September

Friday, 12:35 P.M.

Peter sat at the lunch table in the cafeteria of Midtown High as he anxiously awaited the end of the school day. He had enjoyed a relatively low-key first week of school. His found most of his classes to be a breeze, and he enjoyed the increased time he had been spending with Harry and Gwen. However, his mind had been preoccupied for most of the week with thoughts of costumed crimefighting. Since confronting his uncle's killer just a week ago, Peter had felt motivated to continue his vigilante work and go on routine patrols. The new purpose he felt he had distracted him from his usual habits. He began spending more and more time locked away in his room, fine-tuning his web shooters and even working on a new costume. If he was going to make a habit of fighting crime late at night, he would have to upgrade from the modest navy blue tights and red ski mask he had previously worn. It took him several days to stitch together a new suit, but he had recently just completed it and thought it was magnificent. He kept the same red and blue color scheme and even got creative by putting a large black spider symbol on his chest. He wanted criminals to remember who he was. But Peter's strange hours and routine had caused some concern from Aunt May. She just assumed that her nephew was still reeling from Uncle Ben's death. It had been a very solemn couple days in the Parker household, and even May was still struggling to cope with the loss of her husband. But her grief for herself was outweighed by what she felt for Peter. She could not even imagine how Ben's death was affecting him, especially since Peter already had lost his parents. Despite her concerns she chose to let him be and give him the space she thought he needed for now.

Harry and Gwen also noticed a slight change in Peter as of late. Ever since the incident at Flash Thompson's party they were quick to notice differences in his attitude and demeanor. Peter never had an outburst like that before. To them he seemed distant, but they also assumed he was just struggling with his uncle's death. But they were good friends, and they cared very much about Peter. They too chose not to press the issue of Peter strange behavior, instead choosing to just be there for him if he needed the support.

"Hey, Pete. What do you got going on tonight?" Harry asked from across the table. He and Peter sat at the end of the cafeteria table several seats down from some other students. By now everyone had heard about Peter's fight with Flash and the other students were hesitant to approach him. Even Flash's gang failed to deliver their usual torments to Peter.

"Not sure. Might just hang out at home, honestly," he replied. Peter was not in the mood to go out with Harry. His thoughts were consumed with his alter-ego. He had spent a couple nights swinging about his neighborhood, getting more of a feel for his powers. But that was the only practice he had gotten. Peter was itching to find some action.

"Well, if you want you can come over to my place and hang out. But if you want to be with your aunt that's okay. I understand."

"Harry, I know we haven't really talked about this…just because it's a sensitive subject I'm sure for a lot of people," Peter started. Harry looked at him curiously.

"But I'm fine. I promise. What happened really sucked…a lot," he said, looking down.

"But my aunt and I are working through it. It's alright man, really."

Harry flashed a big grin. "Good. I'm glad things are getting better."

The two were soon joined at the table by Gwen. Peter shifted in his seat nervously as she took the seat across from him. Gwen Stacy was still the only thing that managed to distract Peter from his thoughts of web swinging.

"Hey you two," she said sweetly. "What's the word? Any plans tonight?" she said as she looked at Harry and Peter.

"Pete and I were just talking about maybe coming over to my place," Harry said. "But of course the mystery man might be up to something else," he said teasingly towards Peter.

Peter laughed nervously. "I mean…nothing's really a mystery. I might just take it easy. It's been a hell of a week."

"I'm sure," Gwen said softly. Peter blushed as she stared at him sympathetically. There was an uncomfortable silence and Harry looked at the two of them staring at each other. He covered his mouth with his hand as he smirked. He had wanted so long for Gwen and Peter to get together. He saw Gwen as a sister and the perfect girl to help his best friend branch out.

"I mean, I'm sure it has been a rough week," said Gwen, breaking the silence. "You must be awfully tired Peter Parker." Peter was confused, as he wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"Hitting the weights so hard and everything," she then said. "Don't think I didn't notice that muscle," she said playfully. Harry laughed.

"Yeah, man. You're looking pretty ripped," he said. He then leaned in closer so only the three of them could hear. "I know we've been kinda beating around the bush about this but…is that how you managed to kick Flash Thompson's ass?" Peter and Gwen laughed.

"Oh, man. I don't know," Peter said, laughing. "I think Flash got what had been coming to him."

"There you go, Pete!" Gwen said as she playfully slapped his arm. Peter's eyes met hers and he felt a chill go down his spine. After another awkward silence he excused himself and got up to go to the bathroom. Harry turned to Gwen with a huge grin.

"Oh, would you stop?" she said, laughing.

Peter sat in the bathroom stall. He opened up his backpack and took out his webshooters.

Let me make sure these are calibrated properly. Gotta love multitasking.

His focus was broken when he heard the bathroom door open and two boys walk in. One of them lit up a cigarette. He was a new student and Peter didn't know him very well, but he had a feeling that he was trouble.

"Hey, dude. Don't smoke in here. We're gonna get caught," the other student said. Peter recognized him as Randy Robertson. Peter had a quiet respect for Randy because he was always very nice to Peter, despite normally rolling with Flash and his goons. Peter kept quiet and listened in.

"Relax, man. They wouldn't do anything even if they did catch us," the new student said.

"Alright, just…what did you want to tell me?" Randy asked. He sounded a little nervous.

"The big deal going down on 125th tonight. You want in?" Peter suddenly was very interested.

I knew this guy was a jerk. He's got trouble written all over him. Why does Randy hang out with these guys?

"Dude…I don't know. It sounds pretty intense. My dad would so not be cool with that."

"Who said your dad's gotta know, square? Just tell him you're going to…fuckin' Flash's or something, I don't know. Look, listen. When I say 'big deal' I mean big. I'm talking commish in the double digits, homie."

Randy laughed. "Yeah, you know I love that commi-shun."

"Seriously, bro. This is the one. Besides, I know a guy. He's a real big shot. He's gonna be running the whole operation. The guy's a legend man, I'm telling you. No one fucks with this dude. So we're set. He'll take good care of us. Get in, get out, and you're back before curfew."

Randy paused and rubbed the back of his head in thought. "Okay…sounds good. Pick me up at my house and we'll head over."

"Yes! Robertson, you're the man! Eleven o' clock. Yes? Sound good?"

"Yeah, man. Sounds good. I'll see you at eleven."

The boys high fived and checked themselves in the mirror before leaving. Peter could hardly contain his excitement. Whatever was going down sounded good, and it sounded illegal. It was the perfect opportunity for some action.

Yeah, sounds good guys. I'll see you at eleven, too. Hope you don't mind.

10:50 P.M.

Peter stared at himself in the mirror as he stood in the middle of his room. He was ready. He could feel it. There was an excitement that overcame him like nothing ever had before. He stood in his freshly-sewn costume, holding his mask in his hands. He lived five minutes from the Robertson's, and savored these last few minutes to prepare himself for the night ahead. He wasn't sure what he was going to encounter, but he wanted to be ready. There wouldn't be any mistakes tonight. It had been hard enough to hide his bullet wound from Aunt May. He threw on some street clothes over his costume and stuffed his mask in his back pocket. He headed downstairs to find Aunt May.

"Hey Aunt May, I'm heading out. I told Harry that I would spend the night at his place."

Aunt May turned off the television and turned to better look at Peter. Normally she would not have approved of him going out so late, but she was happy he was getting out of the house and seeing his friends.

"Oh, good. I'm glad. Harry's a very nice boy."

"Yeah, Harry's the man," Peter said.

"And you're alright, aren't you dear?" she asked softly.

Peter went over to the couch his aunt was sitting on a gave her a hug. "I'm fine Aunt May, I promise."

They held their embrace and looked at each other. "Yeah?" Peter asked his aunt in return. She paused slightly.

"Yes. Slowly but surely. Things will be alright. I just…I worry about you, Peter." Peter slightly felt guilty now.

"Don't worry about me, Aunt May. I'll be okay."

"I love you very much, Peter," she said to him.

"I love you too Aunt May."

Peter gave his aunt a final hug and ran out the door. He would need to move quickly. He did not want to miss Randy's ride. It was a quick swing over to his house, and Peter crouched quietly on an adjacent rooftop. Before long a car pulled up and Randy came out. He got in the car and they sped off.

"There's my cue," Peter said. He swung off behind the car, keeping it in his sight while keeping a safe distance. He didn't want to give himself away just yet. He still needed to make sure that the boys were doing something shady. He followed the car across the bridge towards uptown Manhattan. The car turned on 125th and pulled into an alleyway shortly afterwards. Peter perched himself on a rooftop overlooking the alleyway. Randy and the other student pulled their car up to several other cars parked across from three white vans. Several other men were already present. Peter scanned the alleyway, planning out his tactics. He then turned his attention to one of the men in particular. He was wearing a plain back t-shirt, with the exception of a skull and crossbones insignia on the back. Peter eyes widened beneath his mask in shock.

Are these the same group of guys from the warehouse last week? This has got to be a street gang or something. These guys are definitely up to no good.

"Yo, what's up fellas," said Randy's friend. "This is my boy, Randy. Rand, these are the Crossbones, dude."

The Crossbones? No doubt one of the premier powers on the seedy streets of Harlem.

"How's it going guys?" Randy said nervously. He then leaned in close to his friend. "Dude, you didn't say anything about gangs or whatever."

"I told you I know a guy. What did you think I meant? Look, relax man. It'll be cool. It's not like you've gotta join or anything."

"Oh, but son…we'd love to have him," said a deep, gravelly voice from behind one of the vans. All the men assembled came to a halt at once and turned their attention to the man speaking. Peter gasped in shock at what he saw. A very tall and very broad man came into the light. He was a hulking albino man and at least six and a half feet tall. His arms bulged underneath the black suit and tie he was wearing. He had a powerfully frightening presence.

Whoa…look at this guy. He must be the one that kid was talking about. The one nobody messes with. Yeah I guess he does look pretty nasty. He's pretty huge.

"Why wouldn't we want young mister Robertson?" the man said. "He comes from a great pedigree. He'd probably serve our operation well." Randy was confused, but he was too afraid of the man to ask questions.

"You two!" he shouted, pointing to Randy and his friend. "Get that garage door open. The rest of you…load the vans," he snarled. "Make it fast. We're out of here in less than fifteen minutes." Randy and his friend struggled to open the door of the large garage that lay at the opposite end of the alley. After much effort, they slid the door up to reveal an eighteen-wheeler parked inside. The large albino man walked over to the truck's cargo hold and flung the doors open. Stacks of what Peter though looked like cocaine filled the truck.

"Leave nothing," he directed.

The men at once began loading the drugs into the three white vans parked in the alley. Peter crept down the side of the building, staying in the shadows while observing the gang. He noticed that more and more of them wore the crossbones insignia. He felt angry again all of a sudden. His uncle's killer was housed by this gang, and now they wanted to deal drugs in the city. Peter was outraged. He wanted to shut them down for good. With the albino distracted in the garage, Peter leapt down from his perch and landed atop a van surrounded by several thugs.

"Hey, who invited you guys to the party," he said sarcastically, taunting them.

Peter looked down at one below him and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up by his arm to eye level.

"Peekaboo!" he shouted.

The thug face turned to one of fear and confusion at seeing this person in red and blue tights before him. Holding him by the wrist now, Peter sent his free fist into the thug's nose. He hit it just right, as it shattered under the extreme force. The man was knocked out instantly. Peter was angry. The Crossbones took his uncle from him. He wasn't going to let them hurt anybody else. He dropped the unconscious thug and flipped off the van and dropped in between two other gang members. Turning to one, Peter shot a web at his chest and yanked him closer. He caught him by the throat and grasped him with both hands. Then spinning, he effortlessly threw him into the thug positioned behind him. The two were sent toppling back into the side of another van. Peter's head began to buzz, and he sensed a thug charging at him from behind. Peter instinctively ducked under the man's slashing knife. Peter spun and shot up to face him. The man brought his arm back and sent his knife straight for Peter's chest. The intense buzz in Peter's head gave him incredible focus, and the thug's knife seemingly moved in slow motion. Without any effort at all Peter grasped the man's forearm and drove the knife over his shoulder. Peter then sent a left hook into the thug's elbow. His arm snapped under the force of Peter's impacting fist. He yelped out in pain and slumped to the ground.

"Oh man…I thought that only happened in the movies. Sorry man," Peter said, laughing.

Meanwhile, in the resulting chaos several of the remaining gang members fled the scene in fear. Randy and his friend took shelter behind a dumpster in the alleyway. Randy was taking pictures of the brawl from his camera phone.

"Okay, I think that's enough," the albino man said to himself. He walked into the garage and picked up a pipe from the ground. Turning back, he steadily approached the scene where Peter was engaged with several gang members.

"I don't suppose you guys are moving sugar packets with those vans," Peter shouted. "No? Too much to hope for? Oh, well."

Peter sprang into the air backwards and somersaulted over a thug, shooting a web at his shoulders as he went. He landed in front of another and yanked the webs in toward his chest, throwing the man to the ground. Another charged at him and threw a left hook at him. Peter blocked it and ducked under a second punch. He swept his leg at the man's shin, and there was a loud crack. The thug fell to the ground, grasping his knee in pain. Peter then sprang up from the ground and onto the man's back. He pulled him up with one hand while still holding the webline in the other. He pulled the web forcefully and yanked the writhing thug on the ground into the one standing before him. He ducked as they were both sent hurdling over him. The albino man made his move. Peter's head buzzed intensely and he spun to face the threat. Before he could react the albino man struck him across the face with a pipe. The impact shot through Peter's entire body.

Whoa, no wonder nobody messes with this guy. Not only does he look scary as hell, he packs a huge punch.

Peter grasped his cheek in pain. The albino stepped on the back of his leg to pin him, and grabbed his waist with both hands. They were massive. Peter writhed as they gripped into the sides of his abdomen. The albino picked him and swung him around with full force into the side of one of the white vans. Peter's forehead dented the vehicle and the windows shattered under the impact. Peter fell to the ground with a loud thud. As he came to his feet the albino sent his foot flying into his stomach, and his body slammed against the van again. The van nearly tipped over from the force. Peter was gasping for breath as the albino man stood menacingly over him. He had never been assaulted like that, not even by Flash. The man grasped his neck with his massive hand and dragged him along the ground into the garage. Peter had difficulty breathing under the strain of the grip. There was barely anything he could do as the sharp pain in his neck incapacitated his body.

"Chair, get the chair," the albino ordered. "Yo man, which one of those vans had the gas can in it? I can't believe this motherfucker's real."

He pulled Peter up and threw him into a wooden chair being held out by one of the gang members. Peter slammed into the chair and his body slumped. He could feel his wrists being tied together with a rope by the thug behind him. Peter gathered his strength to speak.

"In the flesh, baby," Peter said, laughing. The pain was slowly leaving his body. "Sure hope I don't disappoint."

The albino man paced about the garage before him. Another gang member came running in and handed him a gas canister. Peter took a gulp. He had seen enough movies to know where this was going. Whoever these guys were, they ran with the wrong kind of people.

"You know, when I heard from one of my boys that he and his crew got busted up last week by some dude in a costume, I almost didn't believe him," the albino boasted. "But look at this guy. You're not kidding, man. In the flesh. You know I should probably thank you. I mean, those guys you messed up. Thanks to you I know I can no longer employ them. Bad for business. The bones don't roll like that, know what I mean?" He was taunting Peter now.

"But unfortunately for you, at the end of the day… it's just not good business to keep letting you into our parties, understand? Even if you are just some punk in a costume, you gotta go. That's the way of the world."

"Hey, first you say you should thank me and then you call me a punk? What's the deal? How do you know I wasn't just auditioning for a spot in your crew?"

The albino stopped. He looked intrigued. "Is that right?" he asked.

Peter let out a hearty laugh. "No way, dude. I'm just messing with you. You guys are assholes."

The albino man laughed as well. "You got a smart mouth. I like that. It really is too bad. I kinda like your style. But I also have a reputation to uphold. I can't just cut you loose." He closed in on Peter and drenched his body with gasoline. Peter remained silently still as his costume began to soak with gas. He was counting on the albino not knowing he had super-strength. He could easily break free from the rope around his wrists. Peter bided his time for the perfect moment to attack.

"Hey coming from you, I don't exactly take that as a compliment," Peter said. The albino man smirked. Peter realized now that the man was black. He found his presence to be ironically terrifying and unnerving. His skin shone ghost white in the darkness of the garage.

"Yeah…real smart mouth. You've got some game. You might've been able to make a killing on the streets if you rolled with the right crowd," he sneered.

"Yeah, what crowd is that?" Peter asked. He was trying to gather as much information as possible about the gang and this enforcer.

"No can do, web head. This crew would die before they talked."

"Some crew. You guys don't even have guns. I thought all the best street gangs were packing heat these days," Peter responded. The albino grabbed his head and pulled it back, staring right into his eyes.

"You're just…so stupid," the man said, laughing. "Job like this…no guns. Can't bullshit your way out a weapons charge. Everything else…it's all hearsay, rookie. Wise up." He poured gas at Peter feet and made a trail of gas as he walked away. He emptied the can and the floor, and tossed it the side. A thug handed him and lighter. He lit the flame and turned around to face Peter. Holding the lighter out he said he addressed Peter.

"Nothing personal freak."

"Yeah, just good business!" Peter shouted, as he flexed his back as hard as he could and tore the rope binding his wrist in one fluid motion. Coming to his feet, he looked the albino in the eye. He appeared to be in disbelief that he could have freed himself. In an instant Peter grabbed the chair behind him and hurled it at the albino. The man's strength had caught him off-guard earlier, but Peter would not be surprised this time. He had developed the perfect scheme to take him down while he sat hostage. The albino brushed off the hurtling chair and faced Peter. Peter ran at him at full speed and shot a webline in his face. He then slid underneath his hulking body between his legs. Peter pulled on the webline and spun him around by his face. Peter then launched both of his feet into the albino's knees. There was a sickening crack and the man's entire body shook at once. He let out a deep scream of pain, almost as if he was roaring. He fell to his knees gasping for air. The remaining thugs began to scatter as police sirens now blared in the distance. Peter looked out of the garage into the alley outside. The vans and all the drugs were still there, and several gang members writhed in pain on the ground. Peter did not go lightly on them. He wanted to make them pay for his uncle's death. His focus was broken by the sound of the albino chuckling. Peter turned and looked at him. He took a deep breath and squinted at Peter.

"Yeah…you think you some bad motherfucker, huh?"

Peter slowly got to his feet, breathing deeply. He had won. The thrill of victory was empowering to him.

"I am a bad motherfucker," he said in return.

The albino laughed. "I don't think so. You don't know what bad is."

Oh, yeah?" Peter said. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Bad is you, your mom, your dad, brother, sister…six feet under. You got friends? They're done too. You can forget about whatever life you thought you were gonna live. Your life doesn't belong to you anymore. You're a marked man…and we pay our debts."

"You keep talking about this 'we.' Spill it. What's your angle?"

"Take it from me, man. These are scary people you're dealing with. You're out of your league. You don't want to get involved in this stuff."

"You know…actually, I do," Peter coldly responded. The sirens in the background were now getting close. He did not want to be there when they showed up.

"I'd really love to continue this little chat, but I think I'd prefer if you handled the police," he said to him. Peter spun a web to contain the albino before finding Randy and his other classmate. It did not take much searching of the alleyway to hear the two of them hiding behind the dumpster. Peter leapt up on the wall over them. They began to flee, and Peter corralled them with a webline. He jumped down to the street and approached the two boys, who sat on the ground trembling with fear.

"You guys are too young for this shit," he scolded. "Go home now, and don't let me catch you out again." Peter did not prefer to have to battle his own classmates any time in the near future. The boys got up and ran to their car, driving down the alley and disappearing around the corner.

Well, what a night. Definitely the action I had been missing. Not bad, Pete. Beat up the bad guys, stop the drugs…bring down the huge, scary gang enforcer. That guy was intense. I wonder who he is. Hopefully I've seen the last of the Crossbones.

Before long a squad of NYPD cars blockaded the alley way. Cops swarmed the scene as they gathered up the stray gang members and confiscated the entire drug shipment. It was a goldmine. One of the officers shouted to George Stacy, who was on the scene.

"Lieutenant! I got something over here you should probably take a look at!"

Stacy had been pacing the whole alleyway, taking note of everything that was just given to them. It had been a long time since they made a bust this large. He made his way over towards the garage, where the officer was standing. Inside there were several other policemen with their weapons drawn on the albino. He was still kneeling in pain on the garage floor, paralyzed by the tight web that bound his arms. Stacy walked up to him and surveyed the scene, taking note of the eighteen-wheeler that still had some remaining drug packages.

"It's…'Tombstone' isn't it?" Stacy said to the albino. "You know son, we've been looking for you for a while."

"Yeah, I bet," Tombstone sneered.

The lieutenant dismissed him and several officers took him away, placing him in one of their cruisers. Stacy looked over the whole scene once more and smiled. He still wasn't sure who or what had been responsible for these recent gang busts. Whatever it was though, he did not mind it helping out. He wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.