Disclaimer I do not own Spider-Man or Ninja Turtles. All associated concepts are copyrighted by third parties.
All original characters and concepts are copyright Celgress.
Spider-Man: Teenage Mutant Ninja Warriors – Prologue: Being Different
By
Celgress and CMR Rosa
Peter's Story
Six months has it really been that long since my life changed forever, again? It seems like yesterday. I was just your average teenage science geek living in Queens along with my Uncle, Aunt and annoying younger sister Teresa. Until then the only extraordinary thing about me, if you'd term it such, was the mysterious fate of my parents.
We came to live with our paternal Uncle Ben and Aunt May following the disappearance of our parents nine years ago when I was six and Teresa was one. Our parents had been working for an upstart tech company called Oscorp Industries on some super-secret project at the time. I'm sure you've heard of Oscorp, after all who hasn't? In the years since my parents went missing Oscop has grown into one of the top five tech firms in the country if not the world; through their revolutionary development of next gen integrated computer processors, independent problem solving AI robotics and cutting edge bio-medicine. Years later when I was twelve I discovered a faded, navy blue satchel embossed with the corporate logo of Oscorp, a metallic circle with a break in it near the bottom, amongst a box full of my parents belongings in our attic. It contained mostly old photographs and papers filled with random scribbling. There was however one old thing present; a manila folder labeled "TOP SECRET" in bright red letters. I couldn't read the contents inside. Everything was written in a type of code. Periodically I've attempt to decipher the language, code or whatever it is for the past three years without success. Whatever the symbolic system utilized is it seemingly has no parallel that I can find. Once or twice I've briefly entertained the ridicules notion the system is of extra-terrestrial origins. Trying to make heads or tails of the symbols employed has proven beyond frustrating, this coming from a guy who loves encryption algorithms and dead languages alike. If the folder wasn't my only link to the fate of my parents I'd have given on it up long ago.
My best male friend Harry is actually the son of Oscorp founder and CEO Norman Osborn, go figure. Harry is a great guy though his father pushes him way too hard in my opinion. I've only had the pleasure of meting Norman Osborn a handful of times, but the guy comes across as a major overachiever. A trait he eagerly projects on his son. Poor Harry can do nothing right in his father's eyes. Norman Osborn likes me for some strange reason, holding my love of science and corresponding high grades in high esteem. I've yet to broach the subject of my parents with either Osborn. I doubt I ever will. I can't see it doing any good. Harry being my age wouldn't be equipped to answer my questions and I strongly doubt Norman would provide answers. The guy lives, breathes and sleeps his company. I sense Norman would never do anything that could compromise Oscorp in anyway. Harry once told me his dad has been single-mindedly devoted to the company since the death of Harry's mother.
My best female friend is Gwen Stacy. She is the unorthodox, spunky daughter of NYC police captain George Stacy. Gwen is one tough cookie. I first met Gwen when she pulled a knife on local knucklehead Flash Thompson and his sycophant cronies when they tried to beat the crap out of my in front of my frantic sister while we were strolling through Central Park. The incident occurred because I answered a math question intended for Flash's equally dimwitted buddy Kenny "Kong" MacFarlane. Once Teresa and I overcame our fear of this aggressive punk girl the three of us became fast friends. It turned out beneath her heavy makeup and pink highlighted hair Gwen is nearly as smart as I am. The three of us have been inseparable ever since.
A visit to Oscorp six months ago changed my life once more, odd how the company keeps intruding on my existing. Almost makes a guy believe in fate like my head in the clouds sister does. While touring the corridors of the massive complex that forms Oscorp headquarters during a field trip in September I was bitten by an escaped, genetically enhanced spider. At the time I thought nothing of the incident, shrugging it of as one of those things. The next few days I was deathly ill. My Uncle and Aunt considered taking me to the hospital several times. Keeping the incident at Oscorp secret I assured them I would be fine. It was only an early season case of the flue I said. I'd be okay in a couple days. A week later, three school days and most of that weekend, I recovered none the worse for ware or so I thought. I soon discovered the spider's bite had done more than make me sick it had somehow altered me, rewriting my DNA. I soon development amazing powers analogues to those of your typical arachnid. Creating a new identity I donned a red and blue costume, inspired in part by the unusual color scheme of the arthropod that'd bestowed my spectacular abilities, complete with face mask. I christened myself Spider-Man.
At first my motivation was nothing more than making a quick buck. I entered myself in an MMA fight at Madison Square Garden. I won the bout handily, in spite of having no formal training. However the promoter ripped me off refusing to hand over the cash saying I'd created. I later returned the favor when I came back half in half an hour planning on giving the sleaze ball a piece of my mind. I saw the guy being held up by a gang of local thugs known as the Purple Dragons. The Dragons were led by an extra-large, blonde hair goon going by the alias Hun. I remember watching passively as Hun and his troops worked over the promoter. The guy was desperately begging me for assistance. I ignored his pleas figuring it wasn't my problem. I spent the remainder of that evening moping around feeling angry I'd been ripped off. Packing away my suit I slowly headed home. When I finally arrived there were police cars everywhere. Aunt May and Teresa were in tears. Uncle Ben had been carjacked and murdered by the Purple Dragons while out searching for me. I had forgotten to turn on my smart phone after the match. I felt terrible.
Vowing I'd bring Uncle Ben's killers to justice Spider-Man became a crime fighter. While I've taken plenty of dangerous offenders off the streets over the past six months, I have yet to collar any Purple Dragon members. Word on the street is their protected by a larger, more powerful group a shadowy organization known only as the Foot. Allies or no allies I'll bring them down no matter what it takes. I owe Uncle Ben that much.
Splinter's Story
I hope I have provided my young pupils adequate training. I am painfully aware they will be feared and mistrusted if not outright hated by the world above. I never thought I would be a father. I started life as a simple brown rat the personal pet of Japanese ninja master Hamato Yoshi, last of the honorable Foot Clan. He named me Splinter because of my affinity for wood products. My days were spent in relative luxury mimicking the movements of my master, giving me a nearly unparalleled knowledge of Ninjutsu. I was happy living with Master Yoshi and his family consisting of his wife and young daughter. One day an American businessman came. He convinced Master Yoshi the ancient scrolls in Yoshi's possession could be turned into great wealth. The American businessman contented the knowledge contained within the scrolls was priceless. Being all but penniless Master Yoshi followed the stranger's advice. Soon we had relocated to New York City in America. Where we enjoyed a degree of wealth far in excess of what we had known in Japan. All did not remain well for long. One day shortly after our arrival Master Yoshi told his wife we must flee our new home, an upscale apartment, the following day. Master Yoshi stated he had been deceived by the American businessman, that the man desired power at the cost of all else. The American planned on freeing a powerful demon named Ch'rell the Shredder from his imprisonment in another realm. That night before we could leave the American businessman along with several other men dressed in various articles of purple showed up. Right away I could tell these were bad men, I coward in my cage watching as the American businessman and Master Yoshi argued fiercely. The American businessman and his associates attacked Master Yoshi. Using the distracted tragically provided by his crying daughter and screaming wife they subdued Master Yoshi stealing the scrolls they left our home after setting it ablaze, but not before slaughtering my family. In the confusion my wicker cage was knocked over taking the chance I escaped the building through an open window moments before flames engulfed the apartment.
I spent the next year eking out a miserable existence on the streets. I was cold, wet, and hungry. When winter came I retreated underground into the sewers seeking warmth. One day while scavenging for food in a storm drain I came across four discarded turtles. The small reptiles were swimming around in a pool of strange translucent, green chemicals. The slime had apparently originated from a shattered, glass canister, the remains of which lay scattered everywhere. On the largest chunk was printed a silver colored circle with a gap in the bottom.
Gathering the turtles into a coffee can I cleaned off the substance as best I could. In spite of my best efforts I became covered in the gelatinous ooze. A day later I found myself dramatically changed. The four baby turtles had also been changed. We were now human animal hybrids. Though altered substantially I knew the infants, like any children, couldn't survive without extensive care. Feeling I had little choice I adopted them as my own.
Over the next fifteen years I diligently preformed both the duties of loving father and instructor. Many interesting, useful items, including books on a variety of subjects, are discarded in the sewers. Using these materials I built a home for my new family, such as I could. I named the four Turtles after my favorite Western philosophers; Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael.
Initially so they could defend themselves I trained them in the art of Ninjutsu. However overtime it became painfully obvious that the world above was full of cruelty and injustice. Using their skills my sons have become crime fighters. Their first outing happened entirely by accident they came across a mugging while awaiting a pizza delivery, having become fond of the Italian dish when I found several discarded pizzas near a manhole one day. Making quick work of the attackers my sons were filled with an intense sense of pride. Soon unable to curtail my sons' above ground actives, I instead embraced them.
I know someday soon our existence will be learned by the world above. It is inevitable. I only hope when the day arrives we shall be ready.
To Be Continued
Footnote original concept by co-author CMR Rosa. CMR Rosa also provided invaluable assistance with story development.
Teresa Parker is based upon a semi-Canonical character that appeared in the Spider-Man graphic novel: Family Business. Teresa was supposedly born to CIA agents Richard and Mary Parker, Peter Parker's long dead parents, sometime after Peter a fact she claimed that she only recently learned.