Chapter 3

In the short time Peter had been Spider-Man, he learned a few things about the criminal element. One, they aren't necessarily the brightest crayons in the box. Two, there's usually a revolving door of talent involved. And three, they love the docks. It could be something about the water that gets them going. And there is a lot of dock space surrounding New York.

A few days after Spider-Man's chance encounter with the Oldsmobile goons, the rest of the crew was active. Packing up supplies. Moving locations. Spider-Man had stumbled into something bigger than himself. He was trying to be better. He alone was responsible for doing the right thing. But what's the old saying? No good deed goes unpunished.

Another dock across town was getting shuttered. Two goons were loading crates and supplies onto a moving truck. A shadowy figure lurks in the rafters above.

"Let me get this straight. Boss said that a Man-Spider killed Franky G?" the first goon asked incredulously.

"Nah, mook, a Spider-Man. Spider. Man." the second goon replied while sitting the crate on the truck.

"Whatevah! You tellin' me we gotta look over our shoulders for some eight-legged freak now?"

The second goon wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to reply

"Nah, nah, it ain't gonna be like that."

"How so?" the first goon asked with a smear of dubiousness.

"Tombstone said he was gonna lay a trap. Lure the itsy-bitsy-punk to him, then BAM, squash him."

The first goon's eyebrows raised, and his mouth dropped.

"Ohhh yeah yeah, that's smart. That's smart."

The second goon grabbed the truck's rollup door and closed it, locking it with a padlock.

"Yeah, I mean, he killed Franky G. The boys are mad about that. Plus, that warehouse had a huge shipment of tech. All part of some deals the big man was working out."

"Ah dip, you don't mess with the big guy's money." The first goon was wiping the dust off of himself.

The second goon pointed at the first, "Exactly. Hence the trap and all dat. Also, why we are packing up shop and moving. No chances."

"Smart. Smart." the first goon nodded his head in agreement.

A loud noise rang out across the empty warehouse. The two goons jumped as they pulled their weapons from their coats.

"The hell was that?" the first goon whispered.

"Can it, Tony. Let's check the back."

Both goons began searching the area. They only made it a few feet before the shadowy figure in the rafters descended upon them.

The figure spin-kicked the first goon into the truck, knocking him unconscious immediately. The second goon tried emptying his gun but got it smashed into his face instead. He fell onto his back, blood spilling from his nose. The shadowy figure gave him one final kick for good measure.

The figure stood tall above the unconscious criminals. He stepped away from the truck as the bay door light illuminated him fully for the first time.

He was tall, wearing a thick, red leather suit. He was carrying two batons on his hip. A red mask covered his face, eyes glowing dark red, with two leather horns protruding from his head. He rolled his head around his shoulders and let out a long sigh.

"Well…that's not good." Daredevil had stumbled upon privileged information.

The Next Afternoon –

Peter was staying late after school. There was an unfortunate webbing accident at home, and Peter needed a computer for research. He was kicking himself for over-pressurizing his last batch of web fluid. He halfway explained the predicament to Mr. Larson, who graciously allowed Peter to stay late and use the lab desktops. This ended up being a win-win for Peter. He got to use a computer for research and wouldn't have to worry about being discreet with his own. The school computers got a weekly memory wipe anyway.

Peter had found the name of the Oldsmobile goon that died. Franklin Giormanatto. He was 38. No kids. No wife. From his social media profiles, it looked like he was a career goon. Peter had been pouring over every picture he could find that would give him any clues. Whoever Franky G was, he was wrapped up in something big. The tech in those crates was highly advanced. He couldn't remember any logos, but just from the look of it, it wasn't your everyday Best Buy purchase. Somebody was moving bleeding-edge tech around the city.

"Are they terrorists?" Peter pondered, leaning back in his chair.

"No, no, that's not it. Whoever is running this has connections in the city."

Peter hung his head in his hands. It'd been four days of after-school research, and he still needed to get somewhere. Peter clicked on one last picture before giving up. Peter started to turn the monitor off when something caught his eye.

It was a picture of Franky G with two of the goons from the other night. They were in a bar. Peter recognized a few other criminals in the background. Above the bar was a neon sign that said "The Colombian."

The Colombian was a shady bar that was a known criminal hangout. Peter had swung by it several times, tailing carjackers and purse-snatchers. This was his first real break in the mystery he fell into. Peter knew he had to start with The Colombian to get anywhere.

Gwen popped into the computer lab, startling Peter's concentration.

"SURPRISE, PETE!" Gwen announced with eagerness. Gwen always did enjoy a good jump scare. Peter nearly knocked the monitor off the table. He still needed to figure out the ins and outs of his spider-sense.

"Haha, dang, Pete. I didn't mean to scare you that bad. Mr. Larson got you nervous or something?"

Peter nervously chuckled. "sorry, I was really into my research. You know how it is. Remember when you fell on your science fair project?"

Gwen rolled her eyes and pouted. "Ugh, YES. Dad had been waiting days to get me back after I made him spill coffee on his new uniform. He sure got me good. I was picking volcano foam out of my hair for a week!"

"Let's get a snack. I'm starving. I barely finished my bag of chips at lunch. Hot dogs?" Gwen tilted her head towards Peter.

Peter clapped his hands and pointed at Gwen. "Hot dogs."

The duo left school and went around the block to Rico's Hot Dogs. Rico used to sell from a cart on the corner but was able to move into the empty suite behind him. Gwen and Pete loved his Hawaiian Dog and the El Train Special.

Peter and Gwen finished up their snack and exited the storefront. As they rounded the corner, they bumped into Harry Osborn walking out of a jewelry store.

"HARRY!" Gwen shouted with excitement. Harry wasn't expecting to see his classmates, let alone be yelled at by one.

"Oh, uh, hey guys. It's, uh, good to see you." Harry sounded paranoid. Peter and Gwen had made much progress getting Harry to open up. Well, Gwen had. Much to Harry's chagrin. But today, he seemed a little preoccupied. Like he wanted to be anywhere but with Peter and Gwen.

"Ya know, Harry, you still haven't told me your favorite snack!"

Peter noticed Harry's demeanor, but Gwen was oblivious. Still, she was as persistent as ever. She saw Harry holding a fancy bag.

"Oooh, who's the jewelry for? Got you a big date, new kid?" Gwen asked innocently. If Gwen thought you were friends, nothing was off-limits to her. She wanted to be involved in your life, and there wasn't much you could do about it. At least she came off as sweet the majority of the time. Like a stray puppy wanting belly rubs, it's hard to say no.

Harry looked at the bag in his hand. Peter sensed the awkwardness and tried to make a joke to put everyone at ease.

"Is it 24K gold? I've never seen gold carrots, let alone 24 of them!" blurted Peter.

Harry and Gwen both slowly looked at Peter like he had two heads.

Ouch. Swing and a miss. Peter wanted to web-swing into traffic at that very moment.

Before Gwen could salvage the situation, a limousine pulled up in front of the trio. The backdoor swung open, and a man stepped out. He was tall, at least 6'3". He had short, wavy hair. He had broad shoulders, and although he wore a suit, you could tell he was fit. Peter instantly recognized him as Norman Osbon. Norman was the namesake of OSCORP. A wildly influential man, Norman left poverty to become a business powerhouse. He had built a clean energy reactor straight out of college that put his name on the map. With the sale of his invention, Norman was able to build his empire. Peter had read so much about him that he was a little star-struck.

"Harry, these must be the friends you mentioned."

Norman stuck out his hand to greet both Peter and Gwen.

"Norman Osborn. You must be Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Peter and Gwen were both taken aback. Norman was such a busy man, but he still had time to remember the names of two random kids Harry went to school with. Harry rolled his eyes and turned his head annoyingly.

"Yeah, Dad, these are my lab partners. I thought you were picking me up at Hager's?"

Dad? Is Norman Harry's Dad? Peter knew they had to have a familial connection with the last name Osborn. Still, he never expected him to be Norman's son.

"I was on my way when I saw you talking with your friends. I wanted to introduce myself. It's the polite thing to do."

Harry looked defeated.

"I'm so happy Harry has had the chance to make friends. I was worried that it'd be a hard transition for him, considering this was his first time in the public school system. But then he told me about you two. Two smart kids like you looking out for my Harry is more than I could have asked for. Strong support is all I've ever wanted for my boy. Both of you are forever in my debt. As a matter of fact, because of you two, the Osborn Initiative has made donations to the NYPD and FEAST. I wanted to ensure your father, Gwen, and your aunt, Peter, had the support they needed. It's the least I could do for what you've done for Harry."

Norman was beaming with pride as he put his arm around Harry. Peter was gobsmacked. Gwen immediately hugged Norman.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Osborn!" Gwen squealed into his expensive suit coat.

"Haha, of course! Oh, Harry, did you mention the gala this weekend?"

Harry's head shot up toward his father sharply.

"He did not!" Gwen said, her hands on her hips with her head cocked toward Harry.

"Well, the Osborn Initiative is hosting a gala this Saturday for the beneficiaries of several grants we allocate. Since the NYPD and FEAST are officially beneficiaries, you are officially invited!"

Peter was still trying to process that Harry was Norman's son. Harry looked like he wanted to melt. Gwen was uncharacteristically excited.

"The gala starts at 6. It is formal, of course. I look forward to seeing you."

Norman shook Peter and Gwen's hands one more time.

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Come, Harry, we'll get to Hager's before dinner."

Harry and Norman entered the limo and rode off down the street.

Peter wasn't so sure about going to the gala, especially after the breakthrough he had made in the computer lab earlier. But Gwen was pumped.

"We have to go, Pete. This is exactly the kind of thing my therapist was talking about. If I'm going to conquer my social fears, I need to face social situations. I need to do this, but I want you to join me. You're, like, the number one person I trust. Even though my therapist suggested I put myself into these situations, she also said it was okay to have a safety net. And you're my safety net, Pete. If I get too overwhelmed, I need to lean on you. Is..is that okay?"

Gwen looked at Peter with her big eyes. Even with her glasses, her eyes looked twice as big. A puppy dog wanting belly rubs. Peter couldn't say no.

"Plus, this might help get your mind off of things. Ya know school, your uncle. It might be good for both of us."

Peter knew Gwen was right.

"Yeah, Gwen, let's do it. It'll be fun! Plus, we get a free trip to OSCORP. If I'm ever going to work there one day, it might be good to get the networking started."

Peter and Gwen strolled off down the street. Gwen's mind was filled with anticipation. So was Peter's. But something tells me it was for different reasons.

Later That Night -

Peter swung around an apartment building, landing on the roof next to it. It took him two days to remove the pepper spray from his mask. For the first time in days, Spider-Man could finally breathe like usual. Peter needed all the normal breathing he could muster. He was perched above the alleyway entry to The Colombian. He needed to be serious if he would do the responsible thing and use his powers to better the community. This mystery he fell into was more profound than he realized. Peter had no idea what was in store for him. Regardless of his ignorance, Peter knew making progress started with The Colombian.

After several hours, Peter noticed two goons drunkenly stumbling out of the bar. He recognized one of them from Franky G's pictures. He was even wearing the same shirt. Peter guessed there was no solid fashion sense in the criminal underworld.

As the goons make their way down the alley, Peter drops down to confront them.

"YOU!" the first goon screamed. He took a drunken step and swung a wild punch. Peter didn't need his spider-sense to help him with that one. The goon tripped forward, and Peter pushed him into a garbage can, webbing him to three sacks. The second goon fumbled with his pants, trying to get his weapon out. Peter webbed his feet together and pushed him over.

"Wow. That was easier than I thought it would be." Peter chuckled to himself.

The second goon let out a slew of obscenities.

"Geeze, dude, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? I don't want to think about that. You got some gross teeth, bro. Your boss not paying your dental?" Peter joked.

"Screw you, Man-Spider!" the goon barked.

"Uh, it's Spider-Man." Peter almost sounded hurt.

"WHATEVAH! You killed Franky G! It's all your fault. We've had to move bases all week because of you! I ain't even had a decent drink till tonight, and you ruined that too!" the goon was seething with drunken venom.

"Ahhh, poor criminal! You know, many jobs allow you to drink without being webbed up by your local vigilante!" Peter was almost having too much fun.

"Who do you work for? I know that tech in those crates was probably above your pay grade, but what were you doing with them?" Peter put on his best interrogator voice.

"I ain't tellin' you squat!" the goon spat at Spider-Man.

"Who's paying you? Who was the shipment for?" Peter started to get annoyed.

The goon tried breaking free from the webs, but Peter's new formula was stronger than ever.

"Okay, let's try it a different way!" Peter said with a smile.

"Wait, wh-" the goon started to reply, but Spider-Man flipped him upside down. Peter swung the both of them to the top of the fire escape. He held the goon by the feet, dangling him above the dumpster.

"Where did you move it? Where is the tech? Come on, man. Make it easier for both of us." Peter tried reasoning with the goon.

"Screw. You. Put me down!" the goon was thrashing harder than ever.

Peter sighed. "You got it, boss."

Peter dropped him. The goon screamed his way down four stories and cried after Peter stopped him from hitting bottom.

"Are you done yet?" Peter asked the screaming goon.

The goon stopped. Looked Spider-Man in the face and, after a beat, vomited all over the ground.

"Okay, -blegh-, okay. Pier 23. That's where we moved it. Tombstone said we had to move it all there because the boss didn't trust you wouldn't find another stash. Better to keep one eye on everything than spread it all out. Now PUT ME DOWN!" the goon sounded relieved. Peter dropped him into his pile of vomit.

Who is Tombstone? Peter figured he must be further up the food chain with a name like that. Peter felt a little excited. The first successful interrogation of his first true mystery. But now he had more questions. Like this Tombstone guy. Or what the heck that tech was or what it was for.

"One step at a time," Peter thought to himself.

Peter swung back up to the roof he perched on earlier. He took a moment to stare across the city and reflect on this new information.

Unexpectedly, his spider-sense streaked through his brain.

Peter spun around and shot a web blast into the darkness behind him. The moon was obscured by dark clouds, the city lights the only source of vision. A shadowy figure flipped over Spider-Man, throwing a baton at his feet. Peter's spider sense gave him plenty of warning to dodge the attack. Peter flipped backward, but the figure was immediately on top of him. Unbalanced, Peter rolled back to get a better stance. Peter and the shadowy figure began to trade blows. Every punch Peter threw was countered perfectly. His moves were almost effortless. A punch, a kick, a flipping springboard dive, the figure had an answer for everything. As much as he could counter, Peter didn't get the vibe he was trying to hurt him. It started to feel more like a test.

Peter's spider-sense saved him from a roundhouse kick, allowing him to kick the figure off balance. Peter jumped onto an AC unit.

"What the heck, man? Who even are y–" Peter tried to get some answers, but the figure had other plans. He rolled backward and threw his baton at the same time. Peter wasn't quick enough to dodge this one. The weapon smacked his face, knocking him from his whirling perch. Peter started rubbing his face when the figure approached him. He bent down, retrieved his baton, and stuck his hand out to help Spider-Man up.

This would be the first time Spider-Man met Daredevil.

"Ahh," Peter rubbed his face with one hand and accepted Daredevil's offer with the other. "What was that about?"

Peter finally got a good look at who was standing in front of him.

"Holy-...are you, like, a demon or something?" Peter was half amused, half scared.

"Something like that," Daredevil responded, helping Peter off the ground.

"You know your stuff, Spider. I've heard about you. You do a lot of good work."

Peter was surprised. He recognized Daredevil as a vigilante operating for a few years but didn't expect him to know about Spider-Man.

"Ah, geez, well, thanks, Mr. Dare-" Peter's pleasantries were cut off.

"But the people you're messing with now. Those guys down there? Their boss? It's way above your pay grade."

Peter stood slightly slackjawed.

"Why are you messing with them in the first place?" Daredevil seemed sincere with his question.

Peter recounted the past month's activities. How his uncle died. How he thought he found the killer. Franky G's death. The stash of tech in the warehouse. Peter laid it out, every detail. Daredevil relaxed slightly. A story like that resonated with him. It wasn't his first time around the block.

"Instead of revenge, I'm trying to do the right thing. If I can take these thugs down, maybe what happened to my uncle won't happen to anyone else." Peter was full of pride. He knew what he was doing was right.

"My uncle used to say…a lot of things. But his main point boiled down to responsibility. With great power comes great responsibility. People like us, DD, can I call you DD? People like us have the power to be better. It's up to us to try to make things right."

"I get you, kid, but these guys aren't purse snatchers. They aren't carjackers. You ran across the wrong territory. They won't stop until they put you down. God forbid they ever figure out who you are under that mask."

Daredevil was right. Peter didn't know how deep this went. But that didn't mean he would stop. He had to keep fighting. He had to do the right thing.

"Help me." Peter offered confidently.

"You know more than I do. Help me do this. Help me take these guys down."

Daredevil dropped his shoulders and leaned his head back. Peter could tell he was giving it a lot of thought. He let out a deep sigh.

"Yes and no."

Peter didn't know whether to hug him or jump off the roof.

"Huh?"

Daredevil turned to face Peter.

"I can't help you with this fight. I've been down this road too many times. I know how this ends. Plus, I've got my issues to worry about right now."

Peter started to feel a pit in his stomach, "But…?"

Daredevil sighed again. "But, I do have some information for you. The people you crossed. They're laying a trap for you. I heard two goons talking about it last night. Tombstone and his men are going to take you down. Or, at least, try to."

There's that name again. Tombstone. If Daredevil spoke of him like that, he must be bad news.

"I just got info out of that guy down there," Peter pointed toward the ground. "He said they moved everything to Pier 23."

"That's it. That's where it's going down. It's a trap waiting for you." Daredevil said, sounding sure of himself.

"Look, I know you don't want to go the distance with me. That's fine. Doing this alone is fine. That won't stop me. But, if you won't help me win the war, will you help me with the first battle?"

Daredevil raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

"I have an idea. How do you feel about spandex?" Peter moved closer to Daredevil and laid out his plan. They spoke for several minutes. At times it seemed like Daredevil wanted to leave. His body language was less than excited. Peter was over-animated as usual. At the end of their discussion, both men shook hands.

"I'll help you get in, but you're alone with Tombstone." Daredevil stepped up to the ledge. "Saturday. 8 o'clock. Pier 23. Don't be late."

Daredevil leaped from the roof, disappearing into the streets below.

Peter stood with anxious anticipation. His mouth suddenly went dry.

"Saturday. 8 o'clock. Pier 23." Peter repeated to himself. It was time to blow this mystery wide open.

Elsewhere in the City -

Rain started pelting the city with percussive blows. A highrise building took the brunt of the front moving through. Inside the penthouse suite, a man sat in his office chair with his back to his desk, his face obscured by the stormy night. His office was immaculate. A massive oak desk was adorned with gold trim. Several paintings hung on the walls behind him. The man's cell phone rang. He answered and raised it to his ear.

"Everything is prepped, boss. Tombstone has the place rigged, and one of his runners laid the bait. He was right. All we had to do was feed the boys the good info, let'em get a little loud, and the Spider came crawling. Do you think this is risky? What if this goes sideways?"

Hammerhead's voice echoed through the marble office. The man in the chair spoke softly.

"Are you doubting me?"

"No sir, no sir. I just wanna be sure," Hammerhead replied quickly, with anxiousness in his voice.

"Then get it done!" The man yelled into his phone.

The office intercom lit up. The man's assistant spoke over the speaker.

"Sir, MR. NO is here for the meeting."

"Send him in," the man replied before returning to Hammerhead.

"Look, wrap this bug problem up. I'm trusting Tombstone, but Tombstone is your guy. If this gets out of hand, I'll break you in half as an example. GET IT DONE!" The man screamed once again, smashing his phone into the oak desk.

Daredevil was right. Peter had no idea what was waiting for him.

End chapter 3