Spider-Man & Witchblade - Issue 1: MJ the Witchblade

I swung through the steel-and-glass canyons of New York, the familiar thwip-thwip of my webs a comforting rhythm in the chaos. Below, a hijacked armored car was spilling loot like a piñata at a very aggressive birthday party. Rhino was, once again, making a mess of midtown traffic.

“Hey, horn-head!” I yelled, landing lightly on the roof of a taxi. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you it’s rude to take things that aren’t yours?”

He grunted, turning his massive, armored form toward me. “Spider-Man! I will pulp you into paste!”

“Pulp? That’s a little harsh. How about a nice purée?” I quipped, dodging a swipe of his fist that left a crater in the asphalt. The banter is as much for me as it is for them. It keeps the nerves—and the Parker Luck—at bay.

The fight didn’t last long. A well-placed web to the face, a trip-line at his ankles, and a swift, sticky cocoon to a streetlight later, and Rhino was trussed up like a holiday turkey, bellowing impotent threats.

“See ya at the next family reunion, Uncle Ben!” I saluted, swinging away as the police sirens wailed closer. Just another day in the life.

My mind was already home. It had been ever since that first day, back when I was a fifteen-year-old dork with glasses and a serious case of social anxiety, bitten by a radioactive spider on a class trip. The powers were awesome, sure. The responsibility? That took some getting used to. But the best thing that ever happened to me, the real miracle, came later.

Her name was Mary Jane Watson. A flame-haired goddess who lived next door. I’d had a crush on her from the moment I saw her, all confidence and sparkling laughter. Our first real date was a disaster—I was late, courtesy of a run-in with the Shocker—but she just smiled, her emerald eyes seeing right through my pathetic excuses.

“It’s okay, Tiger,” she’d said, using the nickname that still makes my heart skip a beat. “I know you had… responsibilities.”

Turned out, she’d known I was Spider-Man since she was fifteen, watching me swing past her window. She never said a word. She just… waited for me to be ready. She supported me through everything—the losses, the battles, the constant danger. And I supported her dream, watching her become a brilliant, sought-after actress, her name in lights on Broadway.

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