Like a veteran pilot shot out of a cannon, Peter plummeted into the concrete canyons of New York. The tactical overlay inside his lenses immediately flashed a massive spike in violent crime. He had been out of town for two days. Naturally, the city had lost its mind the second he left.
A massive steel behemoth, built like a five-meter-tall Ferris wheel frame on steroids, tore down the avenue. It bristled with mounted machine guns and mechanical claws, ruthlessly crushing every cab and sedan in its path. Drivers bailed out of their cars at the red light and sprinted for the sidewalks.
"What is that?" Peter asked the open comms channel.
The suit's database supplied the file. Jackson Weele. Former Osborn Technologies sales manager. Fired for embezzlement. Broke in to destroy the ledgers, got caught. Motive: revenge.
"Nobody builds a giant wheel just because their last name is Weele," Peter muttered, popping his web-wings to catch an updraft. "That is way too stupid, even for New York."
He checked the Avengers' roster status. Tony, Steve, and the heavy hitters were currently somewhere over the Atlantic, escorting Emil Blonsky—the Abomination—to the newly commissioned Raft prison in international waters. That left Hank Pym and Janet van Dyne holding the fort.
The NYPD was trying to set up a barricade down the street. A SWAT team could handle a guy in a lizard suit or a chameleon impersonator, but a two-story rolling death-coil? Not a chance.
Down below, Hank Pym shifted to giant scale. A sixty-foot Ant-Man stepped into the intersection and braced himself to catch the wheel.
The wheel didn't stop. It whipped a mechanical claw out, hooked an abandoned sedan, and hurled it at Hank's head. It simultaneously opened fire, tracing a line of heavy-caliber rounds up Hank's reinforced chest plate.
Hank deflected the car. He reached down with a massive hand to grab the central axle. The wheel cranked its RPMs. The tread caught Hank's palm, burned rubber against his suit's Kevlar weave, and used the massive hand as a ramp. It launched directly into Giant-Man's face, slapped him across the cheek, bounced off like a massive steel yo-yo, and hit the pavement spinning.
Peter landed on a stone gargoyle near Osborn Technologies and groaned. "This is fantastic. The Shocker. Mysterio. Now a giant wheel. Am I exclusively dealing with problems that sound like old B-movies?"
"Glad to see you're looking healthy, Spider-Man," Janet van Dyne's voice crackled over the comms. At the press conference last weekend, Tony had officially announced Spider-Man, Black Panther, and the Wasp as the newest Avengers.
"I'm in position above the Osborn building," Peter reported, eyeing the dust cloud tearing up the avenue. "Those Pym Particle darts you were working on. Can they hit an external target?"
"Hold on, let me patch Hank in."
Hank's voice groaned over the line. He had clearly shrunk back down. "I'm here. Janet has the throwable Pym darts ready. I know what you're thinking, Peter, but the math doesn't favor us. Your upgraded web tensile strength only gives us a 79.6% chance of stopping that kinetic mass."
"Then we change the math," Janet cut in. She sounded entirely too thrilled. "I'm directly overhead, little spider. Make the net. I'll make it count."
"Always ready," Peter said.
Peter dropped into the intersection. He fired alternating web-lines left and right, anchoring them to light poles, building facades, and fire hydrants. He wove a thick, overlapping barrier across the entire street.
The Big Wheel didn't care. It revved its engine and charged.
The moment the steel tread hit the silk, a tiny yellow streak zipped past Peter's shoulder. Janet dropped a Pym Particle dart dead center into the web matrix. The white silk flashed. It expanded exponentially, swelling from thin ropes into massive, solidified cables of industrial-grade glue.
The giant wheel hit the barricade. The impact shook the pavement. The wheel didn't break through. Its momentum died, trapped in the massive web-cushion.
It shifted gears. It threw itself in reverse, tore the top layer of asphalt off the street, and spun ninety degrees. It accelerated straight toward a glass-fronted Manhattan office building.
It didn't crash through the lobby. The treads gripped the architecture. It drove straight up the vertical glass wall.
"It's driving up a wall!" Peter yelled into the comms. "That completely defies the laws of physics!"
Silence hung on the channel for a solid three seconds.
"You are literally the last person in New York who gets to complain about that," Hank said.
Peter didn't wait for it to come down. He fired two lines, snagging the wheel's machine gun mounts, and dug his heels into the asphalt. He hauled back, trying to rip the guns off the chassis. The wheel crested the roof, launched into the sky, and slammed back down onto the avenue on the other side. It hit the ground spinning, tearing straight for Osborn Technologies.
Peter fired another line at the pavement to anchor himself. The wheel was basically a massive motor strapped to a tire. It dragged him forward.
His spider-sense stayed quiet. A white-and-black blur dropped from the sky.
Cindy Moon hit the pavement beside him. She didn't say a word. She fired two thick strands of organic silk, wrapping the left-side machine gun barrel, and yanked. The metal groaned and snapped. She fired another volley at the right-side mount, planted her boots next to Peter's, and pulled.
Together, the two spiders dragged the behemoth's speed down. The spinning treads sparked against the road, carving deep trenches into the asphalt.
A shadow fell over them. Hank Pym, currently the size of a five-story building, stepped into the street. He reached down with both hands, grabbed the combined bundles of Peter and Cindy's webbing, and hauled back like he was pulling a stubborn dog on a leash.
The massive steel wheel finally locked up. It screeched to a dead halt, the engine stalling out with a pathetic whine.
Another supervillain down.
Peter let go of his web line and dusted his hands. He looked up at Giant-Man, then over at Cindy.
"Well," Peter said. "Looks like the Weele has been parked. By the Parker."
Cindy stared at him. Giant-Man stared at him. The silence was absolute.
Peter shrugged. "What? That was solid wordplay. I think it's pretty good."
PS: Jackson Weele (The Big Wheel) is a real, classic Silver Age Marvel villain. Yes, his name is Weele. Yes, he drives a giant wheel. He belongs in the exact same glorious, ridiculous tier as the Wall, a former bricklayer who literally became a living wall after an accident and the Hypno-Hustler, A disco-themed villain who uses hypnotic music from his guitar and "hypno-boots" to rob his audiences.