I’m worried about you lately, Peter.
“I know, May, but I promise, I’m doing fine. It’s all good. I’ve got this whole college thing in the bag.”
“It’s nothing, Aunt May. Really. Okay, I gotta go- There’s this, uh,” He glanced down from the web hammock he was currently perched up on at the truck that had appeared, motor running, “-Study group I joined. Yeah. No. Sure. You could call them friends...”
The white of his lenses narrowed from the black optical shutters cutting off the background noise as it honed his enhanced senses on the clearly hush-hush meetup below. Moving his textbooks, notebooks, and study notes to the side he pushed himself to his previously kicked up and crossed Spider-Booties (Trademarked). Crouching low, Peter moved towards the edge of his makeshift perch, quietly inching forward with the panache of a runner during the Olympics.Â
“It is nice that I’m already making pals- Huh?” He raised his head at the question his aunt asked. “Uh, what’re they like?” His head snapped back down to the deal in progress. “I dunno, actually. How about I go and find out? Haha, yeah I love you, too, May. We’re still on for this weekend, right? Okay, I’ll see you then.” He clicked the end call button on his phone, testing the durability of his webbing while keeping an eye out for the chance to spring into action.
The mysterious men below talked for a few more minutes, three in all: a buyer, a seller, and a lookout who kept peering out the alleyway.
The Seller gestures towards the covered truck behind him, the deal sanctioned between the two. Peter caught the tail end of this moment:
“--next step in making sure nobody, not even those damn Avengers, can stop guys like us.”
That was enough for Peter, webbing a new line for himself so not to disturb his college work station, he stepped forward onto it, then dipped really low so it began to bend before launching himself into the air. Backflipping into a dive, the arachnid based crimefighter kicks off the Seller with the ease and acrobatics of a gymnast.
“Hiya fellas. Shady Back Alley Deals Con is over at the Javits Center, didn’t you get the e-mail?” he quipped, immediately flipping to kick the gun the Buyer had pulled out at the blur of red and blue spandex. His head whipping back around from the momentum, the lens on his mask widening in sarcastic surprise while dodging the various punches the Buyer threw. “Woah, that almost looks real! I know it ruins the illusion of cosplay but you’re supposed to spray paint the tips orange, dude.”
Throwing himself onto his back, Peter kicked the Buyer in the stomach, doublng him over then leapt back onto his feet. His wrist flew out at the Lookout, webbing the gun in his hand and yanking it away. “Tsk tsk, your buddy here is already cosplaying sore loser criminal with a gun! One of you is gonna have to change!” he grunted as he used the webbing to swing the gun back around and crack the Lookout in the head.
The Seller pulled a whip from under the cover on the truck, he cracked it and the leather end seemed to glow similarly to the man who attacked the Stark Expo back when Peter was a kid.
 “...Well, he’s got the right idea.” Peter muttered with a three point landing, eyes wide at the crackle of energy.
