Chapter Text
Nothing could beat New York City during the holiday season. It was the week after Thanksgiving, and the winter chill was starting to rear its head into each burrow. The holiday decorations were being put out in droves, with tinsel already covering each storefront and wreaths displayed on every lamppost. The Avengers-themed ornaments were already out on display in Times-Square; the giant Captain America shield ornament was shining brightly against the sun, the exclusive Hallmark Hulk was flexing his muscles with a Santa hat on, and Tony Stark Tinsel was being sold for $19.99 at the stand by the red steps.
Central Park was packed that Saturday morning, enthusiastic crowds pouring into Foley Square. The New York City mayoral elections were a few days away, and the candidates were getting their final pushes across to potential voters in order to secure an election victory ahead of Tuesday evening. Ever since the Battle of New York in 2012, New York had become a hotbed for Superhero-related politics; mayors had come and gone, not staying in office long due to the pressures that had come with leading the world’s greatest city in the age of superheroes, gods and enemies that the world had never seen before. The Sakovia Accords were becoming undone, having come under fire following the events of the Blip that had left over 4 million New Yorkers missing. It was a crucial time; it was the first election following the return of all of those who were Blipped away and since the repeal of the Accords, and much had to be done in order to continue rebuilding the city.
The crowd started to head towards the stage, the event slated to start any minute now. Barricades surrounded the crowd, many people holding up signs and chanting for the expected speaker of the morning. Applause began to break out when the rally’s host of the evening - J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle - stepped in front of the microphone, giving it a tap before speaking. “Ladies and gentleman, it is an incredible honor for me to be standing here before you today. I’ve had many memorable moments in my career, most notably my recent coverage of the Spider-Menace - but I must say that today may truly take the cake. I have been given the honor of introducing the man that you’ve all been waiting to hear from, and a man who I now consider a good friend. Ladies and gentleman, your next Mayor, Mr. Wilson Fisk!”
Applause broke out again as a towering man in a bright white suit stepped up to the podium, a sweeping view of all of those cheering for him on display as we see the back of his suit, “Fisk For NYC” signs being waved back and forth in front of him.
….
It was Tuesday afternoon, and police sirens were wailing outside of the Central Bank on Fifth Avenue. Inside of the bank were five armed men brandishing guns and wearing red ski masks with snowflakes drawn onto each one, holding those inside hostage.
“Release the hostages!” Said an officer through a megaphone as he hid behind the door of his car. Shots rang out into the air from inside the bank, breaking a window inside as everyone outside ducked for cover.
“In five minutes, we’re outta’ here! If you want these people to live, stay out of it!” Said one of the men, a tall fellow with black boots and a pistol in his hand. “Hurry up over there!” He yelled to the shorter man in the green shoes who was scavenging the vault of the bank.
Green Shoes was hurriedly tossing money into the duffel bags that they had brought and tossed them to Red Shoes, who in turn tossed them over the counter to Yellow Shoes who was getting ready to run them over to the getaway car in the back lot of the bank. Black Shoes and White Shoes were keeping guard of the hostages and cops in the front, making sure no one tried anything.
“That’s the last of it!” Exclaimed Green Shoes as he clumsily tripped out of the vault.
“This is your last chance, release the hostages and come out with your hands in the air!”
Black Shoes grabbed one of the bank employees, the woman who had opened the vault for them and pointed his gun to her temple, approaching the doors to the building. “Here’s what’s gonna’ happen!” He yelled through the broken glass door. “We’re gonna’ get on out of here, and you’re gonna go about your day like nothing ever happened, or else the bank has a new opening as of today. Understand?”
One of the officers looked up, a flash of red gliding onto the roof of the bank.
“Yellow, now.” Black Shoes stayed at the door with the employee in his grasp as Yellow Shoes picked up the bags and hurried over to the back hallway as the others collected their things getting ready to follow. Suddenly, a scream was heard down the hallway, prompting all of the others to look over as they jumped.
Black Shoes looked over as well, calling out, “Yellow? Everything alright?” There was no response. After a moment of silence, he looked over to Green and Red. “Go check it out, and be quick. We’re behind schedule.”
Green and Red headed over to the hallway, where they were quickly met with two duffel bags to the face, sending them flying back into the wall. Before they could react, webs fired into Black and White’s guns, jamming the weapons and their fingers in the process. “What the hell?!” Screamed White Shoes. Black Shoes tossed the woman aside, fumbling to try and get the webbing off of his hand when suddenly he saw another duffel bag slam into White Shoes before a multitude of webs stuck him to the wall behind them. He made a bolt for the back hallway, where he saw Yellow Shoes webbed up to the ceiling with his mouth webbed shut. As he turned around to head the other way, a duffel bag was suddenly flying towards him and smacked him in the head, knocking him on his back as he suddenly saw Green and Red Shoes webbed up to the wall beside him. The duffel bag had been attached to a web, and was now swaying back and forth in the air. A burst of webbing hit him in the chest and arms, leaving him stuck to the floor.
As he looked up to the center ceiling, he saw Spider-Man - his red and blue suit glistening in the bright sky above. “I always wanted to ‘Home Alone’ a bad guy during the holidays! Much more fun than I anticipated.” He dropped down to the floor gracefully, helping the woman who had been thrown down a few moments before. He got the rest of the hostages out and to safety, but not stepping outside. He knew the police weren’t exactly his biggest fans anymore. “As much as I do appreciate the holiday spirit and confusing choice in shoes, you guys just didn’t make the nice list this year. Better luck next time!” He shot a web up to the glass ceiling, making his exit the same way he had come in.
…
Spider-Man swung away from the bank, checking his phone to see the time. 4:00 P.M. He put it back into the secret pockets he had made for his suit, and shot a few more webs into the air to accelerate his speed.
When he finally reached his apartment building, he dove onto the wall on the side of the building before hopping into his unit, grateful he didn’t accidentally lock the window like last time. He took off his mask, revealing Peter Parker’s face underneath. He tossed the mask onto the bed along with his phone, heading over to his scanner to make sure that no other urgent police activity was going on at the moment. He moved his Empire State University books over to the bed to help tame the mess that was on his desk at the moment, sitting down to see what was happening in the city. When he saw that it was all clear, he headed to the bathroom to change into his street clothes. He smiled as he saw the “I Voted” sticker on his Spider-Man suit, as it was the first time he had been able to do so. May had always raised him to understand how important his vote would be someday…
He put the suit back into the closet, throwing on his sweater to go with his pants, and then a winter coat which he had found for an insanely great price at the nearby thrift store. He was starving, so a trip to the bakery by the front of the building sounded like the plan for tonight.
He greeted one of his neighbors as he made his way down the stairs since the elevator was having some technical issues. When he walked outside, he couldn’t help but notice how cold it was when he wasn’t in Spider-Man mode. Must be all the adrenaline, he thought.
Joy’s Bread Co. was a popular spot for Peter, both for their amazing bagels and for the free Wi-Fi whenever his building’s would let him down. He found himself studying there more than in his own apartment some days. With Finals around the corner, he was spending a lot of time there these days.
“Hey, Annie,” Peter said to the brunette behind the counter as the jingle of the door rang as he walked in.
“Hey, Pete. The usual?”
“The usual.” He smiled as he approached the counter, watching as she grabbed the blueberry bagels and cream cheese.
“Did ‘ya get a chance to vote today? I know you’re always super busy and stuff.”
“Yeah, I had some spare time earlier this morning. You?”
“Yeah, boss went ahead and extended our breaks and let us all go to the nearby polling center.” She grabbed the bagels and cream cheese packets, putting them in a bag. “That Fisk guy really gives me the creeps, I really hope he doesn’t actually have a chance.”
Peter slid a few dollars onto the table, telling her to keep the change. “This city’s had enough crazy lately, I’m sure the last thing New Yorkers want is a crime boss running things.” He thanked her for the bagels before heading out, back towards his apartment.
Admittedly, frequenting Joy’s wasn’t just because of the bagels or wi-fi. Selfishly, it was a way for Peter to remember what things were like before. With MJ. With Ned. The memories they shared in the cafe together. It wasn’t the same, but it was as close as he could get while they lived happily in Boston, two of MIT’s brightest freshmen on campus. He sometimes wondered how they were doing, what kinds of activities they were up to on campus, what new friends they’d made. It had been a year since he had last seen them, walking into the cafe with every intention to remind them of who he was, but he knew better. He knew he had to keep them safe, that was what was most important.
He thought about them his entire trip back to the apartment and up the stairs, up until he remembered he had to unlock the door to get in. Once inside, he took off the coat and put it back in the closet as he made his way over to his modest table that sat in front of the TV he had managed to put back together after finding it sitting outside. As he began to eat the bagels, he checked the time and turned on the TV. Election results were beginning to come in. Time passed, and more votes were coming in. Soon, a trend started showing.
“As we look at the new batches that have just come in, it is becoming more and more clear just how popular Mr. Fisk’s campaign has been all around the city and in areas where we did not expect.”
Peter hadn’t known much about Wilson Fisk, but he had heard the rumors. The rumors that he was the worst of the worst. The crimes he had committed when he was running the underworld in New York. He was presenting himself under a new guise, promising to return New York to its glory days if he were voted in. His guarantee: to create a reformed, better version of the Accords. Not to regulate superheroes, but to put an end to them. More time passed and more results came in. Then, it became official.
“After the latest results that have come in, we can now project that Wilson Fisk has been elected as the new Mayor of the City of New York.”
And so it had begun.