How do you talk about the day you died? Do you start with How the day was going beforehand? Or maybe some people would prefer to skip it entirely. Then again, most people who been six feet under usually aren't capable of doing so. Pity, guess I'll have to do it my way then.

From the bit and pieces I remember about my previous life I was never what you'd call a particularly brave kid, if fact most would've told you quite the opposite. Me personally? I would've told you I had a healthy fight or flight response, which mostly leaned towards flight. What can I say? When the bullies have back-up you have two choices, learn to kick their asses better than they can kick yours or learn to be much, much, faster than them. Safe to say that I was an expert in the latter.

But I was raised in a good home with a lot or reading material, from the age of three my moral compass was shaped by comic books and whoever the current protagonist was in the book I got my mitts sure, my parents were around, but more often than not I'd be getting lesson in morals from Captain America rather than my father.

Maybe that's where I developed my strong sense of right and wrong. Whenever I saw other people in trouble I couldn't help but go out of my way a little to make their day better. Bullies got you down? I'll sit there and let you vent. Today in particular give you a spectacularly crappy hand. I'll help you blow off some steam . Basically, if you needed a shoulder to cry on or a vent to scream at, I was your guy.

I'd even got into a few fights for some people. What? You thought just because I'd prefer to run means I couldn't handle myself? Rude, I'll have you know I've got six years of kickboxing and a few years of various dabblings in assorted martial arts. I'd just prefer not to end every day with a busted lip or bruised knuckles.

But I suppose that's what got me into this situation in the first place. I was walking home one night, since my truck had finally decided to say enough was enough and give up on me, when I heard someone calling out for help and the sounds of a scuffle. I followed the noise to a back alley, two guys were getting handsy with one of they prettier teachers from my old high school and had covered her mouth to stop her from screaming. Me, being the noble idiot I am, saw fit to rush in and save the day. I rushed the guy closest to me and let fly a controlled haymaker to his chin, he didn't even have time to react before my fist met with his jaw. His head snapped to the left and he fell in a crumpled heap. I stepped over him and wrenched the other thug off, my teacher and he just raised his hands in the air, grinning at me.

"Hey," he said. "When you see tail like that you just have to go for it, you know? Looks like tonight wasn't my night. I'll just pick up my friend and go okay? No need to get violent. You and they bird can go."

I should've been more cautious, more suspicious that he'd let things go that easily. I should have been better. But I wasn't. I was just relieved that I didn't have to get in a serious fight, thankful that I'd managed to do something good for someone else, to caught up in my own self-righteousness I guess. So I never saw him pull the gun, I never heard him chamber the round, all I heard was two rounds blast through the night sky, and then I never saw anything in my old world again.

So, where am I writing this from now, I hear you ask? Well it's quite simple. I'm writing this in an entirely new world. A world where mortal men stand up to gods in suits of metal, where tortured souls face the literal monsters they lock inside themselves, where good men fight for the common man just because it's the right thing to do. A world filled with marvelous things.

But that's getting ahead of myself, as I am often tend to do. For now, this story began with death, and begins with rebirth. Just… probably not in the way you're expecting.

o-0-o

My mind woke from unconsciousness slowly, like my body was fighting staying in the cold darkness I'd been immersed in for a long time. I knew it'd been a long time, but I couldn't tell you much more than that. The abyss wanted it's secrets to stay secret it seemed.

My body felt like lead, and noise seemed to be muted, even lifting my eyelids open was a challenge I almost wasn't up to facing. It was like my muscles had forgotten how to be used, or hadn't been used at all. After a brief fight with my body I finally managed to raise my eyelids enough to peak through the slits.

I was floating, encased in a tank filled with bright orange liquid, which would explain why everything I heard seemed to be distorted. An oxygen mask was firmly secured over my mouth and nose, so breathing wasn't an issue. Through the liquid I could make out the blurry forms of machines and medical equipment, flashing and whirring, their purposes unknown. I seemed to be in some sort of lab, but I couldn't make heads or tails as to why.

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to be back in the land of the living, but I definitely wasn't important enough for something like this, and I know my parents, bless their souls, couldn't have afforded whatever space-age science had been used to save me.

I didn't have time to contemplate it, however, as my ponderings were interrupted by the mutterings of someone inside the lab. I couldn't make out what they were saying, nor could I see them from my current position, but It was reassuring to know that there was at least someone here with me, instead of being all alone trying to process all of this.

I tried to signal them, try to let them know that I was awake in here, but I couldn't My body simply wasn't responding the way I expected it to. So instead of the wave I was going for, all I managed was to twitch my fingers slightly. It was enough apparently, as whoever was behind me made a noise of surprise and then seemed to move around behind my tank with renewed vigor.

Before long I heard the distinct sound of something being depressurised on the other side of the glass. Suddenly the mask supplying me oxygen was ripped from my face and I got a lungful of the orange fluid. I was just about ready to panic when the front of my tank opened with another hiss, and I went careening towards the floor.

Luckily, it seems that the body's sense of self preservation kicked my unruly muscles into gear enough for me to swing my arms high enough to protect my head and I landed with a ungraceful thud. The floor, which I was getting to know on a more personal level than I'd normally prefer, was filled holes to let the orange crap now coating my lungs down through the floor.

I hacked up whatever it was and took my first real deep breath of air and felt my senses kick into overdrive. It was like my brain took in what all my senses were telling me was there and gave me another level of awareness above that of a normal human being. I couldn't see where everything was, but in a way I could feel it.

"Vital signs looking… Nominal." I heard a low voice mutter, and, figuring this must have been the doctor who let me out of the tube I turned to give him my thanks and acknowledgement only to freeze as my mind tried to comprehend what it was seeing.

The creature, for it could not be a man to me, was covered head to toe in green fur, bat-like ears sprouting from the sides of it's skull. It looked at me with a mad gleam in its eye and giggled like a kid on Christmas day.

"Zero percent!" It cackled madly, either ignoring or not noticing my look of confusion as it went on fiddling with his machines, "Clone degradation at zero percent! I thought, what with the slight altering I did to this one's genetic structure that it's be like all the rest, but zero percent! And a nearly perfect clone of the original at that! This day couldn't possibly be better for me!"

Clone? Original? I knew what those words meant, with my love of science-fiction and comics there was almost no chance for me to have not understand them. But I couldn't figure out what that had to do with myself and I wasn't inclined to ask the clearly insane… thing hovering over me. Nor was I able to, as the muscles in my lower face hadn't responded to my actions as of yet.

The creep refocused on his work after getting his laughter under control and went back to mumbling, like a switch had been flipped in it's brain, and moved close enough for me to hear it this time. "The eyes are a different color, blue to the originals brown, and the hair is a bit darker, but at a glance, nay even a hard look it could be the originals kin! The specimen itself seems younger than the original, best estimation by four or five years if forced to speculate, but it will suit my purposes well enough."

As I was trying to process those words the figure walked over to one of his strange machines and pulled out a long syringe from one of it's many containers. The needle was at least twelve inches long, and filled with a strange, clear, viscous liquid.

I tried to move any of my muscles as the thing turned its back on me, to move an arm, a leg, anything other than my eyes, but I couldn't manage more than a twitch from the prospective appendages, I was regaining control but much, much too slowly.

The creature returned to it's giggling as it approached me. "I'd say this was going to hurt, but your not much more than a sack of meat at this stage, so there's really no… point." It said, waving the syringe in my face. If I wasn't so terrified I definitely would've rolled my eyes, appreciative of multiple forms of humor I may be but puns were not one of them.

The creature felt around for what I assumed was a vein on my neck, and it was like that heightened awareness kicked into overdrive to send a blaring warning bell into my skull, I didn't know what was in that syringe but my body was screaming bad news! In the worst way. I tried again, struggling against myself, and slowly felt my arm start to rise. I didn't exactly have a plan, but I had to stop that syringe!

But it was not to be, the creature found the particular vein he was searching for and plunged the syringe in deep, forcing the liquid into my bloodstream. My arm flopped back to the ground as I felt, whatever it just pumped into my start to crawl through my body, starting to circulate towards my brain and heart.

"When you wake up," the thing giggled, "You'll be a whole new you! Right now it's setting up some nice new memories for you." The creature looked down at the syringe and frowned, and began muttering to itself again, the switch flipped once more. "My concoction is a secret only I'm aware of, but I've only used it on blank slates," The thing sighed to itself, "I don't know what it'd do to someone with memories already inside their head." The creature shook itself and went back to cackling happily. "Oh well!" It said jovially, tossing the syringe over its shoulder, " An experiment for another day, perhaps!"

It nimbly leaped over me, grabbing me by the shoulders and started to drag me away humming to itself happily. My vision began to fade in and out, in and out as the substance crawled further into my brain. Unbeknownst to the creature silent tears fell down my face as everything I was slowly began to fade away…

o-0-o

Memories, in and out, flashes of time gone past.

Walking through Queens and New York, slipping through alleyways and dodging through crowds like only a New Yorker can.

I never lived in New York, I lived in Seattle! I tried to remind myself, trying to keep the memories of old and new seperated. I just had to hang on, I just had to push through.

My fifth birthday party with Aunt May and Uncle Ben where they gave me my own little lab in the basement.

I… I didn't have a lab, did I? No, I couldn't have, my parents couldn't have afforded something like that, no matter how basic. In fact, didn't I flunk chemistry? Focus, have to-

Bullies, they seemed to follow me everywhere I went. School, in town, online. There wasn't an escape.

Right, I can't believe how many people will never get tired of giving someone a swirly - Wait, that's not-

Breezing through high school, I could start college, but Uncle Ben tells me that I need to develop people skills if I ever want to function in the real world.

I was so mad at him after that conversation…

The spider bite.

Uncle Ben…

With Great power…

Must also come great Responsibility.

o-0-o

I don't know how long I stayed that way, it could've been days, weeks even, it seemed endless. When the world came back into focus it didn't matter at that point anyway, my thoughts were ablaze, endlessly fighting over what I knew and didn't know. I could tell you what some math equations did from memory, but I couldn't tell you where I learned them from. I could recommend a few book series that I'm not even sure existed.

I couldn't remember my name, I couldn't remember my parents faces, hell I couldn't tell you what my favourite color was. I knew that I'd managed to save something of myself, otherwise I wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong. The drug, it seemed, attacked the core memories first, replacing them with new ones. The only thing that kept me from believing them was the memory of my death, and waking up in this new, messed up world.

I pushed my fractured state of mind aside for now, doesn't matter if I'm crazy if I end up dead after all, to observe my new surroundings. The lab had been replaced with an old, rundown, warehouse, and I'd been strapped to a table. Metal constraints half an inch thick covered each of my limbs, with one giant piece over my chest.

"Ah!" my captor said, my head whipping around to see him. "You're awake! Pity, I thought for sure I'd seen you done away with once and for all, insect!" The Jackal my mind supplied me, right The Jackal. He, for I now knew him to be a man under that suit, shook his fist in an exaggerated manner from across the building. "If you ever what to see your precious Gwen alive ever again I suggest you make your way towards Shea stadium at midnight tonight! Don't follow me, or else Ms. Stacy will meet with yet another tragic end! Better not be late bug!" He screeched at me madly.

Gwen? The name brought with it a face, a starry eyed blonde with the most amazing smile I'd ever seen. My heart ached at the thought of her but I couldn't figure out why. The Jackal cackled again at my expression and ran the building, leaving me all alone. I was confused at the change, at why he'd leave me alone before I realized. He thinks that I was the other guy, the… original. He hadn't anticipated someone else already occupying this space.

He seemed pretty confident that I could break free from the bonds holding me, yeah good luck with that me, we'd have to be incredibly, freakishly strong to- my hand moved up to grab onto a pipe to pull me up from the ledge, only for it to crumple like paper in my hands…. Oh.

I strained against the shackles securing my wrists and sure enough they flew off as if they'd been made of aluminum. The bar across my chest needing only a little more effort to tear it from its place.

After getting rid of the rest of the restraints, I just sat there for a moment, waiting for The Jackal to come back in and laugh, to say it had all been a test and resume his ungodly experiments on me. But after a few minutes I began to believe that he was truly gone, and I let myself relax, crumpling into a ball and shedding a few tears at what I'd just gone through and lost.

I stayed that way for awhile, letting myself grieve over my forgotten life, before finally putting myself together enough to start noticing things that I'd missed before, particularly things concerning myself. I'd been put into clothes, if you can call them that of red and blue spandex, with black webbing accentuating the red portions of the suit. What really caught my attention, however, was the small spider symbol in the middle of my chest. My mind flickered through seemingly random memories, long nights of sewing the costume, healing it from the various wounds it'd taken, whatever they may be. Wearing it in front of a mirror, a sense of accomplishment over a job well done. I shook my head to clear the memories, rubbing the suit in a fond manner, smiling at it, only to frown a few seconds later. I couldn't be sure that those were my memories, not anymore. I only had two memories that I knew were true at this point, best to take everything else with a grain of salt. I wiped at my face tiredly, bemoaning the mess that was my life, only to stop. My face was uncovered, that didn't seem right, wasn't there a-?

I felt around my body, (Hey! I've got pockets!) only to come up empty. Frowning, I looked around from my spot on the ground and sure enough, a few feet away from where I was contained, a red piece of cloth, lying in the dirt. I moved over to it, bringing it up to eye level, just by looking at the back of the thing it was easy to see it was made of the same material, stitched by the same hand. I rubbed my gloved hand across it for a second before flipping it over, only to stop and balk once again.

Two large, white, reflective eyes stared back at me. It somehow managed a level of charm that I didn't think was possible from a stagnate image. I felt my heart well-up in emotion, a feeling of hope and wonder that was so familiar it ached. I knew this face, before, I was sure of it. It meant something to me that I couldn't quite put into words anymore. I clutched at the mask like a lifeline, hoping desperately for more to come back, to help me understand. But nothing else came, and looking at the mask only brought back that same feeling.

Sighing, I decided that sitting around here moping wasn't going to accomplish anything, and, like it or not, The Jackal was the only lead I had that might give me some much needed answers. Him, or the Original but even with his memories they were too jumbled at the moment for me to get anything useful like where he lives. I don't even know if I want to meet him, what if he's disgusted by me? What if he's afraid of me? The Original, as screwed up as it was, was the closest thing I had to family in this world, technically, and I desperately needed someone to help me figure this out. But I couldn't face him, not yet.

The Jackal had told me to find him at Shea Stadium at midnight tonight, glancing up at the sunlight coming through the windows I figured I had a few hours to go before I could make my way there. But I wanted out of this building and I wanted out of this suit, familiar it may be, but warm it was not. I picked my sorry self up off of the floor and walked over to the exit the Jackal left through.

Stepping out into the sun was like drawing in a breath of much needed air. The warehouse seemed to be situated on a decrepit wooden dock, and their wasn't a soul in sight. My eyes drifted inland, taking in the outline of what I knew to be New York city. For the most part, it looked the same as I thought it should, which was reassuring, but one building stood out like a sore thumb from the others. The skyscraper stood apart from the rest, from it's modern design to the large terrace that seemed to stick out at the top of it, but what really caught my eye was the name STARK in big bold letters across the sides of the building. My brain constricted, and for just a second I saw the same building, but in disrepair, a single A all that was left from the sign, before reality set back in.

…

Wait, what?