Chapter Text
Spider-Man lost a leg. There was no denying it. It was on video, multiple shaking phones catching the scene as it unfolded.
It was the Vulture this time, back from whatever hole he'd slunk to when he evaded arrest just a month prior. He'd upgraded his tech, wings slicker and quicker to respond. Flight feathers made of metal were replaced with a material with a bit more give, a little more lift as the material bulged from the wind pressure. He was faster, more agile, no more fumbling in the air if Spider-Man made a sharp turn to try and mix him up.
It was harder for Spider-Man to get away, harder for him to do anything to the Vulture before he had to swing away again in fear of being hit. The fight was lingering longer than it should have, wearing Spider-Man down.
The watching citizens caught it all. The ones who hadn't fled, the ones who decided to get to a rooftop for a better view of the action despite the risk. They saw it.
Spider-Man swung around a pillar, the Vulture flying parallel to him, and the hero couldn't get out of the way fast enough. The Vulture twisted, flying towards Spider-Man's arc without hesitation. Spider-Man shot a web upwards and yanked, flinging himself out of the way—mostly.
The inertia from his swing kept his body moving forwards, despite the force flinging him upwards. He avoided crashing straight into the Vulture, but his legs swung outwards, and apparently, the wings were insanely sharp.
The Vulture's wing sliced through the hero’s right leg. Literally right through it, just below the knee. The half of the videos wouldn't notice right away, tracking Spider-Man as he shot another web and pulled himself away.
It was seconds later in the videos when cries of shock could be heard, citizens fully realizing what had just happened. One video followed the limb, capturing a bloody image of Spider-Man's leg tumbling to the pavement.
That video got the most hits.
A chorus of "Oh, god"s echoed from the video as the man behind the phone took in what he was recording.
Another video had a good shot of Spider-Man directly after. The hero had landed on an exposed beam from the construction site he'd been using to swing too and fro. He was clutching his leg, fingers digging into the muscle above his knee. Shaking. He was shaking, visible tremors coursing through his body despite the wobbling footage. Blood was dribbling from the severed appendage as the hero knelt on the beam, his form curling into itself in obvious agony.
Then there was a shout from behind the camera, desperate and cracked. "Spidey, behind you!"
The camera jostled, and focused on the incoming Vulture. Spider-Man jolted, rolled off the beam like a dead weight, and clumsily webbed his way to a concrete roof. The landing was bad. With only one leg to brace himself, Spider-Man tumbled to the ground, face down for a good second before painfully propping himself up on his elbows.
The next video had already been removed for violating YouTube's terms of service. Someone re-uploaded it on Daily Motion.
It had been recorded on one of the newest Stark phones, the ones that would stabilize shaky footage and pick up low light images much better than most other phone cameras. Only seconds in, and it was clear why YouTube got on the video faster than any others.
The person behind the camera was much closer than any of the other citizens, only a rooftop away. What were reddish stains in the other videos was clear, flowing blood here. The detail was harrowing, giving the viewer a look into Spidey that they never wanted to see. The bleeding muscle quivered at the point of the server, blood pulsing out of the wound steadily and giving a clear indicator of the hero’s rapid heartbeat. The liquid was soaking through the suit and discoloring the blue portions of Spider-Man’s outfit.
It was disturbing to watch, especially with the panicked noises of civilians behind the camera. Spider-Man remained still for a moment, breathing heavily, before rolling onto his side and inspecting in right leg. There was no visible expression on the man’s face, despite Spidey’s uncanny ability to twist his mask around to express himself. But the hero stared for a good while, breathing a bit too rapidly.
Then, more shouts. The Vulture didn’t give a damn if Spidey needed a minute. The civilians’ panic seemed to bring Spider-Man out of his daze, and he looked to the sky to see the Vulture headed towards him once more.
He jumped into action, despite the wound, despite the obvious pain. From—somewhere, it was hard to see in the video—Spider-Man produced a small cartridge of liquid. His chest stilled, as if he were bracing himself, as he brought the small vial to the bleeding stump. His fist clenched, the vial cracked, and a mass of webbing formed over the injury, creating a sort of web-bandage.
And then he was off. Webbing his way off the concrete roof and swinging back towards the Vulture. The person behind the camera let out a disbelieving laugh, choked with fear.
There were other videos around, detailing Spider-Man’s fight. Showing how he kept in the air, rarely perching anywhere. He clung to the side of buildings on occasion, left leg and arm sticking him to the walls, before he’d drop and swing himself somewhere else, no longer willing to launch himself from the edge without both legs to throw him in the right direction.
He relied on gravity, slowly dragging the Vulture down to an alley. There weren’t any clear videos of what went on in the alley, but by the end of it, it seemed the Vulture had jammed a wing into the side of the building, the other webbed all to hell against the same wall.
But Spider-Man, god, where was he? He’d vanished, despite the army of paramedics ready and eager to help the hero. The news outlet reported that he was missing, that all he left behind was the Vulture and a severed, mangled leg lying on the pavement.