Fifteen minutes later, the lights flicker on, and Hammerhead darts past the window. Bingo. Sure, maybe I should have come up with a plan, but honestly, no way.
Now the unruly spider is in control. I grab the edge of the roof and, in a corkscrew motion, fling myself through the penthouse window, shattering it completely.
Hammerhead's girlfriend screams, the guy himself rolls behind the bar, and to top it off, two of his bodyguards burst into the room. I latch my web to the sofa and launch it at the hapless guards. One manages to dodge, but the other is slammed hard against the wall.
At that moment, Hammerhead springs into action, crawling out from under the bar and firing at me with a .911. I dodge and quickly web his gun's muzzle shut. With my next move, I close in on the second bodyguard, who hasn't recovered yet, and knock him out with a direct blow to the jaw.
Meanwhile, Hammerhead drops his futile attempt to clear the weapon and crawls out from behind the counter. "So what kind of freak are you?"
"I take it you're not aware of what happened yesterday?"
"Oh, so you are 'Spider-Man'? You know, you gave Shocker a good beating, but he was always a pushover," the big guy chatters, pacing around me.
"So you're not?" I mirror his movements.
"I'm not," he snaps, suddenly rushing at me like a battering ram. I jump, but the enemy stops abruptly, grabs my leg, and slams me to the floor.
I spring up and shoot a web at him. Hammerhead dodges.
"That wasn't pleasant," I reply angrily.
"That's nothing, web-slinger," he grins, pulling out brass knuckles. Picking up speed again, he charges, but this time I dodge. I grab a chair and smash it against his back.
"Not bad, bug."
"Okay, jokes aside. Where can I find your boss?"
"Are you kidding? I'm just warming up," he insists, coming at me with a standard boxing combo. Obviously, nothing connects. I dodge with ease.
"Last chance."
"Screw you."
"Fine." I grab the cabinet with webbing and throw it at Hammerhead. He collapses to the ground, covering his head. I use the remaining cartridges, cocooning the criminal as tightly as possible. The gangster struggles to break free.
"It's useless. I made sure only a few could escape. And certainly not a guy with an aluminum wig."
"Talk all you want, I won't say anything."
"The hard way, then." I grab Hammerhead by the chest and hurl him into the wall with all my strength.
"These are some impressive apartments. The boss must value you if you can afford such a mansion." I grab the still-intact bottle of champagne, pop it open, and watch it foam.
"What a fountain!" I say, lifting my mask to my nose and taking a sip.
"Not bad." I smash the bottle, leaving a shard in my hand. Hammerhead struggles to raise his head. The slam has clearly taken its toll. I leap up and press the glass to his face.
"So, ready to talk?"
"Are you nuts?"
"Just a little. Are we going to talk?"
"You can't scare me with cheap tricks."
"Got it," I say, tossing the shard aside. I grab him again and throw his body toward the balcony, smashing the glass doors.
"Look what you've done. What if someone gets cut?" Carefully stepping over the shards, I approach the bandit, whose face is now bleeding.
"You really are crazy."
"Exactly. Well, still not talking?"
"Throw me all you want. The cops will be here soon, and I think they'll be very interested in a 'hero' causing all this damage. Bastard!"
I hate to say it but he's right. I lost control. And the man's tough.
"All right, one last thing." I grab Hammerhead, hoist him onto the balcony edge, and pull his body up.
"Twenty floors below us. That's a long drop."
He's clearly scared but still holding out, so I continue.
Silently, gravity starts to take over as we tip forward.
"Stop!" Hammerhead shouts sharply.
I cling to the smooth concrete with my feet. Thanks, spider-power.
"Talk" I say in a calm voice, though adrenaline is surging. What were the odds of screwing up?
"Think about it, kid. Do you really want this?"
"Don't test my patience." I shake him over the abyss.
"Okay, okay. There's a meeting in a week. At the docks. Not just the Big Boss—others will be there. That's a generous offer, kid. So, will you let me go?"
"Well, you said it yourself…"
"That's not what I meant!"
"Relax!" I toss him back inside.
"The cops will be here soon, so—" I take out a note and attach it with a web to his collar.
"Have a good evening, Hammerhead." I hang him by the collar from the ceiling and swing away.
[Ten minutes later]
"Police, everyone freeze!" Officer Casey enters, surveying the trashed room: two unconscious men litter the floor, and, to top it off, a woman tries to cut through a strange substance as the man tied up keeps swearing.
"Oliver, isn't that Hammerhead?"
"Definitely him, Jim. Ma'am, please step back and put the knife down," Casey says, moving towards the criminal.
"I wonder who did this?"
"Looks like we have our answer," Oliver Casey says, showing his partner the note he took from Hammerhead.
"Best wishes, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," Jim Orton reads aloud.
"So this is the same guy who stopped the drug deal yesterday?"
"Looks like it. Okay, call for backup. We'll secure the scene. Ma'am, please answer a few questions."
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WOOHOO, wow! I'm not sure what came over me, but it feels like I did everything right. I've spent so much time lost in philosophical debates about the most mundane superhero dilemmas. There's always the main topic: "Only by killing do criminals truly fear you."
Take the Punisher, for instance. Who do criminals fear most—Cover Boy Cap? Tough guy Luke Cage? Calm ninja Daredevil or wisecracking Spider-Man? No. They fear the guy with the skull shirt, because meeting him nearly always means death.
And after tonight, I'm left with a moral crisis—I almost went over the edge trying to extract info from Hammerhead.
I was genuinely ready to kill the bastard. Rage and frustration were burning inside me, demanding blood. But, as always, the gentler, humane side in me prevails—the side taught by Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and, of course, my mother and grandmother. Still, the spider in me craves the hunt.
So now the question remains: Can I keep up the image of the Friendly Neighborhood? And, more importantly, do I even want to?
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