Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 33: Vs. The Vulture

[Third Person POV] 


“Well, this can’t end too well, can it?” Richard’s voice crackled through the earpiece, laced with an uneasy sarcasm. 


Damon exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he crouched on the edge of a towering skyscraper. “Just what is happening to this city, man…” he muttered, his tone a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. He didn’t expect an answer—it was more of a lament than a question.


With a sudden push, he leapt from the ledge, the wind roaring past his ears as the city stretched out below him like a glittering maze of chaos. He fired a webline with practiced precision, the strand latching onto a nearby billboard, and used the momentum to swing himself forward into the heart of the chase.


The city lights flickered beneath him as he pursued the Vulture through the labyrinth of buildings. Damon ran along the glass sides of an apartment tower, feet pounding against the surface before vaulting off and rounding a sharp corner. Just ahead, he caught sight of his target—Adrian Toomes, the Vulture—diving straight toward an Oscorp delivery van speeding down the avenue.


Vulture ripped open the top of the van with his wings, sparks flying as metal tore apart. His voice crackled with fury, and his eyes burned with madness. ‘How dare he fire me! How dare he underestimate my potential! He thinks I won’t retaliate if he plans to steal my tech?!’ His thoughts churned violently, anger distorting every word in his mind. “Just as he took everything from me, I’ll take everything from him!”


“I heard vultures were scavengers,” Damon quipped, “but not to this level!”


Toomes whipped around midair, wings flaring wide, just in time to see Spider-Man fire a web directly at his chest. The impact yanked him forwards, pulling him off the van as it swerved through traffic below.


“How dare you stop me—!! Wait, why are you wearing a cowboy hat?” Toomes blurted, his outrage breaking into genuine confusion.


Damon landed gracefully on a nearby fire escape, crouched with one hand resting on his knee. “You like it?” he asked, tipping the brim of his hat with a smirk. “Thought I’d match the theme of the day. Everyone’s going for that western vibe lately—got cowboys and vultures… all we need now is a tumbleweed to roll by.”


Toomes stared for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t have time for your childishness.” His wings flared again, and the engines attached to his suit roared to life. He shot forward like a missile, sparks trailing from the thrusters.


“Wait, wait! You didn’t rate the outfit!” Damon called out as he gave chase, swinging through the maze of skyscrapers. “Come on, be honest—how fly am I right now? Haha, get it? Fly—because you’ve got wings? Oh man, I crack myself up!”


“Dude,” Richard groaned through the earpiece, “I hope you realize I suffer right alongside the villains every time you make one of those terrible puns.”


“Harsh. And technically,” Damon countered, “classifying him as a villain is a bit much. We don’t really know his story yet.”


Toomes glanced back, his expression twisting in frustration as he saw Damon closing in, refusing to let up. Clicking his tongue, he suddenly veered upward in a sharp loop, circling around to dive straight back at him.


“Whoa!” Damon shouted, twisting his body midair to avoid the incoming wings that sliced through the air like blades. He dropped into a freefall, wind whipping past him, before firing a quick web at Toomes’s ankles.


The web connected.


A heartbeat later, Damon yanked hard, slamming the Vulture straight down. The armored criminal crashed into the roof of a parked car with a metallic crunch, the impact caving it in while glass exploded outward in a shower of glittering shards.


Chaos erupted. Pedestrians screamed and scrambled for cover. Cars screeched to a halt, tires squealing and horns blaring. A driver slammed his hand on the horn, leaning halfway out the window.


“Hey, watch it! I got a kid in the backseat!”


Another motorist yelled, “What kind of idiot drops a in the middle of the road?!”


A third voice added angrily, “Have you lost your mind?! We could’ve crashed!”


Amid the cacophony of car alarms and honking, Damon crouched in the middle of the street, hands raised like a traffic cop trying to calm a stampede. “Everything’s under control! There’s nothing to fear! Please—try not to panic!”


Damon’s spider-sense rang in his head like an alarm bell, sharp and shrill. Every nerve in his body flared with danger. Without hesitation, Damon kicked off the ground, flipping backward into a spinning somersault. The green blur of Vulture shot past him, missing by mere inches. Mid-spin, Damon fired two webs downward, anchoring them to the asphalt. He yanked hard, using the tension to sling himself downward with precision — right on top of Adrian Toomes.


The two crashed into the street like a meteor.


“ARCKK!” Adrian howled as the asphalt cracked beneath the impact, chunks of debris scattering outward. The force sent a shockwave through the pavement, shaking nearby parked cars. Fortunately for him, his reinforced wingsuit absorbed most of the damage, though not enough to dull the pain completely.


“Persistent little pest!” Adrian hissed through gritted teeth as his thrusters flared to life, the roar of the engines deafening in Damon’s ears.


Spider-Man’s boots clung to the Vulture’s back with his adhesive grip, refusing to let go. Before he knew it, the two of them were being lifted off the ground, ascending rapidly into the sky. The sudden rise pulled Damon’s stomach into his throat, and he yelled out in surprise.


“Whoa—hey, I wasn’t planning on first-class air travel tonight!” he shouted, clutching his cowboy hat with one hand. Then, slipping into a thick southern drawl, he hollered, “Yeehaw!! I know Ma would be proud if she saw me ridin’ such a big ol’ birdy!”


“GET. OFF. OF. ME!!” Adrian roared as he twisted violently midair. He spun and banked, trying desperately to shake Damon loose, but Spider-Man’s grip was unyielding.


Toomes suddenly veered toward a nearby building, driving Damon straight into the wall of a brick structure. Damon grunted as he was scraped across the surface, chunks of red brick exploding and raining down onto the street below like fiery rubble.


“Okay—ow—rude!” Damon grunted between impacts, before lashing out with a punch that connected with Adrian’s jaw.


The exchange escalated fast. The two of them tumbled through the air in a chaotic dance of violence, slamming against walls, colliding with light poles, and barely dodging between passing cars and buses. Their fight cut a destructive path through the cityscape — a blur of feathers, webs, and glowing thrusters.


Down below, civilians screamed and scattered for cover as the aerial brawl tore across the skyline. Phones were whipped out in seconds. Dozens of people started recording, some yelling encouragement, others just gawking in disbelief.


As they roared overhead, a white vapor trail streaked across the night from the heat of the Vulture’s thrusters.


Damon managed to flip their positions, landing a solid punch to Adrian’s face. The Vulture growled in pain as blood splattered across his cheek, fresh bruises blooming under the pressure of each hit. For a few moments, Damon was in control — he hammered down blow after blow, pinning Adrian as they flew past a glass high-rise that shattered under the strain.


But then their roles reversed. With a snarl, Adrian surged upward, his thrusters flaring brighter. He spun in the air, disorienting Damon, flinging him around so violently that his surroundings became a dizzying whirl of light and color. The city, sky, and horizon twisted into a blur, distorting him, his senses being heightened certainly didn't help against motion sickness.


Adrian hurled him upward like a ragdoll. Damon’s senses screamed in overdrive —  his head spinning as his body tumbled weightlessly through the air. Then, just as quickly, Vulture’s hand clamped around his leg.


Adrian’s furious grin was the last thing Damon saw before being thrown down like a comet.


The impact hit hard.


Spider-Man slammed into a rooftop, concrete shattering beneath him as a cloud of dust erupted into the night. Chunks of debris bounced off his suit as his head lolled to one side.


“Ow…” Damon groaned weakly, his voice muffled by the settling dust. “That… definitely wasn’t a soft landing.”


Up above, Adrian hovered for a moment, shaking his head to clear his own dizziness before banking away, his silhouette shrinking into the distance.


“Spider-Man, he’s getting away,” Richard’s voice came through the earpiece, filled with a wince of sympathy.


“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Damon muttered dryly, pushing himself up and brushing concrete dust off his shoulders. “Appreciate the play-by-play.”


As he straightened, something fell through the air beside him — his cowboy hat, drifting lazily down from above. Without even looking, Damon fired a webline, catching it mid-drop and pulling it neatly back onto his head. He tilted it back with a grin.


“Don’t worry, partner,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “After all… it’s hunting season.”


Richard sighed. “He’s fast. Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up with him?”


Damon’s confidence faltered for half a second. “I’ll… think of a way,” he replied, though his tone didn’t sound quite as sure as his words.


“Try using your heat vision,” Richard suggested after a moment’s thought. “If his thrusters are still running hot, they might’ve left behind a faint thermal trail. You’ll have to move quick though—those traces will vanish in seconds.”


Damon perked up immediately. “Rich, I could kiss you right now,” he said as his eyes began to glow faintly blue.


“Please don’t,” Richard groaned.


Scanning the skyline, Damon saw exactly what Richard meant — a dim, flickering orange trail curling through the sky like a serpent of fire, fading fast but visible enough to follow.


“Gotcha,” Damon said with a grin beneath his mask, crouching low before leaping off the rooftop and swinging after the trail. “Time to clip a bird’s wings.”