Arachnid: New Spiderman

[3rd POV]

An office in downtown New York.

"What the hell happened!" 

At that moment, the Big Boss of New York didn't have to worry about his reputation and could openly scold his subordinates.

"It was just awful, boss. At first, we thought we'd quickly handle that freak, and it seemed like we did."

"Then how the hell did you let half of your team of highly skilled mercenaries get wiped out?!"

"He's not human, boss. He's strong, fast, and agile. But the real hell started when we had already worn him down."

Montana's voice stuttered, and to his right, the bandaged Bull flinched. 

"It seemed like we were about to complete the deal, but it was like he suddenly had an energy."

Montana stroked his bandaged arm.

"I was the first he targeted. He was unnaturally fast and agile. Look at Bull, he's completely bandaged up. Fancy Dan is still in the ICU with fifty fractures. We don't know if he'll ever make a full recovery."

"But still, this Spider, he's dead?"

"In the end, they took him down. The remaining mercenaries surrounded him. Not even God Himself could have gotten out of that gunfire. I personally saw several bullets hit him!"

"Then where's the body, Montana?"

Montana hesitated.

"I don't care about the mercenaries, but the guys from my squad got hurt. As the leader, I demand double the payment for the job done."

Suddenly, Tombstone leaped to his feet, stretched out his hand, and yanked him across the table, lifting him off the ground by his throat.

Bull, who instinctively tried to rush to help, found himself in the crosshairs of two guards stationed at the back of the room.

"Everything you demand, Montana, means nothing to me. The way I see it, you lost Spider-Man. You can claim he's dead all you want, but until you and your crew provide proof, you'll get nothing."

He released Montana, who collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

"It seems you gave him a good beating. I'll give your crew time to recover, but I strongly advise you not to fail me again. Dismissed."

The remaining members of the mercenary left in silence.

...

[Peter's POV]

Peter Parker's basement.

I pulled out a first-aid kit he had prepared a month ago and tried to stitch up the torn skin.

I guess I'll have to take a first aid course. I lean against the wall and look at my hands. 

The gloves are shredded, and everything is covered in blood.

I draw my knees up, pressing my face against them. 

That guy is dead. 

I used him as a living shield, and they shot him with bullets because of me.

I know I'm no angel, and I've hurt plenty of those guys, but I've never killed anyone.

That mercenary accepted the contract knowing full well his sole purpose was to kill me. 

Additionally, I didn't pull the trigger… But his blood is still on my hands.

I suddenly jerk upright, hissing from the sharp pain tugging at my ankle.

If Aunt May or Uncle Ben see me like this, I can't even imagine what'll happen. I hope these treated wounds heal enough overnight so they don't catch me in this state.

With a sigh, I strip off the badly damaged suit.

Luckily, I still have spare materials left from the first time I stocked up. 

I barely manage to pull on a tank top before collapsing onto the basement couch, completely spent.

...

What?

I look around, but before I can observe, I'm forced to dodge a stream of fire.

After leaping onto a room wall, I notice I'm still in my Spider-Man suit.

Before I can figure out what's happening, my Spider-Sense rings sharply again, forcing me to dodge once more. 

This time, something is thrown at me… a stick?

"Surrender, Spider-Man. This time, you won't escape," 

A figure steps forward from the shadows, catching the stick as it ricochets back. 

Daredevil.

"WHAT?!"

"That's right, Webhead. This time, we'll lock you in the RAFT so deep, you'll never break out again,"

The one shooting fireballs was Human Torch.

"Guys, I don't know what's happening, but someone's messing with you. I'm a good guy," 

I said, raising my hands and slowly approaching the duo, "Let's just talk this out."

"No, you're a criminal and a murderer!" 

Daredevil shouted before launching a kick that sent me flying.

I smash against a mirror, breaking it with my body. I saw myself in the fragments and saw I was wearing the Superior Spider-Man suit with black lenses.

YOU'RE A MURDERER!

NO!

I jump up off the couch.

"It's a dream… just a nightmare," 

I muttered with my voice shaky.

Trying to shake off the drowsiness, my gaze fell on the damaged suit, lying there like a reminder.

Over the next few hours, I quickly patched the suit up, though there was still a lot of work left to do.

To help boost my recovery, I decide to squeeze in the remaining three hours of sleep.

Thankfully, there are no nightmares. When I wake up, I feel a lot better.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost morning.

After getting up and crawling into my room, I decide to sleep for at least another hour.

Suddenly, I was awakened by a sharp knock on the door.

"Peter, you're going to be late for school!" 

Aunt May's worried voice called through the door. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Aunt May, I just overslept!" 

I shouted, springing out of bed and scrambling to get ready.

I rush down the stairs, barely pausing to call over my shoulder, "I'm in a hurry, no breakfast today! Love you!"

I dash out the door, tugging my sneakers on as I go. I hopped on the bus as it was about to leave.

"Thanks for waiting, Lewis." 

I said to the driver, who shot me a disapproving glare.

"Hey, Pete, over here!"

I spot Harry, Gwen, and Miles waving me over. 

The whole gang's here.

It's been six months, and I'm still not used to how different things are on the bus. 

I'm no longer being tried to trip or sit down by other people. Instead, people smile at me, and some girls, even cheerleaders, ask me to sit with them.

"Hey, guys," 

I said as I approached my friends.

"Whoa, Pete, are you okay? You look a little rough,"

 Gwen asked, her tone full of concern.

"I've been better, Gwendy, but don't worry—I'm tougher than I look," 

"You know, if you're not feeling well, don't play the hero. Just stay home and rest up,"

Miles chimed in.

"Got it." 

I said, cutting the topic short.

"Uh, anyway, guys, how about we hang out at my place tomorrow?"

Harry suggested casually.

"I don't mind, I've always wanted to visit the penthouse of a residential tower in New York.

"Me too," 

Gwen nodded. 

"Peter?"

"If I don't have to help out at home, I'm fine with it," 

I said, but running into Norman Osborn makes my stomach churn. 

"Awesome." 

Harry said, clearly pleased.

...

The day unfolded as usual: classes, hanging out with the gang, saying goodbyes, and walking home.

Once I got home, I headed straight for the kitchen to grab something to eat. 

The family was all at work, which was actually a relief.

After a quick snack, I headed to the lab.

Going down to the basement, I cursed myself again for being so careless.

 The suit and the equipment were all still right where I left them.

I started to clean up, but my gaze caught the camera. I picked it up and started going through the pictures. 

The photos are generally normal. The auto-zoom function was unexpectedly useful even though it was a little random.

I could sell them to Jameson.

Suddenly, my finger froze when I saw myself using someone to shield myself.

No. 

I'm not going to get all down about this. I would have if he hadn't died. He was a mercenary who wanted to kill me, and I paid for my life with his.

The problem is that I dove into New York's criminal underworld too soon. 

Although my Spider-Sense had warned me about the danger, I thought I could handle it.

From now on, I'll be more cautious and take the threat level more seriously.

With a steady hand, I delete the photo of the dead mercenary.

To be continued...