"All right. Let's run through it one more time."
In the New York afternoon, sunlight poured through the shattered skeletons of skyscrapers and spilled across the ruins below. The Department of Damage Control, backed by Stark Industries, was hard at work cleaning up the aftermath of the alien invasion. Heavy trucks rumbled through the wreckage, hauling Chitauri debris out of broken buildings.
An older street sweeper suddenly noticed a shadow fall over him. He looked up, adjusted his cap, and muttered, "What the hell...?"
A red-and-blue figure was gliding lightly through the skies above New York.
"My name is Peter Parker. A few months ago, at an Oscorp science expo, a radioactive spider bit me and changed my life. And now I'm the world's one and only Spider-Man. I mean, come on, in 2012 where would any other Spider-Men even come from?"
His suit was mostly red, with blue panels along both sides of his waist and down the lower half of his body. Thin black nylon lines formed raised webbing across the fabric. The black spider emblem on his chest looked sharp and menacing, standing in hilarious contrast to the round, chubby little spider symbol on his back. The narrow black lenses of his mask made him look alert, but there was also something a little fierce about them.
"And right now, I am your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"
At that moment, an angry voice blasted from an electronic screen on a nearby street corner, echoing through the ruins.
"Spider-Man is without question the biggest threat the Avengers should be paying attention to! This masked criminal has repeatedly appeared at uncleared alien battle sites. He is absolutely connected to the recent smuggling of alien weapons turning up at crime scenes across New York!"
"Enough already, Jonah! Give the conspiracy theories a rest!" Spider-Man flicked his wrist, and a strand of web shot out, neatly plastering itself over the host's mouth on the screen.
Unfortunately, the loudmouthed media boss kept going anyway.
"Without a doubt, this masked pest is the mastermind digging these weapons out of the rubble and selling them on the black market!"
"Why can't you praise me the way you praise Captain America? Just a little?" Spider-Man said with a helpless shrug. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm not as great as Cap, but you could still praise me in a slightly less dramatic way. Also, Daily Bugle Media? Seriously? Daily Bugle newspaper sounds way better. Now where were we?"
"Oh, right. You all know how the story goes from here. With great power comes great responsibility. Then you become the friendly neighborhood guy. Everybody knows that part, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. But Uncle Ben didn't die. If he had, that would be way too embarrassing for someone who got reborn into the Marvel Universe. Anyway, some things happened, I hesitated, and eventually I came clean"
"And the best Spider-Man ever!"
The moment he finished speaking, Spider-Man performed a flashy flip and landed smoothly beside a hot dog cart standing among the rubble. It served as a breakfast stop for Damage Control workers. He reached into his pants pocket, yes, this suit actually had pockets, pulled out a few crumpled bills, bought a hot dog, took a bite, and kept talking.
"And then your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man has another happy day in New York. Bust a few criminals, check if anyone's secretly stealing alien tech, listen to Jonah's blood-pressure-spiking news reports, blah blah blah, you know the drill."
"Sorry..." the hot dog vendor said, looking confused. "Were you talking to me?"
"Uh..." Spider-Man froze for a second. "Honestly, I don't even know. Maybe somebody's listening. You never know, right?"
To avoid the awkwardness, he flicked his wrist again and fired out another web. After tossing the vendor a quick wave, he let the tension in the line pull him into the air in one graceful swing.
"Anyway, I'm definitely the happiest Spider-Man there is."
"Because really, what other Spider-Man gets to peacefully finish an entire hot dog?"
But peaceful New York City had no intention of letting Spider-Man enjoy the rest of his lunch.
He landed on the glass exterior of a high-rise, pulled half his mask up, and kept chewing while watching the activity below. A van wobbled its way into the base of a badly damaged building. With his enhanced vision, Spider-Man could clearly see it had no Department of Damage Control markings.
And on top of that building, half of a Chitauri bioship was still lodged in the wreckage.
"Well, looks like even the happiest Spider-Man can't eat a whole hot dog in peace." Crunch.
He shoved the rest of it into his mouth, pulled his mask back down, and got moving. His web latched onto the edge of a skyscraper. He swung, released, tucked both arms tight to his sides, and shot through a shattered window in an effortlessly stylish dive, landing right in the middle of the smugglers.
The people inside didn't even react at first. They were all busy with their jobs: guarding the workers, watching the entrance, digging Chitauri corpses out of the debris, collecting their alien weapons, and piling everything onto a little handcart.
"Seriously? I mean, that's alien tech humanity still hasn't even figured out yet. Super cool stuff! And you're really just going to throw it all onto a handcart and stack it up?"
Spider-Man kept up the commentary while yanking away a guard's assault rifle with a web. Before anyone else could react, several men had already been bound in webbing, and the two guys watching the door were plastered straight onto the wall. He lightly dusted off his hands.
"I can guarantee none of you have a Damage Control salvage permit, gentlemen. So your weapons are officially confiscated. Wait, why is my spider-sense suddenly screaming?"
With a smooth backflip, Spider-Man dodged a blue energy blast. A second later, a wad of webbing splattered across the face of the worker holding a Chitauri weapon.
"Hey! Don't play around with alien tech! That stuff is dangerous!"
"Once I blast you into pieces, you won't be talking so much!"
"Spiders aren't insects, they're arthro..."
He twisted sideways to avoid a laser bolt that barely missed his head, then glanced around and realized the rest of the "cleanup crew" had all grabbed Chitauri weapons too.
"Okay, I was trying to finish that sentence. Also, since when do janitors have better gear than security guards?"
The crew immediately made the smartest choice they could.
"Fire! Keep firing!"
Blue beams shot at him one after another, but Spider-Man danced between them with webs and speed, dodging through the barrage without missing a beat. And of course, his mouth never stopped moving.
"Now where was I?"
Webs sprayed down from above, strong enough to slam armed thugs off their feet and pin them to the ground. A few of the cleaners dropped into desperate slides, diving behind chunks of broken concrete or fallen ceiling panels.
"Oh right, spiders aren't insects, they're arthropods. My God, is science education really this bad now? At your age, Come on, didn't you learn that in school? Is that why you're out here smuggling alien weapons? Bad grades? You know, you could've at least learned auto repair or something. I know a few mechanics. They're pretty good..."
The smugglers hiding behind cover listened in despair as the loud spandex freak kept rambling. Finally, one of them snapped, popped his head up, and shouted, "Will you shut up already?" before firing wildly.
The next instant, a web hit him square in the chest and yanked him flying through the air, right into a punch that slammed him against the wall.
"Ha! Just like a real hero, beating up a bunch of bad guys. Oh, sorry, only you came out."
The others wisely stayed hidden. One of the smugglers looked at his partner on the other side, who was clutching an alien rifle, and asked in despair, "When is he going to stop talking?"
"I don't know. I really regret not bringing headphones..."
"Maybe you should regret committing crimes, gentlemen."
A sudden, familiar voice echoed above them. A lean red-and-blue figure was hanging upside down from the ceiling. Their weapons were yanked away with strands of web, and before they could even stand up, they were all pinned to rocks and rubble.
"Okay, that should be everyone... Oh, is your van trying to get away?"
Then they watched the spider freak fire a thick white strand of web from his wrist and stick it to something outside. He grabbed the line with both hands and gave it a violent pull.
They could practically hear the van's engine scream in despair.
Then something flew.
The silver van lifted clean off the ground. Spider-Man flipped backward in perfect sync, landed before it did, caught the whole vehicle from underneath, and gently set it down.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Spider-Man walked up to the dumbfounded driver and tapped on the window.
"Reckless driving, sir. License and registration, please."
He webbed over a phone someone had dropped on the ground, dialed 911, opened the van door, and yanked the driver out.
"Hello, NYPD? I'd like to report an illegal smuggling operation. Talk to Customs? Wait, Customs handles alien weapon smuggling too? Uh... the location is... there are a lot of them, so maybe bring extra squad cars."
About ten minutes later, several police cars pulled up outside the ruined tower. The officers stepped out, pushed up their caps, and stared at the sight above them.
Dozens of people had been webbed around their arms and torsos and were hanging off the outside of the building.
The van and its entire load of alien weapons had also been cocooned in thick layers of webbing.
"Captain, this is the message the caller left behind."
A broad-shouldered, sharp-looking police captain took the note and read it aloud.
"The webbing will automatically dissolve in two hours. Please be prepared to receive delivery. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
"Captain, those guys..."
"Post someone here to watch them. In about two hours they'll drop. It's only a little over six feet. That won't kill anybody."
As he spoke, the captain lifted his radio and called for backup.
"This is George Stacy. We need more vehicles to transport suspects. Over."
George narrowed his eyes and looked at the note again.
"This handwriting... why does it look kind of familiar?"
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]/euridome]
[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[Thank You For Your Support!]