawler! Man, I gotta say, that spandex looks way tighter in person. Do you get wedgies when you swing, or is that like a custom fit thing?"
Spider-Man blinked behind his white eye-lenses, his head tilting sideways. "Wait. You're... you're not a super-villain? You look like a guy who lost a fight with a lawnmower and then decided to wear a coat about it."
Jack swung his legs back over the ledge and stood up—a little unsteady, his knees popping like dry twigs, but his wide, bloodshot eyes were glowing with pure [10.8% SYNCHRONIZATION] mania.
"Name's Jack, web-boy!" Jack grinned, his teeth stained red from his split lip. "And I'm not a villain. I'm a public servant! I just spent three days ruining Wilson Fisk’s credit score and turning his favorite assassin into a pile of bricks!"
"Yeah, about that," Spidey said, crossing his arms and stepping closer. "Destroying a meatpacking plant isn't 'public service', man. That’s property damage. And federal terrorism. Also, you're bleeding on my rooftop."
"Details, details!" Jack cackled, waving his hand dismissively. "You heroes are all the same! Always worrying about 'laws' and 'property values'! You gotta live a little, Pete! You gotta live on the edge!"
Spider-Man went completely still. The white lenses on his mask narrowed into thin slits. "...How do you know my name?"
Jack took a step toward him, his smile stretching so wide it looked like his jaw was gonna unhinge. He leaned in real close, his raspy voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
"...dare..." Jack hummed softly. "...dare to ask, web-head... dare to guess how I know... HAHAHA!"
"Okay, nope. Absolutely not," Spidey groaned, rubbing his temples through his mask. "I don't know what kind of psychological weirdness you got going on, but the 'creepy whispering' thing is super annoying. Like, 0 out of 10 stars on Yelp."
"Dare..." Jack purred again, taking another creeping step forward, his eyes unblinking. "...dare to tell me to stop... dare to—"
THWIP-THWIP!
A thick wad of white latex webbing slammed straight onto Jack’s lower face, sealing his lips shut with a heavy SPLOTCH.
"There!" Spider-Man sighed with massive relief, throwing his hands up in the air. "Ah, sweet, beautiful silence! Man, I should’ve done that two minutes ago. You talk way too much, dude. Seriously, it's like listening to a rusty chainsaw."
Jack stood there with six inches of sticky webbing glued across his mouth.
He didn't panic. He didn't try to pull it off.
Instead, he looked right at Spider-Man, his bloodshot eyes crinkling at the corners... and started laughing through the web.
MFF-MFF-MFFF-HAHAHA!
The web inflated and deflated like a white balloon with every hysterical snort, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as he pointed a gloved finger right at Spidey's chest.
Spider-Man stared at him, totally horrified. "Oh, man... you're actually completely insane, aren't you? Like, full-on, Grade-A, organic crazy."
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