Midtown High — Morning
Classes had started nearly an hour ago at Midtown High.
The hallways were almost completely empty.
Almost.
Only one student was running at full speed between the rows of lockers.
Peter Parker.
Out of breath and late as usual, he rushed toward his classroom, avoiding the few students still lingering in the hallways.
His heart was pounding.
He finally arrived in front of his classroom door.
Inside, class had already begun.
— Very well! So... who can tell me...
Peter took a deep breath.
Then he suddenly opened the door.
— GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The entire class had just frozen.
Peter stood motionless in the doorway, breathing heavily.
Then the laughter erupted.
Dozens of students started laughing or making fun of him.
Peter immediately felt his cheeks heat up.
As usual.
Among the entire class, only three people weren't laughing.
The teacher.
Gwen Stacy.
And Harry Osborn.
They looked more embarrassed for him than anything else.
After all, it wasn't the first time Peter had arrived late.
The teacher let out a small sigh.
— Well... it's about time. Parker, also known as the latecomer, honors us with his presence.
— Uh... y-yeah, actually I...
— What's the excuse this time?
Peter immediately felt every eye turn toward him.
The entire class was waiting for his answer.
And apparently, many were already hoping to laugh.
— I... missed the bus.
The laughter instantly doubled.
The teacher rolled his eyes before letting out a long sigh.
— Alright... take your seat now.
— Thank you. And sorry again.
Peter quickly crossed the room and sat down in his usual seat.
Between Gwen and Harry.
The lesson resumed almost immediately.
A few minutes later, the three friends began quietly talking in low voices.
— Hi Peter. How are you? Gwen asked.
Peter grimaced.
— Meh... not really, considering how this day is starting...
— To be fair, you're not exactly helping yourself either, Harry replied with a teasing smile.
Peter looked at him.
— Says the rich kid who shows up in a limousine with an escort. Very funny, Harry.
— Oh, if you want, I can pick you up tomorrow. No more being late.
— Ha-ha... very funny.
Gwen shook her head.
— Seriously, guys, pay attention. Especially you, Harry. You're always saying you're struggling in class.
Harry placed a hand over his heart in mock outrage.
— Oh no, Gwen! You're not joining in too?!
— Not me. But the teacher, on the other hand...
— Huh? What...?
Harry slowly turned around.
Then his face turned pale.
The teacher was standing right behind him.
His arms crossed.
And apparently, he had heard everything.
Harry closed his eyes.
— Oh no...
Oscorp — Norman Osborn's Office
The phone sitting on the reception desk suddenly began to vibrate.
Tombstone's secretary immediately picked it up and answered.
— Hello, this is Mr. Lincoln's secretary. How may I help you?
On the other end of the line, Norman Osborn answered in a calm voice.
— Hello. I've been trying to reach your boss for a while now. It's important. Could you tell him to call me back as soon as possible?
— Certainly, sir...?
— Norman Osborn.
— Perfect. I'll pass along your request. He'll contact you shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you?
— No, that will be all. Thank you.
— Very well. Have an excellent day, Mr. Osborn.
— Thank you, you too.
Tombstone Headquarters — Ground Floor
A few moments later, in another building in New York, the atmosphere was completely different.
The place was darker.
Colder.
More intimidating.
Behind her desk, a secretary with an icy demeanor spoke sharply to a guard.
— You. Go tell Hammerhead that the boss needs to call Norman Osborn back. It's urgent.
— Yes, ma'am.
Tombstone Headquarters — Secure Hallways
The guard immediately carried out the order.
He crossed several secure hallways of the building until he reached the least respectable areas of the organization.
That was where he found Hammerhead.
Tombstone's right-hand man was busy conducting a particularly rough interrogation.
Tombstone Headquarters — Improvised Interrogation Room
— Sir...? May I speak with you?
Hammerhead didn't even immediately look away from his victim.
— ...What? What is it? I hope it's important.
— The secretary told me to inform you: Norman Osborn wants to speak with the boss. It seems important.
Hammerhead remained silent for a few seconds.
— Norman Osborn... I had completely forgotten...
He finally nodded.
— Alright. I'll take care of it. Go back to your post.
— Yes, sir.
The guard left the room.
Hammerhead remained alone with the man still tied up in front of him.
— Well... first...
He slowly turned toward his victim.
His gaze promised nothing good.
— Alright, kid, enough playing around. If you don't tell me the truth, I can't guarantee anything anymore. You want me to believe that a guy in red and blue pajamas climbs walls and has been ruining our plans for months?!
— Wait, Hammerhead!
Hammerhead looked up, visibly annoyed.
Montana had just entered the room.
— Montana? Seriously, can't I work in peace?! What now?!
— It's worth it. Look at this.
Montana opened a laptop and started a video.
On the screen, an alleyway appeared.
Spider-Man could be seen effortlessly taking down several of Tombstone's henchmen.
Hammerhead watched the footage carefully.
Then he slowly raised his eyes toward Montana.
— Is this video real?
— One hundred percent.
Silence settled over the room.
This time, there was no doubt left.
— So he really exists... I'll inform the boss.
Hammerhead immediately grabbed his phone.
Tombstone Headquarters — Private Training Room
Meanwhile, in his private training room, Tombstone continued his intense workout.
Shirtless, surrounded by dumbbells and punching bags, he was going through his exercises when his phone rang.
Without stopping his movements, he answered.
— Hammerhead? What?... Norman Osborn? Oh right, I forgot. Thanks for the reminder.
— And there's something else. We finally have proof.
Tombstone froze.
His expression immediately hardened.
— I'm listening.
— Spider-Man... he definitely exists, boss. I'm sending you the video.
A few seconds later, the video arrived on his phone.
Tombstone then walked over to his laptop and started playing it.
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
As the footage played, his expression grew increasingly serious.
The rumors.
The testimonies.
The stories no one had ever truly been able to confirm.
Everything finally made sense.
The Spider-Man existed.
— So... he's the one who's been screwing up my plans for months... Very well. Hammerhead?
— Yes, boss?
— Is Montana with you?
— Yes.
— Put me on speaker.
Hammerhead complied.
Montana immediately listened closely.
— Done.
Tombstone's voice then echoed throughout the room.
— Montana, you're going on a mission. Take whoever you want, but professionals. That man in the costume... I want him gone. Is that clear?
Montana didn't look away.
— Crystal clear, boss. And this time, with my new equipment... that crawling thing is going to die.
Midtown High — End of the Day
The bell rang throughout the school.
The students quickly left their classrooms, noisy and relieved that the day was finally coming to an end.
Peter, Gwen, and Harry exited the building together, chatting casually. They were about to leave the school grounds when a hall monitor suddenly stepped in front of them.
— Hold it right there! Where do you think you're going?
— What? Gwen asked, confused.
Harry leaned slightly toward her.
— Gwen, don't say anything... just keep walking.
— Not you, Stacy. I'm talking to Mr. Osborn, who's pretending not to understand.
Peter frowned.
— Uh... but what's going on...?
The hall monitor let out a small sigh.
— I was told that Osborn was supposed to report to detention right after class for disrupting the lesson this morning. But apparently, he forgot...
— But I wasn't the only one! Peter disrupted the class too!
The hall monitor immediately stopped.
Her gaze landed on Peter.
Gwen froze as well.
For a few seconds, everyone waited for his answer.
— Is that true, Parker?
Peter hesitated.
All eyes were now on him.
It was time to choose.
Tell the truth... or save himself.
He then adopted a particularly convincing offended expression.
— Ma'am... do you really think I could end up in detention? Me?! I know I'm often late, but disrupting class... never!
Harry stared at him, speechless.
— He actually did it...
— Well, that's settled. Have a good rest of the day, children.
The hall monitor grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him toward the detention room.
As he was being led away, Harry shot Peter a dark glare.
Even from a distance, the threat was perfectly clear.
Gwen watched the scene, amused despite herself.
— Pff... You're unbelievable, you know that?
— Pff... Of course I know that.
She let out a laugh.
Then she gave him a knowing smile.
Peter froze for a moment.
He looked at her for a second, almost dreamily.
— Nice smile, by the way.
Gwen blushed slightly, caught off guard.
Peter immediately looked away as if nothing had happened.
— I'm only realizing now how beautiful Gwen is... I wonder how many guys have already tried their luck.
The two friends continued walking toward the bus stop.
A few minutes later, a bus slowly arrived in front of them.
Just as Gwen was about to board, Peter felt a vibration in his pocket.
He pulled out his phone.
A police frequency alert.
A robbery was in progress.
— Peter? Aren't you getting on?
— Uh... no. Sorry, I just... remembered I have something to do.
Gwen seemed slightly disappointed.
— Oh... alright. See you tomorrow then.
— Yeah, see you tomorrow. Get home safe!
The bus doors closed.
The vehicle pulled away and gradually disappeared down the street.
Peter watched it for a few moments.
— Should I... maybe try my luck with Gwen...? After all, we've known each other for a really long time. But... what if she rejects me?
The mere thought made him grimace.
He immediately shook his head to drive the idea away.
— Yeah, great idea, Peter! Ruin your friendship while you're at it.
He let out a sigh before putting away his phone.
Then he stepped into a nearby alley.
After making sure he was alone, he changed into his Spider-Man suit in just a few seconds.
— Alright... I'll deal with that later. Right now, there's something more urgent.
He immediately climbed up the side of a building at full speed.
A few moments later, he reached the rooftop.
He left his belongings there before launching himself into the void.
One web.
Then another.
His body was already swinging between the buildings of New York as he headed straight toward the robbery.
Manhattan Streets — End of the Day
A few minutes later, Spider-Man emerged above the rooftops of Manhattan.
He sped through the sky before diving toward the street.
Chaos reigned below.
Gunshots echoed in every direction. A police vehicle was riddled with bullet holes. Behind one of its doors, an officer was doing his best to stay under cover while a hail of bullets rained down on his position.
— This is a unit in distress! I need backup immediately! These guys are heavily armed, it's impossible to get close! I won't last much longer—if I move, I'm dead!
A shadow suddenly crossed the sky.
In a fraction of a second, Spider-Man launched himself forward.
He grabbed the officer by the arm and pulled him away from cover.
Barely had they left the ground when an explosion tore through the air behind them.
The police car instantly turned into a fireball.
— Dead, you say?
The officer looked around, completely disoriented.
— Holy shit! Who the hell are you?! Can't you see how dangerous it is here?!
Spider-Man slightly turned his head toward him.
— Spider-Man saves your life and the first thing you do is yell at him? Couldn't you ask me for an autograph instead?
— Spider-Man?! You're real?! For real?!
This time, it was the hero's turn to be speechless.
— Seriously?
— Ah... Spider-Man! Finally...!
Spider-Man immediately looked up.
Montana.
His spider-sense instantly exploded inside his mind.
Without thinking, he dragged the officer with him in a desperate leap.
A burst of gunfire tore through the spot where they had been standing a second earlier.
The two rolled across the asphalt before Spider-Man immediately got back to his feet.
He quickly climbed onto a nearby metal structure and placed the officer behind a wall, safely out of harm's way.
— So, uh... do we know each other? I get the feeling you've been waiting for me. But tell me if I'm wrong.
Montana displayed a fake smile.
— That's right. We wanted to... talk.
— And for that, you organize a little massacre in the city? Classy. Alright, let's talk fast, then I'll drop you off in prison.
Spider-Man glanced toward the officer, who was still shaken.
In the distance, a ladder was leaning against a building.
He immediately pointed at it.
— Sir, listen. Over there, on the right, there's a ladder. Take it and get far away. I'll handle these guys, don't worry.
The officer quickly nodded before disappearing into an alley.
Spider-Man then jumped down from his position and walked toward the three criminals.
His shoulders appeared relaxed.
His muscles, however, were ready to react at any moment.
— Go ahead... come a little closer.
— Well... are you going to talk or not?
Montana's smile suddenly vanished.
— NOW!
His two henchmen lunged at Spider-Man.
Bad idea.
Spider-Man immediately pivoted.
He grabbed the first man by the arm and slammed him headfirst into the ground.
Then he followed up with a spinning kick that violently struck the second man's jaw.
Two seconds.
Two opponents neutralized.
— Man... I really don't have time to—
His spider-sense screamed.
Too late.
A devastating shockwave slammed directly into him.
His body flew across the entire street before crashing into a wall.
A second later, he fell heavily onto the asphalt.
Out of breath.
Around him, silhouettes began emerging from the shadows.
Dozens of them.
All armed to the teeth.
Montana watched the scene with satisfaction.
— Not bad... but that was just a diversion. So, still sure you can put us behind bars?
Spider-Man painfully got back to his feet.
Then, unexpectedly, he placed a finger against his ear as if receiving an invisible call.
The mercenaries exchanged puzzled glances.
A tense silence settled over the area.
Then Spider-Man raised his eyes toward Montana.
— My little finger tells me yes.
Montana's face twisted with anger.
— Fine. KILL HIM!
A collective roar echoed through the street.
Dozens of mercenaries charged toward Spider-Man, armed with knives, bats, and iron bars.
But the wall-crawler became a true whirlwind.
He dodged, struck, swung between his opponents, and chained together webs and lightning-fast attacks with astonishing fluidity.
— And for the record, you're first on my list! But before that... what exactly are you wearing? Seriously, did you see how far you launched me?!
Montana gritted his teeth.
— Want another taste? Be my guest!
He immediately activated his gauntlets.
Another shockwave erupted.
Spider-Man leaped aside and narrowly avoided it.
But Montana gave him no respite.
A second attack followed almost immediately.
This time, the impact hit its target.
Spider-Man's body smashed through the facade of a building with a deafening crash.
A crater formed in the wall.
Montana turned toward his men.
— Alright, everybody up! You think I pay you to sleep?! Get me that spider and bleed him dry! Is that clear?!
— YES, BOSS!
— Okay... those gauntlets fire shockwaves, but he aims like a brute. With all these guys around, if I slip between them and go straight for him... he won't be able to do anything without hitting his own men. Yeah... that could work.
Spider-Man slowly rose to his feet.
Dust covered his suit.
Around him, the mercenaries tried to make out his silhouette in the darkness.
— Boss... do you think he ran away?
A laugh echoed behind them.
— Me? Run away? I won't do what your father did, don't worry, sweetheart!
The thug spun around abruptly.
— What?! Say that again, asshole!
— Oh... I think I struck a nerve. Sorry everyone, but recess is over.
Montana crossed his arms.
— You think you can beat forty of my guys... and me?
Spider-Man remained perfectly calm.
— You know what they say: "Actions speak louder than words."
The moment he finished speaking, he leaped onto a wall before throwing himself into the heart of the melee.
He spun through the battlefield like a red-and-blue lightning bolt.
Every movement seemed calculated.
Every strike found its target.
Every web neutralized a weapon.
The criminals fell one after another, unable to keep up with his speed.
— Okay, Peter... stay calm. You've got agility and a sixth sense. Focus. Just take down their leader, and the rest will follow.
In the middle of the chaos, Montana desperately tried to follow his opponent's movements.
— Damn it, where is he?! Get out of my way, you idiots, I can't see a thing!
Furious, he clenched his fists.
Then raised both arms.
— Screw it! Fine! Eat this!
A monstrous double shockwave exploded in front of him.
The blast swept through the entire area.
Spider-Man's spider-sense immediately activated.
He jumped onto an opponent's head before launching himself out of range.
The shockwave then slammed directly into the mercenaries who were still standing.
Bodies were thrown against walls, cars, and nearby dumpsters.
Within seconds, every last one of them was out of the fight.
Spider-Man instantly took advantage of the opening.
A web shot out behind him.
Using it as an anchor point, he launched himself forward at full speed.
Montana barely had time to lift his head.
Spider-Man's kick struck him head-on.
The fight was over.
The other criminals, already defeated, were now immobilized against walls beneath thick cocoons of webbing.
Spider-Man walked toward Montana.
Out of breath.
But still completely in control.
— Alright... now that you're all wrapped up like presents... You, big guy. Why wait for me instead of running? Usually criminals just want cash. You guys actually tried to kill me. Which isn't very cool, by the way. And you, with those shockwave gauntlets... I gotta admit, that REALLY impressed me. So go ahead, I'm listening.
Montana remained silent.
Expressionless.
Not a single word left his mouth.
Spider-Man watched his prisoner for a few seconds before turning toward the other criminals.
— And what about you extras? Any explanation?
No one answered.
A heavy silence settled over the scene.
Some of the thugs even avoided his gaze, visibly nervous.
Suddenly, a ringtone echoed through the street.
Montana's phone.
Spider-Man searched his pocket, retrieved the device, and answered it.
— Hello? The amazing Spider-Man speaking! If you're calling, I assume you're connected to all this, so listen carefully... if you—
A cold voice interrupted him.
— So it's you... Spider-Man. If you're answering, then Montana failed. I must admit, I wasn't expecting that.
Spider-Man immediately stopped talking.
The man's tone was calm.
But there was something deeply unsettling about his voice.
— Okay... and you are?
— You can call me... the Big Boss.
Spider-Man remained silent for a second.
— The Big Boss? Seriously? Got quite the ego, huh? But more importantly... why attack me? We don't even know each other.
— No. But I'd like to offer you a deal.
— A deal? After trying to kill me? Hmm... interesting. I'm listening.
The man's voice remained perfectly composed.
— Work for me. Join my organization. You'll make money... a lot of money. You're young, I can hear it in your voice. You could keep playing the hero, save people, and we could even arrange your "heroic exploits." The only condition is that you stop interfering with my business and leave my men alone. You could be both a hero and one of the richest people in this city... perhaps even beyond that. So... what do you think?
A silence followed.
Then Spider-Man burst out laughing.
The criminals exchanged confused glances.
— Wait... you actually think I'm going to sell my soul for money? Listen carefully, "Mr. Big Boss": I'll never work for you or anyone else. Do you think all of this is some kind of game to me?! You're wrong. This city is mine. And as long as I'm around... you're heading straight to prison.
Around him, several thugs were left speechless.
Even Montana seemed surprised.
On the other end of the line, there was no response.
Then the call was abruptly disconnected.
Spider-Man looked at the phone.
— Pff... now you hang up, huh?
He dropped the device to the ground.
One of the mercenaries still trapped in webbing lifted his head.
— You're dead. You don't know who our boss is. He's gonna—
A web immediately covered his mouth.
— You talk too much.
In the distance, sirens began echoing through the streets of Manhattan.
— Alright, the cops won't be long now. Time for me to go!
Spider-Man pulled a small sticky note from his pocket.
Quickly, he scribbled a few words on it before sticking it to a nearby pole.
"Watch out, the guy in the yellow and red suit can fire shockwaves with his gear. Other than that, have a nice evening. Signed: Spider-Man."
He then turned toward Montana.
— And you, electric boxer. Since I don't know your name, I came up with one for you. Starting today... you're called Shocker! Hope you like the pun. Anyway... enjoy your stay in prison!
Pleased with himself, Spider-Man stepped back a few paces.
Then he launched himself into the air.
Within seconds, his silhouette vanished between the skyscrapers.
The street gradually fell silent once more.
A few moments later, several police cars arrived at the scene.
But unexpectedly, some officers didn't move toward the criminals to arrest them.
They approached them...
And started cutting them free.
Montana quickly regained his freedom.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
— Thanks for the help, sir. And about that cockroach... what are the orders?
The cold voice immediately returned.
— The same as before. We eliminate him. But this time... you won't be acting alone.
Montana slowly nodded.
— Understood, boss.
Parker House — Evening
Peter returned home later that evening.
The house was quiet.
His aunt was apparently not back yet.
As he passed through the kitchen, he noticed a small note stuck to the refrigerator.
His dinner was ready.
Without wasting any time, he heated it up, ate quickly, and headed straight to his bedroom.
A few minutes later, he was sitting in front of his computer.
The glow of the screen faintly illuminated the room as he typed a few words into a search engine.
"Big Boss."
The results appeared.
Nothing.
No useful information.
No leads.
— It must just be a nickname. Impossible to trace online. And even if there's something, it'll be hidden. Guys like that don't leave tracks. Well... at least I tried. Alright. Time for bed.
Peter closed his computer.
Then he slipped beneath his blankets.
But sleep refused to come.
His mind kept racing.
Too many questions.
Too much adrenaline.
Too much uncertainty.
— But seriously... who were those guys? Up until now, I've been taking down small-time neighborhood thieves. And now? Forty armed men... and a lunatic shooting shockwaves? What has New York turned into...? And this "Big Boss"... He targeted me because I'm interfering with his business. Is he kidding me or what?
Peter stared at the ceiling.
The events of the evening continued replaying in his head.
Then he thought back to the offer.
The money.
The power.
The possibility of becoming a hero under someone's control.
His jaw immediately tightened.
— If I hadn't been there tonight... that cop would be dead. His family would have gone through the same nightmare we did... after Uncle Ben. And he dares say it's all a game? No. No way! It's because of people like him that I lost my uncle. And never again... never again will I look the other way. Whether you have mercenaries or Shocker protecting you... I'll stop you, Big Boss.
Peter's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
Dark.
Determined.
His mind was at war.
And that night, he made himself a promise.
He would stop that man.
No matter how long it took.
No matter the obstacles.
The Big Boss would end up behind bars.
TO BE CONTINUED...