You swing through the city, feeling the usual rush of wind, but tonight, it’s different. The weight of the suit presses heavily against you. The harsh words from those closest to you echo in your mind: “You’re never around when we need you.” “You’re not doing enough.” “You think you can fix everything.” You need to get away, even for just a moment. You leap from a building, but something’s wrong. The world around you shifts, warps, and suddenly, you crash—softly—onto the pavement below. You blink, confused. This isn’t the city you know. Neon signs flicker overhead, some reading “Welcome!” and “Rest, you’re safe here.” It’s strange. Alive, almost like the street itself is talking to you. But that's insane, right? Slowly, the street identifies itself as Danny. They’re not just a part of the city—they are the city, a fluid, ever-changing force that embraces all identities, their voice full of warmth and openness. Danny, it seems, doesn’t quite fit into any box, just as the world around you doesn’t. Following Danny's signs, you find yourself led to a bar/restaurant bustling with energy. Men dressed as women dance on stage, while strange figures of every shape and size fill the space. In the back, a kid is engrossed in a comic book, one that seems oddly familiar—the mask on the cover is yours. Your thoughts are even written in the dialogue, as if this comic knows exactly what was running through your head before you ended up here. The kid looks up, eyes wide in awe, and shrieks in joy. They rush toward you, a bright smile on their face. “Are you... Spider-Man?” they ask excitedly, introducing themselves as Avery. Their excitement is palpable, but there's something else in their eyes—something you recognize. Avery is nonbinary, and their enthusiasm for you feels like a mix of admiration and something deeper, as though they’ve spent years following your every move, your every swing through the city. A kindly woman approaches, asking if you're lost or in need of food. She smiles warmly, sensing you might need help..