Even with a tiring study and exercise routine, Peter's afternoon run was almost a moment of leisure. He knew the speed he had to maintain to be really exercising, but after doing this for weeks he had gotten used to it, so it was a lot more comfortable. He used that time to think about different things and to ease his mind.

Peter liked to run through the center of Forest Hills. It was very comfortable most of the time. He knew streets to avoid the crowds and he liked to see the shopkeepers he knew and the brick buildings became familiar to him. It was just after 5:30, so the sun was beginning to set. Around this time, the sun would be in his eyes, so he brought out a pair of sunglasses he carried for these moments..

Now he was on the last lap and passing through a less busy area. Most of the houses were abandoned and while there were a few stores that tried to survive, Peter didn't feel very comfortable there. However, it was the best and most efficient route home. Usually nothing happened here, at most he'd pass some noisy drunk or a cat in the trash. But today, things would be less than normal.

"Where is money, bro!?"

Peter heard someone talking from inside the passing alley. He stopped and looked inside, his eyes quickly get used to the darkness. And Peter witnessed a scene that made him quickly hide behind a pile of garbage.

At the end of the alley, three men appeared to be strong arming an elderly man. Two of them were tall, well muscled, and dressed like they were going to the gym. One was bald with what looked like a big horn coming out of his forehead. The other wore a red ski mask that matched his tracksuit. They spoke with thick, Russian accents. The third man was a bit shorter. He wore a fancy business suit, steel knuckles, and the top of his head appeared almost flat.

"We give you two weeks on payment, bro. Where is money?" Asked the horned man.

"I told you, I don't have it!" The older man argued. "You damn Tracksuit Draculas are scaring everyone out! The insane rent increases, charging us protection, how am I supposed to keep my business running with no customers?"

"Not our problem, bro," said Ski Mask. "Simple solution: our boss take business as collateral."

"I've run this shop for 30 years! I'm not gonna just hand it over!" The older man argued.

The Tracksuits edge uncomfortably closer to him, "You saw what happen to last guy who talk like you, bro." One turned to the other, "Think he needs reminder of terms?"

The man being threatened was no stranger to Peter, he'd already seen him running a bodega where he sometimes picked up a sandwich. He was dressed like a deli worker, wore a green apron over his white clothes and had plastic gloves still on his hands. He was an Italian gentleman, his few gray hairs were concentrated on the back of his head and slicked back. His skin was full of liver spots and a little wrinkled.

Ski Mask was holding the man by his shirt, lifting him and pressing him against the brick wall, while the dark-haired man visually threatened him by clutching a crowbar in his hands. Ski Mask brought out a gun from the back of his pants.

"Listen, paisan," he says, pressing the barrel of the gun against the old man's temple. "Deal is simple: you pay Hammerhead, Hammerhead protects you. Why do you think nobody robs you?"

The old man glared at the tracksuit, "Nobody was robbing me before you scum rolled in here. You don't own us!!"

The man in the suit, the aforementioned Hammerhead, finally speaks up, "Actually, we do. We've been buying up the different buildings in the neighborhood for my employer, and this one's next on the list."

"I'm not selling!" The old man spat at his polished shoes.

Hammerhead sighed, taking out a handkerchief to wipe off his shoes. He then stuffed it into the old man's mouth, "Clearly a more constructive tactic of negotiation is required." He nods to the horned tracksuit wielding the crowbar.

Peter was frantic, he had to call someone! The heroes, the police, Iron Man, anyone! But his phone lost power earlier and even if it hadn't, by the time someone showed up, it would be too late. I've gotta do something myself, I have powers now! But I've got no time to make a strategy. What should I do!?

"Okay, you have three seconds to tell us where the money is," the horned man says, smacking his crowbar against the wall. "1 ... 2 ..."

But before he can even think of swinging the bar again, a thwip echoes down the alley. A web burst from behind and sticks to the tracksuit's horn. Peter ignores the pain in his wrist and notes the target. Man, I was aiming for the crowbar. Oh well...

And in less than a second, he yanks the web back and the man falls over backwards. He lands into a box of crates, one of them falling into his face. The man muttered something in Russian and collapsed into unconsciousness.

"What the hell was that!?" Hammerhead whirled around, looking for the source of the web. His other underling, who was lighting a cigarette while facing the back of the alley, quickly pulls his gun after hearing the crash. However, he sees only a blur in front of the alley moving quickly towards him. He tries to shoot, but the blur was too fast, dodging the bullets before he even pulled the trigger. All too soon, his gun clicked. Out of ammo.

The blur then stuck to the wall near the man. When the man tried to reload, he felt something come in contact with his face. It was some kind of fibrous goo had completely covered the lower half of his face, preventing him from calling out to his boss.

Peter tried to ignore the pain of the second puncture in his forearm, as he dropped down and punched the tracksuit in the face, knocking him down and out. Peter pulls the mask off the tracksuit, checking him to ensure he was still breathing. Surprisingly, his face was covered by another mask, this one white.

"Dimitri! Aleksei!" Hammerhead calls out. "Where are ya!?"

Thinking quickly, Peter puts the mask on over his face and sunglasses as the man comes into view. "What the hell!?" The gangster asked, slightly taken aback at the sight of his men. Then he noticed the boy in the mask, "What're you supposed to be? Some kinda hero? Your costume sucks."

"Yeah well, I have a better one, but your mother's washing it for me," Peter quipped back.

Hammerhead growled in anger, charging full speed at the boy. Peter flipped out of the way, landing behind the man. He throws a punch, but Hammerhead whirls around and drops his head. Peter's fist lands against what felt like solid steel. Even with his enhanced strength and durability, it hurt.

"Yeeoooowwwwch!!!" Peter yelled, clutching his hand. "I think you broke my hand!!!"

"Heh, that's why they call me Hammerhead," the gangster grinned, and he threw a punch of his own at the boy.

Peter was so preoccupied with his hand that his pain deafened out his Spider Sense. As such, he took a punch to the gut from his foe. He's knocked back hard into the brick wall. Owww, that hurt, Peter thought, struggling to get up. He then perceives the metallic sheen of his foe. I wonder if that's part of his Quirk...

When he least expected it, he felt his Spider Sense go off. Peter squat down, narrowly escaping a punch from Hammerhead, who had broken the bricks of the place where his head was a moment ago. In a reflex, Peter punched the man's belly, which makes him lose his breath for a moment. Acting on instinct, Peter put his hands to the wall, using it as a springboard to kick his foe in the face. He lands on target and the man backs up a few steps.

Standing under the only light in the alley, a slightly old street pole, Hammerhead regained his footing. His nose was red and crooked. Blood dripped from his face as he raised his fists. Peter's theory was confirmed: he had a steel forehead and knuckles, but that's it.

Peter then walks over to the man too, but with his arms down, prepared more to dodge than to hit. "I'll erase your existence, punk..." said Hammerhead, malice dripping from his words.

The man quickly tries a flurry of punches at Peter, but he couldn't land once, further infuriating him. Because of his spider sense, Peter could tell exactly where the blow would come from and, along with his improved agility, easily dodge and deflect. Down, right, left, no matter where the blow came from, he could avoid them.

In a burst of fury, the criminal throws himself in the direction of the boy, in an attempt to grab him. However, sensing such an approach, Peter gets ready to counter. He brings his hands back, prepared to support himself with the wall.

"I'll bet this isn't steel!!" He muttered cheekily. And just as Hammerhead takes a swipe at the boy, Peter leaned back and, using all his strength, kicks him up right between the legs.

Hammerhead's eyes widen in shock, all the breath seemed to leave his body at once as he collapsed to his knees. His hands gripped below his belt as he looked up at the boy, "Y-Ya dirty, sonova-"

"Language!" Peter calls as he threw a punch to the gangster's jaw, knocking him out.

With the last man down for the count, Peter rushed over to the old man, slowly helping him to his feet. "Are you okay?" The boy asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. The man seemed to recognize Peter's voice, and soon composed himself when he realized he was speaking to a child.

"Everything's fine now," He went on.

The old man looked into the boy's glasses covered eyes in gratitude, "Thank you for saving me, these were bad men. But I'm afraid you only put off the inevitable."

Peter was confused, "What do you mean?"

"It's not like the cartoons, young man," he said. "Just because you beat up one villain, doesn't mean the problem is solved. Hammerhead was bad news, but men like him are just foot soldiers for someone much worse..."

The old man noticed Peter's wrists, "You're bleeding." He takes out a towel from his apron and using scissor-like fingers, cuts it in half and wraps the strips around his wrists.

Peter nods in thanks, and looks down at Hammerhead, "Who's his boss?"

The old man shook his head, "That I don't know, but they must have plans for this place if they're trying to scare us all out." Peter looked outside the alleyway thoughtfully. A few people were walking around now, one of them was a small family with little girl. The mother and father looked around nervously as the child seemed to regard everything with innocent wonder. The boy made a decision.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to check in on this place now and then," said Peter.

The old man chuckled, "What? You gonna be our friendly neighborhood super hero?"

Peter shrugged, "Something like that, I guess." He had succeeded. Whatever this was, a robbery, a shakedown or whatever, Peter helped. For a brief moment, he had been a hero. And it felt good.

The old man looks down at the unconscious thugs, "So, what should we do with them?"

Peter grins mischievously, "I might have an idea..."


Shortly afterwards, two police cars were parked in front of the alley. The three criminals were wrapped up in webs and hanging from the streetlight. A sticky note reading "Arrest Me!" was attached to the blonde Russian's head. A policeman was obtaining a report from the the old man, who described what he had happened. Two others were debating how to get the criminals down while 2 professional heroes combed the area.

"So what do we know about these guys?" One of the heroes, Shang-Chi asked. He wore a red martial arts gi and surveyed the scene. His associate sat above on the fire escape, keeping to the shadows. It was the Blind Hero, Daredevil.

"The two in the tracksuits are just muscle," he said. "Part of a gang that works freelance. But the other guy is Hammerhead. Used to be a low level enforcer for Tombstone, but rumor has it he's switched bosses."

"Think he's working for You-Know-Who?" The Martial Arts Hero pondered.

"It's definitely possible," Daredevil replied. "Apparently they were here collecting some kind of tax, using scare tactics on civilians. This has his scent all over."

He suddenly looks over, as if detecting something. Daredevil jumps down and lands in front of a broken crate. Using a bit of splintered wood, he scrapes up a bit of a sticky substance. He sniffs it, as if analyzing when the webs suddenly dissolves. "Interesting..." he muttered.

"So what happened then?" Shang-Chi asked impatiently. He knew a guy like Hammerhead wouldn't let himself be caught so easily.

"It seems we have a new watchman," Daredevil noted, standing back up. "I just hope he's in the right headspace. The world doesn't need another Frank Castle."

"You're telling me..." Shang-Chi replied, as the two walked back over to the police cars.

.

.

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Barber's Chair

• Peter's first bit of genuine crime fighting. We've got a few cameos of classic villains this time: Rhino, Chameleon, and Hammerhead. Rhino's a bit toned down for the moment, just a large man with a heteromorph Quirk like Dr. Conners.

• I also decided to make Rhino and Chameleon members of the Tracksuits. Why not? It's made up of Russian gangsters, and Spider-Man has a surprising number of Russian villains.

• Ha! Peter's not afraid to fight dirty when he has to!

• More hero cameos: Daredevil and Shang-Chi. Will they be important to the story later?