Aftermath

The fire quickly began to consume the crates filled with the SPF.7 serum. Smoke started to rise, and Sol's heart rate quickened.

He couldn't let the fire spread to the rest of the warehouse — not with all the unconscious men still inside.

In a flash, Sol began wrapping the unconscious henchmen in webs, bundling them together as quickly as he could. His enhanced reflexes, sharp eyesight and speed allowed him to gather them all up swiftly.

The fire was spreading fast now. Flames spreaded up the walls, engulfing the crates, and sending waves of heat crashing over him. His body tensed as he moved faster. The heat was extremely uncomfortable due to his symbiote, but he was determined to get everyone out safely.

After wrapping the final group, he dragged them all out of the warehouse. A few seconds after he was out, a wave of heat suddenly pulsed out.

The moment one crate filled with those serums had exploded, a chain reaction occurred as the entire warehouse was blown to bits!

Boom!

Thankfully, Sol was already at a safe enough distance. Well, apparently not, as a piece of sharp metal shot at his face from the explosion.

His spidey senses flared as he tilted his head, the metal flying past him.

Sol sighed in relief as he decided to carry the webbed-up men a bit further away before laying them down gently.

Looking back at the destruction, Sol just helplessly shook his head.

"Well... I guess that's one way to destroy all the drugs... I should probably leave quickly. Such a big explosion will definitely attract the police here. Moreover, Silas is quite renowned in the criminal underworld. He's one of the more important people working under Tombstone. This will definitely attract a bunch of attention." Sol mused.

After webbing all the criminals again to make sure they can't escape, Sol quickly fled the scene, swinging away as he watched from a good distance on top of a building.

As expected, many policemen were arriving to the scene due to the explosion. It was quite hard to go unnoticed.

Sol watched from the rooftops, feeling a little proud of himself. "Maybe I have a small knack for this superhero stuff. Well... I won't jinx it. As long as Tombstone exists, New York will never be peaceful."

As he muttered, he suddenly saw the moon hanging above him as his expression soured.

"Crap! My mom is gonna be pissed! I was suppose to be back home hours ago!" Sol felt some sweat trickle down his face. He quickly checked his jacket pocket as he took out his phone and saw 8 missed calls!

He quickly called her back.

As Sol dialed his mom's number, his heart pounded in his chest, almost as fast as when he was fighting Silas and dodging literal bullets. He hoped, somehow, that she wouldn't be too mad.

The phone rang once, twice — then his mother picked up.

"Sol? Oh, thank God! I've been worried sick!" Her voice was filled with relief, and for a brief moment, Sol felt like maybe he'd dodged a bullet.

"Hey, Mom, yeah, I'm okay! I was just—"

Then he realised this was just the calm before the storm. The relief before the fury of a worried mother...

"Where on earth have you been?! It's been hours, Sol!" Her tone shifted so quickly, Sol felt like he'd been whiplashed. "You didn't answer any of my calls! Eight, Sol. Eight missed calls! Do you know what time it is?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Sol stammered. "I got... caught up with something important."

"Important? More important than coming home when you said you would?" Her voice was sharp now, and Sol could practically picture her standing with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "You better not be out there doing something dangerous. You know how I feel about you being out this late!"

She obviously knew the dangers of New York, especially at these hours, and Sol knew her anger was very much justified. Heck, he nearly died last night...

"No, no! It's not dangerous, I swear!" Sol cringed at the lie. "Just, uh, helping a friend out, you know? Lost track of time, that's all."

There was a pause, and Sol could feel the tension building.

"Helping a friend? Sol, if this 'friend' of yours is in trouble again, maybe it's time you found new friends! You're three hours late!" Her voice grew angrier with every word. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I was about to ask your father to get the police to search for you!"

"Mom, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"Sorry? You can be sorry when you get home! I'm sitting here with cold food in the kitchen because someone decided his 'friend' was more important than coming home!"

Sol sighed heavily, retracting his symbiote mask to breathe in some fresh air. He massaged his temples, feeling somewhat guilty for worrying his mother so much.

He internally laughed with a hint of bitterness.

He'd faced a mob, dodged bullets, fought a super-juiced thug, but nothing compared to the wrath of his mom when he was late. "I'm on my way now, I promise. I'll be home in like… an hour?"

"An hour? It better be! And Sol, don't think this is over. We're going to talk when you get here. In detail."

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" Sol muttered, knowing there was no escape from this.

"And don't try any excuses this time. You're not wriggling out of this one!" Her final words came with the click, her phone hanging up.

Sol stood there for a moment, sighing and shaking his head. "I can take down a warehouse full of armed thugs, but Mom? Totally different level."

With a deep breath, he shot a web and swung off into the night, knowing that the real battle was waiting for him at home.

Although he just turned 16 about two months ago, and usually people at this age normally go out late without any problems. His parents were quite strict. Moreover, he has never been this late without telling them what he'll be doing... And frankly, before he got his powers, he didn't really care. He quite liked staying in his house and playing games, reading books and comics. Thus, this was the first time he was being a 'rebellious' teenager...

"Man, I guess these are some of the difficulties of being Spider-Man..."

...

Chief Sulvian arrived at the scene of the explosion, a grim look on his face as the fire department worked to contain the last of the blaze. Officers were already searching through the wreckage, making sure everything was under control. Chief Sulvian stood tall, a commanding presence among the officers, but there was a weight in his expression. He hadn't expected his night to turn into this.

A younger officer, who had been waiting for him, rushed over. "Chief Sulvian, you're finally here. It's... bad. Real bad."

Chief Sulvian scanned the wreckage, his gaze hardening. "What's the situation? Anyone still inside?"

The officer shook his head. "No, sir. We found the men webbed up a safe distance away from the explosion. All of them are tied up, alive but unconscious. It was that new vigilante again — the one people have been talking about and the one that keeps leaving criminals for us to take care of."

Chief Sulvian had a complicated expression. The rumors had been spreading like wildfire about a masked figure operating in the shadows, someone who wasn't afraid to take down criminals.

Such a person that challenged the evil powers in this city was obviously looked on quite fondly by the people of New York.

Who wants to live in fear all day, always being on edge when it is night time?

'There are so many criminals, it's about time someone is dealing with them!' Would be most of their thoughts.

There was no doubt this vigilante had skills, but he was reckless, and he was starting to attract more and more attention.

And now, there was the added complication of Tombstone.

Chief Sulvian knelt down beside one of the webbed-up criminals, looking at the strange black webbing that held him down. It was unnervingly efficient. He examined the substance — it was quite sticky but very firm. They had previously tried cutting it and realised it took quite a bit of effort. They even had professionals try and figure out the material that made this strange web.

They found that the main ingredient was silk, but they had no idea what the black substance that was infused with it was.

The officer continued, "The guy in charge here, Silas, is one of Tombstone's lieutenants. This is a huge hit to his operations, Chief. We've got a massive quantity of destroyed illegal drugs. We've identified a new drug that Alchemax had created named SPF.7. The whole place was packed with this stuff. And now that it's blown sky-high… well, let's just say Tombstone won't be happy."

Chief Sulvian straightened up, his mind racing. He knew what a move like this meant. Striking at one of Tombstone's key operations wasn't just an inconvenience — it was practically a declaration of war. But they couldn't let a criminal like Tombstone continue to operate unchecked in their city.

The officer shifted uncomfortably. "What do we do, Chief? Going after Tombstone this openly... it could get very problematic."

Chief Sulvian crossed his arms, deep in thought. "We've got no choice. We can't just look the other way. If we let him walk all over us, we'll lose any semblance of control in this city. Tombstone's been pushing the boundaries for too long. This... vigilante did some of our job for us, but it's only a matter of time before things escalate."

He looked around at the officers, their faces tense. They knew the stakes. Tombstone was practically the secret ruler of New York, and crossing him meant there would be consequences. But letting his grip on the city tighten further wasn't an option either.

Of course, as a Chief, he did not fear him. He simply felt somewhat anxious that he may implicate his family into this mess. Its not uncommon for dangerous villains to take revenge by going after an individual's loved ones.

"Prepare the paperwork to bring Silas and his men in," Chief Sulvian ordered. "Get them processed and put a unit on high alert. We need to be ready for whatever Tombstone throws our way after this."

The officers nodded, moving quickly to carry out the orders. Sulvian's gaze drifted over to the smoldering remains of the warehouse. The fire had consumed everything, leaving nothing but ash and rubble behind.

Whoever this masked figure was, they were walking a fine line.

Chief Sulvian stared into the night, his thoughts churning. There was a part of him that admired what this vigilante was doing — taking down criminals that the police were too afraid to do so. But he also knew that people like that were unpredictable. And dangerous.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "Whoever you are," he muttered under his breath, "you better know what you're doing."

...