//------------------------------// // Ch. 2: The Fall and Rise of the Mighty Vulture // Story: Ultimate Spiders and Magic: Episode I "New Beginnings" // by Maximus_Reborn //------------------------------// Chapter Two “The Fall and Rise of the Mighty Vulture” “Hey, new kid.” A yellow hand entered Peter's vision and pushed his laptop closed. He looked up before finishing the remnants of his second sandwich with a pair of chomps and found an orange-haired woman in a wheelchair holding out a lump of clothing. “Here's your uniform. I still say this is way too big for you, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.” Peter chuckled sheepishly before accepting the items. “Thanks. I know it sounds weird, but I have flabby skin. This helps hide that.” “Flabby, huh?” the woman blankly questioned, arching a brow before simply shrugging her shoulders dismissively. “Whatever saves your ego, I guess.” She slowly turned her wheelchair around, preparing to depart. “Don’t worry about dressing out today. Just take in the sights, but I expect you to participate tomorrow. Understood?” “Yes, Ma’am,” Peter replied, nodding. The woman shook her head and scoffed, wincing. “I know you’re just being polite, but leave off the ma’am. I’m barely any older than you are. I just graduated two years ago.” She lowered her shades enough to freely glance at Peter. “Just stick with Coach. Coach Spitfire.” Slow to respond, Peter’s brow furrowed. “Yeah… Coach Spitfire.” Suddenly, as if a realization just struck his mind, Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait a second. Spitfire? As in the Mighty Vulture, Spitfire?” Huffing, the woman allowed the corner of her lips to curl into a small smirk. “Yeah. That’s me. Although it feels like a lifetime ago since I went by that.” Her demeanor softened as a low sigh escaped from her mouth. Yet, Spitfire cleared her throat and lifted her head. “You’ve heard of me? That’s surprising. From what I read on your file, you aren’t necessarily from our neck of the woods.” Peter slid a hand into his pocket and retrieved a poster, unfolding it before pointing a finger at Spitfire’s image at the center. “Not really, but I’ve been reading and watching your documentaries since I moved here. Your work is incredible, especially on your flight suit! Are the wings made out of uranium alloy? It would explain the flexibility needed to bend. What do you use to compensate for the weight needed for flight?” Spitfire blinked before she chuckled, allowing her small smirk to morph into a large smile. “That’s what the thrusters are for. With the right proportions, flight is effortless, but the weight and thrust have to match, otherwise trajectory gets thrown out of whack.” Clearing her throat, Spitfire slid her shades back over her face before offering her hand to Peter. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to go tech geek and someone actually understands me. Sounds like you have a knack for engineering. What’s your name again?” “Peter Parker,” he stated, accepting the woman’s gesture. Once the pair shook hands, Spitfire turned around and rolled out of the vicinity. Peter simply walked back to the bleachers, putting the clothes he was given into the safety of his backpack. Pulling his laptop back over his thigh, the young man reopened a page. As he scrolled through a wall of text and images of Spitfire, a video at the corner began to play, and it documented the woman’s history. Spitfire was one of Canterlot High’s greatest students. A prodigy for her age, she was not only an ideal athlete, being the region’s top gymnast, but a marvelous genius, earning top honors. She had a natural talent for engineering, placing highly in each year’s scientific expeditions. One design in particular that caught the eye of the world was her flight suit, granting her full control of her airspace. Spitfire’s accolades were so great that she earned a scholarship through Oscorp Industries. Yet, Spitfire’s calling card was not science, but showmanship. She was an athlete first. With her flight suit and athletic prowess, Spitfire joined the Wonderbolts as their premier aerial stuntwoman. Oscorp funded her research as she performed, earning the admiration of peers.. Spitfire dominated the air and defied gravity with the greatest of ease, like a bird taking flight. She was thus dubbed ‘The Mighty Vulture.’ However, with every meteoric rise, there must come a fall. For Spitfire, it was a cruel metaphor. It was just a normal show, so one would believe. Spitfire soared through the sky, like Icarus did so close to the sun, but like a meteor, she soon fell, crashing to the earth. While her flight suit protected her from fatal injuries, it could only stop so much. Spitfire was paralyzed from the waist down. Her work as a stuntwoman was over. Spitfire stepped away from the Wonderbolts, and she lost all endorsements from Oscorp Industries soon after. As of today, Spitfire works as a gym coach for Canterlot High. Oscorp cited that they dropped Spitfire due to budget cuts and wished her well in her future endeavors. Peter’s brow furrowed as he continued to watch the video. “Man, that sucks. I thought she might have just been temporarily injured, but I didn’t think the wheelchair was permanent.” Shaking his head, the young man inhaled deeply before sighing. He opened the window, pausing the video of Spitfire mid flight tumble. Peter pursed his lips and murmured under his breath. “I wonder what happened? Was there a short in the suit, or…?” Before the young man could continue contemplating, a loud bell rang through the vicinity. Every student stopped in their tracks, heading back indoors. Peter eyed the large clock perched on the central building overhead, nodding in affirment as his own stomach growled in protest. Closing his laptop before sliding it into the confines of his backpack, Peter walked down the bleachers and headed for the cafeteria. Meanwhile, Spitfire watched all of the students from the edge of the field with a narrowed gaze. Gripping the wheels of her chair, she turned into the building before bumping the nearest wall. All of her momentum ceased, and the woman growled, slamming her fist into the arm of the chair. Clouds of rage circled through her mind, evident by her gritted teeth, but Spitfire inhaled deeply before releasing a harsh groan. She eyed her legs longingly, as if pleading for motion to come back to them. Shaking her head, Spitfire frowned before resuming her course. Eventually, she reached her office in a huff and locked the door behind her. The woman retrieved a bag from underneath her desk. Many thoughts ran through her mind, sending her spirit into a frenzy, but she soon gathered her nerve, gripping her handles soundly. “It’s now or never. I have to make my move tonight,” she whispered, placing the bag over her lap before leaving the office. As she rolled down the hallway, her fiery gaze narrowed into a glare. “I’ll make them pay for what they did to me.” The doors crept open before swinging wide. Many clamored about, talking about sweet nothings and the latest trends, while others ate what was presented as food. Many were broken off into groups, from the top hierarchy to the bottom of the barrel. As Peter entered the large room with a bemused stare, he was reminded of the glories of the fabled ‘lunch time.’ Sadly, as a new kid, even the bottom of the barrel (the school’s outcast of dorks, nerds, and dweebs) considered him too low for even their standard. “Let’s see. Everyone either hates me or doesn’t know me. They’d rather kick my butt, ignore me, or pretend I don’t even exist,” Peter groaned, shrugging, “It’s like I never left Midtown at all.” With a defeated sigh, Peter glanced around the room. Every table had seemed occupied with many groups, none of which were offering friendly glances upon spotting the lone man. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Peter spotted an available space in the corner. It was a recluse’s dream, free from most prying eyes and quiet compared to the noise generated from the rest of the room. Unfortunately, just as Peter readied himself to take the spot, a hand fell over his shoulder. A tingling sensation coursed through his cranium in response, forcing Peter to slam his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the warning. “Hey, Parker! Fancy seeing you here again!” Flash exclaimed, grinning widely. Shaking his head, Peter could only curse his willingness to ignore his Spider Sense and muscle memory. “Hey, Flash,” he droned, frowning, “I just want to have lunch in peace, okay?” Nodding, Flash chuckled. “Of course! I was just stopping to say hey.” That same moment, Flash pushed Peter roughly, causing the smaller man to slam into the seat of the table with enough force to cause the nearest tray to fall onto the floor. Paying no mind to the trio of girls exclaiming at him, Flash waved a hand dismissively before walking away. “Smell you later, Parker.” “Yeah. Much later,” Peter grumbled, lifting himself back to an upright stance. “You big overgrown ape!” a voice exclaimed from behind, causing him to sharply turn in its direction. A small girl slammed her fist onto the table, holding an icy violet glare in Flash’s direction. “That was Sweetie Belle’s lunch!” Just as Flash turned at the sound, a pink-skinned girl took to his side before laughing. “Don’t listen to Scoota-Loser, Flash. Birds of a feather flock together,” she smugly declared, brushing a hand through the white streak in her violet locks. Pausing, she shared a glance with her friend. “Right, Silver Spoon?” Adjusting her large glasses, the grey-skinned girl nodded. “Totally. Those Crusaders are so lame.” With a blank stare, Peter watched Flash and his entourage laugh about. “Geez. Is this every high school drama ever? I swear, if another musical number starts, I’m so done. I could have sworn I heard one a few minutes ago.” “Hey. Are you okay?” a voice quietly called out, freeing the young man from his inner monologue. He was greeted by a flow of crimson hair with a bright pink bow perched overhead and warm orange irises. After Peter nodded, she waved a hand apologetically. “Sorry about that. You seem to have got mixed up in our hoopla.” Peter chuckled sheepishly before shaking his head. “No. That hoop and la is mine. I’ve known Flash for years. It’s just business as usual.” Glancing to the side, his eyes narrowed on the fallen food by his feet. Frowning, Peter could only exhale as he picked up the tray. “Looks like I owe one of you lunch.” “Um… It’s okay,” a third voice softly declared, clearing her throat afterward. A pair of large green irises fell on the young man while he took in her pale white form and bright lavender hair. She took a moment before waving a hand dismissively. “That wasn’t your fault.” Thoughts raced through Peter’s mind as he glanced at the ground, but his eyes soon widened at a realization. “Sweetie Belle, right?” he murmured, reaching deep into his backpack. The girl simply nodded in response before Peter retrieved a sandwich from his bag. The treat was delicately packaged tightly in a plastic wrap. He extended it to the girl without hesitation. “I have a spare. You should have this.” Sweetie blinked at the gesture, slack-jawed. “Are you sure? I mean…” she trailed off, feeling the temperature in her face rise. Before she could respond, Peter shifted his gaze and abruptly turned, walking out of the cafeteria as quickly as he came. The girl stared at the sandwich with a warm gaze, smiling. “That was… nice of him. I wonder who that was?” Elsewhere, Peter simply marched without stopping. “That was awkward.” He eventually came to a halt before reaching a pair of double doors. “I embarrass myself in front of the entire cafeteria, and I’m a sandwich short. Thanks, Flash. Well, at least I still have my other sandwich…” Peter trailed off, reaching into his bag, but after fumbling for several seconds to no avail, his head lowered shamefully. “Oh, yeah. This is exactly how I pictured my day going.” “I agree. Your display was quite awkward,” another feminine voice bluntly stated from the side. As Peter turned, he was greeted by a pair of violet irises. A blue girl brushed a hand through her silver-blue lockes, boasting a haughty laugh. “I give your debut a seven. Simple yet disastrous.” Exasperated, Peter exhaled. “There a reason you aren’t hanging out with your adoring public then?” Blinking, the girl waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. I simply hang out here to avoid their stupid gazes. No one truly understands the Great and Powerful Trixie.” Pausing, she nodded confidently. “And yes. I am the most powerfulest in the school.” A long silence filled the air as Peter tilted his head to the side. “Powerfulest? That’s not even a word.” A harsh scoff escaped his mouth. “Uh-huh. Anyway, so what do you want?” Seemingly ignoring the young man’s remark, the girl snorted. “Oh, my. So you haven’t heard of me. I suppose I have a ways to go then.” Folding her arms, Trixie’s eyes narrowed while the corner of her mouth fell. “You’re new here. That distant and oblivious expression? It reeks of confusion.” Shrugging, she soon reached out and pulled a folded piece of paper from the young man’s pocket. Without a hint of hesitation, her eyes began to scroll over the paper. “That, and you have a fresh schedule. We even have History together.” “Oh, joy,” Peter grumbled, snatching the paper before turning away from the girl. His shoulders lowered, matched only by the frown on his face. “Powerfulest? Seriously? It’s a rib. It has to be.” Taken aback, Trixie placed her hands over her hips and scoffed. “How rude. He didn’t bother introducing himself.” Several hours had passed as Spider-Man sat at the top of the clock tower. While the town was small compared to New York, it was still respectable and granted him access via the web-swinging routes. He preferred to avoid traffic, and there was no greater alternative to that than a heightened altitude. Yet, images of his second day at Canterlot High continued to play through the confines of his mind. “This day just keeps getting better,” Peter whispered, holding a hand over his masked face. Suddenly, vibrations coursed through the depths of his backpack. He simply paused, retrieving a phone from inside before placing it over his ear. “Hi, Aunt May.” “Hi, Peter. How was school?” May sweetly questioned. Spider-Man grumbled, glancing to the side. “Bad question, May.” May could only hum. “I’m sorry to hear that. On your way home, could you bring some eggs? How does night-time breakfast sound?” “Sounds great. I’m starving,” Peter exhaled, nodding. However, before he could continue, a loud explosion echoed throughout the vicinity. Spider-Man’s masked eyes furrowed as he sat himself up, eyeing the building across from his position. Its metallic and brick surfaces were slick, displaying advancements far beyond those stationed around it. Even its billboard labeled ‘Oscorp’ held neon lights, shining brightly. An explosion erupted from its double doors as flames raced out and stretched across the street. “I’ll get back to you, Aunt May,” he whispered, tossing the phone into his backpack. Spider-Man watched as several civilians sped out of the building before leaping from his position. He soared through the air and shot out a strand of webbing, managing to swing his way through an opening in the shattered glass. Slowly but surely, the young man walked his way through the wreckage, following a set path of destruction. After treading carefully through the path of broken metal, stone, and glass, he seemed to have reached a central lobby before leaping onto the side of the nearest wall. An individual garbed in green stood over a large computer with their back facing Spider-Man. They paused before turning their head to the side, as if sensing him, and they revealed an orange visor shaped in the form of a beak while fur rested over their shoulders. Using their sharp, metallic claws to pull out a flash drive from the computer, they slid the item into a hidden compartment within their wings. The individual was heavily armored, yet their slender form was still evidently that of a woman. “Who are you?” their deep distorted voice questioned as their claws twitched. Shaking their head, they turned sharply before proceeding to walk away. “Doesn’t matter. My business isn’t with you.” Spider-Man raised a hand. “Love the suit. I’m a fan of Gatchaman myself.” Clearing his throat, he leapt back to the ground. “Thing is that you’re breaking and entering. You’re kinda making it my business.” “Hold on. Aren’t you that Spider-Guy who blew up that school?” she questioned bluntly, folding her arms. Wincing, Spider-Man cleared his throat. “That was months ago. Who are you to judge?” The armored individual scoffed. “I’m not. I’m just saying you suck at your job.” Sobering, she held out both claws while lowering into an attack stance. “All the more reason you need to just walk away. My beef isn’t with you. Get out of here before you get killed, rookie.” Throwing his hands high overhead, Spider-Man growled. “You know what? This whole day has sucked. Last thing I need is some Vulture-cosplayer telling me off!” Spider-Man leapt forward, throwing a wild kick, but the woman pulled her arms inwardly before swinging her wings out, managing to both block and deflect his attack. She quickly flew into the air with her claw extended, managing to grab Spider-Man by the entirety of his head. Just as the young man struggled to break free, his assailant sped through the air, with him in tow, before bursting him through the nearest wall. Shards of stone scattered from the impact as Spider-Man fell to the ground, while debris buried his form. The woman stood over his frame with a claw raised. “Damn. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. The exoskeleton’s strength output is too strong. I’ll have to make some adjustments when I get back to base.” The debris underneath her feet began to shift as pained groans were heard from within. Elated, a relieved sigh escaped from the woman. “Oh, thank God. He’s still alive.” She paused, glancing to the side as sirens steadily approached from afar. Exhaling, she ran towards the hole in the wall. “For your sake, stay out of my way next time!” Just as Spider-Man rose from the wreckage, lifting a fallen pillar from over his frame, the woman took flight and escaped his crosshairs. He lowered into a defensive stance, as if ready to pursue, but he paused, shaking his head at the sight of red, white, and blue lights flashing wildly outside. A sharp bolt of pain surged through his side, causing the young man to wince involuntarily. With a defeated sigh, Spider-Man took an alternative route and climbed through the nearest vent. Local law enforcement stormed the scene, surveying the scene. Meanwhile, Spider-Man reached a building afar, climbing onto its roof top before collapsing in a heap. Spider-Man stared at the blue skies with a blank stare, left only with the bruises he sustained. Exasperated, he could only exhale. “Fresh start, they said. It’ll be good for you, they said. This town sucks.” His stomach growled in protest, as if agreeing with his statement. Spider-Man huffed. “I’m so hungry!” To be continued...