The night air was cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the harbor. Peter adjusted the hood of his worn sweatshirt, the fabric tugging slightly against his hair. His breath puffed visibly in the chilled air as he stood atop a stack of shipping containers, surveying the sprawling Oscorp storage facility below.
Earlier that day, Harry's offhand comment lingered in Peter's mind. "Dad's got shipments moving through the harbor facility constantly. If Toomes is after Oscorp tech, that's where I'd look next." It wasn't much, but it was enough. Peter had spent the rest of the afternoon combing through Oscorp's database—accessing it from the school's library under the guise of working on a project. The activity logs aligned with Harry's guess. Something big was being stored at the harbor.
Now, here he was, standing in the biting cold, waiting for something to happen.
On the far side of the facility, Captain George Stacy crouched behind a patrol car, peering through binoculars. His team had spread out, securing the perimeter and scanning for any unusual activity.
"We've got word from Oscorp about another potential hit," Stacy murmured to his lieutenant, his voice low but firm. "Keep your eyes sharp. If Toomes shows up, I want him alive."
His lieutenant nodded, moving off to relay the orders. Stacy's gaze lingered on the dark expanse of the harbor. Something about tonight felt off—quieter than it should be, like the city was holding its breath.
Peter crouched low, his fingers gripping the edge of the container. His eyes darted between the guards patrolling the facility and Captain Stacy's officers positioned near the main gate. Gotta stay out of sight, he thought, pulling his hood tighter.
A flash of movement caught his eye—a worker moving between stacks of crates, nervously glancing over his shoulder. Peter's heart skipped. This is it.
He slipped down from the container, his footsteps light as he moved closer to the action. His senses were on high alert, his muscles coiled like springs. As he approached, he froze. A figure loomed in the shadows ahead, its posture confident and deliberate.
"Hey!" a deep voice called out.
Peter's breath hitched as he turned slowly. Captain Stacy stood a few yards away, his gun holstered but his hand hovering near it. The glow from a nearby floodlight cast long shadows across his sharp features.
"You're not supposed to be here," Stacy said, his tone measured. "Turn around. Now."
Peter's mind raced. I can't let him see my face. He turned his back to Stacy, his hood still up, and spoke, pitching his voice lower. "Just… looking for someone. I'll leave."
Stacy's eyes narrowed. "Stay where you are."
The Captain stepped closer, but Peter's instincts kicked in. He bolted to the left, weaving between containers and leaping onto a low stack. Stacy gave chase, shouting after him.
"Stop!" Stacy's voice was firm, commanding.
Peter scrambled up another container, pulling himself to the top with practiced ease. He glanced back briefly, ensuring Stacy only caught the sight of his hooded figure before dropping down on the other side.
"Damn it!" Stacy muttered as he lost sight of the intruder.
The brief encounter left Stacy uneasy. The way the figure moved—quick, calculated, almost inhuman—nagged at him. He shook his head, muttering, "Who the hell are you?"
The quiet was shattered by a deafening explosion. The roof of the main storage building buckled inward as Adrian Toomes descended, his wings slicing through the air like razors. The thrusters on his suit roared, scattering workers as he landed in the center of the chaos.
"This is the cost of betrayal!" Toomes bellowed, his voice amplified by the suit's built-in speakers. His wings flared, the edges glowing with an eerie blue energy.
Peter, now perched on a nearby crane, watched in horror. I've got to stop him.
Peter swung into action, firing a web toward the closest worker to pull them out of harm's way. His movements were clumsy, his web-line nearly missing its target. He cursed under his breath, adjusting mid-swing and landing hard on the ground.
"Get out of here!" Peter yelled, his voice hoarse. Workers scrambled toward the exits, some stopping to stare at the hooded figure who had appeared out of nowhere.
Toomes spotted Peter immediately. "You again," he growled, his wings flaring. "Stay out of my way, kid, unless you want to end up like the rest of them."
Peter's heart pounded as he dodged a swipe from Toomes' wings, the energy humming ominously close. He fired a web at the wing's edge, pulling himself upward and delivering a quick kick to Toomes' chest. The blow barely fazed him.
"You're a pest!" Toomes snarled, swiping again. Peter ducked, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of a wing.
Captain Stacy and his team stormed the facility, weapons drawn. "Move in!" he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Peter froze, spotting Stacy in the distance. I can't let him see me. He darted behind a stack of crates, using the shadows to stay hidden as the officers closed in.
Toomes unleashed a blast from his wings, sending several officers sprawling. Peter clenched his fists. I've got to help them, but… they can't know it's me.
He fired a web, pulling a collapsing beam away from an officer's path. Stacy caught the movement from the corner of his eye but couldn't identify the source.
Amid the chaos, Toomes grabbed a glowing container marked Advanced Energy Cells. He activated his thrusters, shooting into the sky with a trail of smoke and fire.
"No!" Peter shouted, firing a web after him, but it fell short. He slammed his fist against the ground, frustration boiling over.
Stacy and his team regrouped, but the damage was done. Peter watched from the shadows as the officers tended to the injured, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.
As the dust settled, Peter stood at the top of a nearby crane, his chest heaving as he gazed out at the harbor. The destruction below was overwhelming, but determination flared in his eyes.
"I wasn't ready," he muttered, clenching his fists tightly, his knuckles whitening. "But I can't let this keep happening. I won't."
Peter turned, his enhanced reflexes guiding him as he leapt from the crane to a nearby stack of shipping containers. His landing was precise, his knees bending to absorb the impact. Without hesitation, he sprinted across the container tops, his movements swift and fluid. He vaulted over gaps, scaled towering stacks, and darted through the maze of metal crates, his agility and parkour skills carrying him effortlessly through the industrial terrain.
Each leap and bound fueled his resolve. The city loomed in the distance, its glowing skyline a reminder of the people he needed to protect. As Peter disappeared into the shadows, his feet pounding against the rooftops and concrete, the thought lingered in his mind:
The fight is far from over.