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The next three chapters [Do we have a deal? Yes or definitely? – Part 4, Chikara Dojo – Part 1 and Time to Die – Part 1] are already available, and in a few hours [Chikara Dojo – Part 2] will be available as well.
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***
After the incident with the lady and her cat, the situations started to escalate in a way that almost made Peter miss the simplicity of being accused of trying to steal an animal.
There was a car with no brakes on a busy and narrow street, the driver completely panicked, honking nonstop as he desperately swerved around other vehicles — he unfortunately hit several side mirrors and knocked a motorcyclist off his bike along the way.
To make matters worse, the street led into a busy avenue, and if the car reached it at that speed, it would be a catastrophe.
Peter intercepted it halfway, landing hard on the hood while firing two webs at the buildings on either side, creating an anchor point. And even with his powers, the impact of the out-of-control vehicle's speed against his arms was brutal, drawing a small growl of pain from him.
But he held on tight, forcing the car to slow down with his own body. When the car finally stopped after a few yards, the hood was dented with the perfect imprint of his feet, which would definitely be cheaper than fixing a high-speed accident involving a dozen cars and who knew how many injured people.
The driver, a middle-aged man with his dress shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose, got out of the car, his legs so shaky that he could barely support himself on the door frame.
"Are you okay, sir?" Peter asked, stepping down from the car.
The man opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Y-yes, th-th-thank you very much," he said with difficulty.
"Take a deep breath and drink some water," Peter said, giving the man a light pat on the shoulder. "It's all right now. You're okay."
***
Shortly after, a cyclist wasn't as lucky.
A van ran a red light and hit him straight on, throwing him underneath the vehicle. When Peter arrived, there was already a small crowd around: some filming, others shouting, and many simply standing there, watching.
The cyclist was trapped under the van, lying on his back with his body pinned from one side of the vehicle to the other. He was conscious, but clearly in shock, with short, irregular breathing. Peter quickly assessed the situation. He positioned himself beside the van, planted his hands against the metal, his grip locking in place like it did when he scaled buildings, and lifted it.
Normally, that wasn't usually a problem, but the way the man was positioned meant Peter would have to lift the entire van at once, and doing it like that threw the weight distribution completely off. It was like trying to lift a table by just one of its legs — except the table weighed more than a ton and there was a person underneath it.
Peter's arms trembled a little with the effort; lifting something that way, and with that grip, was harder than it looked. Even so, he raised the van just enough for a few people to pull the cyclist out. The man was free, although he wasn't exactly in any condition to stand up and walk away; at least he could wait for the ambulance without being crushed under the weight of the van.
***
And then came the fire.
A three-story residential building consumed by flames, with black smoke pouring out of the windows, and the fire already devouring entire floors. Peter didn't think twice before entering that hell through a window. The heat hit like a solid wall, visibility dropping to almost nothing, and the smell of smoke burning his throat even through his mask.
It really was hell.
He had to act fast, moving from one room to another, breaking doors and walls. He had to carry some residents who had inhaled too much smoke outside, while others he simply guided to the windows before lowering them down with webs.
In one of the apartments, Peter found an entire family trapped at the end of a hallway consumed by fire, and had to literally carve a path through the flames to get them out, leaving him with some burns on his shoulders and arms. It was nothing his healing factor couldn't handle in a few hours.
When the last one came out, coughing and gasping, Peter had the upper part of his body partially burned and his suit completely scorched, but he was whole. The building hadn't been as fortunate; however, no one died — and, in that kind of situation, that was already a huge victory.
***
And as if that weren't enough, there was also a bank robbery.
Another classic, too.
But unlike the robbers he had faced the night before, these were clearly rookies, and the worst thing was a nervous criminal with hostages. They become violent and unpredictable like that — the finger on the trigger trembles and a racing heart processes any movement as a threat. That meant Peter would have to end this quickly.
Very quickly.
No margin for error.
He slipped in silently through the ceiling, climbing up the building's facade until he found a skylight that gave direct access to the main hall. From above, he watched the scene for a few seconds, mapping out the entire situation before acting.
There were five robbers.
Three were in the main hall, armed, with their rifles pointed at the civilians who were kneeling on the floor with their hands on their heads. The other two were at the already broken ATMs, stuffing black bags with money.
'Right... test 2.0,' he thought, his fingers already adjusting the web-shooters on his wrists. 'This time it'll work.'
THWIP! THWIP! THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!
The five webs found their targets, and before they could process what had happened, they were electrocuted. Unlike the previous night, this time the shock was strong enough to knock them to the floor and leave them unconscious.
'Situation resolved in less than ten seconds. A new record! Congratulations to me.' Peter descended on a web, his feet touching the hall floor as lightly as a feather. He began checking the hostages for injuries, but they were all fine, to his relief. 'Now all that's left is to web these five up and call the police.'
***
All of that happened in less than an hour, which brings us to now, with him standing in front of Betty Brant, who was staring at him with a hard look, the kind she perfected after years of dealing with lazy photographers and late reporters and editors with unpredictable moods.
Peter had seen that look before, usually directed at Jameson when he went overboard on a headline. "Hey, Betty," he said, leaning his elbows on the counter with a casual air he knew wasn't fooling anyone. "Did you do something with your hair? It looks really nice. Seriously, it's different. More... shiny than usual?"
Betty didn't even blink, the hard look remaining unchanged. "I haven't changed anything about my hair in the last two weeks, Peter. Unlike you, apparently." Her eyes ran over him from head to toe. "Got so busy with this that you stopped checking your phone?"
"...sorry?"
"Haa..." Betty sighed, the sound carrying a frustration that seemed to come from somewhere more personal than professional.
Peter let out an awkward laugh. "I'm really sorry. I'll try not to disappear again."
"Try?" Betty raised an eyebrow.
"I won't disappear. I won't disappear anymore." He corrected himself quickly.
She shook her head, her shoulders finally relaxing a little before pointing to the room behind her. "He's not going to be happy to see you at all."
'I'm sure he won't. Especially not after what I'm about to do.' Peter raised the envelope in his hand, showing it to Betty. "Maybe, but I know he's going to like this."
Betty looked at the envelope, then at him, and then back at the envelope. "Spider-Man?"
"And who else?" Peter replied with a smile.
She almost smiled. Almost. "Go on. And good luck."
"Thanks." Peter walked past her and headed to the editor-in-chief's office, preparing himself for a very constructive conversation.
***
Disclaimer: This story and its characters belong to Sony Pictures and Marvel Comics (Disney). This is merely a fanfiction written by a fan, with no intention of infringement.