Spider-Man: High School Rules
11: The Defeat of Spider-Man
Through a pair of binoculars, we see a deal taking place on the ground below; the same type of weapons trades that Montana was told about. He slowly moved his binoculars around, ensuring that everything was going to plan.
"What's the point of us being here?" Dan complained, shivering, "For all we know, the goddamn wall-crawler won't even show tonight."
"Stop your whinin'", the Ox commanded, lying on the other side of Montana, "You heard the boss – if we catch the son of a bitch and bring him alive, we get a nice, big pay check."
"Hold up," Montana announced; he had just spotted a new figure in his binoculars. Lowering itself down from the building opposite by a web, there was no doubt it was Spider-Man. Montana watched as the vigilante fired web after web, disarming the men on the ground before taking them on in hand to hand combat. There was no way one guy could take on six hardened weapons dealers all at once, but somehow this guy was pulling it off.
"What is it?" Dan asked, trying to grab the binoculars from Montana before hearing the groans and the thick sounds of punches, "Shit – come on, let's get down there!"
"Wait!" Montana whispered loudly, grabbing Dan by the leg, "Wait until every man is down."
The Ox made a grunting sound as Dan slowly lowered himself to a squat, Montana still keenly watching the scene through his binoculars. Finally, the last of their men still standing was brought down.
"Okay," Montana said, letting go of the binoculars so they could dangle from his neck, "Get ready, boys."
The three men stood up, all dressed in the same attire; black cargo pants, black tops and black balaclavas – except for the Ox, who threw his balaclava aside upon arriving at the scene. Grabbing his Lariat from his belt, Montana untangled it.
"Get ready, boys," Montana breathed deeply before raising his hand into the air and spinning the Lariat around, the air rushing around them before he finally built up enough momentum with it and threw his hand at the ground towards Spider-Man.
As Spidey tied webbing around one of the dealers, his senses were triggered. Something was coming towards him – more specifically, his ankle – and it was coming fast. He went to leap out of the way, but whatever it was still caught him, wrapping around his foot. Looking down, he saw what looked like a lasso tied around his foot before he felt himself being dragged across the ground.
What the hell is this?
Spider-Man looked up and fired webs from each of his hands, one connecting with the base of a street light and another landing on the wall of a nearby building. He held on tight, stopping him in his tracks.
"Shit," Montana grunted, pulling the Lariat as hard as he could, "One of you, get down there, now!"
Cracking his knuckles, the Ox climbed onto the ledge before jumping down the steps of the fire escape, landing on the ground below. Dan quickly joined him, flipping down the steps like an acrobat.
Looking down, Peter could see two figures approaching him. Pulling hard against his webbing, he finally managed to break the tension. On the roof, the handle of the Lariat flew out of Montana's hands, landing at the bottom of the building below.
"God damn it," Montana cursed before quickly stepping down the fire exit.
Getting back on his feet, Spidey kicked the lasso off his foot and got a good look at the two men in front of him – one of them was far smaller and better disguised, while the other was big, pure muscle, and completely unmasked. The two circled him cautiously, both with their hands raised. The biggest one stepped forward first, swinging his boulder-like fists down; side-stepping out of the way, Spidey narrowly avoided them.
His friend flipped over his arm, twisting through the air and catching Spidey off guard with a kick, the man's foot striking across his cheek.
"Ugh!" Peter staggered onto his side before quickly firing a web and dragging himself back across the harsh tarmac, avoided being stomped by the big guy.
"Who the hell are you guys?" Spider-Man demanded in bewilderment before sensing the same weapon as before heading towards him; ducking, the Lariat flew over his head and instead caught Dan, who angrily threw it off his face.
Turning around, Peter started to panic as he dealt with the prospect of fighting three skilled combatants all at once. He fired a web, aiming for Montana's hand, but his aim was thrown off when he felt Fancy Dan wrap his arm around his neck and drag him backwards.
Feeling a large hand place itself on his chest, Peter was pinned back against the wall. Dan grabbed one arm, holding it down, while Montana rushed over and grabbed another. The Ox chuckled as he removed his gloves.
"Say goodnight," he taunted before unleashing a flurry of punches, landing in Peter's gut, across his sides and on his chest. Winded, Peter managed to prize one hand free, firing a web up at the building opposite and kicking off the wall, momentarily freeing himself.
"Montana, quick!" Dan pointed. Montana flung his Lariat over at Spider-Man, catching his ankle and pulling him hard back onto the ground, landing with a smack.
Peter's vision went fuzzy – the impact had cracked the lens of one of his goggles, creating a bizarre effect where half his vision was tinted white. He groaned as he tried to pull himself up before feeling the rope around his foot being adjusted to wrap around both feet.
He was pushed down hard onto the floor, feeling a foot pressing onto his back. He moaned in agony, gritting his teeth to contain his pain. Looking up, he saw the third man walk around to in front of his head.
"Time to finish this," Dan grunted, stomping hard on Spider-Man's head. A jolt of pain, then everything went dark.
Adrian Toomes walked into the lab – Oscorp Lab 3, dedicated to their Advanced Flying projects, and found Norman observing his own design; a set of mechanical wings.
"Norman!" Adrian greeted him, surprised, though it didn't appear that Osborn shared his enthusiasm.
"Adrian," Norman said sternly, "I hope you don't mind, but there's something we need to discuss."
"Of course!" Adrian complied, readying himself.
"For reasons unknown to me, DARPA have been putting pressure on Oscorp – not just for the Advanced Flying projects, but for other research projects too," Norman explained, "The deadline for one program has already been shifted and I fear that they may do the same to Advanced Flying."
"Oh," Adrian's face dropped a little, "Okay, so what do you suggest?"
"Well," Norman replied solemnly, pacing the lab, "I'm saying that, if push comes to shove, you may have to shelve your design."
"My – my design?" Adrian stuttered, "Why?"
"We both know that it needs the most work of any of the other designs being worked on," Norman slowly made his way back over to Adrian, "I'm sorry to say it, Adrian, but the other designs are leagues ahead, both in terms of practicality and progress."
"What are you saying?" Adrian said.
"I'm not saying anything just yet," Osborn raised his hands, "No decision has been made yet; hell, DARPA are still sticking to the original deadline they gave us. It's just that this news came as something of a shock to the head of another project. I thought it best to give you a heads up."
"Wait, so what does this mean?" Adrian asked, "I mean, I've spent months working on, designing this wingsuit –"
"You can continue working on it for the time being," Norman cut him off, making his way out of the lab, "I'm sorry, Adrian, but there's really nothing else I can say for now. I didn't mean to worry you."
Before Toomes could get another word in, Osborn was already out the door. Baffled, he looked up at his machine. The other designs are leagues ahead in practicality? What could Osborn mean by that? Perhaps he was jealous, or perhaps he would rather push his own project, the Glider – since Osborn designed it himself, he'd receive a sum of money he could keep for himself.
Frustrated, Toomes threw his hand across his desk, knocking aside a stack of blueprints. He'd show Osborn that his design was worthwhile.
Cop cars pulled up on the side of the road, sirens blaring. Two cops piled out of each car, Captain George Stacy among them. Upon hearing the report of the scene, he believed that there could potentially be something big here. Heading down the alleyway, they came upon a scene of complete chaos; unconscious and beaten bodies scattered across the clearing, each tied up in webbing.
"Jesus," one cop uttered, "You're telling me that Spider-Man took on all these guys alone?"
"Six guys," another counted, "This ain't the first time the web-head has been involved in stopping an arms trade, Captain."
"I'm aware," Stacy replied bluntly, "Round up all these guys. If we could get just one of them to talk, we might find out who's really behind this operation."
Stacy walked around the scene, examining the dealers as cops dragged them away.
"What do you think this is, boss?" a cop asked.
"Seems like someone is trying to make a name for themself in the criminal underworld," Stacy theorized, "Could be a new name, could be someone who's been doing this for years that decided to up their game. Either way, the web-head's taken a liking to them."
He wondered if Spider-Man had stumbled upon these scenes by chance, or if he found them deliberately. Is it possible that he knew who the boss was?
"Who's to say Spider-Man's completely innocent in this?" George thought out loud, attracting the attention of another cop. "How do we know he isn't working for a rival family? Maybe someone's looking to stomp out the competition."
"That's all of them, sir," one of the cops approached Stacy.
"Let's get them talking," the Captain joined his men, returning to their vehicles.
Peter came to, his whole body aching with particular stress on his arms. He felt binds around his arms, tying them back, holding them in an unnatural position. Similarly, binds were wrapped around his ankles, preventing him from fully moving his legs.
His breathing quickened as he realised that a rope was tied around his chest to the back of the chair he was on. Peter started struggling in the chair, desperate to break loose.
"Easy, kid," he heard a voice say and, looking up, he could see a silhouette on the other side of the desk he was sat at. He saw a faint, orange light, emitting grey smoke; even through his mask, the stench of cigar smoke was strong.
"Who-who are you?" Peter demanded with a lump in his throat, "Where am I? What am I doing here?"
The man put his cigar in the ash tray, letting it sizzle out before leaning inward, allowing his face to be illuminated by the light. It revealed a twisted, angry face, sat on a freakishly shaped head. The look in the man's eyes struck fear into Peter's heart, and he started writhing harder in the chair, breaking the bonds that tied his hands together.
Slamming his fist on the desk, the man alerted two people stood outside the room, who quickly stormed in and held Peter down, grabbing an arm each.
"Keep still, you son of a bitch," Hammerhead growled as he leaned over the desk, reaching for Peter's goggles and popping them off his head.
"No, please!" Peter begged, "Get off me – don't take it off!"
His words fell on deaf ears as Hammerhead leaned back over the desk, grasping the top of Peter's balaclava. In one swift movement, he yanked it off, pulling Peter's hair slightly and revealing the boy's face. Hammerhead stayed in place, his face right in front of Peter's.
"You really are just a kid, huh?" Hammerhead grunted.
Peter's eyes widened; what had he got himself into? Who was this guy? Was he going to die here?
"When I had my boys bring you here, I was gonna kill ya," Hammerhead admitted bluntly, standing upright and walking around his desk before leaning in front of Peter. "But I see you now, no older than, what, seventeen, eighteen?"
"Please," Peter gasped.
"Look," Hammerhead continued, "I can give you three choices, but I'm tellin' ya, only two of them'll let you live. You can either give up this whole superhero shtick, let it be a little phase you went through; or, on the other hand, you could work under me – be part of my crime family."
Peter breathed heavily, already white as a ghost.
"Now, if you refuse both those options," Hammerhead explained, "Or you lie to me and come back in your lil costume some time down the line, I will kill you."
Peter struggled slightly in the arms of the two men, trying to free himself, but to no avail.
"There's nothin' wrong with a lil' forgiveness, kid," Hammerhead smirked, "But if you lie to me, I will fuckin' kill you. Understand?"
Peter reluctantly nodded his head, holding back tears.
"Now, what's it gonna be?" Hammerhead asked, standing right in Peter's face. "You're a kid, you're scared. I know you don't wanna die, so that leaves you two options. You gonna give up? Or are you gonna join me?"
"I'll never join you," Peter said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down his face.
"Then you best throw your lil outfit in the trash," Hammerhead snarled. "This is your one and only chance, kid. Do not come back. If you do..."
The boss pointed up into the corner of the room. Peter followed his finger, seeing a security camera, pointed right at him.
"I've got no problem showin' the world who you are," Hammerhead threatened, "And if, for whatever reason, I don't kill ya – you can bet your sorry ass someone else will."
Peter clenched his teeth together as Hammerhead nodded to his two henchmen. "Show Spider-Man out, boys."
Suddenly, Peter felt his heels being dragged across the floor as the men led him out of whatever building he was in before opening the exit, loosening his binds and tossing him onto the street, shutting the door on him and leaving him lying in a bundle of rope.
Oh God... Oh God...
Peter sobbed as he staggered to his feet, his ankles still in discomfort. He looked down at his wrists, finding them bare of web-shooters.
They took them – my web shooters, they must have taken them...
Carefully navigating the streets, Peter found himself on his way home. Quietly climbing in through his bedroom window, he found the time to be 2:51am. He threw his clothes into the bottom of the closet and looked in the mirror – there were bruises all along the sides of his body, painful even without touching them. Slowly, he carefully climbed into bed and wrapped himself in his bed sheets.
"So that's what you do."
Montana, Fancy Dan and the Ox sat around a table in Hammerhead's compound. Drinking expensive alcohol, they celebrated their victory over Spider-Man earlier that night.
"What, martial arts?" Dan clarified, "I picked it up when I was a kid."
"Huh," Montana nodded, "Wasn't exactly sure what you'd be bringing to the team. Anyway, thanks to you, we got the sucker."
"Didn't think he'd go down as easily as he did," Dan chuckled, "I mean, he's meant to be a superhero, right?"
"He met his match," the Ox grunted, "The wall-crawler's only ever had to deal with the dealer types we were watching over; hardly a physical challenge."
"Right," Montana nodded, "Let's face it, the guy's a rookie – we're probably the toughest opponents he's ever had."
"Still don't understand why Hammerhead let him go," the Ox shook his head, "I'd have squashed that bug real good if I were him."
"He won't be bothering us again," Montana assured, "Or he'll get what's coming to him."
"More information has been revealed regarding the recent illegal weapons deals that were interrupted by the vigilante known as Spider-Man earlier this week. In a statement released this morning, Captain George Stacy of the NYPD had this to say..."
The footage cut to Captain Stacy outside the NYPD building, speaking to the press and accompanied by a variety of officers.
"I will remind everyone that the official stance that I, along with the rest of the NYPD, have on vigilantism is strict condemnation. Currently, we believe the two illegal weapon trades that Spider-Man interfered with were being conducted by the same criminal organization, and there's nothing to suggest that Spider-Man is not working as an operative for a rival gang seeking to crush competition.
As for who is behind these operations, we are currently working with the men found at the scene and hope that through their co-operation, and further investigation, we'll catch the leader. This is the job of the NYPD, and I suggest that Spider-Man, or any other vigilante for that matter, cease their involvement."
"Does it ever get weird seeing yourself on TV?" Gwen asked.
She, Peter and Gwen's parents sat around their dining room table. Peter felt a little awkward with it being the first time he had joined Gwen's family for dinner; it didn't help that his former alter-ego was being brought up.
"It's been so long, I don't even think about it," George chuckled as he cut up his food. "It just comes as part of the job."
"Is that true?" Helen asked about George's statement, "That Spider-Man could be a villain all along?"
"Call me controversial, but anyone who runs around acting on their own free will, concealing their identity, is no different from any other criminal," George replied with a sense of formality, as if he had answered the question a million times. He turned to Peter. "Peter, I couldn't help but notice that you've taken photographs of Spider-Man in the past – for the Daily Bugle, correct?"
Peter froze up a little as he felt three pairs of eyes on him.
"Don't worry," George chuckled, "You're not in trouble. Just something Gwen had mentioned."
"Oh, yeah," Peter relaxed, "Yeah, I did for a little while, but I haven't seen him around lately."
"I noticed," George nodded, "Sightings have been awfully low. Makes my job easier, I guess."
Inside of him, Peter felt something change – perhaps it was George's opinions on Spider-Man, maybe it was the internal struggle Peter had been dealing with over the last few days, but it inspired Peter to speak up.
"How are you so sure that Spider-Man is a bad guy?"
George swallowed his food and adjusted himself in his seat. "Well, I'd say I have as much reason to believe he's bad as you have to believe he's good."
"But he does good things, right?" Peter challenged him further, "I heard he rescued a mother and her daughter from a burning apartment – and stopping illegal arms dealers, isn't he helping the police?"
"Not helping as much as hindering, most of the time," George replied matter-of-factly, "Yes, there are tales of him being a Good Samaritan, but the fact that, unlike actual heroes like Tony Stark or the Fantastic Four, this man refuses to reveal his identity is enough to raise suspicion."
"But why would you think he's working for a crime family?"
The atmosphere at the dinner table grew tenser with each altercation.
"We have reason to believe he may be targeting this organization in particular," George stated, "It would be a hell of a coincidence if he happened upon them twice in a row – look, Mr Parker, I'm aware you have some fondness for Spider-Man, being his photographer and all, but sometimes you have to ask questions, you understand?"
Peter went quiet, playing with the food on his plate.
"Anyway, like you say, he's been missing the last few days, the longest we've seen him gone since he popped up. Hopefully, he took my advice to heart and has given up."
Given up? The two words reminded him of what that man, the boss, had said to him days before. Give up, join him or die.
"Let's all cool down," Helen piped up, "So, Peter, what's your plan after graduation?"
"Hopefully, Biochemistry at Empire State University," Peter replied, smiling, "I'm hoping I'll be able to get a scholarship there."
"Peter's the top of our class in science," Gwen complimented him, "He's even better than me."
"Biochemistry – is that what you're doing, Gwen?" George asked.
"No, just straight-up Biology," Gwen corrected him.
"And then what, Pete? You hope to become a scientist?" George turned to Peter again.
"That's the idea," Peter said, swallowing a mouthful of food, "Hopefully at Oscorp – I've always wanted to work there."
"You should ask Harry to get you a job there," Gwen joked.
The four continued making light conversation around the dinner table, talking until they had all finished their meals, at which point Gwen and Peter excused themselves. Taking Peter upstairs, Gwen showed him her room for the first time.
"Sorry, it's a mess up here," Gwen quickly picked up some discarded clothes off of the floor and stuffed them in one of her drawers.
"It's pretty nice!" Peter looked around; there was a shelf stacked with biology textbooks; beneath it sat a desk with a slick, new Macbook. On the other side of the room from it was her bed, far bigger and looking far more comfortable than Peter's. The room as a whole was bigger than Peter's, but, if Pete was estimating correctly, was a little smaller than Harry's.
Gwen sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey, mind if I ask you something?"
"Uh, sure," Peter replied nervously, sitting down beside her.
"Look, I don't know what your opinions are on superheroes, or what you think of Spider-Man, or whatever," Gwen started, "But please, do not bring it up with Dad. He's very opinionated."
"Right, I get that," Peter said quietly, nodding, "Sorry, you know – I don't know what came over me down there."
"It's fine," Gwen said soothingly, "Like I've said, once he gets going it's hard to stop him."
Are you going to tell her?
You're not Spider-Man anymore, right?
She won't tell anyone. You trust her.
"Look, Gwen," Peter shuffled a little closer, "There's something I need to tell you – there's a reason why I was being so supportive of Spider-Man down there..."
"You're his photographer," Gwen looked into his eyes, "I get it."
"No," Peter shook his head before correcting himself, "Well, yeah, but not just that."
"What?" Gwen looked at him sceptically, backing away slightly, "Do you know something about him?"
Peter opened his mouth to speak but the words wouldn't come out. He knew it was too late now to not say anything.
"Look, Gwen," Peter stood up in front of her, "I'm going to tell you something, and once I tell you, you can't ever tell anyone, okay?"
"Oh my God," Gwen muttered, "Are you Spider-Man?"
Hearing those words made Peter's world freeze, like time stopped for a second.
"No, no, no," Peter shook his head and kneeled down, putting his arms on Gwen's shoulders, "...Not anymore."
Gwen's face dropped – she felt betrayed, knowing that Peter, this boy she's known all her life, who she had a crush on for the last two or so and had dated for weeks, was some kind of vigilante; or a criminal, for that matter.
"Peter," Gwen asked, "Is this for real?"
"Yes," Peter admitted, "I was Spider-Man. But I'm not anymore. I've stopped."
"Wha-why?" Gwen asked, stunned.
"I..." Peter began, plotting how to tell her, "When we went on that school trip, to Oscorp, way back in September, do you remember visiting that... the spider exhibit?"
"The genetically enhanced spiders, yeah..."
"Right," Peter nodded, "And do you remember how I got sick that day?"
"Yeah."
"I was bit," Peter explained, "At least, I think that's how it happened. When I was taking pictures, I saw one of the spiders was missing from its enclosure, and not long after I saw a spider bite me. Over the next day or two, I started developing these... powers."
"What," Gwen butted in, "You can, like, shoot webs? Crawl walls?"
"Well, I had to make the web shooters – but yeah, crawl walls; and more, too – super strength, agility, improved vision, enhanced senses."
"Wow..." Gwen gasped. "Why... why did you stop?"
"It got too dangerous," he confessed, "I just... I mean, you've heard about the arms deals and stuff. I just got in too far over my head."
"So you still have the powers?" Gwen asked, "And what about the webs – you said you made web shooters?"
"Yeah," Peter sighed, "I made my own artificial webbing. I worked out how to combine all these chemicals together, then I made the mechanism to fire it out."
Gwen shook her head, still in complete disbelief. "Peter, I... I don't know what to say."
"I know," Peter rubbed his hands along her shoulders, "But you don't have to worry. Like I said, I'm not doing it anymore."
"I know," Gwen stood up and walked over to her bedroom window, looking out at nothing in particular, "It's just... I mean, part of me finds it kind of cool. Like, it's heroic and all..."
Peter stayed where he was, wanting to give her some space.
"But..." Gwen continued, "I feel a little... like, betrayed?"
"I'm sorry," Peter apologized, "I wanted to tell you, really."
"It's just..." Gwen's voice cracked, "I don't know, I feel like I would have told you straight away."
"Gwen, nobody knows," Peter assured her; technically, it was a lie. Whoever that psycho he met knew. "Not Aunt May, not Harry, nobody."
Gwen paused for a few seconds. "How can I believe you?"
Peter did a double take. "What? What do you mean?"
"Prove it," Gwen demanded, "You say you still have your powers. Prove it."
"I..." Peter looked around hopelessly, thinking of how best to convey this to her. Jumping up, he raised his hands and reached the ceiling, dangling from it by his fingertips while Gwen watched, jaw dropped to the floor.
"See?" Peter sighed, letting himself drop back down.
"Okay..." Gwen leant back against the windowsill, "So, you got your powers. Why did you then decide to be a superhero?"
Peter wanted to say it was a long story, but he felt he owed her this explanation.
"When I got the powers, I thought of how I could use them to make money for May and Ben," Peter began, "And that's when I saw this ad for a wrestling contest."
"A wrestling contest?" Gwen repeated loudly before Peter hushed her.
"I know, it sounds stupid," he rolled his eyes, "But it seemed like a legit way to make some money. So I went ahead and entered – I won, actually, but the organizer wouldn't pay me all the prize money."
"Where's this going?" Gwen interrupted.
"Please, I'm getting there," Peter said apologetically, "After I left his office, a robber came in. He stole the guy's money and ran past me. I could have stopped him... but, I let him go."
Peter took a deep breath, feeling tears welling in his eyes. He had never properly recounted this night to anyone before, and knowing what was coming up next made it all the more difficult.
"I'd told Ben to pick me up outside the library nearby," Peter continued before explaining himself, "He thought I was studying. When I got there, he had been shot."
The look on Gwen's face suggested she knew what was coming.
"The next morning, the police had checked the security footage and found it to be the same guy who robbed the organizer's office," Peter said in almost a whisper. "I was vengeful. Almost every night after that, I went out and hunted him down. One night, I found him..."
There were tears in both Pete and Gwen's eyes, and Peter had to catch his breath before carrying on. "I wanted to kill him, like he killed Ben, but I knew it wasn't right. I left him for the police to find."
"Peter," Gwen whispered, crying softly, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Peter sniffed, "You've got nothing to apologise for."
"No one knows any of this?" Gwen asked.
"No one," Peter replied, "And no one can know. Please, this has to be kept between us."
A few seconds of silence passed between the two.
"Peter," Gwen stood up, wiping tears from her eyes with her sleeve, "I... I think I need some time to take this in."
"Gwen, please, I'm sorry –"
"No, no, it's okay," Gwen stopped him, "Please, I just need to think all this through."
"Alright," Peter gave in. Quietly, he let himself out of her room.
Author's Note: Really enjoying writing these at the moment, working hard on planning them and getting them out. Enjoy and review!
