Meetings

Whew! Finished all this stuff. And while the notes were easy to make, the beacons, no way!

Oh, yeah. Tadam!

Here's the first version of the spider bugs. So far, I've only made six of them, but they still need to be tested. Meanwhile, my father's technical resources have thinned even further.

But it was worth it. The easiest part of my plan was making a signal locator.

It's just a small device that receives signals only from these six objects.

But the radius of action - a few kilometres, so hanging such on your target would not miss, and otherwise it will be like chasing the wind in the field.

The bugs themselves, it's a separate story. The essence is simple: a small low-charging battery, a pair of cables, and a shell made of magnetised aluminium. Doesn't sound so simple, though, does it? But the point is to make it all add up to a few centimetres!

A task worthy of my genius and after many hours of failure, it worked! But whether it did or not...

Never mind, it's a good start anyway.

Now, the remaining resources will go to the most risky and costly project of all: the Spider-Bot!

Man, I just want that little drone with all the different functions. True, in my current position, it'll take me a year to build it... But it'll be worth it!

I lean back in my chair with the face of an honestly fucked up workaholic.

It's more mental than physical, of course.

I look at my watch, it's seven o'clock. Right, time for the photo shoot.

I take all my unfinished technical endeavours, which are at least a little bit able to indicate that Spider-Man and Peter Parker are the same person, and stuff them all into a huge trunk, closed with a barn lock.

Next I take my improved "miracle belt", in the pockets a couple of cartridges, in the centre a torch, in the back right and left pockets locator and bugs, respectively.

After closing the lab, I slip into my room.

I slip my web shooters on my hands and get into my suit.

Now the camera. I'm pulling an old camera out of the wardrobe.

Yeah, I'll have to figure out something about the lack of pockets.

Nothing to do. I create a webbing around the camera and sling it over my shoulder.

That's it. Oh, I almost forgot.

I run to the desk and grab a piece of paper and a pen. "Uncle, aunt, go for a walk, don't lose me. I'll probably go straight to the lab afterwards (not the basement, Aunt May!) So don't worry. Peter."

Great.

Clipping the note on my door and flying out the window.

***

I love flying on spider webs! I've said it before, haven't I? Well, I'll say it again.

Flying over the skyscrapers of New York, I almost hit a flock of pigeons.

I landed on a building I'd spotted when I was flying over the neighbourhood. There were gargoyles!

I've always liked the 17th- and 18th-century gothic style.

So, I catch my breath and look for a good place to mount my camera. I've already wasted a lot of film trying to adjust to the camera's automatic shooting mode and my own movements so that the images wouldn't get blurred.

I think I've found it. I cling to the nearest building and dive onto the roof of a twelve-storey New York building. Thanks to the columns adorning the top, the camera can be anchored just fine, and the angle is just right to capture a few other rooftops and lampposts.

I set the timer and begin to perform miracles of gymnastic acrobatics!

I fly over a spider web - click. Kulbit from a building - click. A somersault followed by a flip to the wall - click. A couple more times until the film ran out.

Well, I've got a base case for a picture of myself.

I feel, of course, some discomfort, because I remember how in the comics, in the plot of "Civil War" Parker, who revealed his identity, was sued by JJ.

But I'm not a fuckwit. And the identity at the behest of Stark a.k.a. "Beard", I will not reveal, under any circumstances.

I'm not planning on revealing my identity at all.

Of course, if I cross paths with bloodhounds, like Daredevil or Wolverine, I'll keep my secret.

One can tell by the sound of a heartbeat, the other by the smell of deodorant. But that's okay.

Matt and Logan are evenly matched. Although you should think twice about that statement. I mean, what kind of reality am I in? At least the news coming out of Hell's Kitchen says Daredevil's been fighting crime for six months.

Well, if they're gonna invite him to Avengers teams, it depends on the terms. If they make me shine my face, I'll wave goodbye. I won't even be bored.

All right, what's the time? Nine sharp. Time to hit a club.

***

Manhattan. "Ice Eight. Half an hour later.

Landing on the opposite roof from my target. What can I say? Expensive, rich. It's a very nice little place. Ten minutes of watching the entrance and imagining how much it might cost to get in, and then a luxury limousine parks across the street.

A typical Italian gangster from the '40s gets out of the driver's seat.

No joke, he's even wearing a hat.

Opening the door, he releases my target. A luxurious blue pinstripe suit, a bogus rose on the inside pocket, and his head glistens with reinforced steel. Hammerhead.

Many would say that this one-and-a-half-metre oakleaf is a very mediocre villain, but believe me, it's a very dangerous creature.

Adjusts his tie and walks calmly into the club.

I don't know how long he'll be there, but I need to keep an eye on him. I carefully fly by the car and, stopping, quickly put a bug on the bottom.

Of course, my performance was appreciated by the whole club crowd and passers-by, so like a clown I jump on a lamppost and broadcast from it:

- Ladies and gentlemen, your friendly neighbour Spider-Man wishes you a good evening!

I twist myself around on that pole a couple of times in stunts like a professional stripper for the crowd's amusement and fly away.

I hope that was a distraction.

I go back to the roof and ambush him again.

Two hours later, the bastard finally deigns to come out, in the company of his girlfriend.

Seriously, if he's the reason I'm going to get hit by my family...I hope they're asleep by now.

Rotten gets in the car and they drive off. Like a shadow, Spider follows his victim.

Half an hour later, the car stops outside a high-rise complex.

So, if you believe films about gangsters, they always occupy the penthouse. Climbing onto the roof, I take an observation position. Fifteen minutes later, the lights come on and the Hammerhead flashes through the window. Bingo.

Sure, maybe there should have been some sort of plan, but honestly, fuck it. The intemperate spider now reigns supreme.

I cling to the edge of the roof and fly into the penthouse window in a corkscrew motion, shattering it completely.

The Hammerhead's girlfriend squeals, the bandit rolls over the bar, and two of his bodyguards burst into the room.

I cling to the couch with my webbing and launch it at the hapless guards. One man manages to dodge, but the second one is smashed against the wall.

At the same time the "gangster" starts to act, coming out from under the counter and shooting at me from the nine hundred and eleven. I dodge and cover the muzzle with spider web, next movement I get closer to the second bodyguard, who has not come to his senses yet and knock him out with a direct blow to the jaw.

The Hammerhead, meanwhile, gave up his futile attempts to clean his weapon and decided to crawl out from under the counter.

- So what kind of freak are you?

- I take it you don't know about last night's incident?

- Oh, so you're Spider-Man? You know, you gave Shocker a good beating, but he's always been a slob," the big guy says, coming around me in a radius.

- So you're not? - I mirror his actions.

- I'm not," he jumps out of his seat and comes at me like a battering ram.

I jump up, but he stops abruptly, grabs my leg and slams me to the floor. I jump up and fire a web at him. The Hammerhead dodges.

- That was unpleasant," I say angrily.

- What more will it be, spiderweb," he grinned, pulling out his knuckles.

He picks up speed again, but this time I dodge. I grab a chair and smash it against my enemy's back.

- Not bad, bug.

- All right, all kidding aside. Where do I find your boss?

- Are you kidding me? I'm just warming up," he gets in close and throws a standard boxing series.

Obviously, nothing lands. I duck.

- Last chance.

- Fuck you.

Right.

I grab the webbed cabinet and throw it at the Hammerhead. The bandit falls to the ground, covering himself with his arms.

I use up the remaining cartridge charges, swaddling the criminal as tightly as possible. The gangster tries to break the restraints.

- It's no use, I've taken every means to ensure that few people can tear it. Certainly not a guy with an aluminium wig on his head. Now we're gonna talk.

- Talk all you want, I'm not saying anything.

- I'll do it the hard way.

I grab the wrapped-up Hammerhead by the pecs and throw him against the wall with all my might.

- You know, this is quite an apartment. The boss must appreciate you if you can afford such a nice place.

I grab a bottle of champagne that hasn't been damaged and open it with a foamy plume.

- What a fountain! - I raise my mask to my nose and take a sip. - Not bad.

I shatter the bottle, leaving a shard in my hand.

The Hammerhead raises his head with effort. He hasn't recovered, apparently, from a decent application of his spine against the brickwork.

I jump up and put the "rose" to his face.

- So, shall we continue the fun?

- You're crazy!

- Just a little bit. Are we gonna talk?

- You can't scare me with cheap tricks like that.

- Got it. I'm throwing the shard away. And, grabbing the carcass again, I throw it into the balcony, breaking the glass doors wide open.

- Kettle, look what you've done. What if someone cuts themselves?

Carefully stepping on the floor covered with shards, I approach the bandit, whose face was already cut.

- You're really crazy.

- I am. Well, you're still gonna keep your mouth shut.

- Throw me all you want. The cops will be here in a couple of minutes, and I think they'll be very interested to see a "hero" doing this sort of thing.

Bastard! He's right. I'm out of control. And the bastard's a tough nut to crack.

- Very well, then the last thing I do is grab the Hammerhead and jump on the edge of the balcony, pulling his carcass on two arms. - We're twenty stories below us, it's a long way down.

Hmm, it's obvious that he got cold feet, but he's holding on, then move on.

Silently, under the influence of gravity, we begin to fall forward.

- Stop! - Hammerhead exclaims sharply.

I cling to the smooth concrete with one foot. Thank you, spider powers.

- I'm listening," I say in a perfectly calm voice, though my heart is pounding with adrenaline. What were the chances of screwing up?

- Think about it, kid. Do you really need this?

- Don't test my patience," I shake the thug over the precipice.

- All right, all right. Meet me in a week. At the docks. It won't just be Big Boss. That's a generous offer, kid. So, you gonna let me go?

- Well, you asked me to.

- That's not what I meant!

- Ha, don't piss yourself! I'm throwing the perp back. - The cops will be here soon, so I take out a note and stick it on a spider web to the gangster's torso. - Have a good night, Wok - I hang the criminal by the scruff of his neck from the ceiling of the flat and fly away.

***

Ten minutes later.

- Police, don't move!

Officer Casey enters the room, and before him and his partner the following action unfolds: in a completely trashed room there are a few knocked out guys lying around, and, the cherry on the cake, a girl trying to cut a strange substance with a knife, under the motherfucking comments of the man bound by the substance.

- Oliver, look, isn't that the Hammerhead?

- That's him, Jim. Ladies, please step back and put the knife down," Casey motioned to the bound criminal.

- I wonder who did this to him.

- Looks like we know the answer," Oliver Casey mumbled, showing his partner the note removed from the criminal.

- 'Best wishes, your friendly neighbour Spider-Man,' Jim Orton read. - So this is the same guy who stopped the drug deal yesterday?

- Apparently so. All right, call for backup, we'll bag the catch. Ladies, answer a few questions.

***

Whoo-hoo, wow! I don't know what came over me, but I feel like I did the right thing.

I remember all the time, philosophising and arguing about seemingly trivial superhero things.

And, of course, the main topic of discussion was, "That only by killing can you make criminals afraid of you."

Case in point, the Punisher.

Seriously, who is the criminal underworld more afraid of: Cap's cover boy? Luke Cage's tough guy? The unflappable ninja Daredevil or the joker Spidey?

No. They're scared shitless of the guy with the skull on his shirt, cos meeting him is guaranteed death.

And after today's adventure I was faced with a moral dilemma: I almost dived into the abyss, trying to get information out of the Hammerhead.

I was, in truth, ready to kill the rotter. The irritation and anger overwhelming me was just tearing me apart and demanding an outlet.

Blood.

And, as always, the humanistic pure and bright half that Uncle Ben and Aunt May and my mum and grandmother had brought up woke up.

But the spider in me still seeks to catch its victims. Which begs the question.

Will I be able to maintain my Friendly Neighbour image?

And more importantly.

Do I want to?

***

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