Chapter 370: Targeting Gwen
"Toomes is in trouble; he needs your help," Mason immediately said to the man watching TV.
"Give me the location." The burly Black man sitting on the sofa slowly stood up. His name was Herman Schultz, one of Toomes's partners. He walked to a table and pulled out a pair of specialized gauntlets.
The Abandoned Warehouse
"Give it up, Vulture." Peter caught a steel pipe thrown by the Vulture. He had already cornered Toomes.
"Never!" Toomes gritted his teeth and pulled a handgun from his jacket. "Get back!"
Peter looked at the black muzzle of the gun without a hint of fear, continuing his steady advance toward Toomes.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Toomes fired five consecutive shots at Spider-Man, but to his shock, the hero simply tilted his head and shifted his body slightly, dodging every bullet with ease. Peter closed the distance instantly. As Toomes tried to fire again, Peter spun and kicked the gun right out of his hand.
Clatter!
The pistol spun across the floor and settled in a far corner. Toomes clutched his aching right hand, glancing desperately at the weapon. Before he could move, Peter fired his web-shooters, wrapping Toomes in a cocoon of webbing.
"Sorry, looks like you need a timeout," Peter said. Because this was Liz's father, Peter was being relatively gentle, trying to avoid causing any real injury. He had decided to hand Toomes over to the police, but he wanted the process to be as painless as possible for Liz's sake.
"Let's go." Peter lifted Toomes with one hand, intending to get him to the precinct before his crew arrived.
Suddenly, a motorcycle roared toward the warehouse entrance at high speed.
"Hahaha! Schultz! You're finally here!" Toomes shouted, looking at Schultz like a savior.
Peter stared at the newcomer. Clearly, this was one of the accomplices, though the man's hands looked strange, fitted with mechanical gauntlets.
"So, you're Spider-Man?" Schultz didn't bother with a mask like Toomes. He stood boldly in front of the hero, blocking the exit.
"Uh... glad you've heard of me. Usually, everyone has a code name. What's yours?" Peter quipped.
"Enough talk! Get him, Schultz!" Toomes yelled, tired of being carried like a sack of potatoes.
"Call me Shocker!" Schultz thrust out one of his high-tech gauntlets.
Peter expected the gauntlet to fly off like a projectile, but instead, it emitted a massive, concentrated shockwave. Caught off guard, Peter was blasted backward. The impact forced him to drop Toomes.
Toomes, well-acquainted with Schultz's weapon, grabbed onto a heavy table just in time to avoid being blown away.
"How's that feel, Toomes?" Schultz chuckled as he helped Toomes up.
"My head is ringing," Toomes grunted.
"Sorry, emergency situation. Desperate times," Schultz replied.
Toomes grabbed his gear and scrambled toward the exit while Spider-Man was still recovering. "Hold him off!"
"You got it!" Schultz flexed his gauntlets. "Time to squash this bug!"
Crash!
Peter tossed aside the wooden crates that had fallen on him. He was a bit dazed; he hadn't seen a weapon like that before.
"Try this!" Schultz aimed both fists. A shockwave even more violent than the first tore through the warehouse. Objects disintegrated into splinters that flew toward Peter like shrapnel.
Peter's Spider-Sense screamed. Due to the layout of the warehouse, he had nowhere to dodge. Left with no choice, he ducked into the Shadow Kingdom to let the blast pass.
"Where did he go?" Schultz stared at the empty space. Spider-Man had vanished into thin air.
"Schultz, where is he?" Toomes asked, having now donned the Vulture flight suit.
"He's gone. Vanished like a ghost," Schultz muttered, scratching his head.
Toomes, however, knew about the hero's strange abilities. "Schultz, get back!"
He had spotted Spider-Man reappearing directly behind Schultz. Schultz's pupils dilated as he tried to spin around, but Peter was faster. He kicked Schultz's gauntlet and instantly webbed the man's hands together.
"So the trick to these gloves is—" Peter started to joke.
Wham!
Toomes swooped down, grabbing Peter by the shoulders and dragging him up through the roof, soaring high into the sky.
"Toomes!" Schultz shouted from below, desperately looking for something to cut the webbing off his hands.
The Sky
"Spider-Man! We're in the suburbs. There are no skyscrapers here. I wonder... if a bug like you hits the ground from this height, does it splat?" Toomes laughed maniacally. Below them were only small houses and two-story villas.
"Actually, I should point out that spiders aren't bugs; they're arachnids!" Peter corrected him, feeling the need to educate the criminal.
"I don't care what you are! Die!" Toomes snarled, hurling Peter toward the ground with all his might.
Peter aimed his shooters at the Vulture, hoping to pull himself back up, but the high-altitude wind currents were too strong. His webbing fluttered like a ribbon in the wind, unable to reach its target.
"Hahaha! Goodbye, Spider-Man!" Toomes didn't stick around to watch. He dove back down to retrieve Schultz.
"You should watch more movies," Peter muttered, looking at the ground. "Villains always talk too much."
Peter remained calm. "Gaia, do the thing."
"Understood, Peter. Deploying web-wings."
Snap!
Peter spread his arms, and a set of glider wings deployed from his underarms. This was a feature he had specifically added to his suit to counter the Vulture.
"Wooooo-hoooo!" Peter cheered. Gliding through the air was exhilarating. He could see Toomes picking up Schultz and flying off, but from this height, he couldn't stop them. He watched them disappear into the distance.
The Hideout
"Should we go back for him?" Schultz asked, looking up at the gliding Spider-Man.
"No. My primary weapon is trashed, and you can't land a decisive blow while he's in the air. We retreat," Toomes decided. He wanted to kill the spider, but he couldn't risk getting tangled in webbing mid-air.
They met up with Mason at their secret base.
"Spider-Man..." Mason pushed up his glasses. The hero was becoming a major problem. Their careful planning was being ruined by his constant interference.
"We have to deal with him permanently, or our business is dead," Toomes said, placing his damaged suit on the table.
"We need upgrades, Mason," Schultz added, setting down his gauntlets.
"Upgrades..." Mason sighed, twirling a pen. "We need money. Real money. Otherwise, we're stuck using scrap metal."
"Money?" Toomes paused. He thought of his daughter's friend, Gwen Stacy. She was the daughter of the NYPD Police Chief, George Stacy. A high-profile target like that could be worth a fortune...
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