//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Great Responsibility // Story: Spider-Man - Book 1: Power & Responsibility // by Triple B Studios //------------------------------// Peter Parker patiently stood across the promoter's desk. He was awaiting the retrieval of his three-thousand dollars. Wrestlers of various shapes and sizes also stood behind him, patiently awaiting their turn. The promoter meticulously counted the money of each fighter after every bout. A wide grin graced Peter’s lips under his mask. Everything happened just as Peter had planned. Before he had participated in the wrestling match with Crusher-Hogan, he was at home in his room trying to figure out some way to test out the extent of his powers. He could jump at great distances, crawl on walls like a spider, and has super strength—all the traits that were passed down to him from a radioactive spider. Though he had the strength to lift a car with such ease, he still wanted to see how far he could push himself. In order to accomplish this, he needed to test more of his super strength than just lifting vehicles. Which led him to a newspaper article titled, "Defeat Crusher Hogan, and win three-thousand dollars!" It showed a picture of the man who would go on to become a star wrestler in America. It took one look at the man for Peter to spring an idea in his head. He will test out his super strength by fighting and defeating Crusher-Hogan. But in order to set his plan in motion, he needed to get one person out of his hair: Uncle Ben. After his first fight with Flash Thompson back in school, it didn't take long for the principal to call both Uncle Ben and Aunt May in to discuss the incident. They didn't like the idea of their nephew doing something so out of character for him. Though Peter had told his guardians that Flash was the one who started the fight, he couldn't deny that he ended it before it could escalate further. Furthermore, Peter was spending more time testing his powers in his room then doing his chores. The more his behavior changed, the more concerned they became. On the day before the match was starting, Peter lied to Uncle Ben and Aunt May by telling them that he was going to the library and study. He would be lying if he said it didn't make him sick whenever he lied to Uncle Ben and Aunt May; but what he had been up to was too important not to do. But phase one, two, and three are now complete; now all he needs to do is collect his money and head back home before Uncle Ben and Aunt May realize where he went. The promoter diligently counted every last dollar in his hand. Once the counting ceased, he placed them into a bag and handed his assistant a clipboard containing the names and numbers of the champions, before shifting his focus to Peter. "I've gotta say kid, you made one hell of a show," he admitted, lips grace with a big smile. "You should definitely come back again. People would pay bucks to see another fight like that!" Peter waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, that won't be necessary. This was a one time thing," he responded. "If you could just give me the cash I'll be on my way." "Are you sure, kid?" The promoter crossed his arms. "You could be famous, you know? Imagine what you could do for your own career! Hell, you'll be king of the world!" Peter chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry man, not interested. Can I have my reward now?" He extended his hand. The promoter sighed and reluctantly handed Peter the bag filled with money. Peter smiled under his mask. "Welp, you have a good night sir." Peter turned around and started out of the room. Peter walked down the winding hallway while staring at the bag of money in hand. If he had to be honest with himself, he didn't know what to do with his reward. There had been no other time in his life where he had ever received so much money, so now that he finally had it, he wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. The thought of buying a car crossed his mind, but quickly faded away due to him not knowing how to drive. Maybe when the time is ripe, he could take Gwen out on a date and take her to one of those fancy restaurants. That sounded nice. Peter blinked. His thoughts trailed off when he felt someone shoulder their way past him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a muscular blonde man fully clothed in black. His face was hidden under the hood of his black coat, yet Peter noticed that his chocolate eyes were glaring towards the door he had just exited. Peter frowned and looked forward, continuing on his way towards the elevator. It was then that Peter halted in his tracks when a gunshot suddenly exploded from the direction the man came from. Screams and cries rang throughout the hallways as everyone scrambled to escape the building. Some people fell to the ground in fear. A few of those lucky enough not to lose their footing ran past Peter and continued running to another section of the hall. Leaving Peter alone to stare in shock. "Put the money in the bag!" Peter heard the man shouting from behind the door. "Hurry up!" The door swung open with a loud creak. The man with a bag of money in one hand and a pistol in the other, and his face was covered by a ski mask which made Peter kinda suspicious. He sprinted forward whilst pumping his arms furiously to maintain his momentum. The promoter stood by the doorway, holding his bruised shoulder. Blood poured through the fabric and soaked it red. "Hey!" The promoter shouted while pointing at the thief. "He's got my money!" A police officer rounded a corner after hearing the commotion and began charging after the runaway thief. The thief pumped his arms harder in an attempt to gain distance from the officer. Peter watched as the thief drew closer and nearer to him. Peter simply moved to the side close to the wall. Not to be subjected to the tense situation that was unfolding before him. This action surprised the runaway thief; none more so then the cop and the promoter. The thief quickly approached the elevator by tapping his hand on the button. Just as the doors opened, the thief entered and repeatedly tapped the lower button for it to close. Before the doors closed he glanced at Peter and nodded at him in appreciation. “Thanks,” he said. The officer reached the elevator doors and slammed his fist onto it. He cursed under his breath as repeated the action a second time. He lowered his head as he was internally disappointed in himself for not being fast enough to catch the thief. “Jeez! He was really in a hurry wasn’t he,” Peter stated, a sheepish grin gracing his lips. The officer glared at Peter over his shoulder. Peter arched a brow at him. “What?” Peter questioned in bewilderment. “What was that?” The officer asked, turning his body to face him. Peter was still confused. “What was what?” Peter repeated in confusion. “Why didn’t you stop him?” The officer demanded, jabbing his finger into Peter’s chest. Peter snorted in amusement. “Not my job,” he stated nonchalantly. The promoter approached the pair and turned his frowning gaze towards Peter. “Kid, I saw the way you fought in the ring, you could’ve taken that guy apart,” the promoter remarked. “Now he’s gonna get away with my money!” Peter shifted his gaze towards the promoter. “I’m sorry, but I’ve missed the part where that’s my problem,” Peter deadpanned, shocking both the promoter and the officer. “Besides, I’m sure the cops will catch him before he hurts anyone.” Peter shoulder-passes the officer and steps towards the elevator. The officer and the promoter watched as Peter tapped the button next to the elevator. The elevator doors opened, and he entered before clicking a button. The pair glared at Peter in disappointment before the doors closed. Peter’s grin grew wider once the doors shut. Manhattan was still awake as lights from all buildings lit of the night. The moon basked Manhattan’s streets and sidewalks. People were milling about the said sidewalks, trucks rumbled along the roads on their way to various destinations, and random cars drove down the streets in different directions. Peter walked down the sidewalk with his head lowered. As he walked, he began reminiscing over the memory of his conversation with Uncle Ben. Thinking about it now placed a bad taste in his mouth, especially how he rudely shouted at the man. That twinge of regret he felt not too long ago was now replaced by another feeling. An indescribable one: guilt. Peter glared at the concrete floor. He hated himself for how he acted so harshly to the man and even more because of how much he had meant to Peter growing up. Ever since his parents died, Uncle Ben had been nothing but kind and gentle when he took him in. He was the closest thing to a second father Peter could ask for and he appreciated every single one of those years they spent together. And yet despite that, Peter repaid his kindness with harshness. Peter frowned at the ground. His uncle was trying to tell him something important and he threw it back at his face. Why couldn’t he just listen to him? Why did he have to push him away like that? Peter clenched his fist. He didn’t deserve that; he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that ever since he gained his powers from the spider all he can think is that the one person who would know what to do was his dad. His dad would have known what to make of all this—his powers—what they mean. But he’s wrong. And he’s sick of being wrong. Uncle Ben and Aunt May are his family and it’s way past time for him to grow up. It's time he tells them what’s going on with him, and whatever happens, happens. If he’s a freak—he’s a freak. They love me no matter what, Peter thought. Peter blinked. Were those sirens he heard just now? Peter glanced up and his eyes grew large. His house was surrounded by both police cars and ambulances. Officers stood next to their car talking on the radio, paramedics ran towards the scene and several citizens were standing near the perimeter of the property looking shocked. “Oh, no…” Peter whispered in horror under his breath. Peter sprinted towards his house as his countenance grew pale. He dodged around a few cops and paramedics while keeping his line of sight focused ahead at the doorway, not allowing a moment for anyone to stop him. He finally entered his home and caught his breath when his gaze landed on the floor. Peter’s gaze landed on Aunt May and female officer kneeling beside her. Aunt May had her face in her hands and wailed, while the woman comforted her by patting her shoulder with her head lowered in sympathy. Peter shifted his gaze towards something next to Aunt May’s knees. Peter’s eyes widened in pure horror. There was blood on the floor, however, that wasn’t the only thing that made him pause. He was solely staring at Uncle Ben’s glasses. Aunt May sat on the living room couch staring back at the officers sitting across from her. Tonight has been both a traumatic and an unexpected experience; one that she hoped would never repeat itself in the future. Even now as she sits on the couch she was praying that this was all just a nightmare, that any minute she'd be waking up in bed in her beloved Ben’s arms. But this wasn’t a dream—this was real. That realization alone caused more tears to well up in her eyes. “You said you heard a noise?” The female officer asked, looking at Aunt May with concern written in her eyes. Aunt May nodded. “Yes, we—we heard a noise in the back,” Aunt May choked out as she tried not to cry again. “And to be honest we both thought it was Peter; because Peter uses the back entrance most of the time. But Ben called out to him—and he didn’t answer.” Aunt May paused for a moment before speaking once again. “And right then—I don’t know why——but right then I knew something was wrong,” she continued. “I knew that someone was in our house. I could—I could just tell from the kind of silence.” “Both of you were in the room?” The female officer pressed, as though needing to verify that. Again Aunt May nodded. “Yes,” Aunt May replied. “And I think Ben knew something was wrong too, because he got up first. He got up and called out to Peter again. There was nothing for a second——then we heard a pan drop. Ben looked at me and said he thought a squirrel got in the house. And I said I haven’t heard that happening in Queens. Then I looked in the doorway of the kitchen——and there he was.” Tears started rolling down Aunt May’s cheeks once again as the memory of the horror unfolded through her mind. “He—He was just standing there in the doorway—he was shaking——and he asked us where we kept our money. Ben told him we didn’t had any; and we didn’t. Nothing. And the guy just got real agitated and screamed: “Give me all your money!” And Ben—he—he just—I guess it was just the tension of the situation—the ridiculousness—I don’t know—the way things had been going on lately. But—Ben he—he kind of chuckled and said: “You probably have more money than we do.” And the——the chuckle kind of——I don’t know——it really made him mad.” Aunt May clasped a hand over her mouth. Willing herself to remain composed, and wiped away her tears. “What happened next, ma’am?” A male officer, standing next to the sitting female officer, questioned gently. “And that was it,” Aunt May replied. “He just ran out the way he came and——Oh, no.” Aunt May glanced at her nephew and her heart sank. Peter’s head was lowered, and a shadow casted over his face. Tears dripped steadily from his chin as he sat frozen and motionless beside her. Peter was mute through everything Aunt May recounted. His eyes were as blank and unseeing as the ones of the dead. Aunt May reached out and placed a tentative hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. But Peter did not respond to it. “Units respond to a 340 at Chelsea and 4th.” Peter lifted his head and stared at a officer standing outside of the living room. He began to listen to the conversation going on between the cop and the radio. “Copy dispatch,” the officer acknowledged into the radio. “Do you guys have any spare cars over there? We have a 340.” The cop in the radio requested. “We’re almost done here. What’s up?” “We got a guy—tried to rob a poppey’s chicken mock two blocks from where you are. Three squad cops were parked out front and the guy still thought he could take the place. They chased him into an abandoned warehouse and are requesting backup.” The officer shook his head. “Man, the idiot brigade is out in full force tonight,” the officer commented under his breath. “Yeah, we’ll send car 444 over there now. Over…” “Over.” The man in the radio responded. Another officer approached his partner. “A foot chase? Maybe the same guy who perpetrated this whammy?” The other officer asked incredulously. His partner snorted. “I wish,” the first officer answered. “Go on over and be a cop.” Peter’s eyes deeply narrowed when the conversation was over. His blood boiled; and his fists curled up into tight balls. A vein pulsed in his forehead as he stood up. “Peter?” Aunt May’s voice wavered slightly as she turned toward her nephew just in time to see him sprint out of the living room. “Peter!” The huntress turned to where the boy had ran off to and frowned. “Oh, it’s okay, ma’am. Kids take these things the hardest…” The huntress assured. “The kid’s just got to find a way to let it out.” Peter rounded around a corner and sprinted full pelt down an alleyway. While running he pulled his shirt over his head and flung it aside, revealing his crimson sweater with the red spider insignia. Once he had discarded the garment, Peter reached behind himself and retrieved his mask. He slipped it over his head and tightened it quickly. Peter slams one foot into the ground creating a small crater. Crackles of red and blue lighting circulated around his leg for a brief moment, before quickly followed by leaping high in the air with incredible speed. He landed on the roof but proceeded to run forward, then leapt to another, and another. With each leap his speed increased even further. The individuals under the streetlights below, along with the apartments became a blur. His sadness withered away akin to a leaf being blown by the wind. At this moment, Peter only felt one emotion taking over. Rage. Dennis Carradine stood behind the window as the red and blue lights flashed outside. A trio of cop cars parked outside of the warehouse, as well as three police officers carrying handguns. One of them held up a flashlight and shone it through the windows. “We’re not gonna wait here all night, pal! Be smart and cooperate!” The officer shouted. “Officers at 412, backup is on the way.” the man on the radio reported. “That’s good news, dispatch. I would like to finish my dinner.” Another Officer beside his partner replied. “Call in the update, over.” “Sure, sure. Over.” Dennis peered around the broken window frame. He knew he couldn’t take them on, he’s one against three, plus they were armed. But he had to get out of this warehouse somehow. “Pigs are everywhere…” Dennis muttered under his breath, turning away from the window. “The only way out is the front door! If we have to charge in there, it ain’t gonna be pretty!” One of the officers shouted through the broken window. Take you with me if I have to, Dennis thought, pieces of garbage. Dennis surveyed his surroundings. He stood at the top floor of the warehouse, surrounded by piles of wheels, empty barrels, and big engines that sat dormant for years. There were two doors along the right wall. Both of them led into what was once an office area of sorts, but now had long since collapsed in on itself. The other door led to the roof, which was honestly a dead end for him. But Dennis still wouldn’t let those cops catch him. God, no. He wouldn’t let them get the chance. “Gonna have to get out of here one way or another.” Dennis said to himself as he scanned the room again, trying to think of a plan to escape. Dennis blinked. He noticed a perceptible shift in the atmosphere. The room was silent. Dennis twisted his torso and looked around. The only sound was from the traffic passing by, the creak of the old warehouse, and some distant sirens. His heart beat rapidly when he caught sight of a dark shape from the corner of his eye. But by the time he turned to investigate, the shape vanished. “Wh-Who’s there?” Dennis asked, trying to keep his voice steady. There was no response. “Who’s there!” Nothing. Dennis darted his eyes from the corner to the ceiling. He tried looking for any sign of a phantom, be it a rodent or man. But he found nothing, and yet he still felt something lurking. “This isn’t funny, whoever—” Dennis stopped in mid sentence as he heard a thud behind him. He rolled his body around and retreated one step backwards. He blinked and stared in bewilderment. In the darkness, Dennis met the eyes of a tall figure. The person stood motionless before him, glaring silently back at him. They donned a crimson sweater with patterns of webs adorning the garment’s sections. They wore black jeans, dark brown boots, and a mask. Additionally, a red spider insignia embellished the center of the chest, while a larger spider emblem graced the back. Dennis blinked in surprise. He recognized this guy, the masked champion he ran past not too long ago. Although he doesn’t understand why he’s glaring— “What’re you—” Pain. Pain, like nothing he had ever felt before. Pain, as if a speeding car drove into his chest, his body coiling in around it. He let out a yell as the force of it flung him backwards. The person stayed rooted where they stood. Their fist outstretched, their expression coldly emotionless. Said fist was pulled back to their side before taking a step forward. Dennis dropped the gun whilst screaming as he fell backwards. He saw the assailant in the corner of his eye in an instant, just as their fist smashed into his jaw. His jaw burned from where their fist struck, the sensation spreading across his face. It felt as if someone hit him with a hammer. The assailant punched Denniss’ face. Their fist caved into his nose, and he bounced across the room for a few meters before laying still. He roared In mingled pain and rage as he pushed himself up. Blood ran down his face, his nose bubbling with labored breath. He coughed, and grabbed at his nose, twisting it back in place with a crack. “Murderer.” Dennis glanced up and his vision was filled in a black blur. His jawline burned as he flew high in the air, slamming into the floor hard enough that he saw stars. The wind left his lungs, his head throbbed, and he lay stunned on the ground. “You murdered someone today. A good man, a good person,” the masked vigilante spat as they stalked towards him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve have done?!” Dennis groaned in reply. He slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Every movement sent sharp stabbing pains throughout his body, sending him rolling off of his back. He grunted at the searing pain in his lower abdomen, and squeezed his eyes shut. His nose throbbed fiercely, making him gasp in pain. When he opened his eyes again, he spotted the masked figure standing over him. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dennis croaked hoarsely. “Liar!!” The assailant screamed, shooting their hands forward and grabbing Dennis’s collar. Dennis’s eyes grew large as his face was brought close to the masked strangers’. “W-Wait! Please, just give me a chance, just give me a chance!” Dennis pleaded, his voice shaking as the grip around his collar tightened even more. “What about my uncle? Did you give him a chance?!” The attacker asked furiously. “Did you?!” Before Dennis could reply the masked assailant sets him down on his knees. While still tightly holding his collar in one hand, while using the other to strike Dennis’s face. The abrupt punch was followed by another and then another. Each blow landed harder than the last, causing the already painful blows to double. In his last fleeting moment of consciousness, Dennis watched as the masked strange stranger unceremoniously threw him to the floor, straddles themselves on top of him, and proceeds to lashed out at his face in a series of punches. The last thing he felt was his own groaning and rasping breathing. And then all was quiet. Peter Parker breathed heavily under his mask as he held his assault on the man who murdered his uncle. Said man laid on the floor with his head lolling to the side. Even with the mask the murderer wore, Peter could clearly see the blood beneath the mask pooling from their neck to the floor. After a few minutes Peter placed two fingers on their neck to feel for a pulse. At first, there was none. Then after a couple more seconds, they gave a weak twitch underneath his fingers. “They’re alive.” Peter whispered under his mask. “Just unconscious.” Peter shifted his gaze towards the murderer’s mask. His hand slowly reached out towards the murderer’s mask and grabbed a handful of it. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled down the mask. Peter’s eyes widened in horror and gasped at what was before him. The man had short blonde hair styled into an undercut, and light brown skin. Peter’s horror increased tenfold when the man’s eyes fluttered open, and he’s met with two chocolate orbs. The same ones he saw back at the lobby. “That—That face! Its—oh no, it can’t be…” Peter’s voice faded away as a sudden realization dawned upon him. He began to rethink the incident back at the lobby. “Thanks…” “Why didn’t you stop him?” “Not my job.” “Kid, I saw the way you fought in the ring, you could’ve taken that guy apart.” “I’m sorry, but I’ve missed the part where that’s my problem.” Tears poured from Peter’s eyes under his mask. All this time he was beating up the man he let slip past him, because he couldn’t be bothered. The same man that he could’ve taken down easily with his spider-powers, yet he didn’t take advantage of any opportunity to do so. This was all his fault. He’s the one to blame; he should’ve stopped him earlier when he had the chance! Peter pulled his own mask off and clasped a hand over his mouth. Had he stopped the thief when the opportunity presented itself, Uncle Ben would still be here. Alive and whole, with him and Aunt May like always! But instead he let the crime slide by without doing anything about it. Because he was too selfish to stop a runaway thief, and it was that very selfishness that caused the death of his uncle. Peter glanced to the corner of the room. He saw a long rolled up rope sitting neatly stacked beside a big tire. He walked towards it and retrieved the rope in his hand, then went back to crouch beside the man he brutally attacked. Peter sat the barley conscious man upright and began tying the rope around both of his wrists tightly. Once Peter was finished, he stood back up and retreated backwards. Peter slid his mask back on while rolling his body around and started towards the window to the side building. He began crawling on the wall, taking care not to be caught by the cop’s flashlights. By the time Peter reached the roof, he immediately leapt to the air, faraway from any police vehicles and their blinding lights. The leap upon landing on another roof was followed by another and another. The world blurred around Peter as he proceeded to leap from one roof to another. He honestly didn’t know where he was going nor any semblance of a plan in mind. Mixed emotions of hatred, regret, and grief swirled within him akin to a stormy sea. Only then did Peter come to a halt by standing at the precipice of a highrise apartment block. Peter slowly sat down at the edge. He pulled his mask off of him, placing it down at his side. He held his knees up against his chest and buried his head between them. The floodgates burst forth as hot tears ran down his cheeks, soaking through the fabric of his suit. He cried quietly as he hugged himself with his arms, letting the pain that plagued him flow out of his system. Peter wept until the tears ceased flowing. Ten minutes passed before he decided to stand up once again. As he stood up, he glanced down at the night streets of Manhattan. Not staring at the individuals walking down the sidewalks, rather into space, lost inside his thoughts. Peter closed his eyes as he thought about the last words his Uncle said to him. With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility. Peter’s eyes opened and glanced down at his mask. He picked it up and brought it close to his face, staring intently at it. He slowly brought it back to his side. Peter’s eyes narrowed as a new found determination coursed through his veins. A new purpose for life took center stage in Peter’s mind; it filled him with energy he hadn’t known was inside of him. And right now, with the promise of change looming over him, Peter knew that he must fulfill it. Not just for himself, but for Uncle Ben. Peter clenched the mask in his fist tightly. He was selfish. So selfish—and Uncle Ben paid the price. Not just his uncle, but he and Aunt May as well. He will never forgive himself for that. He will never ever forget that he could have stopped it. It’s all so clear to him now. It’s like he’s been wearing a blindfold and ear muffs all his life, and someone just ripped them off him. Peter sees the world clear now; and he sees where his place is in it. Peter glanced up at the moon basking its white glow down on him and the city below. For some reason he’s been given great power, and he acknowledges now that his gifted powers did not come to him by chance. He had a responsibility to protect people who’re unable to defend themselves. He didn't understand his Uncle's words, solely because he didn't want to listen to him and do his own thing. But he understands them clearly now, and he knows what he has to do. Peter closed his eyes. He internally makes a promise to himself. He will be responsible with his gift, use his power to save people and fight against any evil that may bring harm to innocent people. All while donning his suit and taking up the role of Manhattan’s friendly neighborhood hero. Peter snapped his eyes open. His nose was assaulted by the smell of something… burning. His gaze shifted from the moon to his right where he spotted a fire raging away. Smoke ascended into the air, filling the entire area in a dark gray haze. Peter quickly puts his mask back on and jumps from the roof. He began leaping through the city above many pedestrians and cars that drove by. Few individuals would halt in their place in time to glance up at him as he swung overhead. The spectators were of no concern to him; their attention was drawn elsewhere as he moved from streetlamp to streetlamp, eventually approaching a large building. Peter's eyes blinked in surprise. He was staring at a building that was on fire. Flames licked from its top as it threatened to engulf the entire building. The structure's fire alarms blared as smoke poured from all the windows, firefighters swarmed to the building attempting to put out the flames. Meanwhile police officers tried to disperse the crowd, directing the fleeing onlookers away. Peter glanced down in time to see a woman trying to break through the firefighters and paramedics. Her eyes shone red and was covered in ash from her surroundings but she didn't care. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she struggled to break out of the two firefighters' grip, but they remained firm despite her pleas. Her cries grew louder when the two men pulled her away from the inflamed building. "Please, my children are in there!" Shrieked the woman, struggling against the hold on her arm. "I'm sorry ma'am but I can't let you in!" Said one of the fire fighters. "But my children!" Exclaimed the woman. "I'm sorry! We can't let you. It's too dangerous!" Replied the second fire fighter. "NO! Let ME GO!" Screamed the woman, still struggling against the grip of the men. Peter shifted his gaze towards the engulfed edifice. His eyes narrowed with unwavering determination. With a spring he gracefully launched himself fast through a window, shattering the glass upon entry. Peter’s feet made contact with the plush carpeted floor, he swiftly pivoted, and meticulously surveyed the room for any lingering souls unable to escape. The flickering flames illuminated the space, casting ethereal shadows that gracefully danced upon the walls. Peter diligently scanned the vicinity, his eyes darting in search of any semblance of movement, until they finally alighted upon a closet. Peter blinked. He heard sniffling from within the closet doors. He approached the doors and carefully pulled them aside. Inside were two toddlers, a boy and a girl huddled together. The little girl had pale skin with ginger hair covering half of her face. She wore a polkadot short sleeve t-shirt, and blue shorts. Her hazel eyes were glazed with dried out tears as she stared up at Peter. The little boy shared the same skin as his sister. However, unlike hers, his hair was pitch black and spiked upwards. He wore a pair of red pants, along with a black hoodie. His chocolate eyes gazed up at Peter. They looked to be around seven or eight years old. The two siblings's whimpering turned into quiet sniffles as they backed away from Peter. Peter crouched down before them, keeping his voice low so as to not scare the two youngsters. The youngsters watched him cautiously. "Hey…" spoke Peter softly, keeping his tone calm and soothing. "It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The little boy and girl sniffled as they eyed Peter warily. “I’m here to bring you guys back to your mom,” continued Peter. “You wanna go back to her, right?” The youngsters glanced at each other nervously before looking back up at Peter. They gave small nods. “Good,” said Peter. “Come on, I’ll carry you?” The children hesitated before the girl timidly stepped forward. Then the boy trailed after and Peter wrapped his arms around both of the youngster’s waist. Peter’s heart melted as he gently picked them up. He stood slowly before turning his gaze back to the window and leapt out. Peter breathed deeply when the scent of fresh air filled his nostrils. It was refreshing compared to the acrid smell that lingered in the building just moments ago. He sighed and relaxed as he felt the wind blowing against his skin; it was invigorating as he floated in midair, enjoying the scenery surrounding him. Peter landed on the ground next to both the stunned woman and the firefighters. Even the paramedics and the crowd halted momentarily when they noticed him. The police were the only ones unaffected; all three of them were busy trying to calm some of the bystanders. Peter approached the mother, then released the children and watched them running towards her. The woman's eyes widened as she looked down at her children hugging her tightly. A gentle smile broke across her features as she crouched down and cooed the crying youngsters. She wrapped her arms around them, rocking them gently back and forth and whispering sweet things. A small tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, my babies." Whispered the woman before she looked at Peter with a tear-filled smile. "Thank you." Peter nodded his head in reply. The mother’s lips parted, as to ask Peter something but he had already leapt away into the night, leaving her alone among the firefighters and policemen. As Peter jumped from one rooftop to another, he heard a woman screaming in terror. A quick glance behind revealed that the woman, a civilian in her mid-thirties, was surrounded by a trio of men. One man in the middle held a knife as he slowly stalked towards the woman. His muscular goons followed behind him, each carrying an axe and a bat in hand. The woman proceeded retreating backwards until her back hit the wall. Peter glared at the approaching men with fury in his eyes. He jumped off the edge and landed in between the trio of thugs and the frightened civilian. The thugs took a couple steps back, startled by his sudden appearance. Before any of the men could react, Peter slams one foot into the ground creating a small crater. Crackles of red and blue lighting circulated around his leg—all up to his thigh for a brief moment, before quickly followed by launching forward and striking his fist to the man with the knife’s chest. The thug’s body coiled around Peter’s fist. Yelling in pain as the force of it flung him backwards, while Peter stayed rooted where he stood. The second thug saw Peter in the corner of his eye in an instant, just as his fist smashed into his jaw. The thug’s jaw burned from where Peter’s fist struck, the sensation spreading across his face. The thug bounced on the alleyway way floor before hitting his back hard on the side wall. The third remaining thug whipped out his knife in front of Peter. He launched forward with a yell, shooting his hand forward to stab the assailant from behind. But thanks to Peter’s spider-sense, he anticipated this and easily sidestepped the slash. The thug blinked in surprise when he only cut air, causing him to stumble. He attempted to regain his footing, but he was met with a fist to his cheek. Peter’s fist caved into his cheek, and he bounced across the alleyway for a few meters before laying still. Peter scanned his surroundings for any more threats to take care of before facing the civilian who was staring at Peter with her mouth agape in shock. A smile formed on her lips as she stared at him in amazement. “Are you alright ma’am?” Asked Peter. “Yes, thank goodness,” she replied. “Okay, call the police, and tell them what happened here,” instructed Peter. She nodded before turning on her heel and dialing the emergency number. Peter glanced at all three of the thugs. The trio laid groaning on the alleyway floor. All three of them had their eyes shut tight, one of them clutching onto their stomach in pain. The other sat his back against the wall, unconscious with his hanging head to the side, and the third thug laid knocked out cold on his stomach. Peter leapt high in the air with incredible speed. He landed on the roof, then leapt to another, and another. It didn’t take long until he stopped at one roof and saw a group of thugs cornering a married couple. He leapt off the roof and landed In between them without hesitation. The crook in front of him blinked in surprise. "What the? Where did you-" Peter didn't give him enough time to finish his sentence as he leapt forward with incredible speed and lashed his fist straight in the crook's stomach. Pain flooded his body. He doubled over with wide eyes, clutching his stomach as he coughed, and dropping his gun. Everyone was stunned. One of the crooks shouted. "You little punk!" The thug's trigger finger got tighter around the handle and fired several rounds of Dust into the strange man. Each round was aimed at his chest, and said rounds missed its mark as Peter dodged each shot with ease. The gangster screamed in frustration as they proceeded to fire shots continuously at Peter with no result. Peter landed behind in an assumed crouch position. The thug rolled around to glance down at him, prompting Peter to throw an uppercut straight into the man's chin! The Crooked Man flew backward as saliva dripped from his lip, landing hard on his back. The other thieves gawked in disbelief. All of the thugs started to back away in terror. Peter sprinted towards two gangsters and struck both his fists into their chest hard. The pair’s eyes widened, their bodies coiled around Peter’s fists, and pain flooded exploded in their whole being. The pair doubled over whilst clutching their stomachs, followed by dropping their handguns and falling on their sides. Peter snapped his gaze towards another thug. Said thug had already aimed his gun at him, firing three rounds of bullets at him, which Peter easily dodged. Peter sprinted towards the assailant then jumped in the air, raised his rear leg, and roundhouse kicked the crook’s cheek. The crook flew fast and far until he landed outside of the alley, laying still on the sidewalk. Peter scanned his surroundings for any more threats to take care of before facing the two civilians who were staring at Peter with their mouths agape in shock. He glanced at the group of the thugs, finding them on the alleyway floor groaning in pain. Before the woman could ask, Peter leapt high in the air, disappearing over the roof. Leaving the married couple staring up in awe and wonderment. Peter advances through the city by jumping over rooftops towards home. On this day the moon ascends to a new era. The era of The Amazing Spider-Man. Captain George Stacy watched the paramedics set the thief on a stretcher as they pulled him onto the ambulance. He sighed and ran his hand through his short blonde hair. Three minutes before he arrived here, the runaway criminal, Dennis Carradine, was chased down into an abandoned warehouse. The cops had the area surrounded so the man had no escape. That is until the three officers heard the man screaming. At first no one knew what was happening inside the warehouse. When Captain Stacy arrived, everyone entered the building to search for the criminal. However, when he and the officers found him, they were shocked. Dennis was on the floor, his face bruised, bleeding, and severely beaten. It was as if someone was almost beating the thug to a pulp. Even now George still has no idea how the man was still alive. But all that mattered was that they caught the guy. But George still couldn’t help but wonder… “Who could’ve done that to him, Captain?” George Stacy glanced at the officer beside him. The young officer stared at Dennis’s broken state as the ambulance sped towards their destination. The young officer shifted his gaze towards George. “I mean, I’ve seen criminals beat up before… but not like that,” Officer continued. “Whoever was fighting him was beating him to a pulp.” George sighed and turned his gaze towards where the ambulance had driven off. “I wish I knew,” said George. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s been a long night.” George turned away towards his police car. Peter slowly walked down the sidewalk back towards home. His countenance was as somber as a graveyard. He glanced up to see a familiar face sitting on the stairs near his house. It belonged to a girl – Gwen Stacy, who now stood up as soon as she saw him coming. Gwen approached Peter until the pair were standing right in front of each other, both bearing their own solemn expressions. “How are you doing?” Gwen asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. “I—uh… I don’t know,” Peter replied. “Your aunt’s staying with your neighbors.” Gwen informed him. “Good.” Peter replied curtly. “They asked me to wait for you. Bring you back to their place—you know—if you want.” Gwen added. Peter replied with a nod. Silence once more descended upon them. Neither seemed to know quite how to break it. After a few minutes, Gwen stepped up to Peter and pulled him into a warm hug. Peter blinked in surprise. “I’m so sorry…” Gwen whispered. Peter’s eyes watered at that statement. He wrapped his arms around Jaune as he cried quietly. The sound of his tears echoed through the quiet streets. During the war the Daily Bugle was founded on the streets of Manhattan. It was a daily tabloid newspaper read by the citizens, and the publication constantly edged out its rival The Daily Globe to be the most read newspaper in the country. During said war, a man named Jameson worked for the Bugle, once almost catching a picture of an unmasked Captain America. This man later served as an editor, directing C. Thomas Sites. He served as publisher many years ago, when the Daily Bugle printed a story alleging, correctly despite official denial, that Captain America had been lost at sea. A group of bugle staff sat down on a gathering table in a office. All of them staring at the man who stood across the table holding a headline newspaper. A man who long ago began his journalistic career as a reporter for the Bugle while still in high school. He purchased the then-floundering Bugle with monies obtained from assets inherited, and turned the paper into a popular success. He is a demanding, loud, and rather bitter old individual, and his name is J. Jonah Jameson. “Well, let’s just see what the distinguished competition has for their headline this morning…” Jonah said sarcastically, not bothering to look away from his newspaper. “Huh. And let’s see, what did the journal run this morning? And…what, pray tell, did the Daily Bugle decide to run this morning? Some fat cat’s car catches fire.” Jonah turned to face his staff with narrowed eyes. “It’s a crap story. A crap story and we didn’t even have any decent art to go with it,” he said bitterly, folding up the newspaper and tossing it on the conference trash can. “So my question to you is… what is our front page news today?” Jonah walks towards the window and flashes his hand towards the sky. “There’s a guy,” he continued. “There’s a guy out there dressed up in his underwear—running around calling himself Spider-Man. That is fantastic! That is what sells newspapers. I want to know his name. I want to know his birth sign.” Jonah glanced at his staff over his shoulder. “I want to know if the stories of his “Wall Crawling” are true. He can crawl walls? Is he a mutant? Did he rocket to remnant from some doomed planet from somewhere? I want to know if he has some kind of superpower or if he’s just pulling the wool over everyone’s shillelaghs. I want to find out if this idiot is the same guy as that wrestler.” Jonah turned towards Urich and stepped towards him. “Urich, I want you to go to the stadium and I want you to do a follow up on that robbery story.” Jonah instructed. Urich blinked in bewilderment. “What?” Urich asked confusedly. “I heard this Spider-Man was there when the robbery went down, and before that he became a wrestling champion that night,” Jonah explained. “I want to know why the same wrestler is going around makin’ Boy Scout in his Jammies.” “But Jonah, I’m working on…” Urich protested. Jonah silenced him by pointing a finger at him. “The Kingpin can wait to have his big fat butt handed to him by you another day, Ben. If you haven’t dug anything up on the Murdock case by now, you probably aren’t going to.” Jonah snapped. “But…” “Get your name on a headline “Star Reporter,” that’s what I pay you for.” Jonah picked up a newspaper from the table and stared at the back of the masked vigilante briefly before glancing back at his staff. “I want to know everything there is to know about Spider-Man. I’m telling you—I smell it! This is our new O.J. Hero or Villain? Cow artist or crook? People won’t—they won’t be able to get enough of him one way or another.” Jonah walks back towards the window as he concludes his speech, looking out of the windowside toward the street below. “In fact, right this second—I bet that creepy schvatz is up to something that’ll be our headline tomorrow.” Four days later… The rays of sunlight gracefully infiltrated the crevices in the blinds. Resembling delicate laser beams that bestowed their luminosity upon Peter reclining on his bed. He groaned as he sat upright, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand, before reaching for his alarm clock on the nightstand. It blared an annoying beep at him which he silenced by flipping over and pressing the end button with two fingers. Peter lifted his bed sheets off and rubbed the morning crust out of his eyes. He walked into his bathroom to start his morning rituals to begin the day. Turning the bathroom lights on he lifted both his eyes to look himself over in the mirror to see his messy hair, and his white t-shirt and black shorts still clean with no stains whatsoever, making part of his morning routine complete. Peter took off his pajamas, kicked them away, and proceeded towards the shower, once he was finished he brushed his teeth, and returned to his bedroom to attire himself. He rummaged through his wardrobe and chose to wear a pair of black jeans and a gray turtleneck sweater. His hair was already starting to dry and frizz though, so he brushed it out to make sure nothing stuck. After pulling his shoes on, he grabbed his backpack and headed downstairs to the kitchen. As soon as Peter's shoes touched the ground his nose caught the scent of eggs and bacon, causing his stomach to growl loud enough for Aunt May to notice him enter the kitchen. "Ah, there you are, Peter. Did you sleep well?" Aunt May asked while holding a frying pan full of scrambled eggs. "Yup," Peter replied, setting another dining set across the table for her to eat breakfast. Aunt May poured some eggs onto her plate and the rest to Peter. He pulled her chair for her to sit on and kissed her cheek. Peter soon sat down and they both said their prayers and started eating. Reaching for the remote, May turned on the TV for the both of them. A beautiful woman appeared on the screen. Her hair was tied down to a ponytail and her eyes were hazel with a bit of green to their beauty. She wore a nice red suit with long sleeves, her skirt reaching down to her knees, and black heels. The anchorwoman clears her throat and begins her monologue. "With the added news that the infamous Vulture has escaped, the number of bank thefts has increased exponentially over the months making many people of Manhattan worry about the future of this city." The news anchorwoman reported on the recent string of robberies, showing pictures of shops ransacked with their dust stolen. "However, all changed when several shop owners were saved by the masked vigilante known only by the name: Spider-man." The images depicting the incidents of dust shop robberies were promptly replaced with ones that showcased Spider-Man, firmly grasping two incapacitated criminals in each hand. In another photograph, Spider-Man was seen skillfully ensnaring the aforementioned thugs with his webbing, securing them to the ground. As he swung away from the scene of the crime, Spider-Man kindly acknowledged the shop owners with a wave. Peter, upon observing the photograph, couldn't help but smile, fully aware that the efforts he was exerting were not in vain, given the noticeable decline in criminal activity. "Crimes have decreased these past few weeks making people notice the crime fighter's good deeds. Going to the streets, we have our news reporter asking the people of Manhattan what they think of Spider-man." The anchorwoman was soon replaced by a young man in the middle of a busy part of Manhattan. "Thanks, Jenny. As you can see around me many people are getting ready for work, but some are also looking up in hopes of seeing the Spider-Man in action." The cameraman shifted his sights to bystanders walking around to get to work while some were looking to the sky, seeing if they might catch a glimpse of the wall-crawler web swinging from building to building. "I've asked many people about what they think of Spider-man and his crusade on crime. Here are their answers." The next scene shows different people. Commenting what views they have on Peter's actions of being Spider-man. "Spider-Man? That guy's the best! Literally lifted my car to the shop when it broke down on 7th! And I'm using 'literally,' the right way, yeah? I tried to pay him! But he declined and said, and I quote: 'Your smile is enough.' I mean, what more can I say? He's the best!" "You wanna know what I think? He's nothing but a menace to the whole kingdom. He's probably some Huntsman deciding to take the law into his own hands." "I think what he's doing is a heroic act. The police can't stop this much crime, so it's nice knowing the fact we have someone else cleaning the streets and keeping us safe." "He throws up his hands, ropes come out, and he climbs up the ropes like a spider web." "I see the web and it's a signature, and I know Spider-Man was here." "The guy protects us, you know protects the people." “Some kind of freakyloo or something. Wakadoo.” “He stinks and I don't like him.” The scene changes back to the anchorwoman. "As you can see, many people have mixed reviews about our neighborhood vigilante,” she said, fully turning her body to face the camera. “But to the news crew we only have one question." For dramatic effect, the camera zoomed in close for Lisa Lavender to ask the golden question. "Who is Spider-man?" Aunt May turned off the TV and went back to eating her breakfast. "Goodness, that Spider-man sure is helping the city." She said, turning her gaze towards Peter. Peter nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he is." Aunt May gazed at Peter with concern. "I'd prefer if you ever see him stopping crimes or doing anything dangerous, promise me you will run away." She turned her head to look at the picture across the room. Peter knew what picture it was, but he didn't turn around to look at it. After a minute of eating Peter finished his plate. He got up from the table, taking the dishes off said table, and placing them in the sink. Before Peter could reach for his backpack, he walked up to Aunt May as she was cleaning the dishes. "I'll see you later, Aunt May." Quickly giving her a peck on the cheek, Peter grabbed his backpack near the table and started towards the front door. Peter descended down the stairs until he stood on the sidewalk. He briefly surveyed the crowd of passersby, observing two children engaged in lively conversation on the opposite side of the sidewalk, while a family of three patiently awaited the arrival of the bus from a nearby bench. Peter turned to his right and caught sight of the bus just as it pulled up. The bus doors opened and individuals began boarding. Filling the seats in an unending stream of bodies, and Harry embarked last with poise. The bus proceeded forward, rumbling towards its subsequent destination. Making several stops in various parts of the neighborhood, Peter encountered a few other children along the way, eventually seeing Harry approaching his designated seat and sitting down beside him. "Morning Harry." Peter greeted Harry with a smile. "Morning Pete." Harry returned, smiling back at him. "How’s your morning been?" Peter asked, tilting his head. Harry sat down beside him. Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Could’ve been better. But hey, no point dwelling on it.” Peter and Harry engaged in conversation on various subjects while awaiting the arrival of the bus that would transport them to the school. Unbeknownst to them and the students, a man in a dark winged suit was watching the moving vehicle from above. His HUD zoomed in on Harry Osborn and he hummed. He was a pale, balding man donning a mechanical green exo-suit. His eyes were narrow, with small brown irises, accompanied by relatively long lower eyelashes and petite eyebrows. Prominent steel wings extended from his back, while his mouth was concealed by an armored black plague mask, adorned with intricate gold embroidery. On each foot, he wore steel-like talons resembling those of a bird, sharpened to a fine point. Additionally, his metallic green gloves featured black claws affixed to the joints of his hands. Vulture narrowed his eyes and flapped his wings forward. The bus arrived at their destination on time. The students disembarked one by one, with Peter and Harry being the last to alight. While Harry walked towards school among the students, Peter halted in his tracks. Peter blinked in alarm. His spider-sense was tingling! Peter glanced at the city of Manhattan over his shoulder. Even from far away he can hear the blaring sirens from behind the buildings. Peter closed his eyes and sighed. "Welp… guess I'm gonna be late for class." Said Peter under his breath. Peter snapped his eyes open as they narrowed with determination. He turned away from the courtyard and sprinted towards the street, paying no mind to the citizens as they watched him run down the sidewalk with incredible speed. He eventually rounded a corner into an alleyway, pulling his shirt over his head and threw it aside. As quickly as the boy appeared, a blur shoots out of the alleyway high in the air. Swinging on a web. Twilight Velvet was seemingly oblivious to the potential destruction it could cause as she stood among the pedestrians who observed a convertible speeding in their direction. Such occurrences are often witnessed on television, undoubtedly. But Twilight, having resided in Manhattan her entire life, had never before been an actual eyewitness to such an event. Two police cars were closely tailing the convertible, akin to determined bloodhounds that had caught the scent. One of the police cars pulled up alongside, and the Lincoln abruptly veered sharply. It forcefully collided with the police car, causing the officer behind the wheel to lose control. In the midst of the chaos, the officer let out a scream, which was soon joined by the cries of the onlookers as his vehicle somersaulted completely over. It was hurtling directly towards Twilight and the individuals in close proximity to him. And then it stopped. In midair. Twilight gasped at what she was seeing. As did the individuals surrounding her. It was as if the intangible hand of the divine had indeed descended and grasped the automobile, thus preserving their lives. Twilight blinked. He caught sight of something shimmering in the illumination of the street lamps. It appeared to be upholding the police car, suspending it in mid-air. He cautiously extended his hand and made contact with something that seemed to exist and yet not exist simultaneously. "It's a web," Twilight uttered. A gust of wind suddenly rushed by. Followed by the sound of something slicing through the atmosphere above them. Prompting Twilight and the rest of the onlookers to lift their heads and witness a figure adorned in blue and red zooming past in the sky. Twilight found it quite unbelievable. She had been convinced that it was a fabrication concocted by the news media to boost newspaper sales or promote products for advertisers on Daily News. However, to her astonishment, there stood the costumed individual who had made numerous appearances in news reports. The convertible swiftly traversed an intersection up ahead as it was closely pursued by the remaining police vehicle. Subsequently, the traffic light altered its signal and the cross-traffic commenced its movement. Spider-Man was now hurtling directly towards a substantial truck that had positioned itself directly in his trajectory. It was utterly impossible for Spider-Man to decelerate in time to evade the truck. He did not even attempt to do so. Instead, he contorted his body sideways, narrowly clearing the confined space between the truck and the cab that was transporting it. The truck driver twisted in his seat, gaping, as Spider-Man angled up and away, accompanied by a deliriously demented, "Whooooooo-hoooooooo!" One man leaned out of the window with their pistol in hand and began firing up at him. Not only was the gunman firing up at him, but the driver was likewise leaning out the window and shooting. Upon looking up at the web-head, he noticed something different about him. The web head changed his costume. No longer did the web crawler wear the spider-like sweater and black jeans. The new costume he donned predominantly featured a resplendent shade of blue, accentuated by red gloves, boots, mid-section, and mask. A web-like pattern gracefully adorned the crimson sections of the suit, originating from the mask. Additionally, a black spider insignia embellished the center of the chest, while a larger red spider emblem graced the back. "Eyes on the road, boys! Wouldn't want to hurt somebody!" Shouted Spider-Man, even though he knew they weren't going to hear him. With a remarkable display of agility that would have surely impressed even the most accomplished Olympic gymnast, Spider-Man skillfully evaded the incoming bullets, gracefully maneuvering through the air. In a swift motion, he swooped down, launching web-balls with precision. One of these web-balls successfully disarmed the driver, causing the pistol to slip from his grasp. The other web-ball struck the gunman directly under his chin, momentarily stunning him. As a result, he found himself hanging weakly out of the window, his arms dangling helplessly while the gun clattered away. Spider-Man gracefully landed on the trunk of the speeding car and extended his wrists. With remarkable precision, web-lines shot out, skillfully ensnaring the torsos of both men. The other ends of these webs were securely attached to a nearby lamppost. Due to the car's own momentum, it continued to roll forward, causing the web-lines to gradually stretch and then snap taut. Consequently, the driver and the gunman were effortlessly lifted up and out of the car, left suspended from the lamppost, their fate now in the hands of Spider-Man. Spider-Man slithered in through the open window just as the convertible was beginning to slow. He didn't allow it the opportunity and brought his foot down on the gas, speeding it up. As he turned down a side street, he caught a glimpse of bewildered police behind him pulling to a stop. They were staring in wonderment at the sight of the criminals suspended in midair by gossamer-thin threads. The officer glanced down when something fell on his feet. He outstretched his arm, retrieving a folded piece of paper in his hand. When he unfolded it, he found a message written on the paper and began to internally read it. Courtesy from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.