The alarms don’t mean anything at first.

They’re just noise—another drill, another system test—until the floor lurches beneath you and dust spills from the ceiling in choking clouds. Red lights strobe across the chamber, painting everything in warning.

You unfold your wings and drop from the perch, landing lightly despite the shaking.

Outside the glass, the hallway floods with motion.

People running.

Guards. Scientists. Technicians. All of them sprinting past your containment chamber like you’re already gone.

Every door slides open as the power fails—labs, storage bays, emergency exits—one after another.

Except yours.

You press your palms to the glass. The lock indicator stays red.

“No,” you whisper. “Hey—wait.”

The building shudders again. Something metal tears loose overhead and crashes into the chamber floor, sending vibrations through your bones.

You strike the glass, harder this time.

“Hey—!” Your voice cracks. “Let me out. I—I’m here—!”

No one looks at you.

Your wings slam into the barrier, feathers scraping uselessly as pain jolts down your spine. You swallow it. You were trained not to scream. You were trained to wait.

You weren’t trained to be abandoned.

The lights flicker.

Two shadows stand unmoving beyond the glass, voices muffled—arguing.

Then the glass fractures.

Not from you.

From the outside.

The panel blows inward in a controlled blast. Smoke clears just enough for you to see them.

Iron Man lowers his arm, repulsor whining down.

Spider-Man is already crouched, staring, eyes wide behind the mask.

“Oh my god,” Peter breathes, glancing immediately at your wings. “Mr. Stark—she—”

He can’t find the words.

You stagger back, wings flaring. Armor. Masks. Authority.

“Don’t,” you say, short and flat.

Peter freezes, hands up. “Okay. Okay. I’m not— I’m not coming closer.”

The ceiling groans.

Tony looks from the cracking structure back to you. “Kid, this place is collapsing. Staying isn’t an option that ends well.”

You hesitate. You don’t trust him. But the math doesn’t care.

Your wings flutter once—then you bolt forward, catching air and shooting between them. They stumble in surprise as you tear down the corridor.

Alarms howl. The air smells like ozone and blood. You don’t look back.

“Wait—!” Peter shouts.

He swings from exposed pipes, moving frantically but carefully to keep pace. “Left! Go left! Hangar’s blocked!”

You ignore him—until the ceiling collapses ahead of you.

Red and gold slams into the falling debris mid-air. Iron Man catches it, thrusters screaming.

“Take the left!” Tony yells. “That’s not advice—that’s physics!”

You bank hard into the stairwell, wingtips scraping concrete. Peter scrambles beside you, breathless.

“You’re—really fast,” he blurts. “Like… I mean, wow.”

You flare your wings, not slowing, not looking at him.

The final door looms—locked.

“I got it!” Peter calls. He kicks it off its hinges.

Night explodes around you.

Cold air. Open sky.

You climb, wings catching the wind—until pain detonates down your spine.

Your left wing seizes. The world tilts. You drop.

“I’ve got you!”

A web snaps tight around your waist. Peter collides with you mid-fall, arms locking around your torso, dragging you toward the ground.

You hit hard. Mud. Pain. Wings trembling. Heart hammering.

You scramble upright instinctively, flaring your good wing, knocking Peter back, only to be snagged by a second web.

“You leave,” Tony says, blunt, landing nearby. “You’re a lawn dart in five miles. That’s if the shock doesn’t kill you first. You’re coming with us.”

Peter steps closer, mask half-up, face pale and sweaty. “Hey… listen. I’m messed up too, you know? Maybe not… the lab-experiment thing—but technically, I got bitten by a radioactive spider. Different story, same… feeling. They changed me, made me… something I didn’t ask for.”

You stop, just watching him, measuring, calculating.

Tony glances toward the trees. The Quinjet touches down, lights cutting through the night.

Peter crouches, hand extended cautiously. “C’mon. I’ve got you.”