Sloane was beginning to realize that the "Sam Raimi" struggle was very real. Her life didn't stop just because she could stretch across a city block. She still had to sit through a double period of American History with legs that felt like they were made of overcooked spaghetti.
"Psst. Sloane. Your arm," Rebecca hissed from the desk over.
Sloane snapped out of her daze and looked down. Her left arm had unconsciously elongated, slithering across the floor like a dark snake toward a fallen pencil three rows away.
"Crap," Sloane whispered, reeling it in hand-over-hand under her desk. She glanced at the teacher, who was busy droning on about the Great Depression. "I can't help it, Becca. My body wants to be 'loose.' Sitting still feels like trying to stay inside a suit that’s three sizes too small."
"Hold it together until the bell," Rebecca whispered back. "I’ve been monitoring the 'Meteorite Eight' tag on social media. Something is happening at the Chelsea Market. People are reporting a 'Green Blur' stealing entire delivery trucks of produce. It’s moving too fast for the NYPD to track."
Sloane adjusted her glasses. "The Human Bug."
Chelsea Market: 4:15 PM
The market was a chaotic mess of overturned crates and confused tourists. Sloane was perched on a brick ledge overlooking the loading docks, her suit shimmering in the late afternoon sun.
"He’s not attacking people, Sloane," Rebecca’s voice crackled in her ear from their secret comms. "He’s eating. According to my calculations, if his metabolism was boosted by the meteorite, he needs about fifty thousand calories an hour just to keep his heart from stopping."
"That’s a lot of hot dogs," Sloane muttered.
Suddenly, a streak of emerald light blurred past the street level. Zzzzt-shwip! A delivery driver blinked, and the crate of apples he had been holding was simply... gone.
"There!" Sloane shouted.
She launched herself from the ledge, her body flattening into a wide, aerodynamic "V" shape to catch the wind. She saw him—a teenage boy in a shredded track jacket, his skin covered in a translucent, chitinous green shimmer. Four thin, insect-like limbs sprouted from his back, helping him scuttle up the side of a brick wall with terrifying speed.
Leo Vance: The Human Bug.
"Hey! Leo! Stop!" Sloane yelled, stretching her arm out to grab a fire escape and swinging herself into his path.
Leo didn't stop. He didn't even seem to see her. His eyes were huge, multifaceted, and darting around with frantic hunger. "Need... more... fuel!" he chirped, his voice sounding like a record played at double speed.
He leaped over Sloane, his extra limbs pushing off her shoulders. He was so fast she didn't even feel him land; she just felt the gust of wind as he vanished toward the High Line park.
"He’s too fast, Becca! I can’t get a lock on him!"
"You can't outrun a bug, Sloane! You have to change the game!" Rebecca shouted. "He’s a high-frequency mover. You need to create a 'Web Zone.' Use the environment!"
Sloane landed on the High Line, the elevated park crowded with commuters. Leo was a green streak, zig-zagging between tourists, grabbing pretzels and sandwiches out of people's hands as he flew by.
Sloane saw an opportunity. Two heavy steel girders framed the walkway ahead.
"Okay, Becca. Let’s see if that warehouse practice paid off."
Sloane sprinted toward the girders. Instead of reaching for Leo, she grabbed the steel beams with both hands. She didn't pull herself forward; she stayed anchored. She began to run in a circle, her body stretching and thinning into a long, obsidian cord.
Once. Twice. Ten times.
She wove herself back and forth between the girders, creating a massive, shimmering black "spider-web" made entirely of her own elastic body.
"Leo! Look out!"
The Human Bug saw the barrier too late. He tried to pivot, but his momentum was too great. He slammed into the center of Sloane’s "web."
Instead of a hard impact, he hit the most absorbent surface on Earth. Sloane’s body stretched back ten feet to cushion the blow, then snapped forward, wrapping around Leo like a living cocoon.
"Gotcha!" Sloane grunted, her head popping out from the top of the messy pile of limbs to look at her captive.
Leo struggled, his insect limbs clicking against her suit. "Let... let me go! I’m starving! I’m burning up!"
"I know, Leo! I know!" Sloane said, her arms tightening into a firm but gentle hold. "Rebecca! The 'Emergency Fuel'!"
Rebecca came sprinting out from behind a park bench, huffing and puffing, carrying a backpack full of high-calorie protein bars and glucose drinks. She started shoving them into Leo’s mouth as Sloane held him still.
As the sugar hit his system, the green shimmer on Leo’s skin began to fade. The extra limbs on his back went limp, then slowly retracted into his spine. Leo slumped in Sloane’s arms, his human eyes fluttering open, looking exhausted and terrified.
"Is... is it over?" Leo whispered.
"For now," Sloane said, retracting her limbs until she was standing on her own feet again, still supporting him. "You’re not a monster, Leo. You’re just... running a bit too hot."
The Warehouse: 8:00 PM
Leo was asleep on a pile of gym mats, finally stable. Rebecca was hovering over her tablet, looking at the data they’d collected.
"Three down," Rebecca said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Artie is in the tunnels. Leo is safe with us. But Sloane... the news just broke."
She turned the tablet toward Sloane. The screen showed a grainy security video from a high-end apartment in the Upper East Side. A man was standing in the middle of a room, surrounded by five identical versions of himself. They weren't moving like separate people; they were moving in perfect, haunting unison.
"The Human Clone," Sloane said, a chill running down her spine.
"It gets worse," Rebecca added. "Look at the corner of the frame."
In the shadows of the video, a man in a prison jumpsuit was watching the clones. He didn't have a physical power. He was just standing there, smiling. Everyone else in the room—the security guards, the homeowners—were standing perfectly still, their eyes blank and glassy.
"That's him," Sloane whispered. "The fifth one. The one you warned me about."
"Human Mind," Rebecca said, her voice trembling. "He’s not just using his own power. He’s starting to collect the others. He’s building an army, Sloane."
Sloane looked at her hands. She thought of Artie’s grief and Leo’s hunger. They weren't villains—they were victims. And now, someone was coming to turn them into weapons.
Sloane adjusted her glasses, the reflection of the screen glinting in the lenses. "Then we better find the rest of the Eight before he does."
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