Chapter 1
Peter knew something was wrong. He was stuck to his expensive linen sheets. Thrashing and rolling, Peter fell to the floor in a burrito of fabric. The teen mentally retraced the previous day, nothing strange happened-except for the field trip. Peter snuck off to eliminate a threat. An employee named Micheal O’Mara, who read a file concerning Alchemax’s involvement with the Hand. A spider bit Peter after he slipped Dr. O’Mara’s coffee mug with Gao’s poison. One of the scientist’s spiders escaped and bit Peter. When Otomo picked Peter up at the end of the day, the younger boy was feeling a little ill. In a world where aliens invaded from the sky and the dead could be resurrected it wasn’t out of question for a spider bite to give someone freaky powers. It did glow weirdly.
“Peter, Mr. Fisk would like to meet with you.” A man said through Peter’s door.
The teen ripped at the linen, causing it to stick to his hands. “You can tell Mr. Fisk he can-” Peter exhaled. “Give me 10 minutes.”
After figuring out the sticky situation (there were still small pieces of the sheets under Peter’s dress shirt), Peter greeted tha man. “How’d you get in my apartment Otomo?”
“I have a key.” Otomo said. Of course he did. The Hand hasn’t trusted Peter since he killed Akatora. In the grand scheme of things, he was a nameless ninja goon that wasn’t worth the substance, but you should never kill your colleagues. Peter was well versed in pop culture to know killing is generally frowned upon, but as Peter slashed his dagger in the man, something inside the boy told him it was right. It was like a hunger was satisfied and Peter needed to feel like that again. New York was his scratching post, where Peter would operate as an assassin.
The two boarded an elevator to the apartment complex garage. Peter opened the Audi door into the backseat and Otomo drove to Manhattan.
A banging entered Peter’s head. The honking, talking, bustling in the streets was too loud. “Are you all right?” Otomo asked.
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter responded. “I’m just tired. Can I get a coffee? At Foam Party?”
Otomo pulled the car over. “Sure. Get me a tea?”
Peter hopped out of the car, trying to block out the noise. He walked quickly into the coffee shop bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Turning on the faucet and splashing water into his face Peter realized a chunk of the sink handle had been...ripped off? Did he do that? Ignoring whatever was going on the assassin got in line and waited to order.
After stammering an order for coconut cold brew ( very gen z) and green tea, Peter caught the end of a conversation.
“Dude the handle of the sink was ripped off! C’mon let me show you.”
“I’m blind, Foggy.”
The bicker was cut off by a barista that called out Peter’s name and handed him two cups. He strode out the store and gave the tea to Otomo. They finished the drive to Fisk’s building, a huge tower made of glass and steel with steps at the top. It reminded Peter of the Aztec temples he saw in textbooks at Midtown.
“Aren’t you coming, Otomo?” Peter asked while climbing out the car.
“The meeting is with you Peter, not me.”
Peter was beyond nervous while passing through security. He met Fisk only once before, when he came to New York. Ignoring this, Peter gave a polite smile to the security guard who patted him down and guided the teen to the elevator. Once Peter reached the top floor he awkwardly sat on the edge of a chair. The windows were giant and the teen couldn’t help but admire the view of the city. It was beautiful, but Peter couldn’t help but feel sad as everyone went about their day beneath him. Did Mr. Fisk enjoy looking down at other people? Like a king admiring his subjects?
Mr. Fisk’s heavy steps interrupted Peter’s anylasis and brought him back to reality. “Mr. Parker,” The large man boomed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Oh-um you too Mr. Fisk. Just Peter is okay sir.”
“Do you know why you are meeting me today, Peter.” Okay, he takes it back, Mr. Parker sounds so much better than however Mr. Fisk said Peter.
“No, sir.”
“I have heard from my associates that you have previously eliminated difficult targets with...ease. Mr. O’Mara had a nasty habit of sticking his nose where it did not belong. You are here so I could thank you personally.”
“I...um-it was no problem Mr. Fisk. Dr. O’Mara uncovered some documents relating to my organization and I’m happy I was able to help you.” Jesus, Parker you are stuttering to one of the most terrifying mob bosses.
“There is a proposition I would like to make for you. I trust you are familiar with Madame Gao?”
***
Getting recruited to be Fisk’s personal assassin was a new low-or high depending on your morals for Peter. The last hitman working for the Kingpin ended up hanging in a jail cell, which Peter hoped would not be his fate.
There was something more important than the overgrown baby at the moment though. Peter typed fiercely at his laptop-courtesy of The Hand for anything on vigilantes. The only consistent crime fighter was the Man in the Black Mask. Beating on criminals every night seemed exhausting. He clearly had some kind of ability, mind reading being a popular theory.
People with spider powers don’t kill under the guise of a better future. Was immortality worth all of this? Living forever knowing what he did and being able to do it all again? A little while back they were reading Tuck Everlasting . Flash had started a debate about immortality, which Peter silently observed. Until Liz Allan had stepped up.
“But doesn’t that defeat the purpose of life? The shortness-we have the unexpected. Is everyone else immortal? Just me? Watching everyone pass on and living on? Sorry Flash it’s a no from me.”
Michelle had said some but Peter had tuned it out. Was it really so wrong? Peter never thought he would miss anyone. He had no friends, no family besides The Hand. Would someone miss Peter the way Liz Allan would miss her friends? Probably not.
People with spider powers fought aliens and dismantled human trafficking rings. Peter’s newest mission was Spider-man.