Chapter 41: Gangster in a Neighborhood

Um, hello," Ben Parker's voice trembled slightly, his expression a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "Can I get our newspaper?

"Sure thing," I responded, trying to shake off my unease. Handing over the newspaper, I forced a polite smile. As Ben took it and closed the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

"System," I whispered urgently within my mind, "can you tell me when exactly Peter Parker would take on the role of Spider-Man?"

The AI system hummed softly before responding, "Affirmative, host. Initiating..... ...ding. It seems that Peter would step into the role of Spider-Man in the year 1995."

The news stunned me. "1995?" I blurted out, unable to believe it. How could Peter Parker become Spider-Man in 1995? It just didn't add up.

In a rush of panic, I questioned the system about the canonical events, particularly about Miles Morales and Peter Parker's fate. "What about the canon events, like Miles Morales? What if I change Peter Parker's life?" I thought frantically. "What if he never becomes Spider-Man? after all? It's 1995, there's still time."

The AI System responded promptly, its voice echoing in my mind. "Host, you don't need to worry. In this world, Spider-Man will always be Peter Parker. Your transformation into Spider-Man wasn't due to a radioactive spider bite; it was facilitated by the Spider-Man System. You're not bound by the same rules as Miles Morales. Rest assured, even with your newfound abilities, Peter's role as Spider-Man will remain unchanged."

Relief washed over me as I processed the reassurance from the AI System. "Thank goodness," I sighed internally. "I don't want someone like Miguel O'Hara coming after me." But then another thought struck me, sending a chill down my spine. "Wait, if it's 1995 when peter became Spiderman, Then I'll be a grandpa by the time I meet Peter. What a twist."

"Well, I'll deal with that when the time comes," I mused silently. "Right now, I've got enough to worry about fighting bad guys in 1947." With that thought, I put aside the unsettling revelation and focused on the immediate task ahead. As I pondered, Chris's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Hey, Michael, did you finish handing out all the newspapers?" Chris asked as he approached me.

I cursed inwardly, realizing my mistake. "Shit, I forgot," I admitted sheepishly.

Chris let out a sigh and gave me a knowing look. "What are you thinking about, huh? Let me guess, girls?" He chuckled lightly before getting serious. "Come on, we need to finish this before Mark and Emily. Let's get moving." With that, we hurried off to complete our task, determined not to fall behind.

As we kept giving out newspapers, we ended up in a quiet spot, far from the busy streets. Out of nowhere, some rough-looking guys stepped out of the shadows. They had hats pulled down low and coats fluttering in the wind, looking pretty tough. It was obvious they weren't just regular folks.

Chris looked at me nervously, his eyes widening with worry. "Shit, Gangster," he muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for his pocketknife.

I whispered to Chris, "Where did you get that pocket knife?"

Chris replied quietly, "I've had this pocket knife since I was 8. It's for protection. You know, being wealthy, I've always felt like a target. You never know who might come after you." His words hinted at a vulnerability rarely seen in Chris, showing the challenges that come with his privilege.

There were five tough-looking men, standing before us like they own us. It was evident on their face they were here to collect money for their boss.

Suddenly, one of the men interjected, his voice filled with menace. "Hey, you two, do you have any money? You better hand it over to our boss, Albert Francis Capone," he demanded, his words dripping with threat.

"What if I don't?" I retorted confidently, though a part of me was uneasy, especially for my friend Chris. "And I'm not your father to hand out cash. Grow up," I added with a hint of sarcasm

The men exchanged glances, their expressions turning dark as they sized us up. It was clear they weren't pleased with my response. The leader of the group narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening. "You two will regret crossing us," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

Chris maintained his composure, his tone measured as he responded, "We're not looking for trouble. We're just trying to make an honest living. Surely we can find a peaceful resolution to this."

Suddenly, the leader's tone shifted, becoming more menacing as he barked out his command. "Go beat them to pulp and take their money," he ordered, his words filled with hostility.

"Listen, there's no need for violence," Chris said, his voice calm but authoritative. "We're not looking for trouble, and neither should you be. Let's all just walk away from this peacefully."

the leader's expression hardened once again, and he nodded to his companions.

"Enough talk," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Get them!"

With that, the group lunged forward, fists raised and anger etched on their faces. Chris and I braced ourselves, knowing that we were in for a fight.

As the tension rose, the leader of the group moved towards Chris with clenched fists and a menacing look. Chris, trained in Arnis, swiftly dodged the punch, stepping aside skillfully. He struck the leader's side with a well-timed blow, then followed up with a quick stab to the left shoulder, disarming him efficiently.

As the fight started, my Spider Sense kicked in, warning me of danger. With my reflexes sharp, I could predict every move before it came. When one of the thugs tried to attack me from behind, I felt his presence and dodged quickly, then countered with a well-aimed punch.

Amidst the scenario, I spotted a glint of metal and, with lightning speed, pushed Chris out of harm's way just as a gunshot echoed through the alley. "Chris!" I shouted, my heart racing as I propelled him to safety. With adrenaline pumping, I stayed vigilant, ready to defend against any further threats.

I instructed Chris to stay back while I dealt with the three assailants. The one holding the gun appeared to be the second-in-command, while the leader was already gravely injured from Chris's earlier attack. It wasn't surprising that Chris was skilled in martial arts, considering his rich background.

Chris expressed concern, "Michael, are you sure you can handle them? They have guns."

 "Don't worry, Chris. When it comes to fighting, I don't lose," I replied confidently. With that, I swiftly outsped the second-in-command, delivering a powerful kick to his face

As the second-in-command stumbled from my first hit, I took advantage of the opportunity. I swung my leg high and brought it down hard on his side. He fell to the ground, unable to continue.

As the second attacker approached, I quickly spun around on my heel and swung my leg in a spinning motion, hitting him square in the jaw. The force of the kick knocked him off balance, and he stumbled backward before falling to the ground, defeated. Now the last one standing.

With a deep breath, I shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet, anticipating the moment to strike. As the final opponent lunged forward, his fists clenched in a futile attempt to retaliate, I seized the opportunity.

With lightning speed, I unleashed a powerful uppercut, channeling the strength into the blow. My fist connected squarely with his chin, sending a shockwave of impact reverberating through his body.

As I delivered the uppercut, I made sure to hold back just enough to incapacitate him without causing serious harm. It was a fine balance between subduing our adversaries and ensuring their safety. After all, I had no intention of causing permanent damage or taking a life, even in the heat of battle.

"Michael, that was... something," Chris muttered, his tone is calm but his eyes betraying his surprise. "I mean, I knew you could handle yourself, but that was on another level." He scratched his head, struggling to find the right words. "Guess I underestimated you."

 "Let's go," I said, turning away from the scene. "Did you kill the leader, Chris?"

Chris shot me a look of disbelief. "What do you think? Am I a murderer?" he replied indignantly. "Sure, I stabbed him, but it's not like it was fatal."

Meanwhile

As Mark and Emily continued to distribute newspapers, they were interrupted by the appearance of a group of thugs, not much older than themselves. Who seems to be a leader, with a buzz cut and a swaggering demeanor, eyed them with suspicion.

"You two seem to have a lot of money, judging by your clothes," he remarked, his tone dripping with menace. "You should pay up. This territory belongs to the Capone family."

Sensing the danger, Mark get into action, his voice urgent as he urged Emily to flee. "Emily, run!" he shouted, his tone conveying the urgency of the situation. "We don't have time to waste. Run!"

As Emily dashed away, tears streaming down her face, she called out to Mark with determination in her voice. "Don't worry, Mark! I'll find Michael and Chris!" Her words echoed in the air as she disappeared into the distance, her resolve unwavering despite the fear in her heart.

The buzz cut guy sneered menacingly as Emily fled. "Hah! Let that girl run. Doesn't matter anyway. I know she will come back to save you," he taunted with a chilling grin, his eyes glinting with malice.

To be continued