2:00 am

"You know, I made a bet that something interesting was going to happen on a Friday night at 2 a.m." Spider-Man dropped down from a web in the middle of the masked men. "Thanks for helping me win."

The thieves didn't seem to appreciate the humor in the middle of the courtyard at MoMa. All five of them froze at the sound of his voice. Peter slipped completely to the ground in between all of them. The bad guys started through the usual reactions of being caught in the act.

First, someone yelled.

It used to be "Who the hell are you?". Then it morphed into "Spider-Man!". Now that he was a bit more popular in his line of work and let's be honest here, a little bit better at it, the shouting has degraded into the following:

"God damn it! Run!" the man dressed in black screamed in an odd accent that he couldn't place.

The five men were in the process of wrapping straps around a black statue of a curvy lady. Peter had only been swinging by and doing one last check when he saw something strange in the courtyard of the building. The statue kinda looked like art. In a way. It was some sort of dark bronze and larger than him.

What constituted art anyways? He tried to remember the result of the forty minute argument in his art class.

He forgot step two of bad people panicking.

The bullet whizzed in front of his nose as he jerked back reflexively. His spider sense tickled in his head.

People liked to shoot him.

It used to bother him.

But that was before he went and fought Captain America and the Vulture. Bullets didn't sting that much after that. It was all about perspective, right?

The gun rung out again and Peter jumped onto another statue in the courtyard. It was another busty lady. He shuffled his hands to her shoulders since they had previously all been in the wrong places.

"Alright, enough of that. I've got to make it home in one piece please." He shot web onto the muzzle of the gun and yanked. The gun rattled across the tile and fell into the little pond.

The third step was most reliable. It was one of those 100% chance things.

They ran.

Three of the five already had already started. A square hole in the ground was clearly what they were going to. Peter prioritized. The other two guys were just running straps around the statue and clearly they weren't going to get anywhere with it. The walls of the courtyard were high and if he covered the hole, there would be nowhere else to go. He sprung off the statue he was on.

The courtyard was dark except for the security lights coloring everything into different shades of gray and red.

"I think we should chat for a moment," Peter said as he landed between the men and their escape hole. "You know, appreciate the art that you are trying to steal and all? Do you even know who made that one? I can't remember."

The man closest to his landing spot skidded so quickly that his feet flew out from him. Both Peter and the other two watched him heroically pinwheel his arms and yell. The thief fell hard onto the ground. His head smacked against the concrete with a strange sound.

They looked at the sprawled out body. He started groaning and curled onto his side to Peter's relief.

"Oh man. He's going to need some help. Thankfully I already called the police three minutes ago." Peter jerked his wrist, sending webbing locking both of still standing men's feet to the ground. "You all just stay still. I can't have any more of those falls. Good plan?"

He gave them thumbs up as if they were going to do it back.

They didn't.

That was okay.

Peter couldn't help the smile that was on his face. Being this, doing this, it felt so good. He could play as Spider-Man in ways that Peter Parker would never have the chance.

The buzzing noise was what got him to spin around on his heel. He made a bit of a miscalculation. The fat lady statue wasn't where it had been before. Instead it was flying.

The sight was so strange that his mind needed to take a second to believe it.

The bronze statue was disappearing into the night with the two remaining men hanging off of her like monkeys. Karen's voice helpfully chimed in his ears: Those are four 7000-Type CK Drones, Stark design although heavily altered. I'm afraid I cannot hack them, Peter. With a flickering light, the screen showed the machines that were pulling the statue away by the ropes that he didn't care about.

"Uhhh…" The smoothness of his voice was replaced with staccato notes as he looked between the captured men and the woman flying away. "They'll be by for you soon. Promise!"

He yanked himself into the sky. The air sucked as his arms and chest as he pulled himself up hard to gain a strong momentum. The courtyard miniaturized and as he swung to the left to follow the drones, he saw the police cars in the distance, their red and blue lights shining. Good. Peter checked that off.

The drones gained almost too much distance on him. The higher that they got in the sky, the more impossible it was to see the almost black statue. Karen strained to keep track of it. The wind pulled against his suit and his legs stretched back towards the ground as the speed worked against him.

Letting go of the web thrilled him. The pure projection of flying through the sky before the next webshot connected and the jerk of arching with the new thread made his heart sing.

But there wasn't time to dwell on that.

There were more baddies to catch.

The woman disappeared around another corner of a building sharply. Peter had spin out another web in a wild attempt to catch part of that tower so he didn't miss the turn entirely. It didn't make it in time, sticking a moment too late, meaning that if Peter had held on, it would have rammed him directly into the next block's apartment buildings.

Instead, he let go, spinning freely in the air over and over as the cars and the road approached too rapidly for anyone's taste. The air hissed in his ears. Another web deployed into the multicolored mess of New York City. Peter held onto it with both hands bracing for the impact as it yanked tight and spiraled him in right direction.

His thigh clipped against the top of a taxi before he was off flying. Something ripped. Fresh air tickled up his leg. That would have to be for later.

His breath pumped in his lungs as his eyes tried to seek out the drones.

A foot disappeared around another bend.

They were doing their best to loose him.

It was on the verge of working.

His stomach started to growl. Seriously? Now? Hadn't he had dinner at seven?

He shot out another web to swing after the artwork.

That hamburger was a busy sixish hours ago.

Maybe he'd stop at Jo's on the way back. Spider-Man got a discounted rate on pizza there.

Turning the corner, the city disappeared into the blackness of the sea. There was nothing to swing onto. Peter flew out into open air and his stomach dropped to the ground as his mind went blank with the lack of possibilities. He scrambled to pull himself back before he swung into nothingness and would have had to take a dive instead. Little cruise ships sparkled against the dark waters. The drones yanked the woman far over the Hudson, completely out of range.

Then the little red lights on the machines winked at him one last time and then shut off. The statue disappeared entirely.

Peter hung onto a porch looking over the view. His chest burned as he forced his breathing to slow down. Somehow he should have thought of that one. He sat himself on the arm rail. Okay. Peter squashed the disappointment in his throat. That didn't go as planned. They would strike again and he would be better next time. That would be the hope anyways.

Again his stomach growled.

Maybe it would be Joe's.

Or Aunt May's leftovers?

The ships slipped across the water noiselessly but none illuminated the stolen statue. He shivered in the breeze. The adrenaline left him and the time of night hung against his shoulders.

Man. Doing Ms. Gardiner's extra credit assignment would have been great tonight. He checked out the time on the interface. 2:44 am.

The subway rattled behind him. Did he have time to do that? It was an extra worksheet in addition to the regular homework that was due on Monday. He tapped the railing. He wasn't failing the class…yet.

"Excuse me. What are you doing?"

A couple and a small dog stood at the cracked open sliding glass door. Peter swung a leg over, saddling the railing and put up his hands.

"Hey, sorry about this. I was just taking a quick breather. I'll get on my way." It was probably best anyways. Food and homework called his name. They stood there staring at him in confusion. He swung his other leg over so he was facing them. Going off the railing backwards would be the easiest at this point.

They didn't say anything else so he waved again and started to lean back. "Have a good night!"

"Wait!" The woman stepped through causing Peter to yank himself forward painfully. The railing squealed.

"Can we have an autograph?"

The smile was forced on his face. "Of course."

And with that, he stepped onto the porch. It was almost three now. His stomach hurt and the seconds of doing this tapped against his back. He needed to get going but how could he say no?

Here we go again! I can't seem to get away from Spider-Man it seems.

A couple notes about this story. This is a 24 hour story, meaning that every hour from 2 a.m. Friday night/Saturday morning to 2 a.m. on Saturday night/Sunday morning will be represented (except for two occasions in which this poor kid has to sleep). Not every hour will be represented as you expect. I first heard this structure idea from Kate Cavanaugh on YouTube.

This is also a slice-of-life story. There is a general plot but we will wander into hilarity and tomfoolery. I promise.

My personal challenge was to see how realistic I could make Peter's life without being boring. Let's see if I succeed.

As I write this, I am actually working on the finale. I'm strangely at the beginning and end of this story now.

What do you think? Do you like it so far? Who is ready for some art thefts and Peter trying to keep on top of everything?

Thank you for reading and see you next week.

-Quin