(Author's Note): Firstly I would like to beg your forgiveness for any grammar or spelling errors. I know they can be a pain in the butt to put up with (but if anyone wants to beta my work just send me a email *hint hint*). I'm kind of writing this nonstop right now and I want to get as much input on it as I can. And I hope it is blatantly obvious that I am not the creator of Spider-Man or any of the other characters I use in this story. I love these characters and wanted to do something new with them, and this is what unfolded...
The story begins five years after Peter Parker is bitten by the radioactive spider that changed his life forever. He is now twenty years old, and balancing his job, his friends and family, his schoolwork, and his identity as Spider-Man. I take it on faith that I'm doing some new an interesting things with our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I hope you enjoy it.
We begin with the retelling of the origins of Venom...
Peter stood atop the Empire State Building gripping his mask in his hands. Blood, still wet on his suit, slowly dripped down towards the concrete below. He leaned forward as the winds around him grew stronger. For a moment, for just a split second, he thought about letting go. He thought about dropping, about plummeting to the concrete below, about ending everything he felt, everything he hated and loved and despised and cared for. But that's when Peter would pull himself back, stand straight, and pull the mask back over his face.
The blood on his suit, though intimidating, wasn't his. A ricochet had struck the shoulder of a criminal in front of him, spraying blood on the abdomen of Peter's costume. Crouching, Peter leapt into the air and went into freefall. The world began to blur and warp as he gained speed, rapidly approaching terminal velocity. Spinning, Peter fired two webs to break his inertia, then spun to face the ground again. He shot two more webs and began swinging at incredible speeds between the skyscrapers of New York City. Every block or so Peter would notice the flash of a camera, reminding him that he was just as much a carnival attraction as a guardian. Peter went arcing into the air and landed against a flag pole. A series of flashes erupted from the crowd and Peter shook his head. He'd thought about giving the cameras the finger so many times the thought was almost sweet on his tongue.
It had been Steve Rogers, or Captain America to the general public, who had said that the costume represented more than just a crime fighter. It represented the morals and ideals that that hero fought for, and Peter didn't want to be fighting for the right to flip people off. Instead he waved plainly then leapt off into an alleyway. Peter went leaping through a fire escape to the roof an adjacent building, landing on top of a chimney. Peter dropped down another fire escape and began to look around. Once he was positive he hadn't been followed, Peter opened a padlock on a window and climbed inside.
He peeled the suit of quickly, getting it in cold water before the blood had set in, a tip he'd gotten from both Logan and Frank Castle. Once that chore was complete, Peter fell into his couch and lifted the remote control. Peter flung an arm wildly and clicked he button to his answering machine.
There was a loud beep followed by, "Peter! Peter! Peter! Come on, man, you've gotta answer your damn phone one of these days. I don't know why your aunt keeps paying for the thing if you're never around to talk. You know, I'm going to a party tonight at this club called Hellions, and I was just saying you should probably come along since you never, ever, ever get out! Hey, I wonder how long this thing will let me recor--"
There was another loud beep. "Hey Peter, it's Gwen. Call me back, I miss you,"
An electronic voice started to speak, and Peter turned his answering machine off. Something as simple as Gwen's voice managed to put Peter in a lull. He checked the time of the message and was astonished when it had only been fifteen minutes prior. Peter shot a strand of webbing at his phone then yanked it towards him. He dialed Gwen's number then peeled the webbing away as he tried holding it to his ear. He tapped against the plastic device nervously, until finally he heard the line click.
"Hello?" Gwen sounded groggy, which made Peter feel bad.
"Hey, it's me…uh…Peter,"
"Really? I thought the ghost of friendships past was calling me," Gwen quipped.
"Leave the sarcastic comments to me Tootsie, you need wit," Peter said, leaning into his couch.
"So what have you been up to during the four days I haven't seen you?" Gwen wasted no time in asking her first question. It was something that Peter loved the most about her. "Anything spectacular or amazing,"
Peter couldn't help but grin as he lied. "No. I've just been buried in homework," It was the oldest line Peter had, but it never raised any questions.
Gwen made a sound that was half excepting and half accusing.
"Dr. Connor has me running trials, I'm always back and forth between my apartment and my lab. It's just been hectic lately. But, if you wanted I should come over to your place, I'd be more than willing," Peter said.
"Oh? Do you think I'm going to invite you over to my apartment at one-thirty in the morning?" Gwen said in a blatant tone.
"Probably not, but it was worth a shot. A guy has to go for every opportunity he is given," Peter stood to retrieve a shirt draped on the back of a chair. "So when will I have the honor of seeing you again?"
"Are you free for lunch?" Gwen asked.
Peter leaved through a notebook to mimic the sound of a schedule. "I am very free for lunch," He said, smirking.
"Well good, I'll see you at Mickey's at one o'clock sharp. I'll make reservations," Gwen said before hanging up.
Peter leap up from the top of a building and shot a web, narrowly escaping an explosion. Bullets began to fly from within the fire ball, whizzing over Peter's shoulders and head. Landing horizontal on a building wall, Peter turned towards the explosion as four figures rocketed away from it. They called themselves the Four Jacks. Strapping rocket packs on their backs, they flew about Manhattan robbing banks and armored cars. Peter had come across them twice before, and they packed a deep hat full of tricks to aid them in their getaways. Fortunately for Peter, he'd prepared to run into them that morning.
The Four Jacks made their way hastily towards the harbor, and Peter took off swinging after them. But that's when his watch began to chirp loudly. He'd almost forgotten about his date with Gwen. Peter continued his pursuit until he reached the top of the tallest building for three blocks. He looked out at the Four Jacks as they got closer and closer to the harbor, almost able to hear their taunting laughs. Peter quickly got a tracking device and fired it, but it fell short and landed on a car. Landing in a crouched position, Peter cursed silently under his breath
Turning, Peter made his way hastily across the city towards Mickey's. His wristwatch beeped again indicating that he only had five minutes before Gwen would be sitting down. Peter hurled himself over a rail, shot a web, then pulled as hard as he could. His speed doubled and he went zipping into an alleyway. Peter landed against a wall with a bit of a clap, then started to switch into his civilian cloths. He stuffed the suit into his backpack and webbed it up in a high corner where no one could get to it. Slowly Peter lowered himself to the ground and walked out onto the sidewalk. As he approached the front door of Mickey's, Peter noticed the bob of Gwen's golden blond hair. She smiled at him and waved.
"I did not think you were going to show up," Gwen said with a smile.
"Is that any way to greet a friend," Peter said. The two exchanged hugs, and Peter was once again reminded of all the little things that he loved about Gwen. She pulled away and brushed some hair behind her ear.
"Wait right here, okay?" Gwen said, disappearing behind the corner of the restaurant. When she reappeared, to Peter's dismay, a man standing about six foot four had his arm wrapped up in hers. Time slowed for Peter as the two approached, and he watched one of the few things he purely loved crumble before his very eyes.
"Peter Parker, meet Eddie Brock," Gwen said.
Eddie stretched his hand out and Peter shook it. "Good to meet you finally. You must be a very busy man," Eddie said.
Peter nodded. "Busy is, well, too light a term sometimes," The three walked into the restaurant and were seated in a booth surrounded by windows. When Gwen scooted in to the bench, Eddie followed, and wrapped an arm around Gwen's shoulder. Peter felt a flare of jealously roar up inside of him, and he did his best to keep that emotion from showing in his eyes.
"So how did you two meet?" Peter asked.
"Well, when I started working for the Manhattan Tribune, Eddie was one of the photographers there. Sort of an office romance at first until he left to work at the Daily Bugle, actually. I'm surprised you haven't heard," Gwen said.
"I haven't sold a photo to Jameson in weeks," Peter said solemnly.
"You know Pete, if you don't mind me asking, how do you get such great shots of Spider-Man," Eddie asked with a smile. It was one of Peter's most frequently asked questions, and he'd gotten quite good at dodging them.
"One part luck, one part dumb luck, and the fact that I never leave the house without my camera," Peter said. "I've just been lucky,"
"Word around the office is that you two know each other and he's giving you some kind of deal or something," Eddie took up his water glass and sipped from it slowly. "Any validity to that rumor?"
Peter laughed. "Not in the least. I don't even know what his voice sounds like," Peter fidgeted nervously.
"That's too bad, I'd love to do an interview sometime. Do you know how much that would mean to the Tribune, an interview with Spider-Man, Manhattan's saving grace," Gwen's eyes shined a little as she spoke. Her passion was one of Peter's favorite things. One of the things he loved the most. One of the things he was sure Eddie also loved about Gwen.
"Your ambitions are great and many young one," Peter said.
Eddie's cell phone began to ring wildly and he smirked. "It's the Bugle, I better take this," Eddie stood and began to wander to a quieter part of the restaurant.
"So what do you think of him?" Gwen asked.
"He seems nice. Hard to gauge any deep sense of personal knowledge from only ten minutes of talking," Peter began to play with a sugar packet nervously. "So I take it you like him,"
Gwen nodded, unable to respond immediately because of her drink. "I do, I like him a lot. He's a lot of fun, and so sweet, and nice, and kind, and--" That's when Peter's phone began ringing. It was the Bugle as well. Peter shook his head a little then flipped his phone open.
"Hello?" Peter said.
"Parker! Where've you been?"
"Uh--"
"Don't worry. Hey, I need you to get down here right away, we've got a big event this evening and I need every photographer. Hurry!" Jameson's voice was raw and coarse, he'd been yelling all day.
Peter turned to Gwen. "I um…I have to go," Peter said just as Eddie returned to the table.
"I assume you got the same panicked call from Jonah that I did. Sorry babe, looks like our photo taking capabilities are needed," Eddie leaned in and gave Gwen a goodbye kiss.
Once in the lobby of the Bugle, Peter was able to grasp the true chaos of the situation. People ran in every directions, reporters dashed about, photographers readied their gear. Peter and Eddie went walking up a small circle which had formed around J. Jonah Jameson, editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle.
"Okay, we just got this tip about twenty minutes ago, but allegedly the space shuttle 'The Contender' is going to be landing just ten miles from the coast of New York City, and this is the place they will be arriving. I want everyone on the coast now, and I want communication people, we need to cover this like white on rice!" Jonah spat as he talked, pointing his fingers and cigar at everyone who locked eyes with him. As the group began breaking up, Jonah turned back to them and shouted "Parker! Brock! Front and center,"
The two looked at each other then walked nervously up to Jonah. "You two are my best photographers. I need you two to be snapping shots that are going to sell newspapers damn it," Jonah grabbed two heavy looking black bags and handed one to both Peter and Eddie. "This is state of the art in both digital and film. If you two can't take good pictures with this then all hope is lost. And there's a hell of a bonus in for the one who gets the best shot," Jonah turned back to his desk and started going through papers.
Eddie and Peter made their way to the elevators, each rummaging through the bags that Jonah had given them. Peter was astonished at the equipment he saw, which must've cost the Bugle at least ten thousand dollars, if not more.
"This is like the gig bag of my dreams," Eddie attached a lens to the main part of the camera and began to peer through it. "So where do you think we should set up," Eddie asked.
Peter shifted nervously. Not only was Eddie dating the girl of his dreams, but he also wanted to be best friends apparently. "Don't you think it'd be better if we split up? One of us takes the north and one of us takes the south," Peter tried to suggest this as tentatively as he could. He didn't want to make waves with Gwen's new boyfriend.
"That's all well and good, but we could also…" Eddie's voice trailed off as he went through his own personal shoulder bag. With a smile he pulled a small, black transistor radio out. "…Just listen to the police scanner and wait for the distress call to come out from the space shuttle. It'll broadcast over all emergency stations,"
Peter smiled and started shaking his head. "You take all the fun out of the hunt, don't you?"
"Come on, I know the best spot to wait," Eddie said.
The two left the Bugle in as big a hurry as their parcels would allow, making their way down Broadway to a small coffee shop. As Eddie talked about how delicious the pastries were at the Mud Hut, a small device in Peter's back pocket began to chirp. It was alerting him that there was a crime that needed his attention. Peter stopped walked and silenced the little pager, then pulled it free from his pocket. It was a message from the Avengers.
"Eddie, I'm sorry, you have no idea how sorry, but I've got to go," Peter said quickly. He shuffled some things around in his hand as he began to respond to the message he'd received.
"What's going on?" Eddie asked a little too inquisitively.
"It's my Aunt. She needs me back the house, kind of a personal matter. You understand, don't you?" Peter said. Eddie started nodding.
"Need me to hail you a cab or something?"
"No, no. I'll get there just fine," Peter said with a grin. He and Eddie shook hands and Eddie continued his journey to the Mud Hut.
