[August 26th.]
[Six months later.]
Spider-Man swung over the high-rises of New York, reflecting on everything that had happened lately.
....
This summer had been brutally hot—both literally and figuratively. After what I'd started calling "The Warehouse Incident," I had to go deep underground. Not that I vanished from the radar; I just became much more careful. For one, I now mostly stick to the heights, patrolling and thoroughly exploring Big Apple's skyscrapers. From here on, my top priority has become saving cats from trees and stopping petty crooks.
Looking back, I realize I was doing things wrong from the start. The first mistake was only appearing at night. If I want to keep up the "Friendly Neighborhood" appearance, I need to swing by during daylight too, helping out openly and building my reputation.
Besides, this way I have a steady stream of photos for Jonah. It's not that I'm afraid—quite the opposite, really. I know full well that the story is far from over, which means I need to be prepared. That's why I dialed down 'serious' activity and funneled my energy into training.
On that note—congratulations to me—I've finally had a breakthrough with my Spider-Sense. Now, I can not only detect danger, but actually pinpoint its source. I honed this skill because more people have been hunting for my picture to sell to various news outlets. And, since I consider them threats, they're even easier to track. I've made progress—big progress—but, honestly, it still feels like I'm nowhere near unlocking the full potential of my Spider-Sense.
Peter Parker's life also changed. Let's start with the basics: family. My relationship with Ben and May evolved over these six months. I've tried to show them that Peter Parker isn't quite as domesticated as they once thought. My schedule has probably become predictable to them: I see Ben and May in the morning, sometimes for an hour or two at night.
On weekends, I try to make sure I spend extra time at home, but even then, they noticed things were changing and started asking questions. Ben was the first to react, worrying I might have fallen in with a bad crowd or gotten mixed up in drugs—typical parent fears. I told him it was just school and work, chasing Spider-Man stories, that hanging out at home 24/7 didn't help my future or social life… but I doubted he really believed me.
Since then, our relationship has landed somewhere neutral. The warmth is still there, but there's a distance now, like he thinks me "growing up" is pushing us apart. If only it were that simple.
Things with my friends are much better. My bond with Gwen, Miles, and Harry has only gotten stronger. We meet up several times a week. Most of the time we hang out at Harry's—the Osborn penthouse is big and usually free of any parental interference. Norman is almost never home. As for Harry's mother, Harry swears she's always traveling through Europe, busy with Osborn family charity work. Not sure, but I think there's something brewing between Miles and Gwen now.
I also met Mr. Stacy himself, but only after taking down some bank robbers one night. For once, it wasn't a one-sided "speaking-to-the-backs-of-cops" encounter. That official turned out to be George Stacy.
That night, I realized I'd made a friend in the police force—and not the only one. They might have distrusted me at first, seeing the mask and all, but a few corny jokes and my 'easy-going Spider charm' melted the ice.
Some other milestones: I celebrated my seventeenth birthday. So, life moves on…Suddenly, my Spider-Sense tingled. I clung to the building and spotted two very familiar figures crawling out onto a rooftop. That afro and that bald head were unmistakable.
"You idiot, why'd you trip the alarm?"
"Shut up and move before the cops arrive!"
In a flash, my webbing snared their ankles, sending both crashing to the ground.
"Well well, my favorite duo: Biba and Boba—also known as Trapster and Bonecrusher. Out late tonight, boys?"
"None of your business, Flycatcher! Get him!" Trapster yelled, swinging a big sack at me.
"Seriously? Where's your glue gun? The cops took it when they let you out?" I shot back, grinning as he scowled in silence. "Really?"
"Shut up! I'm working on building a new one."
"Huh, I guess it's true—a sucker's gotta be a sucker." I stuck what he claimed was a tube of glue to his face and smashed it on the roof's tiles.
"But unlike this idiot, my brass knuckles are always with me," Bonecrusher snapped, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "Let's see what you got, wall-crawler!"
"You know, I think I'll pass." I shot a web at Bonecrusher, pressed the new button on my shooter, and sent a jolt of electricity through it. The "electro-web" was my latest invention—something I'd tinkered with for months.
The trick was to load the right charge and not to fry my web-shooters. The design still needs refining, but so far, it's never failed.
Bonecrusher dropped, stunned. I quickly webbed both crooks to the roof. "Wait here for the cops, boys," I quipped. Sure, they weren't top-tier villains, but I could handle goons like them in my sleep. Maybe those months of training are finally paying off. I cross paths with these two so often, it's getting old.
As much as I'd love to swing a little longer, it's time to—wait, what's that? A silhouette darted across the roof below. Huh. I landed behind a rooftop ledge for a better look. It wasn't my imagination. Black cat suit, white hair—it was Black Cat, Felicia Hardy herself.
"Meow." I wasn't sure how to react.
"Meow. I thought tonight would be routine, but looks like things just got interesting," Felicia purred.
"I fly around New York a lot, but I've never run into someone this beautiful," I blurted. What am I saying?!
Felicia grinned, abruptly bridging the small distance between us and resting her palms on my chest. Her perfume hit me—sharp and intoxicating.
"It's dangerous for a lady to be out alone at night. Want me to walk you home?"
"Sorry, dear, but I'm a cat who walks alone." She leaned in, dropping her voice as she drew even closer, faces barely apart. "Though… if you want, you can always try and catch me." In a flash, she pushed off, sprinting for the far end of the roof. I laughed.
"Game on, Spider. Time to play catch-the-kitty." Leaping after her, I fired a web and swung across, just in time to see Felicia vault and hook her winch onto the next building. Seconds later, I caught up, hanging upside down from a web, right beside her.
"How's it going?" I asked, feeling the giddy tension in the air. Felicia smirked and took another flying leap. I followed the city skyline racing by, our chase turning into some kind of aerial dance. There was real electricity—every move was half-flirt, half-competition. We landed together atop another rooftop, breathless but grinning.
"That was fun," I admitted, relaxing a bit. "But seriously, it's time to return what you stole."
Felicia tensed, if only for a moment—just a slight shift in posture. "How did you know?"
"You've got a small bag on your back—it's the kind thieves usually carry." Honestly, I just made that up, but you have to act the part of the all-knowing hero sometimes.
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