The city greeted the dawn with an uneasy stillness. The docks, scarred from the night's destruction, felt abandoned, yet Leroy knew they were far from forgotten. Baltimore didn't let its wounds fade—it wore them like battle scars, reminders of what had been taken and what it had yet to reclaim.
Leroy and Aisha made their way through the quiet streets, their pace brisk but purposeful. Every so often, Aisha glanced back over her shoulder, her hand brushing against the strap of her bag as if to reassure herself it was still there. She carried whatever she had salvaged from the docks—schematics, tools, and fragments of the strange devices they'd encountered.
"You think this is enough to figure out who's behind this?" Aisha asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Leroy glanced at her, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's a start. If we can trace where these pieces came from, we might get closer to whoever's pulling the strings."
"And when we do?"
Leroy didn't answer immediately. The web stirred faintly within him, its threads tugging at his thoughts. "We make sure they can't do this again."
The tension between them lingered as they reached an old brownstone on the edge of the neighborhood. The building looked forgotten, its windows boarded and its facade streaked with grime, but it was home—at least for now. Leroy pushed open the creaking door, leading Aisha into the dimly lit interior.
The space was sparse but functional: a few mismatched pieces of furniture, a makeshift workbench cluttered with tools and notebooks, and a small cot in the corner. A tattered map of Baltimore was pinned to the wall, its surface marked with notes and pins tracking patterns in the chaos.
Aisha set her bag on the workbench, her eyes scanning the room. "This where you've been hiding out?"
Leroy shrugged. "It's quiet. Gives me space to think."
Aisha smirked. "Looks more like a mad scientist's lab than a hideout."
"Not far off," Leroy replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Aisha pulled a chair closer to the workbench, unpacking the salvaged pieces from her bag. "Okay, genius. Where do we start?"
Leroy joined her, his fingers brushing against the metallic fragments. The web pulsed faintly, its threads connecting to the pieces as though recognizing them. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation, letting it guide him.
"These aren't just machines," he said after a moment. "They're… nodes. Part of a network."
"Like the web?" Aisha asked, her tone skeptical.
"Sort of," Leroy replied. "But this isn't organic. It's artificial—someone's trying to replicate the web's energy, to harness it."
Aisha frowned. "And let me guess: that's bad?"
"Very bad," Leroy said. "The web isn't something you can control, not entirely. It's… alive, in a way. Trying to force it into something like this—" He gestured to the fragments. "—could tear it apart."
Aisha leaned back in her chair, her expression grim. "So whoever's doing this isn't just messing with the city—they're messing with something way bigger."
Leroy nodded. "And if they succeed, it could be catastrophic."
Aisha sighed, rubbing her temples. "Great. No pressure or anything."
Leroy picked up one of the fragments, turning it over in his hands. The metal was smooth and cool to the touch, its surface etched with faint, intricate patterns that seemed to shift under the light.
"There's something familiar about this," he murmured.
Aisha leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
Leroy set the fragment down, reaching for his notebook. He flipped through its pages, his eyes scanning the sketches and notes he'd accumulated over the past weeks. Finally, he stopped, his finger tapping a particular drawing.
"This," he said, holding the notebook up to Aisha.
The sketch depicted a web-like structure, its lines converging at a central point. It wasn't just a random design—it was a pattern he'd seen in his dreams, a recurring image that had haunted him since the web first awakened.
"Are you saying you've seen this before?" Aisha asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Leroy nodded. "In my head. In the web."
The realization hit them both at the same time.
"Whoever's behind this," Aisha said slowly, "they're not just experimenting. They know about the web. They're using it."
"And they're ahead of us," Leroy added, his jaw tightening.
Aisha leaned back, her arms crossed. "So what do we do now? We can't exactly call the cops and tell them someone's weaponizing a metaphysical energy field."
Leroy smirked despite himself. "Yeah, I don't think that'll go over well."
He looked at the fragment again, the faint hum of the web resonating in his chest. "We need to trace this back to its source. Whoever made these machines, they'll lead us to the bigger picture."
Aisha raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do we trace a random piece of tech?"
Leroy's gaze shifted to the map on the wall, the pins and lines forming a chaotic network of connections. "We start with the patterns," he said. "The places where the web feels… off."
Aisha followed his gaze, her expression skeptical but resigned. "Alright, Sherlock. Let's see where this takes us."
As they worked, the faint hum of the web seemed to grow louder, its threads weaving through Leroy's thoughts like a silent guide. The fragments were pieces of a puzzle he was only beginning to understand, but for the first time, he felt like he was making progress.
The fight was far from over, but at least now, they had a direction.