Thwip!
One line at a time.
Thwip!
Before he lets go of one, he connects another, ensuring that his momentum continues. Another cold night, and the freezing winds are only enhanced by the speed he gains swinging across the city. The lack of proper clothing for conditions such as this would definitely bother someone else but not him. He's used to the bitter cold feeling of the wind, to the blistering snow, through the rain, the humidity, scorching summer day, and even in the toughest storms, he is used to slinging himself across open air wearing the dark and skin tight clothing that he does. No weather condition hampers him down.
"Look ma, it's him!" a young boy down below shouts out as he points at the web slinger. "It's Spider-Man!"
"No, honey, that's not him," the mother responds, pulling her child closer to her as the shadow from the sky swings pass them. "That's an impostor."
It's not the first time he's heard that and it won't be the last. Frankly, he doesn't care. He stopped caring about what people think of him the moment he decided to put his web shooters back on. A year and a few months of grieving, hours and hours of guilt, and the never-ending moment where he heard the collision of her head on the concrete floor—she was all that mattered to him. It was his fault. It was because he was too soft, too naïve, and inept. Peter wanted to rectify those mistakes the second he decided to go back out in the world as Spider-man. He wanted to make sure that Gwen Stacy's death meant something other than the guilt he keeps with him.
Something catches his sixth sense: a scream for help a few blocks away.
Quickly redirecting himself by spinning another line of web, Spider-Man swings the direction of the disturbance on full speed. Within minutes, he lands on top of a building where right across from him is a clichéd scene he has seen too many times before. Inside a building, Spider-Man observes as two masked men are stalking a woman who is clearly afraid for her life, trying desperately to use any obstruction (furniture, or what not) she can to prevent the men from getting any closer. The rope and duct tape in their hands clearly points out what their purpose is. As to why she is the victim, Peter doesn't need to know. With a leap, Spider-Man crashes through the window, landing between the thugs and the woman—causing all three to gawk at his direction. The woman lets out a plea, indicating the obvious that she needs help. Both nervous by the unannounced arrival of the wall crawling vigilante, the thugs reach for their firearms, hell-bent on making sure that they either kill Spider-Man or at least escape with their lives; but before they had the chance to even aim, Spider-Man makes his move. Using his web shooter to reel one of them in, Peter delivers an uppercut to the man's jaw, quickly knocking him out of the fight. The second one starts shooting but each fire shot are sloppy, barely forcing Parker to dodge them. Sticking to the ceiling after the last bullet whizzes pass him, Spider-Man takes the moment he needs to adjust his web shooter to the proper setting and fires back. The result of his attack is a painful growl as the webbing Spider-Man shot stiffened and impales the target; at this case, the said target is the man's arm. Sharp webs shaped like small spears protruding from the man's bicep and forearm, causes the thug to drop the gun and fall on his knees in pain. He may be conscious but the injuries are detrimental, obvious by the blood profusely pouring from them—the fight is over and the woman is safe.
"H-help…"
Or Peter thought she was safe. Focusing his attention behind him, he quickly sees the woman on the ground, bleeding around the naval area. The bullets missed him but one struck the woman giving her a mortal wound that will probably drain her of her life within minutes. Jumping to her side, Peter looks down on the woman as she groans in pain, desperately trying to utter more words, trying to grasp the last moments of what life she has left. She will die, and there is nothing Spider-Man can do about it. With eyes narrowing under the opaque makeshift eyes of his mask, Peter rushes towards the bleeding thug and aggressively lifts him by his neck.
"Aar… stop! I… I give… up!" the words barely came out as the man chokes from Spider-Man's unremitting grip.
"I don't take prisoners."
With those words, Spider-Man aims his free hand on the open mouth of the thug and let loose lines and lines of webbing. The man tries to resist, but within seconds, the act fills him up and he soon chokes to death. When the deed is done, Spider-Man spends a few seconds staring at the body he is holding; just like the woman he tried to save, the man is dead. In more ways than one, both died because of him tonight. At least one of them for sure deserved it. With that thought in mind, Peter throws the corpse to the side and walks over to the unconscious criminal who will probably wake up with a broken jaw due to the force Peter threw into the punch. Spider-Man's old tactic after deterring crimes such as these would usually entails leaving 'gifts' in the form of unconscious thugs in front of the police station. He would find some way to form his signature web, stringing them up like a fly on a web. More than once after his return, Spider-Man contemplated on those charades—remembering their purpose and why they are more than just to show the people of New York that he can 'do whatever a spider can'. It was a moral code that he took on—if he could help it, killing is not an option. He was not an executioner—a moral obligation to do good deeds but never to stoop to the level of evil those heinous men would commit.
That was the obsolete, naïve, and inept Spider-man's methods. So they spend a few years or less behind bars? Sooner or later they would be out on the street doing the only things they knew how. Taking a glance at the woman whom he wasn't able to save, Spider-Man drags the unconscious thug to edge of the 'makeshift' door he made and without a single thought, Peter drops the man to his death some few feet down below. No signature fly on the web, no wasted time taking him to the nearest police station, and no chances of the thug getting back on the streets. This is the permanent solution; this is Spider-Man's method now.
Thwip!
Shooting another line of web, Spider-man slings himself across the sky, hoping that the next scene he finds will be better than this one.
1:21 a.m. The graveyard is usually empty at this time, usually. This night however, a lone figure stands over a tombstone, staring at it despondently. It has been said that the particular person buried underneath the said tombstone often has a visitor that is not of the norm. At strange times, people would see a shadow of a man looming over the person's grave but in a blink of an eye he is gone. Though one would clearly see that tonight it's not a man visiting the grave—it's a woman.
"I couldn't save you," she whispers to herself for the hundredth time as she stares at the name on the tombstone. "I tried, but I couldn't."
The name on the tombstone is all too familiar since it is also her name. Gwen Stacy, aka Spider-Woman, never really thought about how it would feel to see her name written on a tombstone. As of right now, there are a myriad of emotions drowning her, forcing her to slide the hood and the mask off of her face. Sadness is for sure a prominent feeling; reading all the things that this Gwen was about definitely evokes more than enough feelings such as sorrow. This Gwen was a loving daughter, a kind sister, a beloved friend, and one that was so young and yet achieved many things. She had a bright future ahead of her, but that future is now gone—buried just like her; much like Peter Parker of this Spider-Woman's world.
"How I feel right now," Gwen crouches down, touching the ground that this Gwen Stacy is buried under, "do you feel the same way Peter? Do you still keep that guilt with you everywhere you go? Or is it the guilt that takes you wherever it needs to go? Did it take over you already? Are you really too late to save so that you can join our fight?"
To Be Continued.