The reality of a collapsing building was far worse than Peter had calculated. Within minutes of his departure, the Avengers cordoned off the block.
A quick note on the Avengers in this particular corner of the universe, since they're not quite what you might expect: The five who fought at the Battle of New York were Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Hulk, and Ant-Man, Hank Pym.
The Wasp, Janet van Dyne, wasn't officially a combatant but functioned as the team's operational coordinator, which in practice meant she was the one who made sure things actually got done. Captain America didn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D. He lived at Avengers Tower, where the coffee was better.
Bruce Banner wasn't present today. Thor wasn't even on Earth. That left three.
Hank Pym stood in the center of the shattered bank lobby. He tapped a button on his belt. The localized Pym-particle field collapsed, instantly snapping him from the size of an insect back to his normal height. His helmet folded back into the collar of his suit, revealing sharp features and light brown hair.
"I still recommend shrinking the entire building," Hank said, looking up at the massive white webs holding the load-bearing pillars together. "These tensile structures are organically degrading. They'll dissolve completely in under two hours. But the chemical composition... I've seen this before."
"I've already stabilized the foundation with Stark Industries repulsor-jacks," Tony Stark called down. He hovered a few feet off the marble floor, his armor gleaming in the morning light. He drifted toward the front doors, scanning the massive web-barrier. "I don't need the assist, Hank. Besides, look at this. The kid left the cops a note in web-cursive. You have to respect the penmanship."
Steve Rogers didn't look up at the webs. He sat sideways on his parked motorcycle, holding a Stark-pad. He was looping the bank's surviving security footage, watching the fight between the masked kid and the salvage crew.
"Seven minutes," Steve said quietly. His voice carried over the hum of Tony's thrusters. "He cleared an armed, organized crew in under seven minutes. He was gone before dispatch even routed the call to us."
"Give me sixty seconds, and I could have cleared it in one," Tony said, landing next to the motorcycle. The faceplate of his armor retracted with a sharp mechanical hiss.
"That's not the point," Steve said. He tapped the screen, freezing the footage on the exact frame Spider-Man's fist connected with Herman Schultz's jaw. "Look at his footwork. That's military close-quarters training. And look at the point of impact. He pulled the punch."
Tony leaned over. "So?"
"With the force he's generating to move that fast, a full-strength strike to the skull would have decapitated the man," Steve noted, his eyes narrowing. "He didn't even give him a concussion. He just knocked him out. He has complete control over a massive amount of physical power."
"So we have a competent vigilante," Tony shrugged. "I was mostly worried about how to scrub that sticky string out of my armor joints."
"It's Professor Richard Parker's formula," Hank said, walking over to join them.
Tony blinked. JARVIS immediately flashed a dossier onto the inside of his retinal display. "An entomologist? One of your lab buddies, Hank?"
"No," Hank corrected, crossing his arms. "He was a geneticist. A programming specialist. Guys like Curtis Connors, Miles Warren and Jonathan Drew studied under him. Parker was the lead researcher on the military's Super-Soldier Serum revival project. He was trying to use cross-species animal genetics to enhance human baselines."
"Wow," Tony deadpanned. "Never heard of him."
"His papers were classified by S.H.I.E.L.D.," Hank continued. "When I was consulting for them a few years back, I got access. He wrote a theoretical paper on synthesizing spider-silk proteins. The molecular structure he theorized is an exact match for the webbing holding up this roof."
Tony glanced at Steve. Steve's expression didn't change.
"Oscorp held the military contract for that serum project," Hank added. "Parker pulled out of the program a few years ago and went to S.H.I.E.L.D. He died in a plane crash three years ago."
"Well, consider me entirely unsurprised," Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. "So, this Spider-Man is just an Osborn black-ops super-soldier? JARVIS, book me a meeting with Norman Osborn."
"He's not a corporate weapon," Steve said firmly. "Look at the way he moves. Look at the webbing left to protect the civilians. He's acting on his own initiative."
"We'll see what Osborn says," Tony replied.
"I'm going to ask Fury," Steve said, sliding the tablet into his saddlebag. "And the NYPD. They have to have an active file on this kid by now."
Hank bent down and scooped a broken piece of the Shocker gauntlet off the floor. "I'm taking this back to the lab. The energy conversion on this is fascinating."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing rapidly louder.
"Looks like the local precinct finally woke up," Tony noted.
NYPD Headquarters, Lower Manhattan
Captain George Stacy rubbed a hand over his face and reached for his lukewarm coffee. His jaw was tight. Today was supposed to be Gwen's first day of high school. He had promised to drive her. Instead, his phone had blown up at six in the morning, dragging him in to process a crew of high-tech bank robbers.
Worse, the bank they nearly leveled was directly on Gwen's route to Midtown High. George had immediately called Ben Parker to make sure the kids were safe. If Ben hadn't confirmed Gwen was fine, George might have walked down to holding and broken protocol with the suspects.
A uniformed officer knocked on the open doorframe of the observation room. "Captain. The ringleader is awake."
George nodded. He stood up and looked through the one-way glass into the stark interrogation room. He wasn't conducting this one himself. He watched a heavy-set white detective and a lean black detective sit across the metal table from the suspect.
Herman Schultz sat in the metal chair. He wore a faded t-shirt and dirt-stained jeans. His dreadlocks were pulled back. He looked exactly like the kind of low-level street muscle the NYPD processed by the dozen every weekend.
"Name?" the white detective asked, pen hovering over a notepad.
"Herman Schultz."
Herman sat perfectly still. He wasn't fidgeting. He answered the questions with a flat, quiet dignity. He didn't look intimidated.
"Alright, Herman," the black detective said, leaning forward. "Where did you buy the gauntlets? Who's your supplier? How much did they run you?"
"I didn't buy them," Herman said. "I built them from scavenged alien materials."
The two detectives froze. They looked at each other. Then, simultaneously, they broke into loud, echoing laughter.
"Buddy, do you even hear yourself?" the black detective chuckled, shaking his head. "Those weapons nearly sheared a load-bearing column in half. You're telling me you built them?"
Herman's hands clenched into fists on the table. The chains of his cuffs rattled. "I built them. They are my design."
"That is the absolute worst alibi I have ever heard in this building," the white detective snorted, tossing his pen onto the table. "Look, I get it. You're terrified of whoever sold these to you. You don't want to rat them out. But you made them? Come on."
"I made them!" Herman shouted, his voice cracking like a whip inside the small room. He leaned forward against the table.
"No, you didn't, brother," the black detective said, his smile fading into a look of genuine pity. "Our evidence techs are down in the lab right now, and they can't even figure out the firing mechanism. You're a middle-school dropout who used to change oil filters. You expect us to believe you engineered this high tech weapon?"
Herman's chest heaved. He stared at the two men, his eyes burning with a cold, absolute fury.
"What?" Herman hissed. "You think only the trust-fund kids with the fancy degrees can build something that works? You think a black mechanic from Queens can't be the smartest guy in the room? Is that it?"
"Calm down, buddy. Nobody said anything about race," the white detective sighed, standing up. He grabbed Herman by the bicep. "You're getting defensive. We're putting you in holding until you decide to give up the real supplier."
Herman didn't fight back as they hauled him out of the chair. They walked him down the fluorescent-lit hallway and shoved him into a large group holding cell. The heavy iron door slammed shut.
His crew was already inside, sitting on the steel benches.
"Hey, Herman," Frank mumbled, rubbing a massive bruise on his forehead. "What's the play?"
Herman didn't answer. He stood by the bars. The laughter of those detectives rang in his ears. A middle-school dropout who used to change oil filters. Spider-Man had treated him the exact same way. They all looked right past him.
Herman reached out and smoothly pulled a bobby pin from the hair of a sleeping drunk slumped against the bars.
He turned his back to the security camera. He slid the pin into the keyhole of his handcuffs. His fingers moved with microscopic precision, feeling the tumblers. Herman Schultz was the finest lock-picker in New York City.
Click.
The cuffs fell away. Herman caught them before they hit the floor. He stepped up to the heavy iron cell door, slid the pin into the lock, and twisted.
Click.
The door drifted open.
A passing patrolman turned the corner. Before the cop could shout, Herman lunged. He grabbed the officer by the collar, spun him around, and locked his forearm around the man's throat. The cop struggled for three seconds before going limp.
Herman dragged him into the cell. He stripped the officer's heavy blue uniform jacket and hat, sliding them onto his own frame. He tossed the cop's ring of keys onto the bench next to Frank.
"You boys do what you want," Herman whispered, pulling the brim of the hat down low over his eyes. "If they ask you where I went, tell them anything you want."
"Where are you going, Herman?" Frank asked, staring at the keys.
"I'm going to do what I always do," Herman said coldly. "I'm going to prove to this city that I am the best engineer in the world."
Herman walked straight out the front doors of the precinct. It was shift change. The lobby was chaos. No one looked twice at a cop with his hat pulled low.
Forty minutes later, Herman ducked under a rusted chain-link fence and stepped into the basement of an abandoned construction site deep in Brooklyn. This was his private workspace. His crew didn't even know it existed.
He walked past a tarp covered in stolen Chitauri plasma cores and repulsor tech. He stopped, staring at the glowing alien metal.
He raised his boot and violently kicked the crate over.
"You don't need their scraps, Herman," he muttered to himself. "You're better than that."
He walked over to a plywood desk illuminated by a single, flickering bulb. He sat down. The fight with Spider-Man played on a loop in his mind. The kid was fast. The kinetic recoil of the gauntlets had thrown Herman off-balance, making him a slow, grounded target. He needed to fix the recoil. He needed a system that absorbed the kinetic blowback and redistributed it.
He needed armor.
Herman grabbed a pencil and a stack of drafted blueprints. His hand flew across the paper.
The suit needs to absorb kinetic shock to prevent internal ruptures. A padded, quilted synthetic weave. The gauntlets need to be streamlined. Wrist-mounted, not hand-held. Recalibrate the transmission frequency...
He worked for hours. The sun rose high over the city, light bleeding through the basement grates.
When Herman finally dropped the pencil, his hands were cramping. He stared down at the finished schematic.
It was perfect. A fully integrated kinetic shock-suit.
Herman smiled. It wasn't a warm expression.
"I didn't invent the shockwave," Herman whispered to the empty room. "I'm just going to become it. They can call me the Shocker."
PS: Here's a deep-dive into the Avengers timeline. In this specific fanfic universe, the Avengers roster during the Battle of New York includes Hank Pym (Ant-Man) and Janet van Dyne (The Wasp) alongside the heavy hitters. This is actually a massive nod to the original comic book Avengers from 1963! In The Avengers #1, the founding members were Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Ant-Man, and Wasp. Captain America didn't actually join until issue #4 when they found him frozen in the ice.