Spider-Man clung to the glass exterior of a skyscraper with one hand, both feet planted firmly against the vertical wall.
From there, he looked down over New York at four in the afternoon. The sun was still blazing overhead, and late August had the city packed with traffic and motion. The ruins had long since been cleared away. There was no sign left that the Avengers and the Chitauri army had once fought here, as if the Battle of New York had never happened at all.
"That had also been the day Peter first officially went out in costume as Spider-Man. He had spent the invasion swinging through the city and pulling people to safety.
Nobody had seen it, that was all.
"Beautiful first day of school," Spider-Man muttered to himself as he swung along. "Met some new friends, sort of new friends anyway, found a club I can join, and..."
"I'm sure plenty of people already know about this morning's bank robbery in Queens! A gang armed with high-tech weapons not only damaged the bank's load-bearing structure, they nearly blew open the vault! Fortunately, the Avengers arrived in time and prevented an even greater disaster!"
J. Jonah Jameson's furious face suddenly took over the giant screen on the Daily Bugle building. Waving a newspaper in one hand, he roared, "But that is not the point! The point is that multiple witnesses have confirmed that the menace crawling around New York's streets, Spider-Man, was also at the scene! There is no doubt this was yet another crime planned by Spider-Man and his masked accomplices!"
"I cannot believe I actually counted seeing that Daily Bugle web maintenance job as part of a good day." Spider-Man rolled his eyes as he swung past the screen. "Maybe I should leave a few little surprises in the code. Something like, 'Hey Jonah, your hairline just retreated another half inch.'"
Swinging past Jonah's giant face, Peter held onto his web with one hand while scrolling through his phone with the other.
He did not want the job just for the money, although upgrading the suit definitely cost money. More importantly, Peter was developing a program that could monitor keywords across social media platforms in real time. Fires, robberies, murders, anything like that. The idea was to help him spot emergencies across New York faster, so Spider-Man could get there in time.
And if he got the job, he would also have a perfectly legitimate excuse to spend hours at a computer without Aunt May or Gwen nagging him about it.
As a bonus, the nine hundred dollars a month would be enough to make three new suits, or upgrade the gear he already had and give the lowlifes he dealt with a few extra surprises.
"Hey! Spider-Man! Over here!"
Spider-Man looked to the side, quickly put away his phone, and swung over.
The one calling to him was a little kid who could not have been older than four or five. Spider-Man landed beside him in a crouch, bringing himself down to eye level.
"Hey there, little guy. What's wrong?"
"My bike fell down there. Can you get it back for me?"
Next to them was an open-air section of the New York subway, and a little bike with training wheels was lying right on the tracks. If nobody did anything, it would be crushed within minutes.
So the little boy watched as Spider-Man hopped over the concrete barrier, which was taller than he was, and a moment later jumped back up with the bike and set it gently on the ground.
"There you go, kid. Just remember not to play around places like this... although how did the bike even get down there? That barrier's taller than the bike is."
"Somebody threw it down there," the child answered honestly. "He said you'd get it back for me."
Behind the mask, Spider-Man frowned.
"Who would do that? Do you remember what he looked like?"
"Dark skin, lots of little braids, carrying a bag..."
It was vague and not very useful, but a little kid was obviously not going to give him much more than that. So Spider-Man just reminded him to be careful and swung away, mentally filing the strange little incident aside.
"Even Carl wouldn't do something that lame. Wait, would he not? I'm actually not sure anymore. Oh. Hey, Uncle Ben?"
The sudden phone call cut off his train of thought.
Perched on the outer wall of a building, Peter glanced at the caller ID and answered.
"What is it, Uncle Ben?"
"Peter, can you..."
The shrill sound of police sirens in the background made Ben pause.
"Can you... pick up a cake for May? From that bakery we always use. If you're busy, I can drive over there myself..."
"No problem, I'm already nearby!" Peter answered immediately. "I'm already in the area. Just use May's name, right?"
After hanging up, he let out a laugh that sounded like he wasn't quite sure who he was mocking.
"Expecting New York to stay quiet really is wishful thinking. All right. Time for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to clock in."
The red figure leapt from the rooftop and dove after the police cars racing in the distance.
"The suspect is fleeing south on Third Avenue and has now turned onto Ninety-Fifth! Repeat, the target has turned onto Ninety-Fifth!"
George had set up a barricade with a group of officers at the intersection of Second Avenue and Ninety-Fifth Street. What had looked like overkill was quickly explained when a familiar blue energy blast shot out of the window of a red sedan, flipping the lead police car in an instant.
"The suspect has high-tech heavy firepower! Return fire!" George ordered at once.
The police fired back as best they could with their sidearms. The sedan seemed to shudder for a second, then a blue energy shield suddenly appeared and blocked every bullet. A moment later, a second police car was blasted into the air, and the officers instinctively scattered, diving for cover from the explosion.
"Aha!"
One masked robber leaned out the window, holding a rifle that looked far beyond anything normal. Thrilled out of his mind, he sprayed bursts of fire at the police cars. After blowing up two of them and basically clearing the road, he spotted the middle-aged cop giving orders and immediately aimed his way. He did not think he would need to aim much. The gun was strong enough to send the man to meet God regardless.
The blue blast fired and struck the police car George was using for cover.
As smoke billowed up, the robber burst into satisfied laughter.
Then he heard an unfamiliar voice.
"What exactly is so funny, buddy?"
At the last possible second, Spider-Man yanked George to safety with a webline, then shot through the smoke and spun a massive web between both sides of the street. The speeding sedan slammed headfirst into it. Its tires spun uselessly in the sticky webbing while the whole car got pinned in place.
A heavy thud followed as Spider-Man landed on the roof.
"Free convertible service!"
Peter punched through the roof, ripped the whole top off, and held it up while staring at the three terrified robbers inside and the bulging bag of jewelry next to them.
"Oh, looks like the customers aren't happy. Don't forget to leave a five-star review."
"Shoot him!"
Spider-Man flipped backward to dodge the energy fire, then tried to web up the muzzle, but it did not help. The blue blast punched straight through the web, and he had to twist aside to avoid it. A second later, a web shot from his right wrist and hooked the passenger-side door. The instant the door was ripped off, the gunman trying to open it stumbled out of the car, and his weapon was yanked away too.
Peter, meanwhile, took the unfamiliar high-tech gun in hand and examined it carefully. A few familiar components stood out right away. He had seen plenty of them over the past few months.
They were Chitauri parts.
"Wait, this power source... is this a rifle built out of modified Chitauri tech? It's only been a few months and somebody's already cracked it?"
The robber in the back seat had not gotten out yet, but the driver and the armed passenger already had. The driver was a typical bruiser, wearing a pair of glowing blue power gauntlets. The passenger, now that his gun was gone, came at him with an arm-mounted energy shield instead.
"You know, you guys really need better branding. This morning I fought a guy who named himself after his own weapon, the Shocker. You two need something catchier." Spider-Man strolled backward almost casually, dodging punches as he kept talking. "How about Boxer for you? And the guy in the back can be Shield Guy. Oh wait, no, bugle boy. You're definitely Bugle Boy now."
"Shut up!"
"Why does everybody always tell me to shut up?!"
When the shield-wearing robber charged him surrounded by blue light, Peter casually flipped over him and landed right back in front of Boxer, focusing on the incoming punches.
"Left hook, right hook... nice straight punch! Done yet?"
Boxer stared at his gauntlets in disbelief, apparently unable to understand why his boxing skills plus the powered gauntlets still were not landing a single hit.
The little spider nodded sympathetically.
"All right. My turn."
"Ahhh!"
With a perfectly classic scream, Boxer got punched clear off his feet and ended up plastered to the web blocking the street, unable to move.
The shield guy spun around in time to see it happen, but he also saw the man in the back seat hefting a rocket launcher and aiming it straight at Spider-Man.
And himself.
"No no no no no!"
"Turn your shield on!"
Bugle Boy slapped at the shield a couple of times, but the energy field was already drained. It flickered twice and died. Unfortunately for him, by then the rocket had already launched, and all he could do was scream in despair.
"It's dead!"
Peter turned his head, took one look, and confirmed that the rocket was absolutely going to hit the guy's teammate no matter what.
So he went with the simplest possible solution.
"And this is why you always carry a charger when you leave the house, kids."
Peter webbed the rocket, whipped it high into the air, then fired another web and detonated it overhead.
The blast lit up everybody on the street, leaving the guy with the rocket launcher staring in total disbelief.
As did Spider-Man's casual shrug.
"So... you guys still want to keep going?"
(End of Chapter)
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