The Ancient One's Reward

Black Cat still had a finger under Spider-Man's chin when Morlun moved.

He sprang from the ground like a leopard that had been waiting to pounce, on all fours with his body pressed low, moving in a way no human body should have been able to.

His coat flared behind him like a pair of invisible wings. Cold, gleaming claws sprang from all ten fingertips, flashing dangerously in the sunlight.

His target was Spider-Man's head.

Peter Parker's Spider-Sense gave him no warning. He didn't know it was useless against the Inheritors; he thought his power had failed again. Right now, his eyes were more useful than his Spider-Sense.

But his body couldn't keep up with his eyes.

He had six arms, only four of which he could use freely. The other two still had minds of their own, and then there were his original two legs.

His coordination was at least three times more complicated than usual. When his brain ordered him to dodge, his body needed a fraction of a second to work out which arm should move where and how much weight each leg should bear.

A fraction of a second meant little in an ordinary fight. Against Morlun, it was the difference between life and death.

The claws swept through where Spider-Man had just stood, carving four deep gouges into the concrete.

Stone chips flew and dust rose. At the last instant, Peter sprang sideways, rolled twice along the ground, and steadied himself on one knee.

All four working arms braced against the ground. He looked a mess, but he had barely dodged it.

"Nice." Black Cat kicked Morlun in the waist, then flipped through the air to bleed off the recoil. Her praise sounded a little strained.

"Those four new arms make pretty good training wheels."