But… It’s me! The real Spider-Man!

I decided to spend the next morning trying to protect myself and my development from Gwen's indiscretions. I had to patent my invention as soon as possible: a sticky liquid that turns into an ultra-strong and ultra-lightweight thread when it comes into contact with air. It would be unpleasant if it were done by some clever person who managed to figure out the composition of the web, many samples of which Gwen is scattered around the city. Which is very likely, given the very long decay time of the current version of the web: almost ten hours.

Patenting the invention, as it turns out, is not a quick thing to do; you have to consider the multiple bureaucratic delays, which I've never liked doing.

At the appointed time I went to the band's rehearsal again, this time with the ready lyrics to their song. And I pretty much surprised the girls. Even after yesterday's demonstration, they still had doubts that it was realistic to write the lyrics to the song in the time frame given.

Mary Jane's rendition was very different from the original, but didn't make it feel like a poor quality cover. I liked it, in general, and I told the girls about it. But the question came up: how should the song be distributed? Performances in clubs, of course, are good, but even in the case of a successful start, the road to fame is still a slow process. To my suggestion to distribute a new song through the Internet, the reaction was negative. Of course not! Consider it a freebie. I didn't immediately dissuade them. I could not do all the work for the girls; I had already given them a ready-made song.

During rehearsal, Wilson texted me, giving me the address of my new lab. After saying goodbye to the future rock stars, I told the mercenary I'd be there in a couple of hours, hailed a cab, and headed in the right direction. On the way, I stopped at an old container yard. Even though Richard hadn't left me any clues in the world, there was a chance -and a good one - that his belongings would be stored in the same place. I didn't hold out much hope, but I had to check, and I still remembered the address and container number.

After asking the cabbie to wait for my return, I went in search of it. Since I had no key, I planned to pick the lock and brought a crowbar with me. In obedience to my hunch and my vast experience I did not go through the main entrance, but got inside by sneaking over one of the low walls enclosing the open-air warehouse.

Having found the right container, which was not easy, I was about to start breaking in, when suddenly I heard an unfriendly voice behind me:

"Surprise, Motherfucker!"

I jumped from surprise. What do you want? I'm planning an illegal breaking and entering here, naturally any noise at a time like this can be frightening, my nerves are on edge!

I turned toward the voice and stared at the shaved-headed cop who had tried to stop us on our way out of Cindy's lair not so long ago. There was an expression of barely contained glee on the cop's face. I didn't even have time to think of an excuse to explain my actions before the woman lunged forward.

This time she made no allowance for the fact that I was a guy. I tried to push her away, waving my hand with the crowbar, but the woman was not frightened. After stopping for a second, she let the heavy implement pass in front of her face, and then went into close range. She moved so quickly and precisely that I could only mark her blows by flashes of pain. A few seconds later I was lying on my back, desperately trying to comprehend what had happened, and the satisfied policewoman was strutting around, playing with the crowbar she had taken.

"There you are," she said curtly, as if she were shouting commands. "Did you think you could get away with assaulting a cop?"

How did she track me down? Oh, man! You always have to pay for good deeds.

"So?" I answer with a challenge. "What have you got? Your word against mine! I have done nothing, it was you who attacked a civilian."

"We'll see about that now," she smirks. "What are you hiding here, Parker?" Oh great, she knows who I am!

The officer, deftly wielding a crowbar, quickly opens the container. The lock doesn't take long to hold up under the onslaught of the experienced woman. At the same time she remembered to keep me in her field of vision, carefully tracking my every move as I stood up, leaning my battered shoulder against the container wall.

There's nothing to think about overpowering her in a fight. This woman is no ordinary cop; she is clearly a professionally trained fighter. If something illegal is found in the container, the only hope is a web-shooter with a taser. Finally, the lock clicks and falls to the ground, and the policewoman immediately tosses aside the crowbar and reaches for her gun holster.

Well, no, that won't do. I immediately shoot her with the web of my right hand and activate the taser with my left. Alas, I didn't have time to set everything up for one-handed use.

The woman twitches to the side, but not fast enough. The speed of the web is too fast for an ordinary person, even a trained one, to successfully execute an evasive maneuver. But I noted that she managed to turn sideways toward me. What did I say: a professional. She stood up so as to represent the smallest target area, and put her shoulder to the intended shot.

This time, the power of the stun gun was at maximum. I think it took me about ten or fifteen minutes to disarm it. But not relying on chance, I thoroughly search the woman for recording devices, which, to my surprise, she does not have. If I were her, I would definitely grab a couple and try to get the alleged perpetrator to talk.

When I was done with the search, I tied the woman up with the wire I found inside the container, and collected all the conductive webbing so as not to leave any evidence behind. Speaking of the container. It didn't even belong to my father. Just an enclosed steel box set up as a storage unit for the belongings of one Jimmy DiGrease. No use to me. But I had to check it out.

Now, as for the over-zealous policewoman who remembered my face and figured out my identity. If she had irrefutable evidence, they would have taken me in the proper way instead of playing detective games. What she has now thrown out is nothing less than illegal harassment. Nevertheless, it's worth considering her and her kind in the future. Since I'm on the cops' radar, I should make sure I don't keep anything compromising at home. Nothing should link Peter Parker to crime.

Leaving the officer to ponder his mistakes, I leave the warehouses the same way. Time is short, Doakes is about to wake up, so I decide to use the web for this purpose. This is probably the most awkward of Spider-Man's climbs in history. It's a good thing no one can see me at this point. The spider web used to climb the walls is also taken with me.