[David's POV]
The thugs' confidence grew the second Spider-Man disappeared. Fifteen of them, guns raised, spread out in the half-destroyed hall. Dust and smoke still hung in the air, lit only by the weak flicker of broken lamps.
One of them spat on the ground, his voice carrying over the silence. "Okay guys, one freak is gone. We only got this one left. Let's get rid of him and finish the job."
Their guns aimed at me. I stayed behind the cracked pillar, watching their nerves settle into arrogance. Spidey was gone. That meant I could finally test something I had been holding back.
The broken lights gave me all the cover I needed. I steadied my breathing, letting the darkness fold around me. Then, as the first burst of gunfire cracked through the pillar, I melted into the shadows.
Bullets tore through stone where I had been. Shards of concrete rained down, but I was gone—slipping into the black veins stretching across the floor and walls. The thugs blinked, unsure. A few kept shooting, emptying magazines into empty air. The others started to panic.
"Where'd he go?!" one barked, his hands trembling around the trigger.
From their blind spot, I rose from the shadow of an overturned table. My foot snapped out, breaking one man's balance as my heel drove hard between his legs. He collapsed with a scream before I struck the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Before his friends could react, I dragged him into the shadows and tied his hands with cord.
The others backed away fast, eyes darting everywhere. Their fear was the first real crack in their confidence.
A muzzle flash lit the hall—another burst aimed wild. I appeared in the glow, behind the shooter. My arm snaked around his throat, cutting his air just long enough to make his eyes roll back. He slumped unconscious, and I quickly bound his wrists with rope before vanishing again.
They fired in every direction now, their discipline breaking. Bullets punched into walls, ricocheted off steel, whined into the dark. I used their chaos. Every shadow was a doorway. I slipped through one, came out from the side of a toppled beam, and swept a kick into another thug's groin. As he doubled over with a strangled cry, I chopped the back of his neck. He dropped, out cold. Another rope tied him up before I faded again.
"Shit! He's everywhere!"
I rose behind a pair of them crouching together, their guns shaking. A hand on each of their shoulders made them whirl. A hard slam of their heads together dropped them both unconscious. Before their bodies could fall, I dragged them into the dark and bound their arms tight.
Seven left. Their circle tightened, back to back, but fear had already eaten into their bones. The shadows stretched long, creeping closer as the flickering lamps died one by one.
I stepped out of the darkness right in front of them. For a split second they froze—then all hell broke loose. Guns blazed. I was already gone, dissolving backward into the dark like smoke. Their bullets found nothing.
From above, I dropped out of the ceiling's shadow, crashing onto one man and driving him to the floor. A sharp strike to his jaw knocked him limp. I pulled rope tight around his arms before fading back into the dark.
Another grabbed a flashlight, fumbling to turn it on. The second the beam cut through the dark, I lunged from its edge, twisted his wrist until he yelped, then kicked him hard in the groin. He crumpled, unconscious moments later, tied up beside the others.
Five left.
They were sweating now, backs slick, voices shaking. "We… we gotta get outta here, man! This ain't human!"
But the exits were behind me. They weren't getting past.
I let them run toward the doorway anyway. I sank into the shadows. One after another, they stumbled, yanked down screaming. I struck them in the dark—knees, ribs, heads—each blow careful, precise, leaving them unconscious but breathing.
Soon only one remained. His gun shook so badly it rattled. He fired one last time, the shot deafening in the empty space.
I rose from the shadow of the fallen body at his feet, inches from his face. My eyes caught the weak light, glowing red through the mask. His weapon slipped from his hands as he stammered, backpedaling wildly until his heel caught debris. He fell hard on his ass, scrambling backward with both hands up.
I stepped closer, slow and deliberate, letting the silence crush him. He was pale, breath shallow, his body trembling as if it might break.
"Wh-who… who the hell are you?" he stammered.
I didn't answer. Instead, I crouched in front of him, the mask inches away from his face. My voice was calm, low, cutting through his panic.
"Who are you working for?"
The man swallowed hard.
"N-No one… we just—" For a second he looked ready to lie.
But his voice cracked under my stare. "Okay, okay! M-Maggia," he blurted. "We're Maggia… Joseph Martello, the Hammerhead's crew."
I tilted my head, studying him. "What was the job?"
He nodded rapidly, words spilling out in fear. "We… we were told to steal the painting. Cause chaos while we grabbed it. That's why we crashed the museum. Hammerhead wanted it bad."
"Which painting?" I pressed.
He swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his temple. "A piece called The Maria. That's what the boss wanted."
I crouched down, leveling my gaze with his. "And how do you know that?"
"Because… because I'm the right-hand of tonight's crew leader. He told me himself. I'm not lying, man. Please, I'm not lying."
I stayed quiet, letting the weight of silence squeeze him further. His breathing quickened, his eyes darting anywhere but at me.
The Maria. The name alone confirmed what I already suspected. "The Cat knew huh."
He blinked. "W-What?"
I shook my head. "Never mind."
By now, Felicia Hardy was already gone, slipping out beyond the reach of my eagle sense, and spidey seems to have some difficulty there.
But I wasn't caught off guard. I had known this outcome was inevitable. Long before tonight, I had already set plans in motion, preparing for the moment she walked away with whatever she came here for.
I held his gaze another long moment, watching the sweat drip from his forehead. He wasn't lying—he was too scared to.
Finally, I stood. He flinched, thinking I'd strike him, but instead I tossed a length of cord at his lap. "Tie yourself."
His hands shook as he obeyed, wrapping the rope clumsily around his wrists, too terrified to resist. Once he was secured, I tightened the knots myself and knocked him out.
---
---
Spider-Man swung after Black Cat, his movements sharp and restless.
A separate group of thugs slipped in through another entrance, moving straight toward the painting. Spider-Man noticed them and muttered, "Not tonight, guys."
In seconds, he had them webbed up against the walls and floor. "You would think word would get around. Breaking into museums on my watch is a bad career move."
For a moment, it looked like he might actually corner Black Cat.
She turned, smirking, "You are too late, Spider. It is not just about the painting. Inside The Maria there is a flash drive, just like that guy said."
Spider-Man froze, his head tilting. "What? A flash drive? Since when do painters stash USBs in their work?"
She did not just tell him, she proved it. With a dramatic swing, she smashed the frame against the marble floor right in front of him. Wood splintered, canvas tore, and from the wreckage she plucked out a sleek flash drive.
Holding it up between two gloved fingers, she taunted, "See? I told you. But I don't know how that guy knew."
Spider-Man's eyes widened behind the mask. "You have got to be kidding me."
Black Cat's laughter rang through the hall, mocking and playful. "Guess some things are worth more than paint and history, Spider. But this, this is mine." She dangled the drive like bait, then slipped back into the shadows.
Spider-Man launched forward, chasing, but her trap was already sprung. With a screech of steel, the massive hanging model of the planet gave way and dropped toward the webbed-up thugs below.
"Oh, come on!" Spider-Man shot webs upward, swiftly jumping and catching the huge model from the ceiling before it could crush them. His arms strained, shoulders tightening as he held the enormous weight above the helpless men. "This is not how I wanted leg day to go."
He groaned unable to move. "Stay calm, guys. You are safe. Just… do not breathe too hard, okay?" The irony was sharp, Spider-Man holding up the world like Atlas, while the thief he wanted most was slipping away.
By the time he stabilized the globe and made sure the thugs were unharmed, Felicia Hardy was gone. So was the drive inside it.
Spider-Man stood in the wreckage, breathing hard. "Great. Just great. She gets the prize, I get to be a one-man moving company." His voice carried the weight of frustration, heavier even than the globe he had caught.
I entered the hall just in time to see Spider-Man struggling under the weight of a massive planet model that had nearly crushed a group of thugs he had webbed up earlier. His webs held the thing from the ceiling, but I could tell he was straining.
I walked closer and called out, "Need a hand?"
He looked down at me, even with all that pressure on his arms, and still found a way to quip. "Yeah, I was just about to say no, but honestly, yes. Please."
I rushed over and pulled the webbed thugs out from under the model. Once they were clear, I shouted, "Drop it."
The moment he let go, I moved fast. My hands caught the falling structure, and in the same second I sent it straight into my inventory. To anyone watching, it looked like the giant model had simply vanished into thin air. Just as quickly, I made it reappear on the floor and said, "Web it down before it rolls."
"What—how did you—where did that go? Who even are you?" Spider-Man fired questions one after another, completely thrown off.
But he wasted no time, firing a line to anchor it in place. Only then did he whip his head back toward me.
I did not answer them. Instead, I looked at him and said, "The police are on their way. We have a thirty seconds window. Use it wisely."
Before he could say anything else, I moved out, slipping into the shadows. By the time Spider-Man turned to follow, I was gone.
He stood there, still stunned. Then, with sirens starting to grow louder outside, he muttered, "Okay… that just happened," before making his own exit.
--
--
A few buildings past the museum, Spider-Man crouched on the edge of a tall rooftop. From up there, he watched the flashing red and blue lights below as police officers wrapped up the scene. Dozens of ambulances lined the street, loading up the injured thugs one by one. He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, "Guess crime really doesn't pay. Except in hospital bills."
The night was quiet for a beat, only the faint sirens echoing in the distance. Then, out of nowhere, a calm voice spoke right beside him. "Nice haul, right?"
Spider-Man yelped, his whole body jolting in shock. "AHHH!" He nearly slipped off the ledge, clutching the brick to steady himself. His head whipped around to see me standing there, completely relaxed as if I had been part of the rooftop all along.
"What the..." Spider-Man stammered, pointing a finger at me. "You can't just sneak up on people like that! That is not funny. You almost gave me a heart attack!"
I tilted my head slightly. "You handled yourself fine back there. Impressive."
Spider-Man huffed. "Thanks, I guess. And you... hood guy. You keep showing up, and I still have no idea what your deal is."
I gave a faint shrug. "You can keep calling me that if you like."
He folded his arms, clearly not satisfied. "Most people trying to be mysterious at least pick a cool code name."
"Names do not change results," I replied calmly.
Spider-Man sighed through his mask. "You really are something else."
I let the silence hang for a moment, then asked, "You from Queens?"
He froze just for a second, his body stiff. "What? No. Nope. Not me. Definitely not."
I studied him quietly, watching how quickly he tried to cover. "Alright," I said simply, not pushing any further.
He shifted uncomfortably and tried to move the subject away. "So... you just going to keep popping out of the shadows and messing with bad guys?"
"Nope not my plan," I said. "New York has plenty of them. But this time, I moved because a power vacuum is already forming. One major gang fell, and the chaos left behind is spreading. So lots of gangs are weighing for power control."
Spider-Man tilted his head. "Yeah, well, I hope you are on the same side. Because honestly, you freak me out more than some of these guys do."
I leaned back against the ledge. "I read the Bugle, it's been calling you a menace lately. Still, your name has been picking up in the last six months."
Spider-Man groaned, dropping his head into his hands for a moment. "Yeah, tell me about it. One of the main reasons is a guy calling himself Scorpion. He has been making things harder for me." He sighed, shaking his head. "But the Bugle does not care about details. They just want to make me look like the bad guy."
Without a word, I reached into thin air and pulled out a bag. I unwrapped two sets of Gray's Papaya hot dogs and papaya juice as if I had just grabbed them from nowhere. After finishing one set myself, I slid the other toward him. "Eat."
Spider-Man blinked, completely stunned. "Wait... what? That's... that's not normal!"
"Every one has secrets spidey," I said simply. "Now eat up."
He hesitated, then slowly took them. "Okay... this is officially the weirdest team-up snack I've ever had."
I glanced at him. "Team-up snack, huh? So who have you teamed up with before?"
He stammered. "Ugh... yeah... no one."
I raised an eyebrow. "I know you have fought alongside the Fantastic Four. You even helped during the Chitauri invasion."
He nearly choked on his hot dog. "Ah, no, no, it was not like that! I did not eat with the Avengers or anything. It was just... Johnny and Ben. I mean, the Human Torch and the Thing. That is it."
I gave a small nod, letting him squirm in the silence while I finished my drink.
To Be Continued...