Prolouge
I am not an ordinary 14-year-old. I’m not popular, am never invited to parties, and only have one and a half friends (MJ kinda intimidates me and I don’t know if she truly thinks I’m a loser or not so she counts as half a friend). Although I get picked on a lot at school by Flash and his gang, I still enjoy it.
Classes are super easy for me, and not to brag, but I have been the top student for a while and could probably even skip a couple grades if I didn’t have a fear of not being in the same grade as my best friend Ned. Although most of my classes are boring since I already know the material being covered, it’s nice to be able to take my mind away from more troubling things like whether or not the rent’s going to be paid on time. School is definitely more enjoyable when the biggest bully there, Eugene “Flash'' Thompson is out of school. The three weeks he went to a tropical island with his rich parents was awesome. I was able to walk the halls more freely, and his gang was still there, but they are less mean when he’s gone. Flash is a bully, yes, but he is definetly not stupid.
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s smart, which makes it ten times harder to avoid him. He doesn’t pick on me as much if Ned’s around, because he doesn’t want to get kicked off the AcaDec team or get detention for two whole months again like he did when Ned ratted him out for shoving me down the stairs by our old middle school, causing me to fracture my arm. That really sucked. I mean, my Aunt May works at the hospital, so you’d think she’d have better medical insurance, but nope. We were struggling for months after that to pay the water and heat bills, and had to make up several excuses to Mr Kiwen, the landlord for our apartment complex, about why the money had not been given to him yet. Uncle Ben, who’s name I share as my middle one, nearly lost his head yelling at Mr Medina (the principal) about how Flash should be expelled, but apparently money helps, and Flash’s parents paid the school to keep it quiet, so Flash only had three days of out of school suspension followed by a couple months of detention. He was much more smart about when he picked on me after that incident.
Another thing besides the bills tucked away in my Aunt’s drawer that floats in my thoughts as I struggle to stay awake in history, is patrol. You see, nine months ago, I was bit by a spider. It was no ordinary spider though. It was radioactive, for one, and was slightly smaller than the tarantulas I saw in the Manhattan Zoo, but much bigger than most spiders you see in your house. It was a dark blue color, with brown spots on its underside, which were visible after I smacked it off of my hand and it rolled over on the ground, dead. I stared at the spider on the ground after it bit me for what felt like an eternity. I could feel Bed shaking me, and people shouting at someone, probably me. I tried to look at them and say something, but my eyes rolled backwards and I blacked out, regaining consciousness on my twin bed four hours later, my Aunt and Uncle staring worriedly at me. I assured them that I felt fine, because truly, I felt fine, but I had to talk them out of sending me over to get a checkup after I didn’t pick up my glasses when I got up from bed, insisting that I could see perfectly fine, which scared them quite a bit. I didn’t notice the muscles then, but when I showered that night and I took away the towel, I realized that I had abs and I screamed. Again, it took me forever to explain that, yes, I was fine, and no, there was no real reason to scream.
I realized that I had weird abilities the next morning, when I was getting dressed after breakfast, which didn’t seem to fill up the gap in my stomach at all, and was groping around for the dresser door, my shirt over my head, clouding my vision. I looked down and saw where the dresser was, and I was almost going to get over there when I realized
something. I looked down at the dresser. Down. At. The. Dresser. Needless to say I freaked, falling down from the ceiling and landing on the carpet with a squeak of confusion.
I found out more weird things that day, like how I automatically knew a weird chemical formula for something I later knew to be webbing after I looked at some of the ingredients during chem lab, and how I didn’t get tired after five laps around the gym like I normally did. I still pretended to be tired, so that I could still talk with Ned. I also healed a lot faster, and when I got a paper cut from the cardboard lunch trays in the cafeteria, it was completely invisible the next hour. I also needed to eat a lot more food, and when I skipped a meal, something I did all the time PB (pre-bite), I was not able to do AB (after bite) without feeling extremely dizzy and nauseous. I also had enhanced senses, and could hear things from blocks away. I could also see much better than PB, so I did not have to wear glasses, and I could actually see even better than I could back before I got glasses in second grade.
I experimented on what I could do for a while, and was thinking about telling my Uncle Ben and Aunt May about my powers, but felt a little nervous about what their reactions would be like. I thought that telling Uncle Ben would be safer, so I decided to go with him to get OJ after dinner, telling him about what I could do on the way back. Everything was going fine, we got some OJ, with medium pulp because that’s what Aunt May likes the best (“Always be a gentleman Peter, no matter who you are with, be kind and let others make decisions too”), we paid in cash at the counter, and then he came in. He was a tall blonde with tattoos covering his left arm and the back of his neck.
I got a bad vibe from him immediately, but not the kind of bad vibe that you might be wrong about, but the kind that buzzes around in the back of your head in an almost painful kind of way, the kind that is impossible to ignore, that’s screaming at you to *RUN RUN RUN RUN*, but I just ignored it. I didn’t know what I know now, that the spidey-sense is not something to be ignored, and can only mean one thing. Danger. But nope, I shrugged it off (not that you can ever completely shrug of the echoing *RUN DANGER RUN DEATH RUN FEAR RUN HIDE RUN BAD RUN EVIL RUN DANGER* that plays in my head when the spidey alarm goes off) and looked back at my Uncle Ben, who stuck his tongue out at me in a playful manner, causing me to throw my head back in a burst of genuine laughter, not knowing that was the last time I would be able to be happy with him.
I’m not going to go into details about what happened next, but just know that that bad vibes dude tried to rob the store, and I accidently bumped into a soup display, causing it to knock over and the robber to yell at me to shut up (ironic cause he was yelling a lot, even louder than I had been, and loud enough to make my already exploding senses cry out in pain even more). My Uncle tried to stop him after he pointed his gun at me, causing the thief to shoot him in the side, then sprinted out the door while also trying to zip up his bag. The police caught him ten minutes later, but by the time the ambulance arrived my Uncle Ben was gone. It took two paramedics and two police officers to pry me off of his dead body, crying and shaking so bad that I felt like I had been shot as well.
After the funeral for him was held, I biked over to Queens Cemetery every day after school. On the one month anniversary of his death, my Aunt May went to visit him on her lunch break during work, and I went later, skipping out on AcaDec practice to talk with him. I bought flowers from Marcy’s Flowers and a sandwich from Mr Delmar, and propped my bike on the bench near the fence gate. I placed the flowers on his grave, behind the ones that May had put there earlier. I ate my sandwich slowly, wiping away stray tears with my jacket sleeve as they fell. When I was done I played some of the songs on Spotify that we used to jam to together after rough days and lay down on the slightly damp grass, looking up at the clouds. I stayed for a while until I noticed the sun was beginning to get lower, and the sky was losing it’s warm blue and trading it in for darker blues, purples, and pinks. I looked at his grave once more before leaving, and reread the quote on the bottom, the one he used to say to me all the time. With great power comes great responsibility. I smiled weakly, trying to wipe away my sadness before leaving and diving back into the real world. I walked my bike acoss the crosswalks, thinking about how much life sucked, and why did this have to happen to me, and that it’s stupid how horrible my life is.
I mean I lost my parents at a young age, moved in with my Aunt and Uncle, and now the only family I have left is May. I was about to get back on my bike when I heard it. It was a feminine sounding voice, crying out for help. I froze, my spidey-sense tingling. I was about to call 911 from my phone, when I thought about it and realized how long it took for Ben to get help when the police and EMTs were called. Ben. My awesome, hard-working, inspiring, funny, loving Uncle Ben. Gone too soon, like so many others in this place. Others. That’s when I realized how many people out there were like me, waiting helpless for somebody to come and save me and my loved one. Nobody deserves to go through that. I unhooked my leg from my bike, let it crash down, and ran towards the sound. As I got closer and closer my spidey-sense buzz got more intense. *RUN DANGER RUN DANGER!* it told me. No, I thought to myself. I am not going to let my fear let this innocent person get hurt. *RUN FIGHT RUN HELP RUN SAVE RUN FIGHT* the sense in my head said, chanting as I skidded around the corner of a parking lot.
As I went past the 7-Eleven I saw my reflection, and I thought to myself, who do you think you are? A hero? What a loser. It’s not like the bad person is even going to be scared of you and stop? But I kept running. The crying sounds got louder as I finally reached the alley. I yanked my hoodie up, pulling the straps so that they couldn’t see my face. I stepped out, puffing out my chest and trying to appear taller. It did not end like either the ways I imagined it could, by me being thanked over and over by the person being attacked, and the attacker unconscious in the corner, or me not being able to stop the attacker and ending up dying in a ditch just like Flash has always told me I would.
It was a decent fight, the attacker, a woman wearing a black cap and top with cargo printed sweats throwing some good punches, giving the college-aged girl she was mugging time to escape and call the cops. By the time they arrived I had the mugger on the floor, not knowing what to do with them. On the one hand, I felt super good about myself and what I’d done, but on the other hand I didn’t want to freak my Aunt out, and I didn’t want everyone to know. Plus I think it would be suspicious if a small nerdy teenager was able to kick a big buff lady’s buttocks this easily. So I hid behind some trash cans when the cops came, and crept out after they took the mugger away, a smile on my face, happy that I was able to save that girl.
I arrived home, went up the stairs to my apartment because heaven knows the elevator never works, and burst into the room ready to tell Ben all about what I did. Then I remembered about his death. There was a note on the table from my Aunt saying that she would be back late tonight, and I sat down at the table, chomping on an apple, thinking. I went into my room and flopped on my bed, looking at the Iron Man posters up by the window. That was when I had the best idea ever. What if I, Peter Benjamin Parker, became a hero just like Tony Stark. It would be the best! I could make sure that people lived good lives and didn’t end up like Ben, and I could know I was making a difference and that would be awesome. Although I could never be like Tony Stark, because he’s so smart, and cool, and popular. Wait. I don’t want to be popular. I don’t want to be forced to stay inside and not go places in fear of the paparazzi coming, I want to live a normal life. Plus then people like Flash Thompson would go around wanting to be friends, and I could never tell who liked me for me, and who liked me for my fame.
I worked out everything over the next month, taking my old hoodie, swim goggles, leggings, and beanie to make a suit, and perfected the web formula during class, and designed them to be liquid in the containers, and solid once I realise it. I also tested it out in alleyways and my bedroom, making sure I got the skills down before I got out there. After many weeks of preparing, I was finally done, and I said good-night to May early, and waited until she got in bed to creep out of my window in my suit, shaking partly due to nerves, but mostly because of excitement. I wanted to have a cool superhero name, like Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Iron Man, all of the Avengers, but I didn’t know which one to choose from the ideas that I had. They all sounded weird to me, and I didn’t want to be stuck with a weird name forever.
I jumped from rooftop to rooftop, relying on my senses to lead me to somewhere I could help. I found a small girl crying in the park by the cemetery and I talked to the girl for a little while, trying to get her calm enough to tell me about her parents. I had climbed up a building near the girl, making sure to keep an eye on her, to look for her mother, who was only a block and a half away. I held the girl’s hand as we crossed the street and led her to her mother, who was anxiously pacing, trying to call the girl’s father to see if he knew where their daughter was. The girl smiled wide once she saw her mother, and the woman bent over to pick her up, both grinning and laughing with happiness at being together again. The girl pointed to me, and I waved shyly at the mom.
She thanked me for bringing her daughter back, and in the middle of her thanking me I heard someone else in need of help, so I walked up the building backwards, using my sticky feet to grip on. The woman opened her mouth in shock, and the kid giggled and poked her finger inside. I told her she was very welcome and that it was no problem at all. The lady, having gotten over the shock, replied that it is very good that I am here to help. “Yup I-I’m uh, I’m just a f-friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” is what I said back to her, finishing the two story climb and swinging off to the next person in need. That was how I got the name. It kind of just came out.
The next morning I looked in the news app on my phone and saw that the mom of the girl that I had saved the night before posted on Twitter about meeting me, the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’, and how I helped her find her lost kid. The Daily Bugle had reposted that tweet onto their account with the title “New Hero in Town?” in bold print across the top. I grinned and screenshotted the article, saving it to a new album, which is now full of Spider-Man pictures.
My friend Ned found out three months after that, when I accidentally came in the window in my suit while he had just been let in there by May. He freaked for a bit, but then became my guy in the chair, and is currently helping me design KAREN, the AI in my suit. He helps out a lot, communicating with the police after I stop a mugging or something, and hacked into the police servers to get access to their scanners and video cameras. It’s a whole lot for a teenager to deal with, but I have to do this. Because with great power comes great responsibility.