The four masked men spun to see Spider-Man right there with them in the booth. Thor and Iron Man immediately pulled out weapons. Iron Man had a shotgun, and Thor a pistol. Before they could shoot, Spider-Man yanked the shotgun out of Iron Man’s hands and swung it like a baseball bat, knocking the pistol out of Thor’s grip. “I’m starting to think you guys aren’t the real Avengers,” he said.

He shot a web at Iron Man that went wide and landed on a desk behind the action. Iron Man started to come after Spider-Man, but Spider-Man gave his line a yank, and the desk crashed into Iron Man, knocking him flat. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that so hard,” Spider-Man said. He meant it sincerely.

But the robbers weren’t at all worried about hurting him. Cap still held the antigrav device. He swung it around and hit a switch. The floating chunk of the ATM, hundreds of pounds of steel, shot across the booth at Spider-Man. “Whoa!” he shouted, dodging. The hunk of steel cracked the bulletproof glass behind him. “Cool! What is that?” He webbed the device and pulled it out of Cap’s hands, unable to stop himself from checking it out. “How did you guys end up with tech like this? I mean, no offense, you seem great, but—”

The alarm on his phone went off. “Ooh, that’s my curfew,” Spider-Man said. “We should probably wrap this up.”

He kicked Cap across the booth and into the open front of the ATM. Cash exploded from the machine as all four robbers went after him, but they were no match for Spider-Man. In a few seconds they were all on the floor and he was barely breathing hard. He bent over and pulled off Iron Man’s mask. “How did you guys pick your masks?” he asked. “Like, what if two of you wanted to be Thor?”

This distraction nearly got him killed, as the Hulk had gotten up and grabbed the cutting tool again while Peter was looking at the Iron Man mask. He leveled it at Spider-Man, who dove aside at the last second. The cutting beam blew through the bulletproof glass and lanced across the street, tearing through a parked car and blasting through the front windows of Mr. Dalmar’s bodega.

The recoil knocked all the robbers down, and Spider-Man staggered to his feet to see the bodega burning and debris crashing down onto the sidewalk. “Mr. Dalmar!” he shouted. He ran across the street and into the wrecked bodega. Mr. Dalmar was dazed and trapped under fallen shelves. Spider-Man pulled him free and got him out onto the sidewalk.

When he looked across the street again, the robbers were gone. First-responder sirens sounded from every direction.

And to top it all off, his curfew alarm was going off again.

Peter was conflicted. He’d stopped a real robbery and found guys using crazy tech that had to be illegal. On the other hand, Mr. Dalmar’s bodega was in ruins, and at least two cars were on fire that he could see.

Being a Super Hero was way trickier than Peter had anticipated.

The sirens were getting closer. He had to get out of there before the police arrived. And he had to call Happy.

Surprisingly, Happy answered his phone. He was shouting at someone about something; Peter couldn’t tell what. “Happy, listen!” Peter said excitedly as he ran across rooftops. “Something big just happened! These guys were robbing an ATM, and they had these crazy weapons, and—”

Happy cut him off. “Peter, I don’t have time for an ATM robbery, or thoughtful notes you leave behind. I’ve got moving day to worry about, everything out of here by next week. We’re talking super-important, high-level security stuff.”

“Moving day? You’re moving?”

“Don’t you watch the news? Tony sold Avengers Tower. We’re relocating to the new facility upstate, where, hopefully, the phone service is much worse.”

“But what about me?” Peter asked. He was almost back to the alley where he’d left his stuff.

“What about you?”

“I mean, what if you need me? Or if something big goes down here and—” He dropped into the alley.

“Just stay away from anything too dangerous,” Happy said. “I’m responsible for making sure you’re responsible, okay?”

“I am responsible!” Peter protested. “I—” He looked around the alley, realizing the dumpster with his backpack—and his regular clothes—was gone. “Crap.”

“That doesn’t sound responsible,” Happy said drily.

“I’ll call you back,” Peter said.

“Feel free not to,” Happy responded, and hung up.

Disheartened, Peter stood in the alley for a moment. He had no clothes, Happy wouldn’t listen to him, and the Avengers were moving upstate. What was he supposed to do?

After a minute, he decided the only thing he could do was go home. yP+373YR7A1afX8WP/JZ3JS8bdregoFmhp05p5INIF/ZO+njJVW81kLn2y5ToDg7