Manhattan – Two Weeks After Jake's Collapse
My name's Peter Benjamin Parker.
And about a month ago, I got bit by a spider.
Genetically altered? Irradiated? Divine punishment for never tipping Flash at Excelsior? No clue. All I know is, I went from stressing about grades to suddenly starring in my own knockoff superhero origin story.
Except mine doesn't come with a guidebook. Or a theme song.
First Villain Fight, Worst Villain Fight
"SPIDER!"
The roar hit me before the Mini Cooper did. My instincts screamed, my muscles moved, and I twisted mid-air just in time to avoid becoming roadkill. The car smashed into the wall behind me.
Standing in the wreckage was… well, I don't know what to call him. Seven feet tall, dark green scales gleaming, claws carving the street like butter. A nightmare in lizard skin.
Not human. Not animal. Something in-between.
"Great," I muttered, heart hammering. "Of course the radioactive bug bite comes with superpowered pest control duty."
Improvised Heroics
My "suit" wasn't helping my confidence. Blue short-sleeved hoodie, red cardigan, track pants, sneakers. Cosplay chic.
And it didn't survive the first swipe. Three claw marks shredded from my shoulder to my hip, fabric peeling away. Heat seared my chest—blood blooming.
Instinct kicked in. I slapped my palm to the wound—and something shot out. Sticky strands fizzled, static-charged, sealing the gash.
I blinked. "Did I just…?"
The creature lunged again, and my brain buzzed with warning. A half-second of perfect clarity. My body knew where he'd strike before I did. Reflexes sharper than human.
I dodged. Countered. Landed a desperate kick to his snout. It staggered him, but didn't stop him.
With a hiss, he retreated, tail lashing, vanishing into a nearby sewer grate.
I stood there panting, clutching my makeshift wound-web. "Sewer lair? Really? Couldn't pick, like, an abandoned warehouse? Maybe a cave with Wi-Fi?"
Reflection
By the time I made it home, the wound had already half-healed. Web residue flaked off in crackling strands. My skin tingled, new cells knitting faster than should be possible.
Add healing factor to the list.
I stuffed the ruined hoodie into my rooftop stash (The Burrow™), showered, and stared at myself in the mirror. Bruises fading. Eyes brighter. Hair messier. Everything screaming different.
I whispered to my reflection: "Jake, wherever you are… I hope your powers make more sense than mine."
Oscorp
Next morning, Oscorp Labs buzzed like usual. White coats, humming tech, corporate smiles.
I spotted Anya down the hall. She waved, eyebrows raising. "You look like hell."
"Study session," I lied.
The truth sat heavy in my chest: there was something wrong here. Experiments on regeneration. Cross-species genetics. Things that smelled too much like the monster I'd fought last night.
But I didn't have proof. Just questions.
And in Jakes drawer at home, that spider twitched again. Watching. Waiting.
Deadpool's Unauthorized Commentary™
"So Pete's first villain? A sewer-dwelling lizard Hulk. Not bad for a starter boss fight.""Also, can we get merch for 'Burrow™'? Because every hero needs a branded laundry hole.""Oh, and note to Peter: when your wounds heal in less time than a Netflix binge, maybe don't ignore it. Just saying."