Hello! I hope you all had a wonderful New Year's Eve!

Thanks to everyone who's read this far, and for the kudos you've left, from the bottom of my heart!

This story won't be very long, the chapters themselves are already quite long and tell a lot. The slowest part of the story is over, and from the next chapter onwards, things will heat up a bit more. I hope you like it and don't forget to comment! Thank you!

Fisk cracked the bones in his neck and suppressed a slight sigh as he leaned back in his chair again. He raised his hand and took a drag from his cigar while his eyes ran calmly over the report in his other hand. Recent events were... bothersome, a little. Just one gang compromised, something that could happen at any time in that branch.

The gang in question wasn't essential to his business, but it was useful. They operated in a neighborhood that, although insignificant for most, was strategic for Fisk. That area wasn't exactly off the police radar, but it was neglected, and he used it as a safe route for discreet smuggling of goods. Drugs, weapons and, occasionally, laundered money. With the almost complete capture of the members, that flow had been interrupted, not irreparably, but enough to cause a slight nuisance.

And it was the annoyance that irritated him.

Fisk was not a man who tolerated disorder in his business. The surrounding cameras showed who was really to blame, now with a few more toys.

The masked vigilante's second intervention had made it clear that, although small, the problem was growing. The direct damage to his enterprises was minimal, the captured gang were just pawns on his board, but the pattern was beginning to bother him. More than that, the masked man was attracting attention, interfering where he shouldn't.

Taking a deep breath, Fisk put the report away and pressed the intercom button on his desk.

"Wesley, come here." He called out to the man, his voice as cold but calm and controlled as ever.

A few minutes later, James Wesley, an important figure below Fisk, entered the office, adjusting his tie while holding a tablet with recent information.

"Yes, Mr. Fisk." Wesley began.

"Do you have what I asked for?" Fisk asked, placing the report back in the folder on the desk.

"Yes, Mr. Fisk, I was just checking the credibility of the information." Wesley replied, running his fingers across his tablet. Fisk held up his own device, observing the incoming information. "He's... peculiar, sir. No one knows for sure how he manages to do what he does. The technology required for his abilities is advanced, to say the least. But we've already checked. It didn't come from Oscorp, or any other institution in this city."

Fisk already suspected this, and he merely stared at the image showing giant webs trapping his men. As well as images of the city center that showed a figure holding onto some kind of rope high up in the buildings, swinging around as if he were in some kind of amusement park.

Who? And how?

"... As for the flow in that area..." Fisk changed the subject temporarily, raising his head to Wesley again. "We can't let an interruption like this affect our business. Redirect operations to another location. Are there other, less patrolled areas?"

"Yes, sir. I was thinking of the industrial district to the north. It's busier and, due to the presence of several abandoned factories, it's easy to hide our operations there... but, sir, I think you're already aware that there will be more police movement now that Captain Stacy is involved."

"Yes, but let him. We don't need to worry about him for now. Just cut off all our movements in that area, and let them sort themselves out. Make sure the new points are well protected. Loyal men, Wesley. I want this working as before, or better."

"Understood." Wesley replied. He nodded and then turned to leave the room.

Fisk was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the landscape outside. He knew that moving his operations was a temporary solution. The masked man was a small risk now, but small risks, if ignored, became bigger threats. That was what bothered him. The unpredictability. He couldn't tolerate uncontrolled variables.

And besides, he knew a problem when he saw one.

He turned his attention to the images on the tablet again. He watched in silence, his eyes fixed on the agile figure that seemed to move like a living shadow.

He paused on a specific frame. The masked man was hanging from the ceiling, a thick web stretching from his wrist to a steel beam. Fisk leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and narrowed his eyes. This was no ordinary rope, nor something you could buy in any hardware store. It was something more... sophisticated. Perhaps organic. Perhaps a new technology.

"Giant webs..." He muttered to himself, almost mocking the idea. "How is something like that possible?"

He even tried to send his men to look for these "webs", but when they got there, there was no sign of them.

He advanced the video and paused again, this time just as the masked man wrapped one of the gang members in his webbing, easily immobilizing him. Fisk let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slowly. "No known equipment does that... at least not something accessible to a street vigilante."

His mind began to formulate possibilities. Oscorp came to mind almost automatically, but the idea was dismissed just as quickly, albeit only momentarily. But if not Oscorp, then what? Another company? He doubted it.

An amateur inventor? Possible, but unlikely.

Something more... supernatural? Fisk hated it when questions went unanswered.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin as the video continued in the background. It was fascinating and, at the same time, irritating.

He knew he needed a calculated approach, something that was more than a simple physical confrontation. This vigilante had already proved that he was agile and resilient. No, Fisk needed something more... something that was both a trap and a lesson. He needed to make the masked man understand that every action had its consequences.

He pressed the intercom on his desk again.

"Wesley, I want a team working on containment traps in this new area of operations. Something discreet but lethal. Analyze these images and find any weaknesses we can exploit."

"Kill or injure?"

"... Something to hurt an ordinary person might not work in this case. Kill."

"Understood, Mr. Fisk."

He suppressed a sigh as he was invaded by silence again. Not that he didn't like it.

They didn't have much information about this masked man, which didn't give any indication of who he might be. But it wasn't impossible to discover his identity.

First, he went after corrupt cops, with a special focus on Marvin... perhaps because the man was the most likely to open his mouth, or perhaps because he was simply the easiest to catch... although, for someone with such skills, none of them really posed a challenge.

Anyway, one of them might have done something to him, and he was inclined to bet that it was Marvin, since his track record was so long.

All he had to do was trace his recent stupidities, and he'd have a start.

Peter felt the biting wind on his face as he swung between the city's skyscrapers. He propelled himself forward with one of his swings, spinning his body in the air. It was electrifying, and the more he maneuvered in the air, the higher he went on his swings, the less he wanted it to end.

Well, he couldn't enjoy the sensation at the moment, not now... maybe when it was over.

Following the information he had hacked from the police system, Peter tracked Thomas, the lieutenant colonel, to a maximum security building in a neighborhood further away from the center.

He hung upside down from a crane a few hundred meters from the building in question. The place looked like a fortress. There were agents stationed outside, patrolling with automatic weapons, and security cameras covering every angle.

He spun his body again, shot a web into the metal above and propelled himself away. Peter landed silently on top of a nearby building and analyzed the situation, adjusting his mask... not that he needed to, but it had become a habit, like his habit of adjusting his glasses even though it had been a while since he had worn them.

He watched for a few minutes, waiting for the right moment. Two agents moved away to a corner. They had a good view from there, a normal person wouldn't be able to get in without being seen. Peter shot a web into the building and swung up to the roof. He landed quietly, hearing muffled voices coming from downstairs.

He approached a skylight and peered out. The lieutenant colonel was in a large room, surrounded by four armed agents and two other men in civilian clothes who looked like aides.

He turned and walked silently down one side of the building, camouflaging himself in the darkness. One of the guards outside was distracted, smoking a cigarette. Peter seized the opportunity and wrapped him in a web, pulling him to himself before he could scream.

He headbutted the guard in the face, "accidentally" breaking his nose, and pinned him against the wall, trapping him with his webs.

He did the same with the second guard, being a little more "gentle" by not breaking his nose as he did with the first.

As soon as Peter entered, an alarm went off, probably activated by sensors he hadn't noticed, which made the boy roll his eyes and grunt more in annoyance than concern.

"Reminder to myself: use the device more before entering." He muttered, hiding behind a pillar as he heard the agents' footsteps approaching.

He jumped onto the ceiling, sticking easily, and waited. As soon as one of the agents passed beneath him, Peter shot out a web, pinning the man to the ground. Another agent shouted, alerting the others, and soon the shooting began. Peter dodged with quick, unpredictable movements, swinging between the ceiling beams.

In the air, he threw a web on the floor and propelled himself towards one of the men, hitting him in the face with a knee as he got close enough, causing him to fall heavily to the floor, unconscious.

He tilted his torso backwards as another of the men fired in his direction. The man continued firing, and Peter took a few steps back as he dodged the bullets.

At one point, he shot a web at the man's gun, pulling it towards him. Then he leapt over the agent and hit him in the middle of the face with a kick, knocking him backwards.

Peter turned and shot webbing into the face of another agent who was aiming in his direction, temporarily blinding him. He moved quickly with it, hitting the man in the stomach, causing him to bend over. With that, he easily grabbed the man and threw him towards another, causing them both to fall to the ground.

He leapt to the ceiling and used a web to propel himself forward. He reached the staircase, and from there, he pushed off the wall and jumped to the floor above, hitting an approaching guard with a kick to the middle of his chest, causing him to drop his weapon and knock him to the ground.

Peter continued running from there until he reached the room Thomas was in, only to find it empty. Not that it was necessarily a problem, he could hear almost everything in the place.

Peter threw himself out of the window into the corridor again, feeling his instincts scream to his right. He instinctively ducked, sticking his chest to the floor and dodging a few rifle shots.

He rolled and jumped towards the ceiling, where from there, he leapt towards the two soldiers firing in his direction, hitting one of them in the chin with a knee, finishing him off right there.

The second man gritted his teeth and tried to punch Peter in the face. The boy, for his part, just held the man's fist and stared at him.

"Really? You could have left." He said, returning the punch with a sharp blow to the face. Blood spurted from the man's now broken nose, and Peter grabbed him behind the head and threw him to the ground. "How much are you being paid?"

He turned and continued running towards a window that led outside. He threw himself through the window, using one of his arms to protect himself from the shards of glass. Immediately outside, he shot a web upwards and climbed a few floors, crawling quickly across the concrete.

As he did so, he heard a gunshot and a window shatter two floors below, on the side of the building, followed by distinct, muffled voices. Among them, Thomas's voice... he wouldn't forget it.

He leapt forward, throwing himself into the air, feeling bullets pass dangerously close to him. He shot another web into the side of the building and turned, focusing his attention on the broken window, curious about the many excited voices.

As he approached, he looked inside. Thomas was pointing his pistol at one of the men in civilian clothes, while the other was pointing two pistols, one at Thomas and the other at the guard who was pointing a rifle at his partner.

Peter suppressed a slight laugh... it looked like a scene from a movie.

"Hey." He spoke up, taking a slight pose as he leaned his head on his arm, which was resting on the window, while his other hand kept him glued to the wall. "So, can I get in through here or should I break my own window?"

In response, he only received a few shots in his direction, as he had expected. He ducked quickly, hearing the bullets whiz past above his head.

When the firing ceased, he shrank his body, gathered momentum and leapt into the room, landing a kick on the first man he spotted, one of the men in civilian clothes.

"Sorry for the intrusion." He said, shooting a web at the first guard and pulling him against the wall hard enough to make him collapse.

Two shots echoed in the air, but Peter was already on the roof, dodging with ease. He leapt towards the second guard, shooting a web at his feet and pulling him up. The man hung there, his scream interrupted by a kick to the face. The boy snorted, using the momentum of his kick to spin around and land a kick on the third guard's face.

Two more advanced at the same time. Peter shot a web into the eyes of one of them, blinding him, while dodging a punch from the other. He grabbed his enemy's arm and threw him over his shoulder, knocking him out with a thud.

"Argh! You freak son of a bitch!" One of them shouted.

"Aww you sweet talker you." Peter sneered, before firing webs to pin the two of them to the ground.

The last two tried to run, but Peter launched himself into the air and landed in front of them. He backflipped, dodging another shot and, using his arms to propel himself against the wall, advanced towards the man who had shot him, hitting him with a kick to the face, knocking him to the ground with some violence.

The last man tried to hit him with a punch, Peter merely dodged by ducking and countered with a strong punch to the stomach, causing the man to bend over and fall to the ground unable to breathe, his consciousness leaving him soon after.

"Eight to zero for me, looks like you lost." He said, ready to finish his task. But when he turned to catch the corrupt cop, the back door was open. He had escaped.

Damn... I focused too much on the others... oh, well...

Peter ran out of the building at full speed, shooting a web at the building next door and swinging himself forward. He spotted Thomas's car leaving the garage quickly, almost knocking over a biker in the process.

He swung towards another building, running up the side of it and jumping when he reached the edge. He shot out two simultaneous webs and propelled himself forward sharply. He fell to the asphalt with a thud, right in front of the car.

The driver seemed to think about braking, but then slammed on the gas as he changed his mind. Peter merely jumped over the vehicle, shooting his webs while still in the air.

Landing on the ground, he steadied his feet and flexed his arms and back as he pulled the car. He was dragged forward a few meters, the car's tires singing as they tried to drive away, smoke rising as the engine grew louder.

No matter how hard the driver tried to accelerate, the car wouldn't move.

Peter ignored the flashes, the voices, the sound of photos being taken, the phones pointed in his direction.

He quickly shot out a few more webs, pinning the car's tires to the ground. This action forced the two guards out of the vehicle with guns pointed in Peter's direction.

Idiots!

Peter mentally scolded himself, dodging a few shots before shooting webs at both men, making it impossible for them to use their weapons. He momentarily looked back, relieved to see that the shots hadn't hit anyone, even though they had hit an empty car.

He shook his head and jumped towards the man next to the driver's seat, hitting him with a punch from above, causing him to fall heavily to the ground. With that, he jumped over the car and landed a kick on the last man's face.

With both guards incapacitated, he turned, focusing his gaze on his target in the back seat on the other side of the car. He smiled beneath his mask, and rather dramatically, he walked over to him like a bouncing child and hooked his fingers in the door of the back seat and yanked the door open with ease, exposing a frightened and fearful Thomas.

"Hands up, criminal scum!" He said dramatically, pointing a finger gun before laughing and grabbing the man by the collar.

Thomas struggled, but was no match for Peter's strength. "You can't do that! I have rights!"

Peter merely snorted. "You have the right to remain silent! Now..." He pinned the man's arms and legs with his webbing, ignoring his protests. "Enjoy the view."

Peter leapt upwards with Thomas on his shoulder, his webbing snagging on a nearby building. The man screamed as they began to swing, higher and higher, faster and faster.

The higher, the more he screamed, and Peter grunted angrily, tempted to let him slip again and again.

Peter launched another web, swinging Thomas across the sky until he reached the top of a nearby building. He pinned him against the metal frame of a fire escape, wrapped in thick layers of web.

The next targets were a little easier. Corrupt cops only, without the security of people like Thomas. The smartest ones were among other colleagues, but compared to Thomas, their capture was terribly easy.

He lunged forward and took the device from one of his pockets. It was still the middle of the night... he was going back to school the day after tomorrow, he'd better get some sleep.

After his next target, a councilman named Michael. The information he had obtained showed that the politician was involved in money laundering schemes and the misappropriation of public funds.

As he made his way through the skyscrapers, Peter noticed something strange. One of the buildings he had fired a web at seemed... different. As soon as he pulled to swing it, he felt an abnormal tension in the thread, as if something was wrong. Before he could react, an explosion echoed through the air, fired from inside the building's façade. A built-in device had activated, throwing a net of reinforced steel and concrete fragments directly at him.

"What the-!" Peter shouted as he was caught off guard, and he could only grunt as he felt his body hit with extreme force. His body flew into another building from the impact, and for the first time since he had started his "second job", he felt pain spread through his body.

He tried to cushion his fall, but the force of the blow was greater than he expected. He hit the side of the building hard, shattering the glass of the windows and the concrete of the walls. The world spun for a moment as he plummeted several meters to the floor of a narrow alleyway, the concrete cracking from the impact of his body.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth slightly. He was distracted, thinking about his objectives, his targets... in his defense, he hadn't imagined that he could be captured like that miles off the ground.

Peter tried to get up, but the net that had hit him now completely enveloped him. It was made of reinforced metal cables, each interwoven with something that looked like high-density resin. This technically shouldn't have been a problem... the real problem was the dozens of syringes that pierced his body.

Syringes... theoretically, due to his high resistance, ordinary syringes wouldn't pierce his body. Not when he could do what he did, withstand blows that normal people would be knocked out by. Which meant that they were made of surgical steel or something that can be sharpened on a microscopic level, like tungsten alloys or something like that.

Many failed to pierce him, breaking due to his skin, but a few managed to do the job, and he felt something strange run through his body... from the lightness he felt, the sudden sensation of sleep, although slight, was probably some kind of tranquilizer.

It was far from enough to knock him out, and he was already feeling fine again, the pain was gone and the brief feeling of sleep no longer existed... but he pretended to be on the ground, incapacitated.

"So you're the vigilante who's been disrupting Mr. Fisk's business."

A deep, debauched voice echoed through the alley. Peter looked up to see three muscular men approaching, each holding heavy weapons. They wore expensive suits... he would have thought they might be from one of his targets, but on hearing "Fisk" he dismissed the idea.

He'd heard the name a few times, read a few things about him in some files he'd found, but there were very few. On the internet, he's just a respectable businessman. He presented himself as an influential billionaire, owner of several companies and charitable organizations. He didn't know exactly what this Fisk was involved in, and this was a good opportunity to find out.

"You're an unknown. Despite your skills, you're involved in something you have no idea of the magnitude of. Kingpin wants you to know that... everyone has a limit." Another man, smaller and with a bemused expression, came closer, pointing a finger at Peter.

"You've been bothering the wrong people. This city is not a playground for you to play hero. Fisk sends word that next time he won't be so... merciful." Ah... the respectable businessman wasn't so nice, huh? He wasn't surprised.

"Really? How kind of him. How about passing on a message on my behalf?" Peter stood up quickly and broke through the metal netting around him, shooting webs at the man in front of him and throwing him hard against the wall. "Tell him that next time, I'll send him the bill for the suit, this thing rips easily."

He said, looking at the small tear in the side of his right pectoral. He ran towards them, dodging the shots that began to fire. With quick movements, he disarmed the first man, pulling the gun away with a web.

He pushed off the wall and kicked the man in the head, then turned to the last of them, now armed with a knife due to their proximity. He attempts a horizontal blow, but Peter merely dodges by throwing his torso backwards and counters with a punch to the stomach.

Surprisingly, the man dodges to the side and counters by turning his body and trying a punch with the back of his hand. Peter merely stood still, the punch doing minimal damage, merely leaving his cheek numb.

With that, he grabbed the man's arm and forced his hand. The bone broke in a muffled "crack", and the man screamed in pain. This scream didn't last long, as Peter finished him off by kicking him in the chest, throwing him violently against the wall.

"I appreciate the affection, boys, but I like to have some dinner first before I get tied up." He joked, looking at one of them who was barely conscious. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a councillor."

Peter said, bowing dramatically to them before jumping up and shooting a web upwards, moving away quickly.

Peter swung himself up a little slower than usual. He ignored the grunts, shouts and curses coming from just below him, muffled by a huge bag of webbing.

He propelled himself upwards once more and focused his gaze on the top of the police building ahead, and he blinked a few times, slightly surprised. He had been analyzing the building for some time now, a few days, and usually, at that time, it was usually a deserted place.

Peter landed softly, throwing his bag of webs not very gently shortly afterwards. Slowly, he raised his head, focusing his gaze on someone rather unexpected. Captain George Stacy was standing there, hands in his pockets. The skipping of his heartbeat along with his body language showed that he was as surprised as he was.

"... This night just got weirder." George muttered to himself, too quietly to indicate that he wanted Peter to hear, his eyes focused on the men lying on the ground, trapped by those rather strange webs. "Honestly, I thought you were some kind of myth. The vigilante who's been leaving gifts." Was it just him, or did George have a hint of mockery in his voice?

Peter hesitated for a moment, surprised to find a cop, a captain no less, so directly involved. "There's usually no one here, I didn't expect visitors."

"Visitors?" He asked rather sharply. "Are you calling the owners of this building... visitors?"

"What else should I call? The police station has clearly been empty for quite a while." Peter returned, turning his head slightly towards where the men lay.

George took a few steps forward, stopping at a safe distance. Despite the venom in his voice, he sounded calm, and perhaps even a little curious. "I decided to come up after the second time you left those men up here. Someone needed to see who was throwing criminals like trophies at the door of our police station."

Peter crossed his arms; if it had been anyone else up there, he would have knocked him out. "If you were doing your job, I wouldn't have to do this."

The captain raised an eyebrow, but didn't lose his cool. "And you think you're helping? Tying people up, without warrants, bringing them here as if you were some bounty hunter from the old west? We have laws. And those laws exist for a reason."

"And those laws are failing." Peter replied firmly, throwing a small USB stick at Stacy's feet, and then pointing at the bound men. "How long did it take you to even look at Marvin? How many more like him did you let get away? How much more would they make the population suffer if it wasn't for me breaking these 'laws'?"

Stacy narrowed his eyes. He'd been in the business a long time, he knew how to read people, he knew how to spot liars, he knew information from the very tone of each person's voice. He noticed the intensity in the masked man's voice, returning to something personal.

"I understand the frustration, but that doesn't give you the right to become judge, jury and executioner. Even if these men are guilty, what you're doing is also a crime." He said it, not like a cop saying it to a thug, although it sounded like it. No, his intention was only to warn. Something that, perhaps, Peter didn't realize at first.

Peter frowned and remained silent for a few moments. He wasn't stupid, he knew it was a crime, he was literally trespassing and had cases of aggression, however much they were for good reason. But he still didn't like that tone.

"I know... I'm breaking some rules. But if no one does anything, innocent people will continue to get hurt, the wrong people will continue to benefit at the expense of the citizens. You're supposed to protect and serve, but you're nothing but scum. Maybe you can live with that, but I can't."

Stacy sighed deeply, wiping her hand across her face. There was truth in some of those words, he knew, along with venom. But he also knew the danger it posed, and the rules it all broke. He didn't need some kind of vigilante climbing the walls, did he? Well, he himself didn't know... but he did know that the system certainly didn't want someone like him.

Finally, he raised his eyes again to the masked man.

"If you carry on like this, it won't be long before you're the next target of the law. And when that happens, I'll have to arrest you. You won't like what happens." George said. It was nothing personal, it was just how the system worked.

"... Are you threatening me, Captain Stacy?" Peter asked, his voice dangerously low as he slowly stood up.

"I'm just telling you how things will be. I'm giving you a chance here, for the favor you've done us. You've done what you had to do, now stop it, or you'll have a lot of people after you." He said. Peter was silent for a few moments.

He'd just done 80% of their work, and this is how he gets rewarded? He had nothing against the captain himself, but it certainly didn't help his view of the city's police.

"Thanks for the advice, Captain. Now, I ask you to listen to mine. If any of these men go back on the streets, if you and your colleagues try to get in my way, you'll end up like them." He pointed at the men on the ground. "And I'm not going to take it easy just because you wear a fucking badge. You stain the meaning of those uniforms." Peter turned, shooting a web at the nearby building. And, with an easy swing, he disappeared into the night, leaving Stacy alone on the terrace. The captain stood there for a few minutes, looking at the trapped men.

They had no warrant, not yet, and he was sure that some of them would get some kind of protection. What could he do against the power of money?

He looked between the buildings again, thinking how surreal it all seemed. Honestly, he didn't want to act rudely, or against everything he was doing. They needed to rot in prison, he agreed with that.

But he also knew how the system worked... and he hated being right when, two days later, they received an arrest warrant for him.

He just didn't know about the bounty that had been placed on the vigilante's head.

Time had run out... if they wanted results, if they wanted to keep their legacy afloat, they had to act. Norman was standing in the center of the lab, staring at the vial containing the greenish serum that seemed to glow in contrast to the dim light. He was dressed in a scientist's apron, the sleeves rolled up, showing prominent, slightly dark-colored veins on his arms as his fingers drummed on the bench.

"Norman, please think it over." Dr. Stromm insisted, his voice laden with concern. He was standing on the other side of the room, holding a clipboard full of notes and reports. "The tests aren't conclusive yet. The serum is unstable. We saw what happened to the subjects. The mutations... the aggression, your entire DNA could... please..."

Norman didn't reply immediately. He continued to stare at the serum for a few moments, looking as if he hadn't even heard it. Finally, he looked up at Stromm, an intense, unsettling gleam in his eyes.

"We don't have any more time... " he said, his voice low but firm. "Risks are part of experimental science, we wouldn't have what we have today if we hadn't taken risks before. We have no other choice."

"Norman." Stromm took a step forward, his expression pleading. "This is too dangerous. There are other ways. We need to go back to formula, make it safer. But this... this could kill you... give me another week." Norman snorted, rolling his eyes.

"We don't have that much time! We need to do this." He picked up the vial carefully, moving to the next chamber. "Get me the promachloraperazine."

"What for?" The doctor asked, but obeyed anyway.

"It starts the catalysis when the vapor reaches the bloodstream." He explained, gently taking the small vial from the doctor's hands, staring at it with such intensity. "Forty thousand years of evolution and we've barely managed to tap into the vastness of human potential."

He drank the liquid in a single gulp and entered the chamber shortly afterwards, adjusting the supports on his arms. Stromm ran to the control panel, hesitating to continue with all the madness.

Norman looked at him through the glass, his gaze stopping any complaints the doctor had. Stromm swallowed some saliva, he lowered his gaze to the control panel and sighed in defeat, starting the process.

The greenish liquid was injected into his veins, and the machine immediately began monitoring the changes in his body. For a few seconds, everything was quiet, the machine monitored the changes that were slowly taking place, and Stromm, for a few moments, even thought that the process was going well.

Then Norman screamed. A deep scream that reverberated through the laboratory. Stromm recoiled in horror as he saw Norman's body writhing inside the capsule. He was having a seizure. His muscles seemed to expand and tear at the same time, the veins pulsing like rivers of fire, running down his arms, torso, neck. His eyes flew open as he screamed, filled with pain and glowing a dull yellow. A sudden cardiac arrest caused the machine's alarm to go off. Stromm rushed to the control panel, desperate to end the process.

"Norman!" Stromm shouted, his hands shaking as he pressed the buttons. But before he could finish, the capsule exploded with a loud hiss and crackle, throwing sparks and fragments across the lab.

Norman fell to the ground, inert. Stromm rushed over to him, kneeling beside his friend. "Norman! Oh, God, can you hear me?!" Stromm grabbed Norman's shoulders, shaking him gently. But then Norman's eyes suddenly opened. They glowed with a fierce, almost supernatural intensity.

Before Stromm could react, Norman stood up and lifted him into the air with impossible force, holding Stromm by the collar. His face was now contorted in what looked like a mixture of pain and euphoria. His yellow-pigmented eyes seemed to stare deep into the doctor's soul.

"Back to formula?" With one brutal movement, he threw Stromm against the wall. The impact was so strong that the monitors above shattered, falling around Stromm's body.

Peter sighed again, avoiding a grimace at the smell of cigarettes so early in the morning. The signal opened, and he moved quietly. He walked with slow steps, blending in with the crowd.

It was strange to be going to school again, very strange. After days of facing criminals and situations that had completely changed his worldview, the idea of sitting down at a desk to listen to an algebra lesson seemed almost surreal.

Not only that, but he was now having to control himself so that he didn't simply start walking along the wall, or shoot a web to climb somewhere, or jump high enough to reach the top of a building.

It was harder than he had thought now that he had got used to it.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally entered the premises of his school. And there he was, feeling what he didn't want to feel. He tightened the strap of his backpack as he made his way to the locker, ignoring the curious glances that some of the students cast in his direction.

It was hard, for sure, the stares, whispers and gossip. He sighed again, pulling up the collar of his abnormally large jacket.

"Dude, did you see his video? Like, he literally flies between the buildings!" said an excited voice next to him. Peter paused for a moment, his ears picking up what seemed to be the start of an interesting conversation. Especially since they seemed to be completely unaware of his existence, for which he was mentally grateful.

"Of course I saw it." Replied another voice, even more excited. "I'm telling you, the guy must be using some kind of ultra-strong cable. Maybe kevlar with carbon reinforcement. How else could he hold his body weight like that?"

Peter turned his head discreetly to observe. Two boys were gathered in front of a cell phone, watching a video. He immediately recognized the masked figure swinging gracefully between the buildings. "Spider-Man spotted again." read the title at the top of the screen.

Spider-Man? He asked himself mentally, cringing internally. For some reason, it was so... embarrassing...

But, well, it made sense... the spider symbol, the webs, walking along the wall... what did he expect, really?

It was just strange to hear that name associated with him. Until now, he hadn't stopped to think about how people saw him. He was just... doing what needed to be done.

"I think he must have some kind of exoskeleton under his suit." Continued one of the boys, gesturing as he explained his theory. "It's not humanly possible to survive an impact like the one he made at the end of the video."

"You think so? I think it's pure skill. I mean, he's like... a gymnast.

Or a mutant! Maybe he has real spider powers."

"That would be so weird, but so cool at the same time! If that's true, how? Does he have a poison gland on top of everything else?! Maybe... does he lay eggs?"

Peter let out a low sigh when he heard the question, turning away before his curiosity gave him away. Good, it was starting to get weird.

He crossed the corridor, trying to process what he had just heard. "Spider-Man..." he repeated in his mind. It was a simple name, strange to hear, but appropriate.

"Peter!" Gwen's familiar voice called out, bringing him back to reality. He immediately recognized her, and almost opened his eyes wide, but soon relaxed as he remembered... well, everything he could do now.

He turned and looked at her. She approached with a smile on her face, but there was a slight worry in her eyes. "You've disappeared. Good to see you."

She said, and Peter merely frowned slightly, his eyes staring at her with a certain intensity. "... What are you doing here?"

She blinked a few times, confused by the question and the rather cold tone.

"What do you mean? I saw you walking and I heard about the things that happened, you know? So, I thought-"

"You came to see me to prepare the ground for the next prank?" He asked venomously, curious to see her reaction. Gwen, for her part, made a confused face.

"What?"

"Oh, come on, are you going to play the saint? Isn't that what you're here for? To fool the stupid Peter Parker?" He asked again, her confusion becoming even more apparent on his face, along with a more defensive expression.

"I don't understand, Peter. What makes you think that?" She asked, her tone more serious than before.

Peter just stared at her for a few more moments, analyzing her. She seemed really confused, and that made him relax a little.

"... I think you're the most intelligent person in this place, even more so than myself sometimes. So I can't understand why you'd get involved with Harper." He said, shaking his head. "It's something that just doesn't make sense."

Gwen bowed her head slightly, not knowing exactly what to feel. She was confused, she was curious, but she was starting to feel annoyed that he was suddenly questioning her decisions, which, in the end, had nothing to do with him.

"Peter, what the fuck happened?"

"Ask Harper. Isn't he your boyfriend? Better yet, check out that secret group they have, see what they say about you." He planted the bomb and walked towards his classroom, ignoring the girl's lost look. He didn't want to be seen talking to her, not yet.

He'd found out about this group Harper had after Danny had been careless once. He never said anything, because who would he say anything to? And he never thought much about it, it wasn't his concern.

He entered the room, noticing the attention that had returned to him, the significant reduction in the surrounding noise. He hated it...

"Jesus, he could have changed the closet at least..." He heard one of them say in a whisper, and just ignored it.

Like everything he'd done over the last few days, the last few weeks in fact, he wouldn't forget what had happened that day. Part of the blame lay with them for putting him through that humiliation.

So all he had to do was humiliate them back... in a subtle way, maybe this year, maybe at graduation.

He would make them unforgettable.

WANTED

TARGET: Masked vigilante known as "Spider-Man"

DESCRIPTION:

Height: Approximately 1.75m - 1.80m

Weight: Between 70-80 kg

Appearance: Wears a black costume with red parts with web patterns; full mask covering his face. Symbol of a white spider on the torso and back.

Abilities: Extremely agile, strong and fast. Suspected to have combat experience and advanced technology for superhuman feats. Known for climbing walls and using some kind of device or weapon that throws web-like threads.

Behavior: Acts as a vigilante. Has been seen interfering in illegal operations and successfully confronting armed henchmen.

LAST LOCATION:

Last reported in the Hell's Kitchen and Queens districts. Observed patrolling rooftops and alleyways after sunset.

REWARD: $500,000 USD

Cash payment, no questions asked.

CONDITIONS:

ALIVE: Deliver directly to designated contact for additional information.

DEAD: Concrete evidence required (photographs, mask and costume).

INSTRUCTIONS:

Report sightings immediately.

Specialized equipment may be required for capture.

Avoid direct confrontation, unless armed and at a numerical advantage.

CONTACT:

Look for "Kingpin" or associates at designated points. Information will only be provided to reliable contractors.