Chapter 2
Peter awoke from a light sleep at-he checked his phone-3 am. He sighed heavily, knowing the possibility of going back to sleep was slim to none. He pulled out his Spider-Man suit (glorified pajamas, honestly) and shoved his backpack into a storm drain, where it would be safe from other homeless people and thieves. Everything he owned, including the little bit of money he had managed to save, was in that backpack. He literally could not afford to lose it.
He swung around for a bit, almost hoping to find someone in need of help. Not that he was hoping for someone to be in danger, of course not, but he was just bored. Bored, until his super-hearing picked up on the sounds of whimpering and the snick of a knife being unsheathed. He quickly swung over to an alley about 3 blocks from where he was, finding a woman with her back pressed against the brick wall. A man almost twice her size was standing there, telling her to give up her purse so he wouldn’t have to hurt her. Peter, never one to perform a quiet rescue, yelled out and made his presence known.
“Hey! Mr. Criminal! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” He grimaced behind the mask, judging himself for that lame and cliche line. Not to mention Peter was definitely half this guy's size. Without his superpowers, he’d be just as much of a victim as the woman. The man slowly turned around, keeping his knife trained on the woman. He gave Peter a once over and apparently decided he wasn’t much of a threat.
“Go home, kid. This definitely doesn’t concern you.” The man said in a low, gruff voice. Just the type of voice Peter expected from a knife-wielding criminal. “Well you see, you're in my city, so it kind of does.” Feeling a bit prouder of that line, Peter slowly walked forward and tried to signal for the woman to run. She seemed to get the hint and took off at an alarming pace, the sound of her high heels clicking against the pavement slowly disappearing after a few seconds.
The man lunged forward to try and catch her, but Peter was already a few seconds ahead of him. He ran up to the man and punched him straight in the face, knocking him to the ground. They fought, both of them trying to gain control of the knife. Peter yelped as a sharp stinging pain made itself known in his right forearm. The man caught him off guard and busted his lip open, smearing blood on Peter’s face. Now, he was really pissed. After a few well-placed punches that he did not pull, the man was unconscious on the ground in front of Peter. He hadn’t meant to knock the guy out, but hey, he was just stabbed and that was a little annoying.
A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over Peter, reminding him that he only got a solid 3 hours of sleep. He decided to leave the man there after confiscating the knife, hoping that beating beat up by a kid in pajamas would deter his robbing for a few nights. He returned to the storm drain and retrieved his backpack, relieved that it was still there. He found the park bench he had been sleeping on and settled in for the night, dreaming of Iron Man flying through the sky.