Spider-Man: A New Spiral

Dinner was quite friendly and fun.

At least my worries about the "fake" photos evaporated.

After all, I'm not forcing Jameson to buy them.

After accepting my relatives' congratulations on my first salary, which brought back memories, I told them I was going for a walk and would be back late, so I didn't have to wait.

I am still surprised that Ben and May trust their nephew, that is me, so much that they let me go wherever I go, for however long. Once again I can only thank myself before the "merger". After all, that Pete was a responsible young man, though withdrawn and aloof with everyone except his family, but that's in the past.

Going down to the basement before today's operation, I prepare to put on my uniform.

The suit is there, web shooters are there, cartridges and other equipment are there. Putting on the mask, I fly out of the basement like from the torpedo compartment of a submarine, and vigorously catching on the nearest roof, fly to the city centre.

Just like the Hammerhead said, there's a boss meeting at the docks today. I've been preparing all week.

I've been checking equipment, preparing a stock of spider webs, doing extra training on abandoned sites and evening overflights.

I even washed my suit.

So here I am, all dressed up, getting ready for the big time.

Gangster says there's a business meeting between the two bosses, and by New York standards, it'll be like a Third World dictator's army. I'm not kidding. At such negotiations, they prefer to play with muscle, so they'll be seriously staffed.

Having flown to the necessary warehouse in about twenty minutes, I sat down in an ambush and gave myself up to thinking.

I should probably mount the camera on the ceiling, so I'd have a better view of what was going on. I wondered, if I filmed myself beating the crap out of criminals, would Jonah still call me a threat? I don't know what I'm talking about.

Of course he would.

My thoughts were brought to an end by the sudden roar of engines. There were at least twenty cars heading toward the warehouse.

Seriously.

Clinging to the nearest pole, I swung over to the roof of the warehouse.

Interesting. The outside windows are up and there's no security. Okay, what if....

I close my eyes and try to concentrate on feeling my spider sense. And bingo! I sense danger.

So it's a trap and they're waiting for me.

The only question is, will I be scared?

There are so many gangsters out there, plus the leaders, catching them could cause quite a stir in New York's feverish underworld and it would weaken the gangs. So we need to act now.

Setting up my new camera, I hung it on the visor under the roof. Hooking it onto a jamb began to descend headfirst into the warehouse. The lights were very dimmed.

Suddenly all the lights in the room came on and it seemed that from every box began to come out bandits trying to take poor Spidey at gunpoint.

- Hello lad, we've been waiting for you, - said a man in a cowboy hat and with a.... electric lasso?

***

A few kilometres away from the warehouse where Peter is located.

Meeting in a new place, and so forced surprised Wilson Fisk, but as always, Kingpin showed no emotion on his face, especially in front of his partner/competitor Lincoln Thompson, aka Big Boss, aka, for the more knowledgeable, Tombstone.

In fact, "Big Boss" is a nickname Lincoln has bestowed upon himself in an effort to distance himself from his past as the chief executioner of Silvio Manfredi, for whom he worked for many years and whom he is rumoured to have sent to prison to take his place in the Southwest Territories of New York.

- Mr Fisk, it's good to see you," Tombstone greeted his colleague calmly and quite neutrally.

- So am I, Mr. Thompson, though I feel a little fatigued by the sudden change of route," said Ambal, also quite benignly, but with a definite sense of meaning.

- I understand your confusion, Wilson. You see, you may have already been informed of the problem for which we have called this meeting.

- The goods in our warehouses were lost and taken away by the police because your men were incompetent and failed to provide adequate security.

Only the clenched fingers gave away the Big Boss's true attitude.

- It was because of THOSE who were responsible that the meeting place was changed.

- Ah yes, New York's new "night vigilante". I originally thought it was my old adversary Daredevil, but it's someone new and more dangerous since, according to Wesley, he was able to take out Shocker and the rest of the soldiers so quickly. In the light.

- Exactly. As you can see, my friend Joseph Lorenzini," Tombstone pointed to the Hammerhead on his right, "has been released from custody. I had to pay a lot of money for it. But he shared some interesting information with our new friend.

- So why is Mr Blabbermouth still on your right side and not in concrete shoes at the bottom of the Hudson River? - Fisk inquired casually.

Sledgehammer flinched slightly.

- To tell you the truth, I thought about it. But only two factors stopped me from doing so. Firstly, Hammerhead was loyal to me and served me faithfully for many years. After all, who wouldn't stumble when he was being dangled twenty stories high by a man punching concrete with his hands?

- And secondly?

- And secondly, there are benefits to be learnt from situations like this. As we speak, Wilson, there's a squad of extremely dangerous mercenaries waiting at our vigilante's old location. So you could say problem solved.

- Very clever, Mr Lincoln, I'm impressed.

- Thank you. Shall we discuss business?

***

Dock area. Peter Parker/Spider-Man.

Okay, now this is interesting.

- Um, sorry, guys, I may have the wrong warehouse. Isn't this where the New York crime bosses meet? Cause, no offence, but you don't look much alike.

Cowboy jumped off the crate.

On his right side, a more stubby, but seemingly fast guy did the same thing. To his left, a big, pumped-up, three-metre tall man jumped down, kicking up dust.

- You got it right, boy, but alas, it's just us," the cowboy confirmed my fears by spitting a toothpick.

- So who are you and your partners? Cool moustache, by the way," I said to the big guy, after the guy in the hat.

- A lot of people know us as the Thunderbirds. I'm Montana, this is handsome Dan, and on the left is Bull. Sorry, kid, but you pissed off some very powerful people, so they sent us.

- And this army around me?

- A little investment from our employer to make the operation more successful.

Oh, wow. And that criminal whose supply I turned off is clearly biting into me, because it looks like the entire population of China is here.

- I shrug my shoulders and jump up sharply, firing a web at the nearest bandit.

Having unravelled the loser, I launch him into the nearest crowd of sixes. There really are a lot of them here.

- Shoot the bastard," shouts the bandit, whom I deftly send to sleep.

At once there is a dense firing, from which I manage to dodge only thanks to my inhuman reflexes.

Another dodge is interrupted by a sudden blow to the side, which crashes me into the crates.

The projectile that interrupted my pirouettes was Handsome Dan.

Someone tried to grab my leg, but my instincts kicked in just in time. I jump back, ending up on the wall. It was Bull.

Montana, out in the centre of the room like the star of this warehouse saloon.

- Boy, you only got two choices, surrender or run. Thugs always get the job done.

- Sorry, cowboy, but it looks like this is the first time you're gonna have to give your money back.

I'm making my trademark jokes, dodging a hail of bullets in the process.

All right, spider-head, you got it, and you got it good. Now think.

I'm in a huge warehouse, there are countless mercenaries around, and I've knocked out four so far. Plus three Generals, guys with experience and stamina.

Thugs. I know exactly who they are, but the thing is that I remember them as "comical gangsters", not serious and, more importantly, dangerous mercenaries.

The musings were interrupted again by an explosion and the spider sense signalling.

Are those grenades?!

It looked like the guys were serious about leaving me in this warehouse.

Grabbing a bunch of grenades in a web, I launch them into the wall behind a small group of mercenaries. They scatter and duck, some I manage to pin to the floor, others I clash with.

The privates aren't dangerous. They may be mercenaries, but they're still green. What makes them relatively safe for me, though, is the fact that I can crush the limbs of each of them into dust with my bare hands and dodge a point-blank shot.

A normal person would have a much harder time.

Idiot, don't get distracted during a fight. Knocking out a guy who still managed to stab me in the shin.

The vein looks intact. Pulling the knife out, making an elastic bandage out of spider webs.

Another bandit squad arrives at this point immediately.

No rest.

I shoot spiderweb clots, some of them blindfolding their eyes, limiting their visibility, some of them all over their faces. I knocked some of them out of their weapons and engaged them in hand-to-hand combat.

After twenty minutes of fighting, for the first time since I got my abilities, I stopped holding back the force of my blows in a fight with living opponents.

Things went faster.

Every blow I threw meant an automatic break for any enemy. A straight punch to the shoulder, a fracture. A kick to the knee, a very bad fracture. And so it went on and on.

But they still wouldn't end, and the persistence of some of the representatives was starting to get naturally frightening.

I was also becoming more vulnerable. After the first stabbing in the shin, went a blow with a fist in the face or a foot in the stomach.

The fatigue was showing, but the adrenaline was still kicking in.

I've already killed forty men, when will they run out?!

Suddenly it's like I've been shocked.

- Aaah! It hurts like hell.

- You're just prolonging the agony, mate. But I have to admit, knocking out half the powers we arrived with is respectable.

Electric whip. You're gonna pay for this, Montana.

I bounce back, trying to snatch the weapon, but the cowboy cuts the web in flight. Level-headed reflexes.

Spider sense.

I can barely change my trajectory in time to avoid bumping into Dan.

Unfortunately, there's a Bull waiting elsewhere.

I bend at an unthinkable angle and kick him in the jaw.

When I land, I feel a terrible pain in my ankle.

I've twisted it, damn it.

The thugs are organised and understand each other without words, fast and experienced, and their sixes don't run out, no matter what Montana says.

- Spidey, look at you, all bruised up. Your pyjamas are torn and you look like you're about to fall over. When we're not even sweating.

- Then let's fix it.

I close in sharply on the hat and try to land a punch to the jaw, completely undeterred. Only at the end does it occur to me that a normal person wouldn't survive such a blow to the head.

However, Montana dodged it and I hit the whip, breaking it.

- Oh, too bad, that was a nice toy. But as my daddy used to say before he left the family-"Always have a backup, son"-the cowboy pulled a regular lasso out of his bag.

It was getting easier.

Handsome Dan attacked from the right. The bastard's very agile, probably a former gymnast, so it's parity with him, I don't dodge hard, he prefers to dodge as well.

Apparently really can get to me at all, only rat-attacking when I'm distracted.

The dance with the handsome man was interrupted by the launching of a heavy crate by Bull.

Now that's a target I like already. Huge and clumsy. If this were a one-on-one fight, it would be a great pleasure for me to smash the idiot's face in.

But alas, I'm dealing with a close-knit group, used to being crushed by numbers and individual skills.

Again the rope whistled nearby.

How quickly the tide has turned. Now it's no longer an interesting battle against superior enemy forces. I'm really starting to worry, and heroic valour is turning into a survival instinct.

I'm not going to die in this damn warehouse!

I grab Montana's lasso and pull it towards me with all my might. With a scream, the cowboy lands beside me.

Without letting the bandit recover, I grab his arm and kick him in the crease of his elbow.

- AAAAAAAAAAAAAA - in splinters.

Minus one.

Having lost a comrade, Dan and Bull's actions became more cohesive.

Occasional attacks from the gymnast, punctuated by serious attempts at damage from the Bull.

But I've had enough. If I don't do it now, it's over.

I started with Dan.

During his jump attack, I shoot the net that's encasing our handsome boy. I'll finish after I've dealt with Bull.

I decided to take Hardy out of the game with the old grandfather's method - total massacre of his carcass.

Having stopped holding back long ago, I strike blow after blow. To be honest, I'm shocked how a normal person can be alive after these blows.

Maybe he's a latent mutant or was he bitten by a radioactive Bull?

In the end, I look at what happened, the Bull is knocked out, his body turned into a chop, there is no living place, but he seems to be breathing. I didn't hurt him any worse than the bruises. It's not bad, but it's fucking weird.

I'm looking at the glove scraps. There's blood all over his hands.

Okay, I can't get distracted.

I turn to Dan, who's just starting to cut the cobwebs with his knife.

Where'd he put it?

- Let me help you," I walk over and tear the web ties.

The gangster immediately tries to come at me with a knife, but I grab his arm sharply and twist it away.

With a groan of pain from the gangster, the weapon falls to the ground.

- You know, your choppers caused trouble, so you'll rest in the hospital.

I grab both of my opponent's arms and squeeze sharply, organising at least a dozen cracks in the bones.

Dan starts yelling sharply.

Only I'm not done with you yet.

Letting go of my hands, the perp's carcass drops sharply to the ground and tries to crawl away. Slowly I walk over and lift the gangster by his leg, one handed.

It's funny, he's a grown man, but he's half a head shorter than me.

He tries to strike with his other leg, which must look quite comical, but I intercept him and twist his shin. Pulling back my fist, I punch hard, shattering the bandit's knee.

There's no point in describing the screams of pain.

At the end of this natural atrocity, I take the other leg, with the damaged shin and bend it at ninety degrees. In reverse, a position where the leg can't bend.

Sorry, horsey, but you're not going to be jumping anytime soon.

Spider Sense.

- Shoot that sick son of a bitch! - Montana seems to have woken up.

Armed mercenaries appeared on all sides at once. Probably waiting for the bosses to do all the work. Or waiting for me to run out of steam.

Before the fire starts, I head for the nearest group of enemies with my last strength. I knock one out, knocking out his jaw. The second and third, I web them, knocking their heads against each other. Possible concussion.

I break the fourth one's knee and I hear it right away:

- Fire!

Shit! There's too many of them, I can't dodge, my ankle's hurt, I can't--

Before the claps are unleashed, the body starts to act faster than the mind.

Grabbing the nearest lying mercenary, I begin to cover myself with him from the line of fire.

Moving in a radius with the crowd I jump behind the container, but at the last second, several bullets hit me.

My left shin is on fire, the projectile went aslant here, in my right shoulder the bullet went through and through, probably damaged an artery. But the only thing I can think about now is the riddled man who died completely because of my choices.

The mercenaries are getting closer.

- Go after him! - Montana yells at the top of her voice.

With all my remaining strength, I cling to the ceiling and pull myself up to the roof. The last thing I think of before I start to collapse is the camera I grabbed on instinct.

***

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