problematic solutions

just your friendly neighborhood spider-man

Stark Industries was what Peter decided New York revolved around. If it weren't for the tall, glass skyscraper placed in the center of Manhattan, the city would probably teeter off its axis. It seemed like everything always came back to that tower.

At least, for Peter Parker, his life revolved around it. Not because he goes inside, or anything; that's just one of those dreams you have as a kid, but then you grow up and realize it was just that, a dream. He only works a few blocks away, too, at a coffee shop, and lives, you know, around. Peter just finds himself drawn to the tower and its large, arching, bright blue 'A' mounted on the side of the building.

The Avengers.

stupid dreams, he thought, bitter, perched on the roof of a nearby building.

Peter's legs dangled from the edge, the evening breeze brushing through his hair as the orange hue of the setting sun streaked over the horizon. He was wearing his home-made Spider-man suit; a red sweatshirt he found in a dumpster, a spider sticker glued to the chest, and the hood of the sweatshirt that he cut holes in and made a mask out of. He decided anonymity was crucial if he were going to be a 'Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man'.

It's a long story, but, long story short, he was bit by a radioactive spider, or something, that escaped from some lab. Peter's not really sure where it came from, specifically, but he could take some sort of educated guess. It was a few months back, when he was sleeping in the alleyway behind the coffee shop he works at. He just remembers something stinging his neck, so he slapped it, and saw the carcass of some unnaturally colored spider.

He remembers not thinking much of it and just going back to sleep. But, when he woke up, his life changed. Like, drastically. He could literally climb walls and hear shit he couldn't before.

But, now, he's a vigilante. Life works in mysterious ways, he decided.

Then, one night, he was sitting on a building, staring at Stark Industries, cursing himself for his child-like dreams. Because, Peter didn't have time for stuff like that. He had work to do; both as Peter Parker and Spider-man. He couldn't waste another second dwelling on a dream that could never be; will never be.

Peter huffed, shaking away his thoughts, pushing himself to his feet. He shot a web from his wrist, swinging through the air, over the busy streets of Manhattan. Car lights flickered and horns honked as he shot another web, keeping his eyes peeled for anything a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man could help with. His heightened senses were good for that; he could sniff out a burglary a mile away.

"Help!"

Instantly, Peter's ears piqued. He dropped himself to the sidewalk, carefully shoving past people in a hurry while muttering a few 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's'. He got a few looks, but just apologized in fear that he might've been an inconvenience.

"Somebody! Help!"

Peter rushed down the sidewalk before deciding swinging might be faster. He shot a web onto a building across the street, swinging to it before launching another one. And he made his way towards the voice, suddenly finding himself in front of Stark Industries towers.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" He muttered to himself, sarcastically, as he perched on a neighboring building. His senses were going crazy, his eyes dancing through the streets rapidly.

"Please help!"

And he spotted it; a woman being held at gun point, right outside the tower. He wondered how that could even happen.

Peter didn't have time to dwell, though. He launched himself from the roof, swinging over to the perpetrator and the perpetrated. He landed between them, the woman pushed up against a wall.

"Woah, woah." Peter rushed, holding hands out to the man dressed in all black, holding a bag, pointing a gun at him. "What's with the gun, man?"

The man shook the gun in his direction, face obscured by a hood. "Who the hell are you?" He ignored the question.

"Me?" Peter gestured towards himself. "Oh. Well, I'm Spider-man. Nice to meet you." He stuck out a hand for a shake.

The man didn't say anything. He just stood there, gun still pointed directly at Peter.

Peter sighed. "Did nobody teach you manners?"

Then, he shot a web. He snatched the gun out of the guy's hand, landing in his own. But, he just chucked it at a concrete wall, watching it shatter; oh yeah, his super strength.

There was a stretch of silence that Peter spent staring at the man, behind his mask. Because he was sorta just staring at Peter too, maybe contemplating something; he still couldn't see his face.

"That was expensive!" The man suddenly shrieked, before lunging at him, arms swinging.

Peter instantly jumped out of the way, his reflexes, impeccable. The man stumbled over himself, not prepared for Peter's dodge. He rightened himself, spinning to look at him.

Peter caught the eye of the woman, still pressed against the wall. Silently, with his head, Peter signaled for her to run; anywhere, really. Just away. And, again, he promised, with the holes in his mask, to get her bag back. The woman nodded, before running down a nearby alleyway.

His neck tingled, and Peter dodged right. The man was blinded by something Peter didn't quite understand, but had to deal with anyway. He blinked, dodging another pathetic right hook.

"Who taught you how to fight?" He snorted, catching the man's fist mid punch. He twisted it.

The man cried out in pain, a pathetic apology spilling from Peter's lips. Then, the guy dropped the bag, reaching for his throbbing wrist. Peter took the opportunity and shot a few webs, pinning him to the wall. He still hung his head, face covered by the dark hood and inconvenient cloak of night.

"Sorry." Peter winced, picking up the blue bag the man had dropped. "I didn't want to hurt you. But, you know..." He tilted his head, gesturing towards the bag in his hands. "...you were doing something not-so-good."

The man struggled against the strong grip of his webs, breathing out, "You're a vigilante, huh, Spider-man?"

Peter paused, wondering what that had to do with anything. And there was something about the voice that set off some alarms in his head. Not in a comforting way, though. But, in a strange, consuming sort of way; as if telling him something was different. Because the way he asked the question sounded almost hopeful; calculated. Peter did not like it.

"Uh..." He reached up, scratching the back of his neck. "I-I'm sorry. I just- I don't- what do you mean?"

The man sighed, as if Peter were annoying him. He guesses being stuck to a wall by some strange spider web stuff was annoying, but, he still didn't get why this guy was even talking to him. Why did he even give a shit? And why did he sound bored?

"You're a vigilante." The hooded guy said, with more finality this time. "Do you know what that means?"

Peter blinked.

"I- I- I don't-" He stammered, confused. "Look, I really gotta go. You're not gonna go anywhere, though, because the police are coming. But, I'm gonna... leave. So, uh... nice talk! Let's never do it again!"

Peter didn't wait for a response. He just shot a web, swinging through the alley the woman had ran down.

But, as he landed in the alley, he found nothing. He ran through to the other side, still finding no trace of the woman. He wondered if maybe his secret message didn't get across.

Peter thought for a second before he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a pad and pen he always keeps on him. He set the purse down against the wall in the alley, scribbling on the piece of paper before placing it on the purse.

The note read: DO NOT TOUCH unless it's yours. (i didn't take anything i promise!) -Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man

Peter swung through the other side of the alley, back out into the city.