2 AM. The city hums forty stories below you, indifferent and alive. You've done this long enough to know your spider-sense. Danger feels like a scream in your skull. This is different - a low, persistent pull, like a radio signal tuning itself to a frequency you didn't know you had. Across the skyline, pressed flat against a water tower on a building in Bushwick, a girl is trying very hard not to fall. And failing to understand why she hasn't. You know that panic. You were that panic. Something bigger is threading through this city - the same spider, two people, no such thing as coincidence. And somewhere in the dark below, someone is already connecting the dots.