Peter WHY...

Chapter 11

The night was alive with the pulse of New York City, its skyscrapers glowing like beacons against the dark sky. Peter Parker, clad in his red and black suit, swung through the streets, the cool wind whipping past his face as he followed the frantic screech of tires. Below, a black sedan careened through the traffic, its taillights flashing like panicked eyes. The robbers had just hit a watch store on Fifth Avenue, their haul glinting in the back seat—luxury timepieces worth a fortune. Peter's spider-sense had tingled earlier, and now here he was, playing catch-up with a bunch of jewel thieves who clearly didn't know he was the worst kind of speed bump.

"C'mon, guys, really?" Peter muttered aloud as he launched another web line, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"A watch store? What, were the banks closed? You couldn't spring for something a little less… sparkly? I mean, I get it, timing is everything, but this is just sad!"

He swung lower, skimming the rooftops, his eyes locked on the car as it wove dangerously through the evening traffic. Horns blared, and pedestrians on the sidewalks gawked upward, their phones already out to capture the chaos. Peter grinned beneath his mask. 

At least I'm providing free entertainment, he thought. 

But as he chased, he couldn't help but grimace. Man, I really need to work on my vehicle-chasing skills. Swinging's great, but these guys are all over the place. Next time, I'm investing in a skateboard or something. Maybe a jetpack. Yeah, a jetpack would be cool.

The robbers took a sharp turn into a less crowded area, the streets narrowing as they barreled toward an industrial district. Warehouses loomed on either side, their windows dark, the streets eerily quiet save for the roar of the engine. Perfect, Peter thought, his mind racing. Less people, less collateral damage. Let's wrap this up.

With a flick of his wrists, he shot webs ahead, crisscrossing them between two buildings to create a sticky, shimmering barrier. The strands gleamed under the streetlights, a web of chaos waiting to happen. 

"Hope you guys like a good stop-and-go!" he shouted, his tone mock-cheerful. "This is why you don't skip driver's ed, folks!"

The car didn't stand a chance. At full speed, it slammed into the web barrier with a deafening crunch, the front end crumpling as the sticky strands held firm. The vehicle lurched violently, tires screeching against the asphalt, before flipping sideways in a spectacular crash of metal and glass. Sparks flew as it skidded, the sound echoing through the empty street like a thunderstorm.

Before the car could slide into a nearby warehouse or cause more damage, Peter reacted instantly. He swung down, firing more webs in rapid succession, wrapping them around the undercarriage and slowing its momentum. The car groaned and shuddered, coming to a halt just inches from a stack of rusted barrels. 

"Whew, that was close!" Peter quipped, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Note to self: webs are awesome, but maybe add a 'slow down gently' feature next time. Or a parachute. Parachutes are underrated."

He landed lightly on the pavement, assessing the damage. The car lay on its side, its doors sealed shut by the thick webs he'd shot moments ago. Inside, he could hear the muffled shouts of the robbers, their panic palpable. "Stay put, fellas!" he called, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You've got front-row seats to the 'Wait for the Cops' show. Spoiler: it's not a short one!"

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the scene, drawn by the noise. Their reactions were a mix of awe and disbelief. A teenage boy with a skateboard gaped, his jaw dropping. "Dude, did you see that? That guy just stopped a car with, like, spider stuff!"

A middle-aged woman clutching her purse nodded vigorously. "Incredible! He's like a guardian angel—or a spider angel, I guess." Others whispered and snapped photos, their phones flashing in the dim light. A man in a baseball cap shouted, "Yo, Spider-Man, you're the real deal!" The crowd's excitement grew, some cheering, others murmuring in fear or wonder.

Peter waved briefly, striking a theatrical pose. "Thank you, thank you! No autographs, please—I'm on a tight schedule. Also, maybe don't stand too close; this thing might still blow!" He turned back to the car, ensuring the webs held. The robbers were still trapped, banging futilely against the webbed doors. Good luck with that, he thought. Those webs are stronger than your life choices.

He waited, tapping his foot impatiently as the minutes ticked by. Where are the cops when you need them? he grumbled internally. 

I swear, New York's finest take longer than a sloth on a coffee break. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only fifteen minutes, the wail of sirens pierced the night. Red and blue lights flashed as two police cars screeched to a halt, officers spilling out with guns drawn.

"Looks like my cue to exit, stage left!" Peter muttered, shooting a web line to the nearest rooftop. He swung away before the officers could spot him, the crowd's cheers fading into the distance. As he disappeared into the night, he couldn't help but smirk. 

Another night, another win. Now, if only I could figure out how to chase cars without turning it into a circus act…, Peter thought to himself.