Peter narrated in his own head “The cool night air of Queens whipped across the vigilante’s face as he smells faint car exhaust, stale pizza, and impending disaster”
Thwip!!!
He shot another web line, catching the corner of a brick apartment building and swing at an angle.
Kicking off the masonry, tucking into a tight triple-front flip just for the hell of it.
“If you’re going to be Spider-Man, you might as well look good doing it” Peter said to himself.
“But honestly?
The style points were mostly just a distraction from the sheer, terrifying absurdity of my reality.
Few months ago, I was a regular financial guy with heavy workloads.
Now, I was wearing a skintight suit, swinging from skyscrapers, and actively hunting a comic book villain” Peter continued his narration in his head.
Down below, the glowing neon lights of the city passed by gave way to the jagged, dark silhouettes of the central scrap yard.
Mountains of crushed cars and rusted metal loomed like sleeping monsters.
“Adrian Toomes, the Vulture” Peter thought to himself as he stick a perfect, low-crouch landing on top of a rusted crane.
Thanks to his past-life knowledge, he knew exactly who is guy hiding in the mechanize bird theme costume.
Peter continued his narration to himself “He thought he was the apex predator of this borough but He didn’t know a guy from another universe was about to crash his party”.
Narrowing his lenses and scanning the shadows of the scrap yard.
“Alright, Vulture,” Peter muttered under his breath, as electric tingle of his Spider-Sense started to buzz softly at the base of his skull.
“Let’s see if you fly as good as you look”.
A loud, rhythmic buzzing in my ear suddenly shattered my hyper-focused superhero focus.
BZZZZT.
BZZZZT.
Peter flinched, nearly slipping off the rusted crane arm.
He hurriedly scrambled to slap his hand against his mask’s ear piece, switching on the comms line.
“Peter?
Peter, do you copy?” Uncle Ben’s voice crackled through the speaker, sounding distinctively loud, grounded, and thoroughly unimpressed.
“You better hurry up it.
Aunt May is pacing the kitchen floor and she want us to finish our guy project soon and get ready for bed in thirty minute or else your great responsibility is going to be scrubbing the grout in the downstairs bathroom with a toothbrush”.
“I get it, Uncle Ben!” Peter hissed under his breath, pressing himself flat against the cold metal of the crane to keep out of sight.
“I just need to check my situation first before taking action”.
“Roger that, I will run interference with your Aunt!” Uncle Ben replied before cutting the feed.
Rubbing his temples through the spandex mask.
Peter complained to himself “Man, transmigrating into a superhero’s body didn’t absolve you from bedtime, high school or parental restrictions”.
Peter shook off the distraction.
He drop silently from the crane and stick himself to the side of a massive rusted shipping container.
He crept forward, utilizing his wall-crawling abilities to stay in the shadows as he searched for Adrian Toomes and his illegal salvage crew.
Homer can’t help me since all the cameras in the scrap yard is disabled.
According to his knowledge, the Vulture could be wearing a sleek, bird-like exoskeleton with high-tech green wings but the isn’t any Chitauri invasion in universe yet.
Instead, a heavy mechanical thud shook the ground followed by the terrifying whine of a massive hydraulic generator disrupted his train of thought.
He peeked over the edge of the shipping container and his jaw dropped beneath his mask.
“What the fucking hell is that?
This isn’t a wing suit” Peter cursed under his breath.
What he saw was a 15 foot tall mechanized vulture.
The machine loomed over the scrap yard, its chassis constructed from jagged overlapping plates of dark titanium and glowing pulsing yellow energy grids.
Instead of elegant wings, two massive, segmented mechanical rotors expanded from its back, tipped with heavy, razor-sharp blades that spun with terrifying velocity.
The cockpit was completely enclosed, featuring a glaring, single crimson optical sensor that scanned the area like a demonic searchlight.
The mechanize arms ended in massive, industrial pneumatic talons which is currently crushing a sedan into scrap metal just to test its grip.
“Hey, Toomes!” one of the ground crew shouted as he carry a glowing battery core toward the machine.
“Energy matrix is stabilized at ninety percent!” the vulture mecha’s external speakers roared to life emitting a deep synthesized terrifyingly distorted voice.
“Perfect.
With this bird, no one can stop us from robbing the Federal Reserve Bank!” the ground crew answered excitedly.
The other salvage crews who was busy transferring the stolen goods cheered in the background.
Peter broke out into a cold sweat.
This wasn’t the MCU, animated or comic book Vulture.
His knowledge had completely failed him.
Peter was looking at a full-blown war machine.
Peter knew exactly how dangerous this operation is going to be to deal with the current Toomes but he is not going to give up.
He wasn’t the broke, inexperienced teenager from the original timeline.
He was faster, exponentially stronger, and backed by better tech.
“Homer,” Peter whispered into his mask’s comms link, activating his custom-built, decentralized AI.
“Patch through an encrypted line to the NYPD, give them the exact coordinates and tell them about the exact situation here.
Don’t use my voice”.
“Understood, Peter” Homer’s smooth, synthesized voice echoed in his earpiece.
“Anonymous data packet transmitted.
Police dispatch has flagged it as a Grade-A priority.
ETA for local units is ten minutes”.
“Perfect.
Let’s make sure there’s something left for them to arrest” Peter said as swing out of the shadows and landed squarely on the hood of a moving forklift with a heavy metallic crash.
The ground crews froze.
Three of the dropped their crates and their jaws slacking slightly as they looked up at the sleek, unannounced vigilante.
“Evening, fellas” Peter said, his voice overlapping with a slight electronic distortion.
“Disarm and surrender”.
Before the could even reach for their weapon, Peter moved.
His reflexes made the thugs look like they were moving through molasses.
He caught one by the vest, lifting him effortlessly with one hand and tossing him gently into a pile of rubber tires before webbing him.
He swept the legs of the second, and webbed the third to a shipping container before a single alarm could be raised.
“Well, that was easy” Petter muttered to himself.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
His spider-sense tingle and warn him of the incoming danger.
Peter threw himself backward into a flawless, superhuman backflip just as a pair of massive, razor-sharp steel talons ripped through the concrete where he had been standing.
The warehouse roof shattered completely as a nightmare of engineering flew up into the air.
The villain soared his 15 foot tall mechanized Vulture menacingly.
Its wingspan blotted out the moon, pulsing with the angry yellow glow energy.
Inside the armored cockpit, the furious eyes of Adrian Toomes glared through a reinforced tactical visor.
“You’re disrupting a very delicate business model, kid!” Toomes roared, his voice amplified through external megaphones.
The Vulture lunged.
The massive mechanical wings spun, their edges shifting into circular diamond-tipped saws that whistled through the air.
With Peter’s far superior physical ability compared to the standard Peter Parker.
As a razor-sharp wing sheared a steel support beam in half, Peter simply tilted his head, letting the blade miss him by centimeters.
Toomes fired a barrage of micro-missiles.
Peter danced through the explosions becoming a blur of red and blue defying gravity as he ran up the side of a falling crate, entirely untouchable.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Peter taunted, executing a mid-air twist to avoid a sweeping tail rotor.
“My grandma moves faster than those wings!” Peter continued.
While Peter could easily avoid every single attack, apprehending the monster was proving to be a logistical nightmare.
Every time Peter managed to plant his feet and fire a high-tensile web-line to pin the wings, Toomes would activate an onboard pulse that fry the webbing instantly.
When Peter leaped directly onto the back of the chassis to rip out the main power coupling, the exo-suit’s automated defense systems deployed localized kinetic shockwaves, blasting Peter backward before his superhuman strength could tear the metal apart.
Toomes wasn’t just flying; he was utilizing advanced aerodynamic thrusters that shifted vectors instantly, keeping him a frustrating twelve feet above the ground, out of reach of an easy takedown.
The massive 15-foot frame gave the villain too much leverage, and the sheer momentum of the heavy machinery threatened to bring the entire warehouse down on top of the evidence.
“Homer!” Peter yelled, ducking under a sonic blast that shattered every window in a three-block radius.
“I need to pin him down to destroy the power cores.
Options?”
“Analyzing flight telemetry” Homer responded coolly.
“The Vulture’s left anti-grav generator is recycling air at an elevated temperature.
If you can force him to bank hard left, the angle of wing will make damaging it easier”.
Sirens began to wail in the distance.
The police were arriving.
Peter grinned beneath his mask, his enhanced muscles tightening as he prepared to spring.
“Alright, bird-man.
Let’s see how well you fly with a broken wing”.
Peter seized the moment.
He vaulted off a crumbling brick pillar, launching himself directly at the Vulture’s right side.
To Toomes, it looked like a reckless, straight-line leap.”Got you now, insect!” Toomes snarled, pivoting his massive 15-foot frame to bring his right razor-wing down like a guillotine.
That was exactly what Peter wanted.
Mid-air, Peter fired a web-line to a heavy forklift on the ground and pulled his body down violently to alter his trajectory.
He dodged the descending blade by an inch.
The sheer momentum of the Vulture’s missed swing, combined with Peter’s sudden evasion, forced Toomes to counter-balance.
Toomes slammed his thrusters into reverse and banked hard to the left to avoid crashing into the warehouse wall.
“The wing angle is exposed” Homer’s synthetic voice chimed instantly.
As the massive left wing tilted upward and exposing the glowing overheating anti-grav generator, Peter didn’t hesitate.
He used his enhanced strength to pull himself up a web-line, landing squarely on the joint of the exposed wing.
He gripped the reinforced titanium plating with his bare hands and pulled.
Inside the cockpit, warning lights flashed a frantic blinding red.
Toomes gasped as the flight telemetry screens went haywire.
Peter pulling with the force of a hydraulic press causing the metal to began to groan and twist under Peter’s fingers.
“This isn’t just s guy in a spandex suit” Toomes realized with a spike of pure adrenaline and terror.
“He’s not just fast.
He’s calculating.
He’s deliberately dismantling my tech”.
Toomes had fought rivals and military security before, but this Spider-Man felt like a walking supercomputer wrapped in steel muscles.
The vigilante was entirely unfazed by the high-tech arsenal, predicting every flight vector before Toomes even engaged the thrusters.
Toomes realized with absolute certainty “This guy is trying to capture me alive, and he’s still winning”.
Suddenly, the scrap yard gate blew inward.
“NYPD!
Drop your weapons!” a voice boomed over a megaphone.
A dozen heavily armored tactical police cruisers screeched into the courtyard, followed by two SWAT transport vans.
Officers flooded out, weapons raised.
But as their tactical spotlights cut through the thick dust and smoke of the warehouse, the entire line of police froze in absolute shock.
They expected a standard arms-smuggling bust.
Instead, they were staring at a sci-fi war zone.
A monstrous, 15-foot mechanical bird of prey was roaring in mid-air, its wings pulsing with volatile energy, while Spider-Man was trying to tear the machine wings apart with his bare hands while dodging plasma sparks.
“What in the holy hell is that?!” a SWAT sergeant muttered, his rifle dipping slightly as he stared up at the sheer scale of the mechanized Vulture.
“Hold fire!
Hold fire!” the captain yelled into his radio, utterly stunned by the brutal, fast-paced clash of titans happening right in front of them.
Toomes, realizing the cops had him cornered and his left wing was rapidly losing structural integrity, made a desperate move.
He triggered a manual emergency fuel dump from his right thruster, igniting a blinding wall of fire between himself, Spider-Man, and the arriving police.
Blinded by panic, Toomes ignored the flashing system warnings.
He fired his remaining right thruster, roaring through the wall of fire toward the terrified police line.
His massive steel claw snapped out, lunging directly for a SWAT officer who was pinned against a cruiser.”I’m taking one of you with me!” Toomes screamed through the external speakers.
He never got the chance.
Peter’s spider reflexes allowed him to move faster and move ahead of Vulture.
Leaping over the flames, he effortlessly launched a high-tensile webline that wrap securely around the officer’s tactical vest.
With a single sharp pull of his enhanced muscles, Peter yanked the policeman backward out of harm’s way.
Toomes’s Vulture heavy claw slammed into the cruiser’s hood, crushing the engine block like an aluminum can.
Peter sprang onto the back of the Vulture’s cockpit.
He jammed his fingers directly into the primary hydraulic housing of the 15-foot frame.
With a ferocious burst of superhuman strength, he ripped the main fuel lines and control cables completely out of the chassis.
The mechanized beast let out a dying electronic whine.
The glowing yellow energy sputtered and the massive machine collapsed forward.
The 15-foot exo-suit crashed heavily onto the concrete, completely disabled.
Peter quickly webbed Toomes securely inside the ruined cockpit, ensuring the arms dealer couldn’t reach any backup triggers.
As the thick smoke began to clear, a heavy silence fell over the warehouse.
Dozens of police officers slowly lowered their weapons, staring in awe at the defeated mechanical monster.
They looked up at Spider-Man, who was standing calmly on top of the wreckage, completely unharmed.
At his feet, Adrian Toomes groaned inside the jammed cockpit, entirely neutralized.
The SWAT captain stepped forward, looking at the trembling rescued officer, then up at the masked vigilante.
For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of police radios.
The captain lowered his megaphone and stared directly into Spider-Man’s stark white lenses.
He cleared his throat before saying “You…
you saved my man.
And you took down that thing.
Thank you”.
A murmur of agreement rippled through the ranks of the NYPD.
“Just keeping the neighborhood safe, Captain,” Peter said with his voice modulator giving his tone a reassuring voice.
“The contraband manifests and evidence are over there at the back crates.
It’s all yours”.
The captain gave a firm nod and waved his hand to his men.
“Secure the perimeter!
Let him pass”.
The officers stepped back, opening a clear path to the roof.
After that the police captain a step closer, raising a finger.
“Don’t get comfortable, kid,” the captain warned with his tone dropping to a low commanding growl.
“This is a one-time deal.
You’re operating outside the law, wearing a mask, and swinging around dangerously.
Next time we cross paths, I won’t turn a blind eye.
You play hero again in my precinct again and my men will bring you in.
Do you understand me?”.
Peter’s mind remained perfectly calm.
He knew the politics of the NYPD from his knowledge of the future and he is not expecting a key to the city.
“Understood, Captain” Peter replied smoothly.
“Enjoy the bust”.
Before the captain could reply, Peter snapped his wrist forward.
A high-tensile web-line shot through the smoke, anchoring to the highest crane above.
With a sudden flex of his enhanced muscles, he launched himself into the air, disappearing into the dark night sky before the police could even track his trajectory.
The captain watched the empty air for a few second, then turned back to his stunned squad.
“What are you standing around for?
Secure the perimeter and get the transport vans over here now!”.
The next morning, the Daily Bugle’s front page blared a massive, bold headline “MASKED MENACE TERRORIZES QUEENS: COPS DECLARE WAR!”.
Inside the bustling newsroom, J.
Jonah Jameson was pacing behind his desk like a caged tiger, a half-lit cigar clenched between his teeth.
He slammed a stack of printed photographs onto his desk, glaring at his terrified editor.
“Look at this!
Just look at it!” Jameson roared, pointing a trembling finger at a blurry photo of Spider-Man.
“The police captain practically issued a execution order, and what does the public do?
They make him a trending topic!
The captain explicitly said this masked freak is a lawbreaker, a vigilante danger to society!
Yes, fine, he dragged a cop out of the way of a giant mechanical bird—big deal!
That’s called basic human decency, not a license to wear spandex and operate vigilantism illegal!”
Jameson threw his hands in the air, his mustache twitching violently.
“But no!
The youth of today look at this menace and think, ‘Oh, wow, look at his boots, he’s so cool!’ He is a terrible role model!
Kids are going to start jumping off roofs thinking they are Spider-man!
Next thing you know, we’ll have teenagers webbing themselves to city buses!”.
The editor shifted uncomfortably, holding up a tablet.
“Uh, actually, Mr.
Jameson…
the public reception isn’t just positive.
It’s getting a bit…
weird.
Look at these social media comments on our live broadcast stream”.
Jameson snatched the tablet, his eyes squinting as he read the live feed aloud.”‘Spider-Man saved the day!
‘…
‘His ass looks incredibly hot’…” Jameson’s face turned an aggressive shade of purple.
He scrolled down further, his jaw dropping.
“‘I don’t care if he’s a menace, I want to have his babies’?!?”Jameson slammed the tablet face-down on his desk, looking entirely horrified.”Have his babies?!
Are these people out of their minds?!” Jameson bellowed, pacing frantically.
“He’s a mutated arachnid freak!
What do they expect?
A bunch of toddlers running around spitting web fluid out of their diapers?!
Crawling on the ceiling, ruining the wallpaper?!
They want a litter of spider-infants?!
It’s a public health hazard!
He’s corrupting the moral fabric of this city, and the internet wants to start a family tree with him!”.
He leaned over his desk, pointing directly at the editor’s face.
“Run the editorial!
‘Spider-Man: The Menace Who is Ruining Our Children and Churning Out Delusional Fans!’ And get me a picture of that giant mechanical vulture!
If we can’t sue the spider, we can at least sell papers!”.
The television screen in the Parker penthouse flickered with a bright red breaking-news banner: “THE SPIDER-MUTANT CRISIS?” On a split-screen, a panel of frantic talking heads debated whether Spider-Man was a genetic anomaly.
One pundit gestured wildly, shouting, “Think about it!
The physical strength, the wall-crawling—he didn’t get those from a tech lab!
He’s clearly a mutant, hiding among us, operating completely outside the law!”
With a sharp click, the channel changed.
Instantly, J.
Jonah Jameson’s red, furious face filled the screen, his voice booming through the living room speakers.”—AND I AM TELLING YOU, HE’S A MENACE!” Jameson screamed, slamming his fist on his desk.
“The police captain practically told this menace to get out of his sight!
And yet, the internet is filled with lunatics wanting to give this masked freak a family tree!
It’s a disgrace to New York!” Jameson said assertively.
Aunt May sat on the plush sofa, a mug of chamomile tea frozen halfway to her mouth.
She stared at the screen, her eyes wide, before letting out a sharp, exasperated sigh.
She clicked the remote, muttering under her breath as she muted the loud newsman.
“Honestly, that man’s blood pressure must be through the roof” Aunt May said, shaking her head as she looked over at Peter, who was casually eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen island.
“A spider-mutant?
Having babies?
What is wrong with the news these days, Peter?” Aunt May directed her question to Peter.
Peter swallowed his cereal, keeping his expression perfectly neutral despite his mind spinning with amusement.
“I think they just need ratings, May.
Sensationalism sells”.
“It’s just ridiculous” Aunt May scoffed, taking a sip of her tea.
“The man saved a police officer and they treat him like a monster.
If you ask me, whoever this Spider-Man is, he’s doing a lot of good.
Though…” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she looked closer at the muted screen showing a replay of Spider-Man leaping through the warehouse fire.
“Though what?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aunt May mused “Don’t you think his costume to be a bit revealing?
It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination”
Peter feeling embarrass cleared his throat, gave his best poker-faced composure and ignored Aunt May statement.