"Clinton, Bush, Obama…" Miguel listed as he swung through the night air of the city. He wracked his brain for the next name in the list. "Uh…"

Over the phone, Serina tried to encourage him. "C'mon. You're almost at the end. After Obama came…?"

Spider-Man released his web line with flawless timing, landing on the back of the hover freighter and sticking firmly to the top of its rear cargo hold. "Hang, don't tell me…Cain?"

"Wrong," Serina half-groaned. "Did you really only memorize up to forty-four?"

"I've been busy," Miguel defended as he crawled along the side of the freighter. Drug busts and study hall did not make a good multitasking combo after all, it seemed. Before he could continue, his spider-sense went off and he reacted with instinctive speed just as the driver checked his rearview mirrors.

Spider-Man leapt off the side of the freighter, tethering himself to it with a web line as he did. A sky car flew by, missing him by inches and blaring the sound of its speeding engine right into his mask's built in phone.

"Whoa!" he shouted before he could bite his tongue.

"Miguel, what was that?" Serina immediately asked.

"I uh…some jerk who thinks he owns the sky," he lied as he climbed his web line back to the frieghter. "He's going to get himself killed if he keeps driving like that."

"Are you driving right now? You're supposed to be studying, remember?" Serina scolded.

"I am studying," Miguel protested as he yanked himself back onto the freighter. His hands and feet stuck firmly, and once again he was stuck onto the back of the cargo hold. "Look, I got a little stir crazy, decided to get some air."

"And that's all you're doing?" more scolding, but now the worry in her voice was obvious as well. Miguel forced himself to remember what he used to do whenever he "got some air", and mentally kicked himself.

"Serina, I already told you, Rocky, my Dad, and everyone else I've ever met, all of that is behind me now. I swear," Miguel reassured her as he found a more concealing position to ride the freighter.

"Okay," she said quietly, her tone of someone who was wary to trust, "I believe you. I'm going to take a break. Keep studying, call me if you need any more help."

"Will do," Miguel said as she hung up.

Trust, Miguel had unfortunately learned, was slow to earn and easily broken. His father, Rocky, Serina, everyone who'd trusted him was still wary of the new, "reformed" Miguel, and he had to admit they had no reason not to be. It was going to take time to rebuild all the bonds he himself had broken.

Serina was giving him as much trust as she could, probably more. He still remembered how tense things had gotten back when he'd been spiraling down the drain. He was lucky that after everything he'd said and done he still had friends at all.

But for now, Miguel had other things to focus on besides mending broken friendships. For weeks now, Spider-Man had been hounding the various drug dealers found throughout the city, stopping sales, tracking down sources, locating hidden stockpiles. Now he finally had a lead on one of the top drug lords, who was due to receive a shipment tonight at the docks…courtesy of the Public Eye themselves.

Turning whoever was behind the drug operations into the hands of the law would get nothing accomplished this time around, so Spider-Man would have to settle for simply destroying the shipment and keeping the despicable stuff off the streets.

Spider-Man could have just stopped the freighter right now before it ever reached its waiting drug lord at the docks, but why pass on an opportunity to knock even more heads together?

The docks were their own breed altogether. They were far lower in elevation than most of the city's other districts, but they hugged the water and were home to nearly every import/export business the city had, keeping them alive with activity and more upper class traffic, unlike the Slums.

Business wasn't the only aspect of the docks though. A number of residencies were sprinkled in, as well as a number of warehouses owned by any number of different corporations and private citizens.

It was in these warehouses that Spider-Man had found the heart of Nueva York drug operations. This was where stockpiles were hidden, where product changed hands from the Public Eye and Alchemax manufacturers to drug lords and petty dealers. Intercept the drugs here, and you could catch quite a bundle of people red handed.

Sure enough, the freighter drifted down from the skylanes and onto one of the solid roads, following them out through the docks, cruising the streets until it reached one of the many warehouses. Unsurprisingly, Spider-Man saw a familiar A logo, marking the warehouse as one owned by Alchemax.

"The tramp has her hands in everyone's pockets, doesn't she?" Spider-Man muttered to himself as the freighter slowly pulled up to the building. The large doors parted, allowing access just long enough for the vehicle to pull in, and then shut behind it. Not waiting around for someone to spot him, Spider-Man leapt off the freighter and a silent web zip sent hip into the concealing fold of the steel rafters above.

And just in time for Public Eye officers, all dressed in unmarked and yet unmistakable solid black variants of the ordinary patrol armor, exited the freighter, opened the cargo hold, and began unpacking stacks upon stacks of crates, filled with God knows what.

Meanwhile, from the shadows of the large warehouse emerged several armed thugs, most wearing thick, concealing jackets. Crude melee weapons seemed to be the weapon of choice, though two were armed with military grade assault weapons. The pair flanked one man in particular, apparently the leader of the outfit.

Overseeing the transaction from the comfortable spot between his armed escorts, he wasn't a very imposing figure, clad in a dark blue coat that reached low to the ground. He was also wear some kind of tight fitting blue hood pulled low on his face, leaving only his mouth and jaw exposed. Even with his enhanced vision, it was hard for Spider-Man to distinguish exactly what it was from his perch.

One of the Public Eye Officers walked up to Trench Coat, and started two started talking about something. Trench coat kept his voice low, but the officer didn't bother to turn down his armor's external speaker, making it almost too easy to pick apart the conversation.

"Latest shipment, on time as always," the officer announced. Trench Coat offered some statement up before the officer pressed, "Well? Alchemax doesn't support cred pinchers. Pay up."

Trench Coat nodded and said something to one of his escorts, who drew out a portable data pad. A few taps later, and the escort put it back. The action seemed to satisfy the officer. But things didn't just stop there.

"You know, this shipment is even bigger than usual Craving," the officer commented. "Think you can actually sell all of this?"

"Craving?" Spider-Man muttered to himself. Over the last two months of his superhero career, Spider-Man had encountered plenty of gangs and drug dealers who'd given themselves pretty inventive names. But Craving?

For the first time, Craving spoke loudly enough for Spider-Man to hear. He talked just a little faster than your average Nueva Yorker, and his tone was both cautious and defensive. "Don't worry, you'll get your money. Just do your job and let me do mine."

The officer suddenly seemed to shift gears. It was barely perceptible, but Spider-Man could see the officer shift his weight, quietly reach for his holster. Something was wrong.

"Did you know you're the only dealer I know who wears a mask, Craving?" the officer asked, putting just a little bit of threat into his tone.

Quieter than a breeze, Spider-Man leapt down from the rafters and landed noiselessly back onto the roof of the freighter, but still safely out of sight as all eyes in the warehouse turned to Craving and the officer. Closer now, Spider-Man saw that the officer was right and what'd he'd though was a hood was actually a light blue mask that concealed Craving's entire face and head, save his jaw and eyes.

"No, sir, I didn't," Craving responded neutrally. "Maybe it'll catch on."

"Do you smell that Craving?" the officer asked, though somehow it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"Smell what?" Craving asked, trying to hide the edge in his voice.

"See that's just it, I can't quite place it," officer explained, hand now casually resting on his holster. "Kind of reminds me of something I used to smell when I worked guard duty in labs. Know what the eggheads there were working on? They had a big word for, I called it brain-drain dust. It was supposed to be used for interrogations, make whoever got a dose completely obedient. But the project was scrapped, and everything that they were working on just disappeared. Even the formula for the dust."

"What a coincidence," Craving offered, taking the tiniest half step back.

"One last question Craving," the officer said. "Why is that every time you open your mouth, my breath filters pick up a big spike in the exact same chemicals that old dust was made out of?"

Both officers drew their handguns then, and two bright red targeting lights appeared on Craving's forehead.

"Steven Williams, you are under arrest for theft of patented Alchemax property, and for violation of the Superhu-"

"Wait a second!" Spider-Man interrupted. Every head, and every firearm, turned towards Spider-Man as he sat perched atop the freighter, his very body language mocking everyone in the warehouse.

"So you give him the drugs, he sells them and gives you a nice big cut of the money," Spider-Man summed up, "but when we all gather 'round to set up and do it again, you arrest him. And you guys wonder why everybody hates you. "

"It's Spider-Man!" one of the officers shouted.

Already knowing how the routine went from here, and not being particularly in the mood to keep up the quips, Spider-Man leapt off the freighter and into the air above the crowd gathered in the warehouse. Immediately, shots rang out as both the officers and Craving's escorts open fired with their weapons. Brilliant blue and white hot streaks tore through the air as bullets riddled the ceiling with holes.

Nimbly avoiding the fire, Spider-Man fired out a pair of web lines and yanked, relieving the officers of their handguns. He landed in between the thugs with assault rifles, and before either could adjust their aim and get off a shot, Spider-Man wrenched the rifle out of the hands of one thug and brought it crashing down on the head of the other in a single fluid motion. A simple spider-punch to the face was sufficient to finish them both off.

"Next?" Spider-Man challenged.

Immediately, every enforcer and thug who had something to swing charged forward. Dodging their slow moving swings and offering a swift kick in rebuttal was practically child's play for Spider-Man, and within seconds those left standing were running away in the opposite direction. Spider-Man gave an exaggerated yawn as he watched them bolt away, leaving only the two public eye officers.

Both officers drew their stun batons in unison, and slowly began circling around the hero until they were opposite of each other. They were doing their absolute best to look menacing, which usually wasn't a problem for them, being tall men in imposing heavy armor.

Of course, they were usually intimidating disorderly civilians.

"C'mon guys, don't try it," Spider-Man warned. "It's been done before, and didn't end well."

The officers ignored the web-head and charged forward at the same time. Spider-Man remained immobile as the distance between him and a stun baton rapidly closed to both his left and his right. Appearing unafraid, Spider-Man made a gesture of checking the time on a wristwatch before back flipping out of the way, leaving the officers to bring their stun batons down on each other.

There was an electric sizzle as sparks danced across the officers' armor, both of them letting out pained gargles as they involuntarily convulsed. After a few seconds, both of them collapsed to the ground smoking.

"Told ya," Spider-Man taunted matter-of-factly.

Spider-Man surveyed his work, and spotted the one bad guy left standing. Craving remained motionless, still looking at Spider-Man's handiwork. Even with the mask on, he looked unimpressed. But with the fight wrapped up, he met Spider-Man's eyes.

"Thanks," Craving mumbled.

"Don't thank me just yet," Spider-Man warned, cracking his knuckles. "Now close your eyes, and it'll be over before you know it."

Spider-Man advanced towards the lone drug dealer, ready to give him a quick whallop, toss the drugs into the harbor, and go home. Craving, despite having witnessed the entire spectacle of Spider-Man dispatching several men with ease, was unmoved.

"I don't want to hurt you," Craving said uneasily.

"Trust me, you won't," Spider-Man assured.

Spider-Man pulled his fist back as he continued walking towards Craving, and then suddenly as his next step came down, he lost all sense of balance and tripped over his own feet, overcome with a sudden sense of nausea. His thought became a garbled mess, and his spider-sense felt like it was trying to go off, but instead of the usual earthquake in his skull he felt it more like a heartbeat in his sinuses. The next thing Spider-Man was aware of, he was looking at the warehouse ceiling with Craving standing over him.

"Whaja…how da whose eh whatsit?" Spider-Man managed to get out, fighting off a strange, warping feeling in his brain that kept him from focusing on any truly coherent thought.

"Relax, Spider-Man," Craving said sternly. "Enjoy yourself."

Spider-Man felt a wave of a feeling he hadn't felt in a good while. He felt high out of his mind. The only difference was, this feeling was instantaneous, and easily a lot stronger than most stuff Miguel had tried. Looking down at his chest, Miguel swore the spider-emblem on his chest was moving in a hypnotic, undulating wave, and he laughed.

With Spider-Man preoccupied making concrete-angels, Craving strode quickly across the warehouse floor, picking up one of the Public Eye officers' handguns and a single, small case of drugs. As he did, his coat parted to reveal a set of light blue tights with an orange pattern trimming out many of its edges, as well as a large black belt with several pouches ringing around it.

"The effects will wear off after a while, then you'll be fine," Craving told Spider-Man.

"Awesome," Spider-Man chuckled. "Are the lights changing colors? Whoo! …oh God…I think I'm gonna throw up…"

Just as Spider-Man struggled to hold the vomit in his mouth and the two Public Eye officers began to come to, Craving finished grabbing what he could carry and hurriedly left the warehouse.

The two officers groaned as they forced themselves onto their feet, and Spider-Man swallowed his vomit back down again.

"Blegh!" Spider-Man gagged, finally sitting up and noticing the Public Eye officers. "Hi guys! I swallowed my own vomit!"

The pair exchanged confused looks, and then picked their stun batons off the floor. Spider-Man cocked his head, a small part of his brain trying to tell him…something…about…eggs. He forgot to buys some eggs maybe? Unable to figure out what the crackling stun batons signaled, Spider-Man busted up laughing.

Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long…I don't really have a terribly convincing excuse either…ah is I'm back, and with a new villain arc for our favorite futuristic Web-Head. Major shout-out goes to Koros45 for creating the supervillain Craving, which I almost renamed Crave, except that kills a future plan I have for the character (it doesn't actually kill it, but it prevents said plan from being OCD perfect.).

Anyway, right now, this arc is still planned as your standard four part arc, but it might be extended, seeing as this villain has serious potential to shine in a very different way from your typical rampaging terror.

Next issue, we'll begin developing some new allies as well. Excitement!

Side note: Please do not submit ideas for a Black-Cat-esque character, as that slot has been planned and filled by [Character name redacted to avoid spoilers]. Just a mention of that character role gets me all excited for my plans for it. (And makes me check how many arcs I have left to get to that one.)

Well, on that note, what did ya think?