The Spider-Grind

Morning light filtered through the blinds of Ethan's apartment, painting streaks of gold across the cluttered living room. Ethan sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the crumpled newspaper in his hands.

"Queens' New Hero: The WebWarden?" the headline blared, complete with a blurry photo of him swinging through the city.

Ethan groaned, the name felt wrong—clunky, uninspiring. He thought he could get used to it, but the cringe was too strong with it. He needed to do something about it, but right now, there were more pressing matters. The events of the warehouse fight still lingered in his mind, especially the weapons he'd encountered. Whoever was behind them wasn't playing around, and he wasn't going to wait for them to make the next move.

After a quick breakfast, Ethan suited up, pulling his mask over his face. He tightened the web shooters on his wrists, double-checked the adjustments he'd made the night before, and swung out into the city. The warehouse had given him some leads, but there was one name whispered by the thugs he'd taken down: Hammerhead.

The notorious crime boss wasn't just a rumor. Hammerhead had a reputation for ruthlessness and ambition, carving out a territory for himself in New York's underworld. If anyone was connected to the high-tech weapons, it was him.

Ethan spent the afternoon chasing whispers, moving between rooftops and dark alleys. His mask provided anonymity, but his growing presence in the city was starting to turn heads. He caught snippets of conversations, following a trail that led him deeper into Queens' industrial district.

By nightfall, Ethan found himself perched on the ledge of an old factory building. Below him, a group of men unloaded crates from an unmarked truck. His Spider-Sense tingled faintly, warning him of the danger.

He crouched low, observing the scene. The men were armed, their movements methodical. They weren't ordinary street thugs—they were professionals.

Ethan's eyes narrowed as he spotted someone stepping out of the shadows. He recognized the broad frame and distinct, flattened skull immediately. Hammerhead.

The crime boss barked orders, his voice carrying over the hum of machinery. "Get those crates inside. I want everything secure before midnight. The buyer doesn't wait, and neither do I."

Ethan watched, his mind racing. This wasn't just a random shipment—it was an organized operation. He couldn't let it continue.

He leapt silently from the ledge, using his webs to swing down behind a stack of crates. Keeping low, he moved closer, listening in on Hammerhead's conversation.

"This new tech is gonna put us ahead of the curve," Hammerhead was saying to one of his men. "With these weapons, no one in the city will dare challenge us. Not the cops, not the other families, not even these so-called heroes."

Ethan clenched his fists. He couldn't stand by and let this happen.

He fired a web, yanking a crate out of one thug's hands. The sudden noise drew everyone's attention, and Ethan stepped into the light.

"Evening, gentlemen," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I heard there was a party. Mind if I join?"

The thugs raised their weapons, but Hammerhead held up a hand, stopping them. "So you're the WebWarden, huh? I've been hearing about you. Cute name. A little too… soft, though, don't you think?"

Ethan tilted his head. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to someone about that. Not really my choice, but hey, maybe I'll come up with something scarier after I shut this operation down."

Hammerhead smirked, cracking his knuckles. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that. But you're messing with the wrong people."

He charged forward, faster than Ethan expected for a man his size. Ethan flipped out of the way, landing on the wall behind him.

"Whoa, big guy," Ethan said, firing a web at Hammerhead's legs. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to skip leg day?"

Hammerhead tore through the webbing with brute force, his enhanced strength making it seem like paper. "You're gonna regret that, punk."

The thugs opened fire, forcing Ethan to move. He swung across the room, using the crates for cover. His Spider-Sense flared, guiding him as bullets whizzed past. He fired a web at one of the thugs, disarming him and yanking the weapon out of his hands.

Hammerhead grabbed a metal pipe, swinging it like a baseball bat. Ethan ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. The pipe smashed into a crate, splintering it and sending shards of wood flying.

"Okay, definitely not just an ordinary guy," Ethan muttered, dodging another swing.

He fired a web at Hammerhead's face, momentarily blinding him. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ethan swung in with a kick, landing squarely on Hammerhead's chest. The crime boss staggered but didn't go down.

"You're tougher than you look," Ethan said, flipping backward to avoid a counterattack.

Hammerhead ripped the webbing off his face, his eyes blazing with fury. "You've got no idea who you're dealing with!"

The fight continued, with Ethan using his agility to stay one step ahead. He took out the remaining thugs one by one, webbing them to the floor and walls. But Hammerhead was relentless, his strength and durability making him a formidable opponent.

Ethan's mind raced as he looked for an opening. He couldn't overpower Hammerhead, but maybe he didn't need to.

He swung to the rafters, firing webs at the overhead lights. The room plunged into darkness, and Ethan activated the night vision in his mask. From the shadows, he watched as Hammerhead stumbled, his movements less coordinated without sight.

Ethan moved quickly, firing web after web to immobilize him. Hammerhead struggled, roaring in frustration as the webbing tightened around him.

"You think this is over?" Hammerhead growled. "You're just a bug on my windshield!"

Ethan landed in front of him, his mask reflecting the faint glow of the remaining lights. "Wrong! Spiders ain't bugs! And funny you say that. Bugs can be pretty venomous."

The words came out without thought, but they struck a chord. Venom. Spider-Venom. It had a nice ring to it.

"Tell your boss," Ethan said, stepping closer, "Spider-Venom doesn't like people playing with dangerous toys in his city."

Hammerhead snarled, but the webbing held firm. The sound of sirens in the distance signaled the arrival of the police.

Ethan swung away into the night, the name Spider-Venom settling in his mind. It wasn't just about a cooler name—it was about sending a message. He wasn't some soft, second-rate hero. He was here to protect the city, and anyone who crossed the line would feel his sting.