The rooftop is cold. The edges of Greenwich Village, where the gusts up here are always cold. "I just need to get loose," Peter thinks to himself. He stretches his muscles.
The foot traffic on the streets below him is getting slight. These are the stragglers coming home from the acoustic bars and the coffee shops.
Likely high on cannabis or hashish.
Easy pickings.
"I'll feel better when I've kicked some ass," he thinks, and frowns at himself behind his mask. He knows it's true. There's nothing better after a day of being called "Puny Parker" by Flash and the rest than to prove how powerful he is.
By saving the day and protecting innocent citizens, of course.
Sometimes, he wonders what he would ever do if street crime gets under control. How will he get his ya-yas out after that?
Funny, he thinks of Uncle Ben, venting his frustrations one evening into a punching bag down in the small house's basement. A large, patched bodywork bag, hanging from an exposed rafter.
There was a time when Ben used to go down there after arguments with Aunt Mae. She said it was good for him to get some exercise, at least. Peter had that specific memory, held it in his head and his heart, and suddenly on that rooftop, his frown turned into a grin.
"Got it from you, Uncle Ben," he thinks to himself. "So it can't be all that bad of an instinct."
"You're damn right, Peter," he hears his Uncle say in his mind. "Now let's go kick some ass!"
The spider-sense tingles.
This couple that he's been watching out of the corner of his eye, as they stumble out of the most popular bar for jetting hijacked from, right there on the corner. They wobble up the block and start crossing the street into the parts of the Village where there are fewer streetlights.
And someone in dark clothing with a hat obscuring his face, has noticed.
And is following, discreetly behind the intoxicated couple.
And now so is Peter. Discreet, roof to roof. Only having to jump, here. Peter likes the Village for just that reason. Left over from the Little Old New York days, narrow streets that he can simply jump across, no-need for web-slinging.
Plus, that Daredevil guy seems to have the corner on the market for cracking bad-guy skulls a few miles north of here. It's good for Peter to take these regular rounds downtown here around Washington Square Park.
Spidey jumps over buildings, behind which is the epic skyline of midtown Manhattan, and between the streets is the Washington Arch several blocks away in that Washington Square Park. Watching and waiting. No matter how suspicious it looks, he cannot intervene before an actual crime has been committed!
But, it's his caution and his commitment to justice and the American Way that lets Spider-Man stay on the streets, and lets Peter Parker keep serving his community, and they both know it!
Luckily or unluckily, it does not take too long.
The flash of a knife, faint in the distance unless you've got heightened senses the result of a bizarre radioactive spider bite, the fateful accident at the Science Hall in August of '62 that made Peter the Spider-Man he is today.
The scream of a woman--needing less heightened senses to hear. Spidey only hopes he's not too late as he drops into action.
Now there are two muggers, both with knives, held right on the couple. Close.
"You know if you stab them, then I don't have to pull my punches with you!" Spidey tells the bad guys, so he can catch his breath while they still have their backs turned to him.
"Oh shit!"
"It's him!"
"You said he didn't work downtown! You said he only worked Morningside Heights now!"
"Oh shit!"
The two muggers have turned around and they have see the red and blue. So bright. So terrifying.
"I know," Spider-Man tells them. "You wish I were an actual spider."
The muggers start to run, but that's not good enough. Not tonight.
First, he turns to the would-be victims: "Get home safe now, folks, how far is it?" Spider-Man asks the taller of the two almost-mugged beatniks.
"J-just up here, Spider-Man."
"Okay. Holler if you get into any more trouble."
"W-will do."
Spidey sees the two would-be muggers have turned into an alley. Exactly as he hoped. Someplace nobody will be watching.
"Have a good night," Spidey says, using his web to propel him up and around the corner at break-neck speed.
"Oh shit, I thought he was totally gonna bust us for the reefer," Spidey hears one of the people he saved say, and Spidey smiles. He's not that uncool, he thinks to himself. Plants are harmless, and good for people in the right doses.
Those two muggers are making him chase, and he likes that, even if he knows he is going to punish them for it.
They know where they are going, they are about to open the door to a basement off of the trash-filled alleyway, but Spider-Man beats them to it.
"Don't leave the party too early, fellas. I see you've brought your cutlery!" They still have their knives in their hands.
They notice that. But rather than attack, they throw their knives away into the alley.
"Awww, come on now, children could pick those up," Spidey quips maliciously. This alley is pure trash cans and dumpsters. No children have played here since the Dutch owned Manhattan.
The would-be muggers turn away to run, but it's too late for them.
Spidey moves quickly, trips one of them, who falls hard to the ground at Spidey's feet. The other he grabs by the collar and tosses to the side of the alley, away from where he and his buddy just tossed their knives. "Now I'm going to have to find those knives," Spidey tells them. "But first!"
He picks up the one on the ground.
There's begging. There's pleading. "Awww, lights out." Spidey pulls the punch, but he knows by now, after a solid year and more on the job, just the right amount of force to use, as he thinks of it. No broken nose, but a quick nap.
Out the criminal goes.
The other one is scrambling on his hands and knees, trying to crawl out of the alley. A swift kick and Spidey has his opponent splayed and defeated. Too immobile from the broken ribs to fight any further. His body in shock. Something similar to what he had been prepared to dish out to a stranger not a minute before, Peter thinks.
Score one for the good guys.
