New York had a talent for ruining recovery time.
Eve discovered this while trying to sleep on a couch that had clearly witnessed multiple crimes, emotional breakdowns, and at least one questionable chemical spill.
Nyx called it “acceptable resting infrastructure.”
Eve called it “a public health violation with cushions.”
She hadn’t slept much.
Spider-Man’s visit kept replaying in her head.
Not because he was frightening—he wasn’t, not in the way Oscorp mercenaries were—but because he had seen her clearly without immediately trying to kill or capture her.
That was new.
Uncomfortably new.
Nyx shifted beneath her skin.
“You are thinking again.”
“I can’t stop.”
“That is inefficient.”
“Welcome to being me.”
A pause.
“…You are frequently inefficient.”
“Thanks.”
Morning light filtered through cracked blinds, turning the apartment into a pale, fractured grid of dust and shadow.
Somewhere outside, sirens wailed.
Somewhere closer, a car alarm had been stuck for what sounded like several lifetimes.
Nyx listened briefly.
“Normal urban distress signals.”
“That’s not comforting either.”
Nyx, after a pause:
“It is consistent.”
Eve groaned and forced herself up.
Her body still felt “off” in the post-combat way—like her muscles were slightly misaligned with reality.
Symbiote regeneration had patched most of the damage from the anti-weapon encounter, but the sensation lingered like a ghost sensation under the skin.
She pulled on a hoodie and grabbed the stolen instant noodles from the counter.
Nyx immediately protested.
“Insufficient nutritional density.”
“We’re broke.”
“We could hunt.”
“NO.”
Nyx went quiet for a moment, then:
“…You are emotionally attached to moral constraints.”
“That’s called being a person.”
Nyx did not respond to that.
Which was usually a sign she was thinking too hard.
Eve didn’t like that.
She left the apartment anyway.
Outside, New York was in one of its “normal chaos” moods.
A street vendor argued with a customer about alien tax exemptions.
A man in a lab coat walked backward while speaking into a headset about “dimensionally unstable pigeons.”
Two people casually stepped over a crater without acknowledging it.
Eve stared at all of it.
“I miss Seattle,” she muttered.
Nyx responded instantly.
“You miss lower ambient danger levels.”
“That too.”
“You are adapting regardless.”
“Am I?”
“You have not died.”
“That feels like a low bar.”
Nyx did not disagree.
Eve wandered without direction for a while.
She needed food that wasn’t instant noodles, information that wasn’t conspiracy videos, and ideally, a break from existential collapse.
Which in New York meant:
good luck.
Eventually she ended up near a small café wedged between two taller buildings.
It looked normal in the way only slightly suspicious places in Marvel New York looked normal.
Clean windows.
Soft lighting.
A chalkboard sign outside that read:
“COFFEE + SURVIVAL (probably)”
Eve stared at it.
“…That’s either comforting or a trap.”
Nyx replied:
“Both are plausible.”
Still, she went in.
The café was quiet inside.
Too quiet for New York.
Soft music played in the background.
Warm lighting.
A few scattered customers pretending they weren’t involved in city-level chaos.
Eve immediately felt underdressed.
And underprepared.
And mildly surveilled by the universe.
A barista glanced up.
“Hey.
What can I get you?”
Eve blinked.
“…Coffee.”
“Bold choice.
We have many types of emotional support caffeine.”
Nyx immediately approved.
“I like this establishment.”
Eve ordered something cheap and sat near the window.
For five whole minutes, nothing exploded.
It felt suspicious.
Nyx broke the silence.
“You are calmer.”
“I’m waiting for the universe to punish me for it.”
“That is not statistically necessary.”
“It feels statistically necessary.”
The drink arrived.
Eve took a sip.
It was aggressively normal.
Which was almost more disturbing than anything else.
Then the door opened.
And the universe corrected itself.
Eve didn’t look up immediately.
She felt it first.
That subtle shift in emotional temperature.
Nyx reacted instantly.
“Presence detected.”
“Don’t start.”
“Not hostile.”
“That’s what you said about Spider-Man.”
“This is different.”
Eve finally looked up.
And froze.
Maya walked in like she owned the concept of casual existence.
Same hoodie.
Same rings.
Same tired-but-alive expression that somehow made everything around her feel slightly more real.
She paused when she saw Eve.
“…Oh,” Maya said.
Eve nearly dropped her cup.
“…Oh.”
Maya tilted her head slightly.
“You follow me now?”
“I am not following you!”
“That’s what someone following me would say.”
Nyx spoke internally:
“She returns.”
“I noticed.”
Maya walked up to the counter first, ordered something without looking at the menu, then turned back toward Eve.
“You look like you didn’t sleep.”
“That’s because I didn’t.”
“Relatable.”
She gestured slightly toward Eve’s table.
“Mind?”
Eve hesitated.
Nyx immediately:
“Accept proximity.”
“That is not how decisions work.”
“Accept.”
Eve sighed.
“…Sure.”
Maya sat down opposite her.
There was a short silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just full.
Maya studied her face for a moment.
“You’re worse today.”
“Thanks?”
“Not an insult.
Observation.”
Nyx commented:
“She evaluates accurately.”
“Stop complimenting her in my head.”
Maya leaned back slightly.
“So… symbiote girl.”
Eve flinched.
“I hate that nickname.”
“You have many nicknames.”
“None of them are good.”
Maya sipped her drink.
“I saw the footage from last night.”
Eve stiffened.
That was fast.
Too fast.
Nyx immediately became alert.
“She tracks us.”
“She probably just has internet access.”
“That is still tracking.”
Eve lowered her voice slightly.
“…What footage?”
Maya tilted her head.
“Spider-Man was seen talking to you.”
Eve nearly choked.
“…Excuse me?”
Maya raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t know?”
“No!”
Nyx sounded amused:
“He did not inform us.”
“That is not the issue!”
Maya watched her reaction carefully.
“Relax.
It’s not like he exposed you.”
“Not reassuring,” Eve muttered.
Maya leaned forward slightly.
“You’re getting attention from multiple directions now.”
“That sounds like a threat assessment.”
“It kind of is.”
Silence settled again.
Then Maya added, more casually:
“I’m not surprised though.”
Eve blinked.
“…Why would you not be surprised?”
Maya looked at her like the answer was obvious.
“Because you’re weird.”
Eve stared.
“That is not—”
“And,” Maya continued, “you’re not the kind of weird that stays hidden.”
Nyx processed that.
“…Accurate.”
Eve groaned internally.
“Please stop agreeing with people who analyze me.”
Maya tilted her cup slightly.
“So what’s your deal?
You some kind of lab accident?”
Eve hesitated.
That question again.
Spider-Man had asked it.
Now Maya too.
Different tone.
Same core danger.
Nyx spoke softly.
“We can disclose partial truth.”
Eve frowned slightly.
“…Partial?”
Nyx responded:
“Safety threshold.”
Eve exhaled.
“…Yeah.
Lab accident is… close enough.”
Maya didn’t press.
Instead, she nodded.
“Figures.”
That lack of pressure was almost worse.
Because it meant she was accepting incomplete truth as enough for now.
Eve didn’t know how to handle that.
Maya glanced down at Eve’s hands.
Then slightly at her neck.
“Still there?”
Eve touched her collar instinctively.
“…Yeah.”
Nyx responded quietly:
“We are here.”
Maya didn’t react negatively.
Instead:
“Does it hurt?”
That question again.
Eve hesitated.
“…Sometimes.”
Maya nodded once.
“Okay.”
No fear.
No disgust.
Just acknowledgment.
Eve felt something shift in her chest again.
Dangerously soft.
Nyx noticed immediately.
“Emotional resonance increasing.”
“Don’t analyze it.”
“I am required to monitor system stability.”
“I am not a system.”
“You are a shared system.”
“That sounds worse.”
Maya leaned back again.
“So… what do you do when you’re not being internet-famous?”
Eve laughed once.
It came out slightly broken.
“I’m currently employed by homelessness.”
“Ah.”
“And occasional monster situations.”
“Multitasking.”
Nyx added:
“We are efficient at violence.”
Eve sighed.
“Please stop branding us like that.”
Maya smirked slightly.
“You’re funny.”
Eve blinked.
“…I am?”
“Yeah.
In a ‘this is going to get me killed someday’ way.”
Nyx responded:
“She is accurate again.”
Eve covered her face.
“This is bullying.”
Maya’s gaze softened slightly.
Then she said something that shifted the tone entirely.
“You want to get lunch later?”
Eve froze.
“…What?”
Nyx froze too.
Then immediately:
“Explain intent.”
“I think she just asked me out for food,” Eve whispered internally.
“That is inefficient unless strategic.”
“That’s not how dating works.”
“I am not convinced.”
Maya tilted her head.
“You busy?”
Eve’s brain stopped functioning for a full two seconds.
Spider-Man.
Symbiotes.
Lab escape.
Oscorp-level trauma.
Rent she couldn’t pay.
And now—
“…Lunch?” she repeated.
Maya nodded.
“Yeah.
You look like you need something that isn’t instant noodles and existential dread.”
Nyx spoke instantly:
“Accept.”
“You are not helping.”
“Accept.”
Eve swallowed.
“…Okay.”
Maya nodded once like that was the most normal conclusion in the world.
“Cool.”
She stood up.
“I’ll text you.”
Eve blinked again.
“You don’t have my number.”
Maya looked down at her.
“I’ll find it.”
Nyx immediately:
“She is efficient.”
“That is not romantic information!”
Maya walked out without further ceremony.
Just like that.
Gone.
Eve sat in silence.
Then whispered:
“…Did I just get asked out by a mutant who casually violates privacy laws?”
Nyx responded:
“Yes.”
“That is terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“…But also kind of nice?”
Nyx paused.
Then:
“Yes.”
Eve buried her face in her hands.
“This city is going to kill me.”
Nyx responded gently, almost amused:
“Not before lunch.”