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A Rider Kick in Marvel ch 65
🕑 Added 2024-07-08 22:18:26 +0000 UTC“Is the coast clear?”
“Yeah, it's clear.”
Under the cloak of night, two shadowy figures slinked silently across the rooftops. Their forms are barely discernible in the darkness, these two individuals were no ordinary travelers of these rooftops. They were in fact, two thieves who had just completed a daring heist at a nearby jewelry store. Tightly gripped in their hands was a bulging bag brimming with glistening jewels. Suddenly, the piercing wail of the alarm shattered the stillness of the night, prompting the duo to quicken their pace in a desperate bid to flee the scene undetected.
Flint Marko and Aleksei Sytsevich are the two individuals we need to remember. Flint Marko is a wiry and sinewy man, standing around 6 feet tall, with a lean and weathered physique. His eyes, a piercing blue, often carry a guarded or calculating expression, reflecting a lifetime of navigating the rougher side of life in the city. Aleksei Sytsevich stands noticeably taller than Marko, at around 6 feet 5 inches, with a broad and muscular build that suggests a history of physical labor or possibly a background in competitive sports. His powerful arms and thick neck give him a formidable presence as well. His hair is dark and cropped short, adding to his no-nonsense appearance.
“One getaway jump and to the next building, and we’re a million bucks richer! We are going to be stinkin' rich!” said Marko
“You got that right.” replied Aleksei
Before they could jump Flint started wondering. “What about the spiders? Do you think they will show up?”
“Don't say that you'll jinx us!”
“Right, you are, little thieves.”
“Spider-Man!”
Just as they had feared, Spider-Man appeared on the scene. He perched on a nearby wall, peering down at them. Upon hearing the alarm, he swiftly made his way to the source of the commotion. As he looked down, he caught sight of Flint and Aleksei carrying bags, and he immediately suspected that they contained stolen goods.
“Hey guys, it's such a beautiful night. You should be out stargazing, not robbing banks.”
“Shut up, webhead! This money is ours!” said Marko.
“Wow, someone's grumpy. Maybe you should try yoga or something. Or better yet, jail time! It's surprisingly good for reflection.”
“Raagh!” Flint Marko sprang forward with determined aggression, his fists swinging in a flurry of strikes aimed at the web-slinger. Spider-Man, ever agile, leaped over Marko's oncoming assault with ease, a smirk playing on his lips as he deftly wove strands of webbing around Marko, cocooning him in place.
Spider-Man: "Nice hustle, but I've seen quicker moves at bingo night."
Meanwhile, Aleksei Sytsevich charged forward, his muscles bulging with each powerful step. Spider-Man's response was swift and acrobatic—a gravity-defying backflip that seemed to defy the laws of physics. As Aleksei stumbled past, momentarily off balance, Spider-Man executed a precise leg maneuver that sent the Russian hurtling into the nearest wall with a resounding thud.
Spider-Man: "Sorry, big guy, but I think you missed your stop. Next time, try the express lane."
With both adversaries securely webbed up and immobilized, Spider-Man surveyed his handiwork with a satisfied grin.
“Well, that should hold you till the police arrive. Enjoy the stars while you can. Hard to enjoy them in a prison cell.”
“Just wait until I get my hands on you! You skinny little creep!” said Aleksei.
“Haa… this ain't a good night.” said Marko.
He swung away into the night, leaving Flint Marko and Aleksei Sytsevich to stew in their sticky predicament on the rooftop.
Marko and Aleksei found themselves confined in a dimly lit prison cell, their frustration palpable in the echoing grumble of their voices. They lamented the thwarted heist, their anger directed squarely at Spider-Man.
“Damnit! If it wasn't for that webhead, we would've pulled it off. What do we do now?” Marko growled, his voice tinged with resentment.
Aleksei's response was laden with resignation. “What else can we do? We're just a couple of thugs. We ain't got nothin' to our name.”
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. A guard appeared at their cell door, unlocking it with a jangle of keys, his expression as puzzled as theirs.
“Hey, you two. Get out. Your prison time's been revoked,” the guard announced.
“What? How?” Aleksei demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion.
The guard shrugged. “Don't ask me. Someone bailed you out.”
The unexpected turn of events left Marko and Aleksei exchanging bewildered glances, wondering who could possibly have come to their rescue and what this unexpected freedom might entail.
They exited the police station into the cool evening air, their eyes immediately drawn to a sleek black limousine parked nearby. A woman stood beside it, holding a sign bearing their names. With a subtle gesture, she beckoned them to approach, her demeanor cool and composed.
Marko and Aleksei exchanged uncertain glances but followed her silent direction, entering the luxurious vehicle. Inside, seated comfortably, was a man in a sharply tailored mafia suit, his distinctive square head marking him as Hammerhead. He exuded an air of authority and confidence that filled the car.
“Hello, boys,” Hammerhead greeted with a gravelly voice that carried weight.
Marko wasted no time. “Did you get us out?”
Hammerhead nodded, his expression inscrutable. “Yes, you can call me Hammerhead.”
Aleksei, his accent thick with Russian grit, cut in skeptically. “Why bail us out? I'm sure you're not a good Samaritan.”
Hammerhead leaned back, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “I heard you two had a run-in with Spider-Man. I'm looking for a couple of guys who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty with those web crawlers.”
Marko raised an eyebrow. “Why us?”
“My boss has been keeping tabs on you,” Hammerhead explained in a voice tinged with mafia authority. “Consider it your lucky day. Agree to take care of those spiders, and I promise you power, real power. Enough to make those spider freaks look like amateurs.”
Marko's eyes gleamed with determination. “We're in. We'll do anything to take those web creeps down!”
Aleksei's grin was menacing, his Russian accent thickening with resolve. “I've always wanted some payback.”
Hammerhead smirked, a gesture that spoke volumes. “Welcome to the big leagues.”
…
In the quietude of the Parker residence, Peter lay sprawled across his bed, still clad in his Spider-Man suit. Exhausted from the previous night's escapades, he slept deeply, the occasional snore punctuating the silence.
“ZZZ Snoring”
A gentle knock on his bedroom door stirred him from slumber. Aunt May's voice, warm and concerned, filtered through the wood. "Peter, sweetie, are you awake? Breakfast is ready, and I don't want you to be late for school. I’m coming in."
Startled, Peter's eyes snapped open, realization dawning as he noticed his superhero attire. Quickly, he scrambled to cover himself with the blankets. “Aunt May! I’m not… decent.”
Aunt May chuckled softly as she entered, a knowing smile on her lips at Peter's flustered state. “Alright, calm down. There’s breakfast waiting downstairs. I’ll be at Mrs. Watson’s if you need me.”
As Aunt May closed the door behind her, Peter let out a relieved sigh, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Phew~”
Peter descended the stairs and entered the cozy dining room, where the aroma of freshly made waffles wafted through the air, making his mouth water involuntarily.
“Mmm… waffles. Huh?” Peter noticed a stack of letters on the kitchen counter and picked them up. They were bills—past due notices for the house expenses: gas, phone, electric.
Peter frowned, a sense of responsibility settling over him. “Bills… I need to help Aunt May get some cash.”
Just as he heard Aunt May approaching, he quickly hid the bills behind his back, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Ah, Peter, good you’re awake,” Aunt May greeted warmly as she entered the room. “Now hurry up and eat your waffles. You’re going to be late.”
Peter nodded, forcing a smile. “I will, Aunt May.”
As Aunt May bustled around the kitchen, Peter pondered how he could contribute to easing their financial strain while enjoying the breakfast lovingly prepared by his aunt.
As Peter swung through the bustling streets of New York, his mind buzzed with worry over Aunt May and their mounting bills.
"Ugh, we're behind on the bills again," Peter muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting to the constant strain he saw in Aunt May's eyes. "I want to help her so badly, but finding a job is almost impossible when you're swinging around the city every night as Spider-Man. Every time I get close to landing something, my 'great responsibility' comes knocking, and I have to bail. How can I help Aunt May if I can't even hold down a simple job? I just wish there was a way to do both."
A sudden gust of wind blew a newspaper into his face, briefly disorienting him. With a deft maneuver, he regained control and landed gracefully on a nearby rooftop.
“What is this?” Peter peered at the newspaper now in his hand, his eyes quickly scanning the job posting for the Daily Bugle: "Freelance photographer needed. Pictures of the Spiders and Kamen Rider will be paid."
A spark of excitement ignited within him. "This could be it! Who gets closer to the action than Spider-Man?" Peter grinned to himself, a plan forming in his mind. “I can get photos of myself—uh, Spider-Man—and sell them to the Bugle. It’s perfect! I can help with the bills and still keep an eye on the city. Now, time to take some pictures."
