The jewelry store erupted in chaos.
A hulking figure metallic, monstrous, and glinting under the dim security lights stalked through the aisles. His armor clanked with each heavy step, a biomechanical monstrosity that seemed part man, part machine. He was Mac Gargan and he moved with purpose. A thick, scorpion-like tail coiled behind him, crackling with arcs of blue electricity, poised like a cobra ready to strike.
He raised a clawed pincer, as long as a surfboard and twice as sharp, and drove it through the vault door.
SCREEEEEECH—BOOM!
The vault burst open like a peeled sardine can, revealing rows of glistening diamonds and gold-laced necklaces.
"They said Spider-Man was just a punk in tights," Scorpion growled, his voice modulated and warped through the filter of his helmet. "Let's see if that's true."
Suddenly—
CRASH!
A web-line snapped across the room, yanking an entire glass display case off the wall and slamming it into Scorpion's flank. The hulking villain stumbled back with a roar, his armor sparking from the impact.
From above, a voice echoed:
"Punk in tights? Ouch. Hurt my feelings, man. And this suit's custom. Got it on Etsy."
Spider-Man swung into view, dangling upside down from a web-line looped around one ankle, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.
Nathan pointed dramatically. "Wow. Nice cosplay. Cyber-scorpion meets 'Fallout' extra?"
Scorpion let out a furious snarl. His tail snapped upward like a whip, striking toward Nathan like a coiled viper.
BOOM! The tail missed Nathan but shattered a concrete column behind him, dust and debris raining down.
"Geez! Overcompensating much?" Nathan flipped behind a marble counter. "Bet your Tinder bio says 'six-foot-four, mostly tail.'"
Scorpion bellowed and charged forward, ripping through display cases and fixtures like they were made of cardboard. His claws lashed out. Nathan ducked, web-zipped across the ceiling, and fired web-shots that bounced harmlessly off the villain's thick armor.
"You got a manual for that thing?" Nathan quipped. "Or did you skip straight to the 'destroy everything' section?"
"I didn't come here to talk. I came to capture you," Scorpion snarled.
"Aww, I'm flattered. But I usually prefer dinner first."
Scorpion roared and hurled a hunk of floor tile like a discus. Nathan leapt, webbing to a chandelier that swung precariously from the impact.
As the light fixture rocked back and forth, Nathan dangled, tapping the side of his mask.
"Okay. Note to self: armored freak with electric tail and anger issues? Not here for a cuddle."
With a crackling hiss, Scorpion's tail lit up with plasma energy and fired a pulse bolt. It sizzled past Nathan's head, incinerating a wall and sending sparks flying.
"Okay! Okay! You're mad! Let's unpack that," Nathan said, flipping behind the villain and firing web-lines that wrapped around Scorpion's tail. He anchored them to a steel beam.
Scorpion tugged hard and the ceiling groaned as it tore free, raining chunks of plaster everywhere.
Nathan dropped to the ground in front of him, fists raised like a boxing coach. "Round two! Ding ding!"
Scorpion lunged. Nathan ducked low and slapped a web bomb to his chest. It exploded in a burst of sticky foam, briefly staggering the armored menace.
"That's it!" Scorpion roared. "No more games!"
He grabbed Nathan mid-flip by the ankle and slammed him through a display case.
Glass shattered. Nathan hit the floor hard, coughing. "Ow. You fight like a dishwasher on steroids."
Scorpion loomed, one claw raised for the knockout strike but Nathan, even through the haze of pain, fired a quick web-shot into the vents of Scorpion's helmet.
Sparks sputtered as the intake clogged. Scorpion stumbled, the HUD in his helmet glitching out.
"You really gotta clean out those filters," Nathan muttered.
He launched upward with a web-line, circled the villain's arms in heavy webs, and yo-yoed off the ceiling to deliver a full double-footed kick to the chest.
CRASH! Scorpion crashed to the marble floor, stunned.
Sirens screamed outside. Police lights flashed red and blue through the ruined storefront.
Nathan stood over him, brushing glass off his shoulders. "Next time you rob a jewelry store, maybe wear something less 'War Machine meets tactical Snuggie.'"
Scorpion groaned.
"And for the record…" Nathan webbed through the broken skylight above, "Tights are breathable."
He vanished into the day.
Hours later, the bell rang at Midtown High. Nathan dragged himself into his last class, his ribs still sore from his throwdown with Scorpion.
The room was half-empty. A few kids scrolled their phones. Others doodled in notebooks.
No teacher.
Then the principal walked in, clipboard in hand.
"Class, Mr. Johnson's unfortunately taken ill and won't be returning for the rest of the semester. But we've arranged a substitute teacher. Please welcome…"
A pair of red heels clicked across the tile. A tall, stunning red-haired woman in a black pencil skirt stepped through the door.
"My name is Natalie Rushman," she said with a perfect smile.
Nathan froze.
No. Freaking. Way.
It was her. Natasha Romanoff. The spy. The one who'd broken into his room. The one who tried to recruit him.
She looked right at Nathan and winked.
He choked on his spit.
After class, as the students filed out, Natasha's voice called casually, "Mr. Drake? Could you stay a moment?"
He gulped.
Once the door closed, Nathan walked up to her desk. "Ms. Natasha uh, Natalie what are you doing here?"
Natasha leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "My boss wants someone keeping an eye on you for a while. So, here I am."
Nathan looked around, lowered his voice. "Is this really necessary?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say you attract attention."
Then, casually: "Who knows about your identity?"
Nathan hesitated. He thought about Peter, about how much danger this life already brought him into. Finally, he said, "Just you. And your boss, I guess."
Natasha nodded. "Good. Keep it that way."
"Can I go now?"
"Sure," she said, grabbing a stack of folders. "But don't skip any homework. Especially in spycraft."
Nathan left, nerves buzzing.
Outside, Peter was waiting near his locker. "Hey, what'd the new sub want?"
Nathan glanced around. Then yanked Peter into the nearest janitor closet.
"Okay, I'm not crazy. That sub? She's a spy. A real one."
Peter blinked. "You serious?"
"She works for a government team. She was at my house after the Expo and she knows I'm Spider-Man. She's trying to recruit me into some group. Avengers something."
Peter's jaw dropped. "Wait Avengers? That's, sounds legit."
"I know. But why is it always a janitor closet I pull you into?"
Peter wrinkled his nose. "It smells like bad decisions in here."
Elsewhere, at a dimly lit police station, Mac Gargan walked out the front doors, flanked by two suited men.
He slid into the back of a sleek, black SUV.
Waiting in the shadows was Norman Osborn.
Mac grunted. "He's stronger than I thought. And annoying. Like a bug."
Norman's lips curled into a cold smile. "Good. That means the upgrades are working. But patience, Mr. Gargan. We'll find the perfect moment to trap the spider."
In a cluttered garage, the hiss of a blowtorch echoed.
A man in a welding helmet bent over two metal gauntlets, sparks flying as he worked. He tightened bolts, adjusted circuits, and then finally removed his helmet.
Herman Schultz.
He held up the gauntlets and they were bulky, brutal machines with glowing nodes and humming motors.
He slid his arms into them. The power surged.
They lit up with raw energy.
A woman's voice called from another room. "Herman! Dinner's ready!"
"I'm coming!" he shouted back.
He took the gauntlets off, placing them carefully in a worn duffel bag.
Then he picked up a photo with a smiling woman and a young boy and stared at it for a long moment.
He whispered, "After tomorrow… we'll never have to struggle again."