Peter's Journal

I'm Coming For You

Like any night in New York, the people are busy walking home, to the bar, store, or just over to a friend's house.

Meanwhile, I'm potentially risking my life (again) snooping around warehouses that are supposed gang hideouts. According to police reports (don't ask me where I got the information), there has been an increase of narcotics circulating the area, and it's been linked to multiple deaths of teenagers. Daredevil and I have been on it but really haven't found much. These guys really know how to cover their ass from anyone they don't want to find them.

NYPD is also having a difficult time apprehending any suspects that could have a lead on this. Reports indicate that these guys are heavily armed. Rocket launchers, semi automatic weapons, grenades, high tech Oscorp gadgets... You get the idea.

Luckily, I have tricks of my own too.

As I investigate the warehouse, I notice scrapes on the ground. They're curving outward no more than 135 degrees.

These large containers must be where they store their armory. If I could pry open these doors-

Spider-Sense.

"Who's in here?" A voice shouts. "Hey, Bruno, there's something over there..."

A sudden loud THWIP! followed by a SLAM! is heard near the entrance of the warehouse.

I resist the urge to burst into laughter at what just happened as I climb on the ceiling.

I'm loving the web mine.

I spot the victim glued to the wall in webbing. "Man, you guys always fall for that gimmick," I chuckle. "Where's your other friend?"

Off in the distance I hear, "Ah shit." Then, a loud WHUMP! is heard.

"I'll start with you, then. Who do you work for?"

"I ain't tellin' ya jack, bug!" He responds in defiance.

"Alright, first of all, a spider is an arachnid. That means the logo has eight legs. Not six," I correct. "Man, I can't believe someone hired morons like you."

"Hey! He pays us top dollar cause that's what we're worth."

"Top dollar? So this figure has quite the money. Or I should say, he has quite the amount of money. So much for not telling me anything."

The thug stays quiet. Pretty sure he just realized he screwed up.

Behind me, I hear feet pattering towards the exit. "SPIDER-MAN'S HERE. WE NEED BACK UP-"

THWIP!

Upon sticking him to the ceiling, a phone smacks onto the ground. Through the cracked screen, I can see an active phone call. The contact read, "Boss". I connect the call to my headset and ask, "This is your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. With whom am I speaking?"

A deep voice responds, "Ah, the wall crawler. I knew you'd interfere."

"Stop this now, and I won't come after you," I threaten.

"And leave the city as it is? Full of disgusting criminals like you? I work to make the city better."

"By distributing drugs around the neighborhood? Getting it sold to kids?"

"A man has to make the hardest decisions for the betterment of a situation-"

My head starts ringing loudly.