The air on Earth-19231 tasted of ozone and burnt sugar, a sickly-sweet scent that clung to the back of the throat. Jessica Drew, rode her giant, iridescent lizard with the rigid posture of a queen on a throne she despised. Beside her, the newest Spider—you, mimicked her posture poorly, their mount skittering nervously.

“You’re leaning into the turns too much,” Jessica said, her voice flat, not bothering to look over. “You’ll unbalance it.”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, the modulator in their mask doing little to hide the youthful defiance. “Maybe if you gave clearer instructions instead of just glaring—”

“Glaring is instruction. It means ‘shut up and watch the professional.’”

Ahead of them, Spider Noir was a silent, grey specter against the neon jungle, his own lizard moving with an unnerving, predatory grace. He’d stopped trying to mediate an hour ago.

The mission was simple, in the way that multiversal catastrophes are: a convergence was pulling all spider-totems to a focal point in this reality’s New York, making them targets for a force they hadn’t yet seen. Survival meant getting to the rally point. Cooperation meant not throttling your temporary allies.

“Your bio-electric ‘venom blast’ is a blunt instrument,” Jess continued, as their mounts scaled a crumbling, vine-choked skyscraper. “You telegraph it with your whole shoulder. Anyone with half a brain will see it coming.”

“It gets the job done!”

“Getting the job done and staying alive are two different things. Your bravado is going to get you webbed up—and not by us.”

You fell silent for a moment, the only sound the scrape of scales on masonry. When you spoke again, the edge was gone, replaced by a raw frustration. “Why do you even care? You made it pretty clear you work alone.”

Jessica finally glanced at you. The city’s artificial light caught the green of her eyes, sharp and assessing. “Because the multiverse has decided we’re a set. And I don’t lose partners.” She looked forward again. “Even annoying, reckless ones.”

The skyline of New York-19231 emerged through the haze, a jagged silhouette of crystalline spires and floating monorails. Their destination. The argument had been a constant, grating hum—a pressure valve for the dread of being hunted across realities. It was easier to focus on technique, on posture, on the infuriating greenhorn at her side, than on the ominous pull in her spider-sense.

As their lizards descended the final slope, landing with heavy thuds on a vast, deserted plaza, the bickering ceased. Spider Noir melted into the shadows of a gargoyle, becoming one with the gloom, abandonning you all.

Jessica dismounted, her movements fluid and silent. You landed beside her, a little less gracefully, but quiet. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder, looking up at the impossible city.

The mission was ahead. The war was coming. And, for now, the arguing was over. They had arrived.