Far above the busy Manhattan streets, a commonplace trademark is shouted from a not-so-common man:
"Here comes your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man!"
Observe this man, noble and pure of heart, and easily one of the greatest heroes the world has known. Young Peter Parker, once bitten by a radioactive spider that endowed him with powers beyond belief, steadily grew to overcome persecution at the hands of his fellow citizens and become a success both in his personal life and his heroic career.
Even now, as we witness him swing on a webline of his own creation, a chemical concoction that his impressive intellect was able to produce, any observer might recognize the carefree attitude with which he moves. The traits of a spider, passed on through a seemingly innocent bite, allow him acrobatic skill that would make the world's foremost circus performers blush.
Regardless of the fact that his own employer, one J. Jonah Jameson, tirelessly slanders his alter ago, thus making him a fugitive on more than one occasion, Peter Parker continues to fight the good fight. His optimism perseveres even though his luck has not always been admirable. Despite being generally despised amongst his fellow New Yorkers, Spider-Man nightly dons his colorful uniform and throws himself into danger because of one single reason: responsibility.
But is it destiny, or a simple twist of fate that placed Peter Parker on the path of righteousness? There are few in this universe who could answer that question, but I, Uatu, commonly known as the Watcher, have the means and opportunity to see that which almost was.
I have seen the many paths that Peter Parker could take, but there is one that is both enlightening and disturbing at the same time. I ask you…
What if Spider-Man had been a villain?
Written by D. Golightly
"Out of the way, Puny Parker!"
The teenage science student, Peter Parker, was shoved to the ground by another student that had plagued him since his pre-high school days. Flash Thompson was the school quarterback, loved by all, and ever mindful of his own appearance. The textbooks that Peter had been carrying crashed in a heap, some of which slid into a pool of mud beside the sidewalk.
"Ah, c'mon, Flash..." Peter muttered, making sure that he didn't whine loud enough for Flash to actually hear him.
This familiar scene marks the beginning of a hero for those who are well-versed in the history of Peter Parker. Outside of a science research center that his class took a field trip to, Peter Parker, Flash Thompson, and the rest of their fellow classmates began to funnel into the building. Peter picked up his dropped books, all the while staring at the pair of cheerleaders that accompanied Flash.
He resented Flash, of course, having been bullied by him for years. But Peter had been taught early on in his life to turn the other cheek, and with the wisdom that his aunt and uncle had conveyed upon him while growing up, Peter knew that there were more important things in life than obsessing or holding grudges.
Peter entered the facility, now at the back of the class thanks to Flash. He pushed his way through the crowd and followed their tour guide into the facility. After a few mundane exhibits, the class was welcomed into an observation area where they would actually get to witness an experiment in radioactivity.
It was for this experiment that Peter had been excited about coming. His interests in this particular area of research were higher than others, and he hoped to build his senior thesis on what he saw here today.
Little did he or anyone else realize that Peter Parker would actually become the experiment. Unknown to those operating the equipment, a small spider had gotten in the way of the radioactive testing. Just before the spider died, it managed to jump onto Peter's hand and thrust its fangs into the back of his hand.
"Ow!" Peter exclaimed, distracting several of the closest students from the experiment. He looked at his hand, seeing the spider fall of to the floor, dead.
"Shut up, Parker!" whispered one of them.
"Can't you be quiet?" another said.
"Sorry guys...I...I, uh..." For some reason Peter began to feel dizzy. He swayed a bit before succumbing to the nausea that suddenly hit him, and fell to the floor himself.
"Ha!" Flash laughed. "Puny Parker can't even stomach this science stuff!" The rest of the class joined Flash in his laughter, a general grumble of mockery sweeping over them for a brief moment.
Peter managed to stand up and he stumbled out of the lab, into the lobby. His vision was becoming blurry and he felt like he was going to pass out. He wondered what was happening to him and if it had anything to do with the spider bite...
It was at this point in the story that the seeds for Peter's heroic career were first planted. In your reality, Peter would have saved a man from being hit by a car, discovering his newfound strength and agility. In this reality, however, Peter decided to sit down on the curb instead of wandering down the street. For whatever reason, be it a change in the wind or a ray of sun in his eyes, Peter Parker missed his first opportunity to save a life.
A few moments later the front doors to the facility opened again and the class began to pour back out. "There he is!"" Flash called out as he pointed to the ill Peter. "Thanks a lot, Parker. The teacher said because you got sick we all have to head back early. Now I have to take Nicholson's biology test that I should have missed because of this."
Peter tried to stand up, but a quick jab to the shoulder by Flash forced him back down. The girls accompanying Flash giggled, and one, a blonde that went by the name of Christy, bent down close to Peter's face. "Do you want me to kiss it and make it all better?" she asked before laughing in his face again.
The students boarded the bus that had brought them, and Peter reluctantly got on board. He swung into an empty seat and waited to be taken back to the school.
Peter barely paid attention during the bus ride back to their high school. He was much more focused on the strange feeling that was slowly overcoming his senses. The back of his hand barely hurt now, but what alarmed him was the foreign tingling sensation buzzing in the back of his head.
Several hours later, Peter closed his locker after retrieving his backpack that he had filled to the brim with textbooks he would need while tutoring at the library that evening. He had stayed late in order to help prepare the chemistry lab for tomorrow's morning classes, ever-willing to obtain extra credit for so simple a task. He exited the school and planned to walk home, given that the night air was cool and comfortable. A silent moon hung overhead, watching gracefully while he began his trek.
"Hey, Parker!"
Peter felt the tingling sensation from earlier build up in his head again. It was disorienting at first, but it somehow seemed less invasive than before. He stopped walking and turned to see Flash Thompson staring him down at the end of the block, leaning against the street lamp. His stomach flipped over and he gulped, wishing that he had called his uncle for a ride home.
"Are you deaf or something now?" Flash asked as he pushed off the lamppost and stalked toward Peter. "For someone so brainy you sure are stupid. What you got in the bag, Puny Parker?"
Peter was frozen in place, afraid that if he ran Flash would just tackle him to the ground and begin beating him. The high school football star snatched Peter's bag away from him, unzipping it and allowing the contents to spill onto the sidewalk. Something inside Peter snapped, and before he knew what he was doing, he found his fist locked around Flash's wrist.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Parker?" Flash exclaimed. He tried to shake his wrist free but was shocked at Peter's resignation to not let go. "You think you're some kind of tough guy now, is that it? I was just going to mess with you a little on my way to Joanna's house, but now you're pissing me off."
Flash tried to rip his wrist out of Peter's grip but was shocked that he was unable to. Peter clenched his fingers and began to bruise the jock's skin. All the while the buzzing in the back of his head continued.
"Let go."
"I've put up with a lot from you over the years," Peter replied, ignoring his demand. "I've got news for you, Flash. I don't feel so puny anymore."
Peter twisted his hand quickly, forcing Flash's to turn with it. The high school football star screamed in pain as his wrist bent the wrong way, snapping it out of place. He looked into the eyes of who he assumed was a bookworm, only to become increasingly scarred when he noticed how wide they were open.
Peter shoved Flash back into an alley, knocking him back over a pair of garbage cans. All of the rage that Peter had fought down came to the surface and he ground his teeth as he eyed up his prey, so innocent and so unable to protect itself. He remembered the sensibilities that his aunt and uncle had taught him, and brashly ignored them. Letting his anger get the best of him felt good, too good to let go.
In your world, where Peter had saved his first life on this day, in this world he instead took his first life.
A few hours later Peter found himself wandering aimlessly in downtown New York City. The rush of the traffic and the crowds around him allowed the young student to loose himself. The strength that had flowed through him while he beat the helpless Flash Thompson was all he could think about. It was uncanny, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was power, seemingly infinite and strangely foreign.
"Look out, buddy!"
Peter, lost in his thoughts, felt the raging buzzing in the back of his head grow until he reacted as if on reflex. He leapt out of the way of a bicycle messenger, who had decided to take the sidewalk on his route instead of the gridlocked street. The messenger sped by while the crowd looked on. Peter let out a deep breath he had taken in from the surprise of nearly being run over, only to now notice that the dozen people standing on the sidewalk were staring straight at him.
"What's wrong? I…I…oh, my God…"
In his haste to get out of the way, encouraged by the tingling sensation that had somehow been able to guide him away from the danger, Peter had jumped. Straight up. Twenty-five feet. He found himself hanging from a neon sign that protested the great price of pizza within the establishment and looked again at the palm of his hand, which was somehow clinging to the underside of the sign.
And so it began on this world, the world that typically only one of my ilk would be able to gaze upon. Peter Parker slowly discovered his powers and realized that with his newfound power also came great opportunity. He now had the ability to stand up for himself and take what he wanted. Despite the care he received from his loving aunt and uncle on this world, just as he had on yours, there was something inherently different about his perceptions on life.
Within a week he began to test the limits of his powers. The police never suspected him in the murder of his fellow student and he became arrogant, reasoning that he was now above the law. The world was indeed his oyster.
He became more and more daring in his tests, devising that his powers must have come from the irradiated spider bite. He created a solution that could mimic the spider's silk and swung about the city, enjoying his increased reflexes, strength, and nimbleness. During the day he attended school like any other teenager, then enjoyed a nice meal with his family, and then nightly he would slip out to commit some crime to feel the rush of adrenaline.
On one such night two weeks later Peter swung across downtown and noticed a billboard promoting an open wrestling match. It was at this event in your world that Peter thought to test his powers, and so it was in this dimension also. Although, regrettably, the outcome was vastly different.
"Who can take down the mighty monarch of manliness, Crusher Hogan?"
The ring announcer did his job well at bringing the crowd to its collective feet. The contest, held in a seedier part of New York, was to last just three minutes in the ring with the famed wrestler. The cash prize was trivial compared to what the already infamous Spider-Man could take on his own. It was the test he was after, the test of his own strength. He was becoming more bold on a nightly basis, and the desire to outshine his former introverted personality was stronger than he dared admit.
Standing in the center of the ring was the wrestler Hogan, a superficial pinnacle of human achievement. This man, in a way, represented everything that Peter could never hope to be before he was fatefully bitten by a spider. He unconsciously hated him for that and was looking forward to flexing his newfound power.
The ring announcer continued to introduce that night's challenger. "Could it be the strange, the mysterious, the terrifying…Spider-Man?"
The curtain at the top of the entrance ramp parted and the spotlight illuminated Peter, now dressed in a dark costume. In your world Peter had chosen a vastly different design, one of red and blue that mimicked his new carefree attitude. However, the seeds of dark intent had already sprouted in this world's Peter and his costume reflected that. The close-knit costume was a drab black except for a large white spider design across his chest, and large exaggerated white eyes across his mask.
The rumors of extraordinary robberies across the city had not yet been linked by the police, and had especially not been connected to a single person with amazing powers. Therefore the crowd had no need to fear this Spider-Man…yet. As the light shown on him it was the first glance that the world had of this dangerous person, and they were fascinated.
The cheering filled the auditorium and Crusher Hogan motioned for the challenger to approach. Spider-Man walked confidently to the ring, flexing his fingers and scrunching them into fists.
"It's about time I had a real challenge," Spider-Man said as he stepped into the ring.
"Three minutes is an awfully long time, little man!" the wrestler shot back.
"You won't even lay a finger on me, lady."
The announcer motioned to ring the bell, but the wrestler, agitated by Spider-Man's comments, had already leapt across the mat. His huge arms reached for the wallcrawler, but Spider-Man's agility was too great. Peter easily slipped underneath the wrestler's grasp, spinning to one side and lashing out with a quick kick to his left knee.
"Ahhh!" Hogan screamed in pain. The wrestler felt the agony of his kneecap shattering to pieces as a result of Spider-Man's kick. He slumped to one side, muttering, "You freakshow!"
Spider-Man flipped ten feet in the air to land perfectly in front of Crusher Hogan, undaunted. "Be honest," Spider-Man said. "Are you freaked out…or scared?"
With a right cross Spider-Man knocked Crusher Hogan out cold. The wrestler's breathing slowed to a crawl as he fell unconscious and the crowd was roaring wildly, eating up the insane action unfolding.
"Uh…" The ring announcer had just sat down a few seconds ago, anticipating a moment to relax before he had to work again. Working his way between the ring's ropes, he yelled into the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen! The astounding, stupdenous, amazing Spider-Man!"
Basking in his unrivaled speed and strength, Spider-Man bathed in the cheers of the crowd. He propped himself in one of the ring's corners and raised his arms, soaking in their admiration.
"And will the money-holder please come to the center of the ring!" the announcer stated after a moment, allowing the theatrics to play out. "To our latest challenger goes the sum of three thousand dollars, making him the latest champion in our contest of strength!"
A small man with a cash box entered the ring, carrying a metal lockbox. Spider-Man stepped down from the ropes and met them in the center. As soon as he drew close enough, he stuck out his wrist and coated the man's face with webbing. He snatched the lockbox out of the small man's hands, shoving him over.
"Why settle for three grand when I can just take the one pot?" he remarked to the shock of the announcer and the crowd. "See ya, suckers!"
Spider-Man extended his arm and fired another wad of webbing at the ceiling, pulling himself up into the air as soon as it latched on. He spun a second web, using it to change his trajectory and swing out through a window near the ceiling of the gymnasium, smashing the glass as he kicked through.
Aside from small differences, this part of the story is remarkably the same as it would be on your Earth. True, Spider-Man entered the contest under different reasons, but that would not change the reasons that other people had to be there that night. For example, the thief that had planned to rob the money-holder later that evening, after Spider-Man had defeated Crusher Hogan, no longer had a reason to try. The money was gone, stolen away by the very costumed man that on your world would have stepped aside after the crime was committed.
This thief, of course, was the same thief that in your dimension had fled the arena and in an attempt to flee, shot and killed Peter's beloved Uncle Ben. Yes, dear reader, by so brashly stealing the cash holdings himself that night, Peter Parker saved his Uncle's life.
Weeks passed. Spider-Man's crime spree continued almost nightly while Peter Parker's personal life became more and more enriched with the precious things he stole. His spider-sense alerted him to whenever a police officer was around a corner, or when a security camera was sweeping over the spot he crouched in. With his agility and strength he was the ultimate thief, stealing away jewels, diamonds, gold, and whatever else his heart desired.
It wasn't until Peter picked up the latest edition of the Daily Bugle that he thought himself feared throughout the city.
"What the hell is this?" he blurted out after reading a headline that said 'SPIDER-MAN – COWARD!'
He caught his reflection in the newsstand window. He wore a black, leather jacket, dark denim jeans, and slim sunglasses. His shirt was tight enough to show off his physique and he carried himself like a person you wouldn't want to insult. How could anyone think that he was a coward? If anyone was a coward it was the person who wrote this article.
"The publisher of this trashrag wrote this, huh?" Peter said after he flipped to the first page and skimmed over the article that the headline referred to. "Nice to meet you, J. Jonah Jameson. I hope this editorial isn't the last thing you're offering this world."
Without wasting any time, Peter slipped into the alley beside the newsstand and shed his clothing, revealing the slick, black Spider-Man costume beneath. He sprung up ten feet in the air and clung to the wall, proceeding to the top. A moment later he was swinging on a series of weblines and headed for the offices of the Daily Bugle, ignoring the afternoon sun that dissolved the darkness he was accustomed to.
Hr covered the eighteen blocks quickly since he didn't have to deal with the insane traffic below. He perched outside of a window and peered into the offices of the Daily Bugle, looking in on people that in a different scenario he would have counted as friends. Robbie Robertson, Betty Brant, Ben Urich, and countless staffers.
"Hey, Betty," he heard a broadshouldered man say as he approached the cute secretary sitting outside the largest office. "We still on for tonight?"
"You bet, Eddie. You better not get cold feet. I had to pull a favor to get us this reservation tonight."
"There's nothing in this world that could keep me away, Betty."
Yes, your assumption as to the identity of this man is correct. Eddie Brock, destined in your world to become one of Peter Parker's most bitter and dangerous enemies, is instead untouched by hatred. Without Peter as a professional rival at the Daily Bugle, Eddie Brock would never tread down the path that led to his becoming merged with the dark symbiote to create the vicious Venom. Since Spider-Man is not a hero on this world, he was never driven to participate in the Secret Wars that also indirectly created Eddie's alter-ego. Instead, Eddie Brock has found love and peace in his life.
Still watching intently from outside the window, Spider-Man noticed the etching on the door behind Betty read 'JAMESON – PUBLISHER.' Smirking beneath his mask, Spider-Man crawled around the side of the building, eager to dish out some retribution to the publisher for smearing his name.
Readying his fist, Spider-Man was prepared to smash through Jameson's window and web up the publisher. He toyed with the idea of hanging him from forty stories above the city and watching him squirm. With the kind of power he had, he could do just about anything and get away with it, proving he wasn't a coward.
But just before he let his fist fly, the quiet tingling in the back of his head blared into a full alarm, disorienting him momentarily. He hadn't anticipated being in danger in the middle of the bright afternoon and was forced to hesitate as he looked around to find the source of the alarm.
Something white struck his face, knocking him away from the window. He released his grip on the brick wall and allowed himself to fall down to the next floor, again latching on with his spider grip. The white thing, a stick of some sort, lashed back through the air, pulled by a thick cable that was attached to the bottom of it. He followed it back to the roof where he saw someone standing against the sunny backdrop, which created a red aura thanks to the rays of light.
"I'll give you one chance to say your prayers," Spider-Man said as he rubbed his chin. "Make them good, because they'll be the only message your maker gets after I'm through with you."
The man who had thrown the stick…no, the club, stepped out of the sun's direct light and crouched down over the edge of the roof. "I've been looking for you for a long time, Spider-Man," he said. His voice was rough, like gravel. Now that he was out of the direct sun, Peter could see that his attacker was rearing a suit as red as blood, with a pair of stylized 'D's in the center on his chest. The strangest thing about his appearance was the pair of horns atop his brow that made him look like something from beyond the grave.
"And you would be?"
"Daredevil. I had a friend of mine at the Bugle got Jameson to publish that headline. I figured it would draw a cocky cowboy like you out."
"Pretty big bet you took doing that."
"I like to gamble."
Spider-Man, enraged at having been manipulated so easily, leapt straight off of the wall and into the open air. He spun a web onto the cornerstone of the building and swung around the side, kicking his legs out for momentum. At the speed he was moving, there would be no way for this Daredevil character to move out of the way in time to avoid him when he reached his apex.
Spider-Man yanked down on his webline, streaking tightly around the edge of the building and swinging nearly upside down as he broke over top of the horizon that was the roof ledge. His feet were aimed exactly where the man in red had been standing, only Spider-Man was now surprised to see that the man had vanished.
"No one moves that fast!" Spider-Man shouted. "Impossible!"
The white billy-club slapped across his face again, but this time it was held in place by a red-gloved hand. "I heard you had some kind of a sixth sense," Daredevil said as he followed up the hit with a second. "The guys on the force said you move like you know something's coming, even before it happens. I've got sort of a sixth sense too. Helps me map things out, even if you duck behind the side of a building."
Spider-Man caught the third strike by Daredevil's wrist and shifted his weight. His incredible strength propelled Daredevil across the rooftop and against a stairwell door. "Looks like you've done a little research on me. I'm flattered."
"I always do my homework when I take on scum," Daredevil shot back. "I've been tracking you throughout the city ever since you started up. It was when you pulled a job in Hell's Kitchen that you really got my attention."
"The Kitchen? That shit-hole?" Spider-Man danced underneath a running kick that Daredevil threw at him, somersaulting head over heels until he latched onto the side of a storage shed with the soles of his feet after delivering a kick that knocked Daredevil to his knees. "I did that place a favor by bringing some class to the lowlifes that call that place home."
Spider-Man pushed off of the shed, launching himself straight at Daredevil. The man in red hadn't yet gotten back up and he was facing the opposite direction. He was a sitting duck as far as Spider-Man was concerned. His spider-sense told him to not attack directly, but his own cockiness detracted from the warning. Against his instinct, he flew straight for Daredevil, planning to wrap his fingers around the vigilante's neck and wring the life out of him.
But again Spider-Man had underestimated his foe. Daredevil moved as if he had eyes in the back of his head, swinging his billy-club up at the last instant and catching Spider-Man just under his chin. The force of the blow rattled Spider-Man down through his spine, and when he hit the rooftop he was already slipping into unconsciousness.
When he awoke again he had been stripped of his black mask. His wrists were in handcuffs and he was being carted off in the back of a police van. He smirked and tried to pull the cuffs apart, but found that they were made of something far stronger than ordinary steel. The van bounced down the road with him in the back of it, held in place by a set of metal cables that had been especially fixed to the insides just for him.
As the van passed by underneath a tall building, Peter was able to see through the slits in the back of the van just enough to see a dark figure wearing red looking back at him, watching from a ledge. Rage boiled up inside him and he swore revenge against the hero called Daredevil.
The story of this Peter Parker does not end here, dear reader. No, his trials and tribulations continue on for several more years, which are mostly spent in elaborate schemes at getting revenge against Daredevil.
In your own judgment, which side of the coin would you prefer to land? On one side, there is your world: Peter Parker is a hero, yet his own inception spawns deadly villains. On the other side, there is this world: Peter Parker is a villain, but the life of his uncle is spared. Which side of that fateful coin would you choose?
But fear not, reader, for the weight of such a decision will never have to rest on your shoulders. That is why I, Uatu, shall forever man my post as the Watcher.
END