The warehouse loomed large in the quiet night, its rusted exterior giving off an eerie vibe. Ethan crouched on the roof, his black costume blending into the shadows. His heartbeat was steady, the adrenaline from his earlier encounter fading into a laser focus.
From his vantage point, he could see figures moving inside through the dirty windows. Crates were being unloaded from a truck parked just outside, the low hum of its engine the only sound in the stillness. The gang leader hadn't lied—this was a major operation.
Ethan couldn't shake the uneasy feeling crawling up his spine. It wasn't just the size of the operation that set him on edge; it was something more. Something darker. He tightened his fists, his gloves creaking softly as he exhaled a slow breath. He couldn't afford to hesitate.
"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Time to make a statement."
---
Ethan's mind raced as he pieced together a strategy. His Rapid Adaptability had been working overtime since his first fight, and now, he felt more in control of his powers than ever. But this wasn't just about using brute force or flashy moves. He needed to be smart.
Step one: isolate the criminals. If they were distracted, they'd be easier to take down one by one. Step two: figure out what they were transporting. If this was part of a bigger scheme, he needed to know who was pulling the strings. Step three: get out before the cops arrived. He wasn't ready for that kind of attention yet.
Simple. Effective. Ethan smirked beneath his mask. This was going to be fun.
With a flick of his wrist, Ethan sent a webline to the nearest window, silently pulling himself closer. He peered inside, counting at least a dozen men, all armed. Some were hauling crates, while others stood guard, their fingers twitching near their weapons.
His Spider-Sense flared faintly, warning him of a potential danger near the truck. Ethan shifted his gaze and spotted a man standing near the driver's side door. He was taller than the others, with a scar running down the side of his face and a heavy, reinforced vest covering his chest. Unlike the others, this guy didn't look like a hired thug. He looked like someone in charge.
"Great," Ethan whispered. "A mini-boss."
He couldn't take them all head-on, not yet. Instead, he silently crawled down the side of the building, landing just outside the truck. Staying low, he moved quickly, sticking to the shadows as he approached the scarred man. The hum of the truck's engine masked the sound of his footsteps.
One quick strike was all it took. Ethan grabbed the man from behind, webbing his mouth shut before he could call for help. A quick webline to the wall pinned him in place, his muffled screams going unnoticed by the rest of the crew.
"One down," Ethan muttered, stepping back into the shadows.
Ethan didn't wait for the rest to notice their missing leader. He swung up to the rafters, crouching above the group of thugs as they continued their work.
He fired his first web, hitting the lightbulb in the center of the room. The bulb shattered, plunging the warehouse into partial darkness.
"What the hell?" one of the thugs muttered, his voice sharp with tension.
Ethan didn't give them time to regroup. He leapt down, landing behind two of the men and webbing their feet together in a single motion. Before they could react, he yanked the webbing, sending them crashing to the floor.
"Spider?" another thug yelled, raising his weapon. He fired blindly into the shadows, the gunshots echoing in the cavernous space.
Ethan swung upward, avoiding the bullets with ease. He moved quickly, webbing the shooter's hands to his weapon and pulling it away. The thug yelped as the gun clattered to the ground, his hands stuck together like a bad craft project.
"Not quite a spider," Ethan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But close enough."
As the fight continued, Ethan's focus shifted to the crates. They were large, heavy, and unmarked—exactly the kind of thing you didn't want to end up in the wrong hands.
He webbed up another thug, pinning him to the wall before dropping down near one of the crates. Carefully, he pried it open, his enhanced strength making quick work of the nailed-down lid.
What he saw inside made his blood run cold.
Weapons. High-tech, military-grade, and definitely not the kind of thing a street gang should have access to. Some of the equipment looked experimental, with strange glowing components that hummed faintly.
"Who the hell are you working for?" Ethan muttered under his breath.
He didn't have time to dwell on the answer. His Spider-Sense flared again, this time stronger than before. He turned just in time to see a figure charging at him—a massive thug wielding a metal pipe.
Ethan ducked under the swing, his reflexes faster than the eye could follow. He countered with a sharp kick to the man's knee, sending him crumpling to the ground.
"Nice try," Ethan said, webbing the thug to the floor. "But maybe stick to something lighter next time.
The room was almost clear now, most of the thugs either unconscious or webbed to the walls. But Ethan's Spider-Sense was still buzzing, a low hum in the back of his mind that refused to fade.
He turned toward the truck, his eyes narrowing. The scarred man he'd pinned earlier was gone.
"Looking for me?" a voice growled.
Ethan spun around just in time to see the man rushing toward him, a knife glinting in his hand. This guy was faster than the others, more experienced. Ethan barely dodged the first swipe, rolling to the side as the knife slashed through the air.
"You think you're some kind of hero?" the man sneered, his movements fluid and precise. "You're just a kid in a costume."
Ethan didn't respond. He couldn't afford to. The man was good—better than anyone he'd faced so far. But Ethan was faster. Stronger. Smarter.
He waited for the next attack, timing his movements carefully. When the man lunged, Ethan sidestepped, grabbing his arm and twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the ground, and Ethan followed up with a web to the man's chest, pinning him to the side of the truck.
"Looks like you're out of moves," Ethan said, stepping back and catching his breath.
The man glared at him, but he didn't speak.
Ethan didn't need him to. The job was done. The thugs were subdued, the weapons secured, and the city just a little bit safer.
For now.
As the distant sound of sirens reached his ears, Ethan knew it was time to go. He fired a web to the ceiling, pulling himself upward and disappearing into the shadows.
The city might have given him a lame name, but tonight, the WebWarden had made his mark.