Miles - Recovers from hit from Starling

Round two, Pigeon. Looking around, I realize I’m now in what used to be an office. I say, “used to,” because what I’m looking at is almost unrecognizable. Office chairs lie sideways with their wheels spinning in the air. Cubicle walls have fallen over each other like dominoes. Half-eaten lunches sit on the desks that still stand. Debris litters the floor, so much that even my spider boots—which I’m wearing right now—crunch across the room like I’m the one wearing steel boots. I look around for a moment, wondering where they could’ve possibly gone, and then…

WHAM!

I go flying forward with a scream so banshee-ish that it’s embarrassing, and then crash!

Out the window I go.

A different window. Regular-guy reflexes kick in, and I forget I have Spider-Man powers for a second. Then I look up and see Pigeon flying overhead, and I web-sling and catch one of their feet.

Swipe!

A handful of claws swoops down and cuts right through my web, but I’m too fast. Thwip! I catch the other foot before I can fall.

***

I dive down feet-first through the several-story hole Pigeon made in the floor, flying past desks and chairs and sparking wires and short-circuited electronics. And what luck, Pigeon decides to peek out from whatever floor they’ve landed on, arm wrapped around a briefcase, and look up the hole. I smirk.

Gotcha.

I throw my arms around their neck and suck them down the hole with me until I feel a force against my back like a freight train, which knocks the wind out of me, along with my soul, and leaves me lying here coughing amid the dust and debris we’ve kicked up now that we’re on a floor that doesn’t have a hole smack dab in the middle of it. Pigeon looms over me, pinning my shoulders to the floor, but I’m ready. I spring my feet up and kick them firmly in their ribcage, tossing them over my head to the floor with the force of what I hope is a thousand wrestlers, rolling to my feet and bouncing up and down like a boxer out of habit.

***

Chapter 7