Brotherhood
by Matt Morwell
A/N: This is my first Spider-Man fic. I hope you enjoy it, as it took me a while to write. I'll be updating every couple of days or so.
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On a dark, unseasonably warm fall night in the middle of Manhattan, a dark silhouette could be seen swinging through the sky, prowling the walls of the highest skyscrapers and the streets of the lowest alleys.
Spider-Man swung up high, hit the apex of his swing, released the web, let himself dangle in freefall for a moment, then pressed his center fingers into his palm, shooting out another webline. The line hit the underside of a gargoyle perch atop a cathedral, and Spider-Man quickly wrapped the web around his wrist before releasing the palm sensor; no sense in falling countless stories to the ground because of stupidity.
The momentum of his powerful swinging took him to a plane level with the gargoyle perch. He swung his legs out further, letting the line begin to wrap around the perch before releasing that one, as well.
He hung in freefall yet again, almost hovering above the gargoyle. Then, slowly, inexorably, gravity took over, and his feet touched down behind the gargoyle.
As if to tempt fate, he hunched down and sat on his heels, the toes of his red boots hanging an inch beyond the ledge. The slightest breeze or loss of equilibrium could easily send him over the edge.
Spider-Man began his watch.
Staring silently through the gigantic lenses of his mask, he paraphrased the old saying in his mind:Another day, another supervillain...
Many days had passed since he'd seen any trouble in this area, or in many others. Apparently he was having quite the effect on the crime rates, or so he liked to believe. After all, there were also the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, as well as a host of numerous others all ready to defend this fair city from its unfair antagonists.
That aside, he had a feeling that this place might bring him the satisfaction of knowing that he was helping out the people of Manhattan in his own way. He almost ached to take out a couple of mooks waiting in dark alleys; to see that there wasn't much trouble was a good sign, but on the other hand, if there was no trouble being caused, there was little point in him donning the heat-trapping scale mesh costume every evening to go out and battle phantoms.
He soon found that his feeling for this place, however, had been right. His sharp eyes caught the sight of a small motorcycle gang ripping through traffic, wielding chains, crowbars, baseball bats, and other assorted, unimaginative weapons.
... or perhaps just your average, uneventful day...
He crouched even lower for a moment, then shoved off the ledge, freefalling down to the center of the action.
The gang had by this time chosen their target, a typical New York taxi with a pair of bejeweled, aristocratic-looking people, scared out of their wits. The gang was circling the car, and bystanders -- as well as other cars -- kept their distance.
The taxi driver got out in a rush of defiance; a massive mistake. One of the gang lashed out at the driver with his chain and caught the man in the face, knocking him to the street in a spray of blood.
The gang member dismounted his bike, chuckling sadistically, and raised his chain above his head, intent on beating the cabbie further...
When a spider-web shot out and caught the ganger's arm in its super-adhesive grip.
The line began to rapidly retract, yanking the confused and misguided teenager into the air. He screamed in surprise and fear, for he suddenly realized who was doing this.
Spider-Man, clinging upside-down to the wall of a nearby office building, dragged the protesting boy all the way up to his position, then detached his webline. One strong hand gripping the boy's shirt was all that was saving him.
The boy couldn't see Spider-Man's face behind the mask or the reflective surfacing of his lenses, but he knew exactly what he was going to do if the man let him go.
Spider-Man knew it, too.
But he wasn't about to let the boy do it. Not when he'd committed such a brutal act.
Spider-Man suddenly detached himself from the wall, flipping around in the air and hitting the ground nearly thirty feet below his original position, taking the boy with him.
Before any of the other startled gangers could react, Spider-Man slammed the boy against the wall and sprayed him neck to foot in web, rendering him immobile.
One ganger shouted, "Get him!"
Spider-Man's shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily as he turned around. "We've got a learning disability, here."
The first ganger rushed up with a crowbar, powering forward with what he clearly thought was a lightning-quick, rock-solid hit.
Spider-Man's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he watched the boy's movements...
Relied on his spider sense...
A sudden flash went off behind his eyeballs...
He reached out and wrapped his hand around the crowbar mid-swing, stopping it directly in its tracks.
The ganger was not so lucky. He kept moving, and he tried to hold on to the crowbar. He moved straight around Spider-Man's outstretched arm, having expected an attack, and then ended up flat on his back by the sudden inertia of his weapon.
Spider-Man flipped the crowbar around and jammed its straight end into the concrete of the sidewalk next to the kid's neck, then forced it down with his foot until the arch of the bar was pressing against the attacker's larynx.
Another flash went off behind his eyes, and without even looking up from the first ganger, his upturned fist shot out like a piledriver, catching a second attacker just under the diaphragm. The man doubled up, gasping in pain, and crumpled to the ground.
A third attacker, this one with a baseball bat, ran up screaming. Spider-Man grinned sadly and shook his head as the ganger moved. "All spirit... but no brawn and no brain."
He caught the baseball bat in his hand just as he had done with the crowbar the crowbar, but he gave some ground to the ganger just for kicks.
Literally.
A split-second later, a red boot put sixteen feet between Spider-Man and his attacker. It also put a considerable amount of tobacco-laced carbon dioxide in the air where the attacker's face had been.
A scream pierced the hot night.
Spider-Man snapped his head around and saw that two gang members, paying no attention to the fight, were trying to wrestle the couple still inside the taxi from the vehicle.
Barely an instant passed before two lines of web were dragging the gangers backward across the pavement, well away from the taxi.
The gangers were roughly hauled to their feet by the webslinger.
Another flash behind the eyes.
Two red-gloved hands reached out and bashed the gangers' heads together.
A faint glow appeared on the periphery of Spider-Man's ethereal vision. It meant danger was imminent, but not direct just yet.
He turned to the street and saw the source of his spider sense's agitation. The final gang member was still mounted on his bike, holding a lead pipe in his right hand. "You can stop a crowbar, Spider-Man, but can you stop this?!"
The bike's engine revved, and the ganger sped towards the webslinger full throttle.
The bike bore down on its target.
Spider-Man made a prodigious leap, shooting a webline downward as he did so. At the same time, he fired another line toward a building on the other side of the street, hoping he didn't get ripped in two by the improvised act.
The first web caught the back of biker's neck dead-on, and pulled him upward. The biker yelled and instinctively held on to his bike, which rose into the air with him as the second webline caught the building. The biker quickly realized he couldn't carry the weight, and he dropped the bike, which promptly bounced on its tires and landed noisily on its side.
The biker saw a wall come rushing up to him.
It was the last thing he saw.
Spider-Man released both weblines and landed next to the downed biker. He crouched low over the punk, waved his fingers tauntingly, and uttered, "Nighty-night."
He looked over his shoulder to see that a cadre of Good Samaritans had taken to the street, trying to help the injured cabbie and reassure the terrified couple.
He thought this all well and good. He had done his part; it was time to go.
A webline sailed through the air to strike a random building, and Spider-Man left the scene.
***
Two dark figures stood quietly in an alley near the scene of the fight. One pale set of eyes was full of pain, determination, and calculation. The other set glowed yellow, their slitted pupils filled with confidence, contempt, and malice.
"Look at them," said a youthful feminine voice, echoing through the alley. "First they cower from such minor impudence, then they huddle around those they believe to be of use."
"They are nothing if not hypocritical," agreed a second voice, this one older and more distinguished. More meticulous. "But he has great potential. Potential that we need to harness."
"He protects them," she hissed. "I say this is a lost cause. You're wasting your time with him."
"It will take only... minor incidents to change his mind," he replied patiently. "He is the target of as much scandal and controversy as we are. It will be a simple matter. Keep an eye on him, but be careful."
One figure rose into the air, unaided by any known mechanics.
The other faded from view.
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Drama! Please review.