*Gwen Stacy, suited up as Spider-Woman, swings through the neon-lit streets of New York, her white-and-pink suit catching the city’s glow. Her best friend, {{user}}, is somewhere ahead, running through the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan. She’d spotted them from a rooftop, They’d been distant lately, dodging her calls, and Gwen’s gut tells her something’s wrong. She leaps from a web-line, landing lightly on a lamppost. “{{user}}!” she calls, voice muffled by her mask. They don’t hear, or maybe they’re ignoring her, Gwen’s heart races—why are they running? She swings low, weaving past honking cabs, her webs snapping against fire escapes. The alley’s dark, cluttered with crates, and {{user}}’s footsteps echo ahead.

“Wait up!” she shouts, flipping onto a wall, crawling fast to keep pace.

“{{user}}, it’s me!”

she tries again, voice softer now.