When people look up into the buildings and rooftops they walk between every day, they see me: a guy hanging upside down in his spandex on the underside of a gargoyle.
A young man was perched upside down overlooking the streets of New York, New York.
He was dressed in a red and blue outfit, draped with a web pattern over his chest.
Perfectly normal, right?
People walking on the sidewalk looked upwards and saw him. Some smiled, some gasped, some just stared.
The Daily Bugle, nuzzled safely under most of their arms, was the number one source for news in the fair city of New York, and, as usual, a picture of the masked man hanging upside down beneath the gargoyle was on the cover.
Right.
In a split-second, Spider-Man dropped, gracefully falling through the air. His motions were rooted almost on instinct now, and he moved with unsurpassed agility.
But, hey, for a kid who's gone toe-to-toe with maniacal billionaires, aliens, and psychotic six-armed doctors, anything goes.
Sirens rang in the distance, and he extended his wrist as he fell. Contorting his fingers, he pressed down on a mechanism in the palm of his hand.
Here we go again.
THWIP!
Webbing rocketed out of his wrist, and stuck to the side of a building, pulling taught.
Lights from police cars blazed up avenues, as Spider-Man swung high in the night's sky, only a few blocks away.
How typical. The masked hero thought to himself, firing several more weblines out ahead of him.
He heaved downwards on a web, soaring several stories higher. The webbing swirled around him as he flew upwards towards the peaks of the skyscrapers.
The police below him weaved in and out of traffic as they rushed towards an erraticaly driving vehicle.
Time to go to work!
Within seconds, Spider-Man was a mere two stories above the ground, fifty feet above cheering civilians.
"Don't mind me folks, just saving a few lives." He jested, waving a few times.
"Now, watch me do my Spider-thing."
Spider-thing? He hissed inside his own head.
Parker, you've gotta come up with catchphrases that aren't so suggestive.
A tingling sensation crept down Spider-Man's neck as he glared at the speeding vehicle.
From the rear passenger seat, a man leaned out quickly, brandishing a shotgun.
Oboy. Spider-Man thought.
The gun fired and echoed through the streets, but none of the shot hit Spider-Man; he had already allowed his reflexes to take over, and he was rolling through the air with ease.
With a thud, he landed on the trunk of the car, face-to-face with the man who had just tried to kill him.
"Come on, now." He quipped, firing a shot of webbing into the man's face.
"Didn't you get the 'you'll shot yer eye out!' speech when you were younger?"
He gripped the goon's collar and heaved him out of the seat of the car, tossing him onto the sidewalk in a cocoon of webbing like a lifeless doll.
"Huh." He said, peeking into the car through the rear windshield.
"Guess he didn't get that speech as a youth."
The driver, now more panicky than ever, slowly started mounting the curb to avoid traffic.
Time to put a stop to this, Spidey. Peter Parker thought to himself.
And fast.
He ducked out of sight, crawling onto the undercarriage of the racing car.
"Hiya, axle." He said, nodding at the bar between the two rear wheels.
"Where's Slash? Rehab again?"
THWIP!
"Such a shame."
The tires screeched as all of the car's power and momentum suddenly stopped.
A lamppost was conviently in the path of the car, stopping it, and the driver, from evading the police any more.
Spider-Man withdrew a camera from his belt and tossed it to a nearby woman, whose jaw was hanging.
"Do ya mind, miss?" He said, hanging upside down in front of the unconsious driver's window.
"Say 'cheese!'" Spider-Man said to the unconscious goon.
The flashbulb went off, and Spider-Man hopped down from the web, taking the camera from the shocked woman and placing it back in his belt.
"Thanks!" He said.
The police arrived on the soon a few seconds later, and barreled out of their vehicles.
One officer sprinted up to Spider-Man, now sticking to a nearby wall.
"Thanks, Spider-Man." He said, relieved.
"We owe you one over at the 22nd precinct."
"Well, I don't think they'll be giving you too much trouble from now on." Spider-Man replied, gesturing to the car and the cocoon a few blocks away.
A clock tower echoed in the distance, and Spider-Man glanced about.
"I have to get going, officer."
"Off so soon?" The cop asked.
"My biology homework won't do itself." Peter Parker replied, as his mouth pulled into a smile behind his mask.
"Biology?" The sergeant muttered under his breath.
"Well, thanks again!"
"Don't mention it, sir." Spider-Man called, firing a webline out into the canyons of steel and mortar.
"After all... it's all in a day's work for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
