Alright, let’s do this one last time.
I used to be Peter Parker.
I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for two years I was the one and only Spider-Man. I’m sure you know the rest.
I fought between two opposing sides of the Avengers (stole Cap’s shield), busted an illegal arms ring, fell in love, tried to go on vacation, ended up saving London, got the girl, only to be framed as a villain and had my identity revealed. I had to sleep on my aunt’s ex-boyfriend’s couch, got rejected from every college ever, and in a fit of desperation, got a wizard to try to erase everyone’s memory of me as Spider-Man.
But I got too greedy.
I tried to save my friends’ and family’s memories, but I unleashed a spell that made people from different universes try to hunt me down in the process. I fought an octopus man, an electric man, a lizard man, a sand man… and a guy who took my entire life from me.
I lost my aunt, I lost my girlfriend. My best friend turned his back on me.
There was nothing left for me. Everyone in the world hated me and thought I was a failure. That everyone who ever knew me would suffer and die.
I had enough. I sent everyone back to their universes by reversing the spell, making my original plan useless.
I needed to hide – to disappear. If I couldn't magically make everyone forget Peter Parker, I would kill him myself. After getting rid of the suit, I ran from Queens, New York, and the entire east side of the country. I changed my name, forged a license, and moved into an apartment in a shitty part of San Francisco. Maybe I got into a little bit of trouble, ran from the cops a couple times, got too close to a bad clique.
My memory is hazy now, but there was one night I found something. Had no idea what the hell it was. All I can remember is a black mass surrounding and restraining me. Some nasty looking stuff, honestly. The only images I could recall afterwards were the bruised and bloodied corpses of the men who messed around with me and influenced me a little too much. I panicked and tried to run away before I realized my body was covered in a skin tight organic matter. As black as the end of the universe and alive like an organism in constant evolution. I tried with all my strength to tear it off of me – I was no killer.
But… they deserved it, didn't they? They were the bad guys, running a dangerous gang. Wouldn't it be a good thing if they were dead? Spider-Man was gone, but… that didn't mean I couldn't continue what I was always meant to do.
I was able to control the suit better, letting it take over when I needed to enact some “justice,” shall we say? I never felt so alive – so free. I could do whatever I wanted, be whatever I wanted. I had all the power I could ever have, and as long as Spider-Man was dead, I would never be shackled by what was considered right or wrong. Enough with decisions, enough with forgiveness! What had anyone ever given me?! I trusted everyone with my heart and soul but they gave up on me! I’d show them all the pain I feel, how I wish I had died that night my whole world was torn apart.
There was no Peter Parker, there was no Spider-Man.
My name is Ben Reilly. I achieved symbiosis with a powerful lifeform and for the past year I’ve been the one and only Lethal Protector.