Author's Notes:

I apologize in the excessive delay in posting this chapter. I've had a rough month, I've been bedridden a lot lately, and I'm suffering a serious bout of creative burnout. As such, this chapter is shorter than I intended by a good 1k words or so. Still, better a shorter chapter than no chapter, right?

Enjoy!

SPEC2CULAR

by Mythril Moth

BOOK ONE: HEROES ON THE RISE

Chapter 4: Dare to be Greater

"We don't throw hand grenades in my neighborhood, pal."

A very athletic man in a dark red bodysuit with a cowl that left only his mouth exposed knelt atop Spider-Man. His cowl had small, curved red horns at the temples and blank white lenses over his eyes, and the chest of his costume sported two interlinked Ds.

Spidey threw the new arrival off and jumped back, landing in a low three-point stance. "Hey, don't tell me, tell Mr. Kill-Happy over there!" he protested, pointing at the Punisher, who was eyeing them both warily, gun drawn and swinging back and forth to cover both of them.

"Oh, I intend to," the new guy said grimly, idly swinging his billy club. "I've been looking for him for days."

"Well there he is, what's stopping—wait, who are you again?"

"Name's Daredevil. Don't go anywhere, Spider-Man...you're next." And with that, Daredevil charged at Punisher, diving out of the way of two gunshots before cracking his club across the back of Punisher's gun hand, sending his weapon sprawling. Punisher dropped back and fell into a judo stance; the two men began trading furious back and forth blows.

Spider-Man shook his head. "And this is why I stay out of Hell's Kitchen..."

In the wake of the Green Goblin incident, it had taken a great deal of legal yoga to avoid having the bulk of the Osborns' personal assets seized. None of which much concerned Harry Osborn, but he was grateful for it as he sat beside Gwen Stacy on a leather sofa that cost more than Peter Parker's entire house, facing an equally expensive giant screen plasma television, watching a movie, the two of them surrounded by snacks and giant sodas.

It sucked that Gwen had insisted on The Wedding Singer, but Harry was willing to let her have one win in their relationship. Even if he was almost positive the choice of movie was a not-so-subtle dig at their situation.

*So I'm Glen and Pete's Robbie, huh? Well, sorry babe, but real life and the movies aren't the same thing. In real life, the Glens always win and the Robbies always lose.*

Gwen sipped at her soda miserably, one eye on the movie, the other on Harry, but her mind clear across town. *I wonder what Peter's up to right now...*

Liz Allan groaned in frustration and flung her math book across her bedroom, then flopped back on her bed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't do this without Petey," she mumbled. She rolled over and looked at a framed photo, next to her bed, of the two of them on one of the few dates they'd had that didn't get interrupted. "Oh, Petey..." She sighed. "I wonder what you're doing right now..."

A blast of webbing struck Punisher in the eyes, staggering him. The distraction was enough to give Daredevil an opening for a solid punch to the ribs, followed by a kick that spun Punisher around, letting him deliver a flurry of lightning jabs to the kidneys. Punisher's armor absorbed enough of the impact that he was only staggered; he drew a knife from his belt and swung around, slashing at Daredevil's face. To his surprise, the sight of a knife coming right at his eyes didn't make Daredevil flinch. Spider-Man, however, was more concerned; a web shot out and grabbed Punisher's wrist, stopping him from cutting a gash through—

—where Daredevil's head had been a split second earlier, as he'd waited until the last moment to duck low and step inside Punisher's guard, delivering a vicious uppercut to his chin and following it with a sweep that dropped him. Punisher growled and rolled away, kipping to his feet and slipping on a pair of electrified brass knuckles while drawing a pistol with his other hand which he began firing blindly at the roof line, hoping to tag Spidey.

"Wow, you like playing with dangerous toys, don't you fella?" Spidey came flying in behind Punisher, kicking him in the back of the head and driving him straight into Daredevil, who went for a series of body blows that juggled Punisher back to Spider-Man, who brought his hands down in an axe-handle smash to the crown of Punisher's head. Punisher snarled and whirled around, taking a swing at Spidey, but Daredevil's club cracked him hard across the knee. Spidey jumped to the side and started firing bursts of webbing at Punisher. Three seconds later, Punisher was completely webbed up, snarling muffled obscenities through a web gag as Spidey hung him from the fire escape. "There, all wrapped up for the cops," he said. "Whew! What a nut."

"Hope they put him in a hole until he rots," Daredevil said. "Some of these kids he's been killing were good kids, they just...hung out with a bad crowd. Can't blame 'em, really." He stretched and sighed. "Sometimes it's safer to be in a gang in this city, especially for minorities."

"I dunno, I don't think I'd want to paint that kind of target on myself," Spidey said.

Daredevil arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? Half of New York wants to put you in a cell right next to this psychopath, and you're talking about walking targets?"

"Fair enough." Spider-Man shuffled his feet awkwardly. "So what now?"

"Now," Daredevil said tiredly, "I go home, you go back to Queens, we call it a night."

Spidey blinked. "How'd you know I'm from Queens?"

"You smell like Queens," Daredevil said. "Well, and the East River, but mostly Queens. I also know you're just a kid—I'd say fifteen, sixteen tops." Daredevil rubbed his shoulder. "To tell the truth, I was planning to leave two surprises for the cops tonight, but...you're like me. You're not the menace some people paint you to be. To be honest, I think the city's safer with you in it." He gave Spidey a nod of respect.

"Thanks," Spidey said. "Uhh...you too," he said. "Anyone who can get the drop on me the way you did, I'm glad he's on my side."

Daredevil snorted. "I'm only on one side, kid. The side of justice."

"Alright, well...see you around, devil guy."

Daredevil grinned. "Yeah, seeya," he said in a rueful tone before running off and leaping to another rooftop, then out of sight.

Spidey shook his head. "Weird guy," he muttered before shooting a web at the highest anchor point in range and zipping off toward home.

At Sue's insistence, Reed had stepped out for some fresh air. It worried him being out in public when he still had numerous concerns about the nature, extent, and safety of his aberrations, but given he'd developed a degree of fine control over his...abilities...since beginning his analyses, and given the others, save for poor Ben, had done the same, he decided it was reasonably safe to step out for a late evening walk and a sandwich from a deli he particularly liked.

The sun had gone down a while back and Reed was two blocks from home when he heard a woman's shrill scream from the other side of the street. He looked and saw a blur of motion, as well as a number of pedestrians being jostled rudely aside by a fleeing figure.

"HE'S GOT MY PURSE!" the same woman screamed.

Reed frowned. Some people had stopped walking and were milling around and a few had taken out their phones, but most were walking on. Some had tried to close ranks on the purse snatcher, but he was still shoving his way through the thinning herd of New Yorkers barring his path.

With great power comes great responsibility...

Tightening his jaw, Reed willed himself to stretch to the height of a traffic signal, making his legs long and thin enough that he could cross the street in one stride without disrupting traffic. As he crossed the street (disrupting traffic as people stopped to stare at the towering taffy man), he stretched and expanded his right arm and hand, catching a railing on a balcony and using it to bring himself around quickly, freeing his legs to shift size and orientation, allowing him to maintain stride and speed as he pursued the snatcher, who he could now see clearly from his heightened vantage point. As people stopped and stared at him, he stretched his body long and thin, bending low over the sidewalk as he ran in kind of a long, lopey gait that felt completely unnatural and yet oddly natural at the same time.

In no time at all, he closed the gap. He stretched out his arms, grabbing the purse snatcher and winding his fingers around him several times to ensnare him. As the offender thrashed and cursed, a police car suddenly swerved out of traffic, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Two officers jumped out, training their guns on Reed, eyes wide and frantic.

"D-don't move!" one officer said shakily.

"S-stay where you are! Drop the civilian!"

"Good evening, officers," Reed said politely. "This man just stole a woman's purse. I believe you'll find her—" He craned his neck to look behind him, stretching it out to peer around the corner. "She's headed this way now, actually." He turned to look at the police again. "If it's alright with you, I'll release the suspect into your custody?"

The two officers looked at each other and blinked. "Uhh...yeah. You do that, fella."

Reed unwound his fingers from the purse snatcher, withdrawing them into his hands, which shrank to normal size along with his arms and legs. It took several seconds for him to completely return to normal size and proportions, with cameras flashing all around him and bystanders murmuring excitedly. One of the officers moved to handcuff the suspect while the other kept Reed covered with his gun.

The woman finally ran up to the scene, panting and puffing. She looked at Reed with unabashed gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed. "You saved—" She paused. "Reed Richards?!"

Reed blinked. He hadn't recognized the woman at first, but now that she was right in front of him, his shaky memory for names and faces clicked. "Oh, err...hello, Mrs. Collins," he said. "Small world."

The officer who still had his gun trained on Reed cleared his throat. "Ahem. Sir? Ma'am? We'll need both of you to make a statement..."

"Of course, Officer," Reed said mildly, choosing to ignore both the excited crowd noies surrounding them and the rapid beating of his own heart.

"You're home awfully late, Peter," Aunt May said.

"Sorry, Aunt May," Peter said. "I was out catching up on stuff I planned to do before I got sick." He stopped to kiss his aunt on the cheek. "So how was your day?"

"Oh, I have some exciting news actually!" May said with a broad smile. "I'm getting a job!"

Peter blinked. "A job? Aunt May, that's...that's great, but...are you sure you're in any shape to—"

"Oh, pish-posh," May said, waving him away. "I'm not some frail old lady on her deathbed. Besides, the doctor said it'd be good for me to get out and be active, and I'm going to be helping out a good cause! This nice man bought PS616 from the city to use as a homeless shelter, and I'm going to be helping set up the shelter's kitchen."

"Wow," Peter said. He frowned. "PS616, though, that's...where is that?"

"Oh, it's in Chinatown," May said. "That's how I found out about it, I was there shopping for some herbs my doctor recommended." She smiled. "Oriental medicine works wonders, you know. If I take the right herbs and stay active, I can turn the clock back a good ten years!"

"Well...so long as you don't overdo it," Peter said, hugging May. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Oh, I will." She frowned. "Peter! You reek of cigarettes! What—"

"Ugh, tell me about it," Peter said quickly. "Jameson's started smoking again. Now it's not just him spitting in your face, it's him blowing smoke in your face."

"That's deplorable," May said. "I should call him up and—"

"What good would it do?" Peter said with a helpless shrug. "Old Picklepuss doesn't listen to anybody." He yawned. "Well, I'm beat. Nite Aunt May!"

"Yes, goodnight, dear. Sleep well!"

The Spectacular Stretching Scientist!
Eminent researcher foils purse snatcher

Notable astrophysicist Dr. Reed Richards, recently in the headlines as one of the survivors of the spaceship crash in the East River, made waves again last night when he foiled a purse snatcher. What makes this Good Samaritan act worthy of front-page news? Well, just take a look at our stunning photos of Dr. Richards straddling the street, stepping over cars, and stretching around corners!

Dr. Richards was unavaiable for comment, but a representative did say that he and his fellow crash survivors will be reaching out to the media with their story in due time. For now, it seems Manhattan has a new, stretchy superhero making the city a little safer.

"So the webhead got to you, huh?" Ben grunted with an amused snort.

Reed shrugged. "I'll admit, when I heard Mrs. Collins yell that her purse was stolen, when I saw the thief pushing his way through the crowds, something...something clicked," he said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm completely committed to curing us, I don't know how dangerous these changes to our bodies really are, and I'm not planning to make a career out of things like this, but—"

"But in the moment, you saw how you could do the most good, and you acted," Susan said, putting her arms around Reed and embracing him from behind. "You're a good man, Reed. You did a good thing." She turned him around and looked into his eyes. "Just...just be more careful, alright? He could've had a gun, you could've been shot...I'm pretty sure you're not bulletproof."

"Yeah, and all that stretching wrecked your clothes," Johnny pointed out.

Reed grimaced. Everything he'd been wearing when he left had stretched out and warped, seams had split, and his shoes had come apart. It had all barely held together long enough for him to get home. "I'll...need to work on some sort of special material," he said, heading over to his lab. "Something that can stretch with me without ripping." He frowned thoughtfully. "Something that'll acclimate to all our powers," he added. "Maybe...unstable molecules?"

"So...you're making superhero outfits for us?" Johnny asked.

Reed stopped short. "Er..." He looked over at Ben, indecision in his eyes.

Ben snorted and made a 'go-ahead' gesture. "Go on, egghead, get it outta your system," he said good-naturedly. "Heck, I could use some pants that won't rip ta pieces on this crazy rock skin."

Spider-Man In League With Lucifer!
Spidey Spotted With Devil of Hell's Kitchen

The serial killing spree which has claimed the lives of two dozen gang youth in Hell's Kitchen ended yesterday with the arrest of one Frank Castle, 35, identified by surviving witnesses as the killer. But there's another story here: Castle was seen fighting not one, but two masked vigilantes!

Spider-Man has joined forces with a second red-suited vigilante in a red mask, who the locals call the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, leading some to speculate on the possibility of a vigilante turf war in New York City...

"Vigilante turf war? Oh, gimme a break!" Flash Thompson ranted. "Spidey went to bust heads on that dude who's been shooting up Hell's Kitchen, that's all!"

"You have to admit, this 'Devil' character is suspicious," Sha Shan Nguyen commented. "A vigilante who identifies himself with a Satanic archetype?"

"I've been hearing a lot about that guy," Hobie interjected. "They say he's a real skullcracker. Goes after drug dealers mostly. Always puts his victims in the hospital, lots of broken bones."

"Yeah, well...drug dealers deserve it," Flash said. "And what about this Castle guy, huh? I mean, yeah, sure, gangs are bad and all, but you can't just go around killin' people!"

"That's true," Sha Shan said. "Still, aren't you curious about how Spider-Man ended up working with this Devil guy?"

Peter finished shuffling books in his locker, closed the door, and headed off to class. As he walked down the hall, he spotted Gwen and Harry. Gwen had her head down and her shoulders hunched, with Harry's arm wrapped protectively around her as he chattered on about something. For a brief moment, his gaze met Peter's; Harry's eyes tightened, and his lips drew into a thin, eerie smile. Gwen glanced Peter's way out of the corner of her eye, then looked away, a sullen, withdrawn frown on her face.

Peter's mind conjured up a brief, ugly image of webbing Harry to the wall, taking Gwen, and swinging away from the school. Fists clenched at his side, he shuffled on to class.

Spectacular Spider-Man is the intellectual property of Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Greg Weisman. Other properties appearing in this story are the intellectual property of their respective creators. This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged.