Peter woke several hours later to the sound of his phone vibrating beside his head. He groaned, rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling until his mind finally caught up with the rest of him. When he checked the screen, he found a message from Gwen telling him that she would come over after work to see him and check on MJ.
Peter replied that he would be home before forcing himself out of bed. The house was completely silent when he went upstairs, and for a moment he wondered whether everyone had left. A note on the kitchen counter explained that May had gone to F.E.A.S.T., while MJ's closed bedroom door suggested that she was still sleeping off everything that had happened the previous night.
After listening outside MJ's door and hearing her breathing normally, Peter decided not to wake her. He poured himself a large bowl of cereal and carried it down to the basement, where the unfinished HUD design still covered his computer screen. Loose wires, miniature lenses, and rejected sketches surrounded his mask, but another invention on the workbench immediately captured his attention.
Resting beside the mask was The web-shooter it is a gadget designed to fit over his natural web openings and expand what he could do with the webbing he already produced.
A small channel beneath the device caught the organic webbing the moment it left his wrist and directed it through an adjustable nozzle. By changing the pressure and the shape of the opening, Peter could turn his normal web line into a wider net, a concentrated strand, or a compact ball of compressed webbing.
Peter finished his cereal while tightening the final screws and carefully testing the different settings. one of the feature was something he had named the web bomb. When activated, the device collected several seconds of his natural webbing inside a compression chamber and shaped it into a dense web ball that could be fired at a target.
The instant the ball struck something, the pressure inside it would release and spread the webbing across the surrounding area. If it worked correctly, Peter could trap several criminals at once instead of catching them individually. If it failed, he would either fire an ordinary lump of webbing or accidentally glue his own hand to his face.
Peter secured the web-shooter over his right wrist and aimed it toward an old chair on the opposite side of the basement. He fired a short stream of natural webbing into the device, peter pressed the release switch.
The web bomb shot across the room and struck the chair before exploding into a wide mass of sticky strands. The chair was instantly wrapped from every direction and pulled against the nearby wall. Peter smiled at the successful test, although part of the webbing had also caught a lamp and dragged it onto the floor.
"Web bomb works," Peter said as he added a note to his design. "Accuracy still needs work, and the lamp has made a heroic sacrifice for science." He adjusted the nozzle and reduced the release pressure so the next shot wouldn't spread quite as far.
The police scanner beside his computer continued playing while Peter worked. Most of the radio traffic involved traffic stops and ordinary patrol calls, but his attention shifted when a frightened voice suddenly cut through the static. Gunfire could be heard in the background as an officer urgently called for additional units.
"All available units, officers require immediate assistance at the abandoned warehouse on West Forty-Sixth Street near Eleventh Avenue," the dispatcher announced. "Multiple armed suspects are firing from inside the building. Responding officers are pinned down, and at least two civilians may still be trapped inside."
Peter immediately stopped working and turned toward the scanner as more voices joined the transmission. Several officers warned that the suspects were carrying automatic weapons, while another called for ambulances after one of the police cars was hit. Whatever was happening at the warehouse, the officers already there couldn't handle it alone.
Peter looked toward the unfinished HUD components beside his mask, tempted to install the rough prototype before leaving. He quickly decided against it when he remembered that the last test had filled half his vision with flickering text. "I'll finish you when I get back," he promised before grabbing his suit.
He pulled on the red-and-blue costume, secured the new web-shooter over his right wrist, and tested that the adjustable nozzle lined up properly with his natural webbing. His left wrist remained uncovered so he could swing normally if the experimental gadget jammed. Peter then loaded the web-bomb setting and pulled his mask over his face.
"First field test," Peter muttered as he opened the basement window. "Try not to explode, glue me to a building, or embarrass me in front of the police." He fired a natural web line from his uncovered wrist, attached it to a nearby building, and launched himself toward Manhattan.
By the time Peter reached West Forty-Sixth Street, the entire area surrounding the abandoned warehouse was swarming with police officers and heavily armed SWAT teams. Patrol cars had been positioned across the road as makeshift barricades, but the officers were trapped behind them as gunmen fired from several broken windows along the upper floors. Every time anyone attempted to move closer, another burst of automatic gunfire tore across the street.
Spider-Man swung over the police lines and landed sideways against the armored door of a SWAT van, clinging to it with one hand and both feet. Several officers immediately raised their weapons in surprise before recognizing the red-and-blue costume. "Sorry I'm late to the party," Peter said as he looked toward the warehouse. "Where do you need me?"
The SWAT commander crouched behind the van and pointed toward the upper windows. "We can't approach the building while those shooters have the street covered," he explained. "If you can neutralize the gunmen in those windows, my team can reach the entrance and make our way inside. We have reports of armed suspects and at least two civilians somewhere in the warehouse."
"Before you do that, we have two officers down," another policeman interrupted. He pointed toward a patrol car stranded in the middle of the street, almost halfway between the police barricade and the warehouse. "They're alive, but both have been hit. They're trapped behind that vehicle, and anyone who tries to reach them gets driven back."
Peter climbed to the top of the SWAT van and cautiously looked over its edge. His spider-sense immediately tingled as several bullets struck the side of the vehicle, forcing the nearby officers to duck. Beyond them, he spotted two injured policemen pressed against the trunk of their damaged patrol car, using it as their only protection from the gunmen.
Blood covered one officer's shoulder, while the other held both hands over a wound in his leg. The rear windows of their car had already been shattered, and repeated gunfire was gradually tearing apart the thin metal surrounding them. They wouldn't remain protected for much longer.
Peter quickly studied the street before noticing a large industrial dumpster in the alley beside the SWAT van. He fired several thick strands of natural webbing around it and pulled, dragging the heavy steel container out of the alley. The dumpster scraped loudly across the pavement before stopping directly beside the armored vehicle.
Peter jumped down and tested the side of the dumpster with one hand. The steel was thick enough to stop the gunfire, although he added several dense layers of webbing across the front to catch fragments and reduce the danger of ricochets. Once he was satisfied, he turned toward the waiting SWAT officers.
"I'm going to use this as a moving shield and push it toward the patrol car," Peter explained. "I need two of you behind me. Once we reach the injured officers, grab them by their vests and stay behind the dumpster while I bring everyone back."
Two members of the SWAT team immediately stepped forward. "We can do it," one of them said as they secured their weapons and prepared to move. The paramedics behind the armored van opened their equipment bags and unfolded two stretchers, ready to begin treatment the moment the injured officers reached them.
Peter gripped the rear edge of the dumpster and began pushing it into the open street. The gunmen noticed the movement almost immediately and focused their fire on the improvised shield. Bullets hammered against the opposite side of the steel with a deafening series of metallic impacts, but Peter continued walking forward while the two SWAT officers remained crouched behind him.
"Stay close!" Peter called over the gunfire. His spider-sense warned him whenever a shooter changed angles, allowing him to shift the dumpster before a bullet could slip around its edges. The SWAT officers moved with him, carefully remaining inside the narrow area protected by the container.
The two injured policemen looked toward the approaching dumpster as bullets continued striking its front. Their exhausted expressions changed when they spotted Spider-Man pushing it toward them, followed closely by the rescue team. For the first time since they had been pinned behind the patrol car, hope filled their eyes.
"We're getting you out!" one of the SWAT officers shouted as Peter pushed the dumpster against the rear of the damaged police car. The two men immediately rushed around the protected side and grabbed the injured officers by their tactical vests. One pulled the wounded policeman with the injured shoulder, while the other dragged his partner away from the vehicle.
Peter kept one hand braced against the dumpster while checking that everyone was safely behind it. He then created a thick web handle along the protected side and began moving backward, pulling the heavy container toward the SWAT van. The gunmen continued firing, but the bullets struck the steel instead of the injured officers and the men rescuing them.
The retreat felt much slower with four people crowded behind the dumpster, yet Peter kept the shield carefully positioned between them and every active window. When they finally reached the police barricade, several officers rushed forward and helped carry their wounded partners to the waiting paramedics. The medical team immediately placed them on stretchers and began treating their injuries before loading them into separate ambulances.
Peter watched long enough to see both injured officers safely inside the emergency vehicles. He then turned back toward the warehouse as another burst of gunfire ripped across the street and struck the abandoned patrol car. The white lenses of his mask narrowed as he adjusted the experimental web-shooter around his right wrist.
"All right," Peter said as the web-bomb chamber began collecting and compressing his natural webbing. "The rescue part worked. Now let's do something about the guys ruining everyone's afternoon."
Peter raised his right wrist and aimed the new web-shooter toward the warehouse. The compression chamber filled with his natural webbing, shaping it into several dense web bombs before he fired them toward the upper windows. Each bomb burst on impact, spreading thick layers of webbing across the broken glass, surrounding walls, and gun barrels sticking through the openings.
The gunmen attempted to continue firing, but the sticky webbing clogged their weapons and made it nearly impossible to aim through the covered windows. Several criminals tried tearing the webs away, only to get their hands trapped as well. Peter looked down at his experimental gadget and smiled beneath his mask, pleased that its first field test had worked even better than he expected.
"Windows are secure!" Peter called to the SWAT commander. The commander immediately signaled his team forward, and the officers rushed across the street while the shooters were disabled. Peter jumped from the police barricade and followed close behind them, remaining alert in case anyone found another firing position.
The SWAT team reached the warehouse entrance and used a battering ram to force open the reinforced door. The moment they entered, several criminals opened fire from behind stacks of wooden crates. The officers moved into cover while Peter leaped over their heads, twisting between the bullets as his spider-sense guided him through the gunfire.
One gunman tried tracking Peter with his rifle, but a web line yanked the weapon out of his hands before he could pull the trigger again. Peter landed beside him, swept his legs out from under him, and webbed him to the floor. He then fired another strand across the room, attaching a second criminal to a support pillar before the man could reach for his pistol.
"Please remain stuck until the police arrive," Peter quipped as he leaped onto a steel beam above them. "Trying to escape may result in embarrassment, rope burns, and me adding even more webbing."
Peter separated from the main SWAT team and moved through the upper levels of the warehouse, using his ability to cling to the walls and ceiling to approach the criminals from unexpected directions. Whenever a gunman fired at him, his spider-sense warned him before the trigger was pulled, allowing him to dodge and cover the shooter in webbing before anyone could be injured.
The SWAT officers advanced through the lower floor at the same time, securing every criminal Peter left trapped behind them. In a small side office, they discovered the two missing civilians with their hands bound. The officers freed them and escorted them toward the front entrance while Peter continued searching the rest of the building.
After slowly clearing the warehouse, Peter and the SWAT team met again near the rear loading area. The sound of an engine suddenly roared through the open space, and they spotted a small group of criminals climbing into a white cargo van. Several large bags had already been thrown into the back, and the driver slammed the vehicle into gear as soon as he saw the police.
"Police! Stop the vehicle!" the SWAT commander shouted as his officers raised their weapons. Instead of surrendering, the driver pressed down on the accelerator and sent the van racing toward the open loading doors. The officers were forced to move aside as it sped directly toward them.
Peter fired a thick natural web line from his wrist and attached it to the rear of the van. He planted both feet against the concrete and tightened his grip around the strand, allowing the vehicle to pull the webbing completely straight. The van lurched forward several more feet before coming to an abrupt stop.
The driver continued pressing the accelerator, causing the rear tires to spin uselessly against the concrete as smoke rose around them. Peter leaned backward and held the van in place with one hand, his feet remaining firmly attached to the floor. No matter how hard the engine roared, the vehicle couldn't move another inch.
"You know, most people stop when an entire SWAT team tells them to," Peter called. "It saves gas, protects the tires, and prevents you from discovering that your van is weaker than a spider."
The SWAT officers surrounded the vehicle with their weapons raised. Once the driver realized he wasn't going anywhere, he shut off the engine and slowly placed both hands against the windshield. The remaining criminals surrendered as well, stepping out of the van one at a time before lying on the ground.
After everyone had been handcuffed, the commander radioed the officers outside and confirmed that the warehouse was secure. The captured gunmen were escorted toward waiting police vehicles, while the two rescued civilians were examined by paramedics. Officers also began removing the bags from the van and discovered money, weapons, and other stolen property inside.
By then, several news crews had arrived outside the police barricades. Their cameras recorded officers leading the web-covered criminals out of the warehouse, many of whom still had strands of webbing stuck to their clothes. Spider-Man moved among the SWAT officers, helping remove abandoned weapons and clearing safe paths through the damaged entrance.
The SWAT commander approached Peter once the final suspect had been placed inside a police transport. "You saved two of my officers, gave us the opening we needed, and prevented those men from escaping," he said while offering Peter his hand. "We couldn't have secured that warehouse without you."
Peter shook the commander's hand as the news cameras focused on them. "You would've found a way," he replied. "I just brought the webs and the incredibly handsome moving shield." The commander laughed and thanked him again.
The warehouse raid appeared on nearly every news channel within the hour. At Oscorp, Gwen sat across from Max Dillon in the employee cafeteria as the television above the serving counter showed officers leading the captured gunmen outside. Several of the criminals were still covered in thick white webbing, while Spider-Man stood near the SWAT commander and helped clear weapons from the entrance.
Gwen tried to hide her proud smile as the reporter described how Spider-Man had rescued two injured officers before helping SWAT secure the building. Only a few hours earlier, she had watched Peter work on his suit in the basement,
"That guy is incredible," Max said, completely forgetting about his lunch as he stared at the screen. "I'm a huge Spider-Man fan. Most heroes wait for some enormous threat before they show up, but he helps with everything. He stops robberies, rescues people, and even stays behind to help clean up afterward."
"You sound like you've given this a lot of thought," Gwen replied, carefully keeping her tone casual. Max glanced away from the television and smiled somewhat awkwardly, embarrassed by his excitement.
"I know it probably sounds stupid, but I admire what he's doing," Max explained. "Spider-Man hasn't been around very long, and people still don't know what to think of him, but he keeps risking his life for complete strangers. The other day he was nearly killed, and today he's already back out there helping police officers."
Gwen looked toward the television as the footage showed Peter shaking the SWAT commander's hand. "That doesn't sound stupid," she said softly. "I think Spider-Man would be happy to know that someone appreciates what he's trying to do."
Across the city, the same news report played on an old television mounted above a crowded bar. The customers fell silent when Hammerhead suddenly grabbed a wooden table and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall beneath the television, sending broken glasses and pieces of wood across the floor as everyone hurried away from him.
"That warehouse was one of my most important gun-storage sites!" Hammerhead roared into the phone pressed against his ear. "Now the cops have the weapons, the money, the records, and every idiot I paid to guard it! Do you understand how much Spider-Man just cost me?"
On the other end of the call, Talia al Ghul remained completely silent. Her lack of a response only made Hammerhead angrier, and he struck the bar hard enough to split part of its wooden surface. None of his men dared move or even look directly at him.
"I paid the League millions to kill that wall-crawling freak!" Hammerhead shouted. "Not poison him, not scare him, and not let him crawl home so he could come back and tear apart my operation! I want Spider-Man dead!"
"You paid for the death of a masked vigilante whose abilities you failed to properly understand," Talia answered coldly. "Your information did not mention his accelerated healing, resistance to poison, or his connection to Batman. Despite that, the contract remains active."
Hammerhead's expression tightened at the warning in her voice, but he refused to back down. "Then finish it," he growled. "Because every day Spider-Man is alive, he takes something else from me."
"Do not mistake the League for one of your street gangs," Talia warned. "You will receive Spider-Man's death when we have prepared a method capable of ensuring it. Until then, control your temper and protect what remains of your organization." The call ended before Hammerhead could respond.
Hammerhead tightened his hand around the phone until the casing cracked between his fingers. "Enjoy the attention while it lasts, Spider-Man," he muttered. "Sooner or later, someone's going to find a way to crush you."
Talia ended the call and lowered the phone, only to sense that she was no longer alone. She slowly turned around and found Batman standing near the opposite wall of the dimly lit room, his cape blending into the shadows behind him. Robin stood a few feet to his right with his staff already drawn, watching every movement she made.
Talia showed no surprise at finding them inside her temporary safe house. Instead, a faint smile appeared on her face as she placed the phone on a nearby table. "Still entering without an invitation, beloved?" she asked. "Some habits never change."
"Why is the League after Spider-Man?" Batman demanded, ignoring the familiar greeting. Talia calmly walked toward him as if Robin weren't preparing for an attack. "The answer is considerably less interesting than you seem to believe," she replied. "The League was hired to eliminate him."
Batman remained motionless as she stopped directly in front of him. "How much?" he asked. Talia's smile widened before she placed one hand against the armored bat symbol on his chest, allowing her fingers to slowly move across its surface.
"Fifteen million dollars," Talia answered softly. "Spider-Man has made powerful enemies remarkably quickly. Someone believes removing him from New York is worth a small fortune."
Robin stared at her in disbelief. "Fifteen million dollars for one vigilante?" he asked. "Whoever hired you must be terrified of what Spider-Man is doing to their operation."
"Spider-Man has disrupted several profitable businesses, humiliated established criminals, and survived a poison that has killed far more experienced opponents," Talia replied. "Fear is an entirely reasonable response."
"Who placed the contract?" Batman asked. Talia returned her attention to him, though her expression revealed nothing. "You know the League does not reveal the identities of its clients," she answered. "Not even to you."
Batman caught her wrist and removed her hand from his armor. "Cancel the contract." His voice remained quiet, but the command carried enough weight to erase the amusement from Talia's face.
"The League accepted fifteen million dollars and gave its word," Talia said. "My father will not abandon the agreement because you have taken an interest in its target. Spider-Man will remain marked until the contract is fulfilled or the client withdraws it."
"Your first attempt failed," Robin reminded her. "The poison didn't kill him, your assassins were defeated, and now he knows the League is hunting him. The next attack won't catch him by surprise."
Talia glanced toward Robin before looking back at Batman. "Then the next attack will be designed with that knowledge in mind. The League does not repeat its mistakes."
"It won't get another opportunity," Batman warned. "Spider-Man is under my protection. Any assassin sent after him will have to deal with us first."
Talia took a slow step backward, her faint smile returning. "You cannot remain in New York forever, beloved. Sooner or later, Gotham will demand your attention, and the League has learned to be patient."
Batman held Talia's gaze for several seconds before turning toward the open window. Without another word, he fired his grappling hook toward a nearby rooftop and disappeared into the night. Robin remained behind just long enough to give Talia one final warning look before following him across the surrounding buildings.
Talia stood motionless as she watched them leave, listening until the faint sound of their grappling lines vanished into the distance. Batman's warning had not frightened her, but it had complicated the contract. Continuing the hunt while he remained in New York would only invite another confrontation before the League was properly prepared.
A hidden door opened behind her, and one of the League's assassins entered the room. The man approached silently before dropping to one knee and lowering his head. "What are your orders?" he asked. "Our people are ready to move against Spider-Man whenever you command it."
"Stand down," Talia replied as she walked toward the window. "Spider-Man is to be left alone until Batman returns to Gotham. No attacks, no attempts to poison him, and no unnecessary contact."
The assassin lifted his head slightly. "And until then?" he asked. Talia looked across the New York skyline, her expression becoming cold and calculating.
"Continue observing him from a distance, but do nothing that might alert either of them," she ordered. "Batman cannot remain in this city forever. Gotham will eventually demand his return, and when it does, we will resume the contract on our terms."
The assassin bowed his head once more. "As you command." He rose and disappeared through the hidden doorway, leaving Talia alone with the lights of New York stretching beyond the window.
"Enjoy his protection while it lasts, Spider-Man," Talia whispered. "Once the Bat returns to Gotham, the League will come for you again."
Peter performed a quick patrol after leaving the warehouse, swinging through several neighborhoods before turning toward home. It should have been an uneventful trip, but halfway across the city he felt that familiar sensation of unseen eyes following him from the surrounding rooftops. His entire body tensed as he remembered the League's ambush, and he immediately raised his guard in preparation for another attack.
He changed directions several times, occasionally doubling back or dropping between buildings without warning, hoping to force whoever was following him into revealing themselves. Every now and then, Peter caught a glimpse of movement in the distance, but his spider-sense never warned him of an immediate attack. Whoever was watching him seemed interested only in observing from far away.
Peter continued patrolling until he found an isolated building where the uncomfortable sensation finally disappeared. He waited several minutes and searched every nearby rooftop before entering an abandoned maintenance room. Once he was certain that no one had followed him, he changed into his ordinary clothes, hid his suit inside his backpack, and walked the rest of the way home.
Peter stepped through the front door and accidentally shut it far louder than he intended. The sound echoed through the house, causing MJ to groan from the kitchen as though someone had struck her over the head. She was sitting at the table with a bowl of soup, several pieces of toast, and a large glass of water.
"Could you be quiet?" MJ complained as she held both sides of her aching head. "Every sound in this house feels like it's trying to kill me."
Peter laughed as he walked past her. "That's what you get for drinking so much," he replied. "You threw up on me several times, ruined one of my favorite shirts, and spent most of the trip home calling me your royal carriage. I think I'm allowed to close one door loudly."
MJ lowered her head until her forehead nearly touched the table. "I don't remember any of that, so it doesn't count." Peter grinned before telling her that Gwen would be coming over after work. He asked MJ to let her inside when she arrived, then headed into the basement before she could object.
Peter sat at his computer and returned to the unfinished HUD program. He reorganized the display, removed anything that covered too much of his vision, and attempted to connect the system to his phone. After working for nearly an hour, sitting normally began to feel uncomfortable, so he grabbed his notebook and crawled into the upper corner of the room.
By the time Gwen arrived, MJ reluctantly answered the door and pointed toward the basement. "He's downstairs doing something strange," she muttered before returning to the kitchen. "If he's hanging from the ceiling, don't ask me why."
Gwen walked down the basement steps and found the computer running, but Peter's chair was empty. She heard the faint scratching of a pencil above her and looked toward the ceiling. Peter was sitting upside down in the top corner of the room with his back and feet attached to the walls, scribbling calculations and interface designs into his notebook.
Peter finally noticed her and smiled before closing the notebook. He released his grip on the walls, flipped in the air, and landed lightly in front of her. "Hey," he said as he stepped closer. "How was your day?"
"It was fine," Gwen answered before glancing at the loose wires, dismantled electronics, and sketches covering his workbench. "Max spent most of lunch talking about how much he admires Spider-Man, so I had to sit there pretending I didn't know the person he was praising. What exactly are you building now?"
Peter picked up his mask and showed her the inside of one white eye lens. "I'm trying to install a heads-up display inside the goggles," he explained. "The first version will connect to my phone so I can see who's calling without pulling it out while I'm swinging or fighting someone."
He turned toward the computer and brought up a rough model of the display. "I also want a camera that records everything I see. That way, I can review fights afterward, study how someone moves, or give the police a recording of what happened. Eventually, I could add maps, police alerts, and an indicator showing which setting my web-shooter is using."
"The problem is making everything small enough to fit inside the goggles without blocking my vision," Peter continued. "The camera creates too much heat, the battery takes up too much room, and the code keeps losing its connection to my phone. When it does connect, the video either freezes or appears several seconds late."
Gwen leaned forward and kissed him before looking more closely at the unfinished device. "I'm sorry I can't be much help with this," she admitted. "Hardware and coding aren't really my subjects. I know far more about chemistry and biological science."
"You don't have to apologize," Peter replied as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're already helping by listening to me complain. Besides, once I start improving the web-shooter, I'll probably need someone who understands the chemical and biological properties of my webbing better than I do."
Gwen glanced toward the chair covered in thick webs from Peter's earlier test. "Considering you glued your furniture to the wall, I'd say you definitely need help." Peter followed her gaze and gave an embarrassed shrug.
"The chair knew the risks when it volunteered for science," Peter said seriously. Gwen laughed and kissed him again while the unfinished HUD continued flickering across the computer monitor behind them.
After spending a little longer examining Peter's unfinished HUD designs, Gwen convinced him to take a break. They went upstairs, found a movie neither of them had seen before, and settled together on the living-room couch. Peter stretched one arm along the back of the couch, and Gwen immediately moved closer until she was resting comfortably against his chest.
They barely paid attention to the first half of the movie. Peter kept playing with Gwen's hair while she traced small circles against his hand, and every few minutes one of them would lean in for another kiss. Whenever the movie became quiet, they whispered jokes to each other until MJ groaned from the nearby chair and told them they were being unbearably lovey-dovey.
"You're only annoyed because your head still hurts," Peter replied, pulling Gwen slightly closer. "No, I'm annoyed because I'm trying to watch a movie while the two of you act like you're in a completely different one," MJ muttered before throwing a cushion at them. Peter caught it without looking and placed it behind Gwen's back, which only made MJ groan again.
As the sun began setting, headlights appeared through the front window and a car stopped outside the house. Gwen glanced toward the vehicle and sighed when she recognized her father behind the wheel. She reluctantly stood, but Peter caught her hand and pulled her back long enough to give her one final kiss.
George knocked on the door a few moments later, and Peter opened it while Gwen collected her things. George looked past him toward the couch, then at the way Gwen was still holding Peter's hand. His expression remained calm, but the slight narrowing of his eyes made Peter stand a little straighter.
"Have a good evening, Peter," George said as Gwen stepped onto the porch. "You too, Captain Stacy," Peter replied politely. Gwen kissed Peter on the cheek before following her father to the car, promising that she would message him when she got home.
Once they drove away, Peter returned to the basement and sat at his computer. The break had helped clear his mind, and he quickly found several mistakes in the code responsible for connecting the HUD to his phone. After correcting them, he managed to make a caller's name appear in the corner of the display without covering the rest of his vision.
The recording system proved more difficult, but Peter eventually connected a miniature camera to the storage program on his phone. The image quality wasn't perfect, and the small battery would only last a few hours, but the prototype could record everything he saw while wearing the mask. That would be enough for a first test.
Peter carefully installed the components behind the white lenses of his mask and pulled it over his head. A small display flickered to life in the corner of his vision, showing the time, his remaining battery power, and the word RECORDING. He turned his head several times, relieved that the information remained visible without obstructing his sight.
"It's bulky, the battery is terrible, and there's a chance it'll crash the first time someone calls me," Peter said as he examined himself in the mirror. "But for something made from an old phone and a broken camera, I'm calling it progress."
He changed into the rest of his suit, secured the web-shooter over his wrist, and placed Batman's emergency device inside a protected pocket. Before leaving, Peter checked the police scanner and found nothing serious happening nearby. He opened the basement window, crawled outside, and fired a natural web line toward the nearest building.
Night had settled over New York by the time Spider-Man began his patrol. The new HUD quietly recorded the city rushing beneath him as he swung between the buildings, while Peter remained alert for both ordinary crime and the hidden observers he had sensed earlier. For the first time, if someone attacked him from the shadows, he might have a recording that could help him discover who they were.