As the sun began to rise the next morning, the quiet hum of the city streets filled the air once again. The night had been uneventful in terms of major crime busts, but the underlying tension was palpable. For Peter, it was just another day of keeping the streets of New York safe—albeit with a little more on his plate than usual. For Ethan, however, today marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life.
He had thought he was just a guy who got caught up in some bad circumstances, someone looking for answers. But now, he was more than that. He was a force in the city's fight against the criminal underworld, and he had a part to play in taking down the man who had ruined his life.
In the dimly lit apartment that Peter called home, Gwen Stacy was already up and sipping her coffee as she looked over some papers at the kitchen table. She smiled when she saw Ethan walk in, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. Ethan had been quieter than usual since the conversation with Peter last night, and she could tell he was still processing everything.
"Hey, you okay?" Gwen asked, setting her cup down and crossing the room to join him.
Ethan managed a small smile, though it was laced with exhaustion. "Yeah, just thinking. You know, I never imagined my life would turn out like this. One minute, I'm a normal guy, and the next, I'm being thrown into the middle of a fight with Kingpin and trying to figure out how to adapt to powers I didn't even ask for."
Gwen placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're handling it better than you think. Peter and I—we're both here for you. Whatever comes next, you don't have to face it alone."
Ethan nodded, feeling a small flicker of warmth in his chest. He had made the right choice, staying with Peter and Gwen. They weren't just helping him out of obligation; they genuinely cared. He might have been thrust into this new life unwillingly, but with them by his side, he could face whatever came next.
"I appreciate it," Ethan said softly. "You both have no idea how much it means to me."
Peter's voice called out from the hallway as he entered the kitchen. "Hey, I've been thinking. We can't just keep chasing down these leads without knowing exactly where we're going. We need to make a real plan."
Ethan glanced over at Peter. "You're right. We've been moving on instinct so far. But we need to be smarter about this. I don't want to end up like my parents. I need to make sure Kingpin can't hurt anyone else."
Peter nodded. "I think we can start by figuring out who we can trust. I've got a few people in mind, but first, we should hit up a few spots where Kingpin's men are known to do business. If we can shake things up a bit, maybe we can get a lead."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You really think it's that simple?"
Peter flashed her a grin. "We've got Spider-Man and someone who can adapt to anything. I'd say we have a fighting chance."
Ethan snorted. "Just don't expect me to start using my powers like some kind of unstoppable juggernaut. I'm still figuring out the whole 'not getting myself killed' part."
Peter laughed. "Yeah, well, let's make sure we avoid the 'getting killed' part. But hey, if you do decide to start wrecking people, I call dibs on watching."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "I swear, sometimes you two are like a couple of kids who just discovered their first superpower."
Ethan grinned at Gwen's comment, and for the first time since he had arrived in this world, he felt a little lighter. Maybe he wasn't completely lost after all.
"Alright, so here's the plan," Peter continued, sitting down at the table and pulling out a map of the city. "We're going to start with Fisk's money man. He's the one who keeps the operation running. If we can get to him, we can start chipping away at Kingpin's empire."
Ethan nodded, mentally preparing for what was ahead. The plan was straightforward, but nothing was ever as easy as it seemed in the world of crime-fighting. There would be dangers, of course. But with Peter and Gwen by his side, maybe this time, it would be different.
Peter looked at Ethan with a grin. "You in?"
Ethan took a deep breath, his body still adjusting to the changes, but his resolve firming up. He had a purpose now, a reason to keep fighting. He wasn't just some guy in over his head. He was a hero in the making.
"Yeah," Ethan said, his voice steady. "I'm in."
And with that, the next phase of their plan began.
The city felt alive that day, its usual energy pulsing through the streets as Ethan and Peter made their way toward the heart of the operation. Gwen had stayed behind to work on some legal matters for Peter's app, leaving the two of them to work their magic in the field.
Ethan wasn't used to the hustle of city life—the constant motion, the people rushing by, the constant hum of distant conversations—but he was beginning to find his rhythm. Each swing through the city, each rooftop he landed on, was another step toward getting closer to his goal.
But today, he wasn't just swinging aimlessly. Today, they were going after someone important.
Peter glanced over at Ethan. "So, what's the game plan once we get to the guy? You think he's going to go down easy?"
Ethan shot Peter a look. "In this city? I'm not expecting anything easy."
Peter laughed. "Fair enough. Just making sure we're on the same page."
As they approached their destination, Ethan's mind wandered back to the night before. His conversation with Peter had been heavy, but it had also opened up something inside him—something that had been buried beneath all the anger and pain. The promise of friendship, of a future where he wasn't alone in his quest for justice, gave him hope.
For the first time in a long while, he felt like he might actually have a chance at getting justice for his parents. And maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that no one else had to suffer the way they had.
The two of them perched on the rooftop of a mid-rise building across from a high-end café in Manhattan. The place wasn't just any regular coffee shop—it was one of Fisk's many fronts, a seemingly normal establishment that laundered money for his criminal empire.
Inside, sitting at the corner table near the window, was Leonard Calhoun—Fisk's financial guy. He was a balding, slightly overweight man in his late forties, always dressed in tailored suits despite his unremarkable appearance. He wasn't a fighter, wasn't a criminal in the traditional sense, but he was arguably more important than most of Fisk's enforcers.
If Fisk's money stopped moving, so did his power.
Peter adjusted his mask. "Alright, so the guy orders a caramel macchiato every morning, sits in that same spot, and goes over whatever illegal numbers he's crunching for the day. If we grab him here, it'll cause a scene."
Ethan crossed his arms, scanning the street below. "So what's the play? We wait until he leaves?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah. I checked his routine. He gets picked up in a black Lexus every morning around 8:15 AM. That's in about five minutes. We can tail him and see where he goes."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You checked his routine? Just how long have you been stalking this guy?"
Peter scoffed. "It's called investigative journalism—or in this case, superhero due diligence."
Ethan smirked. "Right. And if Gwen asks, you totally weren't watching a grown man drink coffee for three days straight?"
Peter huffed. "Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds weird."
Ethan snickered but didn't press further.
Below, right on schedule, the black Lexus pulled up. The driver, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a gray suit, stepped out and opened the door for Calhoun. The financial officer took his sweet time gathering his things before heading toward the car.
Ethan cracked his knuckles. "Alright, showtime."
The two of them leaped from the rooftop, keeping to the shadows as they tracked the car from above. The vehicle smoothly merged into traffic, heading toward the financial district.
Peter tapped the side of his mask. "Alright, I put a tracker under his car the other day. Let's see where he's headed today."
Ethan shot him a look. "The other day?"
Peter shrugged. "What? You think I just wing this stuff?"
Ethan smirked. "I know you wing most of it."
"Okay, fair."
They kept their pace, swinging from rooftop to rooftop as they followed the Lexus. It was a quiet morning in the city—well, as quiet as Manhattan ever got—but there was an unshakable tension in the air. Ethan could feel it deep in his gut.
Something was about to happen.
And it wasn't going to be pretty.
The black Lexus cruised through the financial district, weaving between yellow taxis and morning commuters. Ethan and Peter stayed high above, swinging from building to building with ease.
Peter's mask displayed a live tracker feed, showing the tiny blinking dot representing Calhoun's car. "He's heading toward Wall Street. Probably to one of Fisk's shell corporations."
Ethan scoffed. "Wall Street? That place already feels like a criminal empire. Fisk must feel right at home."
Peter snorted. "Honestly, I bet half the guys in those buildings would sell their souls for a good stock tip."
Ethan smirked. "Joke's on them. I don't have a soul to sell."
Peter turned his head mid-swing. "Wait—"
"I'M KIDDING!"
"…Right. Haha. Totally normal joke."
Ethan grinned. He was getting the hang of dark humor. Peter, however, was still figuring out how to respond to it.
The Lexus made a sharp turn, pulling into an underground parking garage beneath one of the taller office buildings. Ethan and Peter landed on the rooftop of the adjacent building, crouching near the edge as they watched.
Ethan tapped his chin. "So, what's the move? Do we sneak in and tail him, or—"
Before he could finish, Peter suddenly flicked his wrist, shooting a small web at the bumper of the Lexus. A tiny, nearly invisible tracking device latched onto the car.
"Okay, now we sneak in," Peter said, satisfied.
Ethan sighed. "You're way too prepared for this."
Peter grinned under his mask. "Comes with the job."
They climbed down the side of the building, slipping into an alleyway near the garage's entrance. As the metal security gate began to close, they dashed forward—Ethan rolling under it at the last second while Peter stuck to the ceiling.
Inside, the garage was dimly lit, the sound of idling engines echoing between concrete pillars. Security cameras dotted the area, but Peter's mask had already mapped out their blind spots.
Calhoun stepped out of the car, adjusting his suit as the driver whispered something to him. The man nodded, then made his way toward the elevator.
Peter leaned toward Ethan. "We should get closer—"
Before they could move, the driver suddenly turned, reaching for his earpiece. His eyes scanned the area, his expression sharp.
Ethan froze. "Shit. He's got good instincts."
Peter muttered, "Or he's paranoid as hell."
They ducked behind a parked car as the driver took a few cautious steps forward.
Ethan clenched his fists. If they got spotted now, things would get messy real fast.
And he had a feeling Fisk's men wouldn't just let them off with a warning.
Ethan held his breath as the driver slowly scanned the parking garage. The man wasn't just paranoid—he was experienced. His sharp eyes flicked across every shadow, his hand resting just under his jacket, no doubt ready to draw a weapon at the slightest sign of trouble.
Peter and Ethan remained perfectly still, crouched behind a sleek black SUV. The tension in the air was thick.
Peter whispered, "Okay, so plan B—if he spots us, I web him up before he gets a shot off."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And what if he does get a shot off?"
Peter hesitated. "Uh… you catch the bullet?"
Ethan sighed. "Great plan, genius."
The driver took another step forward, his brow furrowing. He was about to take a closer look when, suddenly—
RIIING!
His phone buzzed.
The man sighed, clearly irritated, and pulled it out. He hesitated before answering.
"Yeah?"
A pause.
"...No, everything's fine. Just a feeling."
Another pause.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be upstairs in a minute."
He hung up, shaking his head, and turned on his heel, walking back toward the elevator. Ethan and Peter waited until the doors slid shut before exhaling.
Peter gave Ethan a smug look. "See? Everything's fine."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Sure. Totally fine. We almost got caught because you wanted to play ninja."
Peter shrugged. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"
Ethan muttered, "One of these days, your luck's gonna run out."
"Maybe, but today's not that day."
Ethan just shook his head and focused back on the task at hand. "Alright, now that our little stealth check is over, how do we get inside without tripping the alarms?"
Peter grinned under his mask. "We use the Peter Parker Special."
Ethan crossed his arms. "Which is?"
Peter casually pointed up.
Ethan followed his gaze—and immediately realized what he meant.
The air vents.
"…You're kidding."
"Nope. Classic Spider-Man move."
Ethan groaned. "I swear, one day you're gonna get stuck in one of those, and I'm gonna be the one laughing."
Peter chuckled. "Fair. But until then, let's get moving."
With that, the two of them climbed up the nearest wall, slipping into the building's ventilation system like a pair of oversized raccoons.
Ethan sighed.
He really hoped this wasn't going to become a habit.
Crawling through vents was not Ethan's idea of a good time.
For one, they were hot as hell. The stale, recycled air was making his skin feel sticky, and every time Peter moved ahead of him, the metal groaned under their combined weight.
For another, it was cramped. Ethan was a bit taller and broader than Peter, and squeezing through narrow spaces was already annoying enough without the added bonus of possibly plummeting through the ceiling.
Peter, of course, was way too comfortable in this situation. He moved like he'd done this a thousand times—probably because he had.
Ethan muttered, "You really do this all the time?"
Peter whispered back, "Yep. Got stuck once. Not my proudest moment."
Ethan snorted. "Let me guess. You had to call for help?"
Peter hesitated. "…May or may not have had to web my phone down and call Gwen."
Ethan smirked. "Bet she never let you live it down."
"Oh, she definitely didn't."
They continued crawling, finally reaching a vent opening that overlooked a long hallway. Below them, two security guards stood near a large set of doors, chatting idly.
Peter tapped Ethan's shoulder. "Alright, we need to get past those guys."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Stealth, or do we knock 'em out?"
Peter hummed. "Let's try stealth first. No need to punch anyone if we don't have to."
Ethan grinned. "Boring. But fine."
Peter carefully unscrewed the vent cover, webbing it to the ceiling to avoid noise. He then motioned for Ethan to stay put before flipping down, sticking to the ceiling just above the guards.
Ethan watched as Peter pulled out a small device, a modified version of his web-shooters, and flicked it toward the far end of the hallway.
Click.
A small, flashing red light appeared near the opposite wall. A second later—
BZZZZT!
The lights flickered violently, followed by a loud crash as the sound system blasted static through the building's speakers.
The guards immediately tensed.
"The hell was that?" one of them muttered.
"Probably a glitch," the other sighed, rubbing his temple. "This place has been running like crap ever since Fisk switched to that new security software."
"You mean that cheap-ass system?"
"Yeah. Keeps freezing up."
The first guard groaned. "Man's a billionaire and he can't afford decent security?"
Ethan smirked. Even his own people think he's a cheap bastard.
The guards exchanged a glance before sighing. "I'll go check it out. Stay here."
As one of them walked off, Peter quickly webbed the other guard's mouth shut before he could react, then yanked him up into the vent opening.
Ethan barely managed to move in time before the poor guy was shoved into a corner, tied up with webs.
Peter whispered, "One down."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not a ninja?"
Peter grinned. "Only on weekends."
They peeked out of the vent again, watching as the second guard disappeared around the corner.
Peter gave Ethan a nod. "Let's move."
The two of them dropped down silently, landing just outside the double doors.
Beyond them was their real target—the place where Fisk's dirty money was being moved.
And inside… answers.
With the second guard still distracted down the hall, Peter and Ethan moved quickly. Peter pressed a small device against the electronic lock on the double doors—a handy little gadget Gwen had helped him refine. Within seconds, the lock clicked, and the doors slid open silently.
Ethan and Peter slipped inside, shutting the doors behind them.
The room was massive, lined with rows of servers humming with activity. A large central terminal stood at the far end, its multiple monitors displaying streams of encrypted data—accounts, transactions, offshore holdings… all of Fisk's dirty money being moved in real-time.
Ethan let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. This is better than I expected."
Peter moved to the terminal and cracked his fingers. "Alright, let's get what we need before security notices—"
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
A loud, shrill alarm cut through the air.
Ethan blinked. "You were saying?"
Peter groaned. "Great. Looks like we just tripped an internal alarm. We've got maybe five minutes before this place gets swarmed."
Ethan cracked his knuckles. "Plenty of time. Do your thing."
Peter plugged a drive into the system and began extracting data while Ethan kept watch. He could already hear footsteps rushing toward them.
Peter cursed under his breath. "Almost done… almost done…"
The doors burst open, and three armed guards stormed in.
Ethan smirked. "Showtime."
And just like that, the real fight began.