A group of armed men unloaded crates of high-tech weaponry near a dimly lit dock, their movements sharp and deliberate. They scanned their surroundings with wary eyes, ensuring no one was watching.
Beneath the truck, Spider-Man clung silently, his sharp senses capturing every word and movement above him.
"The big man upstairs needs these weapons delivered ASAP," one of the men growled.
"Got it," another replied curtly.
The engine roared to life, and the truck began to move. Spider-Man shifted swiftly, climbing onto the roof of the truck to avoid detection. As the vehicle rumbled forward, he eavesdropped on the conversation inside.
"I heard the big boss is cutting deals with Hydra. Is that true?" one of the men asked nervously.
Before anyone could answer, a gunshot echoed. The man who had spoken slumped forward, a bullet through his skull.
"Bothersome," another muttered coldly.
Spider-Man's breath hitched. *What the hell is going on?* he thought, his mind racing.
"Tch, who leaked that information?" the shooter hissed, his voice dripping with menace.
The truck continued its journey, eventually arriving at a secluded forest clearing far from prying eyes. Spider-Man clung to the undercarriage, his movements calculated to avoid even the faintest chance of being spotted.
They waited in silence until a convoy of black cars arrived. A man in a sleek suit stepped out, his expression unreadable.
"Do you have the weapons?" he demanded.
"Money first," one of the armed men replied, his tone firm.
The suited man handed over a briefcase filled with cash. Satisfied, the armed group opened the truck to reveal the high-tech arsenal.
Spider-Man's instincts kicked into overdrive. Moving like a shadow, he began neutralizing the men one by one, webbing them to the cars and trees with precision. The chaos unfolded silently, leaving only eight men standing.
"Take it," one of the suited men ordered.
Three of them began loading the weapons into their vehicles. Suddenly, a slow clap echoed through the clearing.
All heads turned as Spider-Man emerged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nice little operation you've got here."
Guns were drawn instantly, and the three men holding the high-tech weapons aimed them at Spider-Man. But he was already in motion. A web shot out, yanking two of the suited men into each other with a satisfying *thud*. The third tried to fire, but Spider-Man dropped from above, knocking him out with a swift kick.
The remaining men scrambled. Two fumbled with the high-tech weapons, while the third fired a standard handgun. Spider-Man's spider-sense flared, and he leaped into the air, dodging the barrage of bullets.
Mid-flip, he webbed the two men wielding the advanced weapons, pulling them together until they collided and crumpled to the ground.
Only one man remained. He emptied his clip, the bullets whizzing past Spider-Man, who dodged effortlessly, closing the distance with each step. When the gun clicked empty, the man hurled it in desperation, but Spider-Man sidestepped it with ease.
The man lunged for one of the high-tech weapons, but Spider-Man's web snagged his hand, yanking him backward. With a fluid motion, Spider-Man grabbed him by the collar and delivered a knockout punch.
"Good night," Spider-Man quipped, letting the man slump to the ground.
He turned his attention to the weapons, examining them closely. The design was unfamiliar. No logos, no markings. 'Who made these?' he wondered. Knowing the danger they posed, he decided to destroy them.
With a series of well-placed webs and superhuman strength, he hurled the trucks and cars into the forest. The impact caused fuel tanks to rupture, and moments later, a massive explosion lit up the night.
Spider-Man dusted off his hands and surveyed the scene. The unconscious men lay scattered around him. "What to do with you all?" he muttered, crouching beside them.
In the end, Spider-Man just let them there and continues with his patrol around the city.
**The Next Day**
High above the city, in the penthouse of a towering skyscraper, a massive figure sat silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The man, bald and imposing, wore a pristine white suit that contrasted sharply with the dark aura he exuded. His thick fingers gripped a pen, twirling it absently as his cold, calculating eyes scanned the sprawling metropolis below.
This was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime, a man whose name alone struck fear into the hearts of both the underworld and the innocent.
The silence of the room was shattered as the heavy oak door creaked open. A nervous underling stepped inside, clutching a tablet tightly. His voice trembled as he spoke. "Boss, I... I have bad news."
Kingpin didn't turn around. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled like distant thunder. "What is it?"
The underling hesitated, then blurted out, "Spider-Man. He's interfered with one of our major deals. The shipment's gone."
The pen in Kingpin's hand snapped in two, ink splattering across his immaculate desk. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. "First Daredevil, and now this... insect," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. "I thought I only had one pest to deal with. It seems I was mistaken."
The underling shifted uncomfortably. "What should we do, Boss?"
Kingpin rose from his chair, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the room. "Find out everything you can about Spider-Man. His habits, his weaknesses, his allies. And send Bullseye after him. I want this dealt with swiftly."
The underling nodded quickly, relief washing over him as he backed out of the room. "Right away, Boss."
Once outside, the underling pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After a few rings, a casual, almost playful voice answered. "Is it a job?"
"Yeah," the underling replied. "Kingpin wants Spider-Man taken care of. Permanently. You'll be well compensated."
The voice on the other end chuckled. "Alrighty, then. Consider it done. I'll handle the bug."
The line went dead, and the underling exhaled sharply. Meanwhile, miles away, a man with a chilling grin began assembling his arsenal. His name was Lester, though the world knew him by a far more sinister moniker: Bullseye. A notorious mercenary with a reputation for never missing his mark, he relished the opportunity to add another hero's name to his list of victims.
Back in Kingpin's office, the crime lord's rage boiled over. With a single, thunderous punch, he smashed a hole through the drywall, sending debris scattering across the floor.
"These damn vigilantes," he snarled, his voice echoing through the room. "First Daredevil, now Spider-Man. They think they can disrupt my empire? I'll crush them both."
His fury was palpable, fueled not just by the interference but by the stakes of the deal he'd just lost. It wasn't just any deal, it was a partnership with Hydra, one of the most powerful and dangerous organizations in the world. Now, with Spider-Man's meddling, Hydra might sever ties altogether, leaving Kingpin's empire vulnerable.
As he stared out at the city, his mind raced with plans of retribution. "No one crosses Wilson Fisk," he muttered, his voice low and menacing. "No one."
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I have been rebirthed, and this is another try at writing a story. If you like the story so far, you can sub to my Patreon for advanced chapters.
Right now, we're at Chapter 7.
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Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the start. See you later!