Forest Hills, QueensOctober 14, 2012
The Queens Metropolitan Savings Bank had been robbed six times in the previous three years.
Peter knew this because once he'd started patrols, he'd also started building spreadsheets.
This is the least cool thing Spider-Man has ever done.
But it worked.
Crime patterns existed.
Repeat offenders.
Preferred locations.
Time windows.
Neighborhood migration.
Peter tracked all of it on a color-coded map hidden inside a fake chemistry folder labeled:
THERMODYNAMIC EQUILIBRIUM NOTES
Which meant nobody at Midtown would ever voluntarily open it.
The bank ranked unusually high in repeat incidents.
Corner access.
Slow police response times.
Older security infrastructure.
And one particularly unfortunate ATM placement that created multiple blind spots.
Peter had marked it:
HIGH PROBABILITY TARGET
The seventh robbery happened on a Tuesday morning at exactly 9:47 A.M.
Peter was in Advanced Chemistry when his Spider-Sense detonated inside his skull.
His pencil snapped clean through the paper.
[THOUGHT BUBBLE]
Tiny chibi Peter sits in chemistry class while blue warning waves explode around his head.
CHIBI PETER:
SOMETHING BAD IS HAPPENING.
ALSO I HAVE A QUIZ IN TWENTY MINUTES.
THIS DAY SUCKS.
Mr. Harrington continued writing equations on the board completely unaware that one of his students was currently experiencing what felt like an incoming missile warning.
Peter raised his hand immediately.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
Mr. Harrington turned slowly.
"You went fifteen minutes ago."
Peter's Spider-Sense screamed louder.
"It's urgent."
Mr. Harrington narrowed his eyes.
Peter did his best approximation of:
innocent teenager experiencing catastrophic digestive consequences.
"...Fine," Harrington sighed. "Take the pass."
Peter grabbed the bathroom pass.
Walked calmly out of class.
Turned the corner.
Then sprinted.
MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGYBOYS' BATHROOMTHIRTY SECONDS LATER
Peter shoved the window upward.
Cold October air hit him instantly.
He climbed halfway through—
—and paused.
"...This is absolutely how supervillains start."
Then he jumped.
Queens blurred around him.
Three rooftops.
Two alley swings.
One terrifying near-collision with a delivery drone.
Peter moved fast.
Faster than he'd ever moved during patrols.
His Spider-Sense pulled him forward like an invisible string.
By the time he reached the bank, ninety seconds had passed.
Peter landed silently on a fire escape across the street.
Crouched low.
Observed.
Breathed.
Okay.
Assessment first.
Two suspects.
One near the entrance.
One deeper inside near the teller counter.
Three civilians on the floor.
Two bank tellers.
No visible fatalities.
One arriving police cruiser approximately half a block south.
Too far.
Too slow.
Peter focused harder.
And then he saw it.
The gauntlet.
Metallic.
Bulky.
Alien circuitry glowing faintly blue beneath welded steel plating.
Peter's stomach tightened instantly.
Chitauri tech.
The guy near the counter raised the weapon slightly.
Energy hummed through the device.
Peter swallowed.
"...Okay that's new."
His Spider-Sense pulsed again.
Danger.
Real danger.
Not purse-snatching.
Not bicycle theft.
Actual lethal weaponry.
Peter looked down at himself.
School khakis.
Midtown science polo.
Gray hoodie.
Gloves.
Ski goggles.
He looked like a fourteen-year-old trying to rob a snowboarding competition.
"...I really need a suit."
Below him, one of the robbers shouted at the tellers.
Peter inhaled sharply.
No more thinking.
Action.
He fired a web-line at the side ventilation window.
THWIP.
The window cracked open wider.
Peter launched himself forward.
Not through the front glass because he wasn't insane.
Through the ventilation opening above the east side counter.
Headfirst.
He caught himself against the ceiling automatically.
And suddenly—
Everyone inside the bank froze.
The robber near the door looked upward slowly.
Saw:
hoodie,
goggles,
upside-down teenager hanging from the ceiling.
There was a very long silence.
Then the robber said a word unsuitable for family publication.
Peter waved awkwardly.
"...Hi."
The civilians stared.
The teller stared.
The armed robber stared.
Peter realized he had not prepared literally anything resembling heroic dialogue.
"This is gonna sound weird," he said carefully, still upside-down, "but could you maybe just... stop robbing the bank?"
Silence.
Peter tried again.
"Like voluntarily?"
The robber at the door turned immediately and bolted.
"Okay rude—"
The second robber spun around.
And fired.
BOOOOM.
Peter's Spider-Sense exploded.
He dropped instantly.
The blast tore through the ceiling where he'd been hanging less than half a second earlier.
Concrete exploded outward.
The bank shook violently.
Civilians screamed.
Peter rolled behind the counter.
Heart hammering.
Okay.
That would've killed him.
Important information.
"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!" Peter shouted.
The gauntlet-user advanced aggressively.
Blue energy pulsed through the weapon.
Peter peeked upward briefly.
Definitely alien tech.
Modified though.
Bulkier than original Chitauri design.
Human adaptation.
Still horrifying.
"Okay!" Peter yelled. "You're actually using alien weapons in a bank robbery! That's— wow, okay, that's a sentence now!"
The robber fired again.
BOOM.
Peter ducked sideways.
The blast cratered the marble floor.
Spider-Sense.
Move left.
Move right.
Duck.
Jump.
Peter stopped thinking consciously and trusted instinct instead.
The world slowed.
Not physically.
Perceptually.
His body moved ahead of danger automatically.
The vibrations.
The pressure changes.
The predictive warning flooding his nervous system.
Peter vaulted over the counter.
The robber tracked him immediately.
Too slow.
THWIP.
Web-line hit the gauntlet.
Messy shot.
Half the webbing attached to the counter too.
The robber jerked backward violently.
Peter landed awkwardly.
Almost slipped.
Recovered at the last second.
"...Played that cooler in my head."
The robber snarled and yanked against the webbing.
Peter fired again instinctively.
THWIP.
Direct hit.
The guy slammed backward against the wall completely webbed in place.
Gauntlet pinned.
Movement restricted.
Done.
Silence crashed into the bank.
Everyone stared.
Peter stood there breathing hard.
Forty seconds total.
His first real supervillain fight.
And honestly?
He thought it went... medium.
The civilians slowly lifted their heads.
The teller behind the counter blinked repeatedly.
One elderly customer pointed weakly.
"...Are you a child?"
Peter froze.
"...No?"
The silence that followed communicated:
You are visibly fourteen years old.
Peter looked down at himself.
School uniform.
Khakis.
Polo shirt visible beneath hoodie.
Ski goggles.
Oh God.
He looked like a middle-school ski accident.
Outside, police sirens approached rapidly now.
Peter pointed awkwardly at the webbed robber.
"So the good news is he's super arrested."
Nobody responded.
The webbed man struggled violently.
Peter pointed at him again.
"The webs dissolve eventually! Non-toxic! Mostly biodegradable!"
Still silence.
Peter took one slow step backward.
"...I should go."
Another step.
"The police seem very close."
Another step.
"You guys probably have forms to fill out."
The elderly customer slowly raised a trembling hand.
"...Thank you?"
Peter blinked.
Then smiled beneath the goggles.
"...Yeah."
THWIP.
Web-line.
Swing upward.
Gone through the same ventilation window he'd entered through.
Outside, the first police officers rushed toward the building.
Peter swung across the intersection.
Three blocks.
Rooftop.
Fire escape.
School window.
Bathroom.
Classroom.
Total elapsed time:
Approximately nine minutes.
Peter slipped back into his seat during the second half of chemistry.
Mr. Harrington glanced over immediately.
"You okay?"
Peter was still breathing slightly hard.
Web-fluid residue clung to his left sleeve.
"...Fine."
Harrington frowned.
"You look sweaty."
"Science emergency."
"...What does that mean?"
Peter grabbed his pencil.
"I genuinely don't have time to explain."
[CHIBI PANEL]
Tiny cartoon Peter sits in chemistry class covered in soot while classmates stare.
CHIBI PETER:
I FOUGHT AN ALIEN GUN MAN DURING SECOND PERIOD.
Tiny cartoon teacher continues lecture without noticing.
CHIBI HARRINGTON:
"As you can see, covalent bonds—"
The police report later described the event as follows:
PERPETRATOR APPREHENDED ON-SITE
METHOD OF DETAINMENT UNKNOWN
MATERIAL CONSISTENT WITH ORGANIC SILK COMPOUND
WITNESS DESCRIPTIONS INCONSISTENT
PRIMARY SUSPECT DESCRIPTION:
"A kid in goggles."
This did not improve Peter's confidence in the outfit.
At 4:30 P.M., the Daily Bugle website published an editorial.
Peter read it on his phone at dinner.
The headline nearly made him choke on mashed potatoes.
WHO IS THE MASKED MENACE MAKING VIGILANTE ARRESTS IN QUEENS?
Subheadline:
"Unregulated costumed individuals now intervening in active crimes."
Peter stared at the article in disbelief.
"...That feels excessive."
May looked up from the kitchen.
"What does?"
Peter locked his phone instantly.
"Nothing."
Ben lowered his newspaper slightly.
Peter avoided eye contact immediately.
Ben narrowed his eyes.
"...Peter."
"What?"
"You've had that expression all week."
"What expression?"
"The one where you look guilty before anyone's accused you of anything."
Peter stabbed aggressively at green beans.
"I think that's just my face."
Ben continued staring.
Peter ate faster.
Somewhere in Manhattan, J. Jonah Jameson was currently inventing reasons to hate him professionally.
And in Queens—
Herman Schultz sat in police custody trying to explain how he'd been defeated by a teenager wearing ski goggles.
Neither situation was going to improve soon.