Spider-Man, fully suited up, clung one-handed to the glass exterior of a skyscraper, his feet planted firmly against the vertical wall. He looked down over New York at four in the afternoon—the blazing sun still hung high, and the city bustled with traffic in late August. The ruins had long since been cleared away, leaving no trace of the battle between the Avengers and the Chitauri army, as though the Battle of New York had never happened.
That had also been the first day Spider-Man of this universe had officially donned his suit and gone into action. Little Spider had swung through alien-infested New York, saving people left and right. It was just that no one had seen him.
"Such a wonderful first day of school," Spider-Man muttered to himself as he swung through the air. "I met new friends—well, sort of new friends—found a club I can join, and—"
"Many of you have likely heard about the bank robbery in Queens this morning. A group of robbers equipped with high-tech weapons not only damaged the bank's load-bearing structure, but nearly blew open the vault! Fortunately, the Avengers arrived in time and prevented an even greater disaster."
J. Jonah Jameson's furious face, uncannily resembling Omni-Man, suddenly filled the giant screen on the Daily Bugle building. Waving a newspaper, he roared, "—But that isn't the point! The point is that multiple witnesses have confirmed that Spider-Man, that pest crawling around New York's streets, was also at the scene! Without a doubt, this was another crime orchestrated by Spider-Man and his masked accomplices!"
"I can't believe I counted getting a part-time job maintaining the Daily Bugle website as part of a wonderful day..." Spider-Man rolled his eyes as he swung past the screen. "Maybe I should leave a little 'surprise' in the code. Something like, 'Hey, Jonah, your hairline retreated another centimeter.'"
Swinging past J. Jonah Jameson's enormous face, Peter held onto a web with one hand while scrolling through his phone with the other. He wanted this part-time job for more than just the money—though upgrading his suit did require funding. More importantly, Peter was developing a program that could monitor keywords on social platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube in real time—words like fire, robbery, or murder—so he could spot emergencies across New York more quickly and let Spider-Man reach the scene in time.
And with this job, he could spend long stretches in front of a computer without having to worry about Aunt May or Gwen nagging him.
Besides, the nine hundred dollars a month was enough to make three new suits, or upgrade his existing gear and give the punks he dealt with a little surprise.
"Hey! Spider-Man! Over here!"
Spider-Man, who had been looking at his phone, turned toward the voice, quickly put it away, and swung over. The one calling him was a child who looked no older than four or five. Spider-Man landed beside him, crouched down, and spoke at eye level.
"Hey, little guy. What's wrong?"
"My bike fell down there. Can you help me get it back?"
Beside them was an open-air section of the New York subway. A child's bicycle with training wheels lay right on the tracks. If no one did anything, it would be crushed by a train within minutes.
So the little boy watched Spider-Man leap over a concrete barrier taller than he was. Moments later, he jumped back up with the bicycle and set it on the ground. "There you go, kid. Remember not to play around places like this... But how did your bike even fall down there? That barrier's taller than the bike."
"Someone threw it down," the child answered honestly. "He said you'd help me get it back."
Spider-Man's brows furrowed beneath his mask. "Who would do something like that? Do you remember what he looked like?"
"Dark skin, lots of little braids in his hair, carrying a backpack..."
It was vague and gave him nothing to go on, but a child obviously could not provide any more details. He could only give him a few safety reminders before leaving, though he kept the strange incident in mind.
"Even Carl wouldn't do something that tasteless. Wait, would Carl do it? I'm not so sure anymore. But he isn't Black, at least. Oh! Hello? Uncle Ben?"
The sudden call interrupted his thoughts. Peter crouched on the outer wall of a building, glanced at the caller ID, and answered. "What is it, Uncle Ben?"
"Peter, can you..."
The piercing police sirens in the background made Benjamin Parker pause. "Can you... pick up a cake for May? From that Meteno Cake Shop we always go to. If you're busy, I can drive over there myself—"
"No problem, it's right on my way!" Peter answered quickly. "It's right on my way. I just give them Aunt May's name, right?"
After hanging up, he gave a soft laugh, though it was unclear who he was mocking. "Hoping New York will stay peaceful really is wishful thinking. All right, time for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to make an appearance!"
The red figure leaped from high above, chasing after the police cars speeding in the distance.
"The suspect is fleeing south along Third Avenue and has now turned onto 95th Street! Repeat, the target has turned onto 95th Street!"
Captain George Stacy led the police force in setting up a roadblock at the intersection of Second Avenue and 95th Street. What seemed like an excessive response was quickly explained—a familiar blue energy beam shot from the window of a red sedan, instantly blowing over the first police car in its path.
"The suspect has high-tech heavy firepower! Return fire!" Captain Stacy ordered decisively.
The officers fired their handguns as best they could in response. The sedan seemed to sway, but a blue energy shield suddenly appeared and blocked every bullet. Then a second police car was blasted into the air by an energy beam. The officers instinctively scattered from the explosion and searched for cover.
"Aha!" A masked robber leaned out of the car window, aiming a gun that looked far beyond ordinary technology at the police cars with feverish excitement. After blowing up two police cars in succession and essentially clearing the road, he spotted the middle-aged officer giving orders and immediately aimed at him. He believed he barely needed to aim; the gun's power alone would be enough to send the man to meet God.
The blue beam streaked toward him and hit the police car Captain Stacy had been using as cover. Smoke rose, and the robber burst into delighted laughter—until he heard an unfamiliar voice.
"What's so funny, buddy?"
At the critical moment, Spider-Man yanked Captain Stacy into safety with a web line. He himself passed through the smoke and spun a giant web across both sides of the street. The speeding sedan crashed straight into it, its tires spinning futilely in the sticky webbing as the entire car became firmly stuck.
With a muffled thud, Spider-Man landed on the roof.
"Free convertible service!" Peter punched through the roof, then ripped the entire top off. Holding it overhead, he looked at the three terrified robbers and the bulging bags of jewelry inside. "Oh, looks like the customers aren't happy? Remember to leave a five-star review."
"Shoot him!"
Spider-Man backflipped out of the energy gun's line of fire, trying to seal the muzzle with webbing, but it did no good—the blue beam pierced through the web and he twisted aside to avoid it. Then webbing shot from his right wrist and hooked the front passenger door. The instant the web tore the door away, the armed robber who had been about to open it stumbled out, and his weapon was pulled away too.
Peter picked up the high-tech weapon, unlike anything he had ever seen before, and examined it carefully. He spotted several familiar components—Chitauri technology he had encountered many times over the past few months.
"Wait, this energy source... Is this a rifle modified with Chitauri tech? Someone cracked it in just a few months?"
The robber in the back seat had yet to get out, but the armed passenger and the driver had both climbed out. The driver was a stereotypical brute, wearing a pair of power gauntlets glowing blue. After losing his gun, the passenger pulled out an energy shield embedded in his arm.
"You know, you guys really aren't very distinctive. I dealt with a guy this morning who named himself Scarecrow after his weapon. You should get some flashy nicknames too." Spider-Man walked backward with casual ease as he dodged punches, unable to resist teasing them. "How about 'Boxer'? And the guy behind you can be 'Shield Man'? Oh, now I should call you 'Bugle'!"
"Shut up!"
"Why does someone tell me to shut up every time?!"
When the shield-wielding robber charged at him wrapped in blue light, Peter easily flipped over him and returned to Boxer, focusing on dodging. "Left hook, right hook... Nice straight punch! Are you done?"
Boxer stared at his gauntlets in disbelief, apparently wondering why he had failed to land even one hit despite his boxing skills and power gauntlets.
Little Spider nodded understandingly.
"Then it's my turn."
"Ah—!"
Accompanied by a classic Wilhelm scream, Boxer was sent flying by one punch and stuck helplessly to the web blocking the road. The shield robber turned around and saw it, but he also saw the guy in the back seat shouldering a rocket launcher and aiming at Spider-Man—and himself, directly in the same line.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
"Turn on your shield!"
Bugle pressed his shield twice, but its energy barrier seemed to have run out of power. It flickered twice before dying out. Unfortunately for him, the rocket launcher had already fired, leaving him with nothing to do but scream in despair.
"It's out of power!"
Peter even turned his head to look back several times. Once he confirmed that the rocket would inevitably hit the robber's teammate, he chose the simplest and most straightforward way to solve the problem.
"This teaches us to remember a power bank when we go out, kids."
Peter wrapped the rocket in webbing and flung it directly into the sky, then shot a web at it and detonated it in midair. The flames from the explosion illuminated everyone present, leaving the rocket-launcher wielder dumbfounded.
Along with Spider-Man's casual shrug.
"Guys, do you still want to keep going?"
Before you continue