Peter always knew that this moment would come.
Herman Schultz—the Shocker—was his first real supervillain. The street-level thugs and bicycle thieves were behind him. He just didn't know if he was actually ready for the major leagues.
Well, time to find out.
Peter pushed off the inner wall of Midtown Bank. He sprinted sideways along the curve of the circular lobby. Below him, Herman tracked his movement, his gauntlets whining. Shockwaves blasted outward, tearing jagged craters into the intricately patterned plaster ceiling. Peter ducked behind a massive marble pillar just as a concussive blast ripped it cleanly in half.
"You know, Herman? I was really feeling the Roman aesthetic!"
Peter didn't wait for the dust to settle. He leaped out, fired a web-line to the ceiling, and swung forward boots-first. He caught Shocker square in the chest. Herman stumbled two steps back. Peter capitalized immediately, launching forward with a powerful right hook directly to Herman's helmet.
Crack.
Peter staggered, shaking his throbbing fist in absolute disbelief.
"How did you—"
"Gold-titanium alloy, kid." Herman squared his stance. The gauntlet hummed, and he threw a brutal uppercut. The blow caught Peter under the chin, launching him backward through the air.
Mid-flight, Peter twisted, shot a web at the broken upper half of the marble pillar, and violently slung the three-ton stone block directly at Herman.
Herman planted his feet, pulled his fist back, and punched the air. The shockwave instantly vaporized the marble into a cloud of white dust. But the dust provided perfect cover. A web shot through the cloud and splattered perfectly across Herman's visor, blinding him.
"Quick question. If your punches hit that hard and your armor is that tough—"
Peter dropped silently onto Herman's back. He slapped a web onto Herman's charged, glowing fist, pulled hard, and yanked the gauntlet right up into Herman's own helmet.
"How about you punch yourself for a second?"
The concussive blast detonated against Herman's face. Peter backflipped away as Herman stumbled. To Peter's utter shock, Herman simply ripped the webbing off his visor and laughed.
"The kinetic mesh in my armor dissipates the force, bug! Internal or external, it doesn't matter!"
"Awesome!" Peter fired twin web-lines, snagging another chunk of marble debris. "Does that mean I can hit you as hard as I want?"
"I'd focus on surviving!"
The energy indicators on the gauntlets flashed an angry, glowing red. Herman slammed both fists straight down into the floor. A massive concussive wave ripped through the lobby, blowing out the remaining teller glass and turning the fallen marble into shrapnel. A yellow blur lunged through the chaotic smoke. Even with his spider-sense screaming, Peter couldn't flip away in time. Herman tackled him hard into the floor, pinning him down and raising a glowing fist high.
"Say goodbye, Spider-Man!"
"I usually prefer 'say cheese'!"
Peter fired web-shooters from both wrists simultaneously, completely gumming up the charging gauntlet and deflecting the aim. He pulled his knees into his chest and kicked upward with both feet, launching Herman violently into the ceiling. Peter rolled backward, popping up into a crouch and rubbing his aching jaw. "Okay, the guy is way too fast. My spider-sense barely gave me a second. Not good."
He sprang to the side just as the ceiling groaned. Herman dropped straight down through the crater he had just made, landing heavily on the lobby floor without a scratch.
"You think I'm still some street punk?" Herman growled, rolling his shoulders. "I hit just as hard as you do! Harder!"
"Question, Herman," Peter said, backing up to buy a second of recovery time. "I figured you were knocking over a bank because you needed cash. But now it feels like you just really want to beat me up. Why?"
"I need the cash. But I could make cash anywhere with this suit."
"You could make money without the suit! You built this tech! You're a genius, man. You could write your own ticket anywhere."
Herman chuckled—a bitter, hollow sound. He dropped his guard slightly, tilting his head. "You aren't Black under that mask, are you?"
"Uh..."
"You're probably looking at university, maybe student loans. You can pay those off. I don't even have a high school diploma." Herman paced laterally, keeping his distance. "Think about it. You think Stark, Osborn, or the Baxter Foundation is gonna hire a Black middle school dropout?"
"That shouldn't matter! Your tech proves what you can do! Look at this gear, the engineering is incredible!"
"Yeah. It is." Herman nodded slowly. Then, he clenched his fists. The gauntlets whined into the red again. "But there's only one problem. If the Shocker makes the headlines, nobody asks for Herman Schultz's resume!"
He threw a straight punch. A shockwave blasted forward. Peter spun out of the path, sticking to a nearby pillar. Herman charged, demolishing the column with a backhand swing.
"If they don't want Herman, let them be terrified of the Shocker!"
Peter leaped off the crumbling marble, aiming to vault over Herman's head. But he underestimated the suit's hydraulic leap. Herman launched himself upward, intercepting Peter mid-air, and swatted him out of the sky. Peter crashed hard into the steel frame of the blown-out vault.
This isn't working. I need something he can't break.
Peter looked at the massive, multi-ton steel vault door Herman had blown off its hinges earlier. He looked back at Herman, who was already charging him. Peter fired two thick web-lines, anchoring Herman's gauntlets to the floor. Herman yanked his arms, finding the webbing firmly glued to the marble tiles. He immediately triggered a pulse to blow the silk apart.
"You think these little tricks—"
"Not a trick, Herman!"
Peter shot webs onto the three-meter-tall vault door and violently hauled it forward. The massive slab of steel flew across the room. Herman tried to raise his gauntlets, but he was a fraction of a second too late. The vault door slammed into him like a freight train, knocking him flat on his back and pinning him to the floor.
Breathing hard, Peter unloaded his web-shooters, anchoring the heavy steel door to the floor with thick, layered webbing.
"Think about it, Herman," Peter panted, hands on his knees. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to be a supervillain to be seen."
From under the steel slab, Herman's voice sounded muffled but entirely calm. "What else is there? When we first met, you thought I bought this tech from someone else."
"I just didn't expect—"
"I know." Herman paused. "You're a good kid. Not like those cops who laughed in my face when I told them I built my own weapons. You're the kind of guy who helps old ladies cross the street."
"I... actually did that on Tuesday."
"Wanna see something cool?" The gauntlets began to hum with a deafening, vibrating frequency under the door. "You're right about the vault door. I can't break it."
"Uh oh."
"But the floor? That's just concrete over an underground parking garage."
A localized earthquake ripped through the foundation. The entire first floor of the bank caved in. Peter leaped desperately for the cracked ceiling as the marble floor collapsed into the underground level. Then, from the settling dust cloud, the enormous vault door rocketed upward, propelled by a massive, concentrated seismic blast.
It flew straight at Peter. He contorted his body, narrowly dodging the spinning steel.
The door didn't stop. It crashed completely through the front facade of the bank building.
Outside, Captain George Stacy stood behind the police barricade, radio in hand. "Spider-Man is still inside with Herman Schultz. Keep the perimeter tight..."
He frowned at the deep rumbling sound echoing from the bank. Suddenly, the front wall exploded. A massive steel vault door flew out into the street.
"Look out! Move, move, move!"
Cops scrambled. The vault door annihilated a patrol car, skipped off the asphalt, and embedded itself halfway into the brick wall of the building across the street. Spider-Man landed gracefully on top of the embedded steel, still shooting webs onto the door to secure it.
Captain Stacy stared at the smoking wreckage. "Whose building is that?"
"Roxxon Energy, Captain. I'll get a squad on it."
Stacy turned back to the ruined bank, wiping concrete dust from his coat. "What is happening in there?"
Crouched on the vault door, Peter narrowed his eyes. Through the swirling dust of the bank's blown-out wall, a heavy, yellow-armored figure stepped out onto the street. The gauntlets whined.