MCU: Spider-Man: Rise of Saint

Franklin had been watching the guy for three days. Took him less than a month to track down Jerome's killer - something these stupid ass cops couldn't do with all their resources and badges.

"Useless motherfuckers," he muttered, watching the apartment building across the street. "Could've found this piece of shit weeks ago if they actually gave a damn."

Same routine - the killer would leave his apartment around midnight, hit up the corner stores that stayed open late, looking for easy targets.

Tonight was different. Tonight Franklin knew for sure this was Jerome's killer.

He'd found the connection at Dave's Corner Store. The owner mentioned other robberies in the area - same guy, same gun, same dark hoodie. Franklin tracked the pattern, spent nights following leads until he found this piece of shit's apartment.

Now Franklin watched from the rooftop across the street as the killer walked out his front door. Same height, same build, same way of moving. But what sealed it was the gun - tucked in his waistband, just like the night he shot Jerome.

"Got your ass now," Franklin muttered.

He followed from above, moving silently between buildings. The killer headed toward his usual hunting grounds, checking his phone as he walked.

Franklin thought about every night he'd spent searching. Every dead end. Every moment replaying Jerome's death in his head. His hands tightened into fists.

The killer turned down an empty street. Franklin dropped down behind him.

"Remember me, motherfucker?"

The guy spun around. Recognition flashed in his eyes before he could hide it.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Dave's Corner Store. Month ago." Franklin stepped closer. "You shot a man over what? Forty bucks?"

The killer reached for his gun. That familiar tingle shot through Franklin's body. He shot a web, yanking the weapon away before the guy could grab it.

"The fuck is that?" The killer backed up, looking for an escape route.

"New trick I learned." Franklin webbed the guy's feet to the ground. "Lot's changed since you killed my uncle."

"Look man, I didn't mean-"

Franklin's fist cut him off. The guy's head snapped back, blood spraying from his nose.

"Didn't mean what? Didn't mean to pull the trigger? Didn't mean to leave him bleeding on the sidewalk?"

Another punch. The killer tried to block but Franklin was too fast, too strong. His fist connected with ribs, feeling something crack.

"Please," the killer gasped. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Franklin grabbed him by the throat. "You're fucking sorry?"

He slammed the killer against the wall. The brick cracked from the impact.

"You took everything from me." Franklin's voice came out cold, dangerous. "Shot him like he was nothing."

"I needed the money," the killer choked out. "Was desperate."

"Desperate?" Franklin squeezed harder. "I'll show you desperate."

He could end it right here. One squeeze. That's all it would take.

The killer's eyes bulged. His face turned red, then purple. His hands clawed weakly at Franklin's grip.

Just like Jerome, gasping for air on the sidewalk while his life bled out.

Franklin's hand trembled. Jerome's voice echoed in his head:

"Having power means having responsibility."

Franklin released his grip. The killer collapsed, coughing and gasping.

"You don't deserve quick," Franklin said. "You deserve to rot."

He webbed the killer to the wall, making sure he was secure. Then he picked up the gun, emptied the bullets, and crushed it in his hand.

Approaching sirens grew louder. Franklin had called 911 before confronting the killer, giving them this location.

"Police are coming," Franklin said. "They'll find the gun. Match it to Jerome's murder. Match it to all your other robberies too."

"You can't do this," the killer wheezed.

"Already did." Franklin stepped back into the shadows. "Remember this feeling. Remember being helpless while someone stronger decides if you live or die. Remember it every fucking day you're in prison."

Red and blue lights flooded the street. Franklin shot a web line and pulled himself up to the roof, watching as police cars surrounded the scene below.

They found the killer still webbed to the wall, the crushed gun at his feet. Found his phone with messages about other robberies. Found everything they needed to put him away.

Franklin stayed until they cut the killer down and put him in a police car. Until they bagged the gun as evidence. Until they drove away with the man who murdered Jerome.

It was done. Over.

Franklin looked at his hands. They'd stopped shaking.

He could have killed him. Wanted to kill him. Felt that darkness rise up and almost let it take over.

But he hadn't. Jerome wouldn't have wanted that.

Franklin shot a web line and swung away from the scene. He'd found Jerome's killer. Got justice his own way, since nobody else would.

They had their man now. His Aunt Gloria can finally sleep at night, that's what mattered.

The morning news played on Franklin's phone as he walked to school. His uncle's killer's face filled the screen - police mugshot, black eye and busted nose visible. The reporter talked about how they found him webbed to a wall, evidence linking him to Jerome's murder and six other robberies.

Franklin clicked his phone off, a small smile crossing his face. For the first time since Jerome died, he'd slept through the night like a baby.

"Yo, you see the news?"

Keith ran up behind him, waving his own phone. "They got the guy who killed your uncle."

"Yeah, saw that."

"Crazy how they found him. All wrapped up like a Christmas present." Keith fell into step beside him. "You good?"

Franklin nodded. "Better than I've been in a while."

The school hallways buzzed with the news. Franklin caught bits of conversations as he walked to his locker.

"Bro, they said the gun was straight up crushed like a soda can."

"Yo, what's with all that spider web stuff though? That's wild."

"Remember when that same shit happened at Martinez's store last week?"

Franklin kept his head down, fighting back another smile. He opened his locker, grabbing books for first period.

"There's my favorite dropout."

Mary Jane leaned against the locker next to his, sketchbook tucked under her arm.

"Not a dropout. Just quit basketball."

"Same thing according to the team." She pulled out her phone. "But I'm guessing you've seen this?"

The news article showed police cutting his uncle's killer down from the wall.

"Yeah, my Aunt Gloria woke me up to show me." Franklin closed his locker. "She actually smiled this morning."

"First time since Jerome?"

"First time since Jerome."

They walked to chemistry together. Mr. Thompson was setting up the day's lab when they walked in.

"Franklin," he called out. "Good to see you today. Heard the news about your uncle's case."

"Thanks." Franklin took his seat, noticing his web fluid supplies still hidden in the back cabinet where he'd left them.

The day felt different. Lighter somehow. People still stared, still whispered, but not with the same pity as before. Now they talked about justice, about closure.

At lunch, Franklin sat with Keith and the old basketball crew. No one mentioned him quitting the team.

"Cops said the guy confessed to everything," Mike said between bites. "Soon as they got him to the station."

"Good." Franklin picked at his food. "Deserves whatever he gets."

"You okay though?" Steve asked. "For real?"

Franklin thought about the killer's face when he recognized him in the alley. About the satisfying crunch when his fist connected.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm good."

After lunch, Franklin had free period. He went to the library, finding a quiet corner to catch up on homework he'd been neglecting.

The news played quietly on someone's laptop nearby. They were interviewing the store owner from another robbery his uncle's killer had done.

"The web slinger saved my store," the owner said. "Caught the robber just like he caught the killer last night."

Franklin froze. People had started noticing.

"Fitting name, isn't it?"

Franklin looked up. MJ stood there, holding a stack of books.

"What?"

"The web slinger. For whoever's been helping people." She sat across from him. "The webs, the climbing buildings - makes sense."

"I guess."

"Plus it sounds better than 'mysterious vigilante' or 'web-slinging hero' like they were using before."

Franklin went back to his homework, trying to look uninterested. "If you say so."

"You seem different today," MJ said after a while.

"Different how?"

"I don't know. More... here. Less lost in your head." She opened her sketchbook. "Ever since Jerome died, it's like you've been somewhere else. Today you're actually present."

Franklin thought about the weight that had lifted after last night. About finally being able to look Gloria in the eyes this morning.

"Just needed closure, I guess."

"And now you have it." MJ started sketching. "So what's next?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you quit basketball. Caught up on all your missed work. Got closure with Jerome." She looked up from her drawing. "What's Franklin Saint going to do now?"

Franklin glanced at his phone. Another article about Spider-Man stopping a car theft.

"Figure I'll find something to keep me busy."

The bell rang. Franklin packed up his books, heading for his next class. As he walked, he heard more people talking about the mysterious web slinger. About justice. About feeling safer knowing someone was watching out for them.

He had a purpose now beyond just finding Jerome's killer.

The city needed someone to protect the people the police couldn't or wouldn't help.

Franklin smiled. He could do that.

He could definitely do that.

The next day Franklin sat in the back of his history class, textbook propped up to hide his notebook. While Mr. Davis talked about the Civil War, Franklin's pencil moved across the page, sketching out ideas for a suit.

His first few designs looked stupid - too many unnecessary details, trying too hard to look cool. He flipped to a fresh page and started over.

Second attempt wasn't much better. Looked like something a kid would wear for Halloween. Another page, another try.

The bell rang. Franklin closed his notebook, heading to his last class of the day.

In chemistry, he kept sketching while Mr. Thompson explained molecular structures. Each design got closer, but something still wasn't clicking.

"That's pretty good."

Franklin jumped. MJ had leaned over, looking at his latest sketch.

"Just doodling," he said, trying to cover the page.

"No, seriously." She pointed to the mask design. "I like how the eyes look."

Franklin studied the sketch. She was right - the angular eye pieces did look cool.

"You taking art classes now?" MJ asked.

"Nah, just bored."

The final bell rang. Franklin packed up his stuff, but instead of heading home, he went to the library. Found a quiet corner where no one would bother him.

He spread out his sketches, looking at each design. The first ones were trying too hard. The later ones too basic. He started a new sketch, keeping it simple but not boring.

Red and black would work - stand out enough to be seen, but not like a walking traffic light. He worked on the mask design, making the eyes angular like MJ suggested.

"You're still here?"

He looked up. MJ stood by his table, backpack over her shoulder.

"Library's closing soon," she said.

Franklin checked his phone. He'd been drawing for two hours.

"Lost track of time." He gathered his sketches, but one slipped off the table.

MJ picked it up before he could grab it. She studied the design - his latest version with the angular eyes and simple lines.

"This is really good," she said. "What's it for?"

"Just... a project I'm working on."

"Must be some project." She handed the sketch back. "The design works. Not too complicated."

After she left, Franklin pulled out a fresh page. Started a new sketch, putting together everything that worked from his earlier attempts.

This time, it felt right. Simple but not basic. The kind of suit someone might actually be able to make, not some crazy sci-fi armor.

Franklin held up the final design. This was it.

Now he just had to figure out where to buy spandex. At least he found a cheap, flexible material to work with - if Tony Stark saw him making a suit out of spandex, he'd probably laugh his ass off.

He took a photo of the sketch with his phone, then carefully folded the page and put it in his pocket. The rest of the sketches he threw away - no need for anyone finding those embarrassing early versions.

Walking home, Franklin already knew this wouldn't be easy. But he had the design. Had a clear picture of what he wanted.

Now he just had to make it real.