Disclaimer: if ownly if ownly I owned stuff. I don't though so poop

Me again :D I'm posting another chapter cuz GUESS WHAT GUYS IT'S SUMMER WHOOP WHOOP! I figured this would be a fun way to kick it off. The only reason I'm so hesitant to post more chapters is because I'm sorta developing the plot as I go and I don't like having to go back to chapters I've already posted and changing stuff to fit with the future plot, y'know? I'm just a spazz I guess haha. Anyhoo, yeah, here you go. :)

Chapter 2

Tony Stark was hard at work in his man cave. He sat at his workbench, a blowtorch in his hand and a welding mask hiding his face. Sparks spouted from his masterpiece. He watched two red-hot beads of metal fuse together, then sat back in his chair with a huff. He lifted up his mask and wiped his damp forehead, then dropped the torch and held out his hand.

"Pass me that ball pein hammer, would you Pete?"

When nothing happened, he glanced to his left in surprise, and found nothing there but empty space. After a moment, he heard someone from across the room chuckle softly.

"The kid isn't here, Stark," Banner reminded him with a snort, tapping on a piece of crystal experimentally. "Remember? You kicked him out last week because you said you were working on something, in quote, 'super top secrety'."

Tony laughed under his breath. "Oh, right. Aw man. Now I don't have a little slave at the mercy of my bidding. How will I ever get anything done?"

A weight suddenly fell into his still-outstretched hand, which he barely managed to grasp in startled surprise. Stark glanced up and found that a tall, clunky robot, one of the first he'd ever made, had rolled up beside him. The robot itself was basically one long arm with a claw for grabbing on the end attached to a mobile base. In Tony's hand sat the hammer he had requested. The robot released an inquisitive little whistle, as if it was asking for approval from its master.

"Ah. Couldn't forget about you, Dum-E. You'll always be my original slave." He examined the hammer and gave the robot a pat. "Good boy."

The robot trilled gleefully and rolled away.

"So what are you working on, anyway?" Bruce asked without looking up from his project. "And why can't Peter help you with it?"

Stark tapped the hammer against the malleable material with care, a grin playing along his lips. "It's a surprise."

At this, Banner rolled his eyes. "For real, Stark? If I remember correctly, your last attempt to surprise someone didn't exactly work out. Well, I never asked her, but I would assume that Ms. Potts was not abundantly thrilled about that huge stuffed rodent you had installed in her living room back in Malibu."

"It was a giant bunny, and she absolutely adored it. Until my house blew up and it sunk to the bottom of the bay." He scooped up a rag from the table and wiped off his grimy hands and glistening forehead. "But anyway, trust me—this is much better than that surprise."

"I don't think anything you could add to those ridiculous suits of yours could make them any more surprising than they already are," Bruce remarked dubiously.

Stark shot him a mischievous smirk that immediately made Banner regret his words. He feared that challenging the labyrinthian mind of the great Tony Stark to such a feat would cause him to do something terrifyingly ridiculous, like installing a canon that fired flaming tacos from his forehead or something. He wouldn't put it past him. But after a moment, Tony simply shrugged and went back to work, his welding mask flipping back over his face.

"We'll see about that, Brucey. We'll see."

A moment later, the phone rang. It buzzed above the sound of their work as a continuous, obnoxious drawl. Shall I get that for you, sir? Jarvis asked him, and Stark murmured a passive "sure" in response.

Stark, Banner, you both there? a very serious voice spoke above their heads immediately after being clicked on. It was the iconic voice of Agent Phil Coulson, although he was sporting a startlingly icy tone. Both men shared a glance before answering.

"Yes, we're here. What's up?"

Coulson didn't waste a moment. His response made them both tense up in alarm.

I need both of you here right now. Anyone else if they're there too. This is a 7th level situation. An old enemy has resurfaced again.

The elevator finally reached the bottom floor, and the two Bugle employees rushed through the doors and sped out of the building. Out on the street, the two stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide in disbelief. People were flying past them in an absolute frenzy, screaming and panicking and glancing fearfully over their shoulders as they fled from the scene. Buildings were crumbling into piles of pulverized brick and twisted metal, spitting fumes of dusty debris as they fell prostrate. In the center of everything stood the cause of all the chaos, who was firing pulses of energy from a pair of strange devices attached to his fists. Even from the distance he stood at, Peter could hear the man laughing jubilantly as he blasted a gas station with his weaponized gloves, causing the entire lot to explode and a pillar of fire to bloom into the sky. Peter clutched on to his camera, glancing left and right with potent anxiety.

"I, um, I'll—" Peter stuttered frantically, eyeing an abandoned drug store across the street. "I have to get a better angle. You—just—don't die. Get somewhere safe. Interview someone or something. I'll meet up with you later!" With that, he sprinted across the road, feet pounding against the black pavement.

"What? Bro! W-wait a minute!"

Peter ignored him. He couldn't protect anybody as timid little Peter Parker—not without suffering an identity crisis, anyway, and the only way to solve that was to find a makeshift dressing room for an inconspicuous costume change. What he wouldn't give for a handy-dandy phone booth right now.

He leapt over a fallen trashcan and shoved himself through the busted doors of the store, grimacing as a jagged shard of glass grazed his shoulder before he managed to slip inside. The room he entered was in total disarray, with shelves collapsed on the floor, goods spilled across the tile, and broken lights sparking from above. Thankfully, no one else was inside. Shattered glass crackled underfoot as Peter sped briskly across the store and scrambled behind the counter, dropping to the floor as he flipped off his shoes and pulled his T-shirt up over his head. He reached into his pocket, retrieved his mask and gloves, and squirmed out of his skinny jeans in a jiffy. Underneath he wore his iconic red and blue spandex suit, which he'd made a habit of sporting beneath his street clothes. On went his gloves and mask, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a metal cabinet. He grinned satisfactorily. This guy was seriously going to regret ever trying to mess with his city.

Spider-Man stole through the store and popped open a back window. He squeezed his lanky body through and dangled above the ground by one hand, his sticky fingers supporting his entire weight with ease. Before crawling up and away, however, a realization struck him, and he turned around and aimed his wrist back inside the empty store. Peter pressed his two middle fingers against the center of his palm, and a strand of organic webbing zipped from his skin, accelerated rapidly as it travelled through his web-shooters, and splattered against his camera that still sat on the counter. He whipped it into his hand and wrapped it around his shoulder, then began scaling the wall swiftly.

Peter rounded the crown of the store and sprinted across the roof, crouching low to the concrete when he reached the opposing edge. Down on the street, the psychotic man was still enjoying his sporadic incursion on the city as he released blasts of compressed air every which way from his gauntlets. The blasts shattered the windows of a nearby bakery and turned its stone body into a heap of chalky rubble. Peter swung his camera off his back and stuck it to the wall high above the scene. While protecting people from baddies was his top priority, using this situation to possibly save his slippery photographer job was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He set his camera on continuous self-shooter mode, webbed it in place, then glanced back down below. The man's hands had dropped to his sides, and he stared across his circumference of destruction, appearing somewhat displeased.

"Where you at, bug?" he suddenly cried out, balling up his gloved fists. "Boss said all's I had to do was cause a lil' ruckus and you'd come crawling right out lickety-split. So where are yah then, huh?"

At this Peter narrowed his eyes behind his mask. Wait a minute, he thought confusedly. Did he say 'bug'? As in, me? As in, another idiot mistaking arachnids for insects?

Was this guy trying specifically to draw Spider-Man out to fight him? That was his motive for causing all this destruction? Seemed kinda suspicious—that or just arrogantly stupid. Then he shook his head and dropped his body low against the roof. He'd worry about that later—after he pummeled his ass.

"Hello, kind sir!" Spider-Man called back, leaping off the building and landing on the pavement just behind the man. The criminal whipped around rapidly, his eyes widening in surprise, and Peter grimaced. "Or, geez, should I say, yellow, kind sir. I mean, wow, don't you think trashing the city with those explosive gauntlet things is showboaty enough? No need to dress like a damn highlighter because you're feeling a little attention-starved. Childish man, just childish."

Out of all of his bizarre battles and quirky quarrels, Peter had never run into anyone like this guy before. He was wearing what appeared to be a suit made of bright yellow quilt with red paneling on his midsection and arms. His entire body and face were concealed inside the costume, with the only part of him visible being his eyes behind a pair of translucent green goggles. Peter felt a sharp pang of second-hand embarrassment for the man and whoever was deciding his sickeningly gaudy wardrobe.

"Ah, now there yah are," the man finally said in his thick southern accent, forcing his rigid shoulders to relax. "What took you so long, bug?"

"If we're being honest, I kinda thought the day was over with, so I was actually heading home. But then I saw this glaring bright light, so radiant and sparkly that I surely thought the sun was coming back up! That's when I came here and found you, my friend. Do tell me where I can find that hideous fabric you're wearing, 'cause I could really use it to lure the moths off my front porch at night."

The man glared at him irritably. "Damn. Them boys told me you was obnoxious, but they didn't say it was this bad." He held his fist up in front of his face, his eyes locked fiercely on Peter's skinny form. "Anyways, enough gab. I wasn't hired to bicker with yah, now was I?"

"Well, I wouldn't know," Peter replied suspiciously, suddenly very curious. "Hired, huh? Do enlighten me: what were you hired to do, and by who, exactly?"

"Now that ain't none of your business, is it?" the man stated quickly, acknowledging the mistake he'd made in saying that, and assumed a firm stance in the center of the road. Then he raised his hand forward, and a strange pulsing noise garbled from his gauntlet. Immediately, and somewhat to his surprise, Peter's spidey sense erupted inside his head, and his body went stiff.

"But unfortunately, bug, you are my business."

A concentrated blast fired from his fist and flew at Spider-Man with incredible speed. Startled, Peter leapt to the right just before the air blast could strike him and felt it whoosh past his body as he rolled along the ground. A crash sounded from behind him, and yet another building was brought to ruins from the man's destructive onslaught. Peter hopped into a low crouch, frowning a bit, and glared across the way at the man who now stood clearly smirking beneath his mask.

"My, are you troublesome," Peter noted, rising cautiously to his feet. "What sort of business are you referring to, anyway? Mercenary work? 'Cause with that accent, I was convinced you were one of those rodeo clowns from the traveling freak circus."

"You wish, bug," he barked, adding his left hand to the equation. The two gauntlets began firing off in rapid succession, and Peter had to hop about like he was dancing on hot coals to keep from being knocked off his feet. He sprung into the air and fired a glob of webbing at his enemy's face, which slapped across his goggles and rendered him temporarily blinded. Landing quickly, Spider-Man bolted across the street and tackled the man to the ground, causing him to grunt in surprise as they slid against the pavement. Once stopped, Peter held him down by his shoulders, his enhanced strength allowing him to keep him restrained quite easily.

"Well then," Peter said smugly, webbing the man's arms to ground with fluid from his wrists. "You know what my business is, mister? Putting reckless bastards like you in their place. Which just so happens to be behind bars in a cozy little prison cell." He followed by coating his legs in webbing as he spoke. "I'd call New York's finest to come and get you, but I'm pretty sure they'll be here soon enough, if the fashion police don't beat them to it, that is. Seriously, your whole getup literally screams arrest me—as to how many violations you've committed, I couldn't put a number on it. It probably includes a few traffic laws. But hey, look on the bright side: maybe they'll let you work off your parole if you stand out by New York Harbor at night. You could be a volunteer lighthouse! Sounds like a pretty good deal in my opinion, wouldn't you agree—?"

All of sudden, his quippage roll was cut off by a jarring pain that throbbed throughout his whole body. A feeling like he was being struck with a shockwave rippled inside him, seemingly radiating from the suit the man was wearing, and Peter was flung backwards. Spider-Man fell hard against the concrete, his brain rattling inside his skull and his swirling vision fighting to refocus on the world around him. Black dots flickered in the sky above, and he tried to blink them away with little success. Gritting together his teeth, Peter sluggishly raised himself upright, clutching his head in his hand and groaning.

"Wh...what the hell?" he sputtered, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to rise to his feet. "What did you just...?"

"Vibro-shock weapons technology," his adversary explained to him, wiping off the webbing still clinging to his arms effortlessly as he stood and strolled towards him, "developed by yours truly, and upgraded even more so by a higher power I'd best keep to myself. Quite a shock to the system, ain't it?" His eyes exuded a hostile eagerness, and he aimed his hand at a still half-dazed Spidey. "That's why them boys labeled me as such. Name's Shocker, bug, and don't go forgetting it."

Before he could blink, the strange pulsing noise sounded from his gauntlets again, and Peter's hazy eyes had barely registered the air blast that was zipping straight towards him before he felt it slam into his body. With a choked gasp, Spider-Man flew backwards and crashed into a brick wall, the wind knocked from his lungs and the impact leaving him stunned as he slid to the ground. A coughing fit seized him, and he bent over himself with a hand gripping his stomach, feeling as though he'd just been plowed into by a truck. Holy freaking crap, he thought in agony, fighting not to puke up his guts as he laid shivering on the ground. It feels like my insides have been crushed or something. What the hell did those gauntlets do to me?

"You should really be flattered by all the attention you're getting, bug," the man jeered, advancing on him evermore with both his fists poised to fire again at any moment. "All this fantastic tech, created just for the job of dealing with you."

"Aww, really? You shouldn't have," he managed to mutter out between coughs as he dragged himself to his feet, relying heavily on the wall to keep himself upright. "For future reference, chocolates and flowers work all the same. But do tell me: who's so intimidated to meet little ol' Spidey themselves that they sent you to do all their dirty work?"

Shocker fired another blast at his crumpled form, and Peter instinctually leapt high on to the wall, feeling the impact strike the brick beneath him and send quakes across the entire building.

"I told you, that ain't none of your business," he growled, shooting off more and more air blasts that peppered the wall with craters. "Now hold still so I's can squash yah."

Peter ducked and dodged frantically, feeling splinters of brick sting him from every which way, until he leapt off the sideways surface and flung himself over his adversary, who continued to fire his weaponized gloves in a relentless wave. As he flew, Spider-Man shot a web-line between his feet that latched on to Shocker's gauntlet, and he attempted to launch him across the street with the power of his forward momentum at his advantage. But Shocker simply vibrated his gauntlet with a click of his thumb, and the webbing fell away from his hand uselessly.

"Nice try, bug," he laughed, firing off another shock blast that met Peter's knee midair, "but my buddies studied up on you long and hard, you see. Ain't nothing you do that they don't know about, and ain't nothing you do I haven't prepared for."

Peter cried out in pain as he fell to the ground, a terrible ache shooting through his entire leg that bruised his muscles and drilled his bones. He struck the pavement hard and rolled along the street aways, the flesh of his back becoming arrayed with scrapes from the unforgiving asphalt. He was battling back against an unfamiliar fatigue, one he hadn't felt in a long time, and the sensation aggravated him immensely. He forced himself to his feet, having yet to fully recover, and leered across the road at his adversary, huffing out a breath and coiling his hands into fists. Despite the limp he now suffered, Spider-Man darted straight at the lemony-looking man, locked his legs out in front of his body, and slammed his feet into Shocker's chest with tremendous power. To his dismay, however, the man's suit seemed to completely absorb the force of his attack, and Shocker only stumbled back a few steps as Peter flipped backwards and landed low to the ground. Hoping to strike him as he was still off-balance, Spider-Man rushed Shocker and connected a strong punch against his cheek. No use: the suit rebounded the force of his fist back into his hand, causing a biting pain to jar his knuckles. He swung his leg around and landed a roundhouse kick right into his gut. The ricochet phenomena happened again, and his heel throbbed with the pain of his own attack. It was as if the Shocker's suit was surrounded by a forcefield of some sort, fabricated from the shockwaves the fabric released to keep his gauntlets from recoiling back on himself. The costume was designed to repel any incoming force, including those of his enemies, rendering all of Peter's attacks useless. Furiously, Spider-Man fired a web-line at Shocker's shoulder and yanked his body forward as he flew at him with his fist cocked back, aiming to slug his square between the eyes. Shocker was ready, however, and released a pulse of energy from his suit, sending Peter bouncing backwards with a yelp.

"Keep trying that, why don't yah," Shocker mocked him, jamming his fist forward. "I'm sure it'll work eventually."

Before he could reclaim equilibrium, another foreboding hum rang out, and Peter was struck once again with the incredible force of an air blast crashing into his ribcage. The attack had been from a much closer range, and Peter was flung all the way across the street. After reuniting with the ground, he felt his back slam into something cold and metal, which popped his spine and made his head snap back painfully. Moaning, Spider-Man's body sunk limply against the curb, his arms lying out at his sides and his head still resting against the metal object behind him. "D-dammit," he breathed, growing exceedingly frustrated. This was humiliating. He hadn't suffered a beating like this in ages. For the last four or five months, Spidey had defeated every baddie he'd run into without a hitch, sometimes foiling over six crimes in one night. Granted, those morons were just petty thieves and purse-snatchers who didn't stand a chance against the infamous web-crawler, while this guy appeared to be some kind of ridiculous hitman suited solely for the purpose of whooping his ass, but that didn't make him feel anymore okay with the situation. He was most definitely not in the mood to present Jameson with a bunch of photos of Spider-Man getting his ass handed to him by a man dressed like a luminescent banana. He had a reputation to uphold, not just with New York's civilian population, but with all the crooks out there who might consider messing with his city after watching him be beat in such an embarrassing fashion.

With new determination, Peter struggled to sit up, clawing at the curb and groaning as stabbing pains shot through his leg and abdomen. He reached out in front of himself to find more purchase, when his hand bumped into the cold object he had fallen against. He lifted his gaze, and discovered it to be a fire hydrant. His fingers curled around the barrel as he managed to stand unsteadily, and a cruel laugh sounded from behind him.

"Alright, enough toying with yah," Shocker sneered, charging up his gauntlets as he marched towards Spider-Man. "You've been a spritely little varmint to tangle with, but it's 'bout time you was made roadkill."

"Really? That was toying?" Peter grumbled, gripping his chest and breathing heavily as he bent over the fire hydrant. He had to buy himself some time to think. "Well, now I know what a day in the life of a bowling pin feels like. Thanks for that. Hope it was entertaining for you, although I doubt whoever you're working for is appreciating your lack of urgency."

"Ain't nothing wrong with having a little fun on the job, as long as you get it done in the end." Shocker aimed his whirring gauntlets at a panting Spider-Man, setting off Peter's spidey sense and making him cringe. "And I believe it's about time I finished mine."

"So soon?" Spider-Man inquired, hopping behind the fire hydrant and stooping low to the ground. "Come on, man. We only just met! You can't judge a guy on a first-impression basis like that. I can be surprising likable, if you take the time to get to know me. And you can't do that if you up and kill me right now, you know?" He cocked his head to the side nervously. "So what do yah say? Dinner at my place?"

"I say shut the hell up and stop hiding like a coward," he spat, his gauntlets radiating with energy. "You're dying, bug, right here and now. Might as well make it honorable and face it like a man, if yah have that in yah."

Peter stroked his chin in thought. "You're right, you're right. Too formal." He curled his hands around the barrel of the fire hydrant. "You're far too zesty for that sort of thing. I'd say the pair of us need a nice night out on the town together, then. Dance clubs, good music, overpriced Italian food—"

Peter dug his fingers into the red metal, and the hydrant crumpled like tin foil beneath his powerful grip.

"—but most of all—"

With one quick jerk, Spider-Man bent the fire hydrant backwards, releasing a torrent of pressurized water straight at Shocker.

"—I think you seriously need a drink!"

Before he could react, Shocker was blasted back by the powerful spray, gurgling out a strangled wail of shock as he slid on his heels. For the first few moments, he was able to fend off the jetting water with strong vibrations from his gauntlets, and Peter's plan appeared as yet another fluke. Before long, however, the water penetrated inside the gauntlet's mechanics, and sparks of electricity began to snake from his fists. Shocker let out a gasp, and with a defeated buzz, his weaponized gloves short-circuited, and he was instantly thrown back beneath the full power of the pounding spout. He flew across the street before skidding to a stop, sputtering in a lonely puddle as his broken gauntlets powered down uselessly. The remainder of the totaled fire hydrant tore away from the concrete as water gushed outwards, redirecting the geyser vertically and showering the road in a heavy rain. Breathing laboriously, Spider-Man trudged across the street and loomed over his downed enemy, who lied in a motionless daze. Water from above drizzled over them both, and Peter hinted a grin.

"That one's on the house. Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

Police sirens howled in the distance, and Peter crushed Shocker's already broken gauntlets with a few quick punches before sealing him against the street in a snuggly cocoon of webbing. He didn't want to risk a cop getting a face-full of vibro-shock.

"That outta hold you. I gotta thank you for the work-out, but I think you've done enough damage for one day. Mostly to my internal organs." He glanced over his shoulder, marveling in the heavy downpour that soaked through his suit and cooled his sweaty skin, watching as the arched spout caught the glint of the sun and spread a rainbow across the sky. He noticed that a few straggling people still outlined the battlefield, eyes wide and mouths agape. Some of them were lying injured on the ground. The block was a mess from the Shocker's destruction, and Peter's smirk quickly faded.

"For real though, Shocker. I don't know what you were trying to prove with all of that, or who the hell is paying you to try and kill me, but the pair of you need to chill. I understand you have attention issues and think throwing a tantrum will make you feel better, but innocent people are getting caught in the wake of it. Both of you best lay off and behave yourselves, 'cause I promise you'll regret it if you don't." Then Peter chuckled. "Well, I guess you do already. Forgot about the whole 'life in prison' deal you've locked yourself into now." He leaned over his fallen enemy with his hands on his hips, his voice dropping into a threatening whisper. "So why don't you tell me your employer buddy's name now so I can pay him a visit and settle this thing once and for all? You've got nothing to lose, anyway—besides your front teeth."

The man coughed a few times through the fabric of his suit, an incoherent murmur of pain slipping between his lips. His eyes slitted open behind his goggles, which now had cracks snaking throughout the transparent glass. Fury boiled behind his pupils, threatening to burn clean through Peter's masked face, but after a few moments, it slowly melted away, replaced by an eerie and arrogant collectiveness.

"You s-stupid bug..." he wheezed out, his chest popping up and down as he half-laughed, half-choked on the ground. "You really think...it's just two of us?"

Peter stood silent for a moment, unresponsive. Absently he rubbed at his chin, then gave a carless shrug.

"Well, um, I mean, I kinda assumed—"

Spidey sense. It struck him with a sudden tenacity, and out of sheer reactive instinct he sprung away from Shocker and dropped to the pavement, muscles coiled beneath his skin.

Right as he'd leapt backwards, something had swooped low from above, passing a shadow across the asphalt as it rocketed just above his head. The object zipped past Shocker's trapped body, extending what looked like a giant wing down almost to the ground and slicing through Peter's webbing. Twice it did this, and with a powerful twist Shocker tore himself free of his spidery bonds and was on his feet, leering at a speechless Peter from across the road with a smug glint in his eye.

"Reckon you're the one regretting now, bug," he jeered, clutching his chest and standing unsteadily, still clearly in pain. "I'll be sure to have a nice, long talk about you with the boss. Don't you worry."

Coming to his senses, Spider-Man shook his head and darted straight for Shocker. "You son of a—"

He was too late. The flying bird whatever-the-hell-it-was shot down from the sky, scooped up Shocker by the armpits, and zipped straight back into the air. Cursing, Peter leapt upwards and fired multiple web-cables from his wrists, hoping that one would snag on to his two ascending enemies, but the pair of them were high into the clouds far out of reach within seconds. Off they vanished behind a wall of misty white, and Peter fell back to the ground, hands dropping to his sides, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

He couldn't believe it. He'd let that bastard get away.

As he stood idly in the center of the street, gripping his throbbing stomach and marveling at his own idiocy, a tumult of police sirens came flying to the scene from behind him, and he cringed irritably. A little tardy to the party, aren't we?

Once parked in a messy jumble, eight men in blue stepped out of their cars, armed and poised for action, only to find before them a demolished street block and a roughed-up Spidey standing in the road, and no apprehended baddies. They lowered their weapons confusedly.

"What happened here?" one of them called out, striding towards Peter with the rest of his crew trailing behind him cautiously. "We heard there was some psycho blowing up the street out here. Where's he at? Did you nab him, Spidey?"

Peter rubbed at his belly sorely. "No. I—I don't know," he admitted, glancing back up at the empty skies. "I had him beat, but some other thing showed up and flew off with him. I don't know who or what it was, but it escaped with them both. He got away."

"Got away?" a mustachioed cop in the back of the formation blurted out in disbelief, sweeping his gaze across the pulverized landscape. "After all this, you let him escape? Damn, what the hell are you good for? I told you this idiot couldn't be trusted."

At this Peter became livid, and he whipped around. "Seriously, dude?I'm not the one who took four billion years to get here. I had him all webbed up about five seconds before you guys arrived, until his flying friend suddenly showed up and snatched him away. I've never dealt with someone like this before. Sorry I couldn't keep the nutcase restrained long enough for you all to drag your asses here in time."

"I can't believe the higher-ups still think you're some kind of hero," he shouted back, gripping his gun tightly in his fist. "You're just some faceless freak who claims to be on our side. For all we know, you just let him get away." The jerk-faced cop glanced left and right at his colleagues, who flanked him on either side. "Perhaps Spidey's gotten bored with the heroics and has decided to use his powers for something more self-beneficiary. What do yah say, boys? You still buy his charade? I for one do not, and think we should finish off this nobody once and for all."

To Peter's shock, the other policemen shared looks of uncertainty, as if what he was saying was actually something debatable. They fingered their weapons nervously, and the air became taut with tension. At his sides Peter's hands balled furiously, and his teeth gritted together in his mouth.

Do these assholes have any idea how much I've sacrificed to—

"Alright, Robert, that's enough," the chief finally snapped over his shoulder, forcing the man's gun down with a rough shove. "You forget your place. Keep your trap shut and quit trying to stir up trouble, or I'll report you to the commanders." He turned back to Spider-Man, who was still locked in a defensive-looking stance. "Obviously this guy is dangerous if he managed to get away from you, Spider-Man. I'll deploy a search team across the city to find him, and then we'll—"

"I'll find him," Peter interjected bitterly, turning on his heels and marching away from the cluster of policemen. "He's too dangerous for any of you to handle. I don't want anyone else getting hurt. Shocker is mine to take care of, alright? Just stay out of my way." Then he paused for a moment, not looking back. "There are still some injured people around here that need help. You worry about seeing to them."

Before the policemen could object, Spider-Man fired a web strand at the crest of the drug store building, flipped himself on to the dusty brick, and crawled up to the roof, out of anyone's sight. He made a beeline across the neighboring rooftops, his footsteps soft and fleet. As he vaulted across the void between two opposing buildings, he couldn't shrug the anger swimming through his blood. Those policemen were morons. How could they still think Spidey was anything but their friendly neighborhood crime-stopper? He supposed he would always have naysayers, no matter how much good he did…

Then something occurred to him, and he slammed on his brakes. The Bugle! My pictures! Oh crap!

Peter whirled around, leapt off the roof, and brachiated back the way he had come. Making sure the police officers had dismissed him as departed, he grabbed his clothes out of the drug store, snatched up his camera, and disappeared back into the shadows.

On his way back to the Bugle, swinging high above the bustling streets, Spider-Man released a defeated sigh.

Wonder if Eddie is having better luck than I am.

I guess it's pretty dadgum obvious-I'm getting A LOT of inspiration for this story from the Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon. In reality it's going to be a big hodgepodge of everything Spidey that I enjoy the most (now including comics cuz I've finally started reading them yippie!). So yep, there's that. Yay summer and more chappies soon to come!

...On a side note, I'm so excited for Spider-Man to join the Avengers in the future movies. EDIT: And now the actor has apparently been chosen and I was wrong! Tom Holland will be playing Spider-Man in the new reboot oh my gooosh! He's precious! I'm excited to see what he'll bring to the table! Whoop whoop!