Added some more narration, elaborated the night. Hope this is better!

Thanks for reading the whole story, I'm glad this is one of the few I've actually finished! *fireworks*

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EPILOGUE

7:15 AM

Peter's Bedroom

He had waited until Aunt May was soundly asleep before jumping out his bedroom window, pulling on his mask before he swung through the air.

Peter was glad that the night was mostly uneventful with a surprisingly lack of super villains, because the entire time his stomach was acting up on him. He didn't think it was too big of a deal at first. The first burglar he took out was easy enough – just slamming both feet into the chest covered by a thin hoodie and sending the crook into a trashcan. Easy as pie.

But the next crime scene wasn't as…clean.

Spider-Man had seen the three criminals sprinting down an alley while a car alarm blared behind them. He dropped down, catching them in a dead end. The crooks turned and panicked, but they weren't very intimidating when their backs were against the wall. While the other two had fallen to their knees in surrender, the third charged at Spider-Man, as if the idiot thought that a superhero would be afraid of a guy in a black sweater and high tops. Really, a true gangster.

"You know, maybe you should just surrender," Spider-Man suggested, before the crook could make another poor life decision. "Just save yourself the trouble of getting the snot beat out of you. Common criminal courtesy."

The guy didn't listen, already half-way to him. Spider-Man caught the thief's fist with one hand and flipped the guy over his back. The thief smacked the ground with a satisfying thud. Spider-Man bent down to tie up the guy's wrists, but then his Spider Sense went off.

Spider-Man meant to turn around to fight off the incoming thug taking advantage of the hero's distraction, but right then a cramp decided that this would be the best time to pop up and try to get Spider-Man killed.

Pain shot through his abdomen. Oh, this isn't good, he thought. Spider-Man almost keeled over, then really did when he got a face full of knee to the jaw. He hit the ground. A foot planted itself on his shoulder. Spider-Man tried to shake it off, but the pain increased and he groaned, accidentally kicking the fallen guy in the face. The guy was promptly knocked out.

The feeling of a man's face connecting with his foot was pretty satisfying. The pain temporarily subsided and Spider-Man dodged a foot that was getting ready to make contact with his ribcage. He jumped back up, snapping a foot around the jaw of the thug standing over him and knocking the man to the ground. He groaned but didn't try to get back up.

Two down, one to go.

At first, when Spider-Man didn't immediately spot the last guy, he thought the thief might have ran away. But then he spotted the man trying to squeeze his fat butt through an open window. So Spider-Man decided to help him out and slingshot a trashcan lid in the fat thief's direction.

The rim of the lid smacked the man's rear. There was a yelp from the other side and the man fell through, probably landing on his face. But the man got back up just as quickly and dove deeper into the building.

As Spider-Man crawled through the open window (it wasn't nearly as small as the fat man made it to be), looking around for the escapee thief. They were in some sort of warehouse, filled with decrepit shelving and dusty lamps that probably hadn't been turned on in fifty years. It was dark, but it didn't take Spider-Man very long to find the criminal.

He was making all sorts of noises, banging into stuff and knocking over shelves in his attempt to run away. It was almost too easy for Spider-Man to have taken him down. Perhaps that's why he should have been more careful.

Spider-Man managed to creep up behind the guy, trying hard not to snicker when he got a good jump out of the criminal. "I thought the idea behind being a criminal was that you got away with illegal acts. You're not doing a very good job. Have you considered another profession? Window cleaning, perhaps? Or maybe a mailman. I heard they take postage pretty seriously nowadays."

"ARGH!" the guy almost jumped out of his extra large work boots. He whipped around and swung a tire iron around like a little schoolgirl who had an icky bug on her hand. "Get away from me, freak!"

"Oh, now that's not a very nice thing to say to a guy in a red and blue suit." Spider-Man had tossed him against the wall. "I mean, you don't know what I'm capable of, what kind of creepy powers I've got up my sleeve, how much of a jerk I can be to crooks like you. You're poking a sleeping dragon, bud. Not a good move. I bet you were the stupid one in your little posse of criminals, am I right?"

The man tried to get up and hit back, but without a tire iron he wasn't much a threat. Just a fat guy in a black mask. Spider-Man knocked his hand out of the way and planted a foot on his chest, propelling the man backwards. His back broke a rusty old pipe. That was perhaps the first thing Spider-Man should have thought of before doing that.

Hot steam blasted into Spider-Man's face, throwing him back. There was a resounding thwack! when the thug picked up a barrel and threw it at the hero, catching Spider-Man right across the chest.

A shelf full of cardboard boxes broke Spider-Man's fall. Several pointy corners bounced off his head, but Spider-Man quickly threw them off, boxes flying everywhere. For some reason, this crook was putting up a good fight. It was like Lady Fate was trying to screw around with Spider-Man. He never had to work this hard to take down petty criminals.

He groaned, massaging a new bruise on his forehead. "Ow. I mean – I meant to do that. Just giving you a sporting chance. Because you're kind of pathetic and all. Even for a lowlife felon who's going nowhere but the pound."

Fat Guy wasn't really appreciative of Spider-Man's mouth, which was a shame, really. "Well, you don't know what I'm capable of, either! The Big Man picked me himself!"

"The Big Man's losing his touch, then," the hero retorted, dodging another barrel and thwipping a rope of web at Fat Guy, getting him right across the face. The man cried out, scratching at the quickly drying substance, trying in vain to pull it off. "Sure, he's big and scary and gives me the heebie-jeebies, but that doesn't mean he doesn't make mistakes. Like you, for instance."

"MMRRRPPHHHGG!" the thug said.

"I'm glad you agree." Spider-Man grinned and knocked the guy out with a good, solid punch.

Spider-Man exited the warehouse. He left the three bandits hanging upside down a lamppost for the police to find, before swinging off back home to get some shut eye.

Slipping back in through the window, Spider-Man quickly shucked off his suit and got into some pajamas. He was careful to remain quiet, lest he woke up Aunt May and then have to explain why his window was open and a Spidey suit on his floor.

The cramps in his stomach had returned, but Peter was too exhausted for it to keep him up for long. He experienced bad dreams, of going to school is his Spider-Man suit, then in only his underwear, then going to school in his Spider-Man suit and his underwear.

Peter did not sleep well that night.

It could have been he ate something funny (curse those bananas!), or the fact he was still giddy from meeting Mary-Jane for the first time ever and totally not screwing up. It might have also been because he had to keep getting up to go to the bathroom every half-hour, suffering from some major indigestion, so that could be it, too.

Least to say, he wasn't a happy camper that morning, still groggy and aching from the night before. There was this weird crick in his neck that wouldn't go away. Maybe he pulled a muscle while sneaking out on one last patrol after supper…

His day lightened up, however, when he discovered a note in his jacket the next morning. It had fallen out when he put it on – it was folded neatly in half, the handwriting performed in impeccable cursive. He had never seen it before, but Peter knew exactly who it was from.

Obviously, Mary Jane's signature at the bottom kind of gave it away immediately.

Peter sported some new bruises from the earlier night. It was a pretty normal patrol, or as normal as patrols are for a web-slinging, wall-crawling superhero in a bright red and blue suit. Perhaps the only thing that really bothered him was the new stain he found on his suit – its source was inexplicable, because he never remembered receiving a blow on the back of his legs, otherwise his hamstrings probably wouldn't want to move that next morning. He just sighed and decided that he'll just put it in the wash and hope for the best. Repairing suits were a pain and he didn't have enough money to buy more fabric.

He had to go to the bathroom one more time before he left for school that day. He suddenly felt great afterwards, and concluded that whatever the hell had been trying to kill him last night was probably taking first-class down the U-Bend Express, brought to you by the Porcelain God Incorporated™.

Peter walked to school, after once again missing the bus, deciding to check out Midtown's theater club after school – Mary-Jane had mentioned it in their conversation the other night. Although she didn't go to Midtown, her other school didn't offer any theater arts extracurriculars, and Midtown was the only one that accepted students from other schools to participate in their events or whatever. All it meant to Peter was that he could see her again, and that his social life didn't suck as much as he thought it did.

OoOoO

Meanwhile, unknown to Peter, the remains of the supervillains formerly known as Fever and Tracker (now known as Charred Remains of Skeleton Number One and Charred Remains of Skeleton Number 2), had won the lottery and got a free first-class ticket down the U-Bend Express. The trip was turbulent and not at all pleasant, and the destination was finally reached that morning.

One would think that the fates of these heinous criminals had all ended that night, but one would be sadly mistaken. One, out of the four, had survived his rather wild (if short) adventure.

His name would be Gravity.

True to his name, Gravity hit the sidewalk with enough force to send nearby ants flying. But while Gravity was a more than a little top-heavy and weighed as much as a baby elephant, his ability to multiply had more uses than just taking up all the space in an elevator. Each copy was lighter and a little less sturdy than the single, original one. Spreading the weight amongst the five of him, Gravity managed to save himself, although 1/5 of him got squashed by passerby. He had been knocked out upon impact, but when he woke up, Gravity was surprised to find out he was still alive and suddenly 300 pounds lighter.

Oh, and inconsequential fact that he was normal size again. The effects of the shrink ray had worn away over night. Gravity was all back to normal.

He didn't really know what to do – Tracker and the others were gone. He didn't feel comfortable walking the streets on his own. Gravity had literally no idea what to think when a boy ran right into him, perhaps heading towards school, considering the hour of the day.

The boy gasped and jumped back, raising his fists and turning very much hostile. Gravity really had no idea why the boy was acting like that – he had never seen the kid before. He also had no idea why the boy looked like he was about to fight, since he was as skinny as a rail with a messy mop of brown hair. He had a better chance of taking on a rhino.

Of course, Gravity had no warning when the boy took him out with a series of punches and kicks, jumping around faster than he could turn, and next thing he knew he was hanging upside down from a lamppost – wrapped up in steel-strong webbing.

The boy was gone as soon as he came, but Gravity heard a familiar voice saying, "Geez, you guys always pop up in the weirdest places! I just can't catch a break!"