Chapter 11: Facing the Bank Robbers
Meanwhile, I couldn’t see the other two robbers. They were probably inside the vault room, taking the money, because I could hear the sound of metal being shifted and short exchanges filled with greed and threats. The metallic noise echoed softly yet sharply, stabbing at my ears like a warning that my time was running out.
If things stayed like this, it would be difficult for me. My thoughts spun, searching for an opening, but the situation felt like a puzzle with only a single, narrow solution. One wrong move, and everything could collapse in an instant.
I needed to do something—hm? Ah! One of the robbers near the door started heading upstairs. The sound of his footsteps was clear as his boots struck each step one by one. The rhythm was steady and deliberate, like a signal marking his approach.
Good!
It seemed that because I had taken down the robber who went up to the second floor earlier, another one had come to check the situation. That change made me smile slightly. Looks like luck is on my side! The smile was thin and fleeting, gone in an instant, but it was enough to steady my focus again.
My hands and feet clung tightly to the ceiling as I restrained myself from moving too quickly. Every muscle in my body worked in silence, suppressing the reflex to strike immediately.
Then I pressed myself flat against the corridor ceiling once more, pulling my body in close until my shadow blended with the dark lines above. The neon lights cut across my form, turning me into a faint silhouette—just enough to hide me from a casual glance.
When the robber looked around in confusion, he narrowed his eyes. His breathing was rough, and it was clear he was trying to understand why his partner hadn’t shown up. His head moved slowly, his gaze sweeping across the corridor, alert but still unaware of the danger directly above him.
The robber then walked toward the small open space at the end of the hallway, his steps leading him straight toward where I had been hiding moments ago. Each step brought him closer, shrinking the distance between us rapidly.
As he moved forward, I dropped down and struck his head, my motion fast, like a raindrop falling from a roof. The attack descended almost vertically, without warning, fully exploiting gravity and momentum.
This time, the robber didn’t pass out immediately. He let out a low growl and raised his hands, trying to fight back. His combat instincts were still functioning, even though his mind hadn’t fully caught up yet.
I followed up at once, punching him in the face. The blow snapped his head to the side, the sound of bone and flesh colliding brief but heavy.
That was enough. The robber went unconscious, his body swaying before collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. He hit the floor without resistance, completely helpless.
Two down. Three left, I thought, drawing in a quiet breath. My heartbeat remained steady, my mind clear, my focus locking onto the next step.
I immediately fired webbing at the robber’s mouth, both hands, and both legs, making sure he wouldn’t be able to make a sound or move at all.
My movements were fast and precise, almost instinctive, as if my body had decided before my mind had time to hesitate. The soft but sharp hiss of the web shooter echoed through the narrow corridor, enough to make adrenaline surge through my chest once more.
The webbing hardened the moment it stuck, sealing the robber’s mouth shut like organic tape that couldn’t be torn away. His hands and legs were trapped in stiff positions, leaving him able to do nothing more than writhe weakly without result.
The web pressed against his jaw, forcing his teeth closed, and every attempt to struggle only made the white strands tighten their grip, as if they understood his intent to resist.
The fibers pulsed faintly against my fingertips, as if the web were alive and tightening around its prey. I was slightly surprised to see this man regain consciousness so quickly—it seemed my punch had been too gentle. I could see the robber’s eyes widen in terror as his freedom vanished in a single motion.
That gaze was empty yet frantic, his pupils trembling. His breathing hitched behind the web sealing his mouth, and for a fleeting fraction of a second, a thin sense of guilt brushed against my conscience.
Then I placed this robber beside the previous one, propping the two of them together in the same corner. I adjusted their positions quickly but carefully, making sure the webbing didn’t loosen, before pushing their bodies deeper into the darkest part of the corridor.
Both figures slumped like old, discarded dolls, swallowed by the shadows of the hallway, making them look like nothing more than part of the wall itself.
In the dim light, their silhouettes nearly blended into the dull concrete, so that anyone passing by at a glance might never notice the presence of two helpless bodies.
Sweat still streamed down their faces, catching the flicker of the weak, wavering lights, and I could hear their heavy breathing scattered like suppressed whimpers of fear. The sound was thin and choked, mixed with a faint metallic scent and old dust, creating an atmosphere that pressed down hard on my chest.
Now I still had three more to deal with. Maybe the robber hadn’t passed out immediately because I’d held back too much—but if I hadn’t held back, wouldn’t their skulls have shattered? I could even have killed them by accident.
The thought stabbed into my head like sudden pressure, making me swallow hard. There was a brief pause where I genuinely reconsidered every movement, every strike I’d just made.
Superhuman strength was no joke, and the line between restraint and destruction was terrifyingly thin. A subtle tremor ran from my shoulder down my arm—a warning from my own body that this power couldn’t be treated like a toy. My muscles felt too light, too obedient, as if they were ready to explode the moment I let my guard slip.
Even if they were criminals, and even if I was now Spider-Man—in other words, a hero—killing criminals wasn’t impossible. It’s just that… I wasn’t ready to kill someone. The words felt heavy, echoing in my mind, pressing down on my awareness harder than fear itself.
I pressed myself back against the wall and slowly crawled toward the stairs, my body moving along the surface like a cautious lizard. I controlled every motion to be silent, holding my breath as much as possible, as if the wall itself could hear my heartbeat.
The cold, slightly dusty surface of the wall felt rough against my palms, while my heartbeat pounded in my ears like a tiny war drum.
I could feel the pulse throbbing in my neck, reminding me that I was still human, even as this power kept trying to convince me otherwise.
That was when the other two robbers came into view. Each of them carried a sack in their hands, stuffed with money, and only one of them held a weapon.
The sacks looked heavy, their fabric stretched taut, while the metal of the weapon in one man’s grip reflected the light with a cold gleam that made the back of my neck tense.
Damn it, I was wound up tight. I took a deep breath in, then let it out. Alright, Dante. Either do it, or don’t do it at all. I clenched my teeth as I forced my body to relax, trying to neutralize the tightness in my chest that almost stopped my breathing.
Deep down, I knew there was no room for hesitation—one wrong step, and everything could end far worse than I imagined.