Peter's unbeatable plan to survive New York City. (hacked a billionaire, help)

I love stealing, I love taking things!

Some of you might know Hydra Bob from the Deadpool comics. Well there is this one panel of him floating around where he is all like: Man, I only joined Hydra because my wife asked me to find a job with decent Health inscurance!

and well, thats pretty funny! So this is where this fic origins from, as well as the various villain!Iron Man / Tony Stark identity porn fanfics out there :D

(Here is the image btw:) https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/comicadventures/images/0/04/Bob.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140727002230

There are three exact ways which have helped Peter survive this damn city for so long. It wasn't like he hated New York, it was his home and if anything he felt protective over it but the city did get.. exhausting so to say from time to time.

Which brings us to the first: Don't ignore the Spidey-sense.
Peter was walking down the alley that served as a shortcut past Eva's home for young women to the big junkyard when he felt a slight tingling sensation nagging at his head. Nowadays it wasn't too weird for his senses to go off, he was used to it, and since he'd been living in the streets every little thing seemed to be a trigger for them to go off. So Peter ignored the buzzing and continued onwards.

Just as he neared the end of the narrow passageway, a group of shady figures emerged from the shadows, blocking his path. It was a classic setup really—dimly lit alley, isolated surroundings, and a sense of impending danger. Peter would have laughed if he hadn't been running on two hours of sleep on a moist mattress.

"Hey, kid, this is our curb. Get the hell outta here!" sneered one of the figures, a greasy-haired man with a sinister grin.

Well here goes the second rule of survival: Avoid the dark alley from Eva's to the junkyard. It's someone's curb! Show some respect Peter.

He shot a quick glance at the group blocking his path, sizing them up. Three of them, all looking like they had spent more time in the shadows than under city lights. Their leader, being greasy-hair, had taken on a more broad stance.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. Just trying to get through," Peter replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. He took a step back, considering his options. The narrow alley limited his mobility, but his agility could give him an edge if things turned sour.
One of Greasy's friends responded. "Trouble? Nah, we're just having a friendly chat, ain't we, boys?" he said, elbowing the other one.

Peter felt a surge of frustration. What was it with New York's criminals that made them even more insufferable when they began talking? His line of thought must have shown on his face because suddenly Greasy and his little boy band took a few steps forward. Peter's senses were now practically screaming as the group closed in on him. Gripping the strap of his backpack, he swung it around, creating a makeshift barrier between himself and the advancing figures.

"Look, I really don't want any trouble," Peter reiterated, his voice steady but edged with a hint of a warning. He scanned the alley once again, searching for any kind of potential escape routes all while the air grew heavy with tension. Greasy-hair chuckled, a sound that made Peter want to roll his eyes. "Trouble finds those who look for it, kid."

What? What the fuck does that even mea-

Greasy lunged at Peter, aiming a wild swing at his head. Peter ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he tried to maintain control of the situation, of his own strength. He really didn't want to accidentally kill some guy just because he was hungry and severely sleep deprived.
In a swift move, Peter retaliated with a well-aimed kick, connecting with Greasy's midsection. He stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. It was a brief window of opportunity that Peter decided to grab as fast as possible.