章 18: 18. Web-Entering.
Everything hinted at a perfect day. People strolled the streets with easy smiles, the weather was bright, and the sidewalks practically sparkled. Everything was just right. Well, almost…
*RIIIIING*
"Typical low-life thugs!" came a grizzled voice just as the bank door nearly flew off its hinges. Two men kicked it open and burst out, hauling bags of cash. The shout probably belonged to one of the guards, trailing after the robbers with a mix of rage and resignation.
So, there it was. The one little snag: a bank robbery. Smack in the middle of the day.
The two men wore clown masks—big, garish, painted grins stretched across rubbery faces. Both had on dark jackets, but one of them had gone a step further. He'd somehow managed to stick a pair of glasses on top of the clown mask, transforming himself into a scholarly-looking buffoon.
The duo sprinted toward their getaway car—a shiny red convertible parked just outside. They barely broke stride, hurling the bags into the back seat before diving in themselves. The driver punched the ignition, and they were off, burning rubber and cutting through the street with zero consideration for traffic laws. Glasses Clown leaned over, pumping a fist. "Floor it, bro!" he cackled.
"Right on!" The driver grinned, hammering the gas pedal, plowing into parked cars with wild abandon. Metal screeched, bumpers scattered, and the convertible's own bumper hung on by a thread, but they were too busy laughing to notice. Not their car, not their problem.
Cars scattered as they tore down the road, making their way to freedom. No sirens. No helicopters. They were in the clear. For now.
"Bwahahaha! Keep it up, man!" shouted Glasses Clown, clutching the seat as they swerved around a minivan. "This is how we roll!"
"Heck yeah!"
A beat passed. Then Glasses Clown turned, his grin obvious under the mask. "Hey, you know what they call cheese in Paris?"
The driver glanced over, eyebrows raised. "What? What do they call it?"
"La fromage!" Glasses Clown crowed, sounding like he'd just discovered the secret to life itself.
"La fromage? Man~, like, those French guys have a whole other language!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
And while these two clowns were philosophizing with all the depth of a kiddie pool, fate had a surprise in store. Out of nowhere, something heavy landed in the back seat, right next to their precious loot. The car jerked from the sudden weight, nearly stalling.
"Umph…" Both men bounced in their seats, looking bewildered. The driver squinted forward, scratching his head. "We must've run over someone."
"Don't worry, bro," said Glasses Clown, waving it off, "whoever we ran over, their insurance'll cover it. Trust me."
The driver shrugged, nodding. "I believe you, bro! Heck yeah!"
They didn't even glance back at their haul, too busy celebrating their "flawless" victory. Clueless and cocky, they whooped and high-fived, convinced they were in the clear.
But they had one last problem.
"Are you seriously gonna make me tap on your shoulders?" came a deep voice from the back seat.
Glasses Clown froze mid-laugh. "Huh?" He spun around so fast his neck made a cracking noise. "You!"
Yep, they should've checked the back seat a little sooner. There, sitting comfortably on their loot with his arms crossed, was a tall, solid figure in a striking red-and-gold suit. Almost seven feet of muscle and menace, with a broad chest that looked like armor. A massive, gold spider symbol gleamed on his chest, and golden lines curled from his eyes on the mask like tiny horns.
***
My name is Peter G. Parker.
And for almost three months now, I've been a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Bitten by a spider and given the powers of that same spider.
A special spider, because no spider can bite you and give you superpowers. If there's anything a normal spider can give you, it's poison and complications that will send you to the hospital.
So, why was this spider special, besides giving me powers? Well, it's the powers themselves. Super strength, incredible speed, flexibility, spider sense, which is what I call it, so I can sense danger. There's another ability I didn't expect in a spider. I can sense a presence around me, literally. The radius of this ability is thirty meters, and all living things within that radius, I know their location, and where they are moving. Not that you can see them through walls, but rather...like sonar. I call this ability 'Spider Sonar'. Maybe the species of spider that bit me had it. I tried to find out about the spider that bit me, but after all this time, I never found it. I'll have to go back to the lab.
Hmm, why haven't I done that before? Ahem... well, at first I thought I was going to die. I waited for the bad symptoms to show up and prepared to die. But I didn't wait for that, then there was college, then Mary Jane, then heroism, etc. There are many reasons there....
However, let's get back to the powers. The strangest one. Size enhancement. Like...wtf???? I understand about the special feelings of danger in spiders, but to increase in size, in which strength and speed are similarly increased?! I already have to hold back, gigantism just makes it worse. But...it's a very useful ability. Very useful, for me, hiding my identity. I'm 5'9" myself, but when I put on a suit, I instantly increase my height to 6'8... It's great for drawing attention away from my personality. I can go up to 9 feet... Torn shirt and underwear will prove it. Good thing no one was there that night. And thanks to my spider web for helping me get to my apartment.....
Ah, yes, the web. Spiders' most important ability. And luckily for me, I didn't isolate it from my ass, but their wrists. In the early days, when I was panicking more than ever, my paranoid thoughts led me to expect that I would grow a belly, and in fact I would become some kind of mutant with spider parts...I thought it was the end. Heh, but I won the lottery and when I opened the pandora's box, I won.
But I will visit the lab. I will.
Until then, being a hero is cool. It's dangerous, but it's fun. And there's nothing better than seeing the smiles on the faces of the people you save. I swear, seeing the joy of a family reunited because of you is the ultimate pleasure.
Well, there you go. I didn't really know what to do with my powers until he said this.
" Be the one they need, be the one who they can depend on. Fight, defend, inspire. If you have power, use them for the good cause. Make your decisions and listen to your heart. You don't have to be 'Super' to be Hero for someone. Just make right choises."
And those were just part of the words his idol had said, but they were the ones that stuck with him. Those words—and...alright, enough reminiscing.
Since I started, I've met some incredible people: new friends, fellow heroes, even the agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. And yeah, I've run into a fair share of enemies I'd rather not think about right now. Then, of course, there are the everyday criminals.
Like these two clowns who decided to rob a bank in broad daylight. They slammed into a few parked cars without a second thought, then sped off. Clown masks on, one of them with glasses over the mask. Really? Thieves are getting worse by the week. Getting dumber too. I landed right in their back seat, and they were totally oblivious.
They thought they'd just run somebody over.
Honestly, if I hadn't spoken up, I don't think they'd ever have noticed. I just need to stop these guys, then get home and avoid giving J. Jonah Jameson more fuel to plaster my face across Times Square.
I told them to look behind. The guy with the glasses finally turned, and the recognition hit him. "You!"
"It's really me!" And I slapped a web straight onto his mask, making him recoil and let out a yelp. The driver glanced over, wide-eyed. "Bro?!"
Luckily, we were on an empty street, but I still needed to stop this car before some unsuspecting civilian wandered in front of it. Wasting no time, I fired a web at a nearby building, yanked myself into the air, and swung forward with practiced ease. The mask helped me cut through the wind—I invested a lot in it, so it better work.
I was moving fast, flinging another web onto the next building and propelling myself forward. I could stop the car with a single hand, but that would destroy the thing, and it wasn't even theirs. Besides, that would just give J.J.J. a fresh headline about the "Menace of New York" wrecking cars.
What I needed was a soft stop. Something to absorb the impact, like a gate.
...
Actually...That's a good idea.
The car is the ball. And the ball has to go in the goal. And the goal has to be created. Easy-peasy.
Time to get ahead of this car and make the save.
~
Spider-Man clung to his web, body streamlined and accelerating smoothly. With practiced finesse, he glided through the air, aiming for a perfect landing in front of the speeding car. His eyes locked onto the vehicle barreling toward him, where two clowns were fumbling to clear sticky webbing from their faces. The driver, too distracted by his panicking partner, barely watched the road.
Perfect. Plenty of time.
With a swift flick of his wrist, Spider-Man shot a web line to the right, then repeated the motion to the left, weaving back and forth with precision. Each rapid movement layered the strands, thickening the net, turning the street into his own sticky trap.
The car hurtled closer, and Spider-Man could sense the crowd gathering. His "spider sonar" buzzed with their presence, watching with bated breath.
The web was set.
So were the clowns.
**CRASH**
The car slammed into the webbing, jerking to a dead stop as the front end buried itself in layers of sticky strands. Finally, police sirens echoed through the streets. Spider-Man leapt high, landing on a nearby lamppost, his eyes fixed on the trapped criminals. He dropped down, webbing them up tight so they couldn't even wiggle.
He knew the officers would handle the rest—they'd gotten good at prying criminals out of his webs.
With the clowns secured, Spider-Man stood tall, cameras flashing all around him. He raised two fingers in a casual salute, a nod to the crowd. Unlike his idol, he wasn't big on showboating for the cameras, but hey, just this once.
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