The premise of this story is a new start to the origins of Spider-Man. Yeah, origin stories suck. Believe me, they do. They almost always do. But prologue is still important, and since a lot of these ideas aren't going into St. Dementia, I figure now is as good as time as any to have a side-project that will get absolutely no endorsements and probably a cease-and-desist from Marvel/Disney very quickly.
Enjoy.
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"Peter Parker, 18 years old. High School graduate with high honors in Science and Fine Arts."
"...so why do we have him behind bars tonight, Lieutenant?"
"Breaking and entering. It's a nice thing that the kid led us straight to Harvey Vaught, but he just had bad timing."
"Heh... Harvey Vaught, the piece of shit finally gets caught thanks to a kid. What was he doin' there anyway?"
"Parker says he was there to steal his TV, and he said it was personal. He claims that Vaught hit his dog one day and he just happened to know where he lived. We couldn't get a hold of his folks so we're keeping him here tonight."
"I hear 'ya, Lieutenant. At least he actually gets to walk away from this with a slap on the wrist. Vaught's goin' away forever for being the schmuck that he is."
"You're tellin' me, Detective. Go ahead and give his folks a call again, they might answer now that it's closer to morning. If I know Ben Parker, I know that he'll at least be awake by now."
"Sure thing."
Peter Parker leaned heavily against the bars of his cell with two inmates. This Manhattan jail was particularly empty. The inmates were playing cards with each other to pass the time. They both knew that they'd be out by morning. Peter Parker knew this. He also knew that while he may have gotten Vaught locked up for every possible crime against humanity, there will be another one to take his place soon.
Peter Parker was angry. And he began to smash the cell wall with his fists.
"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" He screamed.
The inmates looked at Peter, confused. What they didn't know is why Peter was so angry. Peter was angry because Vaught was responsible for a murder that was very close to Peter: His mother's.
"Calm down, kid. Your hands are gonna break before that wall ever does," said one of the inmates.
At a sudden loss of energy, Peter gave up and put his back to the wall and fell to a seated position, "I don't even care anymore..."
The sun peaked through the window as Peter was suddenly awoken by the cell door being unlocked. It only took a few seconds for Peter to notice that his cellmates have already been released back to their turf. He held back a grimace as the door was pulled open by Detective Brock.
"Your uncle's here to get you, Pete. Let's go."
Peter stretched and ran his hand through his greasy, brown hair. He took a bit of time to stand up before he noticed a sharp pain in his hands from his explosion last night. Several of his knuckles had dry blood on them. The blood was clearly his.
"Your nephew's very lucky that we caught him before Vaught did, Mr. Parker. Because of Peter, we were able to pick up one of Manhattan's worst. He should be pretty happy that he's only getting a warning and only his fingerprints in our database. We aren't gonna charge him this time, but make sure he's asleep before you are from now on."
"I'll be sure that Peter and I have a long talk about responsibility, Lieutenant. I'm grateful that you're keeping his record clean, and I definitely owe you one."
"Ben, it wasn't a favor. You and my Dad go way too long back for me to pretend like you owe me anything. If you'd like, though, we can get Peter signed up for some volunteer work here at the station? I hear he's great with lab work, and my crew could really use the help."
"I'm sure Peter would love to sign up as soon as he's available. Thank you, Mary-Jane."
Peter watched as the red-headed cop smiled at Uncle Ben as if he were her own father. He took special note at the way that she blushed, the way that she bit her bottom lip through her smile, and the way that she pushed her chair up very close to her desk so that she could rest her elbows on it with her hands under her chin. Very unprofessional looking for a Lieutenant. She must be eye-candy for the rest of the station, or completely useless on the field. How she ever got to be a Lieutenant is probably for the same reason that Manhattan's crime rate is reaching record highs: Because Manhattan is a fucked up place.
Peter slammed the door as he entered Uncle Ben's Oldsmobile. The car was in pristine condition with not a single stain or sign of use in it. Peter was going to have to clean the seat when he got home.
"Sorry," Peter said.
The car ride home was silent. Uncle Ben would only glance over at Peter at every stop light as Peter stared out the window, vacant.
Uncle Ben thought to himself that Peter was never like this even at the start of his adolescent years, but Ben also knew that Vaught was responsible for the death of Peter's mother. It came to no surprise why exactly Peter was caught at Harvey Vaught's home that night.
As Uncle Ben pulled the Oldsmobile into the Parker's driveway, he decided it's time to talk.
"Peter... I know what you wanted to do with Harvey Vaught."
Peter remained silent.
"I know what you were planning to do. You wanted to kill him."
"If I had met eyes with him, I don't even know what I would have done, Ben."
"There's no one to blame for that, Peter. Any hesitation is a sign that you're human enough to forgive him. Just imagine if you had actually gone through with it. How would you have felt to have taken a life?"
"I would have felt as a man does after a great feast. Satisfied."
Peter got out of the car and walked into the Parker home with his head down. Uncle Ben watched in astonishment as his nephew spoke the same words of a monster. Young Peter, child genius, with murderous intent on a wrongdoer.
"I understand, Peter," he said to himself as he killed the ignition on the Oldsmobile. Uncle Ben decided it was time to take a walk.
Aunt May was replacing a lightbulb as Peter tried to silently close the door behind him.
"I heard about what you did, young man, and I'm very upset with you," Aunt May said.
"I'm sorry, Aunt May, I really am. It's just... it was him, and I know it was him- I wanted ... to-"
Peter didn't even finish his sentence before he fell into May's arms and began to sob. Aunt May was more worried about Peter's safety than she was about his breaking and entering. If anything, she was happy that Peter made it home at all.
"Peter, look at me," she said softly. "The risks you take are going to follow you for the rest of your life. Some of these risks are far worse than any reward they may entail. Taking a person's life for taking a person's life is not a risk worth taking, because it will follow you closer than your own shadow, even after the sun has set on it."
Peter tried to hold back his anger towards Harvey Vaught, but images of his mother only made him cry harder at the feeling that he was not justified in trying to kill him for it.
"...but if I'm not strong enough to move on from it, why should I try to pretend that I'm strong enough to hide it?" Peter said.
"There is no shame in expressing how you feel, Peter. That is what your Uncle and I are here for. We are here to be your foundation when you can't stand on your own!"
"I know, Aunt May... I know, but what am I going to do when I don't have either of you anymore?"
"By then, you will have others to lean on in your times of need. By then, you will be strong enough to overcome any obstacle. By the time your Uncle and I are gone, we will have passed everything we have onto you, Peter. The rest of that will come once you decide to take it from us as a gift, and not as a curse."
Aunt May held Peter in her arms for longer than when she normally held him.
"Now please, Peter, go take a shower. You smell like jailbait."
Peter always admired her humor. Even if she sometimes delivers the punchline wrong.
Uncle Ben returned a few hours later with a paper bag under his left shoulder. Aunt May was out shopping with some girlfriends of hers, and the Parker home was otherwise quiet. He spent no time meandering around the kitchen or living room, but instead went straight upstairs to Peter's room. Ben only knocked twice before entering Peter's room. He found Peter in bed with his back to the door. He could tell that Peter had been brooding since his return home from jail.
"Peter, I picked you up something that I think you'll want to look at."
Peter didn't move. He only sighed heavily as he tried to ignore his Uncle.
"You can't really say no, son. So to better prepare you for it, you might as well listen to me now."
"Shoot," said Peter.
"There's a uhm... Genetics Fair at the Science Museum in a couple days. I figure since you don't have a job yet, and since it would be in your best interest to not let your mind rot, then you should probably attend and get some pictures to take home to your Aunt May and me."
"Great, pictures of DNA and birth defects and goatpig fetuses. That's a good one for the fireplace," Peter said sarcastically.
Uncle Ben sighed. "You can take your camera or leave it at home. It's your call, Pete. I know this is something you'd be interested in. And you only have two months left of your summer before you're stuck in college for the rest of your life, son. Might as well enjoy something while you still can."
Peter said nothing. Ben may have heard a "hmph" under Peter's breath, but he wasn't sure. He sat down on the other side of Peter's bed and put his hands on Peter's shoulder.
"Peter, talk to me. Tell me anything. Tell me everything that's on your mind right now."
Peter rolled over.
"I'll go to the Genetics Fair, Ben, but I won't take any pictures of the gross stuff."
If it was any other day, Ben would have fallen for that fake smile.
"I'm not talking about that, Peter. I want to talk to you about Harvey-"
"Well I don't, Ben. I don't. That sonofabitch got what he had coming, and I'm glad he has more left to deal with now that he's in a prison cell."
"So you've thought it over? You feel... better that you didn't try to kill him?"
"Are you kidding? If I had killed him, it'd be me behind bars right now. Now let me take the ticket and let me get back to sleeping in my bed."
"I want you to clean up the stench you left in my car before you do that, Pete. You can sleep afterwards," said Ben.
"I knew you wouldn't let me forget about that," Peter said, "you're always going to be my grandfather clock, Ben."
"Oh, an old man joke, Pete?"
"Don't call me Pete, Ben. That's what Eddie Brock calls me, and I hate being called Pete."
"Eddie Brock... it's so strange that he turned into a cop, and my nephew is the one that gets put behind bars for a night."
"He's only a cop because his dad was a cop, too. Are you gonna be buddy-buddy with him like you are with that Watson chick?"
"You be careful about what you say about Mary-Jane Watson, Peter, you just might be more involved with her in the future."
"Yeah right, you have a better chance with her than I do, Ben."
"Well if you want some pointers, son, she likes the dark and mysterious ones."
"Whatever, Uncle Ben. The only mystery here is what kind of government experiments she went through to have a body like that and not have to wear a back brace."
Ben laughed at Peter's joke. He knew that for now whatever inner demon Peter possesses had been quelled for the time being.
"Well c'mon, you have chores to do."
"Yeah, sure, Uncle Ben."
As Ben walked out of Peter's room, Peter flipped over his pillow and took the picture of his mother and placed it back into his lockbox. He thought to himself that Vaught was very lucky that he only has to deal with life in prison and nothing else. There was a short moment in Peter's mind where he thought of the way that Mary-Jane Watson had crossed her legs in her chair at her desk, and something about it made the hair on his neck stand up.
He quickly erased the thought out of his head. Mary-Jane was in a very secretive relationship with Eddie Brock, and he hated Eddie Brock, which by extension means that he hated her, too.
The day of the Genetics Fair came, and Uncle Ben dropped Peter off at the Science Museum.
"I'll be at home fixing the furnace, so you should call the house phone and not my cell, Peter."
"OK, Uncle Ben, see you soon!"
"Don't enjoy yourself too much, Peter."
"Oh, don't worry Ben, I'll contain myself as best as I can."
"You had better, because I invited Mary-Jane to come out here, too."
Ben rolled up his window smirking at Peter as he drove off.
"...sonofabitch..."
Peter took his camera out of his bag and put it over his face immediately after handing his ticket in to the receptionist as he walked into the Genetics Fair. He did his best to maintain anonymity. It was difficult for him, though. This particular convention actually contained many different fields of use for genetics. Peter felt like it was more of a job fair than it was a science festival.
Every station he stopped by had showed the prevalent theme in the city of Manhattan: crime. Essentially, each station showed how genetic science was used to solve crimes, and how there was an increasing demand for people interested in this field.
"Kind of a good way to recruit new talent, don't you think?" Mary-Jane got the jump on Peter and he nearly dropped his camera.
"Jesus, don't you have paperwork to fill out somewhere?"
She scoffed. "Peter! In all the years that I've spent babysitting you, I have never heard you say anything so rude!"
"Well don't pretend that you're here on business, MJ. Ben told me that you were here because he invited you. I thought that you two didn't like doing favors for each other?"
"How about this? I called in on one. I told Ben to invite me as a favor. I told him that I wanted to go so that I could be your date."
"Bullshit. You're with Eddie Brock and I know it, so don't play that game with me."
Another scoff. "I am SO not with Eddie Brock! He is my subordinate, and I can't be in a relationship with someone that I work with!"
"So when he came over to my place when I was younger, he just tried to kiss you a lot because he was bored?"
"Oh, Peter, you were such a naive little brat. What happened between me and Eddie now means about as much as the little fling that Flash Thompson had with me back in high school. Are you gonna tell me that you hated him, too?"
"...Flash Thompson. There's a name I was happy to have forgotten about when you guys all graduated. What does he do now, janitorial stuff?"
"Actually, he went off to Law School. What are you doing with your life?"
"Touche, Watson."
"C'mon, I have something I want to show you, Peter. I don't want you to be the most horrible date I've had."
"Whatever, let's go."
Peter and Mary-Jane approached one small lab-station that was completely unexpected by any stretch of Peter's imagination. It was so out of left-field for Peter that he got nervous and contemplated dashing out of the building and leaving his date behind.
"Here we have a collection of genetically altered specimens that have been spliced from various different species to form what you could call a "Super Spider" that is a culmination of all of its parent spider's unique traits combined into one," the tour guide reported to everyone that gathered around the station.
Peter was practically squirming to the back of the group because spiders made him sick to his stomach. Mary-Jane, however, pushed them both closer to the front of the line. This made Peter more and more uncomfortable with each step.
"Seriously, Peter, they're just spiders," she complained.
"Yeah, well, you can play around with the little hybrid-monsters. I need to get something to drink, or maybe buy an oxygen tank."
"You're such a coward, Peter."
Peter managed to pull himself out of the crowd and rushed to the nearest bathroom. He went to the nearest toilet and vomited as his nerves overcame him. He really did hate spiders.
"As you can see, these spiders have inherited the abilities of each one of their parents. From precognitive reflexes to advanced predator camouflaging. Some of them can even move so quickly that they do not even need to trap their prey with a web to capture them."
"That's amazing," Mary-Jane spoke out loud to herself. She noticed that one particular spider was indeed camouflaged into the corner of its cage. As she leaned in closer, she noticed that it made itself look like a husk, almost as if it had shed its skin or molted.
"Ma'am, could you please step away from the cages please? Those spiders are quite venomous, and they will bite if they are agitated."
"Oh! Sorry!" Mary-Jane suddenly became nervous and turned around away from the cages.
What she didn't notice is that the spider was camouflaged much better than she had noticed. The spider only appeared to be on the inside of its cage, and without being noticed, it had lept across from the outside of its cage and attached itself to her purse, almost immediately blending in with its new surroundings.
"Ugh, where the hell is he?"
Peter finally left the bathroom after cleaning up. He needed something to fill his now empty stomach, and luck would have it that his date, whom he was trying to avoid, was waiting in line at the concession stand.
"Damnit," Peter whispered to himself. "Well, I can't just duck out of here, otherwise Ben will never let me hear the end of it."
Peter looked over again as Mary-Jane bent over to look at the menu that might as well have been inappropriately placed too low beneath the counter for even the shortest of people.
"Would anybody pass up this opportunity?" Peter said. He raised his camera back over his face and zoomed all the way in. "God, I'm such a bastard." After taking a couple photos, he put his camera away and approached Mary-Jane.
"Did you get what you were looking for, Tiger?"
"...oh shi-"
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're a stalker, Peter."
Peter might as well have been sweating bullets. She's actually a better cop than he thought.
"So what makes you so squeamish about spiders?"
"Buh... everything. Something about the ones that have prickly hairs and miniature fangs that drive me up the wall. And have you ever seen a spider's thorax? Some of them might as well be tiny sacks of acid for all that we know. There's actually entire species of spiders that we still haven't even identified yet, and who knows what kind of danger they could be if they were moved into this kind of environment!"
"Gee, Peter, some of them might die of all the excitement of being in Manhattan. And here you are, freaking out as if they're invading the country."
"Not invading, being bred in- manufactured, if you will. You saw the exhibit; those things are being created as super predators... completely against nature!"
"Hey now, Peter. Remember, you're on a date, not a class lecture. Let's talk about other things, shall we?"
She placed her hand on top of his, and Peter only got more worked up. As he stared completely bewildered at her hand, Mary-Jane was now leaning over the table at him."
"You know, I always liked when you got all crazy over your science-geek stuff. And with this new bad-boy attitude you've got going on, I think we could get something really good started here."
"I uh... well," Peter was even more nervous now. She was getting closer to him than he was comfortable with.
"How about we make this moment something to remember," she was blushing the same way that she did when she was talking to Uncle Ben. As she got closer, she even bit her bottom lip the same way. Peter wasn't feeling his nerves anymore. Now it was simply pure adrenaline.
He didn't even notice the sudden prick on his right hand that was starting to overwhelm any other feeling that he was having. He was actually getting very dizzy, and his arm went numb before he started to black out.
"Peter? What's goin-" is all that he heard before he fell out of his chair.
Peter Parker had collapsed just seconds before kissing Mary-Jane Watson. Although he was completely unaware of it, his unconscious body landed directly onto the very thing that pricked his right hand. A small, genetically-altered spider that's crushed corpse blended in with the carpeted flooring as Peter was picked up by another fairgoer to be brought to the bathroom.
His last thoughts before slipping entirely into unconscious was: "Wow, fate is a bitch."
