Another chaotic, yet exhilarating, day in New York. The city buzzed around us, as Spider-Man and I swung through the skyline, practicing new moves and enjoying a moment of camaraderie. My body was used to the swift momentum of the swings, but my focus was sharp, eyes scanning the streets below, always aware of the action around me. My tendrils—my constant companions—snapped at the air, each one more agile than the last, as I darted from building to building. Spider-Man's quips and banter kept me on my toes, but the thrill of training was its own reward.

Then, in a blur of motion, Amadeus flew past us, streaking across the skyline like a meteor. His speed caught me off guard, and I barely managed to dodge as he rocketed inches above me, the force of his air displacement causing my hair to whip wildly. Instinct kicked in—I snapped my tendrils, cutting through the air in an attempt to latch onto his trajectory, but he was already gone, soaring past us with effortless grace.

Before I could react further, I saw him land with a heavy thud on the rooftop ahead. His presence was unmistakable—confident, yet reckless. The Iron Spider.

"He's going too fast, we need to stop him," I muttered to Spider-Man, my voice a low hiss of urgency. Without waiting for a reply, I propelled myself from the building with a fierce leap, landing gracefully a few yards away from where Amadeus had touched down. The wind from his landing still swirled around me, and the streets far below felt miles away.

Spider-Man followed suit, his movements smooth and fluid, as always. We exchanged a brief glance—both of us understanding that this wasn't just another training session. Something was off.

"We need to get ahead of him," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with concern.

We moved swiftly, sticking to the shadows and rooftops, until we found him. Iron Spider was perched by an old cellar, an eerie abandoned structure, the kind of place you'd find in the forgotten corners of New York. The air seemed still, but a sense of foreboding hung over the scene. The ground beneath our feet creaked with age, and the buildings surrounding the cellar towered like silent sentinels.

"What's he doing here?" Spider-Man whispered, voice barely above a murmur, though we both knew that something big was happening. Something dangerous.

I could feel the tension building in the air, my senses heightened as I observed Amadeus closely. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a random encounter.

And we were going to find out what it was.

"Amadeus," I called out as we approached the old, weathered cellar. He was standing there, near a strange, glowing casing that illuminated the otherwise dark alleyway. The light cast an eerie glow across his figure, and his posture seemed tense, as though he were expecting something—or someone.

When he turned to face us, his expression was a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "Oh, it's you two," he breathed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Why are you here?"

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to back down. "We're about to ask you the same question," I said, my voice cool but firm. Spider-Man stayed a step behind, watching Amadeus closely, his body coiled, ready for anything.

Amadeus rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh, clearly frustrated. "Well, there was some strange interference with my tech, and I just couldn't stand it, so I decided to stand here and figure it out," he explained, gesturing vaguely toward a bulky, old TV box in front of him.

I frowned at the box, my instincts screaming that something was wrong. The faint hum of the tech sent a cold shiver through me. "That's not good," I muttered under my breath.

Danger.

Venom's voice rang out in my mind, sharp and urgent. He surged to the surface, poking his head out from under my skin, his eyes glowing an ominous shade of green as he sniffed the air. "Definitely danger," he growled. "Back away."

A sudden surge of tension hit me as Venom pushed harder, trying to take control of my body. But I fought back, holding my ground, my tendrils lashing out in protest. "Not now," I snapped, blocking Venom's influence with sheer willpower. This wasn't the time for him to take over—not when I needed to think.

Amadeus watched the interaction, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What's going on? You guys—"

But I wasn't listening to him anymore. I was focused on the hum of the tech and the strange, ominous energy coming from the TV box. Something was off, and I had a bad feeling that this was only the beginning.

A face flickered to life on the screen of the old TV box, sending a jolt of shock through my body. Spider-Man gripped my arm tightly as the eyes on the face—cold, calculating—slowly turned toward us. I heard him mutter under his breath, "What the...?"

The face was a strange, eerie mix of human and mechanical, its features distorted and unnatural. And then, a voice broke through, thick with a heavy German accent, deep and menacing.

"Ahh," it sighed, the voice sharp and cold. "Where am I? Tell me, boy."

The face turned its attention toward Amadeus, who stood frozen in place. "You're in an old cellar in New York," he replied coolly, his usual cocky confidence replaced with a hint of unease.

I glanced at Spider-Man, who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. His eyes were wide, his voice barely above a whisper. "Way to go, Cho," he muttered, sounding more than a little frustrated.

Amadeus didn't flinch. "I didn't expect this either," he snapped back, though his voice was tight with apprehension.

I narrowed my eyes at the flickering face, now fully alive on the screen, its expression unreadable. Whatever this was, it was no accident. It wasn't just interference—it was something else, something far more dangerous. And judging by the way Venom's voice hissed in my mind, I could tell it wasn't something we could ignore.

"Whatever this is," I said, my voice calm but laced with warning, "we need to deal with it now."