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SLOANE LEFT THE PENTHOUSE the next night around eight-fifteen PM, her whole body jittering with excitement. She had spent most of the day nursing away a hangover, but now that the day gave way to the night, she knew it was go-time. It took five minutes to hail a cab – her quickest time yet – and instructed the driver to get her to the Brewster Building on Queens Plaza North. The drive was quick, despite the evening traffic, and Sloane had to find a specific way to get to the roof. The building was now the corporate office for JetBlue, so there was no way to sneak inside the front doors. Sloane ended up finding a back door that led to the emergency staircase. That had to take her to the top, and sure enough, it did. The roof opened up to a barren wasteland of trash and a blinking JetBlue sign right above her head.
She stepped out onto the roof cautiously, looking around for any signs of life. A brisk wind ran through her golden brown locks and she hugged her parka closer to her chest. She wished she had remembered a hat, but at least she brought her gloves. Her forehead was starting to feel like it was already crusting over with ice. Boy, did she hope this was all worth it.
Pulling out her phone from her pocket, she watched the clock strike nine and Spider-Man was nowhere to be found. She scanned the perimeter of the building – nothing. With a huff, she watched her breath float into the cold air and replaced the phone in her hand with her flask. Sloane took a big swig, savoring the burn, allowing the vodka to warm her insides. But for the first time, it was not enough defense against the frigid wind. She shook her head and muttered, "Don't fuck this up for me, Peter Parker."
Before she could think about heading out, a tall, slightly muscular figure swung from the adjacent building to the roof of the Brewster. Sloane had been expecting him, of course, but his entrance still caught her off guard. She let out a soft gasp and held a hand to her chest. "Way to give a girl a heart attack!" She exclaimed, tightening the cap of her flask.
"Sorry, sorry," the masked hero said in a groggy voice. He held out a hand and slowly walked out of the darkness and into the yellow streetlight above their heads.
