I toss the can into the bin without looking back and run toward the thief before he shoots Uncle Ben.
A car almost hits him, brakes screeching, and the thief yells,
"You wanna die, bitch!"
He points his gun at the driver, and the driver raises his hands in panic. But knowing him, he hesitates, stammering, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"Dammit!" shouts the thief, frustrated.
"Knew it..." I chuckle, realizing he is not wearing a mask.
The thief keeps running, ignoring the driver since the security guard already saw his face.
Thanks to Tony Stark in my past life, I remember the story he told me about a kid who helped him with his suit during the Mandarin situation.
The kid had recommended Tony to add a stealth mode to his armor, making it easier to pass by enemies when things did not go his way.
Because of the kid's advice, Tony gave him gifts as a thank you. He even recommended the boy to MIT or Caltech, if I remember correctly. I think his name was Harley.
I reach into my pocket and pull out miniaturized spider bots that I made in my room, using some parts I "borrowed" from school projects.
Hey, readers. It is not stealing if the stuff is getting thrown out. Note to kids and teenagers, do not steal. Or I will force you to listen to that one Spidey cereal song from my past life.
Back to where I stopped. The bots spring to life, their tiny legs clicking as they leap onto the ground. They scatter invisiblelly across the pavement, moving like shadows.
I flick my wrist, and a few of them shoot out thin, sticky webs, clinging to the thief's shoe before crawling up his pants. He doesn't even notice until one makes it to his ear.
Chomp!
"Ouch!"
The mini spider bot sinks its fangs into his skin, and the thief jerks violently, trying to slap it away.
I smirk. I also added a little bit of paralytic poison to make sure he does not escape.
His legs buckle. He stumbles forward, trips, and collapses to the ground, thrashing weakly as the poison spreads. To anyone watching, it looks like he tripped and lost his balance. But I know better.
It is done. I slow my pace, catching my breath, and see Uncle Ben finally calming Flint Marko down.
Marko's shoulders shake as he cries, guilt pouring out in every word of apology, regret weighing heavy on him.
The sound of sirens fills the air. Red and blue lights flash across the street as the police arrive just in time.
I had already called them beforehand after leaving the library, slipping in a little anonymous tip about an illegal underground wrestling arena.
I take one last glance at the thief pinned to the ground, the bots holding him steady, before stepping back into the shadows. Tonight, at least, Uncle Ben is safe.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw that it was Yuri.
"Peter-chan?"
Why!!! Why Peter-chan? Why not Peter-kun?!!! Is it because of age?!!! Curses!!!
"Miss Watanabe. What are you doing here?"
"I can ask you the same thing," she replied.
I explained that the thief was heading toward Uncle Ben's car, assuming he would steal it. Of course he would. I stopped it.
Flint confessed and turned himself in. As for the thief? Police were puzzled as to why he was paralyzed.
Funny, I thought it was only temporary. Oh well. At least he won't be stealing anymore.
A week passed, and things went back to normal. I was enjoying my teenage life with Gwen. Uncle Ben's fate had been overturned.
I'm relieved.
"Hey, Petey, why are we standing in front of this building again?" Gwen asked, tilting her head. She had decided to follow me when she noticed me taking a bus to New York City.
"My only answers can be found here, Gwen."
"And this building is...?" Said Gwen.
"The Sanctum Sanctorum."
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Chapter 11 — End.