He began putting himself in Colleen’s shoes.
Her goal was to train the students, so she wouldn’t go too far.
She needed a wide, easily visible location—something that would prevent the students from hiding and ambushing her.
So a park, most likely Central Park.
It wasn’t far from Chinatown, and she had plenty of time to get there.
But where in Central Park?
She needed a space that offered both cover and room to fight, while avoiding interference from unwitting passersby.
Peter pulled out his phone, opened the map, and scrolled through until he finally locked onto a perfect spot.
He waved to his teammates.
“Let’s go.
I know where Colleen is.” Aji’s eyes widened on the spot.
“How do you know?” Peter merely smiled and dropped two words: “I guessed.” Coaxing and dragging the group along, he led them toward the southwest entrance of Central Park.
The area had the fewest people and plenty of open space, perfectly matching his prediction.
Within minutes, sure enough, they spotted Colleen near a fountain.
She was leisurely munching on an ice cream cone, entirely oblivious to the nest of students hiding behind the trees.
Marcus immediately laid out their tactics: Aji and Brandon would charge in from the front to draw her attention, while he and Peter snuck around back to snatch the sword.
Once they had it, Marcus would run ahead to the dojo with the weapon.
Before the words were even out of his mouth, Peter scoffed aloud, giving him zero face.
“That plan is stupid as hell.” Marcus frowned, clearly wanting to pull seniority.
Peter sneered inwardly.
Pulling rank on Peter Parker?
Who do you think you are?
He pointed at the open grounds.
“There’s not a single piece of cover here.
Colleen chose this spot precisely to prevent ambushes.
The moment you show your faces, she’ll spot you half a mile away.
You’re literally just throwing yourselves at her.” He offered his own strategy: either wait for her to move to a new spot, or actively create a distraction to draw her attention—and the bystanders’—completely away before striking.
Brandon shook his head repeatedly, thinking Peter’s idea was too convoluted, and insisted on following Marcus’s plan.
Aji nodded in agreement.
Peter’s gaze turned cold, and he washed his hands of it on the spot.
“Fine.
Good luck, then.
I’m going solo.” Marcus lowered his voice, panicking slightly.
“This is team training!” “If the plan is stupid, talking about teamwork is just losing together,” Peter countered, refusing to budge an inch.
“We have to distract her first.” Marcus sighed, acting as if he couldn’t be bothered to argue further.
“If you don’t want in, then stay out.” The other two didn’t waste words either and moved into position.
Watching the three of them march off full of confidence, Peter quietly began a mental countdown.
Six minutes later.
Colleen walked away from the fountain with a smile, followed by three limping unfortunates.
As she walked, she scolded them, “Did you seriously just charge in head-on?
Use your heads!
Distract me first before making your move, got it?” Rubbing his sore shoulder, Marcus slouched and muttered, “Actually…
Peter said earlier that the plan wouldn’t work.
We should’ve listened to him.” Colleen paused, caught off guard.
“Peter?
He didn’t rush in with you?” Aji sighed.
“He said the plan was too stupid and refused to join in…
Looking back, he was dead right.” Colleen looked thoughtful.
Crossing a small bridge, she muttered to herself that she’d have to have a proper chat with that kid later.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a dark shadow swooped down from beneath the bridge.
Peter landed in front of Colleen like a phantom.
Before she could react, his left hand grabbed the strap of the katana, and his right foot kicked her squarely in the abdomen.
Colleen flew backward through the air.
Taking advantage of her momentum, Peter yanked the strap off over her head, claiming the sword.
He turned to the three stunned kids and winked.
“Thanks, guys.
As bait, you three get an A-plus.” With that, he turned and bolted, without a second’s hesitation.
Marcus’s mouth hung open in an O.
It took him a long moment before he blurted out, “So cool…” Colleen scrambled up from the ground, clutching her stomach with a grimace.
Seeing Peter running off with her sword on his shoulder, she roared, “Stop right there!” and took off in hot pursuit.
Marcus and the others snapped out of it and rushed forward to intercept her, but how could their skill level hold her back?
Colleen shook them off in a few swift moves and locked onto Peter, refusing to let go.
Peter grinned as he looked back while running—*now* this was real training; everything before had just been playing house.
Sprinting out of the park, he didn’t even wait for the traffic lights, darting straight through oncoming cars.
The shouts and curses of pedestrians behind him were swept away by the wind.
Turning into an alley, he spotted a fire escape on the wall, kicked off the ground, and vaulted straight onto the roof.
The ground chase instantly escalated into a full-blown rooftop parkour battle.
Just as he landed on a building’s roof, Colleen and her students burst into the alley.
The group looked up, completely dumbfounded as they watched Peter leap and bound effortlessly between buildings.
Colleen shouted from below for him to come down, but Peter laughed and shouted back, “If you’ve got the guts, come up and take it yourself!” The chase went on for a full hour.
Peter finally landed on the roof of the building housing the dojo, slid down the wall, and flopped onto the curb, gasping for air.
Even with his spider physiology, a solid hour of running and leaping was pushing him near his limit.
Ten minutes later, Colleen arrived with the rest of the exhausted group, all out of breath.
Peter stood up, raised the katana in his hand, and gave them a delightfully smug smile.
“GG.
I win.” Colleen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and waved her hand.
“Fine, you win…
Just let me catch my breath first.” The others collapsed onto the steps, unable to even lift a finger to point at him.
Panting heavily, Marcus choked out, “Next time…
next time, we do whatever you say.” Peter nodded with a smile; the matter was settled.
Colleen rubbed her stomach and grumbled, “Kid, your kick hits like a damn mule.
You nearly knocked my lunch right out of me.” Peter scratched his head, feeling a bit sheepish.
“Sorry, sorry!
Didn’t pull my strength enough, went a little overboard.” Once all the students had gathered, Colleen publicly announced that Peter’s team had won and asked him to share his thought process with everyone.
Brandon confessed right away that it was all Peter’s doing.
Aji chimed in, adding that not only had Peter found the exact location, but he had also predicted their initial plan would fail.
Peter shrugged and briefly explained how he had reverse-engineered her location based on Colleen’s goals.
The students’ eyes lit up as they listened, filled with admiration.
As a reward, Colleen bought everyone Cokes.
They sat on the curb, sipping their drinks and chatting.
Peter quickly hit it off with Marcus, Aji, and Brandon.
It turned out making friends wasn’t so hard; the original Peter’s reputation at school had just been so awful that people had always viewed him through a biased lens.
Marcus brought up chemistry and complained about his terrible grades.
Peter offered to tutor him, and Marcus was deeply grateful.
The two discovered they both lived in Queens, though Marcus’s neighborhood was much poorer.
After class, they took the train home together.
Marcus guided Peter through his neighborhood.
The streets here were dilapidated, heavy with an air of decay.
Peter offered no judgment, quietly listening as Marcus vented about his schoolwork.
Suddenly, a shout echoed ahead, followed immediately by gunshots.
Marcus grabbed Peter and yanked him into a nearby alley.
He told Peter to stay hidden while he poked his head out to observe.
Five gang members dressed in green were waving guns and chasing another man down the street.
They fired as they ran, though the bullets were clearly meant to intimidate rather than kill.
Peter lowered his voice and asked what was going on.
Marcus shushed him and pointed at the men, explaining that they were the Grass Stain Gang, the local street rulers.
They terrorized everyone, the cops couldn’t do a thing about them, and half the kids at school had gotten hooked on drugs because of them.
Peter narrowed his eyes.
It seemed he had found his first target.
Once the street quieted down, Marcus brought Peter back to his apartment.
It was a run-down, dirty little place, but Peter didn’t care in the slightest.
They spent the day reviewing chemistry.
During breaks, Peter subtly fished for information about the Grass Stain Gang.
The gang operated out of a strip club, dealing drugs, loan sharking, extorting locals, and even engaging in gang wars.
Peter knew he was going to have his hands full.
When he got home, he began investigating the club.
The original Peter wasn’t a hacker, but he had a basic grasp of computers.
Peter made a mental note to learn hacking later; it was an indispensable skill.
The boss of the Grass Stain Gang was named Razor, a tall, violent scoundrel.
He was the prime suspect in four murders over the past year, known for his cruelty.
But he had a fatal weakness: he was lustful and a total piece of scum.
Peter had to take this gang down.
Too many people had suffered because of them.
To destroy a gang, it wasn’t enough to just defeat them in battle; he had to crush their reputation so they could never bounce back.
He spent the rest of the weekend upgrading his web-shooters and designing a new suit.
He really didn’t want to wear a spandex suit; as cool as it looked, the feeling of it clinging to his skin was downright gross.
On Monday night, after returning home from Colleen’s class, Peter finished dinner at seven and pretended to go to bed.
At eleven, after making sure Uncle Ben and Aunt May were fast asleep, he put on dark clothes, donned a ski mask, and slipped out of the house.
Equipped with his newly modified web-shooters, he headed toward the slummy area of Queens.
Marcus’s place was only a few blocks away.
Peter climbed onto the roof of the Grass Stain Gang’s club, found a ventilation duct, and crawled inside.
Crawling through a narrow, filthy duct was nothing like in the movies.
The music downstairs was deafening, and the strippers’ stage names were tacky beyond words.
He crawled above a windowless room in the heart of the club and peered down through the louvers.
A few people clad only in underwear were packaging cocaine, guarded by men carrying submachine guns.
Sure enough, this was their drug distribution hub.
He continued crawling until he reached a lounge.
A few thugs dressed in green were smoking weed, while a tall man sat on the couch with a gun resting across his lap.
It was Razor.
Peter held his breath and listened in on their conversation.
Razor was cursing up a storm, complaining that Cottonmouth was getting way too arrogant lately.
“Those two cousins need to take a piss and look at their own reflections.
Who the hell do they think they are, trying to run redevelopment in Harlem?” His lackeys eagerly chimed in with agreement.
One minion suddenly brought up the big battle in Harlem, claiming he had seen the Hulk with his own eyes.
Another added that there was also a ruthless gray-skinned guy, and the two of them teamed up to take down a military helicopter before going at each other’s throats.
A third grunt chimed in with even more excitement, saying a small guy had suddenly popped out of nowhere, knocked out the big giant in five seconds, and saved everyone on the scene.
Razor instantly grew interested.
The minions described the scene vividly, saying the kid had choked the guy’s neck with sticky ropes and then stood on the body laughing hysterically like a total lunatic.
Inside the air duct, Peter rolled his eyes dramatically.
*Who laughed hysterically?
Who was a lunatic?
At most, I was just celebrating internally!
These rumors are getting ridiculous.* After chatting a bit more, Razor stood up and urged his men to hurry up with the packing, saying the Mexican buyer would be arriving tonight.
Once they turned off the lights and left, Peter backed out quickly and shadowed them to the packaging room.
Razor yelled and rushed the work, and once the final crate was sealed, the whole gang descended the stairs in a massive group.
Peter climbed back onto the roof and inhaled a deep breath of cold night air.
He ran to the edge and looked down just in time to see a large van parked in the back alley.
Razor and his men loaded the shipment onto the vehicle, hit the gas, and sped off into the night.
Taking a short run-up, Peter leaped off the tall building.
He clicked his triggers, and a web line stuck securely to the opposite building, swinging his body in a grand arc through the air.
The wind howled past his ears.
His thin clothing did nothing to block the chill, making him shiver.
He truly couldn’t fathom how the original Peter swung around late at night in a thin spandex suit—was he totally immune to freezing to death?
He definitely needed to buy thermal underwear later.
He pursued the van across rooftops all the way to the docks.
The vehicle pulled up outside Warehouse 153, the shutter door lifted, and the van drove straight inside.
Peter pried open a skylight, slipped in, and crept through the shadows along the base of the wall.
Inside the warehouse, a Mexican man in a tailored suit was waiting.
A briefcase rested at his feet, flanked by a row of bodyguards.
Razor stepped out of the van, and his men began unloading the crates.
The Mexican man handed over the briefcase.
“Your money.” Razor opened it, glanced inside, and nodded with satisfaction.
The Mexican man spoke up, noting that Mr.
Kingpin appreciated their cooperation.
With Manhattan crawling with the military lately, getting the “goods” in hadn’t been easy.
Hiding in the shadows, Peter felt his heart skip a beat.
*Kingpin??* *He was just following a small-time street gang, so how did he stumble straight into a transaction for Kingpin??* He quickly pulled out his camera, keeping it steady as he recorded the scene below.
This was gold—if he ever had to go toe-to-toe with Kingpin in the future, this would be rock-solid evidence.
If that blind lawyer was willing to step in, the impact would be massive.
Just then, Razor suddenly raised his price on the spot, demanding double the money next time, or else he’d sell the goods to Cottonmouth instead.
The Mexican man sighed, saying they were already paying three times the market rate.
Razor remained arrogant and pushy: take it or leave it.
The man’s eyes turned cold, and he snapped his fingers.
The bodyguards behind him raised their guns in an instant, a volley of gunfire erupting in unison.
Within seconds, Razor and his lieutenants were turned into strainers.
Peter held the camera dead still, ensuring the footage didn’t shake, though his mind was thoroughly rattled.
*Just killed them like that?
Without giving them any room to resist?*