The glass curtain wall loomed straight ahead.
Chen Mo charged through the cabin and slammed his shoulder through the locked cockpit door.
Inside, the Hydra pilot lay slumped over the console, his forehead covered in blood, one hand still reaching for the holster beside him.
Chen Mo flicked his hand.
Webbing glued the pilot's hand and gun beneath the seat.
"We're about to crash into a building and you're still thinking about shooting me? Isn't that Hydra work ethic a little misplaced?"
The pilot struggled.
The ship lurched sharply to the right.
The glass curtain wall drew closer.
The console was covered in red lights, and several numbers were dropping rapidly. Chen Mo looked for two seconds and confirmed that he recognized none of them.
Fine.
A professional problem called for Spider-Man's professional solution.
Chen Mo punched through the maintenance hatch above the cockpit, and wind instantly rushed inside. He grabbed the edge and flipped onto the roof, his Red and Black Suit whipping against his body.
A building on the left.
A building on the right.
In between was a Hydra ship about to add another major insurance claim to New York's tally.
Chen Mo raised both wrists at once.
Thwip! Thwip!
Two strands of webbing crossed the street and stuck to the load-bearing steel frames atop the buildings on either side.
The webs pulled taut.
Chen Mo stuck both feet to the bow, and the ship dragged his entire body forward. His shoulders felt as though two trucks were pulling them apart, and the metal hull beneath his soles buckled with a crack.
The ship kept moving forward.
"Stop!"
Gritting his teeth, Chen Mo pulled his wrists back.
The first layer of webbing stretched into fine threads.
The bow kept drawing closer to the glass.
Thirty meters.
Twenty