(I'm back. I'm sorry for my unfaithfulness, baby. I'll be better. Also check out Jack Wilkins' album, Windows. That's pretty much the mood I go for when I write.)
GIANT-SIZE: The Spider-Man!
Chapter 2
September 3rd, 1962
"Sorry"
Peter looked up from his chemistry textbook and smiled at the girl sitting across from him. "I'm okay, Liz." The boy whispered, "I'm fine, nothing even happened." A sudden SHH was delivered by the seemingly omnipresent librarian, causing the two to slightly duck their head and wince. "I know, but still.. Flash is bothering you because of me," The blond haired girl known as Liz whispered back, "We're not even doing anything, we're just studying." Liz continued. The girl had her head rested on her palm as she leaned slightly over her text book. She had a slight pout on her face as she waited for Peter's response. The boy placed his textbook on the table to give his undivided attention to the girl, "I can take care of myself Liz, Promise." He paused as he felt his heart rate slightly rise, "... I know you two, like each other. But.. I-I really like spending time with you." Liz felt her heart skip a beat, and there was another pregnant pause. "I mean as friends," the brown haired teen quickly clarified, "I mean I appreciate our friendship." He continued. "Oh of course. Yeah." Liz responded with a small laugh, "Yes, me too." The blonde finished with a smile. Another loud shush quieted the two and focused them back into their studies.
September 7th, 1962
"It's pretty crazy how you toss those guys around, like they're nothin'," Peter, still dressed in his Spider-Man alter-ego, turned towards the voice addressing him. "Uh, yeah. It's what I do." He said casually, slowing down his stride so the man could catch up to him. Peter silently studied the man as he approached him. He was a middle-aged white guy, slightly balding. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead that made his already pale skin extra glossy. His gut protruded over his belt, and his gray button up had a small smear of something reddish-brown on the right sleeve. The man looked extremely nervous nervous talking to the masked teenager. "They, uh. They pay you pretty good, huh?" The nervous man asked as he reached in his back pocket. There was a pause. "I hope you aren't trying to rob me, because a gun wont do anything but make me mad." The smirk could almost be heard audibly in the masked man's voice. The sweaty nervous man opposing him took a slight step back, his face pailing as he tried to explain himself, "N-no I just-" "Nah I'm just messing with ya buddy!" Spider-Man chuckled, cutting the nervous man off. "What is it, you want a autograph or something?" The red and blue figure inquired. The man being questioned didn't answer, and instead shakily reached in his back pocket pulling out a small stack of bills rubber banded together, "what- what are you doing?" Peter asked the man, who silently continued to pull out more bills stashed away in his clothing. "I'm in trouble, Spider-man," the man started, "I lost something, that belongs to this guy I know," The man ran his hand over his scalp, slicking the few hairs on the top of his head down with sweat. "I lost a package I supposed to deliver and I need you to get it." He then started to frantically wave the money at the masked figure, "I'll pay you however much." The balding man pleaded. "I-I dont know-" Peter stammered, "I can give you two-hundred and fifty, RIGHT now and a additional three-hundred once you get it." The man begged, cutting the teenager off. "I, uh price is-" The man cut off the masked figure once again, "not enough? Fuck! Look, three-hundred right here, and another when you bring it to me. That's all I have. Please, Spider-Man." The intense look of desperation on the man's face made the younger male feel extremely uncomfortable, and for a brief second the older man's panic threatended to take over him as well. "This… This thing you lost," The teenager slowly started, "It would be… Bad.. For it to fall in police hands, correct?" The older man hesitantly nodded, "and… are the police looking for you?" The older man shook his head no, "Or the package?" The older man once again shook his head no. Parker stared at him silently for a second before taking the money out of the older man's hands. He quickly counted the money, "This is only two hundred and fifty dollars, where's the other fifty?" The sweaty nervous man reached down rolled up his pants leg and pulled out an additional amount of cash that was tucked away in his sock. "Sorry, sorry." The man said ducking his head slightly, "Dont worry about it." Peter said as he tucked the money into the coat he had on over his suit, "So, where am I going and what am I looking for?"
'I should tell the police.' Peter thought as he pressed the basement button on the elevator. 'I should tell a adult.' He felt hot, his stomach was weak, and the elevator ride towards the boiler room exacerbated his nervous stomach. In a attempt to settle his nausea, the teenager pulled his mask off and took in deep breaths. "Why did I take that money?!" The teenager asked himself aloud, "I don't need it, I just-" He brought his hands to his face. "It was there." Peter wanted to scream, his greediness is what put him in this situation. The elevator dinged to alert the teenager that he had arrived to his destination and the doors slid open. The stench of mildew and rusty pipes greeted him as he stepped out of the elevator, mask still in hand. He stood there in the basement and stared intently at the mask, as if it would answer him. Of course, there was nothing. There was no answer or advice waiting to greet him, so after another minute of staring at his mask, he pulled the cloth back over his face. "I'll do this one, just to get it over with." He quickly reasoned to himself, "If I get it quick, then I won't have to worry about anything."
When Peter had last had the chance to check the time, it was close to 11:30. And as the teenager sat in the shadows of a cheap apartment only lit by the street lights outside, he knew that he had been waiting to ambush the stranger in their own home for at least an hour. The nausea he had felt earlier that night had died down, but the adrenaline in his blood made him feel as if his senses were dialed to 11. Upon sneaking into the home, the teenager had completely destroyed the bedroom window, much to his surprise. And on his way out of the bedroom, Peter accidentally ripped the door off its hinges. The adrenaline made him feel as if he had first gotten his powers again, and as a result, he knew he had to try and calm himself to keep the robbery from turning into a homicide. Getting tired of his position in the shadows, he stood up and stretched his cramped muscles. He then removed his mask, and his nose was immediately greeted to the dingy odors of the home that had been dampened by the fabric on his face. "Aunt May and Uncle Ben are gonna kill me when I get home…" Peter said quietly to himself as leaned against the living room wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands on his head as he began to realise the fact that he was legitimately in a stranger's home waiting to ambush them while dressed in a spider costume. As the young man began to sink into an existential crisis, it was quickly interrupted when he felt the strongest buzzing sensation in his head since obtaining his abilities. He abruptly pulled the mask onto his head and hopped to the ceiling, instinctively crawling on all fours to the darkest corner of the apartment's small living room. 'There's three, no, four of them.' The masked teenager thought to himself from the shadows, 'Coming down the hallway.' Parker could hear their muffled speech through the flimsy apartment walls, and his senses told him that they were heading for the room he was currently in. His breath quickened, his muscles tightened, and he suddenly realised that his senses had taken over. His eyes widened as he heard the key enter the lock on the front door, 'i'll let them come in, and web them up them up with the web shooters.' he thought as the door creaked open.
"Yeah, Frankie got clipped when I was gettin' this shit."a male's voice said as he entered the apartment. "That's crazy, man." A second male voice behind him chimed in, "Never expected him to catch a bullet, of all people." The second voice continued. The first man who entered the apartment clicked on the lightswitch, suddenly filling the space with artificial light. "Yeah, I know right?" The first voice said as he made his way towards the small kitchen in the same room, "He was the best shot out of all of us, hones- What the fuck?!" He said as he noticed a red and blue cladded figure in the opposing corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling. The red and blue figure did not respond and simply pointed his hand at the first voice, firing something from his wrist. The projectile hit him straight in the eyes, blinding him and knocking him to the floor. The first voice screamed in terror as he pulled at the sticky substance on his eyes, trying to regain his sight. Three more figures quickly rushed into the apartment upon hearing the cries of distress of their friend. The first who entered was nailed in the head with the same projectile, the velocity also throwing him off balance to the floor, causing the small firearm in his hand to fire. The masked figure tried to fire the projectile from their wrist again, and cursed when nothing happened. The last two who entered the apartment quickly located the masked figure and readied their small firearms to open fire at the individual. The red and blue cladded figure leapt from the ceiling at the two, and in a flash quickly tackled one to the ground. The last one standing pointed his hand gun at the figure on top of his friend, fear pulsing through his body. The red and blue figure delivered two blows so strong that the last man standing could feel the vibrations of the hits through the floor. "Oh shit." The last man gasped out, as he shakily continued to point his gun at the masked figure. The masked figure, who seemingly had gotten caught up in the beating he was delivering to the man underneath him, quickly sprang off said man pining the last one to the wall by the throat. "W-wha-" The man being pinned to the wall choked out, causing the masked individual to press on his windpipe harder. The man being held leg's began to thrash as the lack of oxygen began to set in, and the masked figure seemingly became aware of what he was doing, and released him. The man let out a pained grunt when he hit the floor, and began rubbing his sore throat as the masked individual continued to stand over him. "T-The package!" The red and blue figure inquired, "Where is the package?!" The man on the floor glanced at the figure standing over him and let out a shuddery gasp. "Mu-My frie-friend," he started "Isson him!" he continued. "Get it! Grab it" The masked figure barked out aggressively at him. The man didn't bother standing, and crawled over to his to unfortunate compatriot who had received the beating from the masked individual. As he made his way over to his friend, he let out a gasp upon seeing the bloody state of his face. "Jesus christ." he said quietly to himself. "Shut up! Grab it, now!" The masked figure barked. The man quickly reached into his friends jacket and pulled out an manilla folder, "Is that it?" The masked man asked, "that's the package, right?" The man kneeling on the floor nodded hesitantly, "Hand it here, now!" The masked individual ordered. The kneeling man complied to the orders, and the red and blue cladded figure snatched the folder out of his hands. The two stared in silence at each other for a moment before the red and blue clasped figure ran to the other side of the room and jumped out of the window without opening it.
September 8th, 1962
After delivering the package to the man from the arena and getting paid, Peter Parker arrived to his home at 3:14 in the morning, sneaking in his room through the window. After counting his loot from the night, he added the money the fat balding man had paid him to the rest of his stash. Wanting to keep his mind busy, he dumped the bag he kept his money in on the floor, deciding that it was the best time go ahead and count all the money he had currently made. The process took him ten minutes. It took him thirty minutes to clean the glass out of his Spider-Man costume, and another fifteen to sew up the rips from jumping out of the window. Once his suit was 'repaired', he focused on trying to figure why his web shooter had jammed. The teenager discovered that the solution was too thick, and it couldn't be focused through the modified timepiece. Parker then deduced that he would either need better hardware or a different solution if his web shooters were going to work. Figuring that out took him five minutes. Once he had nothing else to do, Peter sat on the edge of his bed, fingers gripping the sheets. He let out shuddery sigh as he the events that had played out earlier that night replayed in his mind's eye, practically feeling his fist crash into the man's face again. He felt fear from the fact that he could have gotten shot, he felt angry at the men for raising their gun to shoot him, and he felt horrified and surprised that he actually went through with the job. But what shocked the teenager the most was the fact that a part of him actually enjoyed what had happened. And upon the realization of what he was feeling, Parker buried his face in his hands, knowing he'd probably do something similar again.