I woke up and just... went. I didn't even pause to question myself—my legs were already on autopilot, doing that thing where they feel lighter, faster, and I'm suddenly dressed in thirty seconds flat. I nearly launched myself off the last step, but caught the railing at the last second. Smooth. Not quite superhero material yet.
"Still working on that," I grumbled.
Aunt May peeked over the frying pan, eyeing me like I'd grown a second head. "You're up early."
"Yeah, got some stuff to do." I played it cool.
"Before school?" Suspicion level: Aunt May.
"Extra school," I tossed out. Yeah, that definitely sounded real.
She barely bought it, but she didn't press. "At least eat something."
I snagged a piece of toast, careful not to crush it with my new grip, mumbled a rushed "See you later," and bolted for the door.
"Be careful," she called after me.
"Always," I shot back. Not strictly true, but let's pretend.
Outside, my legs wanted to break the sound barrier, but I reigned them in. If I zipped around like the Flash, people would notice. And I didn't need that kind of drama. I reached the construction site way too fast, toes itching for action.
MJ's Perspective
"Peter! Wait!" MJ—never one to miss a beat—darted through a gaggle of students, desperate to keep me in sight. The moment she made the corner, though, I was gone. Like, Houdini-level gone. No tracks, no clues, just empty sidewalk.
"That's not normal," she muttered, eyebrows scrunched up.
She crossed her arms, sizing up the situation. "He didn't just disappear. Okay, Parker, you're definitely hiding something."
Her gaze swept the street. "And I'm going to figure out what." You could practically hear the detective music.
Construction Site
I stepped inside and took stock. The place was all beams and dust, empty enough for some trial runs. Pulled out my mask—handmade, nothing fancy—and slipped it over my face. Hood up, sleeves down, ready for action.
(This is want the suit looks like).
"Alright," I whispered. "Let's do this."
Steel beams overhead looked perfect for web-slinging. I fired out my first web.
Thwip.
It landed solid. I jumped—momentum just… right, but maybe too right. This was fast. Really fast.
"Okay, that's a *lot* faster than it looks," I muttered.
Released the web too soon, dropped, fired again. Managed to avoid a faceplant. Each swing got better. By the fourth go, my body was moving like it'd been born for this—no awkward flailing, just clean, sharp motion.
Now, into the open space. Where people could see me.
Phones shot up like sunflowers in spring. Eyes wide, mouths hanging open.
"Yo, what the hell is that guy doing?!"
"Is he… swinging?"
"How is he doing that?!"
"Is that, like, a spider guy?"
"Spider guy?"
"I dunno, man, look at him!"
Someone piped up, "I almost died just watching that!"
I snorted, barely missing a streetlight. "I heard that," I muttered, trying to look slick, not scared.
Joked to myself, "Spider guy, huh?" Guess that's an upgrade from 'that weird kid.'
Hero Work
Most things were pretty low-key. Cat stuck in a tree? I scaled the trunk, took a claw to the hand, but handed it back anyway.
"Yeah, fair," I sighed.
Later, I helped an old lady across the street by webbing a quick barrier, slowing traffic. She smiled, thanked me.
"No problem. Friendly neighborhood service." Tried that line out—felt good.
Actually, yeah, that works, I decided.
Late Afternoon — The Robbery
On a rooftop, I caught my breath. The day had been weird, but nothing major. Then, down below—three dudes breaking into a store. Classic.
"Of course," I sighed.
I dropped in behind them.
"Hey."
They turned around, sizing me up.
"Who are you supposed to be?" one asked.
"Someone who doesn't like what you're doing," I shot back.
"Kid, walk away," said the second guy. Standard criminal arrogance.
I shook my head. "Not happening."
One took a swing. I sidestepped, tapped his ankle, and watched him hit the pavement—honestly, it felt almost unfair.
"Easier than expected," I admitted.
The other two jumped me, but I ducked and moved—webbed one guy to the wall, snared the last guy's legs as he tried to run. Three up, three down.
"Seriously, you guys should pick a different hobby," I said.
The Note
I crouched and scribbled on a scrap of paper:
Gift from your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
(P.S. Webbing dissolves in one hour.)
Doodled a stick Spidey giving a thumbs up. Stuck it to one guy's shirt. Sirens in the distance—time to disappear.
"That's my cue," I said, swinging away.
Police Arrival
Officers arrived, staring at the scene, scratching their heads.
"What is this stuff?" one asked.
"No idea," said another.
He spotted the note, pulled it off.
Captain George Stacy
A shiny black car rolled up. George Stacy—freshly transferred, still learning which side of the city made the best coffee—stepped out for his first day. Definitely not normal.
"Captain, you should see this," an officer called.
George walked through the doorway, taking it all in: three suspects, zero injuries, no broken furniture, just a bunch of confused criminals stuck to the wall.
He crouched and checked the webbing. "This isn't rope."
"No, sir."
"And this held them?"
"Yes, sir."
He unfolded the note:
Gift from your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
(P.S. Webbing dissolves in one hour.)
He took a moment, looked over the scene. Whoever did this had a clue. Maybe a few clues.
"You think it's a vigilante?" one officer asked.
George looked up at the skyline, almost like he expected someone to swing by.
"...Maybe."
The Next Morning
George stood in his kitchen, staring at the note. "Spider-Man," he said quietly, feeling the name roll around his mind.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Gwen Stacy, bag over her shoulder, ready for day one.
"First day?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah. Midtown High." She shrugged, half excited, half nervous.
He nodded. "Stay out of trouble."
She laughed—just a little. "I'll try."
He folded the note, slipped it in his pocket. "Something tells me that might not be possible."