Spider-Guy

Peter followed both ambulances as they sped toward the hospital, his mind spiraling with a mix of worry and anticipation. He had barely processed the events that had unfolded, but now, every fiber of his being was focused on Ben. When the vehicles arrived, he watched with a growing sense of helplessness as both Ben and the robber were quickly unloaded and whisked inside by the medical teams. Without thinking, Peter decided to follow Ben, but his steps were cut short by a stern-looking security guard stationed at the emergency room entrance.

"Sir, can you state your name and the reason you're here?" the guard asked, his tone professional yet firm, not leaving any room for negotiation.

"That was my uncle they just brought in," Peter replied, his voice urgent and strained. Every second felt like it could be the difference between life and death.

"Sir, there's nothing you can do for him right now. The doctors are handling everything. I just need your name, and we'll get you processed." The guard's tone softened slightly, clearly recognizing Peter's distress.

As much as Peter wanted to barge through the doors, he forced himself to comply. The paperwork seemed to drag on forever, each second ticking by with an agonizing slowness. His hands twitched with anxiety. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was given directions to Ben's room. His feet felt heavy as he made his way down the bright, sterile corridors. Along the way, his eyes caught the sight of a uniformed officer stationed outside one of the rooms, and his stomach churned. It had to be the robber's room.

Pushing the thought aside, Peter reached the office of the attending physician. He stepped inside, already bracing himself for the worst. The doctor looked up from his desk, his expression somber.

"You must be Mr. Parker," the doctor said softly.

Peter simply nodded, the tightness in his chest constricting further. He already knew what was coming.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your uncle has passed," the doctor said, his voice laden with the weight of the news.

Peter had steeled himself for this, but hearing the confirmation still hit with the force of a wrecking ball. He swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting the wave of emotion threatening to spill over. "Has my aunt been notified?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We've contacted her, and she's on her way. Once she arrives, we'll go over everything with her. You're welcome to wait outside until she gets here," the doctor said, his tone gentle.

Peter left the office, but the thought of waiting in the cold, clinical atmosphere of the hospital was unbearable. The scent of antiseptic and the low hum of the fluorescent lights only heightened his agitation. Instead, he found himself walking past the officer again, exiting the hospital into the cool night air. His mind raced back to the man who had taken Ben's life. The man who now lay in a hospital bed, alive and breathing, while his uncle was gone.

His eyes traced the side of the building, and Peter quickly realized the robber's room was on the same side as the doctor's office. Both rooms had windows, and a plan began to form in his mind. Peter noted the placement of security cameras—they were pointed at the ground near the building's perimeter. He could avoid them.

His body tensed as memories of his powers resurfaced. The way his hands could stick to surfaces, how he could leap distances no ordinary person could. Without hesitation, Peter took a few steps back from the hospital wall and sprinted forward, launching himself into the air. His goal was simple—jump to the next floor and stay out of the cameras' line of sight. But as his body lifted off the ground, something unexpected happened.

Instead of clearing just one floor, Peter soared high into the sky, well above the hospital's five-story structure. He hovered nearly 30 meters—about 100 feet—above the ground, his body seemingly defying gravity. The realization of his newfound strength sent a jolt of shock through him. He landed on the rooftop with surprising ease, the thud of his landing almost inaudible in the quiet night.

His heart pounded as he processed what had just happened, but there was no time to dwell on it. He crouched low, moving silently across the rooftop until he reached the edge. His hands clung to the side of the building instinctively, the sensation of his palms sticking to the surface feeling as natural as breathing. He began his descent, climbing down the side of the hospital with a fluidity that felt almost instinctual, his body moving like a spider clinging to a web.

As Peter passed the lit windows, he carefully peered inside to ensure he remained unnoticed. Three floors down, he finally reached the window he was looking for. Inside, he saw the robber, sound asleep in his bed. Peter's blood boiled. The man who had killed his uncle was lying there peacefully, while Ben's lifeless body was somewhere inside the hospital. How could he sleep after what he'd done?

Peter slid the window open with ease, slipping inside without making a sound. He approached the bed, each step heavier with the weight of his anger and grief. His hands trembled as dark thoughts flooded his mind. It would be so easy to end this man's life right now, to take justice into his own hands and avenge Ben. But as he stood over the sleeping figure, a memory resurfaced. His uncle's voice echoed in his mind: "If you can do something, make sure it's for the good of others."

This wasn't justice. It was vengeance.

Suddenly, Peter's senses sharpened. He felt a presence approaching. He whipped around, bolting for the window just as a blonde woman opened the door and entered the room. Without hesitation, Peter leaped back through the window, swinging with his hands on the side of the window frame.