Rade — Roleplayer Guild

September 5th, 2013. 5:33 PM
Manhattan, New York

After my visit with Curt my head was bouncing around with various ideas and concerns. First and foremost was the nagging worry that whatever it was Curt had done to that spider - and subsequently me - may have came with some unwelcome side effects. Sure, so far I hadn't noticed anything negative about the changes in my genome, but it hadn't even been a year yet, and I'd heard of some victims of experimental chemical or radiological exposure not showing any signs of illness for years. For all I knew, my insides could be rotting.

Okay, so my internal organs probably weren't rotting, and somehow I doubted whatever process my godfather used to alter the spider's genetics involved radiation. I mean, really, an irradiated spider giving a teenage boy superpowers? That was pretty ridiculous, even considering the sci-fi fantasy-like way my genetic structure was altered by a spider bite. The sad thing was, that wasn't the first time I started worrying my semi-pretty little head off about the possibility of their being drawbacks to my abilities. I would come back to that same line of thought probably every other month; my talk with Curt had only made my concerns more prominent in my mind. To be fair, I suppose it was only natural for one to worry when they undergo such an extreme, unknown change. Still, my head was full of irrational thoughts, and I needed to work them out in an effective manner. That manner happened to be donning a poorly constructed costume made up of a dark blue and red diving suit with a spider emblem spray painted on the chest and back, and a red ski-mask, then swinging over New York looking for trouble. That's what happens when you can't afford a therapist's hourly rates.

I spent the better part of an hour looping around Manhattan without seeing so much as a purse snatching. Practically impossible for that to happen in New York, but that's my luck; no crimes when I look for them, too many when I don't. I was crossing through Midtown Manhattan again, staying high and jumping from rooftop to rooftop to conserve web-fluid, and was about to give up when I felt that obnoxious little buzzing at the base of my skull again. I wasn't immediately sure why my spider-sense was going off given I was alone on the rooftop of a three-story building. I panicked at first, looking up, worried that another bird was about to crap on me - it would surprise most how often that would nearly happen - but a quick scan of the skies showed no incoming avian bombings. Then I felt it. The shock wave ripped through the building I was standing on. I didn't know for sure what had happened, but my vast experience in watching action films told me that the shock wave was the result of an explosion coming from beneath me; inside whatever building I was currently standing on. A quick peek over the edge revealed to me my location; Midtown Savings Bank.

A bank. An explosion. I put two and two together fairly quickly. Midtown Bank was being robbed, and from a pretty brazen group of criminals if they were using some sort of explosives. I had never encountered a bank heist before. Jewelry store robberies, sure, but never a bank heist. Probably because I usually went out on patrol late at night. For the briefest of moments I wasn't sure how I should act. Would it be best for me to wait for the robbers to try and make their escape before I stealthily captured them? Or should I rush inside to make sure no innocent people were hurt in the explosion, and in doing so revealing myself to the public. I'm sure it's a real shocker that I would choose the latter. I'd be a pretty horrible hero if I hadn't. Not that I considered myself a hero, more of a vigilante, but that's what Harry called me and who am I to disappoint one of my best friends? Again, that is.

I quickly found myself inside the bank via an open, third floor window, and, quite frankly, I was a little surprised with what I saw. Despite the massive shock wave I felt, and aside from the completely destroyed vault door and most of the wall it was attached to, the room was mostly undisturbed. There were a few dozen frightened people huddled on the floor beneath me, four tellers cowering in a corner behind the front desks, and some little bits of debris scattered around the hole that used to be the vault entrance. Now, I wasn't an expert on explosive devices by any means, but I would think a detonation that would have such a powerful shock wave that it reverberates through an entire three-story structure would have left a larger mess behind.

But that wasn't even the oddest thing about the scene. There was no group of criminals. There was one man. A lone bank robber was attempting a heist, in Manhattan, in broad daylight. And still that wasn't the oddest thing. No, that title would go to the man's outfit. It was ridiculous looking, and that's coming from the guy in the mismatched tights and fuzzy ski-mask. The robber had on some weird, full-body, bulky suit with a yellow and orange, meshy, patchwork design to it, with a black vest and shorts over the mesh. It looked like he decided to wrap his body in a quilt his grandmother had made for him. To top it off, he had some funky, metallic, equally clunky looking pair of gloves on. The guy was even having some difficulties grabbing the cash while wearing them. They were by far the strangest accessories I had ever seen on a criminal during my as-of-then short career as Spider-Man.

Seeing as he had his back towards me, I decided then would be as good a time as any to put an end to the buffoon's theft. Considering I had an audience for the first time, I figured why not show off a little. It would be a great way to relax, have some fun, and forget all about my worries. I released my grip, dropping down from where I had been on the ceiling and landing half a dozen feet from the mysterious Quilt-Man. I had a witty one-liner already on the tip of my tongue, ready to dish out a verbal beat down that would leave the bad guy confused before I commenced with the actual beating. Unfortunately, that's not what occurred. I guess one of the tellers had seen me drop down, because instead of going all hero on Quilt-Man's ass, I was greeted with a bloodcurdling scream. I suppose witnessing a masked man free falling from a thirty foot high ceiling could be pretty frightening, especially to an already terrified victim of an armed robbery. Regardless, someone screamed and my spider-sense went off.

I remember thinking "why would it react to a scream?" Then I remember thinking "ow" as I was launched back in the air, slamming into one of the concrete pillars holding up the second floor balcony. I felt the support column give way slightly,and realized it had cracked against the force of my impact. To be able to do that, whatever had hit me had to be pretty damn powerful. I turned back to face Quilt-Man, who was now staring at me, arms outstretched in front of his body, his gloved fists pointing right at me.

"The fuck are you, little man?" He drawled in a distinctly southern accent.

I was too stunned, and my body was aching too much to respond with my usual wit. My chest hurt from whatever struck me, and my back hurt from slamming into the column. It didn't even occur to me at the time to chastise him for his potty mouth.

"How're you still standing after I nailed your scrawny little ass?" Through the fabric of his mask, the strange man's face twisted up in anger. "Ain't really matter I guess, no way I'm letting another thief just stroll in and take my cash after I done all the heavy liftin'."

Quilt-Man thrust his fists in my direction, and my spider-sense went off again. Instead of trying to understand what it was reacting to this time, I let my reflexes take over and I backflipped onto the pillar before pushing off and leaping over Quilt-Man's head. The spot on the tiled floor I had been standing on was pulverized as the air in front of the gloves he wore rippled and two barely visible concussive blasts shot out.

Okay, so, not a fashion statement, but apparently advanced, weaponized gauntlets. Friggin' spectacular. That first blast had really done a number on me - I was pretty sure I had a couple cracked ribs - and if I allowed myself to get hit again I'd most likely be out of commission for awhile. Hell, if it weren't for the increased density of my musculature and bones, I might be dead right now. But now I knew what to expect and I was confident I could dodge any more he fired off, not that I intended to give him the chance to.

As soon as I landed behind him again I was firing off blasts of my own. Two streams of webbing impacted his legs, securing his feet in place on the floor and ensuring he couldn't turn to shoot me anymore with those gloves of his. Apparently I hadn't thought my plan through well enough, because Quilt-Man stuck his arms behind his back and blindly fired off two blasts. They were easy to dodge, but he used the time he bought for himself to free his legs from the webs. Apparently, he could adjust the intensity of the shock waves, otherwise he likely would have obliterated his lower half instead of merely weakening the webbing enough to break free. I didn't even know it was possible to soften the webbing's durability with concentrated vibrations. This guy, whoever he was, had combat experience. Everyone I had ever webbed up had had essentially the same reaction; panic. But not this guy, he just adapted and reacted to the situation, immediately going on the counter-offensive. Even without his high-tech weaponry, Quilt-Man was a dangerous individual.

I could hear sirens in the distance growing closer, beginning to drown out the fearful murmurs and whimpers the bank bystanders were making. Quilt-Man was staring me down, I could only assume he was royally pissed by my interruption, and that I had delayed his escape plans. I expected him to make another attempt to blast me so he could get away with his loot, but I was ready for him.

My spider-sense tingled softly, which was strange considering it usually buzzed annoyingly when I was in danger, but I put it off as my exhaustion and the pain I was in So, again, I wasn't prepared for the unexpected move he made. Pointing his arms up towards the balcony overhead, Quilt-Man released another powerful, concussive shock wave that struck the walkway above, destroying a portion of it and sending chunks of concrete raining down on me and a couple of the closer civilians.

I mentally kicked myself for being stupid. The man already knew I could dodge his attacks, and he was trying to get out before the cops arrived. Of course he wouldn't go for another direct hit. With no other choice available in the time I had, I dove for the two people the debris was falling towards, catching the concrete chunks on my back, adding to my pain. I grunted as the largest of the chunks struck the base of my neck.

By the time I had stood up and checked on the bystanders, the man in the quilted costume had already fled. I wanted to follow and pay him back ten-fold for the beating he gave me, but I wasn't sure which way he had gone, and I was still numb - more so from the shock of getting my ass handed to me than from the actual pain it had caused me. Besides, the sirens were outside and I had to get out of there before the cops entered the building.

As I crawled back up towards the window I had come in from, wincing in agony, I couldn't help but think "what the hell just happened?"

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