First Battle with the Scarecrow

Rewind the clock a bit. Herman Schultz, leading his lackeys and wielding the "Shocker" he'd built, pulled on the robbers' iconic black mask, ready to knock over a bank.

After all, the Chitauri ruins had been cleaned up—nothing left to dig out. And once they'd gotten a taste for easy money, they couldn't stomach honest work anymore. Especially now that they had a new ace in the hole—the "Shocker" emitter, capable of cracking any vault.

They picked a time no one else would choose—early morning, before the bank opened. First, because it was unexpected; who'd think to rob a bank when it wasn't even open? Second, because Herman didn't want to kill anyone. This way, no employees would be inside.

And third: the "Shocker" was strong enough to blast through the bank's doors and vault, even with no staff around to let them in.

"Like I said—this is the ultimate lockpick." Herman, mask on, led the charge, blasting the bank doors open and storming inside. "Boys, find the vault!"

"How hard can it be?" One lackey cranked his Shocker to second gear, sweeping it across the bank interior. "Whatever doesn't blow apart—that's the vault!"

A chorus of "Great idea!" rang out as they got to work. They had no idea that, while they were trashing the place, something had crawled in through the shattered door, clinging to the ceiling, watching them in silence.

"The moment I stepped in, my Spider-Sense started screaming. What is that thing? Doesn't look like Chitauri tech—more like some weird gadget bought off the street?"

Spider-Man watched a thug aim his weapon at the counter. One blast, and it exploded into splinters.

"Sonic... no, shockwave weapon? I wish real life had colorful shockwaves—would make dodging way easier."

Muttering to himself, Spider-Man shot a web, snatching a Shocker emitter. "Hey, fellas—didn't you know the bank doesn't open till nine? Try an ATM!"

"It's him!" One of the Shocker Gang lackeys recognized him. "That bug who's been pounding people! Light him up!"

"'Pounding people'? I prefer 'friendly neighborhood'!"

Spider-Man stuck a web to the ground near the speaker's feet, using its tension to launch himself forward. Before the guy could pull the trigger, he kicked him flying, then webbed another thug's Shocker barrel downward. The second-gear blast sent the guy rocketing into the ceiling, then crashing down—out cold.

"Whoa, sorry—didn't expect that. Guess ATMs aren't your style either. Why's my Spider-Sense screaming so loud?! Behind me!"

A backflip and a rapid volley of webs—Spider-Man's first clash with Herman began. Herman handled the Shocker emitter far more skillfully than his men. Every web fired was shredded by invisible shockwaves, leaving only Spider-Man himself barely dodging.

"Part of me hopes you'll tell me where you bought these—but I'm guessing you'd rather explain yourselves to the cops, right?"

Bouncing across the bank floor, Spider-Man relied on his Spider-Sense to weave through the unseen blasts. He couldn't close the distance, couldn't land a web—time to think of something else.

"Bought?! I made it! My creation!" Herman roared, ripping off his mask, venting a fury Spider-Man couldn't fathom. He cranked the Shocker to its safety-capped third gear—enough to slice through a vault door—and aimed at Spider-Man.

"Hey, wait! Don't get mad! What did I say that ticked you off?"

Hanging upside-down from the ceiling, Spider-Man broke into a sprint, glancing back at the hole punched through the roof. This was bad. He snagged the bank counter with a web, yanking it free and hurling it.

Herman kept firing as the counter flew at him, but the shockwave only shredded the desk. By then, Spider-Man had vanished into a blizzard of scattered office papers.

Where was he?

"Right here!"

Grabbing Herman's shoulder from behind, Spider-Man slammed a fist into his face, sending him reeling to the ground. The Shocker emitter clattered beside him.

"Buddy, if you really designed this thing, you're practically an engineer. Why not get a real job?"

Peter cheerfully webbed the Shocker emitter to his hand, fiddling with it curiously. He dialed it to the lowest setting and tested it on the remains of the counter—weak, didn't even blow the whole thing apart.

"Jeez, what power were you guys using... The outer walls are crumbling. The whole building's load-bearing structure is shot. Keep this up, and the place collapses."

Herman was still dazed from the punch, but those words snapped him awake.

"What? Structural damage? That's impossible—I didn't set it that high... The Shocker emitter shouldn't have that much power!"

That's when Peter Parker realized the problem.

"You call this thing 'Shocker'?! Well, that's one shocking surprise."

Another thug, just pummeled, staggered up, grabbed a Shocker gun, and cranked it to max—third gear—aiming at Spider-Man. Thanks to his Spider-Sense, Peter dodged in the nick of time, but the concentrated shockwave carved a clean gash through the bank's wall—not just one wall, but straight through the entire building. Sunlight poured in.

"Damn! I've got to stop them!"

Realizing the whole building was about to come down, Peter made a snap decision. He weaved and dodged, firing webs. His Spider-Sense let him slip past the focused blast by a hair, and the web yanked the guy's hand off the trigger.

Then Peter snatched the weapon, grabbed the Shocker emitter, and snapped it in half with a single twist. No more worries about that one.

Herman finally understood—the Shocker emitter was far more dangerous and powerful than he'd imagined. The high-power shockwaves lost far less energy after hitting solid objects than he'd calculated, leaving them devastating even after breaking through.

"Stop!" Herman shouted as another comrade raised a weapon. "Keep this up, and the whole building collapses!"

But the groggy thug seemed deaf to Herman's plea. He twisted the dial to max—not third gear, but somehow, the safety had failed, and it went to fifth.

Herman's jaw dropped. "Frank, ditch that thing! The recoil will kill you!"

The lackey named Frank gave the Shocker a confused look, then pulled the trigger.

Just the pull sent him spinning, nearly airborne. "Nearly" because, at the last second, Spider-Man kicked him away. But the trigger was already locked, and the blast slammed into Spider-Man as he charged in.

The massive shockwave hit the ground, erupting and knocking out the entire Shocker Gang—Herman included—in an instant. Spider-Man, still clutching the Shocker emitter, was hurled skyward by the recoil. The force punched through the bank's ceiling, then through a dozen more floors, finally embedding him in a ceiling somewhere up above.

"Ah, my back, my back..."

Peter pried himself off the ceiling, rubbing his aching spine. It hurt like hell, but he was okay. His superhuman body had taken the hit—bruises, sure, but with his decent healing factor, they'd fade in a few hours.

"So this is what an MCU-style 'Shocker' looks like... kind of underwhelming, honestly."

Peeling himself off the ceiling, Spider-Man dropped back down to the bank's first floor with a superhero landing. All the Shocker Gang members were still out cold on the collapsed floor. Spider-Man glanced at the nearly shattered ground, webbed up the crooks as usual, sealed their weapons with webbing, and swung out the door.

Then, with some creative web-work, he spelled out several warnings about the building's critical state and set up barricades and evacuation markers at the intersection.

The web fluid would only hold for two hours. If the NYPD and Damage Control couldn't figure out how to stabilize the building by then, they'd be in trouble.

Even if they could, with the load-bearing structure compromised, the whole building was undeniably a condemned death trap.

"Hey, Uncle Ben, Gwen!"

From the moment Spider-Man had woven that massive web, they hadn't entered the subway station. They were just hiding near the entrance, making it easy for Peter to find them.

"I found a route that goes along the way, and it doesn't look congested yet."

Peter rushed over with his backpack, calling out to the two of them, then patted Uncle Ben's car. "Lucky for us, Uncle Ben, your car's fine."

"Who's this guy?"

Gwen, who'd been in London for two months, pointed at the web hanging across the street. She had no idea New York had spawned some web freak. Peter stammered for a moment before explaining, "There's this guy calling himself Spider-Man who's been fighting crime lately. You know, superpower types and stuff."

"Oh, his taste isn't great, then."

Gwen said as she opened the door, and Peter shot back half-jokingly, "You mean his suit?"

"No, I mean his shoes. They're the same as yours."