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“Oh, why did it have to be you?” Edna Adler asked the costume-clad kid before her as she stood in the open doorway of her brownstone.The lenses on Peter Parker’s mask widened slightly. “Er, I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” he said, sputtering it out as he rubbed the back of his head. “I heard your cries for help, and so here I am.”“I was calling for the police,” Ms. Adler said. “Not you.” They have phones for that, Peter thought, but did not dare say, for he got from her glare that in the moment he did, he’d soon long to be anywhere else. “Maybe I can help in a way the police can’t?” he asked. “I’m quicker than they are. I’d like to help, anyway.”The woman huffed out a breath. “Some man stole my Jonesie.”“I could help with that! Is he, like, a dog or—”“A cat,
thank you,” she said. “A tabby. The man who took him ran that way –” she pointed to the east – “what are you still doing here? Go, now!”“But I still don’t know –”“I said go !” Adler said before speedwalking towards him. It was all Peter needed. He ran to the east before leaping into the air and launching a web towards a flat, lifting him into the air.As he carved through the air, Peter began his usual habit of muttering to himself. No one could hear him; what was the harm? “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked. “Don’t even have a description. It’s like the Target gig all over again, just with more adrenaline…”He looked down onto the streets below. The usual sights showed themselves: people of all different stripes walking across the crosswalks. Some tall, others short; men, women, and children; some on their phones, others not; all going about their day at roughly the same pace. One set themselves apart from the crowd. Peter saw a tall, lanky, brown-haired man sprint across the sidewalk, bumping into people in his path, shouting apologies as he went.“Maybe that’s our perp?” Peter asked as he shot himself ever faster down the block. Letting go of the web strand, he descended; right over the man’s head. Peter landed in a three-point position, looking the man in the wide eyes.“S-spider-Man -- ?” the man asked.Peter stood. “Y’know, thieves like you usually just take money-type stuff, like purses. But I think you may be the smartest thief of all. Cause you know you can’t put a price on cats like the one you took.”The man stiffened. “'Thief? '
This is my cat! I was just – just taking him to the vet before you –”“Your cat that you took from an old lady, maybe. I mean, come on, an old lady?” Peter raised his arm and spun a web around the cat, which bared its claws, hissing. “Dude, there are so many other targets. Besides, you want a cat, there’s an easier way: adopt.”He yanked the web back. The man jerked forward with a cry. The cat flew into the air, shrieking and contorting in it, before landing in Peter’s arms. “Or like, find a stray, iunno.”“You idiot,” the man yelled, “that’s my cat!”“Sorry, dude,” Peter said, “was the old lady’s first.” He spun a web towards a building and pulled himself towards it. “Whatever you do, just don’t declaw them!” he yelled at the man as he left for the skies.“Garfunkel! ” the man cried.Peter ignored it. But still, the cat wasn’t doing him any favors. Garfunkel – if his name really was Garfunkel, and not Jonesie (Please please please be Jonesie , Peter thought) – wriggled against his grasp, yowling and clawing at his arm, which Peter gritted his teeth at. Not that it hurt him; he just knew he’d have to brush up on his sewing skills when he returned to May’s.As he approached the apartment building, Peter saw Ms. Adler sitting on the stairwell to the apartment entrance, looking at her wrist. A watch, perhaps. Whatever it was, Peter descended again. He landed on his two feet, stopping immediately in front of a blinking Ms. Adler.“There you go!” Peter said, “One Jonesie the cat for a wonderful lady, from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” He held Jonesie, Garfunkel – whomever up for Ms. Adler to see.But her eyes only narrowed. “I know Jonesie when I see him,” she said, “and that’s not him.”Peter’s arms slowly fell, the lenses on his mask widening. “O-oh.”She stood, then, clutching her handbag. “You menace!” she yelled. “Jameson was right about you on the radio, you’re nothing but a sleazy huckster!” She lifted the handbag and swung it towards Peter. Probably deserve this, Peter thought as it made contact, crying out at the same time. He dropped Garfunkel, which hissed as it ran back towards the east. Despite letting the cat go, the blows from the handbag kept coming. “Friendly neighborhood shit-lord, more like!” she yelled.Peter caught the handbag and pushed it away before he ran off, shouting, “My intentions were good!!” before spinning a web and launching himself yet again into the sky.
“I’m capable of learning from mistakes, I can grow from this, I can improve,” Peter muttered to himself as he lay on the ledge of the Empire State Building, looking up at the burning sky.The police radio in the suit Stark built for him began to sound: “Reports of a masked individual stealing a tabby cat from a man. Possibly the Spider-Man.”Peter threw his arms into the air and yelled, “Oh, come on!”