Dear Uncle Jed,

It's been six months since you've passed. Mom and grandma think it's good that I write to you as a way of coping. But I need to tell you something. I'm New York's one and only Spiderman.

Nathaniel swung through the streets, launching webs from one post to another, gradually gaining momentum. He practically flew over cars and taxis, hoping to make it to the bank in a couple of minutes. He remembered 42nd and 5th as a hub for crime and 'activity' (as Professor Parker had said) and wanted to waste no time in knocking a few heads together.

I know that sounds crazy, that I'm some sort of 'hero' or something, but it's the truth. I've been this way for about...a month? two months? The time has flown by.

He heard the familiar sound of police sirens singing in the distance, letting him know that he was right on track for some 'bad muthas' as Uncle Jed would've said. The wind was blowing at his back, giving him a strong advantage and the added speed he needed. Nathaniel had gotten used to the swinging and added abilities as Spiderman, and it gave him a sudden boost of confidence.

I'd never been a strong kid, and you know that. In fact, I could barely do a push up before. Now you can imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they see my bench press abilities or run ten laps without breaking a sweat. I just tell them I ordered these special supplements from China or Japan, made with some essential oils or other corny BS. You'd be surprised how stupid some people can be.

Nathaniel finally reached the bank, seeing a squadron of police crowding the front entrance like a Beaverdam. From where he sat on a nearby ledge, a figure in a mask was holding a gun to the temple of what seemed to be a bank employee. With his vision drastically improving since the 'incident', he could clearly see the beads of sweat running down her face.

"Don't come any closer, or her brains will paint this goddamn sidewalk!" he screamed to the policemen. The gun was only some sort of pistol, nothing too over the top or straight out of a video game. What if spiderman used a gun? that would be way more helpful in situations like this. He could already picture Professor Parker giving him a stern lecture about how guns are bad and we should have more gun control. It's not like Spiderman would kill with a gun. In fact, Professor Parker had given him a staunch list of rules he had as Spiderman.

"No pepper sprays, stun guns or tasers."

"What about brass knuckles?" argued Nathaniel.

"No. Spiderman uses his fists and feet. Y'know, for kicking, punching?"

"Why can't Spiderman have a sick, awesome utility belt?"

Professor P but a hand to his forehead. "Spiderman is combat based. You're too young to be carrying weapons."

Nathaniel thought spiderman could at least use bear repellent or some other spray type thing to ward of evildoers, but Professor P had his rules. At least when he was eighteen they could negotiate. The fact that Spiderman could have a weapon before he could drink was a tad bit exciting.

The cops seemed at a loss for how to stop the gunman and rescue the hostage, something he had become used to seeing when he became Spiderman. Sure, the cops hated him. He believed it was the fact that he actually could handle crime and solve problems. new York's police force had become old and tired over the years.

"Professor P, I think I should have a catchphrase. Something like: I, am the LAW."

"No, no, no."

Nathaniel made a list in his head, an order of what to accomplish.

1. Infiltrate the bank.

2. Take down the robbers inside

3. Rescue the hostage

The bank was bound to have some sort of exterior entrance. The back door was probably for emergencies. If he entered, an alarm would sound, and a dead teller would weigh on him for the rest of his Spidery career. He scanned the entire area, looking for at least one vent skylight. Hell, even a chimney would be good right now.

The police had gotten the call at 4:45, meaning the robbery had most likely started a good ten minutes before that. To access the vault with all the money inside would take them at least half an hour after their initial entrance to the bank. Adding in the five minute travel time, as well as the five he was using to scan the area, he had twenty minutes.

Crap.

'Come on, N, THINK.'

As if hit by lightning, a realization came to him. A pile of garbage bags was outside the back, laying on the pavement.

Jackpot.

Garbage+the lazy way it was put out= Garbage disposal.

He silently swung around, seeing a flap of metal covering an opening. He dropped down, running at full speed into the den of the garbage, hitting the door with a web to hold it, and it jumped inside.

The tunnel smelled, obviously, like trash. Moldy fruit and used coffee cups, and heavily used tissues sticking to the metal walls. This was Spiderman's first low: climbing through a garbage dump.

The light at the end of the tunnel grew nearer, shining with a clean, holy light. Nathaniel spat another web from his wrist, pulling himself up, and landing in a spotless break room. The boots tracked garbage all over the nice, white floor. A dirty floor is better than a dead employee and stolen funds, right?

He heard voices coming from outside the break room and pressed his ear against the wood door. Metal on metal screeched through, a sure sign the criminals were drilling into something filled with money.

This was it. time for Spiderman to do his thing.