Miles deposited his backpack of supplies on a Manhattan rooftop a few blocks away, webbing it to a vent. As he looked back at it, one foot stepping up onto the railing and preparing to swing away, some gut feeling told him it would be a while before he came back for it.
Nerves. It was just nerves, he tried to tell himself. Cracking his neck side to side, he stepped off the edge and swung towards his destination. He enjoyed the afternoon sun that warmed his body, letting himself swing just that little bit slower on the way.
When he got into Times Square, he quickly found the designated spot. Barricades had been set up from the Red Steps to 46th Street with police officers standing intermittently along the barriers to keep the growing crowd of people at bay.
A few people spotted him, excitedly pointing, and a cheer went up. His cheeks warmed and he was grateful for the mask that kept his expression hidden. He really didn't want a crowd, but the chance to meet the surviving spider-themed hero had enticed many.
That was the point, he supposed. Draw him out of his element and make him face a villain in a public setting.
He dropped down to the ground in a roll, springing up to his feet in the same movement. He looked around for a moment, trying to decide what to do while he waited for Kravinoff. Then he spotted a familiar police officer - the one he had hauled out of the way of the car.
"Uh, hi," he started, casually approaching him.
"Spider-Man," he greeted, tipping his hat at him.
Miles gestured broadly to the scene. "I wasn't expecting this. Look, I'm sorry for all this, really, I would rather it be anywhere else."
The officer only gave him an amused smile. "You're fine. Normally we have to set up barricades in a rush, this is a nice change of pace."
"Right, yep." He couldn't stop himself from wringing his fingers together. "Just, you know, thank you."
"Anytime. Good luck, Spider-Man."
He began to turn around to go to a better spot when he heard a "Spider-Man! Spider-Man! How true are the rumors that you were involved in the facility full of super-powered children! Spider-Man!"
He took a deep breath, looking up to see an obnoxiously big camera on the shoulder of a bulky man and a petite journalist with a microphone in her hand leaning over the barrier. Was it a good idea to talk to them? Probably not. Did he have to at least get his own story out there? Yes.
Reluctantly he approached the barrier. "I have been involved in trying to take them down, yeah," he evasively answered.
"And is this fight linked to that?" she asked, pushing the microphone closer to his face.
He shrugged. "At this stage, I don't know. I had never even heard of him before Sunday."
"Does he really know your secret identity?"
He couldn't help but nervously rub the back of his neck. "He might. I hope he doesn't. Um, anyway, I'm going to go. Please keep well away from the fight!" He unceremoniously turned and walked away, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes, if not thousands, watching him go.
He kept an even pace, despite wanting to jog out some of his nerves. Instead, he climbed up to the top of the Red Stairs and sat on top of the railings.
Swinging his legs back and forth, he kept an eye on the crowd that excitedly waited for the fight. He felt like a wrestler in a WWE show, surrounded by adoring fans that were ready for a good match. Except he was an unwilling participant.
YOU ARE READING
The Eyes of New York
Fanfiction"Round and round in circles they went. Circles they would continue to spin in, webs weaving and crossing and tangling them both. The cycle would continue until all that would be left was the husks of who they once were. He was a husk of what he want...
