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The big, bulky frame of the man detached from the shadows, going all but unnoticed by Mary Jane until he hit her. Hit her hard. The blow spun her around, strong and unthinkably quick.

Like a barrage of time dashing past Mary Jane’s senses, she felt herself hoisted high into the air. Arms behind her arms, hands latched behind her head in a full nelson. It happened so fast that Mary Jane couldn’t even begin to think of a counter to the move. Thick biceps squeezed her until she felt like her head would pop off; big hands pushed her head down, driving her chin into her chest. She’d have a bruise there later. MJ flexed, trying to break out of the hold, but one look at the massive shape of her attacker showed how futile that was.

She kicked a heel back at her attacker. The grip only tightened on her. He was hurrying to finish her off. Mary Jane folded her hands downwards, groping blindly through her clouding sense of space until she managed to find the hands locked behind her neck. She snagged the little finger out of its vise-like hold on her and then jerked it even harder. The bone broke. The man grunted out of the depths of his chest, the way a grizzly bear would huff.

Mary Jane kicked her feet forward, as far as she could, then swung them down forcefully. Her weight careened around, first pulling her attacker off-balance, then launching him over her shoulder. He bounced onto the gravel. Mary Jane didn’t take time to recover; she caught her breath while adopting a fighting stance, left foot forward, hands up and fisted.

The moon came out from the shade of clouds. Seeing red from the lack of air, the moonlight seemed a hellish glare on the body of her enemy. She only got a glimpse of his massive wrestler’s body before he rushed her, ducking in low for a tackle.

Mary Jane brought up her knee into his face just as he was about to hit. A good strike: something to break bones, break necks. The monster backed off, but he was only winding up to charge again.

This time MJ’s timing was off. Before she could put up a defense, he was on her, knocking her backwards into the darkness of the night. She fell to a lower level of the roof, losing her air in the impact—it went right out of her.

He fell with her and his powerful hands latched around her throat. Mary Jane twisted, jabbing her right knee into his ribs, then wrenching herself the other way, rolling out from under the slab of muscle and whirling onto her feet.

He came up to his full height too, his bigness seeming to blot out the moon, weaving shadows for him to wear. But Mary Jane’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She saw the twitching motions that were prelude to movement. He came in with a hard right that Mary Jane ducked under, though she felt the wind of its passage pulling at her hair. But he was still too damn fast for her. His left hand grabbed her under the armpit—whipped her over his head—gave her a powerful pitch through the air.

Mary Jane flew into the wall, the foundation of the upper level they’d just descended from. She twisted, catlike, in the air; managed to get her legs between herself and the hit. They bent, drinking down the harshness of the impact, and she kicked off the wall to come down rolling across the ground.

The man was already hurtling towards her, throwing himself down into a baseball slide. His heels slammed into Mary Jane’s chest, sending her back to knock into the wall with her whole shoulder. Her feet slid out from under her; his brought him back up to his full height.

Then he had her back in his strong grip, one hand clenched on her throat, the other managing to palm her entire thigh. He lifted her up into the air only to dash her to the ground.

She took the shock of the fall with her forearms, rebounded, swung her leg around to trip her enemy. He flung himself towards Mary Jane in his drop, but she shot out both palms, caught him by the chest, and launched him away.

As he scrambled to his feet, Mary Jane spun, her leg whipping out, foot extended to slam into the side of the giant’s head. It snapped to the side before ricocheting back into place. Mary Jane stepped in quick, catching him in the bell with a solid body blow. It lifted him up onto his heels and made him stumble until he smacked into the wall.

But he launched off it like a swimmer, rushing Mary Jane. She held her ground, lanced out with a left hook that bloodied his nose and a right cross that rattled his teeth, but the behemoth didn’t stop. He got Mary Jane, his arms cinched around her back, and carried her into the wall behind her. They hit so hard that Mary Jane tasted blood.

One of her arms was free; the other was pinned to her side by his hold on her. Her free elbow hacked down into her assailant’s skull. It made blood stream from his hurt nose, but he didn’t let go. His grip tightened. Mary Jane felt like she’d been under a car when the jack slipped—she saw less and less of the real world, more and more of exploding suns, shooting stars, wild colors that she knew would blend into permanent darkness.

With an open palm, she slapped the monster’s right ear. He bellowed. His grip gave a little, but held. Mary Jane worked her other arm free. Both hands now clapped his ears. He cried out and staggered back. More ear slaps. More. More.

MJ felt the muscles of his binding arms unclench and she pushed away from him with open palms on his chest, getting her knee up between them, pushing against him with her foot too. Finally, she slipped free. She came down on her ass and so did he, after he’d stumbled back a few steps.

Mary Jane fought up to her feet and swung a hard right cross, catching him in the jaw before he could get up. He fell onto his side, holding his head, and she kicked him in the ribs. He rolled like a barrel into the wall—grabbing at it—clawing himself up but not before Mary Jane rushed him, head down, and hit him with a tackle that speared him into the bricks. Slamming the wind out of him.

She jerked her head up, the back of it hitting him in the chin. His own head jerked back, slamming into the wall, and he let out a pained groan at the impact before smiling through bloody teeth.

“Okay, enough,” Eddie said. “I get it, you’re a badass.”

When she’d come back to him after the camping trip, Eddie’d seemed to understand that he’d been out of line. There was no smugness, no mocking. Not an apology, but she couldn’t have everything. This was the man who’d been indelicate enough to make a pass at her in the first place, after all.

Since, by unspoken consent, they’d agreed not to bring it up, Mary Jane had redirected her bitter rage. After all, some of it was towards Peter, and for all Eddie had done, he didn’t deserve to receive her dissatisfaction over that. So she’d only insisted that she needed to take the training up a notch. No more exercises, no more little wrestling matches. She needed to be sure she could defend herself in a life or death struggle.

Eddie had generously agreed to let her vent her rage on him.

“No, keep going,” Mary Jane protested. “I haven’t beaten you. I know you’ve got more in the tank.”

“Yeah, but I’m already out a finger,” Eddie assuaged her. “No need to keep going until one of us is in the emergency room.”

“Then you are taking it easy on me,” Mary Jane huffed disgruntledly.

“I don’t think your husband would appreciate it if I twisted your head off because you wanted me to go all-out.”

“I don’t think he would notice,” she hissed under her breath.

She didn’t know if Eddie managed to make out her words—the way he was looking at her seemed strangely probing, maybe even hopeful. But he tended to look at her with a kind of fascination at all times. She’d thought it was just the reaction any body like hers would get, from any man. But the way Eddie had spoken to her the other day… that wasn’t some idle fantasy he’d been indulging. It was more like back before her marriage, when she and Peter had finally…

Mary Jane clenched her teeth and shook herself free of that line of thinking. She’d come to Eddie to clear her head, not make it even more muddled.

“If you won’t fight me,” she said impulsively, “won’t really fight me, then maybe I should find someone who can!”

Her threat didn’t land on Eddie. He only smiled, as self-indulgent as when her body had been pressed up against his. “I can help you out there, Red. If you don’t mind a little field trip.”