Hello, I'm a 15-year-old aspiring writer (You may call me Trance for short.) and this is my first story on fanfiction. Please reveiw, tell me what you like, what you don't like, whatever. Ideas for future story lines are welcome as well; I'm hoping to make this a continuing story. I apologize for any errors on my part, and I'm no expert on Spider-Man, so I'd love corrections/info. Tell me what you think is going to happen, I'm trying for a few unexpected plot twists, and I need to know what you're expecting...

This story takes place right after SM2 in the MOVIEVERSE. I don't own anything but what I have created and the computer this is written on. If you sue me, you'll be getting pocket fuzz.

((deep breath)) Here goes nothing...

Serafina: Genesis

By Transendental

Chapter One - Big White Bird

- 11:12 am - ???'s point of view -

It's warm here... but too hard. I think to myself as I wake up. I still feel so tired. Rolling from my left side to my back, I open my eyes to see something bright and blue above me. The sky. Why is it so hard to remember things? Where am I, anyways? Now feeling frightened, I sit up to look around me. Cluttered floor of gray, short brick walls with buildings peeking up above them. I'm in a large city. I try to remember back as far as I can... but only to get to the time right before I fell asleep. Or, more acurately, was knocked out. Why? I just know I fell. Fast and hard.

I'm in New York city, a hotel's sign says so. But why? And what time is it? I look for the sun. It's near being directly overhead, so probably almost noon. I'll check this place out. See what the city is like, see if I remember anything. Still, I can't fight the female urge to check my appearance before I go galavanting. Scattered about this roof are bits of air duct, boards, things that are unrecognizable, and a steel door. The shiny metal acts as a sort of mirror, and I trot over to it. My hair is messy, and I straighten it out with my fingers. The short blonde strands fall back into place. I look over the rest of me. First my clothing. Pale blue T-shirt, check. Pale blue pants, check. Pale blue shoes, check. And the whole outfit it so lightweight, so form fitting and yet not too snug, that it's like not wearing anything at all. But it has to be that way - it's more aerodynamic. Now for a limb check-over. Yep, still got all six of 'em. I can't help but smile and admire my fifteen-foot, pure white wingspan.

Compared to all the gray-brown dirt on the roof, my wings look so... clean. I smile, turn around and walk over to the edge of this building. Far below I see a busy intersection, and people milling about the streets. There is only a slight updraft here, but oh well. I climb up on the protective wall, take a deep breath, and fall, wings closed tight to my back, for about three stories. Then, unfurling my wings, I'm jerked upward as I catch the wind. I turn to the left, and steadily rise higher above the city. I look down, no one is noticing me, and I feel rather bad for them. They don't have wings. I don't mind a good walk, but flying sure is faster.

- 11:30 am - Peter Parker's point of view -

"Sure MJ... yep... uh-huh... I will be... K, bye. I love you too." I hang up the phone with a smile. All yesterday evening I was with Mary Jane, talking, answering questions.

"Peter!" Aunt May calls out.

"Coming," I say, making my way around a stack of boxes in her new living room. The apartment she moved into is smaller than the old house, but homey and clean. Exiting the yellow-walled room, I walk down a short hallway and into a small, blue-toned bedroom. "What do you need?"

"Oh, if you could just move the dresser to the corner, you can go off and do what you like."

As I'm gently easing it into to the corner, Aunt May keeps talking.

"I overheard your conversation with Mary Jane," she says mischeiviously.

"You overhear everything."

"It's my job. It sounds like she knows how you feel about her... finally."

I turn around. "Yeah," I say with a nod. "Yeah, she does."

"Well good, I'm glad for the both of you," she says, smiling sweetly. "I know you'll treat her better than all the other boys she's been with. After all, just look at how well you treat me."

"Aw, I'm happy to help Aunt May. If there is anything else you need just give me-" Oh wait. The phone's been disconnected. "Er, I'll call you when I get my phone back up. Then you can call me whenever you need something."

Suddenly her face has a concerned look to it. But I don't want to worry her with my financial situation now that she's finally got her own worked out.

"I've got to get going, so see you later."

"Yes, and you look out for yourself. You never know when that eight-armed hooligan might pop up again."

Of course he's gone now, poor guy, but I agree with her and give her a hug before leaving.

In my apartment I look through my latest photos. Wildlife, human life, hero life. With a sigh I stick them into a yellow file and head for my apartment door, automatically taking my camera and slinging it's strap around my neck. First, I peek my head out. No sign of my landlord. His door is shut. So I slip out and start for the stairs.

((fwoom!)) His door opens. "Rent?!"

"Soon!" I yell over my shoulder as I begin to run down the stairs.

Outside on the busy streets it's a sunny day, and I head for the Daily Bugle.

- 11:45 am - Harry Osbourne's point of view -

Oh, what to do? I sit up and wince at my headache. What an awful hangover... And that laughing. It just won't go away.

"Harry?" The butler questions on the other side of a locked door.

"Not now, Bernard." I say, irritated.

"But your appointment with-"

"Cancel it. Cancel everything for today."

"Very well sir."

What-to-do-what-to-do-what-to-do? Avenge my father, kill Peter? I pick up the cold glass cylinder filled with green human performance enhancing liquid. Hey, kinda looks like a glow stick... But what should I do?

- 11:45 am - Peter Parker's point of view -

"Peter! Where've you been?!" J. Jonah Jameson starts talking quickly and loudly as soon as I enter his office.

"Helping my Aunt May move sir," I manage to say before he asks something else.

"I hope you brought me photos that are more interesting than moving trucks."

I toss the file on his desk, and immediatly he starts going through them.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. What on earth is this?" He holds up a picture of a boy in a park, holding a balloon and eating ice cream.

"It's a kid in-"

"You know what this is? It's crap eating crap." The photo is tossed aside and he picks up a picture of me. Well, me as Spider-Man. "Ah-ha! A good one... I'll give you 300 for all of 'em... I can't beleive that guy came back."

"At least he rescued Mary Jane..."

"What difference does it make?! She didn't marry my son, she left him! For--" he stopped himself and looked at me accusingly.

"Hey, it was her choice Mr. Jameson."

"I suppose... Just goes to show how you can't trust anyone! I'll tell you what you can do to make it up to me. A woman came in here with one of those camera phones, and she had taken a picture of some sorta big white bird. Darned thing was blurry, but if you can get a good shot of it maybe we can get people to fall in love with nature and I'll be able to use those ridiculous squirrel pictures you keep bringing me."

"I'll try my best." Something to get the focus off me! I cash in the check and head out to begin my search for the mystery bird. I should talk to Harry sometime soon too...

- 11:50 am - ???'s point of view -

Flying against the wind to slow my landing, I set afoot on top of some musical joint - the 'Daily Bugle'.

This is irritating. I just can't remember things right now. I remember water, a lot of it, probably an ocean, at night. I remember a huge widescreen TV with a great sound system, and I'm watching it with someone. And I remember fancy china plates with gold filigree around the edges. There's gotta be something that would make me remember. Flying around for nearly an hour hasn't helped any. Nothing seems familiar here.

I'm dissapointed and thirsty. But I probably shouldn't be seen, so I can't go and get a drink from the public fountian I spotted while I was gliding around. Scowling, I sit down on the flat roof and rest my wings a bit. Funny. This music place sure sounds like a factory. Suddenly a bit of knowledge from times past floats into my mind. When I was young, someone was telling me about my ears. A wiry, black man. He was a cook... I concentrate hard on the memory, and at the same time pull at my pointy ear. "With ears that big, I bet you hear all sortsa things. The Master's sayin' you got better hearin' than all of us, so quit pretendin' not ta hear me when I yell at'cha for eatin' cookies before dinner!" He had said, in a good natured way. But try as I might, that is all I can remember right now.

I tilt my head to crack my neck, catching part of a conversation: "-moving! We have five minutes to get the afternoon edition of the paper out!" a man shouts. Oh... newspaper. Not music.

I decide to head back to where I was this morning, since I'm not accomplishing anything by flying around. Instead I'm getting hungry. With a sigh I take off, using landmarks to find my way back.

- 12:00 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

The Daily Bugle building is shaped like a wedge, with the road forking and running along either side of the establishment. Standing in front of it I watch the sea of cars go by me for a moment. Taxis, sport cars, old trucks, buses. I should go to Harry's. Maybe have lunch with him, I think with a frown. I turn on my heel to head for the cross walk.

An orange-lighted hand tells everyone to wait, and cars keep going by. I look around me. It's a nice day out, not too hot, and not many clouds in the sky. A jet plane streaks across the sky, leaving a cloud-like trail. I watch it, a speck in the sky, and it soon disappears behind the Daily Bugle. I check to see if a certain little white man says it okay to cross yet. Nope.

I look back towards the sky. A flash of white is caught in the corner of my eye. Not the plane. Way too big. Traffic has stopped, and people to cross the street, but I'm studying the fleeting object. Definitely a big white bird. Harry can wait, I decide, and I cross the street in the opposite direction I had planned on. On the sidewalk I steadily increase my speed to a jog and then to a run. But it's still getting away.

Leaping over a crate of fruit set outside a store, I cut down an alleyway to use a road that's a bit less crowded. Running-running-running. And then it's gone. I stop to catch my breath. Great. I faced a network of streets to my left, and a network of tourists to my right. Maybe it landed somewhere. I doggedly set out to find it. Suddenly the people start thinning out, and I come into a less wealthy area of NYC. Really, I'm only going to find it if I'm on the same level it is, so I quickly climb the escape ladder of an old, tall hotel.

- 12:10 pm - ???'s point of view -

I find the building I'm looking for, land, and seat myself on an old stereo speaker. What's going on? I think desperately, and tears come to my eyes. I rest my head in my hands, covering my ears to shut out the noise of the city, and close my eyes. I'm thirsty, hungry, tired, lonely, and my right shoulder is begining to ache.

- 12:15 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

Scanning the rooftops for a peculiarly large white bird, I eventually come across something that looks something like what I have in mind. I look around for any people that might notice a guy taking a shortcut by jumping from roof to roof. Taking a chance, I leap from the hotel to an opposing building. Four rooftops later and it's just one more building to go. The mystery bird is partially hidden by an old box spring and even older refrigerator, but a feathery white wing is in full view. I doubt Mr. Jameson would be satisfied with a shot of the back of the bird, but if I get right in front it will probably be scared away. Or it might think I'm a snack. I decide to use a from-the-side approach, and make another leap.

The time I land on the building's wall, clinging to it. I make my way to the other side of the brick building as quietly as possible. Using one hand and my legs to cling to the wall, I use my other arm to pop the cap off my camera's lens and shove it in my back pocket. Slowly I peek up over the brick safety wall around the roof. What I saw was nothing like what I expected.