Regretfully, Peter ran past the party crowd, covering his mouth and holding his stomach to ensure his act held up in the time it took to get inside. Not caring about the comments Flash and the others made toward him, he rushed upstairs to the bathroom to check if his costume's hiding spot had been compromised. A wave of relief overcame him when he opened the cabinet under the sink to find that no one had discovered his suit hidden there. Without hesitation, he locked the door and threw on his suit, pausing to make sure no one was trying to barge in.
Squinting to detect heat signatures outside the door, he breathed a sigh of relief when no one appeared to be walking directly by the door. He did, however, look to his left to find heat signatures of a couple making out in the bedroom down the hall.
Yikes! Peter thought. No one wants to see that!
Ignoring what he saw, he slipped his gloves and mask on to complete the look. He opened the door and checked to make sure the coast was clear. His corners were clear as he noticed a window was open just nearby just past the bedroom where he presumed the couple had transitioned into doing it to one another. Unwilling to give that a second thought, he tiptoed across the hall to find that the door to said bedroom was closed. With nothing else left, but a stealthy exit to worry about, he leapt across the room and tumbled out the window, not caring about who might have heard him leave. Swinging out into the cool night air, he did his best to adjust his web swinging to the much shorter buildings surrounding the area. Whatever exploded, Peter was sure to find out.
Whoever's blowing things up at this time of night really ought to pipe down - seriously, they're worse than Flash's booming party music. Now to find where the shot fired.
Peter leapt over buildings and got creative with his web shooters swinging and zipping at a low altitude. The closer he got to the nearby park, the more he sensed the wave of explosive residue emitting nearby. He soared over one final building and landed in the park, his smell guiding him to the nearest baseball diamond. He stood in the middle of the diamond all lit and deserted presumably because nobody was hosting a game - either that or the explosion scared people off. The baseball diamond seemed pretty chill despite the burning smell indicating that Peter was close to the source of the explosion.
Then, as he was walking, he looked down at the middle of a home base as it pulled into his view: a small crater of dust marking where the explosion struck a few minutes ago. Were it not for whoever did this, he would still be gazing into Gwen's eyes seeing some sort of future with her. Instead, he had to settle for second rate secret life material that had been gifted to him the moment he decided to use his powers for good.
Odd that someone would go blowing holes in the ground the size of a kiddie pool. But who, or what, could've done such a thing?
As he stared up from the crater, Spidey's Spider Sense started blaring inside his head once more, alerting him to the presence of a lone deep sea-colored van ahead of him. The van revved its engines, turned on its brights, and zoomed across the turf straight towards him. Although momentarily caught off guard like a deer in the headlights, Spidey thought fast and leapt over the oncoming van barreling its way toward him. He then turned to shoot a webline toward its rear bumper. The web latched on with ease as Spidey touched foot on the ground and ran to keep up with the ever increasing speed of the van as it drove its way through the diamond's fence, busting it open.
From the back of the vehicle, a band of three criminals busted the door open, leaving Spidey bewildered and unable to keep up at the same time. He barely had the chance to notice the criminals were firing heavy seismic blasts at him the closer they drove into the neighborhood. Just barely, he managed to dodge them as he let go of his webline.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, doing a three-sixty in midair as he shot out dual weblines to propel himself forward onto the van. He flipped to land on the van's roof, himself appearing a blur of red and blue that just disappeared into midair. "Peek-a-boo!" he spouted, looking over and down into the back compartment.
The criminals, however, wouldn't relent; they continued to shoot at him airs of seismic blasts that rang throughout the night, Spidey being forced to dodge them effortlessly as he crawled his way around the vehicle. In an effort to swipe what they were shooting, Spidey attached himself to the van's swinging door and shot a web that effectively snatched the device from the criminal's hands. Unable to examine it any further than a glance, Spidey fell to the street the moment another criminal shot the door off its hinges. The door skidded across the road emitting sparks, but Spidey held on for dear life, stood up, and spat out another web that attached itself to the bumper. In a water ski-like fashion, Spidey swerved and dodged around the oncoming blasts, steering his makeshift surfboard as the van turned a corner and caused him to drill through a row of garbage cans lining the curb.
"Sorry!" he shouted to the residents.
Dodging around the air blasts up the next block, Spidey, unable to make a sharp maneuver, plowed through someone's mailbox. A pang of guilt struck Spidey's conscience as he realized the unintentional federal offense he just committed.
"Sorry!" the Web-head called out, still not used to causing property damage in the midst of his escapades.
The more the thugs' blasting zoomed past his face, the less Spidey could focus on his surroundings. Thankfully, though, Spider Sense picked up an incoming metal trailer for him to potentially soar across the sky in order to keep up with the van before it caused any more collateral damage. Dodging additional blasts, he lined himself up with the ramp, sliding his water ski-like door across the freshly mowed grass and up the conveniently placed trailer. His silhouette zoomed across the half moon in the sky, highlighting his figure as he leaped off his makeshift board and dove for the nearest street lamp. With an acrobatic flip around the hanging light, he dove for the front of the van, the criminals in the back no longer bearing sight of him. The wind breezing through him, he used his webs to yank off the front hood of the van, landed on the windshield, and shot out several webs to jam the engine, not caring about the complaints the criminals were spouting. The van ultimately broke down with a whimper of the engine, Spidey leaping off it and turning around the face his adversaries.
"Oh, that's it, you asked for it!" the driver in a cowboy hat said, loading his standard handgun. The criminals in the back followed, arming their dangerous seismic weapons.
"Ooh, this is the part where I slam you all into next week; my favorite bit of the evening!" Spidey quipped, readying his fists.
The gang members fired their weapons, Spidey flipping around the place and onto the nearest street lamp as they fired and took it down. With a little enginuity, the Web-slinger shot a web straight into the nearest seismic weapon's firing mechanism, causing it not only to jam, but also to backfire onto the criminal wielding it, the weapon blowing up in his face.
"That's what ya get for messing with something you don't understand!" Spidey spouted, backflipping to avoid another seismic blast from the only remaining thug wielding one - the other two were wielding standard weapons at this point. The shots fired were enough to create more craters in the ground where Spidey hopped around on, kicking up dust and debris that the neighbors were sure to notice by morning. Another standard bullet whizzed by him, signaling him to line up his web shooters, fire a long line, and pull the gun from the leader's hand - at least he appeared to be the leader based on Peter's judgment. Dropping down, he kicked the criminal in the face and webbed him to the ground before moving on to his next target. A few clocks across the head led to Spidey pummeling the next criminal without even taking his weapon. Three out of four mooks down, the final one appeared to fire up his weapon, the mechanism lighting up with a blue glow.
"Not so fast!" Spidey halted, putting his hand behind his back and pulling the criminal's seismic gun creatively from his hand before he could fire it off. The Web-head then proceeded to drop kick the last criminal and web him up with ease.
"You!" the Western-themed criminal spouted. "Don't think this is over! Montana will have your head for this!"
"Aw, I'm sorry. I missed the part where I'm supposed to lose to the likes of you cowboy criminals that keep showing up!" Spidey fired back, soon after the device landed directly in his hand.
"Boy, if you knew what's stirring in the criminal underworld, you'd be sorry you ever messed with us!"
"Puh-lease, if you guys had the common sense to settle down and make friends, you probably wouldn't have resorted to being criminals in the first place," Spidey retorted. "Why do you even need this stuff anyway?"
The criminal stayed silent, nodding his head to point toward the van. Spidey turned to notice the plain blue words plastered all over the side of the van: "OSCORP". Beneath it read their famous tagline: "Realizing the future one day at a time". The mere fact that he didn't notice this during the chase was more than enough to make Spidey undoubtedly curious. He examined the device to make sure the tech matched with what he saw showcased there on an average day.
"Stealing from the best, I see. You know, if you're gonna steal weapons like this, do me a favor and don't dress like a cowboy. Makes ya look too heroic next to, you know, someone like me!" Spidey boasted.
"You know, this'd all be better if you just-" the criminal started before getting cut off by Spidey's webs reaching his mouth.
"Ah ah ah, please hold all retorts for when the cops arrive," the Web-head joked. "Thank you for flying the Air Spider! Enjoy your stay in jail!"
He spun a web and swung away, not caring about the muffled criminal trying to make a comeback. As Spider-Man flew away, he landed on someone's roof, plopping down on their gutter, trying to process all he had just witnessed. The same company that created the spider that bit him was responsible for developing seismic weapons beyond everyone's comprehension. And now these criminals he kept encountering wanted them presumably for personal gain - or worse, to find a way to take him down. Knowing Harry's dad, Norman, wouldn't approve of this, Peter pondered what would be the responsible thing to do: whether he should tell Oscorp about this incident or just let it slide.
Remember: with great power comes great responsibility, the memory of Uncle Ben's words came to Peter.
As much as he lived by that motto and was close to Harry, perhaps he would need to be responsible and tell him there's been an incident involving Harry's dad's company.
The Web-head took out his phone and snapped a picture of the crime scene ahead of him, making it look like he had done so professionally for a newspaper article. This was the least he could do for the moment since he lacked his signature camera, but, should he come more prepared for next time, he would definitely bring it. Just as he attached it to a message to Harry, he tapped send and allowed it to carry through the airwaves across several towers. Whatever Harry had to say, Peter no doubt anticipated what could come of this.
Minutes passed and Peter had his thoughts broken up by his phone buzzing and ringing; the nineteen eighties-inspired ringtone of the song "Take On Me" reached him as some of the best music to his ears. He checked the screen to find that it was Harry calling him, presumably to check up on the message he sent as well as the fact that he left the party. Already he felt bad for abandoning his friends at the party so how could things have gotten any worse? Bottling his feelings, he answered promptly.
"Yo, dude!" Peter answered, pulling up his mask over his mouth.
"Hey, Pete! I just saw that picture you sent me of the Oscorp van. What happened and how far did you go?" Harry asked on the phone speaker.
Peter paused, trying to think of a good excuse. "...After all that dunking Flash put me through, I needed a breather. You know, take a walk around the neighborhood. Before I knew it there was this Oscorp van barreling through the streets, but, low and behold, Spider-Man of all people put a stop to them and left them there so I took a picture. Does your dad know about this yet?"
"Not that I know, but the picture could be all the evidence I need to convince my dad something's amiss. Any idea what the criminals were after?"
"They were firing… What looked like seismic weapons at Spidey. Is that something your dad invented recently by chance?"
"He usually invents his own projects while leaving most of his employees to do their own thing. Being CEO, though, he does a lot to supervise and ensure quality and executive control of the projects, but I've never heard of him or anyone else inventing any seismic weapons yet. Maybe that's something I should talk to him about next time."
"Alright, in that case, you get to him when you can. I'll be coming back to the party pretty soon now that I've gotten some air."
"I wouldn't, man. I overheard Flash and his gang scheming to humiliate you for abandoning his so-called 'sick ass' party like that."
"Humiliate me, how?" Peter inquired.
"The classic water bucket gag you used to see on our favorite shows. Says he wants to make it a boomerang on Instagram to give you what's coming to ya!"
Peter sighed, regretful he even left the party in the first place. "Well, thanks for the heads up, man. Guess I'll just head home then. I really owe ya one!"
"Anything for ya, man. Just… try not to do this again or he'll really have a problem with ya, okay?"
"Understood, bro. Talk to ya later!"
Peter hung up, burying his face in his sweaty gloved palms. His one chance to actually leave an impression at one of Flash's parties and he blew it. On top of that, he could no longer return to apologize to Gwen for up and leaving their potentially romantic moment. If she didn't previously know him for running away from an opportunity to relate to her, she did now. Sure, she was kind and understanding whenever he did something wrong, but this may have been a whole new level of mistrust. Hopefully, he could recover from this somehow.
Gwen sat all by herself in the midst of the large party crowd at Flash's poolside. She couldn't believe it. After all the anticipation, all the interest Peter had displayed in the days building up to this that he would just leave her in their first truly romantic moment. This was completely unlike him for all she knew. In the years before this he would never do such a thing. He was always there when he needed her, never abandoning their friend group during an outing or any time they got together to do homework. Did he all of the sudden not care for her or was this just an isolated incident?
She stared over at Harry and MJ holding hands with their feet in the water and sighed. That was her with Peter moments before he left. With what Harry told her, it sounded like Peter wasn't coming back. She would most definitely have a few words to say to him the next time she saw him.
Speaking of words, Flash said a few choice ones that made her skin crawl. "Move over, my kin! The Flash has got a date with destiny!" he said, spraying breath freshener looking somewhat in her direction. He couldn't have meant her, could he? Surely enough, he walked past her and headed for the other side of Harry where MJ sat. "Yo, redhead! Care to give the Flash a little taste of your ginger ale? I promise to pay ya back when I get the dough!"
Gwen didn't even have to look at MJ to know she must have been feeling uncomfortable. A no nonsense Harry stood up and nudged Flash away. "Back off, Flash! Can't you see MJ and I are having an intimate moment?"
"Says who, Osborn? No one can resist 'the Flash', not even other people's girls," Flash protested, standing up in Harry's face.
"Hello, MJ and I happen to be almost exclusive! So why don't you back the hell off and leave us alone?"
"Hey, just because you and I are on good terms don't mean we're even!"
"Oh, so now it's about getting even, huh?"
Gwen couldn't hardly take where their conversation seemed to be going. The intensity boiled up to a solid eight in the span of a few words.
"You wanna get even? Fine! I'll fight you for her!" Flash proclaimed, throwing up his fists.
At that point, Gwen could no longer take it so she hopped up and strode over to the two would-be combatants to stand and put her arms between them. "Guys! This is a party, we should all be getting along fine."
"Says you, nerdette! Osborn should be sorry for stealing what could have been my girl had we gone out any more than just the Spring Formal last year!" Flash tried to justify.
"Okay, two things… three actually," she said pointing her fingers at his chin. "One: he has MJ. Two: your mom wouldn't want you fighting anyone just as much as the school principal wouldn't. And three: you have Liz! You'll be lucky if I don't tell her what you're doing right now."
Submitting to her words of wisdom, Flash lowered his fists, faking a smile and everything. "Nonsense! I was just kidding that was all!" he said, feigning innocence.
Gwen facepalmed. "Clearly, you're not, otherwise I wouldn't have had to stand between you both. Tell you what, if you don't say you're sorry, I will tell Liz what you're up to!"
He slumped his head in defeat, clearly at a loss for words on how to counter that. "Fine! I'm sorry!" he said forcefully. "I just did this because the other QBs wanted me to do a truth or dare and I chose dare!"
"Mmhmm," nodded Gwen, folding her arms. "Now tell Harry you're sorry."
She stepped out of the way, revealing Harry at the other end standing amazed at Gwen for her negotiating skills.
"I'm sorry, Osborn," Flash proclaimed, rubbing his neck. "All this was because of a stupid dare. Just… Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Your secret's safe with me, man!" Harry replied, shaking his hand.
"Good 'cause if you do, you'll be the one I dunk next!"
Harry smiled slyly at this, feeling as though that was a shallow threat in his case - compared to someone like Peter, that is. Witnessing this play out, Gwen could hardly believe herself. She could easily stand up to and negotiate with the likes of bullies like Flash while defending her friends simultaneously. If she had anyone to credit, it would be her police commissioner father who stood for the law no matter the circumstance. What would she ever do without him?
As in accomplishment she stood, MJ approached Gwen to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for sticking up to me, sister. I really owe you one!" she promised confidently.
"Don't mention it," she replied. "I'm always here to defend my friends."
"I'm proud of you for that. I must say the party scene suits you well."
"Glad you think so. It was really terrifying coming in here, but Peter helped me through it."
"Definitely get used to it if you wanna come again. You can always count on us for moral support."
Gwen nodded shyly, hopeful MJ knew what she meant. Come on, Gwen. Tell her about Peter; ask for her advice, she thought.
Before she could speak, MJ spoke up. "I'm gonna go join in on this truth or dare game. Hopefully no one makes me flirt with another guy," she said before turning to walk inside.
What a wonder. That Gwen would be the one to help her friends and receive affirmation in return. While still a bit wavering as to whether she could trust Peter or not, she stared up at the half moonlit night pondering what could come of this if it kept happening.
The Criminal Deputies had set up shop in a secret underground weapons testing facility: an old military target practice killhouse somewhere up the road from Big Sky Billiards in Harlem. From the outside, a pair of Oscorp trucks pulled up to the curb in the rundown section of the ghetto neighborhood, but the occupants were not the people anyone would think. From within the vehicles emerged two separate bands of Criminal Deputy occupants, carrying with them an abundance of Oscorp manufactured weapons they stole from the hijacked vehicles. Despite what it took to score these weapons, each of them were certain they scored big and that Montana would be happy.
"Oh, man! Score plenty for the Criminal Deputies!" announced the gang leader.
"Yeah, it wasn't easy, but we knocked those guards clean out and drugged them with amnesia drugs. They'll never remember what they were carrying!" boasted another.
"Hopefully, but lest we not forget this is all to fuel Montana's operation," another crook reminded them. "They're not for us to keep."
"Tell that to his newest colleague," said the leader. "I overheard him talking with Montana. Said he joined up to get back at someone who stole his ideas."
"Whatever that means, let's hope his ideas are genius enough to take us even higher!" another criminal responded. Though he had little idea how much sense his statement would make, he hoped that Montana's newest colleague was capable of more than they could imagine.
The bands of criminals joined together to walk down the stairs that led to a door. The leader knocked on it to make his presence known and, soon enough, he was greeted by a confident Montana standing at the door without his cowboy hat. "I trust y'all have what I instructed ya to steal?" Schultz stated with his arms crossed, hopeful he could trust his cohorts to do the job.
"We stole two trucks worth of weapons like you said," the cohort said, presenting his fellow gang members holding the weapons in hand. "Unfortunately, the third operation we sent over to Queens fell silent and we've not heard from them since."
"Well, I'll be. Naturally, this must mean the bug is on our tail," Montana hypothesized. "If we wanna get back at him, we ought to act quickly. Come with me and let's test these weapons to see what we can do with 'em. I have something special to present to y'all when you're ready."
Montana led his kin into the killhouse where the shooting range was set up to display several targets at a few of the stations. One by one, they each lined up at a station, each of them calibrating their weapons to fire off at maximum. Montana watched as each of them took aim at a target and fired a loud seismic blast that could have easily shattered someone's ear drums. The only thing that did shatter, though, was the target, the pieces scattering along the concrete shooting range floor.
"Yee, doggy! Blowing up cars just got a whole lot easier!" one of them called out.
Montana sat shadily at a card table nearby, peering at everyone from under his cowboy hat. In the meantime, he fiddled with his newest creation he brought in a suitcase: a red and yellow quilted-patterned suit he would utilize to protect himself from the blasts of the seismic weapons. While many of his "boys" were handling the devices just fine, he personally feared that, without protection, he'd lose to any and all opposition trying to manage the weapon. And so, as a self-taught engineer with a background in tech management, he decided to take matters into his own hands to ensure that he would not lose. With that, he stood up to announce what he had planned.
"Boys! Y'all keep playing with those weapons, but try not to bring down the house on us," he ordered. "I'm gonna be right back and try on this fancy new suit I invented."
Whilst they nodded and fiddled with their weapons, the front door opened, revealing an old, Caucasian, bald male somewhere in his sixties carrying a flip phone and a roll of blueprints. Judging by the look in his eyes, he had important business to attend to here.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Montana," he announced, clearing his throat. "Has anyone seen him?"
The criminals stared up from their weapons to look the bald man in the eye. One of them pointed to the back room where Montana had gone a few moments prior.
"He's in the back preparing something," the criminal explained. "He'll be right with you."
"Excellent! He'll be happy to know that Adrian Toomes of all people has arrived to debrief with him," the man came forth.
"Adrian Toomes? Like that guy that got cheated out of his company Adrian Toomes?" another criminal asked.
"Yes, b-Wait! How were you informed?" Adrian inquired.
"We overheard you talking with Montana on the phone and wondered who it was he was bringing in," the lead criminal informed. "Never expected someone of your age and physique to be in on it."
Clearly insulted, Toomes tensed up, but breathed slowly to calm his interiors. He talked and walked inside, heading toward the card table as he did so. "I will let you know that I may be an old, slender man, but I am neither a patient or unintelligent one. I've simply joined with your leader to take back what is rightfully mine and force the head of Oscorp to apologize for stealing my ideas."
The criminals all gave him odd looks as if they had never heard of such a motivation prior to now. "Wow, tough life," one of them spouted. "If Montana's willing to help you, good on him. We're all trying to take things from Oscorp to become the biggest, most powerful gang on the streets."
"Perfect!" Adrian said to himself. "This will only enhance my methods for getting back at Osborn tenfold - by stealing what he created without prior ideation!"
Just then, Montana emerged in his red and yellow quilted-patterned suit, armed with a pair of gauntlets on him, looking ready to trounce anyone that tried to bar his way.
"Howdy, Toomes!" Montana greeted. "Was wondering if y'all'd find the right address."
"Pleased to know you're here, Montana," Adrian replied. "What is it you're wearing?"
"Just a little somethin' I brewed up myself in the lab: a little suit to protect me from my own power when fighting the likes of someone like the bug," Montana explained. "Figured if I'm gonna be leader of you sorry mooks, I oughta pack the firepower and the protection!"
"Flashy!" exclaimed his associate.
"Care to give us a little demonstration?" another asked.
"Don't mind if I do, boys!" Montana complied, walking toward the nearest shooting range station. The previous occupants stepped aside to ensure he had a clear path. Assuming a firm stance, he released the safety on the gauntlet's mechanism, revving up their firepower as they glowed a bright blue. From the gauntlets sprayed double tubes of compressed air that aimed for the nearest target that popped down from the ceiling. The target shattered with ease and Montana didn't even flinch from the impact of firing.
"Whoa!" exclaimed his associates.
"Excellent work!" called out the leader of the gang.
"I am impressed, Schultz," commented Toomes. "I knew for certain that your engineering skills were something to behold. Now I'm convinced you may just be what we need to tear apart our enemies."
"Oh, really?" said Montana, turning around. "And what is it you'll wear when we're out there stealing weapons and destroying all that bar our way to greatness?"
"My one and only signature: tech flight," he said, displaying the blueprints he brought along. The schematics represented the mechanical turbine-powered wings he had invented to try on himself.
"Interesting," a criminal commented.
"Incredible!" said another.
"Indeed," Toomes continued. "I had intended for this to be my means of transporting myself to work should I become older and more disabled. However, it would seem as though Osborn's left me no choice, but to turn to a life of crime to ensure he's brought down properly."
"I hear ya, Toomes," said Montana. "If there's one thing we can all agree on, it's that our enemies won't know what hit 'em, especially that 'bug' we keep throwing down with."
Toomes had now heard the term "bug" twice and scratched his chin. Although he had heard rumors of such, he was still curious to know more. "Tell me… Who is this 'bug' you keep referring to?"
I think it's implied where that would go from there. I will only be using Author's Note to check in every so often from here on. In the meantime, enjoy what chapters I come out with for the time being!