New York City Spider Man Novels & Stories

New York was a wound that never healed. It smelled of exhaust, wet concrete, and fried food that had been sitting too long. A city that chewed through people, then spit out their bones on the sidewalks. Perfect cover for me. I was hunting a man who thought he was untouchable—a kingpin who traded women like currency, who wore his cruelty like a designer suit. I’d been watching him for weeks. I had his routine memorized down to the minute. At 11:15 he stepped outside to smoke. At 11:28 his runner dropped an envelope. At 11:33 he checked his phone to make sure the alley camera still worked.

Their grins were suggestive. The woman was tall and lovely. A cloth stifled her mouth, her hair was a mess, and parts of her clothes were torn. The cold night air made her shiver, and fear filled her wide eyes. Logan knew exactly what was happening. A sinister and cruel act was imminent if he stood by. One of the men, clad in a jacket, glared at Logan, growling, "Don't play the hero, Spider-Man." "Yeah, get lost!" his companions jeered.

Some resemble Tía Rosa when she assumes no one notices her sobbing in the shower. Everyone wants me to go downstairs. I quietly get out of bed my bare feet chilling on the floor. My Spider-Man pajamas are oversized (a hand-me-down from when Tío Marco was young). I enjoy how the pant legs trail, like a cape. I creep to the door. The hallway night-light glows red well. Everything is red this evening. The steps groan,. No one stirs. They feel exhausted. They have felt exhausted since the troublesome balloon arrived. I am aware of the balloon.

New York City. Queens. A Safehouse in a Basement Apartment. Two Weeks Later. Rainy Night. The neon sign of a laundromat flickered outside the grimy window. Inside, the room was small, smelling of takeout Chinese food and damp concrete. It was a far cry from the penthouses and palaces they were used to. Jack was polishing his sniper rifle on the kitchen table. He was wearing a "I Love NY" t-shirt that was two sizes too small. "I hate this city," Jack grumbled. "Too many people. No trees. And the rats here are bigger than the wolves in Alaska."

I look through Alena’s files, the list of staff seeing what the old babysitter was called, then sitting and finding as much information on her and Jo as she had. Sending it to the lads I ask them to dig and find anything they can, sitting I spend the rest of my morning searching online articles about Spider, the times he was taken in for questioning but let go as no one was willing to give him up. Finding him on social media, I go through his pictures, picture after picture and I see Mary a lot. I keep going, the picture stopping me, this guy, he was sitting at the bar here, he is one of Alena’s inside security, Spider has everything covered. I need a way in this gang, a way to be trusted, a

She can't be more than six; at least she looks it though Lyon swears she's ten going on fifty. "What does she want this time?" Mancini is the only one who never seems wary of the girl and always has an indulgent smile on his face whenever her name comes up. "Darwin bark spiders." "What's she going to do with those?" Connor asked. Mancini was already looking it up online, while the others were all ears. The only one who seemed unaffected was Lyon, who went back to doing what he was doing after mumbling a few choice words under his breath.

I start to climb down, gripping the cloth rope with everything I have. Don’t look up, I tell myself. *Don’t look up.* But I do. He’s there. Peering out the window, knife in hand. And then I see something peeking from under his sleeve. A spider web tattoo on his wrist. The same one the man outside had days ago. He raises the knife. No—no, no, no He starts cutting the cloth. “Please!” I scream. “Don’t—” The rope snaps. My body freefalls.

“Calm down, son. This is for your protection. For everyone’s.” Kevin stood over him, and Jeff realized he was on his back. He thrashed, fighting against the restraints, pulling them opposite each other and trying to break loose. They were too strong. He struggled to sit up, but something was off. There was a heaviness in his stomach, and he recalled the feeling from his dream. “Dad, something’s wrong!” Jeff looked down and repressed a scream. “My stomach! It’s . . . ” ‘A spider’s cephalothorax is fused with its abdomen and makes up the lower portion of the arachnid.’ Mr. Drake’s voice echoed in his thoughts.

The gate slid open just as I got closer and I drove in, driving straight to the garage. I killed my engine, picking up my phone. I stared at the screen and it was Spider. I exchanged a glance with a Mason. "I guess my boy has gotten the job done," I said, picking up the call. That could only explain why he was calling and not texting me. "Spider," I called out "Boss, I have the location. I'm standing right at the apartment—it's in a quiet, tucked-away part of the city, and I just watched a man walk into the shabby building. What's my next move?" Spider asked, and I glanced back at Mason