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chapter nineteen
BURN BABY BURN
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DARKNESS. THAT'S ALL THAT Lena can see. For a moment, she thinks she's dead, the ceiling having crushed her body to oblivion. Then she realizes that the reason it's so dark is that her eyes are shut.

Slowly, she peels her eyelids open, cringing at the sensation of them sticking together. Her breath is shallow in her lungs. They burn. Her back aches, pain erupting down her spine and nestling in her tailbone. She's balancing on the balls of her feet. Her hands are positioned close to her head, just barely preventing a massive chunk of debris from collapsing onto her skull. Her arms already begin to tremble from the brute strength it takes, even with the aid of her powers.

Lena opens her mouth to call out to Peter and finds that she can't speak. Her chest burns too much, the position too uncomfortable to force words out. Her face quickly heats from the strain. Sweat prickles the back of her neck, her own body nearly suffocating her. It's a sharp contrast to the fear trapped inside of her, swirling ice-cold sensations in the pit of her stomach and flowing to the rest of her like osmosis until her entire frame is filled with pure terror.

She can't see anything except for the piles of concrete and metal rods surrounding her. Her heart thuds so intensely she can hear her blood rushing in her ears. It heats up her body even more, making her palms slick with sweat.

Lena inhales a rattling breath through her nose and finds her chest spasming. A sob threatens to break out, but she doesn't even have the oxygen to do that. Hot tears leak silently out of her eyes instead. A lump builds in her throat, further restricting her access to air.

It takes her a moment to realize she's having an anxiety attack. The tears continue to flow from her eyes even as she squeezes them shut, her chest burning so badly that not even they could put out the fires within them. Her arm muscles scream. She feels herself beginning to shake, though she tries to force herself to stay still so she doesn't lose her balance and crush herself.

Vulture really did it. Oh, God— he'd tried to kill them. Two teenagers, only trying to do the right thing and prevent these weapons from getting into the wrong hands. Lena's brain hurts from trying to wrap her head around that fact. The piece of ceiling suspended above her was supposed to end her life, and he wouldn't have thought twice about it afterward.

For a moment, she allows herself to acknowledge the fear. Then she decides that she has to do something.

"Lena?"

Peter's voice, although weak, brings her wave of relief so intense that it almost knocks her off of her feet. More tears spring to her eyes. This time, they're half-filled with alleviation at the fact that he's alive.

Lena opens her mouth to respond. Instead, the only sound that escapes is a full-on sob that echoes around her. She hopes it's loud enough for him to hear.

"Where are you?" Peter asks. His voice tremors with fear as he screams so loudly he must be ripping his throat raw, "HEY! SOMEBODY HELP US!"

The debris above her shifts, causing her to let out a pained cry when it adds more weight onto her back. Her head is forced downward so she's close to banging her forehead into her knees. Dust rises at the movement of the concrete, causing her to shut her eyes against it. Her nose twitches but she can't sneeze.

"Lena!" Peter cries, voice going at a mile a minute. It sounds shallow as if something is pressing onto his chest as well. "Hang in there. We're gonna get out, okay? We're — We're gonna get out."

The tears that spill down her cheeks only cause her eyes to sting. Her vision blurs, cutting her down to four out of five senses.

You cannot die like this, she tells herself. You've come this far to get defeated by a little ceiling?

Lena adjusts the placement of her hands against her force field so they're completely flat. Then, gritting her teeth to brace herself, she allows energy to jet from her hands. The concrete rises slowly — too slowly for her to ignore the way her arm muscles spasm from the weight or how her knees buckle as she sets her feet beneath her. For a few painful, bone-shattering moments, everything in her hurts. It's like she set every muscle and bone and artery and vein and organ on fire. Sweat accumulates on her forehead and the back of her neck. She lets out a deep, controlled breath and gives it one final shove, emitting a bigger blast of energy to do most of the work for her aching body.

The concrete sets her free.

As soon as she's unburdened, Lena falls to the ground again at the sudden leverage, slamming onto her knees. Pain shoots up from them but all she can think about is attempting to slow her breathing. Shallow, fearful gasps escape her lungs at a rate too fast for her brain to register. She feels like she may never recover. Everything seems to weigh a hundred pounds; her limbs feel like they've been filled with lead.

"Peter?" she asks in a choked voice, nearly unintelligible from the lump buried in the back of her throat. "Peter!"

"I'm over here!" he replies, the sound of his voice coming from several yards in front of her. "Don't step on me, please."

Lena sluggishly rises to her feet. Despite the fact she can barely move, she picks her way across the rubble, careful to avoid the general area Peter seems to be trapped in. She reaches the end of the catastrophe before turning around and discovering the spot where he lay.

She stifles down gasp of horror. Peter is fully submerged under a pile of debris even larger than the one she'd been nearly smothered by, with only his head peeking out. His face is mere inches from a puddle of muddy water which his mask is now stuck in. His eyes are red-rimmed from crying, purple and green veins visible beneath his pale skin. It gives him an almost sickly complexion.

"Oh, shit, Peter," Lena mumbles, fighting off another round of sobs for no reason other than the fact that she's completely terrified. How can she get him out of this? She'd barely been able to get herself out.

Arms shaking from the strain she'd already put on them, she raises them to summon enough energy to get the first chunk of concrete off of him, but he suddenly stops her. "No! No! No! I'll do it. Please don't hurt yourself even more."

"Peter—" Lena starts to protest thickly.

"I got this," he says more confidently than he looks. It takes her a moment to realize that his arms are free as well, which sends another wave of relief crashing down on her. He positions his hands on the pieces above his head and sets his arms, mumbling encouragements to himself. "Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man. Come on, Spider-Man!"

Lena takes a step back, half in wonder and half because she doesn't want to get crushed, when the debris begins to move. Slowly, Peter starts to rise along with it. His limbs shake with the strain despite his strength. She moves to help him, but he fervently shakes his head at her and clenches his jaw as the blocks begin to separate in nearly perfect halves above him.

Lena throws a force field up in front of her to protect her from the dust that rises with his movements. It clouds everywhere, completely obscuring him from her sights for a few moments. She's only able to hear the rocks toppling over one another in an almost deafening crash.

She lowers her force field, barely daring to breathe as her ears strain to hear a sign of him. It takes a painstakingly long few seconds for her to recognize the sound of him coughing. Then, the figure of Peter Parker emerges from the plumes of dust, shielding his face from the acrid air with his forearm arm. His shitty Spider-Man suit is covered in dirt and water and whatnot, hair soaked with sweat, but she doesn't care. She's just so damn glad that he's alive.

Lena opens her arms and surges forward in just enough time to catch him when he begins to fall. Shakily, she hauls them both back to their feet. Peter's fingers grasp any part of her that he can touch. It's as if he's trying to hold onto something tangible, something real and alive, as if he's still trying to convince himself that they both made it out.

His damp hair tickles her neck as he tightens his grip on her in a fierce hug. Lena embraces him back just as tightly, burying her face in the dust-covered shoulder of his red hoodie. She feels his fingers curl around the back of her suit. They cling to each other like lifelines, having just, once again, defeated the impossible.

Lena closes her tear-filled eyes and relishes in the moment. She is so, so glad he's alive.

Peter breaks it first, pulling away but switching his grip to her biceps instead. Lena absentmindedly cups his cheek in her hand, running her thumb along a scratch underneath his eye. She quickly scans him for any more surface injuries. Other than the layers of grime covering him from being buried under the rubble and a few minor cuts, he seems miraculously okay.

He glances diagonally upward and she notices his jaw tick. Following his gaze, she catches sight of a mechanical bird shape perched on the edge of an abandoned billboard sign next to the warehouse. The wings are folded downward as if Mr. Toomes is still waiting for the plane to take off from Avengers Tower. They still have time.

Peter's fingers slowly uncurl from Lena's arms and drop back to his side. She's not sure what he can sense, but the alarm making his eyes widen is enough to have adrenaline rushing back into her system.

"Oh, shit— he's moving!" Peter exclaims, starting to take off sprinting toward the billboard as if he thinks he can catch Vulture in time. Lena begins to follow him with her energy coursing below her. She launches into the air, aiming directly for the slowly-spreading contraptions and their razor-sharp edges.

Vulture takes flight, his wings flattening out on either side of him to catch the breeze as he jumps off of the edge of the sign. Lena grits her teeth and exerts more energy to keep up with him. Behind her, Peter flings himself off of the sign before slinging a desperate web at the crease of the man's wings. Luckily, it sticks. Unluckily, it means Peter is being dragged helplessly through the air.

Lena keeps her steady gaze on Vulture, occasionally glancing downward at Peter to make sure he hasn't flattened himself like a pancake onto any buildings. This soon doesn't prove itself to be a problem once they start soaring over the East River that separates Brooklyn from Manhattan. However, it is a problem for Lena. Her heart rate doubles its usual beats per minute although she tries to keep her focus from trailing to the inky-black water below. She can see the reflections of lights from the nearby buildings and boats glinting off of the current. It seems so big, so endless, so expansive that she almost feels herself freezing up.

Lena trails a bit behind Vulture so he doesn't notice her, directing her energy so she moves side to side in case he looks behind him. He must be feeling some sort of resistance because of Peter's weight. What if this is another trap?

They sail over the Manhattan Bridge. Then, the winged man abruptly changes course and brings Peter higher, higher, and higher still, almost to the point where Lena can no longer see him as he nearly disappears into the clouds. She rotates her wrists so she's zooming upward instead of horizontally. The wind dries her eyes, giving her the need to squint to see. The clouds feel like puffs of cold air against her suit.

Then they rise above the clouds along with the jet. Its reflective technology isn't as great as it should be, leaving the outline of a small piece of aircraft in the now-clear night sky. Vulture seeks the blind spots of the cameras, yanking Peter along with him to the underside of the plane.

Lena has a different plan. She takes herself to the top of the jet, landing with a soft thunk on the top of it as she releases a force field of energy to hold her to the sleek surface. Tiny blue LED lights illuminate her face in a pale glow. Her chest heaves from the exertion she's putting on her powers, along with the fact that they're at a higher altitude, which makes breathing more difficult. Her limbs still ache from lifting that debris— she figures that while the adrenaline is slightly subduing it now, her body will hurt like a bitch tomorrow.

A sudden scream from below snags her attention. She carefully crawls to the tail of the jet, mindful of the fumes coming out of it, and discovers Peter barely hanging onto the aircraft with only a single web. His limbs flail wildly like a fish out of water.

"Hang on!" she calls to him, letting a ball of energy form in the palm of her hand. Lena thrusts an arm out toward him. The ball cuts through her own bubble of protection and morphs into a force-field, expanding enough to fit Peter's entire body inside of it. She uses the same arm to guide him back to the bottom of the plane.

Lena straightens her legs until she's half-crouching, half-standing, only held to the surface because of her own powers. She inhales sharply through her mouth before jumping off of the edge and catching her fall with a jet of energy from her palms. Now with a view of the bottom, she's able to catch sight of the Vulture suit cocooned around what she presumes to be a hole in the steel. And Peter, still with the force field around him, is attempting to dislodge the wings from the plane by ramming his foot into them.

"Lena!" he yells, voice almost lost to the wind. "Can you get it off?"

"I can try!" she responds but is unsure if she heard him or not. Taking another breath, she switches the energy blasts from her hands to her feet, then screams as she flips backward in mid-air from the imbalance. Her arms swing in wild rotations in an attempt to get herself back on track. Legs are harder to control, for some reason, and she has difficulty locking them in place. It takes several moments for her to successfully free her arms of the burden and resume her place hovering below the jet.

Lena raises her arms and forms an outline of blue-tinted energy around Vulture's contraption. Clenching her jaw with the effort, she directs the force to the left of Peter so he doesn't get crushed. Sweat breaks out along her hairline once again. She's unbelievably tired, but her powers in combination with Peter's seemingly useless kicking manage to send the set of wings hurtling downward into oblivion.

At the loss of leverage, Peter almost goes flying off with it. Lena releases her grip on the wings and instead focuses on keeping him safe. She guides him closer to a handle, allowing his other hand to wrap around it securely so he's only half hanging off.

Something whizzes behind her, the gust of wind that comes along with it causing her to twist backward again in a mid-air backflip. She shakes her wig out of her face to discover the Vulture wings circling around the jet like a predator closing in on its prey. The nearly indistinct form of Peter crawling up the side of the aircraft catches her attention next. Her senses heighten even more, attempting to time the speed of the wings' lap. She has approximately two seconds to reach him or else she gets impaled.

The wings narrowly avoid her again, this time flying in front of her. Another lap. Lena realizes that waiting is stupid and instead lets herself drop a few feet before flying back upward to the top of the jet.

"Shit!" she cries as the wings rocket straight toward Peter, who's still trying to climb up the side of the plane. It's now clear to her that it's not just the wings this time, but Vulture himself who's doing the dirty work. His neon-green eyes leer at Peter as he zooms closer. "Peter!"

She thrusts her hands out and sends a blast of energy Vulture's way, knocking him off balance the same way he did to her. It's still a moment too late. The edge of the left wing scrapes against the side of the plane, causing some of the reflective beams to go black at their loss of power. And Peter had been stupid enough to grab onto him. As if realizing now that it had been a bad idea, he shoots a web that barely catches onto the bottom of the plane. The elasticity only makes it bend so far, and as soon as it goes taut, both he and Vulture go flying back in the opposite direction.

Lena screams in horror as Peter smacks into one of the plane's blades underneath its wing. However, instead of being chopped into a billion pieces, he covers them with webs and crouches behind the rim so he's unseen. Vulture futilely grasps onto the edge of the propeller beside Peter, but his wings get caught in the blades and a single push from Lena has him spiraling downward with the wind.

"I can't believe that worked!" Peter cries triumphantly.

Just as quickly, the propeller breaks under his weight. The entire thing begins to break off, causing Peter to fly through the now-open space its absence provides. Lena catches him with another force field. Her arms ache as she guides him back to the top until he's standing beside her.

"Thanks," he says breathlessly.

Lena's focus switches off as soon as Vulture lands back onto the jet, his wings slicing molten lines down the steel and causing the reflective lights to go haywire. She nearly gets thrown off from the immediate force of the wind. However, Peter thwips a web that wraps around her middle and tugs her back to him. She's extremely conscious of her force field after that.

The razor-sharp edge of Vulture's wing slices through Peter's web that's holding him to the jet. Even though he consistently fires out more, it's no use, because with every snip, their enemy is able to crawl closer and closer to them.

Lena sends a blast out toward him. The wings block the hit, keeping Mr. Toomes himself from being affected and simultaneously preventing him from being thrown off. She realizes with horror that he's learned from his previous mistakes— she won't be able to get rid of him so easily.

"No!" Lena cries as one final cut of a web causes Peter to rocket backward and out of her sight. Even though her first instinct is to glance back at him to see if he's managed to hang on somehow, she forces her gaze to stay forward. She cannot allow him to defeat both of them.

She throws another blast forward. The wings angle downward in response, causing him to slide back only a few inches at most. Vulture raises the unrecognizable weapon nestled in his arms. Lena's eyes go wide and she strengthens her force field just as he fires, making purple connect with blue in a blinding flash of bright light. She feels the energy ripple across her bubble and every nerve within her. But it holds this time, and even as she realizes that the jet is tipping downward toward the city below, she doesn't feel hopeless.

Lena realizes she's kept her arms crossed over her chest like she's Wonder Woman. Now, experimentally, she throws them outward, crashing her power and the one from the weapon into an unprepared Vulture. The blast sends him flipping backward, just enough of a distraction to allow her to focus on something else for a few precious moments.

"Lena!" Peter's voice cries from below. "Little help!"

She peers over the side of the jet to see him using a web to manually turn the plane sharply to the left. The city lights are becoming brighter the closer they fall, the now two broken propellers smoking in the back and leaving a trail of acrid air in their wake. If they don't make the plane move, it's going to crash right into several buildings and kill hundreds of people.

Lena throws out the largest force field she's ever had to make. It covers the plane from nose to tail, connecting until it's entirely encased in a slightly-sheer blue tint. And then she heaves her arms upward. They feel even heavier than they did when she was trying to push the concrete ceiling off of her. She sets her legs to give her more leverage, straining to make the broken aircraft stay in the sky for at least a little longer while Peter works on making it turn.

She shuts out their increasingly close proximity to Manhattan. She shuts out the burning scent of fire. Nothing else matters except for her and her abilities.

Though her body feels like it's close to giving out, her powers are somehow going strong, at least for now. They give more blasts to the bottom of the jet, lifting it slightly higher so it narrowly avoids the tops of the buildings. The Manhattan amusement park is lit up with neon lights, the rides getting closer with every passing second. Peter has managed to turn the plane enough to miss the skyscrapers, but one of the wings still slices through a giant, needle-like ride like it's butter. The structure heaves an immense groan before crashing to the ground.

Lena's concentration breaks at the sudden jerk of the plane. She slams to her knees on the steel surface, causing the jet to immediately tip downward at an even sharper angle than before.

They slam onto the beach. Lena is thrown several feet into the air, barely managing to encase herself in a bubble before she starts to fall again. She searches wildly for any sign of Peter as she hovers above the ground. After a moment, she sees him tumbling across the sand like a rag doll being thrown down the stairs. She unleashes out a force field toward him as well.

She chooses the much more controllable option and flies toward him using her hands instead of her feet. The scent of fire and gasoline is even sharper than before, stinging her sinuses and making her eyes water. Peter's crumpled form is barely visible through the thick smoke still pouring from the destroyed jet. A straight line of flames has erupted along the beach in time with its course until it had finally come to a stop near the water.

Lena lands on the sand and drops her force field, her legs feeling like jelly as she collapses onto her stomach. She has to crawl toward him on her elbows. Her hands tremble with fatigue and the shock of being thrown off of the plane, shaking even as her fingers grasp the front of Peter's sweatshirt.

"Peter," she croaks, though he makes no inclination that he heard her. He's still immobile. Panic seizes her chest, causing her to reach up and wrestle the mask from his head almost too aggressively. His face eventually pops out. Even though he groans in pain at the movement of his skull, it's so much better than him not being alive that she can't bring herself to care as she throws herself on top of him.

She lets herself lay there for a moment, arms wrapped around his shoulders and head pressed to the crook of his neck as he blinks hard in an attempt to regain his senses. Then, sluggishly, she heaves herself to her feet. It doesn't matter how much it hurts to even stand. They still don't know if they've won this fight.

Extending a hand, she helps Peter up as well. They grapple onto each other for support, a tangle of arms and hands and fingers. Lena's barely able to say another word to him before he suddenly throws her out of the way.

Lena's head nearly slams into the sand before she catches herself at the last moment. Vulture pummels into Peter like a freight train crushing a small car, sending the boy tumbling backward in a series of somersaults. Mr. Toomes himself hits the ground from the force of the hit. The wings shudder and give a mechanical whine as if they've been damaged from the inside. The sparks that jump off of the metal are the same blue as her energy... had she done that when she blasted him earlier?

Peter clumsily rises to his feet. Lena copies his actions, letting anger take over her body's nearly overwhelming need for rest as she gets her legs underneath her. Her head pounds with every step and her muscles seem to weigh three tons each. But, as every hero does, she gets ready for another fight.

She stumbles forward until she's side-by-side with Peter. Together, they watch as Vulture picks himself back up, his wings sparking dangerously numerous times each second. His bird-like mask and green eyes stare them both down.

"Hey, Pedro," he greets in a gruff voice, then directs his beady eyes toward Lena. "I don't know who you are, girl, but you don't look like my daughter."

Peter's cheeks flush in the amber glow of the flames surrounding them, but he doesn't reply.

Lena has a different approach. "Fuck off!"

Vulture tilts his head to the side. "Well, that's no way to talk to your elders."

Peter gasps as the wings give another groan before straightening out in a familiar manner. A nanosecond later, Vulture takes flight despite the state of his armor. The pattern is irregular, though, as if the wings don't want to work properly anymore. He shudders in the air before swooping downward.

Lena blasts him with energy that sends him flying into a chunk of molten debris, causing it to bang into his wing. Maybe if they can just let him defeat himself—

This half-formed plan immediately goes to shit as Vulture retaliates by knocking her over with a side-swipe of his wing that slices her cheek open from lip to ear. The force of the hit knocks her off of her feet and has her rolling several yards, luckily landing on the side of her face that isn't leaking blood. Lena groans and immediately sucks in a sharp intake of breath at the sting. When she turns her head, she notices crimson dripping onto the ash-speckled sand, appearing nearly black in the dim lighting. The right side of her face feels like it's on fire as well.

Lena lets out a few more pained whimpers as she struggles to move her limbs through the stars in her vision. Every movement causes a new pulse of agony from somewhere in her body. It makes getting to her knees a worthy accomplishment. Even then, her head spins, causing nausea to rise in her stomach so suddenly that it lurches. Nothing comes out. She takes that as a pretty good sign, cringing as she holds her bleeding cheek and rises up.

She's just in time to see Vulture stab a razor-sharp edge of his wing into Peter's hood, raising him up like a sacrificial lamb for slaughter. The younger boy gives no attempt to fight back. Peter is worn out, his face covered in sweat, grime, sand, and blood that's trailing from his lips. Vulture regards him carefully as if deciding what his clever final statement will be.

Stifling down a cry of pain that may alert Vulture of her presence, she plants her feet more securely beneath her and struggles to raise her trembling arms. They shake violently as if there are miniature earthquakes trapped under her skin. Tears run into the cut, causing the stinging pain to increase until she has to keep her teeth clenched just to stay quiet.

And then Vulture drops him face-down onto the ground.

Lena is so stunned that she can only watch as the man removes his mask, revealing the triumphant expression on his wrinkled face as he stares at the trunk of Stark technology like it's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. His wings shower sparks galore as he glides forward to retrieve them.

Lena doesn't give a shit about his actions anymore. She only cares about Peter as she races toward him as fast as her body will allow, but it's like the uneven sand is tar and it takes all her effort just to run. Collapsing for the umpteenth time this evening, she places a hand on Peter's shoulder tentatively. His eyes are closed.

No. Even if he's just unconscious, she doesn't know how she can do this alone. Not with her lack of super strength or speed or stamina. Not with her body feeling like it's trying to lift the sky every time she stands.

"Peter?" she carefully whispers, wincing again at the sting that moving her lips brings to the laceration across her face. "Peter, come on."

I can't do this alone. I need you.

Those are the things she would have said if he hadn't woken up, slowly raising his head to direct his gaze toward Vulture's form. She follows his wide-eyed gaze to see the man's wings sparking uncontrollably as he struggles to lift the box of precious items into the air with him. The improper balance causes him to teeter to one side dangerously.

"Your w—" Peter mumbles to himself before screaming, "Your wings! They're gonna explode!"

With a cry of pain, he raises one arm and presses the button on his web shooter, attaching one to the box. He clambers to his feet and attaches both hands to the web in an attempt to drag them back to safety.

Lena stays in a sitting position because she doesn't think she can get back up again. Instead, she forms a ball in her hand and watches dejectedly as it fizzles to nothing. Her spirits sink when she tries again and it still doesn't work. Come on, come on!

"Time to go home, Pete," Vulture says with an oblivious smile on his face.

"We're trying to save you!" Peter shouts back, gripping onto the web as tightly as he can and arms straining with the effort.

But Vulture merely slashes it in half and lets Peter fall backward from the sudden leverage. The mechanical whines increase in volume the higher he rises into the night sky, causing tears of frustration to roll down Lena's face as her powers continually fizzle out. It's like they're mocking her.

Peter isn't having any luck, either. He throws out an arm to attach another web, but nothing happens. He stares at his web shooter as if it has betrayed him by running out of web fluid.

Lena can't protect them with a force field this time, and she also can't form one around Vulture as his suit explodes and he crashes down into a circle of flames.

The only thing she can do is throw herself back onto the sand to protect her face. Her ears ring with the closeness of the explosion, causing her own breathing to be the loudest sound in the world. She dares to look up after a few moments of painful not-knowing.

The flames are seven-feet-high, surrounding the man in an arch of fire that seems nearly impenetrable. Peter swears under his breath and turns desperately toward Lena.

"Can you—" he motions as if he's releasing a force field. His voice sounds like he's speaking under water.

Lena tries, pouring her soul into creating a ball of energy into her cupped hands, but nothing forms except a pitiful swirl. It's almost painful to emit anything from her body anymore.

In response, Peter turns toward the circle of fire and blocks his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He doesn't give her any chance to stop him before racing toward Vulture's fallen form in the middle of them.

"Peter!" she shouts after him, feeling as if her throat is being ripped raw. Her head pounds with the volume of her words. "Are you insane?"

But he disappears into the wreckage without looking back.

Lena lets her shoulders slump in defeat. She doesn't bother to wipe the blood dribbling down her face, instead letting it run as she stares intently at the place he entered. The heat in there must be intense. Vulture's wings are made of metal— surely it must be incredibly hot to the touch. What if something in that box explodes?

She grips her aching head in an attempt to get it to shut up. These possibilities aren't helping one bit. They're only making her more afraid, more nauseous, and more certain that she's going to be sick on this beach.

Then a figure emerges from the smoke. Lena straightens, elation filling her as she recognizes the crappy Spider-Man costume and a wingless man slung over his shoulders. She scrambles to her feet. The movement causes her to retch dangerously, but she holds the bile down and watches as Peter lets Vulture slip carelessly off of his back.

She hobbles toward Peter and doesn't spare Vulture a second glance before saying, "You selfless idiot," and lightly knocking Peter upside the head.

He breathlessly replies, "I had to."

And, of course, she knows that.

Together, the two exhausted teenagers manage to assemble the rest of the nearly-stolen technology from the plane and stack the boxes on top of each other— mostly thanks to Peter on that one. He finds an extra tube of web fluid and uses it to secure a defeated Vulture to the largest box. Lena tosses his helmet beside his feet and flips him off.

They also craft a message that they scrawl on a piece of paper found in the jet:

FOUND: Flying Vulture Guy
—Spider-Man and Havoc
P.S: Sorry about your plane!

Afterward, the pair sits on the very top of the maintenance stand on the Cyclone roller coaster, observing as the police and Tony Stark's very own Head of Security arrive at the scene. Lena supposes that she should do something about the cut on her face, but uses her wrist to wipe the blood off for now. She's too tired to do much else.

She can't help but feel a swelling of pride in her chest for accomplishing the impossible. Two low-level heroes saved highly expensive Avengers gear from being stolen by a madman dressed like a bird. Graham and Ned will love the story of tonight.

Her parents may have created her to become a weapon, but tonight she proved Tony's words that you are what you choose to be.

Then, a thought strikes Lena so intensely that it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey, Peter, do we have any Physics homework?"

_______

this is the longest chapter of this book at 6k words and i am EXHAUSTED. boy am i glad that this final fight scene is over with. the parkos feels really got me this time. i love writing their hugs! not to mention that the bit with lena throwing out her force field would be SUCH a cool movie moment, js

i'm really shook that this is almost the end! i still have one or two more chapters planned, but i'm super excited because that means i finally get to share with you something i've had in the drafts of this book since the very beginning ((;

(i said "wings" 28 times this chapter i'm really about to cry)

ps: is anyone good at making manips because i am not but i REALLY want to see one of lena and peter oh my GODD

-kristyn