We landed on a rooftop not far away, and I dropped to a seated position, catching my breath. I felt like I'd just gotten off a ride at an amusement park. A ride that no human was meant to be on.
"Alright fella. You wanted my attention, you got it." I recognized it as definitely the same voice as the man from the warehouse all those months ago. However, the jovial tone that characterized our previous encounter was utterly gone. The voice was cold and hard.
"Spider-Man," I said, as I regained my composure. "Frank McDoogel, 14th Precinct, NYPD. We met awhile back. You saved my partner and I from a drug bust gone bad." I paused. "You probably don't remember."
"Just a typical Tuesday afternoon for me," the webslinger confirmed. "So tell me, Officer. You wanted my attention badly enough to torture a subdued man. I take it you don't just want to catch up on old times."
"It's about my son, Georgie," I said. I reached into my wallet, pulled out a picture. "He's 12. He's a great kid, good grades, never a bad report from school. Until the other night. I found him hanging out with a new crowd. He's joined some kinda gang. He didn't come home last night."
"Sorry, but child psychology isn't exactly my specialty," Spider-Man said. "I'm not sure how you think I can help."
"This isn't just any ordinary gang," I replied. "These kids can fly with some weird kinda wings. And shoot sharp little feathers." I showed him my bandaged arm. "Also, the power packs on the wings make them stronger. I tracked them to one of their hideouts last night, and got full-body tossed into a wall by a kid no older than 15."
Spider-Man crouched low to the ground but seemed perfectly comfortable. "What you're describing is technology belonging to the Vulture, one of the crooks with whom I tangle on a regular basis. But the Vulture doesn't give his technology out to anyone. His flunkies are always ground-based. And I've never heard of him using kids before."
"That's what everyone's been telling me," I said. "Nobody was willing to take me seriously. Until I talked to your friend, Doctor Kafka. She said that using kids might fit Toomes's MO. And that he might be controlling the wings remotely."
"I suppose that's possible," Spider-Man said. "Vulture's at large, but I haven't heard from him in months. If he's using kids to do his dirty work for him, it needs to stop. I'll take him down hard. You said that you had the location of one of their hideouts?"
"I do. I'll take you there."
"Or you can just tell me where it is and I'll take care of it."
"No way. I'm a police officer, and this is my son we're talking about. No way I'm just going to sit home twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to call. Meanwhile, Georgie could be getting hurt. I'll show you where it is, you'll take me with you."
"If everything you're telling me is true, you're out of your league, buddy," Spider-Man said matter-of-factly. "You'll just get in the way. If I find your son, I'll make sure he's not hurt."
"No offense." I held up my hands. "And I really mean no offense. But you don't seem to be going out of your way not to hurt the bad guys today. I've seen you in action before, but I've never seen you brutalize anyone the way you did the stilt guy a few minutes ago."
"You're one to talk."
"I did what I had to do to get help for my son," I said. "But I don't even know you, and the way you're acting worries me. None of your usual jokes, you sound like someone just ran over your dog. And the suit doesn't exactly scream good mood."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I wondered if I'd gone over the line. If someone really had run over his dog, I might be dangling out a window here in a few seconds.
"Look, I've been a cop for awhile," I said. "My instincts are good. I might spot something that you don't. At least let's go to the hideout together. If you wanna ditch me after that, it's not like I can stop you"
"Fine," Spider-Man said. "Buckle up, buckaroo."
And then we were flying through the air again.