The streets below were an inferno of motion and sound. Protesters clashed with riot police under the harsh glare of helicopter spotlights. Plumes of tear gas curled through the air like toxic ghosts, choking those who dared to stand their ground. Every corner felt like the edge of a war zone, and the city's pulse was erratic, fueled by rage, fear, and desperation.
Leroy and Aisha moved quickly, weaving through alleys and side streets to avoid the thickest of the chaos. Aisha led with determination, her instincts sharp from years of navigating the city's fractured terrain. Leroy followed, his senses heightened in ways that still unnerved him. He could feel the tension in the air, almost like static electricity, and every sound seemed amplified—the crunch of broken glass underfoot, the distant cries of protesters, the rhythmic thud of police boots on asphalt.
They stopped behind a row of burned-out cars, their rusted shells glowing faintly in the firelight. Leroy's heart pounded as he peeked around the edge of the wreckage. Ahead, a group of protesters had formed a barricade, using dumpsters and debris to block the street. Riot police were advancing in formation, shields raised and batons at the ready.
"This is bad," Aisha muttered, crouching beside him.
Leroy nodded, his gaze fixed on the scene. "They're outnumbered. And unarmed."
Aisha's jaw tightened. "We have to do something."
Leroy hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He could feel the web stirring inside him, a faint hum in his chest and hands. But doubt gnawed at him. He'd only used his powers a handful of times, and even then, it had been instinctual, chaotic. What if he lost control? What if he made things worse?
"Leroy," Aisha said, her voice cutting through his thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. Those people need us. Now."
He took a deep breath, forcing the fear down. She was right. He couldn't stand by and do nothing.
The first step was always the hardest. Leroy stepped out from behind the car, his heart hammering in his chest. He raised his hands, focusing on the space between them. The web responded immediately, shimmering into existence like a living thread of light. It was stronger this time, more solid, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
Aisha stared, her eyes wide. "Okay, that's… new."
Leroy didn't have time to explain. He focused on the web, shaping it with his mind, guiding it like a painter wielding a brush. The strands extended outward, latching onto the sides of buildings and forming a dense, shimmering barrier between the protesters and the advancing police.
The riot cops stopped in their tracks, their shields raised in confusion. The barrier wasn't physical—at least, not entirely—but it shimmered with an intensity that made it impossible to ignore.
"What the hell is that?" one of the officers muttered.
Leroy stepped forward, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "It's a line you don't want to cross."
The officers hesitated, their formation breaking as they exchanged nervous glances. The protesters took advantage of the moment, rallying behind Leroy's barrier and chanting louder than ever.
"Stand your ground!" Aisha shouted, her voice carrying over the chaos. "We're not backing down!"
Leroy felt a surge of adrenaline, the web thrumming with energy. But maintaining it was like holding his breath underwater—every second pushed him closer to his limits. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he focused on keeping the barrier intact.
The tension was unbearable, a standoff with no clear end. Leroy's hands shook as he pushed against the strain, his mind racing for a way to diffuse the situation.
Then he saw it—a flash of movement on the rooftop across the street.
The stranger.
He stood silently, his gray coat blending into the shadows, but his presence was undeniable. His gaze locked with Leroy's, and in that moment, Leroy felt a jolt of clarity.
The web isn't just yours to weave.
The words echoed in his mind, and something clicked. Leroy closed his eyes, focusing not on the web itself but on the people around him—their fear, their anger, their hope. He could feel their emotions like threads, interwoven with his own, forming a tapestry of raw, unfiltered humanity.
When he opened his eyes, the web had changed. It wasn't just his creation anymore. It shimmered with the collective will of the crowd, their energy feeding into it, strengthening it.
The riot cops faltered, their formation breaking further. One officer lowered his shield, then another, until the line dissolved entirely. They turned and retreated, leaving the barricade intact.
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a wave of triumph. Aisha turned to Leroy, her face lit with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"You did it," she said, her voice barely audible over the noise.
Leroy shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We did it."
But the moment of victory was short-lived. A deafening explosion rocked the street, sending debris flying in all directions. Leroy was thrown backward, the web disintegrating as his concentration shattered.
When he regained his senses, the air was thick with dust and smoke. He coughed, struggling to his feet as screams filled the night. Aisha was beside him, her face streaked with blood but her eyes blazing with determination.
"What now?" she asked, helping him up.
Leroy's mind raced, the storm inside him threatening to spiral out of control. He looked around, taking in the chaos—the wounded, the burning buildings, the people still fighting despite the odds.
The web isn't just yours to weave.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The stranger's words had haunted him, but now they felt like a challenge—a call to action.
"We keep going," he said, his voice firm. "We find whoever did this. And we stop them."
Aisha nodded, her expression resolute. Together, they stepped back into the fray, the fires of Baltimore casting long shadows as they disappeared into the chaos.