I'll be in keeping with his slight strength disadvantages and keep his make weight lifting limit to 9-9.5 tons. The Spider-man here will be a mix of Noir's storyline and 616. The DC universe this is set in the DCAMU universe: Justice League: War, Justice League: Dark and Justice league vs Teen titans. So, Peter is about 17 in this timeline. Your vote on Teen Titans or otherwise. Perhaps a team with Red Hood? Currently up for consideration his romantic relationships: Ravager, Super Girl, Raven, Dee Dee, Arachne, Black Cat and Starfire.
Also be warned that much of the stuff Spidey says will be jargon from the 30's so be prepared to look it up.
Also, BETA needed with great grammar and well versed in both DC and Marvel.
Gotham city. A baroque landscape of buildings built from ages past and present. Modern construction of glass and steel clashing against the stone gargoyles that stood upon many older buildings. Rumours abound of the origins of Gotham, a city built upon a site of ancient mystical power. A city originally built for the insane and deranged. The truth having long since been lost to time.
In the day it's an economic hub bustling with industry and currency. Businesses, legitimate or not, conducting their operations with little fuss. The night however, was different.
The well known to be a den of corruption in law enforcement, politics and more. Crime was rampant and alleyways hiding dark, dangerous and despondent secrets. Arguably more well known to be the home of the caped crusader, the Dark Knight, The Batman. The black caped vigilante that beat down the criminals and exposed to corruption in his city.
There was an interesting caveat to that. His city. The Bat rarely flew far from his hunting grounds. Many of the criminals that wise up to this flee to other places. Places such as Gotham's neighbouring city. The much more modern city of New York, the Big Apple, unique New York.
In many ways Gotham's equal and opposite, modern, bustling and safe. Mostly.
In truth, New York was every bit as dangerous as Gotham. The only difference being that many criminals, having fled from the Bat, knew how to be careful and quiet. Still, a comparative safe haven compared to the rotting carcass that Gotham. Free of costumed freaks barring those eccentric crime bosses.
That, was about change.
A dark alleyway, intersecting the main street. It was bare of any of the pedestrians that would normally cross during the day. Just like they knew it would be. Their white van parked at the mouth of it, blocking the way with its bulky chassis. Two men sat, at the driver and passenger seat respectively.
"Psst! Mac!" The silence was broken by the hushed voice of a man.
"Mac, hey, Mac!" A hand tapped at 'Mac's shoulder prompting a snarl from him.
"The hell is it Brad?!" He grumbled.
His voice was muffled slightly by the black ski mask that he wore over his face. His heavily muscled frame contrasting Brad's gaunt and thin build. Mac's black sweater barely fit him whereas Brad's looked so loose that it looked like he was a kid that was trying on his dad's clothes.
"So much for the 'city that never sleeps' huh?" Brad grinned. "This place is a cakewalk, no more being busted by the Bat, no more psychopath freaks like Joker or Penguin! Just good old Crime bosses like Hammerhead and Kingpin. Fellas we can understand! Do our work undisturbed and give em' a cut!"
Mac grumbled something unintelligible. It was no secret that he resented having to kowtow to the other criminal bosses. Still, he couldn't lie that being allowed to work without living in fear of some super freak or costumed nutjob was better deal than Gotham. The few that have popped up got taken care of by the one of the bosses pretty quickly.
"Hey, you hear about the Osborn boys?" Bradley continued. "His gaggle of circus freaks got whacked not too long ago by somebody the Bugle's callin' the Noir Spider, Black Spider, if you don't care too much for the French-speak."
That got Mac worried. He did hear of the Spider. Some freak that beats the shit out of guys like him and hangs em' up in a giant spider web for the cops. Word is he isn't like the other superheroes, that he kills sometimes. He didn't want to believe it, hoping to whatever god would listen to a criminal like him for the Black Spider to be just a load of hot air made up by the Bugle to get readers.
"Shut yer trap Bradley," Mac grumbled. "Go check on the others, they're late and we're burnin gas sittin' here wit' the engine runnin'."
Brad sighed stepping out of the van's rear door and into the cold winter air. It wasn't snowing just yet but he wasn't too surprised in it would soon. Hugging himself and rubbing his arms to stave off the cold. Stepping out, he crushed a few discarded pieces of garbage that had a thin layer of frost underfoot.
He stepped towards a large hole in the brick wall. They had chipped away at the brick wall's mortar for some night before, finally weakening it enough for that section to be pushed in with a swing of a sledgehammer. All this was to get to the money launderer's vault on the other side of the wall.
"Hey, what's takin' you mooks so long?" Brad asked, staring into the hole in the wall.
He got no answer. "Is grabbin' green to hard to do? C'mon guys it's freezin' out here!"
"Don't think they can say too much." A voice called, a voice that sounded like a kid's yet wasn't.
He turned his head up, towards the source of the voice. "What the fu-!"
He was silenced by a glob of black silk that latched onto his lower face. His eyes widened, hands flying to try and pry off the substance. Looking to his assailant, Brad froze.
It was a figure, a man, garbed in an open black trenchcoat that casted a shadow over the light from the streetlight at his back. He was crouched on a giant black spider web that was anchored along the narrow walls of the alleyway. His arms were resting on his knees and staring down at Bradley.
Aside from the trench coat, he wore a pair of cargo pants, high military styled boots and a leather jacket worn over a black coloured vest on sepia clothing. A mask of black fabric and wide, angular aviator goggles covered his entire face. Topped off by a fedora he held pinched between his fingers. Displayed on his chest, however, was the white icon of an eight legged arachnid.
"Figured I would get some finks like you this time of night," He said
Three human shaped figures hung from parts of the web. His crew, Vincent, Rubo and John all wrapped up in the same black silk, only their panicked, darting eyes visible from their bindings. Muffled pleas for help emanating from the cocoons, terrified, wide eyes begging for help.
Frozen by fear, the thug didn't even get the chance to run before he was snapped up by a burst of web lines, snaring him and dragging him up amidst his muffled screams.
Mac looked back in time to see his crewmate get snagged. Grabbing his crowbar and pistol, the thug made a dash through the van and snapped his gun upwards. He was met with a fist that smacked square into his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.
"You fuckin' Spider-freak!" Mac roared, grabbing his bleeding nose with the gun that held his hand.
"Real original, bet a greaseball like you get many friends with those off the cob jabs?" The Spider landed in a crouch in front of the criminal, raising one fist and angling himself for the oncoming blow.
"Shut up!" Mac swung his crowbar at the hero, missing when the black clad vigilante jumped back.
He let himself drop, arms positioned behind him. His palms smacked against to cobblestones, whole body coiling up into a mock fetal position with his arms supporting his body. Like a coiled snake he struck out, both feet striking Mac's chest.
The big man was thrown back nearly ten meters down the alleyway. He would have flown further if it weren't for the fact that his back slammed against a metal dumpster, cushioning his fall. Still, he curled up on one hand and both knees. One hand wrapped around his chest.
"Don't worry, I didn't break em' just bruised. Which is more than I can say about you if you don;t work with me pally." The man was back, standing a mere foot from Mac's fallen form.
Mac looked up, blood gushing from his nose and into his mouth,colouring his white teeth a bright red. "I-I dunno nuthin'!"
He crouched down, white eyeless lenses reflecting Mac's terrified features. "A fink like you can't have figured out that this place's vault hadn't been reinforced up to standard in years. So, who's your butter and eggs man?"
Yet, the thug seemed determined to keep his lips sealed. Simply glaring at the vigilante.
"Have it your way," The Spider hissed, grabbing a black revolver from it's holster and lowering down at Mac.
"W-wai-" He didn't get to finish, a sharp crack echoed through the crisp New York air.
He screamed, yelling curses at the top of his lungs. Rage and shock, followed by pain and tears. His hands swapped around his kneecap, gushing crimson all over the ground.
"Don't believe I'll fill a mook like you with night light? You Brunos are always so sure of yourselves." He pulled back on the hammer once more with a loud ratcheting click. "Still think you got me all figured out?"
Mac had enough, thus freak wasn't like the others. He didn't sign up to die for Hammerhead. "H-Hammerhead, he meets us at the docks every Friday. That's all I know I-I swear!'
"Now was that so hard?" The Spider sighed, releasing a spray of webbing at Mac's leg, simultaneously binding him to the floor and applying a makeshift gauze to staunch the bleeding.
Snapping up one of the thug's dropped cell phones. He gave a quick message to the ambulance and police.
"The Coppers are gonna take care of you lot. Maybe I'll have a chat with my favourite gumshoe."
He drew away slowly, performing a gesture similar to 'Devil's horns' performed at rock concerts. The line of black biological cable connecting to a distant wall and letting him swing away.
"Hell of a mess," a police officer said, shifting the steaming cup of coffee he held in one hand and taking a bite from a doughnut in the other.
The overweight man looked on at the sight of the criminals being hauled down. This was just one of many robberies or cases of theft that ended in the perps being wrapped in black silk.
NYPD often receiving an anonymous tip off with a nearby payphone or one of the suspect's own devices. Frankly whoever this, 'Black Spider', was, he certainly had it in for these folks.
"What's your take on this detective De Wolfe?"
An attractive blonde looked his way, the police department's badge hanging from her neck via a thin chain. She wore a khaki overcoat over her green skirt and white blouse.
Her attractive fair features pale in the early winter chill. Full, pink lips pressed into a grim line and cheek reddened and flush. Her short blonde hair was pressed down by an old paperboy's cap, giving her a look reminiscent of women from the thirties.
"He's not stupid, I'll give him that much. Knew exactly who to ask. Ain't that right Gargan?" She gave a pointed look to the big thing being tended to by the paramedics.
He didn't say anything, only giving the detective a hate filled glare.
The overweight officer, Frank, smiled at him. "Ya blew it Gargan, last time we hadn't had the evidence to put you away. This time we got you."
"We didn't do jack squat this time Frank," De Wolfe countered, earning a questioning look from the other officer. "It's the spider that get em' all before calling us in."
"You callin' him some kinda hero detective? Last I read the he's still a menace," Frank huffed.
Dear Wolfe shot him a glare. "I'm calling him effective, good old Mac over here got a cap in the knee because he didn't tell Noir Spider what he wanted to hear."
She turned to the criminal once more. "Isn't that right?"
Mac sighed, finding it useless to keep up the act. "Yeah, but I sure as fuck can't tell you blue pukes. Da boss won't know who told da bug, word is he hits lots of us. He'll damn well know if I told you, no dice."
Jean hissed a string of curses under her breath and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Just...just take him."
The detective was pulled away from her frustration by a familiar buzzing in her pocket. Pulling out her phone, she eyed the single message outlined by an icon of a black fedora.
"We need to talk, gumshoe."
She smiled, pearly whites showing as she strolled back to her car.
"Meeting a special someone detective De Wolfe?" One of the female officers asked.
De Wolfe paused a moment to think on her response. "You could say that."
Diners, she loved diners. Especially after a tiring night call, a decaf and apple pie with vanilla ice-cream or a strawberry milkshake did her good.
All Stripes diner wasn't the biggest she'd seen, but it was clean, the food was good
Well, that and the fact that she was meeting a friend. Tucked away in the corner booth, away from whatever passing pedestrians. That was how they agreed to meet.
"The usual detective Jean?"
She smiled and nodded at the owner, a lanky man in a red striped uniform and grease stained apron.
"Order up! Apple pie with vanilla ice-cream!" He called back to the kitchen.
The jingle of the door drew her attention to the door, finding the trench coat clad figure that she had grown used to.
Joe ignored him, it was in his best interests to anyway.
"Spider," the officer greeted.
He took a seat across her, waiting on how to come and drop off her order before he leaned forwards on the table. His white goggles reflected her face, though it didn't bother her as much as it used to.
"De Wolfe, having an All-the-way again?" He returned, looking towards the dessert.
Jean huffed. "The last thing I need is a health talk from a spider."
"What's your story, Morning Glory?" He asked, a hint of mirth in his voice.
The detective grumbled. "Gargan didn't say anything, pretty sure he spilled it all to you though."
Nodding, the vigilante leaned back in his seat. "Hammerhead is paying off lesser crews to keep freaks like me off their backs."
The detective bit a slice of pie and ice-cream from her fork. "You think this has something to do with the recent killings of Meta-Humans?"
The black clad man shrugged "You're the Abercrombie Gumshoe, you tell me."
Jean gave a schortle, she liked the way Spider spoke. He often tickled her fancy of the thirties in the way he dressed and spoke.
Since she met him about taking down Otto Octavius, this had become regular. More often meeting about criminals, or information that he managed to get when reaching around the red tape of the law. He got things done where her hands were tied, though his fatalistic view on crime wasn't the easiest to agree with.
"Next Friday. Hammerhead's are meeting with all the small crews to get a cut of their haul at the docks. I'm hitting it, be ready with meatwagons when I give you a dil-ya-ble."
He spoke with finality, he wasn't asking for help. "Don't you think it's a trap? He might not even be there, let me call it in."
Black Spider raised his hand and gestured with two fingers. "He doesn't know that I'm onto him. A looker like you is going to stick out hard with a group of thugs like them around. No offense dollface but you coppers leak like a bad faucet."
"Plus, if I crash the party in front of the crews. It'll send a message that Hammerhead's hunt for Metas aren't doing squat."
Jean snapped her fingers. "Making all these show killings of Meta humans stop because of the loss of credibility!"
He nodded, though he was smiling she couldn't tell behind the black mask.
The Spider stood, trench coat fluttering as he left. Leaving the detective to finish her snack.
Queens, New York… It wasn't clean, pretty or high class, but it was home. For Peter Parker, he was one of the few places he truly loved. His house was old, Aunt May and Uncle Ben bought this place back just before the Great Depression of the 1930's.
"Peter!" An elderly woman called, Aunt May, good old aunt May.
It took a moment for him to pull off his trench coat, mask, gloves and vest. "Yes Aunt May?!"
He threw kicked Uncle Ben's boots under his bed and opened his door. The sturdy leather footwear thumping out of sight.
"I just wanted to wish you happy birthday dear." The old woman smiled.
Aunt may, she's been putting up a strong front since uncle Ben's death more than a year ago.
"Thanks Aunt May, I'll be down in a minute," Peter smiled back.
She nodded, she tried not to show it but it weighed heavy on her soul. Every holiday or even that uncle Ben wasn't here for. The first Christmas, the first Thanksgiving, the first new years.
"We'll be down soon or the cake won't eat itself!"
Peter grinned at that, she always tried to appear cheery despite herself. Taking care of him on her own was never easy, he at least wanted to earn his own way into university. Between his time as a vigilante and an investigative reporter, it wasn't easy to find time to study.
Aunt May sat at the old table, a bright smile on her face as she watched her nephew walk down the stairs.
Seeing her like that, Peter couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. Without Uncle Ben, the tabled seemed so empty. The birthday seemed more like a funeral than a cause for celebration. Still, the teen kept up a forced smile, taking his seat at the table.
Just Aunt May and himself, Harry and Mary Jane too. Though he pushed them away years ago, the young man couldn't help but feel lonely. Even so, every time he thought about reaching out and explaining himself, her words rang in his mind.
The docks were cold, the scent of salt permeating the night air. It was late, the kind of late that nobody would be out at the docks unless they looking to stay clear of prying eyes. Peter leaned over the edge of a roof, watching over the gangsters below as they loaded the truck.
"Hey, why the heck down the boss want this thing again? What the heck is it anyways?"
Fancy Dan, a man in a magenta business suit pried open the wooden cover of the crate with his crowbar, peering into the strange icon on the black statue nestled on a bed of packing foam. Bile rose at the sight of that tacky suit. The same ones he saw in those pictures Urich had taken. His smug expression captured in that frame. Standing amongst the crowd of terrified people, watching as their home burned down by his hand.
Peter hissed, ducking down when they loved into a nearby warehouse. "I'll make those finks pay for what they've done."
Another man, muscular and broad dressed in an orange sweater that stretched across his frame shrugged. He was Ox, the Goblin gang's muscle.
"Somethin' fer da boss's collection a voodoo...juju crap."
Fancy Dan leaned down, fedora topped head casting a shadow over the object. He eyed it suspiciously.
"Buncha hocus pocus if ya ask me."
It was a life-sized statue of a woman made of a black glass-like material. Eight legs wrapped around her body from a giant spider that peered over her shoulder as she lay upon the packing material. Bags around her youthful face with long hair tied into a braided bun, her eyes however. Serene features seemingly despite the and the arachnid that was wrapped around her.
"An obsidian statue? How did anybody carve a statue so damned detailed out of a material so damned brittle?" Peter wondered.
"Word is the boss got this piece smuggled from a place called Themyscira from an inside source."
"Hey, quit yer yammering and load it up!" Another voice called from inside the truck.
Both Ox and Fancy Dan grumbled, hefting the crate up.
Almost immediately, Fancy Dan's knee buckled from the weight. "Ox, h-hold up I can't"
The crate and statue came crashing down, violent shattering the immaculate figure's stomach section. At first, Dan leaned in panic settling in as the thug panicked at the thought of becoming the Goblin's next victim. He concerns were cut off as a swarm of spiders emerged from the depths of the hole.
"GET EM" OFFA ME! THEY'RE BITING!"
Peter watched, eyes fixed in shock. Shock, not horror, horror was saved for those that didn't deserve.
"Don't scream… don't," Peter steadied himself, unable to look away from the flailing criminal as his crew tried to help him.
Caught in his shock, the young man noticed too late that one of those black spiders hand climbed onto his hand. The stab of pain that followed it's fangs sinking into flesh tainted his vision in black. A searing pain ripping through the teen's skull.
He looked around, hazel eyes wide when he found himself in the center of a massive web stripped nude. The stands of white silk as thick as suspension bridge cable were covered in swarms of enormous, skittering black spiders that stared at him with their numerous crimson eyes. A dim red light enveloped him, seemingly from the masses of gathered spiders.
Peter struggled, oh how he struggled. Each tug and ragged breath drew the attention of something else. Something terrible.
"Hmmm… what do we have here?"
A smooth, silken voice called out to him. It steadied his struggling for a moment, if for no other reason than to search for the source of the voice. The voice chortled, her laughter didn't feel like she was degrading him, just that she genuinely found him amusing.
She was getting closer now, stepping into the scant light before him. Her form inspiring nothing short of sheer awe. Her body...bodies…the torso of a young woman dressed in a simple white dress and corset, fused to the horrifying lower half of a titanic arachnid.
Her human appearance was exactly that of the statue that the Goblin gang was carrying. THe only difference was that now he could see her in colour.
"Y-you're…"
She leaned forwards, spider limbs propelling her forwards with ease and grace that betrayed her size. The spider woman's face was inches away from his now. Her small smile did little to reassure him.
"Why do you tremble? My bite brings death to only those of evil intent… Forgive me, for I must bestow on you a torment even greater. The curse of power..."
"Wait, wha-" Peter's response died when she darted forwards, long fangs glinting with venom sinking into his neck.
The words of that giant spider goddess that had bitten him. Her words rang true, He needed to keep them safe, away from him and his many enemies. Aunt May though, he couldn't leave her alone, not after she lost Uncle Ben.
"Peter?"
He snapped out of his musings, Aunt May giving him a worried stare.
"Yeah Aunt May, just thinking of Uncle Ben is all…" He sighed. Leaning his elbows on the table setting his face into his open hands.
She laid a hand upon her nephew's shoulder. He looked up at her face. She leaned over, wrapping her other arm around him.
Both of them never said a word as the candles covered the cake in wax.