Peter had been patrolling for nearly an hour when a desperate cry echoed between the buildings below. "Help! Somebody, please help me!" a man shouted from somewhere inside an abandoned garment factory. Peter changed direction immediately, releasing his web line and dropping toward the broken upper windows of the darkened building.
He landed against the outside wall and listened carefully. The man called again from deep inside the factory, his voice strained and frightened, but Peter couldn't hear anyone threatening him. Before entering, Peter webbed his backpack behind a rooftop ventilation unit so his clothes and camera wouldn't be damaged if another fight began.
Peter slipped through a shattered window and activated the recording system in his HUD. The abandoned factory contained rusted machinery, empty worktables, and hanging chains that moved slightly in the cold air. "I'm inside," Peter called while crawling along a ceiling beam. "Keep talking so I can find you, preferably before the creepy building starts playing horror music."
The voice came from the factory floor beneath him, where a man sat beside an overturned chair with his hands apparently tied behind his back. Peter dropped from the ceiling and landed several feet away, but the moment his feet touched the ground, his spider-sense exploded with warnings from every direction. The supposedly helpless man immediately stood and pulled his loose ropes away.
Powerful lights snapped on across the factory as metal shutters slammed over the windows and exits. Men emerged from behind machinery, crates, offices, and upper walkways until nearly fifty people surrounded Peter. None wore matching uniforms, and their weapons ranged from pistols and shotguns to baseball bats, chains, knives, and homemade stun batons.
Peter slowly looked around the enormous circle forming around him. "Okay, this is either the worst surprise party in history or I accidentally walked into a very aggressive warehouse convention," he said. Several men raised their weapons while the one who had called for help backed toward the nearest group.
"Don't let him get out!" someone shouted before the first gunmen opened fire. Peter leaped straight upward as bullets crossed beneath him and struck the floor where he had been standing. He fired webs while twisting through the air, covering several gun barrels and yanking the weapons from their owners before they could adjust their aim.
Peter landed upside down against a support pillar as more men charged toward him. "Almost fifty against one seems a little unfair," he called before springing over their heads. "You should probably find another thirty people." Two attackers collided beneath him while a third found his baseball bat webbed to the ceiling.
A man swung a heavy chain toward Peter's head, but his spider-sense warned him before it moved. Peter caught the chain, pulled the attacker off balance, and used the loose length to tangle the legs of three more men rushing behind him. He controlled his strength carefully, knocking them down without striking hard enough to cause permanent injuries.
Several men on an upper walkway aimed their weapons toward him while those below forced Peter into the open. He fired a web bomb above the approaching group, allowing the compressed webbing to spread across the railing, weapons, and attackers at once. Eight men were pulled together against the walkway before any of them could fire.
"Web bomb successful," Peter said while dodging a stun baton. "Customer satisfaction appears mixed." He caught the attacker's wrist, removed the weapon, and used the insulated handle to block another man's metal pipe before webbing both of them against the side of a rusted machine.
The man who had pretended to need help rushed Peter from behind with a second stun baton. Peter ducked beneath the crackling weapon, flipped over him, and fired a web line around his ankles. "You know, fake emergency calls are extremely rude," Peter said as he pulled the man upside down. "I came all the way in here expecting an actual victim."
The attackers kept coming despite how quickly their numbers fell. Some moved like experienced criminals, while others swung wildly and seemed frightened the moment Peter faced them. They wore different clothing, carried different equipment, and didn't share any gang markings, making it obvious that they hadn't normally worked together before tonight.
Peter crawled rapidly beneath one of the upper walkways while bullets followed behind him. He changed direction without warning, dropped into the middle of another group, and swept their legs out from beneath them. Before they could rise, he covered the floor with a broad layer of webbing that trapped their hands, shoes, and weapons in place.
"Please remain seated until the police arrive," Peter said as he jumped away from a knife. "Refreshments will not be provided, but everyone receives a complimentary criminal record." He webbed the knife to a wall, caught its owner with another strand, and spun him into two men attempting to approach from Peter's blind side.
The remaining attackers finally began hesitating as they looked around the factory. More than thirty men were webbed to walls, pillars, machinery, and the ceiling, while others lay stunned across the floor. Peter stood in the center of the room without a visible injury, although his suit had collected dust and several fresh tears.
A group near the loading entrance attempted to escape, but the metal shutters they had lowered now blocked their way. Peter fired webs around their waists and pulled them backward before they could reopen the door. "You locked yourselves inside with me," he reminded them. "That feels like an important planning mistake."
The final gunman raised his pistol with both hands, but Peter's web covered the weapon before he could fire. The man released it and raised his hands, prompting the few attackers still standing to surrender as well. Peter remained alert while webbing their wrists and ankles, unwilling to trust that someone wouldn't attempt one last surprise.
Once everyone had been secured, Peter looked toward the men spread throughout the factory. "Would anyone like to explain why nearly fifty complete strangers were hiding in an abandoned building waiting for me?" he asked. "Because I'm starting to feel like this wasn't about stealing sewing machines."
No one answered him. Some stared at the floor, while others exchanged nervous glances and remained completely silent. Peter questioned the man who had called for help, but he refused to explain who had organized the ambush or why everyone had been so determined to capture him.
Peter searched their pockets and found several burner phones containing nothing except the factory's address and a time. Whatever message had brought them together had already been deleted, and none of the devices identified the sender. He placed the phones in a webbed bag for the police, making sure his HUD recorded where each one had been found.
Peter finished placing the burner phones inside the webbed evidence bag and looked toward the factory's main entrance. The heavy metal shutter still covered the loading doors, while matching panels blocked every lower window. He placed both hands on his hips and said aloud, "Now, how am I going to get out?"
Before Peter could choose between lifting the shutter or climbing through an upper window, a bright white line appeared around the smaller personnel door. The light slowly moved through the metal, cutting a glowing outline around the frame while sparks fell onto the concrete. None of Peter's danger senses reacted, but he still lowered himself into a cautious stance.
The cut section of metal fell inward with a deafening crash, revealing Batman standing behind it with a compact cutting torch in one hand. Robin stepped through the opening beside him and looked around at the nearly fifty men webbed throughout the factory. Peter straightened and said, "You know, most people knock, but I'll admit the glowing door outline was dramatic."
"We need to talk," Batman replied as he switched off the torch and stepped over the fallen metal. Robin examined several attackers hanging from an upper walkway before looking toward Peter. "You handled all of these guys by yourself?" he asked. "I'm impressed, but I'm also wondering how you keep finding buildings filled with armed criminals."
"They called for help, I entered, and everyone decided to attack me at once," Peter explained. He pointed toward the man hanging upside down near one of the machines and added, "That one provided the award-winning performance. None of them will explain why they were waiting, and their phones only contain this address and a time."
Batman took the evidence bag and briefly examined the burner phones through the clear webbing. "They were here because Hammerhead placed an open contract on your life," he said. The humor immediately disappeared from Peter's posture as he looked around at the silent men covering the factory walls.
"Who's Hammerhead?" Peter asked. Batman returned the evidence bag and explained, "A New York enforcer who has been building his own criminal organization. His skull was reinforced after a serious injury, making his head nearly indestructible, and he uses that advantage to intimidate or physically overpower anyone who challenges him."
Batman walked toward one of the webbed gunmen while continuing his explanation. "Hammerhead controls weapons shipments, protection rackets, and several storage sites across the city. The warehouse you recently helped SWAT seize belonged to his network. You cost him weapons, money, records, and dozens of men in a single operation."
"So he responded by paying strangers to kill me," Peter said as he glanced toward the attackers. "That feels like a slight overreaction to losing one warehouse." Batman's expression remained hard as he answered, "The contract offers five million dollars to whoever kills Spider-Man and provides proof."
Batman paused before adding, "Hammerhead approached the League of Assassins first. He paid them fifteen million dollars to eliminate you, which is why they poisoned you and attempted to finish the job before we intervened. Their failure convinced him that relying on one organization wasn't enough."
Peter looked between Batman and Robin as the truth settled over him. "So after the League failed, he opened the contract to everyone," he said. Batman nodded and replied, "Every assassin, mercenary, gang member, and metahuman with access to the underworld network can now attempt to collect."
Peter slowly looked around at the attackers again, finally understanding why men from different gangs had gathered without sharing colors or equipment. "These guys weren't working together before tonight," he realized. "They all came because they thought fifty people would be enough to bring me down and split the money."
"They're only the first wave," Batman warned. Robin's expression became unusually serious as he stepped closer to Peter. "Some of them won't challenge you directly," he explained. "They'll study your patrols, use civilians to draw you out, or wait until you're exhausted from another fight. You have to assume every emergency could be bait, just like this one was."
Peter frowned beneath his mask as another question occurred to him. "Does Hammerhead actually have enough money to pay the League fifteen million and offer another five million to everyone else?" he asked. Batman remained silent for a moment before admitting, "His known operations don't fully account for those resources."
"You think someone might be backing him," Robin said. Batman nodded slightly and replied, "It's possible, but I haven't identified anyone above Hammerhead. The money passed through shell companies, foreign accounts, and criminal brokers before reaching the contracts, so until we have proof, Hammerhead remains the person responsible."
Peter crossed his arms and looked toward Batman. "If all these people are coming to New York, this seems like a bad time for you two to leave." Batman's expression hardened as he answered, "We don't have a choice. The Joker escaped from Arkham less than an hour ago, several guards were injured, and he vanished before Gotham police established a perimeter."
Peter looked between Batman and Robin and asked, "Do you need help?" Batman shook his head and replied, "Gotham needs us, and New York needs you. Your priority is protecting your identity, warning the police without revealing who you are, and refusing to let these hunters control where or when you fight."
Robin checked the secure communicator linked to Peter's device. "Our channel will remain open," he explained. "If you identify one of the hunters or uncover evidence showing who might be supporting Hammerhead, send everything you find. We'll respond when we can, but the Joker may keep us occupied."
Batman reminded Peter never to travel directly home while wearing the suit and to treat anyone following him as a potential assassin. Peter assured him that he already changed patrol routes and used several locations before returning home. Batman nodded once, satisfied that Peter had taken the League's surveillance seriously.
Robin glanced around at the defeated attackers and managed a small smile. "Try not to fight another fifty people alone before we get back," he said. Peter pointed toward the false victim and replied, "Technically, it was closer to forty-nine attackers and one unemployed actor, but I understand your concern."
Batman turned toward the cut-open door, but he stopped before stepping through it. He reached into his utility belt, removed a small black card marked with an encrypted number, and placed it in Peter's hand. "This number connects directly to the Justice League's emergency system," he explained.
Peter looked down at the card while Batman placed one hand firmly on his shoulder. "I know telling you to stop being Spider-Man won't work," Batman said. "You'll keep going out because people need help, even when doing it places you in danger. So be careful, kid."
Batman tightened his hand slightly before continuing. "If you need anything, or if you're on death's door, call that number. Tell the operator you received it from me, give them your location, and someone from the Justice League will come to help you. It doesn't matter what city they're in or what time it is."
For once, Peter didn't respond with a joke. He secured the card inside the protected compartment holding Batman's communicator and said, "Thank you. I'll try not to need it." Batman released his shoulder and replied, "Trying isn't enough. Know when you're outmatched and make the call before it becomes too late."
Robin moved toward the doorway and gave Peter one final look. "That number isn't permission to become reckless," he warned. Peter raised both hands and replied, "Understood. No fighting armies, no insulting professional assassins, and no dying unless absolutely necessary."
Batman and Robin stepped through the opening before firing their grappling lines toward a nearby rooftop. Peter watched them disappear into the darkness as they began their return to Gotham. The sound of their lines faded, leaving him alone with nearly fifty captured attackers and the knowledge that far worse enemies were coming.
Peter contacted the police and warned them to send several transports to the factory. He then looked toward the cut-open personnel door and sighed beneath his mask. "Well, I guess that answers how I'm getting out," he muttered while waiting for the officers to arrive.
Detective Jean DeWolff's warning began moving through the NYPD before the sun came up. Precinct commanders across Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx were called before the morning shift change, while Transit and Harbor units received the same urgent briefing. Photographs from the abandoned factory appeared on secure monitors beside a list of known assassins who might be heading toward New York. Every captain received the same order: keep the bounty confidential, prepare for coordinated attacks, and make certain every officer understood the danger.
Captain George Stacy arrived at his precinct almost an hour before roll call, still wearing the tired expression of a man who had barely slept. DeWolff was waiting in his office with photographs of the captured gunmen, the burner phones, and the damage Spider-Man had left behind inside the factory. "Fifty armed men, and he took them all down without killing anyone," she explained as George examined the evidence. "According to Spider-Man, Hammerhead has opened a five-million-dollar contract, and some of the people coming for him may be far worse than these amateurs."
George slowly removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the weight of the situation settled over him. Only hours earlier, he had told Peter that Spider-Man was one man trying to protect an entire city, and now criminals from around the world were coming to kill that man. "Send everything we have to Emergency Services and the metahuman response teams," George ordered. "I want every hospital warned to prepare for mass casualties, and I want patrol units watching abandoned buildings for more traps."
By the time the morning shift assembled, every chair in the briefing room was occupied and several officers were standing along the walls. Conversations died when George entered and placed both hands on the podium, his expression telling them this was not an ordinary roll call. Behind him, the monitor displayed Spider-Man's image beside photographs of Hammerhead and several unidentified suspects. "Everything discussed in this room stays inside this department," George began. "A contract has been placed on Spider-Man's life, and people are already attempting to collect it."
A nervous murmur spread across the room, but George raised one hand and immediately restored silence. "These people will not care who gets caught between them and their target," he continued. "They may stage robberies, take hostages, start fires, or threaten innocent people simply to draw Spider-Man into the open. Our first responsibility remains the same as it has always been: protect the peace, protect the public, and make sure every officer standing beside you gets home safely."
George changed the screen, bringing up photographs of Rhino's demolished armor and the ruined street where Spider-Man had fought him. "If Spider-Man is fighting someone with abilities or equipment beyond ours, you will not charge into the middle of that battle to prove how brave you are," he said firmly. "Establish a perimeter, evacuate civilians, call Emergency Services, and provide accurate information over the radio. Your badge does not make you bulletproof, and I will not lose officers because someone ignored procedure."
Several officers nodded while others wrote down the orders being given, but George was not finished. "That does not mean we stand around and watch Spider-Man die," he told them, his voice growing harder. "If you have a safe opportunity to help him, then help him. Clear civilians from his path, restrain ordinary accomplices, block an escape route, provide medical aid, or give him cover when doing so will not create more victims."
George stepped away from the podium and looked across the faces of the men and women under his command. "I know some of you still have questions about Spider-Man, and I know a masked vigilante makes many of us uncomfortable," he admitted. "But he has saved civilians, protected officers, stopped Rhino, and cooperated with this department when he could have simply disappeared. Whatever else he may be, his actions have shown that he is fighting for this city."
His gaze moved slowly across the briefing room, making certain every officer understood what he was about to say. "Spider-Man has only been here a short time, and already he has risked his life more times than most people ever will," George said. "We cannot allow our city's hero to die because some gangster placed a price on his head. If he is willing to put himself between New York and these killers, then the least we can do is make certain he is not standing there alone."
One of the younger officers raised his hand and waited until George acknowledged him. "Captain, if we encounter Spider-Man after one of these attacks, are we supposed to detain him?" he asked, drawing several curious looks from around the room. George glanced briefly at DeWolff before answering, "Unless he commits a crime in front of you, Spider-Man is not your target. Take his statement, accept any evidence he provides, offer medical assistance, and let him continue protecting people."
George returned to the podium and rested his hands against its edges. "Spider-Man may be strong, but he is still one man, and no one survives forever without help," he said. "This department has thousands of officers, detectives, dispatchers, medics, and support personnel. We protect him by doing our jobs properly, denying these hunters easy victims, and making it impossible for them to turn our streets into their private battlefield."
The room remained silent for several seconds after George finished, but the fear from earlier had changed into focus. Sergeants began dividing responsibilities, patrol partners checked their equipment, and detectives collected folders containing the limited information available on Hammerhead's organization. Officers were warned to inspect false distress calls carefully and never enter abandoned buildings without backup. No one knew when the first professional hunter would arrive, but the NYPD intended to be ready when it happened.
Similar speeches were already ending in precincts throughout the city as captains sent their officers onto the streets. Patrol cars moved toward crowded districts, Transit officers watched subway entrances, and Harbor units inspected vessels arriving from outside New York. Dispatchers began flagging suspicious emergencies that might have been designed to attract Spider-Man. For the first time since the bounty had been opened, the city was quietly preparing to fight back.
George remained in the empty briefing room after everyone else had left, staring at the photograph of Spider-Man on the monitor. The masked hero appeared frozen in mid-swing, carrying an injured civilian away from Rhino's destruction while debris rained around him. George thought about how young Spider-Man sometimes sounded and wondered whether anyone was waiting for him to come home. "Stay alive, kid," he murmured before switching off the screen and heading out to protect the city alongside him.
The next morning, Peter returned home shortly before sunrise after spending the rest of the night changing patrol routes and checking repeatedly for anyone following him. Once inside his bedroom, he removed his mask and examined Batman's emergency card while thinking about everyone Hammerhead's hunters might use against him. Aunt May was always at risk simply because they lived together, but Gwen was the person he visited most often. If anyone followed him to her apartment, they would find her entire family waiting there.
When Peter woke several hours later, he found multiple messages from Gwen asking whether he had arrived home safely and if he wanted to visit again. He started typing an explanation about the contract on his life, but imagining Gwen worrying every time he left the house made him erase it. Instead, Peter told her that he was tired and needed to spend the day catching up on schoolwork. It was a weak excuse, and he knew Gwen would recognize it immediately.
Peter stared at her message before claiming that he also had errands to finish and promised to call her later. "Peter, did something happen last night?" she asked, clearly realizing that he was avoiding the real question. He replied that everything was fine, despite still feeling the bruises left by nearly fifty men trying to kill him.
When Gwen tried calling, Peter let the phone ring until it stopped and placed it facedown on his bed. He hated ignoring her, especially after the peaceful evening they had shared on her balcony. However, explaining the bounty would only frighten her and might convince her to place herself in danger to help him. Peter decided that a few days of distance would be painful, but it was better than leading an assassin to Gwen's home.
At breakfast, Aunt May noticed how often Peter glanced toward his silent phone and asked whether he and Gwen had argued. Peter forced a smile and claimed that everything was fine before finishing his food more quickly than usual. He hugged May before leaving and said that he planned to take photographs around the city, although his camera remained inside his backpack. After traveling several neighborhoods away, Peter changed into his suit and began patrolling routes that never passed near Gwen's apartment.
The increased police presence was obvious almost immediately, with patrol cars stationed near crowded intersections and officers watching subway entrances, bridges, and rooftops. Peter listened to their radio traffic through his mask and heard dispatchers warning units not to investigate suspicious emergencies alone. Detective DeWolff and Captain Stacy had acted faster than he expected, and their preparation relieved some of the pressure resting on his shoulders. Even so, Peter knew the police could not predict when or where the next hunter would appear.
Several quiet hours passed before Peter's spider-sense suddenly erupted while he swung across Midtown. He released his web line and twisted aside just as an electrified cable sliced through the space where his chest had been. The cable wrapped around a streetlight and discharged enough electricity to send sparks raining onto the sidewalk. Peter landed against a nearby building and looked up at the costumed man descending between the towers on an enormous green kite.
The stranger wore a winged harness and pointed helmet, while several smaller weaponized kites followed behind him on reinforced cables. Peter remained silent for several seconds as he tried to understand why anyone had designed the equipment, much less worn it in public. "Please tell me your name isn't what I think it is," Peter finally called. The man pulled back on his controls and proudly announced, "You're looking at Kite Man!"
"Of course I am," Peter muttered before jumping away from another electrified cable. Kite Man released three smaller kites carrying a metal net between them and shouted, "Nothing personal, Web-Head, but five million dollars is enough to change my life!" Peter shot webs onto both ends of the net and redirected it around a rooftop water tank. "Have you considered changing your life through education?" he asked. "I'm told several colleges offer excellent programs in not attacking teenagers with kites."
Kite Man fired a group of sharpened projectiles that curved through the air as Peter ran across the side of the building. Peter avoided each weapon and webbed them to the wall before they could fall toward the pedestrians below. One projectile still clipped the supports beneath a rooftop water tower, causing the structure to tilt dangerously over the street. Peter formed a wide web beneath it and pulled the tower back into place while Kite Man circled behind him.
A reinforced cable wrapped around Peter's waist and pulled him away from the wall before he could secure the final support. "Batman always made this look more difficult," Kite Man boasted as his motorized harness dragged Peter between the buildings. Peter grabbed the cable with both hands and gave it a powerful pull, forcing the glider to lose several feet of altitude. "Batman was probably trying to protect your self-esteem," Peter replied as Kite Man narrowly avoided crashing into a billboard.
Below them, officers immediately began clearing civilians from the intersection instead of firing blindly into the sky. Patrol cars blocked traffic while another officer radioed an accurate description of Kite Man's equipment and flight path. Peter noticed how calmly they responded and realized Captain Stacy's briefing had already changed how the police handled costumed battles. Their actions gave him enough room to fight without constantly worrying about civilians wandering beneath them.
Kite Man opened a compartment beneath his harness and released an explosive kite toward the officers establishing the perimeter. Peter abandoned his attack and dove after it, catching the weapon only a few feet above one of the patrol cars. He wrapped it in several layers of webbing before hurling it upward, where the explosion spread harmlessly across the empty sky. "Throwing bombs at the people trying to protect you from traffic was a terrible career decision," Peter warned as he turned back toward Kite Man.
Peter fired two web lines onto the glider's outer corners and pulled them together, folding the enormous kite around its pilot. Kite Man shouted as the glider lost its lift, but Peter caught him before he struck the pavement and lowered him onto the roof of an empty city bus. Several layers of webbing pinned the villain and his equipment against the metal. Peter leaned over him and said, "Good news—you successfully reached New York. The bad news is that your return flight has been cancelled."
The officers approached after Peter confirmed that Kite Man had been secured and his remaining explosives were disabled. One of them thanked Peter before explaining that every precinct had received orders concerning the bounty that morning. "Captain Stacy told us to stay clear if you're fighting someone beyond our ability," the officer said, "but he also told us that if we get a safe chance to help you, we take it." Peter looked toward the officers protecting the civilians and quietly replied, "Tell the captain I appreciate that more than he knows."
Peter's phone began vibrating inside the protected pouch beneath his suit, and Gwen's name appeared across his HUD once again. His hand moved toward it automatically, but he stopped when he noticed several reporters arriving at the police barricade. If someone had already begun studying his movements, even answering the wrong call at the wrong moment could provide another clue. Peter declined the call and sent Gwen a short message saying that he was still busy and would speak to her later.
Across the city, Gwen stared at the rejected call before turning toward the television, where a reporter was already covering Spider-Man's fight with Kite Man. She watched Peter joke with the police as though nothing was wrong, but she knew him well enough to recognize when his humor was hiding fear. Something had happened after he left her apartment, and whatever it was had convinced him that avoiding her would keep her safe. Gwen silently decided that she would give him until the end of the day to explain before confronting him herself.