Then the actuators shrieked, and the moment was gone. He fled, smashing through the interior walls.
“You can’t save her,” Ock hissed. “You can’t save anyone. Not your uncle. Not Harry’s mother. Not yourself.”
“Thirty-nine floors, Otto,” Peter said, pulling his mask back down. “High enough to fall. High enough to see the whole city. But you’re looking at the wrong thing. You’re looking at the sun. You should be looking at the people down there.” spider man 2 2004 39
The fight on the 39th floor was different. No quips could mask the exhaustion. Peter’s body felt like a bag of loose hammers. He caught one actuator, then another slammed into his ribs. He heard something crack. The woman scrambled inside. Good. One less worry.
For three seconds, he was pure flight. No doubt. No guilt. No memory of Harry’s sneer or Jameson’s headline: SPIDER-MAN: MENACE OR THREAT? Then the actuators shrieked, and the moment was gone
Doc Ock loomed over him, the rain sizzling into steam where it touched the reactor on his back. The actuator with the cylinder raised it high for a killing blow.
And that’s when the hum stopped.
He rolled under the descending claw, grabbed the live wire, and jabbed it into the puddle just as the actuator’s metal claw closed around his throat.
Not a crime. A woman. On a balcony on the 39th floor of the Roxxon building across the way. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't waving. She was just… standing there. Perfectly still. One hand on the railing, her white nightgown whipping in the wind like a ghost's shroud. “You can’t save anyone
He fired a line, not at the building, but at a passing news helicopter a block away. The pilot yelped over the radio as Spider-Man used the chopper’s momentum to slingshot himself upward, a human pendulum arcing through the rain-slashed dark.