The cool night air swept across the rooftops of New York City as Ben Reily stood on the edge of a crumbling brick building, his heart pounding in rhythm with the distant hum of the city. The makeshift red-and-blue hoodie clung tightly to his frame, the white spider emblem hastily spray-painted across his chest. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at the sprawling city below, its streets pulsing with life.
He took a deep breath. "Alright… I got this."
His voice wavered just a little, but determination burned behind his piercing gray eyes beneath the mask.
Ben adjusted the hood of his suit, stepping closer to the edge. He looked down, the streetlights glittering like stars far beneath him. His fingers twitched nervously. This was it—his first real patrol as Spider-Man.
He exhaled slowly. "It's… a leap of faith," he whispered, more to himself than anyone.
Without another thought, he launched himself off the building in a graceful dive, flipping through the air like an acrobat. The wind roared in his ears, adrenaline surging through his veins. For a moment, he was weightless—a bird with no wings, falling toward the earth.
Then—thwip!
A web shot from his wrist, connecting to a nearby building. He felt the familiar pull of tension as the line stretched, launching him forward like a slingshot.
"WOOOOOOO!" he yelled, exhilarated.
Ben swung effortlessly through the city, weaving between skyscrapers, flipping over rooftops, and soaring past glowing neon signs. The rush was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He wasn't just Ben Reily anymore—he was Spider-Man.
Landing smoothly on a rooftop, he pulled his mask up just enough to catch his breath, his face flushed with excitement. "That was awesome! And definitely not terrifying… at all."
Before he could celebrate further, a distant whoop-whoop of a blaring alarm echoed through the city streets. His eyes snapped toward the sound. Across the street, flashing red-and-blue lights illuminated a nearby bank as civilians scattered in panic.
Ben's pulse quickened. "Showtime."
He yanked his mask back down and swung toward the bank, landing silently on the side of the building like a spider stalking its prey. He crept toward one of the large front windows and peered inside. Five armed men, all wearing ski masks, were barking orders at terrified hostages.
Ben clenched his jaw. "Five of them… all armed… not great."
He scanned the building, eyes landing on a rusted air vent near the rooftop. "That'll work."
Inside the bank the gang of robbers worked quickly, stuffing cash into large duffel bags while keeping their weapons trained on the frightened civilians huddled on the floor.
"Move faster!" one of them barked.
Suddenly, a faint metallic clink echoed from above. The robber nearest the back hallway frowned, glancing toward the ceiling.
"You hear that?"
Before he could investigate further, a pair of web-shooters hissed from the darkness, wrapping tightly around his chest. He was yanked upward into the vent, disappearing with a muffled thud.
The other robbers looked around, confused.
"Hey… where's Jerry?" one asked.
Ben crouched inside the cramped vent, heart pounding. He muttered under his breath, "Well… that wasn't as quiet as I hoped."
He peeked through the vent's slats, seeing the remaining four robbers now grouped together, more on edge. His mind raced, searching for a distraction. That's when he spotted an old fire extinguisher mounted near the far wall.
"Perfect."
The robbers fanned out cautiously. One of them waved his gun toward the bank vault. "Go check it out."
Before anyone could move, the fire extinguisher erupted in a thick cloud of smoke, filling the room with dense, choking fog.
"What the—?!"
Thwip!
A web shot through the smoke, snatching the nearest robber by the chest and yanking him straight into a wooden desk with a bone-rattling crash.
Ben burst from the ceiling in a spinning somersault, landing smoothly on the ground. "Hey guys, is this a bad time?"
The robbers whirled toward him, guns raised—
Thwip! Thwip!
Two webs shot from Ben's wrists, anchoring to the floor behind him. With a mighty pull, he launched himself forward, driving his knee into the second robber's chest and sending him flying into a wall.
The remaining two hesitated—but not for long. One lunged forward with a wild swing, but Ben ducked, delivering a brutal uppercut that sent the man flying. In one fluid motion, he spun around and fired a web at the last robber's gun, yanking it away before sending a powerful kick to his chest.
Both men collapsed in a heap, groaning in pain.
Breathing hard, Ben surveyed the scene. The civilians stared in stunned silence, too terrified—or too amazed—to move.
Ben smiled under his mask and quickly webbed all five robbers together, tying them up like a bundle of firewood. He spotted a nearby notebook on the teller's desk and tore out a page, scribbling something down quickly before sticking the note to the nearest robber's chest.
"Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
With that, he vanished into the night.
Later That Night — Johnny's Apartment
Ben swung through the open window of Johnny's small apartment, landing with practiced ease. He yanked his mask off, still riding the high of adrenaline.
Johnny was glued to the TV, where a breaking news report was playing:
"New York's newest hero, dubbed Spider-Man, has already captured a group of armed robbers in a daring bank heist earlier this evening…"
Johnny slowly turned, eyes wide. "DUDE."
Ben dropped onto the couch, grinning like a madman. "DUDE!"
Together, they both yelled, "DUDEEEEE!" and launched into their signature handshake.
"This definitely calls for a celebration," Johnny declared, already grabbing sodas from the fridge.
Ben leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Hell yeah."
Meanwhile…
In a dimly lit, opulent office overlooking the New York skyline, a tall, imposing figure in a crisp white suit watched the same news broadcast. The massive man slowly turned in his leather chair, his cold eyes fixed on Spider-Man's image splashed across the TV screen.
Wilson Fisk—better known as Kingpin—picked up a copy of the Daily Bugle from his desk. The headline read:
"SPIDER-MAN: HERO OR MENACE?"
He sneered and tossed the paper aside.
"No more heroes in my city," he growled. "Find out everything about Spider-Man… and bring him to me."
Elsewhere in New York…
A dark, run-down apartment sat in silence. An old, grizzled man nursed a half-empty bottle of whiskey as he watched the same news report. His haunted eyes lingered on Spider-Man's image.
With a resigned sigh, he set the bottle down and walked to a loose floorboard. Pulling it free, he reached inside and retrieved a worn, battle-scarred vest with a white skull painted across the front.
"Looks like we need to have a little talk, Spider-Man."