Two months had passed since Ben's first date with Felicia, and things were going better than he ever imagined. They had gone on several more dates, growing closer with each one. It wasn't love—not yet—but something close, something real. It made the chaos of his double life as Spider-Man a little easier to manage.
Tonight, Ben swung through the dimly lit streets of New York City, his mind drifting to Felicia as the cool wind rushed past him. The city below sparkled like a sea of stars, but his thoughts were focused on her.
"Maybe the new art museum that's opening soon?" he muttered, swinging gracefully from one building to another. "I know she loves statues and all that artsy stuff… but what if it's boring?"
His musings were cut short by a piercing scream that shattered the quiet of the night. Instinct kicked in. Ben shot a web to a nearby building and swung toward the source of the noise. He landed silently on the edge of a rooftop, scanning the darkened alley below.
His heart stopped for a moment.
A cloaked figure loomed over a terrified woman sprawled on the cold pavement. The figure's head dipped close to her neck, and in a flash of recognition, Ben realized what was about to happen.
"Nope!" he hissed, shooting a web toward the cloaked figure's back. The sticky strand latched on, and with a hard yank, Ben pulled the figure away from the woman, sending them crashing into a pile of trash bags.
Ben dropped down gracefully, landing between the woman and the cloaked figure. "Hey, you should go," he said gently.
The woman nodded frantically and sprinted away, leaving only Ben and the figure in the shadows.
"Alright, Dracula cosplay, you picked the wrong night to go trick-or-treating." Ben quipped, cracking his knuckles.
The cloaked figure slowly rose from the trash heap, a guttural snarl echoing through the alley. In one swift motion, the figure tossed the cloak aside, revealing a tall, pale-skinned man with jet-black hair, sharp claws, and blood-red eyes that glowed like embers in the darkness.
Ben took a reflexive step back, his eyes wide beneath the mask. "VAMPIRE!"
Before he could process what he was seeing, the creature lunged with supernatural speed, claws slicing through the air. Ben barely dodged, flipping backward and landing on the alley wall.
"How is a vampire real?!" he muttered, sticking to the brick surface. "I thought they were just stories… Like Bigfoot… or polite New York cab drivers."
Then it hit him—the pale, drained bodies from the news… the puncture wounds on their necks. It was him.
The vampire hissed and rushed at him again, claws gleaming. Ben twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding the attack, then kicked the creature square in the face, sending it crashing into a dumpster with a loud metallic clang.
The vampire rose slowly, its crimson eyes burning with anger.
"Man, you're really mad, huh?" Ben called out, still trying to regain control of the situation. "Listen, I used to be Team Jacob, but if it makes you feel better, I'm totally Team Edward now."
The creature snarled, its fangs glinting in the dim light.
"Also, while I've got you here… who are you supposed to be, anyway?"
The vampire took a menacing step forward, its voice a low, guttural growl. "Morbius."
Ben sighed dramatically. "You know what? Forget Team Edward—Team Jacob all the way."
With that, he sprang into action, leaping toward Morbius with fists clenched.
The Fight
Ben launched a powerful punch, but Morbius blocked it with surprising strength, countering with a claw swipe that narrowly missed Ben's chest. The two circled each other like predators ready to strike.
"Did you sharpen those claws at a nail salon?" Ben quipped, dodging another slash. "What's the deal? Was the vampire job market really that bad?"
Morbius roared, leaping toward him. Ben flipped over him, landing gracefully on a nearby fire escape.
"Seriously, you need a breath mint," Ben added. "You smell like a crypt mixed with expired garlic bread."
Enraged, Morbius grabbed the fire escape and ripped it off the building, hurling it at Ben.
"Okay, wow!" Ben barely managed to flip out of the way as the metal frame crashed into the alley wall with a deafening boom. "Talk about overreacting! You could've just asked me to leave."
Webbing up a pair of nearby trash can lids, he hurled them like makeshift shields. They clanged against Morbius's chest, forcing him back a few steps—but only seemed to make him angrier.
"Alright, I get it. You're allergic to humor," Ben quipped, dodging another slash. "But guess what? I'm allergic to getting murdered!"
He shot a web toward Morbius's feet, yanking them out from under him. The vampire hit the ground hard but recovered with unnatural speed, lunging at Ben once more.
This time, Morbius managed to grab Ben mid-air, slamming him hard into the alley floor. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through Ben's back, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Pinned beneath the vampire's crushing grip, Ben struggled as Morbius bared his fangs, ready to bite.
"Hey! Personal space!" Ben wheezed, squirming under the monster's grip.
Before Morbius could sink his fangs into Ben's neck, the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, casting faint golden rays into the dark alley.
Morbius hissed in agony, staggering back as the sunlight burned his skin like acid. His red eyes locked on Ben one last time, full of fury, before he vanished into the shadows with supernatural speed.
Ben groaned, lying flat on his back. Every inch of his body ached from the brutal fight.
"Yeah… you better run…" he mumbled breathlessly.
He flopped back down onto the cold pavement, exhausted. "Team Jacob… all the way."
As the sun continued to rise, casting warm light over the quiet alley, Ben closed his eyes for just a moment, already dreading the next encounter—but knowing this was far from over.