ALL THINGS MARVEL RELATED ARE THE PROPERTY OF MARVEL COMICS. MARVEL: GENESIS IS JUST A RE-IMAGINING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE USING THEIR CHARACTERS AND IS WIRTTEN BY FAN-FICTION WRITERS ONLY WHO CLAIM NO OWNERSHIP OF ANY CHARACTER THAT THEY HAVE NOT CREATED.
Peter stormed through the door and headed for the stairs. Uncle Ben and Aunt May cut him off at the bottom and Peter attempted to swerve round them but was grabbed by the collar. “Hey! What gives?” He cried out.
“We just got a call from the school principal. Fighting Peter? Really?” Aunt May had a disappointed look as she wagged her finger in front of her. “And god knows what kind of injuries that Thompson boy has picke--”
“May, you said you’d let me handle it.” Uncle Ben put his hands on her shoulders. “Now, go sit down while me and Peter have a talk.” She sighed and went back to the living room. “Peter, son. Your Aunt May probably doesn’t know this but I was listening on the other line. That coach sounded too worried about his ball game. Your aunt is just worried that you’ll get a bad name at school--”
“I already have a bad name” Peter mumbled.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” A smile grew on Uncle Ben’s face.
“Nerd.” He replied looking down at the floor.
“That’s probably one you want kid. C’mon follow me, I have something to show you.” He turned around and headed to the kitchen. Peter followed him quickly out to the backyard. They stopped in front of Ben’s work shed.
“What’s in here? You haven’t allowed me in, ever.” Uncle Ben opened the door and pushed it open just enough so the two could get through without anyone looking in.
“This place used to be your dad’s holiday home. He gave it to us as a wedding present, I discovered this the very next day. It’s nothing bad and I promised never to get rid of it. He wanted to show it to you when you were older.”
“The work shed?” Uncle Ben turned round to look at him.
“Oh it’s much more than that.” He pushed one of the small cutting tables aside and a metal door appeared on the floor. Uncle Ben struggled pulling it open and finally , after a large pull, the door opened. A staircase was now in view and Uncle Ben headed down them. Peter’s eyes widened and he excitedly bounced down the steps. “Welcome Peter,” said Ben as he flicked a light switch on, “to your father’s lab.” The lab stretched under the whole house and was filled with filing cabinets, desks and pictures of Peter as a baby and his mother. There was also a brand new barcalounger and twin monitor computer which obviously Uncle Ben had set up since they didn’t match with anything else. “Now Peter, this is yours. But I want no experiments that will put you in danger, I mean it. I won’t ever bother you down here and your aunt knows nothing about his place. It’s your little get-away ok?” Peter ran straight to uncle Ben with tears flowing down his eyes and hugged him lightly. “Whoa there Pete, easy on the grip.” Peter laughed a little to himself as Ben hugged him back, a great smile on his face. “Time for dinner now buddy. I’ll give you a couple of minutes down here, come back up when you’re ready.” He went back up the stairs.
DING! DING! Peter threw his arm out of the bed and fumbled for the alarm clock, finally making contact he pressed the snooze button. “C’mon kiddo, get out of bed!” Uncle Ben shouted from downstairs. “I’ll drive you today!”
“Nah, it’s okay Uncle Ben.” Peter smiled, “I think I can walk today.” He pulled his spider-man jersey over his head. ‘Man, I really need to get a better costume’ he thought to himself as he stuffed the red mask into his jacket pocket and headed out the room.
As soon as he was a safe distance from his home, Peter pulled his mask out of his pocket and pulled it over his head. He crawled up a nearby house and posed on the edge. Now what? he asked himself. There were only two ways he could go from here, back down or try to jump his way rooftop to rooftop. Utterly disappointed he dropped down to the ground and yanked his mask off, ‘stupid spider powers’ he muttered under his breath.
“Well, it’s nice you show up at some point during the lesson Mr. Parker. Take your seat and we’ll make up the time after school.” Ms. Fischer turned back to the board.
“Erm…excuse me,” a tall brown haired woman appeared at the door dressed in a grey suit. “I’m looking for a…Parker, Peter. He’s due for a futures interview.”
“And seconds after he arrives, the great Houdini must disappear again, very well. Off you trot now Peter.”
“Thanks Ms. Fischer.” Peter followed the woman out of the classroom and into a small office.
“Stay here Parker, I’ll be back in a minute.” As she left, Peter’s spider-sense started blaring, he’d realise why if he turned around.
“Parker.” Peter slowly turned around, a large man with a ginger moustache, bowler hat and piercing eyes greeted him. Peter recognised him from pictures that Felicia had. Timothy Dugan, leader of H.A.M.M.E.R. A lump had formed in Peter’s throat and he tried to swallow it as he slowly nodded. “So…yesterday I spent a rare night at home for dinner. Felicia couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m aware you know who I am, you’re aware that nobody can stop me from anything. Nod if you understand me.” Peter nodded. “Good, then I assume you know what I want you to do?”
“S-S-Stay away from Felicia sir.” Dugan laughed.
“Not that at all, I want you to take her out. She hasn’t looked this happy in a while, but you will not try anything. You will not do anything and you will wait for her to leave you. You harm her in any way and I will do things that are illegal in countries across the world. Get back to class, grab a towel before you go.”
“A-A towel? Why?”
“To wipe the sweat off your face. “Dugan chuckled, “and they say you’re a model student.”
Peter left the room quickly and ran down the hall. As soon as he was out of the building, he was sick in one of the bushes outside the main door. He used the sleeve of his grey hoodie to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His breathing was heavy and he took long and hard breaths to try to regulate it again. He gasped for air and fumbled around in his pocket, playing with the red mask. “Peter!” cried out a voice from behind him. Pete turned round to look at the familiar face of Felicia Dugan, before she would only fill with hope and happiness, now he just felt worse. “You poor thing! Are you alright?” She asked as she placed a hand on Pete’s shoulder, he cringed but she thought nothing of it. He accepted her help in sitting down. His eyes now had a small tint of yellow, a colour Felicia noticed as he looked up at her. “Oh my god. C’mon, Petey. We’re getting you home.”
“But schoo--” Peter protested.
“To hell with school.” Felicia looked genuinely concerned for his well-being. She held out her hand, offering to help him up. He took the offer and slowly climbed to his feet. She hugged him as he stood up, Peter glanced upwards as she did so and saw her father in one of the windows. He closed his eyes in fear as Dugan clenched a fist.
Peter had remained indoors for the rest of the day but midnight had long since past and he was feeling much better. He climbed into his costume and left through the window, running along the rooftops until he was near-deafened by a scream. He looked over to the bank on is right and sure-enough there was a cause for the screaming. A man in pure white with black spots all over his body was attempting an assassination in broad daylight. Without thinking, Peter jumped over and kicked him the strangely covered man in the nose, breaking it. The villain was obviously caught off-guard and fired two rounds from a pistol he seemed to produce from nowhere. Time slowed down for Peter and the yellow tint appeared in his eyes again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes darted between the two bullets heading his way. Instinctively, Peter ducked and both of the bullets flew over him, he turned round, not in-control of his actions and put both hands up, a stream of webbing flew from both arms encasing the bullets. Time returned to its normal speed and Peter stared at his arms in shock. “How--” The spot looked at him in disbelief for a second but then reordered his priorities and threw a punch towards Peter, Peter ducked again slamming his knee into the Spot’s crotch. The supervillain groaned and Peter threw a punch which connected to his jaw. His strength was amplified, he could slow down time and shoot organic webbing, his spider-sense also seemed to be more accurate. Could he be getting more powerful with each minute or did something trigger these abilities. The last time he felt like this, was after his meeting with Dugan but he thought it was just a rush of adrenaline. Fear! Shouted Peter in his brain. His powers were triggered by fear, allowing him a greater chance at survival. The only problem now, was that he was no longer afraid. His extra strength was gone, along with his concentration. Spot landed a hard right fist on Peter’s chest and the force of the blow knocked him to the floor. Peter forced the events that had happened earlier through his mind, his brain was unwilling to co-operate preferring to keep it buried underneath everything it could find. Eventually, with a black eye and a nose-bleed, he had managed to force it to the front of his mind. He knew the feel of fear again and his extra abilities returned. Spot was un-prepared for this and Peter landed a perfect uppercut with so much force that it knocked him clean out. By now, a small crowd had gathered around him and were cheering and clapping. Peter knew that his extra abilities wouldn’t last much longer and spun a web that attached to one of the surrounding buildings. He managed to get 3 blocks away before his web spinners retracted and he fell towards the floor.
It hadn’t taken him long to get home, on the way he had planned to discover more about his powers but was too tired and collapsed into his bed. The morning was out, always nice to have sun on a Saturday. He had managed to recover a piece of his webbing “thread.” He had done all sorts of chemical tests on it, trying to use it to create an artificial version he could mass produce and use to imitate webs. So far, he had found very little and in need of inspiration turned to his father’s journals. He accidentally dropped it on the floor and it opened, too lazy to flip to the front, Peter began reading on the page it had fallen on. What he read shocked him, his father had apparently tried to do the exact same thing.
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