The Hero New York Deserves... and the One It's Stuck With
Peter was swinging toward Empire Avenue when the police radio crackled in his ear.
"Shots fired—gang-related. Officers requesting backup at—"
Peter sighed. Of course. Can't even get to class without some drama.
Crime had skyrocketed lately, with mutants, crime lords, and supervillains popping up like some twisted version of a city-wide talent show.
And honestly? He was kinda surprised he wasn't dead yet.
But hey, no time to dwell on that.
With a flick of his wrist, Spidey shot a web-line and launched himself toward the action.
The scene was classic gang warfare—thugs in oversized jackets, flashing illegal weapons, standing around like they were extras in a bad action movie.
A bunch of cars blocked the street, and a few gangsters were mid-argument, waving guns like glow sticks at a rave.
Peter perched on a nearby lamp post, watching.
Man, these guys are just begging to get their butts kicked.
Without a sound, he jumped into action.
Thwip! Thwip!
Two thugs were yanked backward, their guns flying into the air as Peter webbed them to the walls.
"Wha—"
THWIP!
A third guy tried to raise his pistol—too slow. Spidey kicked him into a dumpster.
"Wow, you guys are really bad at this. Do they just give out criminal licenses these days?"
The remaining gangsters freaked out, scrambling for cover.
Spidey sighed.
"Alright. Let's speed this up."
He flipped into the air, landed behind two thugs, and casually tapped them on the shoulders.
"Hey."
They screamed.
Before they could react, Peter webbed their hands to their own faces.
"Boom! Now you got built-in masks. Safety first, guys!"
Another thug aimed a shotgun—
Peter sighed. "Nope."
Web!
Shotgun? Gone.
Thug? Dropkicked.
One last guy tried to run for it.
Peter yanked his hoodie back like a kid on a leash.
"Whoa, where ya going? Didn't we just become best friends?"
The guy whimpered.
With the gang webbed up and groaning, Peter landed in front of them, his dark lenses glowing faintly.
"You see these?" He tapped his goggles. "They're recording your faces."
The gangsters gulped.
"So if I see you guys again…" He cracked his knuckles.
"I'll make sure you never hold a gun again."
To drive the point home, he casually snapped two fingers—
CRACK!
The right arms of every thug bent at very unpleasant angles.
The screaming was instant.
Peter waved a hand. "Oh relax, it's just a warning. Next time, I might get creative."
The thugs all nodded furiously, fear in their eyes.
Peter tilted his head. "Good talk. Now, I'm gonna whisper into your heads and make this extra creepy."
The gangsters froze as Peter's telepathic voice slithered into their minds.
"Play nice, now."
Cue panic attacks.
The cops finally arrived, stepping out of their cars and gawking at the carnage.
One officer actually tripped over a webbed-up thug.
Peter waved. "Easy, guys! Sorry for messing with your organized chaos, but I didn't want these guys getting hurt or, y'know, escaping."
One cop raised his gun—accidentally firing.
Peter casually snatched the bullet out of the air.
The cops stared.
Peter sighed.
"See? This is why we can't have nice things."
The officer slowly lowered his gun.
Peter gave them a thumbs-up. "Look, your toy guns don't work on me, so let's just be friends, yeah?"
Then, in one smooth motion, he disappeared into thin air.
The cops blinked.
One muttered, "What the hell just happened?"
Another shrugged. "Tuesday."
With the gangsters webbed up and their weapons conveniently "confiscated" (because finders, keepers), Peter dusted off his hands and took a deep breath.
"Alright, crime solved, warnings issued, property damage minimized—this calls for a victory lap."
With that, Spidey shot a web, launching himself into the air with the grace of a caffeinated squirrel.
Peter soared through the skyline, his black suit standing out against the morning sun like a mysterious ninja superhero... who just really liked showing off.
"CITIZENS OF NEW YORK!" he bellowed dramatically. "BEHOLD YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDERMAN IN ALL HIS GLORY!"
A lady on a balcony nearly dropped her coffee. "Oh my immortal, it's that weird black-suit Spider-Man again!"
"WEIRD?!" Peter gasped mid-swing. "Ma'am, please! This is fashion-forward!"
Another guy in a business suit muttered, "I swear, he gets weirder every day."
Peter flipped through the air and landed on a streetlamp, striking a majestic pose.
"FEAR NOT, FOR I AM HERE TO—"
Car horns blared as Peter realized he was blocking a traffic light.
"...Okay, bad perch choice," he muttered, flipping away.
As Peter continued his glorious crusade, he kept an eye out for trouble.
🚗 An old lady nearly got hit by a cab—
THWIP! Webbed the taxi's bumper.
🚴♂️ A cyclist swerved toward an open manhole—
THWIP! Pulled the cover back over it just in time.
💼 A guy's briefcase exploded open, sending papers flying—
THWIP! Gathered them midair and handed them back like a true gentleman.
"Here ya go, sir! Paperwork secured!"
The man blinked. "Uh… thanks?"
"Anytime! Unless you're a lawyer. In that case, please rethink your life."
As Peter swung past a school, he spotted a group of kids staring up at him with wide eyes.
One of them yelled, "SPIDEY!"
Peter landed in front of them, hands on his hips.
"Yes, tiny humans? Have you gathered to witness my greatness?"
The kids swarmed him instantly.
"Can we take a selfie?!" one kid asked, holding up a phone.
Peter gasped. "A selfie?! With me?! Oh my immortal, you guys, this is so unexpected."
A girl giggled. "You're acting like a celebrity."
Peter posed dramatically. "Because I AM."
Click!
It was glorious. His first selfie.
The kids cheered, and Peter gave them all high-fives before launching back into the air.
As he swung away, he patted his chest proudly.
"I'm gonna be on so many Instagram pages today."
Swinging through New York, Peter felt pretty good about himself.
He had stopped crime, saved lives, made people laugh, and secured a place in selfie history.
If that wasn't peak hero work, he didn't know what was.
"Alright, time to get to Uni," he muttered, checking the time—
…Five minutes late.
"SON OF A—!"
And with that, Peter sped off toward class, leaving behind a city that was just a little bit safer, a little bit weirder…
…And a whole lot more entertained.
Peter's first run through the city had been both exhilarating and insightful. As he swung from skyscraper to skyscraper, stopping crimes and helping civilians, he began to see the bigger picture—his actions were shaping his image.
Being a hero wasn't just about strength or power. It was about connection. If the people saw him as relatable, as someone who truly cared, they would support him when things got tough.
Heroes who were too distant—like Sentry, who remained a mystery to the public, or Hulk, whose reputation leaned towards destruction—often lost that connection. Without public trust, even the strongest heroes faced resistance from law enforcement and civilians alike.
Peter had no intention of making that mistake.
After his morning escapades, Peter arrived at Empire State University, walking through the familiar hallways. As he rounded a corner, he spotted a familiar figure—a man carrying a stack of papers, his expression calm and focused.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Connors," Peter called out, quickening his steps to reach him.
Dr. Curtis "Curt" Connors looked up and smiled. A kind man with a patient demeanor, Connors was well-liked among the students. He had a way of making science feel inspiring rather than intimidating.
"Afternoon, Peter," Connors greeted, shifting the papers in his arms. "Where have you been today?"
Peter easily stepped in and took some of the documents from his hands, helping to carry them to class.
"I was with a friend," Peter replied casually. "They needed my help with some subjects."
Connors gave a small, approving nod. "That's good. You should always make time for friends. Don't dive too deep into your studies and forget about your social life—you might regret it later."
Peter couldn't help but smile. Connors wasn't just a mentor—he was a friend. The man had been through so much in his life, yet remained kind and hopeful.
Born and raised in Coral Gables, Florida, Curt Connors had once been a gifted surgeon. His skills had even led him to the battlefield, where he performed emergency surgeries on wounded soldiers. But war had a cost—he lost his right arm in a blast, forcing him to abandon his career.
His life took a new direction after that. Driven by a dream to help people like himself, he dedicated himself to science, studying reptilian regeneration in hopes of creating a serum that could regrow lost limbs.
Despite the hardships he had faced, Connors remained compassionate and humble, always encouraging his students.
Peter reminded him of his younger self—a brilliant but shy young man who often got lost in his work. He saw Peter's potential and had taken him under his wing, allowing him to assist in his research.
Peter's financial struggles were no secret to him, and he had quietly made sure that his lab became a place where Peter could thrive without limitations.
Their bond had formed three years ago when Peter visited the university on a school trip. What began as a chance meeting turned into a strong mentorship. They often spoke over the phone, discussing scientific theories, and soon Peter started visiting Connors' lab regularly. Over time, the two had become close friends.
Peter adjusted the papers in his arms and glanced at Connors. "So, any new developments?"
Connors' face lit up. "Yes! The serum worked on the mice. We're one step closer to achieving our goal."
Peter's eyes widened. "That's incredible! Congratulations, Dr. Connors!" In his excitement, he hugged Connors with his free arm, careful not to drop the documents.
Connors chuckled. "Thank you, Peter. Will you be joining us in the lab today?"
"Of course! I can't back out now, especially at this stage."
"Wonderful," Connors nodded. "I'll be waiting for you after class."
With that, he stepped into the lecture hall ahead of Peter.
Peter followed, setting down the documents on the professor's desk before making his way to his seat. As he sat down, Gwen Stacy turned toward him and waved.
Peter smiled back. It was going to be a good day.
As Peter settled into his seat, Gwen turned toward him, her bright blue eyes full of curiosity.
"I didn't know you were close to the professor," she said, resting her chin on her hand.
Peter shrugged casually. "I've known him since high school."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Really? Then could you put in a word for me? I want to be his lab assistant and learn from him directly."
Peter smirked. "Have you tried talking to him?"
"I did," Gwen sighed, crossing her arms. "But he told me, 'Not yet. You haven't shown anything special to warrant such attention.'"
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like him. He's really busy right now, so you'll have to wait. Besides, you need to impress him. I'm not going to convince him to take someone he doesn't want."
"That's good enough for me," Gwen said, leaning back in her chair. "I just need a chance."
"Give it a month or so. If you don't get your shot by then, I'll see if I can make something happen. Or better yet, you can try on your own. There's an assignment coming up soon—maybe use that as your way in."
"I was thinking the same thing," Gwen admitted, her face lighting up. "I'm kind of excited to see what we can cook up together. I just want to see what that big brain of yours can make."
Peter was about to respond, but he suddenly found himself distracted—not by her words, but by her. The way she spoke, the way her ruby lips curled into a smile, the way her eyes twinkled with curiosity—in that moment, she looked truly captivating.
"Why are you so interested in my head?" he asked, shaking off the thought.
Gwen grinned. "I've read your articles. Your science fair projects. You're a genius, Peter. Of course, I'm interested."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, a bashful grin spreading across his face. "You're gonna make me blush if you keep praising me like that."
Gwen giggled. "You're really different from what I expected."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "And what did you expect?"
"I thought you'd be a serious guy with a dull personality, but you're actually kind and playful."
Peter smirked. "Never judge a book by its cover."
"I know," Gwen said with a small laugh. "But sometimes it just happens."
"I know," Peter teased. Then, turning his attention to the front of the classroom, he added, "Now shh, class is starting."
Gwendolyne "Gwen" Stacy was the daughter of NYPD Captain George Stacy and Helen Stacy. Raised in a strict but loving household, Gwen had always been different from other girls.
While most were interested in fashion or social status, Gwen was fascinated by science. She wanted to understand the world, to find answers, to discover rather than just accept.
But that didn't mean she was antisocial. Unlike the typical 'science nerd' stereotype, Gwen was outgoing, confident, and sharp-witted.
She had never been in a romantic relationship before—not because she wasn't interested in dating, but because no one had ever caught her attention.
Jocks? Too simple-minded.
Popular guys? Too self-absorbed.
Average guys? Too intimidated by her intelligence.
Then there was Peter Parker.
She had read about him before even meeting him. His science fair wins, his published articles, his problem-solving skills—she had admired his intellect from afar. So, when she finally got the chance to meet him at university, she had been looking forward to exchanging ideas with someone who could actually keep up with her.
And to her surprise, he wasn't just a genius. He was funny, relaxed, and oddly charming.
'I thought he'd be this skinny nerd, but his arms are actually thick…' Gwen mused, sneaking a glance at Peter's forearms. She hadn't expected him to be physically strong, but after their conversation, she had noticed how defined his muscles were.
Her father had trained her in self-defense, so she was more aware than most of physical attributes. She wasn't some damsel in distress—her dad made sure of that.
She had karate training, a taser, pepper spray, and even a retractable baton in her bag. Any thug who thought she was easy prey was in for a painful surprise.
But Peter? He seemed like the type who didn't need any of that.
'Maybe there's more to him than just brains,' she thought, her lips curling into an intrigued smile as class began.