Dinner passed quicker than Peter expected, the tension from earlier fading into easier conversation as the plates emptied and the room settled into that warm, comfortable kind of noise that came with family dinners.
Helen kept the conversation moving, Gwen jumped in whenever things got too serious, and even George relaxed enough to stop studying Peter like he was under investigation.
By the time the dishes were cleared, Peter almost forgot how awkward it had felt walking through the door.
Almost.
The second Helen stood up to start cleaning, Gwen grabbed Peter's wrist and pulled him out of his chair before he could even ask where they were going.
"Come on," she said with a grin that told him she had already decided for both of them.
Peter laughed as she dragged him toward the balcony doors.
The night air hit them the second Gwen slid the glass open, cool and sharp against the warmth of the apartment, the city stretching endlessly below in lights and distant traffic.
Out there, away from her parents and the dinner table and the weight of everything else, it felt easier to breathe again.
Peter leaned against the railing while Gwen stood close, her shoulder pressed against his, both of them looking out over the city for a quiet moment before she broke the silence.
"So," Gwen said, glancing up at him, "how's the celebrity life treating you?"
Peter laughed under his breath, already knowing what she meant.
"I still can't believe I have a Spider-Man social media account," he admitted, pulling out his phone and showing her the follower count. "It's insane."
Gwen's eyes widened slightly.
"That many already?" she asked, impressed despite herself. "Wow. Guess I'm dating a public figure now."
Peter smirked, leaning a little closer.
"You were dating me before I was famous."
Gwen rolled her eyes, though the smile she gave him softened immediately after.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "And I'd still pick you over Spider-Man."
Peter's expression softened at that, the teasing fading as he looked at her, really looked at her, like she'd just said something that mattered more than she realized.
Then Gwen stepped forward, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and kissed him.
Peter kissed her back instantly, his hands finding her waist as she pressed into him, the city noise fading into background static while the two of them got completely lost in each other.
One kiss turned into another.
And another.
At some point Gwen's arms wrapped around his neck, Peter's back hit the balcony railing, and neither of them seemed remotely interested in stopping.
Inside, George glanced toward the balcony through the glass door and immediately frowned when he realized exactly what was happening.
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose while Helen laughed quietly beside him.
"George," Helen said, amused. "They're teenagers."
George crossed his arms.
"On my balcony."
Out on the balcony, Peter and Gwen pulled apart just enough to breathe, both laughing quietly at how caught up they got.
Gwen pressed her forehead against his.
"That's two," she whispered, reminding him of her earlier count.
Peter smiled, brushing hair from her face.
"I'm guessing I have to earn the third one too?"
Gwen kissed him once, quick and teasing.
"Maybe later."
Eventually the hour got late enough that Peter had to leave, and after saying goodbye—along with one last kiss at the door that definitely counted as number three—he stepped back out into the night and headed for the nearest alley.
A quick change later, Spider-Man was back.
The suit fit like second skin now, and within seconds Peter was swinging through the city again, the wind cutting past him while his police scanner crackled softly in his ear.
For Peter, the day never really ended.
Across the city, deep beneath Oscorp Tower in a restricted underground lab, another night was just beginning.
The laboratory was sterile, silent except for the low hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of monitors tracking unstable chemical reactions.
At the center of the room stood Norman Osborn, staring at the chamber that would either save his life… or end it.
Beside him, a scientist adjusted readings on a nearby control panel, his hands visibly trembling as he reviewed the serum data one last time.
"Sir," the scientist said carefully, his voice tight with concern, "the serum is still unstable. The trials haven't progressed enough for human application. There could be catastrophic side effects."
Norman barely looked at him.
His face was cold, sharp, and determined in the way only desperate men could be.
"There could also be results," Norman replied flatly. "And I'm done waiting."
The scientist swallowed hard.
"Mr. Osborn—"
Norman turned sharply, his glare cutting the man off instantly.
"Strap me in."
The order hung in the air for only a second before the scientist obeyed, because men like Norman Osborn weren't used to hearing no.
Norman climbed onto the steel table willingly, laying back while the restraints were fastened over his wrists, chest, and legs, locking him in place with heavy metal clasps.
Once secured, the table slid backward into the sealed chamber, hydraulics hissing as it shifted upright into a vertical position, leaving Norman standing restrained against the cold steel.
Norman looked through the glass at the scientist.
"You may begin."
The scientist hesitated.
Then pressed the button.
The chamber activated immediately, thick green vapor flooding inside, curling around Norman's body like living smoke as the serum dispersed into the air and began entering his system through inhalation and direct skin absorption.
At first, Norman gritted his teeth.
Then the pain hit.
His body arched violently against the restraints as a scream tore from his throat, raw and animalistic, the sound echoing through the chamber while his muscles spasmed uncontrollably.
The scientist panicked, gripping the controls.
"Norman! Norman, can you hear me?!"
But Norman couldn't answer.
He was screaming too hard.
Veins bulged beneath his skin, his eyes rolling back as every inch of his body convulsed under the force of the serum rewriting him from the inside out.
Then, suddenly, the vapor stopped.
The chamber vented.
Silence.
Norman hung there limp against the restraints, unmoving.
The scientist stared at the monitors.
No response.
No movement.
His breathing grew shallow as fear crept in.
"…Oh God."
He rushed into the chamber, moving to Norman's side and checking the readings, his hands shaking as he leaned closer.
Nothing.
Dead.
That's what he thought.
Then Norman's eyes snapped open.
Bright. Wild. Wrong.
Before the scientist could react, Norman ripped through the metal restraints like they were paper, the steel snapping apart under impossible strength.
His hand shot forward and wrapped around the scientist's throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.
Norman smiled.
Not his normal smile.
Something broken.
Something cruel.
Something deranged.
The scientist choked, clawing at Norman's hand, his feet kicking uselessly in the air before Norman hurled him across the chamber like garbage.
The man crashed through the glass wall, shattered through it, and slammed into a metal workstation hard enough to crumple it.
His body hit the floor and didn't move again.
Norman stood there in the wreckage, breathing heavily, staring at his hands as if seeing them for the first time and then he laughed evilly
Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, deep within the headquarters of the League of Shadows, Ra's al Ghul was engaged in a sparring match with one of the league's elite assassins. The Demon Head moved with practiced grace, effortlessly disarming his opponent before delivering a decisive strike that sent the assassin crashing to the floor. As servants handed him a towel, Ra's patiently waited for the arrival of his daughter after receiving a lucrative contract from a powerful mob boss in New York who wanted a certain "bug" eliminated.
A few moments later, Talia al Ghul entered the training chamber and respectfully bowed before her father. "You wished to see me, Father?" she asked. Ra's wiped the sweat from his brow before nodding and handing her a thick folder. Talia opened it and quickly scanned through the contents. Her eyes narrowed as she found several photographs of a young masked vigilante swinging between skyscrapers. The name printed across the reports immediately caught her attention—Spider-Man.
Talia looked up from the folder and raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?" she asked. Ra's crossed his arms behind his back and began pacing across the room. "Spider-Man is New York's newest hero," he explained. "Despite appearing only recently, he has already become a significant nuisance. Several highly valued clients of ours have complained about his interference in their operations. Drug shipments have disappeared and numerous profitable arrangements have been disrupted because of him."
Talia continued reading through the file before looking back at her father. "If he's merely a vigilante, why send me? Surely one of the league's assassins could handle him." Ra's gave a slight smile at her question. "Ordinarily, yes. However, there is very little reliable information about him. We know he possesses extraordinary strength, agility, and reflexes far beyond those of a normal human. He also produces some form of webbing capable of restraining opponents and traversing the city at remarkable speeds. Beyond that, his true identity and full capabilities remain unknown."
Ra's stopped in front of his daughter and fixed her with a serious gaze. "You will lead a small task force to New York and assess the situation personally. The client has paid an exceptional amount for this contract, and I want this matter handled with absolute professionalism. Learn everything you can about him, determine the extent of his abilities, and if necessary..." He paused for a moment before continuing. "...put him down."
Talia closed the folder and tucked it beneath her arm. "Understood, Father." With a final bow, she turned and departed the chamber, already considering how she would approach the mysterious hero. Behind her, Ra's watched silently. Few individuals managed to attract the attention of both New York's criminal underworld and the League of Shadows. If Spider-Man truly was as capable as the reports suggested, then this mission might prove far more interesting than either of them expected.
Back in New York, Peter swung effortlessly through the city skyline, weaving between buildings as the cool night air rushed past him. The city lights stretched endlessly beneath him, and for once it seemed like he might actually have a peaceful patrol. His thoughts were interrupted when his earpiece chimed. A smile immediately appeared beneath his mask when he saw Gwen's name flash across the display.
"Hey, Gwen," Peter answered as he launched a web toward the next building.
"Hey yourself," Gwen replied. "What are you up to?"
Peter glanced down and immediately spotted an armored truck speeding through traffic while several masked men leaned out of the windows firing at pursuing police cars. "Nothing much," he said casually before dropping from the sky and landing on the truck's grille with a loud metallic clang. "Just taking a relaxing evening swing."
Gwen laughed. "I only called to say goodnight before I went to bed."
"Aw, that's sweet—"
Before he could finish, one of the hijackers rolled down a side window and fired several shots at him. Peter effortlessly dodged the bullets, his spider-sense screaming in his head. The gunshots echoed through the street loud enough for Gwen to hear through the call.
"Peter?" Gwen asked suspiciously. "Was that a gunshot?"
"What? No!" Peter replied quickly. "Just some kids setting off fireworks."
"Peter..."
"I'm serious! Totally harmless fireworks."
As he spoke, Peter crawled along the side of the moving truck. The gunman leaned out the window to take another shot, only for a strand of webbing to slam into his chest. With a sharp tug, Peter yanked the criminal out of the vehicle and sent him tumbling safely into a thick web net attached to a nearby streetlight.
"Uh-huh," Gwen said, clearly unconvinced.
"See? Nothing dangerous happening over here."
Peter reached the driver's side window and fired two quick strands of webbing, covering the driver's face and hands. The blinded criminal immediately lost control of the vehicle, causing the truck to swerve wildly across the road. Before the situation could become dangerous, Peter leaped onto the roof and sprinted toward the back of the truck.
Using several thick strands of webbing, he attached each corner of the armored vehicle to nearby buildings and lamp posts. The webs stretched to their limits before finally pulling the truck to a screeching halt. The tires smoked against the pavement as the massive vehicle ground to a complete stop in the middle of the street.
Police cruisers quickly surrounded the immobilized truck while officers rushed forward to arrest the stunned criminals. Peter perched on top of a nearby traffic light and watched the scene for a moment before returning his attention to the call.
"Well, looks like everything's under control," he said cheerfully.
Gwen sighed. "Peter, one of these days you're going to tell me the truth when I ask what you're doing."
"Goodnight, Peter."
"Goodnight, Gwen. Sleep well."
After finishing up with the armored truck robbery, Peter decided to do one final loop around the city before calling it a night. He swung between skyscrapers, taking in the glittering lights of Manhattan as he made sure nothing else needed Spider-Man's attention. Finding the city unusually quiet, he eventually headed home. A few minutes later, he slipped through his basement window, changed out of his suit, and practically collapsed into bed. His body welcomed the opportunity to rest after another long day of school, patrols, and crime-fighting. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
The next morning, Peter remained unconscious long after he would normally be awake. His body was taking full advantage of the downtime to recover from the constant strain he put it through every day. He was eventually stirred awake by the sound of Aunt May coming downstairs to do a load of laundry. Peter groaned, rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the clock before realizing he had slept in far later than usual.
A few minutes later, Peter shuffled upstairs and into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He poured himself a large bowl of cereal before dropping into a chair across from MJ, who was already eating breakfast. "Morning," Peter said through a yawn.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," MJ replied with a smirk. "Nice of you to finally join the living."
Peter rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. His eyebrows immediately shot up when he noticed the time.
"Ten o'clock?" he muttered. "Wow, I really was tired."
As he scrolled through his messages, he knew that Gwen was probably already awake. A small smile crossed his face as he quickly typed out a message. good morning :) Hope you slept well.After sending it, Peter finished his breakfast, got dressed, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the front door.
"See you later!" he called. "Try not to get arrested!" MJ shouted after him. "No promises!" Peter replied before disappearing outside and shutting the door behind him.
A few moments later, Aunt May returned upstairs carrying a basket of freshly folded laundry. She looked around the kitchen before noticing Peter was already gone. "Where did Peter run off to now?" she asked. MJ shrugged while taking another bite of her breakfast. "No clue. Ever since summer started, he's been busy all the time latly."
Meanwhile, in Gotham City, on the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis, deep beneath Wayne Manor, the Batcave buzzed with the quiet hum of advanced computers and massive servers. Bruce Wayne sat before the Batcomputer, countless holographic displays illuminating the cave as he sifted through surveillance footage from across Gotham. For the past several days, he had been tracking the movements of a notorious drug lord attempting to expand his operation into the city. Every lead brought him closer, but the criminal had managed to stay one step ahead.
As Bruce reviewed footage from various airports, highways, and private airfields, something unexpected caught his attention. One of the security cameras captured a woman stepping off a private jet, her face partially concealed beneath a hood. Bruce immediately paused the recording before enhancing the image. Within seconds, the facial recognition software confirmed what he had already suspected.
"Talia..."
Bruce's expression hardened as he watched the footage several more times. Talia al Ghul rarely entered the United States without a reason, and when she did, it almost always ended with someone dead. He immediately abandoned his investigation into the drug lord and began pulling every available satellite feed and security camera that had captured her movements. If Talia was in America, then whatever mission Ra's had given her was likely significant enough to take priority over nearly everything else.
The Batcomputer rapidly pieced together her route, displaying a digital trail stretching across multiple states. Bruce leaned closer to the screen as the system highlighted her destination.
"New York..." he muttered quietly.
At that moment, the elevator leading into the Batcave opened, and Robin stepped out, having already changed into his costume after noticing Bruce had started another investigation. "You called?" Robin asked as he walked toward the Batcomputer, noticing the dozens of surveillance feeds covering the massive monitors.
Bruce didn't take his eyes off the screen. "I was tracking a drug lord trying to push narcotics into Gotham," he explained. "Then I spotted Talia al Ghul."
Robin immediately became serious. "Talia? That's not good."
Bruce nodded. "No, it isn't. She isn't here for Gotham. According to every camera I've tracked, she's already left the city and is heading toward New York." He zoomed in on the latest satellite image showing a convoy of black SUVs making their way east. "The only reason Talia comes to America personally is when Ra's wants someone eliminated."
Robin folded his arms as he studied the screen. "Do we know who the target is?"
Bruce was silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "Not yet. But whoever it is..." His eyes narrowed as another file containing photographs of Spider-Man appeared on one of the side monitors after cross-referencing known vigilante activity in New York. "...they're about to have the League of Shadows knocking on their door."
As Spider-Man swung effortlessly through the towering skyline of New York, he couldn't shake the strange feeling that someone was watching him. His spider-sense wasn't going off, so he knew he wasn't in any immediate danger, but years of fighting criminals had taught him to trust his instincts. Even after landing atop the edge of a skyscraper and taking a moment to overlook the bustling streets below, that uneasy feeling lingered in the back of his mind. He slowly scanned the surrounding rooftops but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Deciding not to let it ruin his day, Peter pulled his phone from his pocket and smiled as he opened his messages. His fingers quickly typed out a text to Gwen.
Hey beautiful, you free tonight after work? Want to do something???
He hit send and slipped his phone back into his pocket before taking one last look across the city. "Probably just my imagination," he muttered to himself. With that, he leaped from the skyscraper, fired a web toward the next building, and disappeared into the maze of concrete and steel.
Several buildings away, however, four figures dressed in black ninja attire remained perfectly still atop another rooftop. Each of them was concealed behind air-conditioning units and ventilation systems, making them nearly impossible to spot. Two watched Spider-Man through high-powered binoculars while another operated a long-range camera equipped with several specialized lenses. The fourth quietly recorded notes on a tablet, documenting every movement the young hero made.
Without making a sound, Talia al Ghul stepped out from the shadows behind them. None of the assassins reacted with surprise, having sensed her approach long before she arrived. She folded her arms behind her back and looked toward the spot where Spider-Man had vanished between the buildings.
"What have you managed to learn so far?" she asked calmly.
One of the assassins lowered his binoculars and respectfully bowed his head before opening the report on his tablet. "Our surveillance has been ongoing since your arrival in New York. The target displays physical abilities far beyond those of an ordinary human. He possesses tremendous strength, easily lifting and throwing vehicles, overpowering multiple armed opponents, and stopping speeding armored trucks with little visible effort. His agility is equally extraordinary. He moves through the city using an unknown web-like substance that allows him to swing between buildings at remarkable speeds while performing complex aerial maneuvers."
Another assassin continued the report. "His reflexes border on superhuman. We have reviewed dozens of encounters, and he consistently avoids gunfire, explosions, and surprise attacks with almost impossible precision. We suspect he possesses some form of precognitive danger sense, though we have been unable to determine the exact nature of the ability. Conventional firearms have proven largely ineffective due to his reaction speed."
A third assassin zoomed in on several photographs taken over the past week. "The webbing itself appears to be one of his greatest assets. He uses it offensively to bind opponents, defensively to shield civilians, and strategically to immobilize vehicles or alter his momentum during combat. He demonstrates exceptional intelligence, often defeating larger groups through improvisation rather than brute force. We have yet to determine the source of the webbing, whether it is biological or mechanical."
Talia silently examined the photographs spread across the tablet. Every image showed the masked hero smiling or joking, even while fighting dangerous criminals. To most people, he looked carefree and inexperienced, but Talia knew better. Anyone capable of surviving New York's criminal underworld while remaining unidentified was far more dangerous than they appeared.
"Anything else?" she asked.
The lead assassin nodded. "Yes, Lady Talia. Despite weeks of surveillance, we have been unable to discover his true identity. He never removes the mask in public, leaves no forensic evidence behind, and has repeatedly disappeared into crowds without being followed.
Talia closed the folder of photographs and looked out over the city where Spider-Man had disappeared. A faint smile crossed her lips.
"Good," she said quietly. "A worthy hunt is always more interesting than an easy one."
As Peter swung across the city toward reports of a robbery in progress, his phone suddenly buzzed inside his pocket. Letting his momentum carry him in a wide arc around a skyscraper, he reached into his suit and pulled it out with one hand. A grin immediately spread across his face when he saw Gwen's name on the screen.
Sorry, handsome. I'm stuck at work tonight :( Rain check? I'll make it up to you ❤️
Peter couldn't help but chuckle. Even while swinging hundreds of feet above the streets of Manhattan, Gwen always managed to brighten his day. He quickly fired another web to keep himself moving before typing back.
It's okay, beautiful. 😊 Just text me when you're done, and I'll come walk you home. Stay safe. ❤️
He slipped his phone back into his pocket just as police sirens echoed a few blocks away. "Duty calls," Peter muttered with a smile before shooting another web and accelerating toward the robbery.
As the afternoon wore on, Spider-Man became his usual busy self. Between stopping robberies, chasing down fleeing purse snatchers, and helping police apprehend several armed criminals, he still found time to snap a few pictures of himself perched on gargoyles and hanging upside down from skyscrapers for his social media. One photo showed him giving a thumbs-up while the sunset painted the sky orange behind him, while another captured him balancing effortlessly on the tip of the Empire State Building's antenna. Within minutes, thousands of likes and comments began pouring in.
Not long afterward, Peter landed near a busy intersection after noticing an elderly woman standing nervously on the sidewalk. She clutched a small grocery bag tightly against her chest as streams of impatient cars sped past, making it impossible for her to cross. Her cane trembled slightly in her hand, and every time she took a step forward, another vehicle rushed through the crosswalk, forcing her to retreat. Spider-Man immediately walked over with his usual warm smile.
"Need a hand, ma'am?" he asked.
The elderly woman looked up, her eyes widening in surprise before she smiled back. "Oh my... Spider-Man! If you don't mind, dear. These old legs aren't as quick as they used to be."
"I've got you," Peter replied gently.
Rather than simply carrying her across, Peter offered his arm for support and matched his pace to hers. He waited patiently as the crossing signal changed before stepping into the street beside her. Several drivers immediately recognized Spider-Man and stopped their cars, smiling and waving as they watched the city's hero escort the elderly woman safely across. Peter chatted with her the entire way, listening as she happily told him stories about her grandchildren and how they were always talking about him.
When they reached the opposite sidewalk, Peter handed her grocery bag back with a grin.
"There we go. Mission accomplished."
The elderly woman reached up and patted his cheek affectionately. "You're such a sweet young man. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck beneath his mask, embarrassed by the compliment. "Thanks, ma'am. You have a wonderful day, okay?"
"You too, Spider-Man. And be careful."
A short while later, as Peter continued his patrol, he noticed a moving truck parked outside an apartment building. Three exhausted movers were struggling to lift an enormous solid oak wardrobe up a narrow flight of stairs. Sweat dripped from their faces as they grunted with every inch they managed to move before the heavy piece nearly slipped from their grasp.
"Whoa, whoa, careful!" Peter called as he landed beside them.
One of the movers let out a relieved sigh. "Spider-Man! Please tell me you've got a minute."
Peter looked at the massive wardrobe before laughing. "Yeah... I think I can squeeze you guys into my schedule."
The movers quickly stepped aside as Peter crouched down and effortlessly lifted the wardrobe by himself as though it weighed little more than a cardboard box. The three men could only stare with their mouths hanging open while Spider-Man carefully carried it up the narrow staircase, making sure not to scratch the walls or damage the expensive furniture. Once inside the apartment, he gently set it exactly where the homeowners wanted it before returning downstairs for the next item.
Over the next twenty minutes, Peter helped carry refrigerators, couches, dining tables, mattresses, boxes full of books, and even an upright piano. What would have taken the moving crew most of the afternoon was finished in less than half an hour. The exhausted workers leaned against the truck, laughing in disbelief as they watched Spider-Man casually dust his hands together.
"I've gotta ask," one of them said. "How much can you actually lift?"
Peter thought for a second before shrugging. "Honestly... I've never really found out."
The movers burst into laughter.
"Well," another man said, offering him a bottle of water, "if this whole superhero thing doesn't work out, you've got a job with us."
Peter laughed as he accepted the bottle. "I'll keep that in mind."
After wishing everyone a good day, Peter shot a web onto the nearest building and launched himself back into the air. As he disappeared into the New York skyline once again, dozens of people below stopped to wave. Spider-Man waved back before disappearing
As the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon, painting the New York skyline in brilliant shades of orange, pink, and purple, Peter swung effortlessly between the towering skyscrapers. Rather than continuing his patrol, he suddenly changed direction and shot upward between two of the tallest buildings in Manhattan. Reaching the perfect height, he fired two strands of webbing—one attaching to each skyscraper. The webline stretched tightly between the buildings like a suspension bridge before Peter landed on it with practiced ease.
He carefully lowered himself until he was sitting comfortably on the webline, his legs dangling hundreds of feet above the bustling streets below. The web barely swayed beneath his weight as a cool evening breeze rolled through the concrete canyon. Cars looked like tiny toys from where he sat, their headlights slowly beginning to illuminate the streets as the city transitioned from day to night. The sounds of horns, conversations, and distant sirens drifted upward, blending together into the familiar soundtrack of New York.
Peter leaned back against one of the web strands and let out a quiet sigh. Moments like these were rare. Most of his time as Spider-Man was spent running toward danger, chasing criminals, or trying to save people before disaster struck. Sitting above the city with nothing demanding his attention gave him a chance to simply breathe. He watched as thousands of office workers poured onto the sidewalks below, families made their way home for dinner, and children pointed excitedly whenever they spotted the distant silhouette of Spider-Man resting high above the city.
Pulling out his phone, Peter checked to see if Gwen had replied to his last message. A smile spread across his face when he saw a new notification.
Gwen ❤️
Finally off work! Sorry it took so long. Still want to walk me home, handsome? ❤️
Peter couldn't help but grin beneath his mask before quickly typing out a reply.
Always. 😊 I'll be there in a few minutes. Stay where you are, beautiful. ❤️
Before putting his phone away, Peter quickly switched to the camera app and snapped a picture from where he was sitting. The photograph captured the breathtaking New York skyline bathed in the warm colors of sunset, with his boots dangling over the edge of the city hundreds of feet below. He sent the picture to Gwen with a simple caption.
Best seat in New York. Be there soon. ❤️
Almost immediately, three little typing bubbles appeared on his screen.
You're such a show-off 😂❤️.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, stood up on the narrow webline as though he were balancing on solid ground, and stretched his arms above his head. With one final glance at the sunset, he smiled.
"Time to go see my girl."
He crouched slightly before launching himself from the webline with explosive force. The web snapped harmlessly behind him as he soared through the air, twisting gracefully before firing another web toward a nearby skyscraper.
Halfway through the swing...
His spider-sense exploded.
Every muscle in Peter's body tensed as the familiar tingling sensation screamed through his skull. Without even knowing why, his instincts took over. He released his webline mid-swing and violently twisted his body sideways in the air.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Four black ninja stars sliced through the exact space his head had occupied only a fraction of a second earlier. They embedded themselves deep into the glass wall of a nearby office building with enough force to crack the reinforced windows.
Peter's eyes widened beneath his mask.
"Okay..." he muttered while flipping backward through the air. "Definitely not fireworks."
Before he could regain his momentum, two dark figures burst from opposite rooftops, sprinting straight down the sides of the buildings before leaping toward him with impossible precision. More assassins emerged from the surrounding rooftops, silently surrounding him from every direction. Their black clothing blended almost perfectly with the coming night, each one carrying swords, kunai, and additional throwing stars.
Peter fired a web toward the nearest building, barely pulling himself out of the encirclement as another volley of shuriken whistled past his chest. One of the blades clipped the spider emblem on his suit, leaving a shallow cut across the fabric before disappearing into the darkness below.
Landing upside down beneath a water tower, Peter looked around to find nearly a dozen masked figures standing silently across the surrounding rooftops. None of them spoke. None of them rushed him. They simply watched... patiently waiting.
Peter slowly tilted his head.
"...Well," he said, looking from one ninja to the next. "I don't suppose any of you guys are here to ask for an autograph?"