December 2006 arrived in the city accompanied by a dry winter. Life went on as usual, and apparently for the better according to Aunt May, thanks to Uncle Ben being able to pay off the house debts using some supposed savings he had tucked away somewhere and had forgotten about, though in reality, it was part of the money I was taking from the mobs. The rest of the cash remained in my hands, mainly for me to fund my life as Spider-Man. But while everything seemed normal in the Parker home, in the New York underworld, calm did not exist.
In a private room of an Italian restaurant, tobacco smoke floated thick beneath the crystal chandeliers. The bosses of the main Maggia families and representatives of local gangs were seated at the table, but no one touched the food.
"Damn it!" one of the leaders blurted out, throwing a bundle of reports onto the tablecloth. "That insect blew up two of our shipments in the Bronx and emptied a safe in Brooklyn last week. My boys can't even see him coming."
"The police say he's a lunatic in tights," he kept muttering. "But that bastard is ruining our business."
Silvio Manfredi, the leader at the table, slammed the table hard, making the wine glasses rattle.
"I'm tired of losing money and having my men afraid to go out on the street," he sentenced in a cold voice. "The police don't know what to do, and we can't hunt a guy who moves faster than we can see. That's why I brought someone to take care of that insect and clean up this mess. He's going to take care of crushing that damn spider."
While the mobs searched for a solution, the media fed the fire every morning. On the radio, the shrill voice of J. Jonah Jameson rumbled in taxis and newsstands across the city.
"That guy is a public menace!" Jameson yelled through the Daily Bugle microphone. "A lunatic who thinks he's above the law! They say he helps people, but all he does is disrupt the police's work and damage the city's infrastructure. Are we going to let this threat remain free in our city? The police should arrest him now!"
However, not all newspapers followed the Bugle's discourse. In the pages of The Bulletin, a very different reality was shown, placing emphasis on how there had been a drop in robberies and violence over the past month. Public opinion was completely divided between people who defended him and people who didn't, the latter being the majority due to the sheer broadcasting power of the Daily Bugle.
At NYPD headquarters, the atmosphere was tense. Captain George Stacy stared at the corkboard full of photos of criminals tied up with webbing and medical reports of thugs with broken jaws. Several detectives argued in low voices, showing their frustration over the lack of results. Detective Stan Carter stepped forward smoothly, adjusting his tie with apparent professional concern.
"Captain, we need to be realistic about this," Carter suggested with concern. "If prosecutors see that the police can't handle a guy in tights who bypasses the law, the department is going to lose all credibility. Maybe we should coordinate with tactical units to respond with more firmness the moment he shows his head, before the situation gets completely out of hand."
Detective Carter's supposed concern for public order masked something darker; he was following instructions from the Kingpin. The Kingpin was not amused that an idiot in tights was dismantling the activities that funded his operations, and he preferred the police to do his dirty work.
A few feet away, Sergeant Jack MacEndree, another officer who received Fisk's thick envelopes to look the other way nodded slowly, subtly reinforcing his partner's point.
"Carter makes a solid point, Captain. If we don't declare Spider-Man a high-priority threat and authorize an arrest warrant, we're gonna have public opinion against us, and the gangs are gonna start arming themselves more to defend against him. We don't want a war on the streets just because someone decided to go out and play judge and jury."
"That's enough suggestions!" George Stacy interrupted, slamming the board with a marker. "I understand the situation perfectly. Nobody in this department likes a clown in tights trying to do our job, especially by violating due process."
"But let's not be fools either. He's hunting down the city's mobs, mainly the Maggia. That doesn't make him a hero; it makes him a highly dangerous individual. For the moment, we can tolerate his existence since our interests seem to align. Until then, secure the scenes and interview the witnesses."
At Midtown High, things were moving calmly, though to me, everything still felt utterly bizarre. Despite having the original Peter's memories floating in my head, being in an American high school made me feel like I was stuck inside a Disney movie or some 2000s teen drama all the time. In my past life, I wasn't American, and my high school days, while similar, never had so many stupid complications. In my old world, things were simple: everything was settled with fists and that was it, or at least that's how I handled it when they wanted to start bothering me, and they never tried it again. Plus, I had always had a very tight-knit group of classmates, so this whole system straight out of a teen movie or show felt like a total cliché to me.
Even so, the social dynamic took on a rhythm very similar to the animated series The Spectacular Spider-Man. My days were split between talking with Gwen, Ned, and Harry, and my tutoring sessions with Liz.
That same week, the New York City Science Fair was announced. The winner would get a research scholarship and access to the labs in the Baxter Building itself. The Fantastic Four did not exist as superheroes yet; at this point in the timeline, Reed Richards and his team were brilliant scientists with a space trip scheduled a few months out. Still, winning that scholarship was the perfect opportunity to start networking with the scientific elite before their mutation. Gwen, Ned, and I immediately signed up for Midtown High's team, ready to participate and try to win the competition.
On Friday night, I went out to patrol, swinging between the buildings of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Although I didn't use to drop many jokes and cracks to mock common criminals during my outings, the truth was that these outings became very boring very quickly, so I started doing it more regularly out of pure boredom. Ordinary muggers couldn't keep up with my pace at all, and the routine was already getting monotonous. I perched for a while, crouching at the very top of a church, in a pose identical to comic book covers to farm aura while tracking down my next target, a warehouse.
Once I found it, I dropped onto a waterfront warehouse on the edges of Queens that belonged to the Manfredi family. I crawled across the ceiling, hidden in the place's shadows. Below, several thugs were loading crates while two of them talked near a table.
"...I'm telling you, man, Don Manfredi is sick of losing money and shipments because of that damn spider," one of them said, his voice shaking as he glanced sideways toward the ceiling shadows. "I heard a rumor that they're bringing in a heavy hitter to hunt down the insect. A guy with a steel forehead who, they say, can smash through walls with a headbutt."
Hearing that, I felt such a massive rush of excitement that I almost burst out laughing right then and there while my mind quickly connected the dots. "Steel forehead? Smashes through walls? You gotta be kidding me, it's Hammerhead!" I deduced on the spot. "Finally! Finally someone actually interesting shows up!" I was sick and tired of common criminals; my body was practically begging for a challenge, and the Maggia had just handed it to me on a silver platter by sending Hammerhead after me.
I dropped from the beam, landing right in the middle of the group, and dismantled the entire warehouse in a flash, leaving the thugs wrapped in a nest of webbing before calling the cops. The Maggia had already grown tired of my outings across the city, but the real fun was just about to begin.