First Cause • Spider-Man: Homecoming [Unedited]

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The trucks, three in total, swallow up most of the width of the two-lane road they crunch underneath their respective four pairs of gigantic tires. Upper fenders sporting indicative lights as big and wide as ceramic flat plates further lengthen the overall imposing figure of the trucks. Beads of harsh red lights stand at attention at the ends of the rectangular containers the trucks are transporting. In the absence of light, they are the only indication of their existence.

Gadea, some three or four feet in front of Spider-Man, sees the trucks before he does. But he, a step behind and masked eyes trained not on the road ahead but at the skies above, spots the wingsuit man circling the perimeter first.

How he reacts to his identified target is lost on Gadea. She only has eyes for the trucks.

In half a breath, the entire radius of the gas station and the road appears to have descended into a vat of molasses. Time slows to a near halt, and in this almost trance-like state, Gadea has run the countless possibilities of what the contents of the truck could possibly be. Satisfied a greater percentage of the results coincide with just what she's after, her mind flips like a switch, sharpening her formerly disorganized focus to a fine point.

Going after the trucks is a choice with a high potential of both victory and fatality, the ever present voice of hesitation cries from the rooftops to all willing ears. Though this is a warning she heeds with less than a quarter of her concentration.

Impetuosity embeds itself in her prefrontal cortex and all of her actions henceforth are fueled by the powerful accelerant of frenzied rapacity.

As if all previous occurrences hold the importance of a grain of salt, Gadea, eyes trained on the departing trucks, jumps on the spot to resuscitate her boots. Once her second jump lands without the thud of the soles of shoes smacking against asphalt, she kicks a knee up until it's level with her thigh and prepares herself for the sudden thrust upward.

At the highest point of her parabolic arc through the wind is when she sees him. A black stain glowing green on the monochromatic backdrop of this witching hour, the bird man that swept her up into the heavens alongside Spider-Man on the night of the Debacle. It's a shock that causes her erstwhile smooth glide to falter.

Ergo, the base of her arched vault lands her away from her intended target. She comes tumbling headlong into the aluminum roofing of the truck's back with a tucked roll that would have sent her flying off the south end of the roof had the friction-grip finger pads of her gloves not stuck earnestly to the metallic surface.

Although the chaffed skin of her upper joints creak in protest at the new wave of aches that hold her body hostage, cold winds numb her bare epidermis adequately enough that she can recollect herself.

Pressing herself flat on her back against the roof, Gadea waits with bated breath for the truck's driver below to give an indication they are aware of a stowaway. When the coast remains clear, she maneuvers onto her stomach and crawls on knees and elbows north of the truck's crate.