Niklas "Hawk" Jonsson
Summary: Peter Parker, one of SHIELD's finest, is a part-time gadgeteer in SHIELD's R&D Department, trying to cope with a demanding job at the same time as he attends school. Then, on top of all this, he also winds up getting bitten by a radioactive spider! Oh, what is a teenaged SHIELD agent to do, when he starts to develop superhuman powers! Perhaps he can confide in his friend Agent Romanov? Agent Natalia Romanova, AKA The Black Widow?
Disclaimer: Spiderman, the characters and whatnot are not mine, though I certainly wish they were The story is mine though, all mine. This series deals with mature subject matters and violence. If this disturbs you, don't read. But if it does, then why the heck are you watching the show/reading the comic/watching the movie in the first place?
If the layout looks screwy or symbols seems to be missing, you're probably reading the quickedit-mangled version of this fic on ff dot net, if it grates on your nerves too much, read it on hawksgalaxy dot com or something.
Feedback/Flames: Yes, please. Both of them are equally fun to read, although I must admit that I greatly prefer the first variety. :)
I can be found on ICQ as 21771860, MSN Messenger/E-mail as iamhawk at yahoo dot com, though not very frequently as real life lately interferes with my online existance more then I'd like. More stories are available at my nifty lil' site at hawksgalaxy dot com or by clicking on my handle up above.
"speech"
emphasis/shouts/Kindred Domination/post-hypnotic triggers
/thoughts/
/telepathy/
translation
+soundeffect/radio/telephone conversation/TV+
"I'm home." Peter called out as he entered the house, being greeted by the delightful smell of freshly baked cookies.
"Hi, Peter." Aunt May called from the kitchen.
"How was work?" Uncle Ben added from the den, the TV giving off some background noise.
"Oh, same old, same old." Peter replied. They knew what he worked for, they both had to sign a special release form before he could start since he was too young, but he couldn't really tell them what he did for SHIELD. More of that top-secret need-to-know nonsense that he always got shoved down his throat.
Not that they would understand most of what he did even if he told them, but it would have been nice to at least have that option. On days like this, when he'd have to actually explain a weapon that he had helped build to someone who was likely to use it, the need to talk with someone became almost overwhelming. Luckily, he had another session with Doctor Eriksen scheduled for tomorrow. The good doctor would have to do.
"Have you done your homework?" Aunt May asked.
"Yes, Auntie May." Peter replied, heading into the den where he flopped down into the sofa, joining Uncle Ben in front of the TV. "How's it hanging, Uncle B?" Peter asked as he prepared himself to enjoy a calm and relaxing evening at home, away from the stress of school and work.
"What's the matter, Peter? Weren't you the one who was looking forward to this when we were supposed to go half a year ago? You moped around for weeks after the trip was cancelled and now that we're here, you seem bored out of your mind." Harry inquired, looking over with some concern at the bored-looking super nerd by his side.
"Heh." Peter chuckled sheepishly. Half a year ago, he would have been all gaga over what he saw here. But after coming to work for SHIELD, he got to work with state of the art technology on a nearly daily basis. Most of what he used in his day-to-day work was more advanced then what he was looking at right now. "Sorry, drifted off there for a while." Peter stated, then started to feign interest in his surroundings.
A feigned interest, which soon grew into a real one, as their guide started giving them a layman's introduction. Some of what they were working on actually sounded pretty interesting. He shifted the camera he was carrying around and snapped off a few shots. While he only rarely had the time for it these days, he was still a photographer for the school paper and they'd asked him to take a few pictures while he was here.
Quite a few of the pictures he took just 'happened' to include Mary Jane Watson, purely by coincidence of course.
/Yeah, come on... Move just a little bit to the left so the light hits you just... Yeah, just like that./ Peter thought and took another picture of MJ. That one would go into his private collection. For a few moments, he wondered if Widow would let him take a few pictures of her. She was like a fully matured version of MJ and she had a gorgeous facial structure and bodily features. She'd make an awesome model.
"Hey, look at that!"
"Did you bring a pet, Parker?"
"Yikes!" Harry exclaimed, leaping away from Peter with a disgusted expression.
"Huh?" Peter exclaimed, looking around in bewilderment as his mind emerged from pondering the two red-heads in his life and how much he'd like to photograph them, to the excitement that had suddenly broken out all around him.
"Peter! You've got a spider on your hand!" Harry exclaimed and pointed. Peter moved the camera down and spotted the spider, sitting on the back of his left hand.
"Woha!" Peter exclaimed and shook his hand, thereby angering the spider and triggering the event which we're now all familiar with. "AOWIE!" Peter hollered out as the spider bit him, before he managed to shake it off.
"Yiiiii! Don't fling it at me!" Kong shrieked in a fairly girlish manner, leaping aside as the spider came flying at him.
Splat+
"A dead spider is a good spider." Flash Thompson stated, grinding the spider under the heel of his sneaker. "And what's with the scream, Kong? That was like, so gay, you big girlie-man! And Parker, 'aowie'? 'Aowie'! You two fairies should date." Flash snorted dismissively, then strolled over towards a small group of girls, hoping to impress them with his manly behaviour, as Kong trailed after him, protesting against being called a fairy.
"Hey, Peter. You okay, man? You look a bit pale." Harry inquired, walking over to his still shell-shocked friend.
"Yeah... Yeah..." Peter replied, trembling for a few moments. Beads of sweat were starting to appear and his gaze was unfocused. "I'm fine, I'm just... Peachy..." Peter tried to assure his friend, smiling unsteadily. "OOooh, lookit the pwetty colours..." he finished, then keeled over and fainted, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Peter regained consciousness after a couple of minutes, but was excused from the rest of the trip and a call was made to his Aunt and Uncle to come pick him up. Uncle Ben eventually arrived and he was taken home to rest after his 'ordeal'. He called in sick to work and spent the rest of the day cooped up in his room, mothered mercilessly by Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He assured them that he was fine, ate everything they brought him, asked for more and fell asleep soon after finishing up, completely out for the count.
As he slept, the food was processed, in a vastly different manner from what it usually did inside Peter's body. His DNA was doing the Lambada, the RNA was doing the Tango and great changes were implemented to the sleeping young man. When his Aunt woke him up the day afterwards, he was still feverish and she called his school and work, to let them know that he would be absent for yet another day. He asked for food and he got it, surprising everyone in the house with the amounts he ate.
The next morning, Peter woke up on his own and felt like a million dollars.
"This is... Weird..." Peter muttered, glaring down at the results from the blood test he'd just preformed on himself. Using company resources for personal reasons might not be the most ethical of things to do, but he decided to ignore that for now and instead focus on just what the fuck had happened to him.
While the SHIELD training program had improved matters some, he'd never been what one might call athletic. But now, he was buff! He had a six-pack! His eyes had needed corrective glasses since he was five, but now he had perfect vision without them. And during his required daily work-out, he'd found the weights ridiculously easy to lift, riding the bike hadn't worn him out in the slightest and he'd done the pull-ups one-handedly. Without even breaking a sweat.
He shook his head and brought the papers with him, destroying the blood sample in the incinerator, before heading to the nearest terminal, wanting to check up on if there were any similar recorded cases anywhere in SHIELD's database.
Two hours later, he knew more about the worlds various secret super soldier programs, then he'd ever wanted to know.
He also now knew that Oscorp had been working on just such a program and certain pieces of the mental puzzle he was putting together finally started to make sense. Somehow that spider had injected him with a super-soldier serum. Why Oscorp had let such a valuable specimen run amuck was a bloody mystery, he could only assume that they hadn't been aware that it was roaming free.
Hopefully, that also meant that they didn't know about him being injected with it. But he knew that chances of that were slim, at best. The kid who fell unconscious, would most likely soon be brought to the attention of at least one of the higher ups and if he was unfortunate, that person or persons were aware of Oscorps super solder research.
He shuddered and wondered if he should inform his superiors about this new development. He knew that he was actually required to do so, as this could be a potential threat and Oscorp was under heavy-duty surveillance from SHIELD. But he decided to keep silent for a while longer and to monitor himself very carefully from now on. At the first sign that anything detrimental was happening to him, he was going straight to SHIELD's Bio Med division where he would allow them to poke and prod at him to their little hearts content.
But for now, he had better get back to his station and get some work done, before someone started accusing him of skipping out on work.
"What am I going to do about this crap?" Peter asked himself, once he was back home in his little dungeon. He leaned back on his couch, staring up at the roof. A TV spot earlier had made him consider going into wrestling for a while, but he'd quickly shot that thought down. He got a nice salary from SHIELD, so money wasn't an issue and the notion of fighting in front of an audience wasn't all that appealing. He couldn't try out for the Olympics or anything of the sort, because if he could find the funky crap in his blood, then no doubt it'd show up during blood tests for steroids and result in a lot of very uncomfortable questions that he wouldn't have any good answers for.
He sighed and shook his head, absently listening to the TV in the background when the program was interrupted by a news flash. The Avengers had taken on some schmuck calling himself The Mandarin, saving the day once again. He sighed and turned his attention to the TV, as the beginnings of an idea started to occur to him.
"Peter Parker, superhero..." he mumbled to himself, nodding absently to himself. "The amazing Parker!" he announced to himself, then shook his head. "Mister Incredible? Buzz Tightends? No, sounds like porno names. Captain New York? No, Captain America might sue for copyright infringement." he mumbled to himself, then shook his head. He could come up with a cool name later, first, he needed a suit! All cool superheroes had suits, didn't they?
He brought out a notepad and a pencil, then started doodling. After a few tries, he skipped the cape. Since he couldn't fly, or at least hadn't figured out how to if he could, it would just get in the way. He could stick to walls, however. A very funky ability, but one that might come in handy sometime. The thong was discarded instantly upon drawing it, while Psylocke of the X-Men was hotter then hell, he didn't like the idea of putting himself on display like that. Not to mention that he didn't want people staring at his ass as he walked down the street.
He sighed, after having gone through at least three dozen various outfits and not liking one of them one bit. He thought hard, still doodling, when he looked down at what he had drawn. /Natalia.../ he realized, watching a rather accurate drawing of the woman in question, dressed in her form-hugging suit. He chuckled to himself as he noted that he'd drawn her with slightly larger breasts and wider hips then she actually had. He blinked and jotted down a male version of her suit, putting his head on it.
He shook his head, then added a ski mask. He certainly didn't want people to know who he was!
"The Black Spider?" he muttered to himself, before dismissing the idea. "The Black Widower? No, not good either." he thought, adding a few subtle spider-designs to the suit he'd drawn. "The Man-spider? No, too corny. The Spider? No, lacks a certain something. Spiderman. ... Spiderman... Peter Parker, the incredible Spiderman? Heh, it has a nice ring to it. Spiderman... Amazing... Spectacular. Yeah! The spectacular Spiderman!"
He looked down at the rather messy drawing, then turned to a fresh page and started drawing the suit all over again. Form-hugging, but not as revealing as to make him ashamed of wearing it. A mask, to conceal his identity. A web-pattern and a Spider logotype on his chest. He added Natalias Stingers to his wrist, a tool belt and removed the boots he'd first included. He noticed that he didn't stick to things as well if he was wearing shoes and if he was a Spiderman, then he'd need to be able to climb walls.
With the Stingers, he'd also have a spider's web.
He looked at the picture and smirked. It was perfect!
Now all he had to figure out was how to make the damned thing and then see about arranging some sort of field test, to trot his superhero stuff for the first time.
"AAaaaahhhhhhh!"
THUD+
CRASH+
"Owie..."
"Argh, my leg! What the fuck!"
Tarantula was not a happy camper.
He'd simply been minding his own business, instructing a few henchmen in the dastardly plot that would result in Tarantula becoming a very wealthy man.
He had not expected being bowled over by some screaming freak, slammed into one of the weapon crates and breaking his leg.
Especially not by someone who had fibbed his landing/assault/whatever it was, tumbled over and slammed back-first into another crate, slumping to the floor and rubbing the back of his head. Tarantula slowly got back onto his good leg and glared angrily at the weird-ass interruption, dressed in a form-hugging outfit. Obviously some kind of superhero, though he didn't recognize this one.
Must be someone new. Very new, if the semi-botched entry was any indication.
Though it had succeeded in breaking his leg and from the looks of it, the henchmen had been thrown overboard like pins in a game of bowling as this costumed freaked tumbled across the deck of the freighter.
"Que honda, pajero?" Tarantula spat out, wincing in pain as his broken leg was jolted. /How am I supposed to fight like this/ he mentally wailed.
"Uh... Santa Claus? See? I'm wearing red'n everything!" the figure responded as it got back onto its feet. "This place really needs a chimney, I'm simply not used to entering through a window." it added jokingly.
"Very funny, pringao. I'm going to fuck you up real good, cabron." Tarantula spat out and jumped closer to this fucking wannabe superhero. He wasn't quick, but if he could just get close enough, he could swing out with his broken leg and poison this fucking asshole.
"Well, see now that's just rude. You're going on my naughty list. Nothing but coal and webbing for you this year." the asshole responded, raised his arms and Tarantula just barely had time to yelp before he found himself stuck to the deck of the boat.
"What the hell is this!" he snarled, yanking and straining the best he could, trying to get loose from the sticky webbing that held him in place. "Ow! Joto! Conchate un perro, bujerrone! Ow! Chingate tu madre, chapero! Ow!" he spat out, mixing his curses with exclamations of pain as the pulling of the web jostled his broken leg.
"Well, I'm not quite certain what all of that means, but I'm guessing that it won't get you off my naughty list." the infuriating bastard said, quite smugly as he slowly strolled up closer.
"Who the hell are you?" Tarantula snapped, desperately wishing that he could use his broken leg. If he could just angle his foot and put a little pressure on it, he could cut the web with the dagger on his foot.
"You can tell the police that it was the spectacular Spiderman who caught you." the costumed asshole replied.
"The Spiderman. I will remember that." Tarantula swore. He would remember it. He would remember it and once he got out of prison, he'd look this fucker up and make him pay for this fucking humiliation.
"You do that and remember, be a good little boy in the future so that I can scratch you off my naughty list." Spiderman finished, before he extended his right arm, shot out a thin line of webbing and leapt away, vanishing into the night.
"Owie. Owie. Owie. Owie." Peter whimpered as he slowly stripped out of his costume and seated himself on top of his bed. He obviously still had a lot to learn about how to use those stingers to get around, crashing into Tarantula, the henchmen and that crate on the boat had neither been the first nor the last incident of his first night out. As evidence of that, he had plenty of scrapes and bruises all over his body. It was so much easier to jump from building to building, then to use the net. But it was slow going to jump, using the net was a whole lot faster.
He supposed that he'd get the hang of it eventually, after all, this was the first real field test for him. Widow certainly seemed to have gotten the hang of it over the years, so no doubt he would too.
But for now, he couldn't help but to wonder if he wouldn't be better off trying to learn how to fly or build himself some sort of gadget that would allow him to fly. Some of those bruises hurt like hell!
But these new Stingers... They were fucking awesome! He'd used a payphone to call the cobs after catching Tarantula and he'd stuck around on top of a nearby building waiting to see if they would manage to take that bastard in. They hadn't been able to get him out of the net, instead they had to wait until it dissolved before they could take him in.
He had modified these ones a little bit from the ones Natalia used, softening the sting a bit and he'd tried that one as well, knocking a purse snatcher off his feet. He seemed no worse for the wear afterwards, it was the equivalent of somebody without the proportional strength of a spider punching him. Good for distractions or for taking people out from a distance, without causing too much harm.
He leaned back and rested on top of his bed, looking up at the ceiling.
Despite some minor incidents related to travelling with the web, tonight had been a smashing success. He could be a superhero! He was a superhero!
"I wonder if there's some sort of Union or something I have to join?" Peter wondered out loud and scratched the back of his head. "Do I need to register myself at the post office to get discounts at the dry cleaners, this shtick must be hard as hell on the costumes?" he mused as he glanced over at his dirty and torn costume. Slamming into and scraping against walls at high speeds had just about ruined this one. He would have to make a new one, recovering this was well beyond his meagre abilities.
"I wonder if..." he started, before trailing off. He hadn't told anybody about this yet, he supposed that May and Ben deserved to know, but he wasn't sure how they were going to take it. But if they took it well, he might be able to get Aunt May to help him out with the costumes. He'd obviously need more then one and from the looks of it, they would have to be mended on a fairly regular basis.
Could he tell them? Should he?
He sighed, thoughts like that could wait for a while. He reached down and pushed the torn costume underneath his bed and hid the stingers underneath his pillows, before sliding in underneath the covers. A few hours worth of sleep wouldn't go amiss and he certainly wouldn't mind having a few nice dreams about the two redheads in his life.
The End! ( For now... )
