Peter sat in his room in the apartment. In the two weeks since he'd left the SHIELD carrier, he'd been sent a number of packages containing papers pertaining to his father's research. Of course, he was sure it wasn't all of it; notes from both Fury and Stillwell had confirmed that to be impossible. Something to do with classified material and security issues.
What Peter did have, however, was something to work on; his father had been developing an adhesive formula, apparently to be used in conjunction with the spider based super soldier formula. Peter wasn't exactly government scientist level in his scientific prowess, but he was smart enough to take two designs and put them together. He'd spent the last six days and about 400 dollars on trying to combine the adhesive formula with the aerosol system that his father had developed in college.
So far, he'd come up with about half a dozen different viscosities of the adhesive. Some of them were producing highly sticky strands when fired from the aerosol system, others were coming out as single strands that attached to things in a kind of web pattern. When he tested the attached strands, they were strong; he struggled to snap them, even with the enhanced strength he had from the formula, well, both formulas, as apparently, the formula in Rogers' system had sort of 'bred' with Peter's father's formula, granting him a strength level greater than would've been found in either formula alone.
He grabbed the pair of tweezers beside him, gently beginning to work on the wiring for the mechanism on the launcher for the adhesive. As he leaned forward, in front of the tiny red aerosol container and launcher mechanism so he could see what he was doing, he began to hear the ringing from before, coming from the direction of the launcher.
He quickly jerked his head back, right before a blob of the adhesive fired from the launcher, hitting the wall and exploding into a kind of web. He looked between the launcher and the web. After a moment, he pulled up the red aerosol cartridge out of the launcher and replaced it with one of the blue ones beside him. He picked up the launcher, the trigger mechanism snapping back into the silver launcher, giving it the appearance of a standard silver bracelet once he pressed the flap above the aerosol container down.
He paused for a second before snapping the launcher onto his right wrist, flicking it, causing the trigger mechanism to flip down into the palm of his hand while the launcher mechanism popped up slightly, the aerosol nozzle barely visible at the front. At least that part worked properly. He'd just have to hope for no more misfires.
He flicked his wrist back, the nozzle popping down while the trigger snapped back into the main structure. He looked over to the other one he'd built earlier that was sat on his bedside table, looking at it for a moment before snapping it on his left wrist. He walked over to his wardrobe, grabbing a red hooded jacket out of it, putting it on over his blue t-shirt, zipping it up about three quarters of the way.
He moved over to the pair of red converse by his door, removing his socks before putting the shoes on. He'd made tiny perforations in the soles of the shoes, allowing the tiny hairs on the bottoms of his feet to go through, letting him cling to walls as if he didn't have shoes on. He grabbed the pair of blue gloves he'd made the same modifications to and put them on, carefully making sure there was room for the triggers to flip into the gloves and a small gap for the adhesive to fire through. Finally, he grabbed the black balaclava at the top of his wardrobe, putting it on, followed by some ski goggles, before pulling up his hood.
He moved over to the bedroom door, double checking it was locked. He didn't want to have Deborah walk in and find him gone. Odds were, she'd knock, get no response and assume he was sleeping. After all, he had recently had major surgery after being hit by a car.
He walked to the window, opening it and climbing up onto the window ledge before climbing out of the window, sticking to the wall. He sat there for a second, before looking at his left wrist.
"Okay, here goes." He said, closing his eyes before jumping off the wall, feeling the wind hitting him as he fell towards the street, the ringing coming from it getting louder and louder, while reaching towards the corner of the building across from him, opening his eyes and flicking his right wrist, trying to hit the trigger mechanism "Come on, come on."
A second before he hit the ground, he flicked his right wrist and hit the trigger with his two middle fingers, a strand of the adhesive firing and attaching to the building. He released the trigger and grabbed the line, beginning to swing from it, a ringing coming from the direction of the building across from him. He waited until he was about eight feet away from it before putting his legs out in front of him, catching onto the wall and coiling up like a spring before releasing and firing another line at the building across from him.
He whooped as he let go of the line, the momentum of the swing sending him hurtling upward before he began his dive, firing his next line about fifteen feet from the ground, lifting his legs in a kicking motion, his backside coming within inches of the pavement, his jeans pocket narrowly missing the road as he swung between a lorry and a cab travelling in opposite directions.
As he reached the apex of the swing, he released, his momentum carrying him at high speeds towards the tower across from him. He put his hands out, planning on clinging to the wall. As he reached the wall, he hit it at high speeds, feeling a dull pain in his chest and arms as he began to slide down the building, catching himself halfway down.
Using the ringing he got in his head, that... spider sense, was the key. He had to get that under control or he'd keep having botch jobs like that. He paused for a second before spring boarding off the wall, firing another line and swinging down the street, stopping on a wall as he heard something... someone, screaming.
He looked around for a moment before spotting the source; a group of about eight guys advancing on a dark haired woman, somewhere in her early to mid twenties, in a grey suit with a pencil skirt, all of the men carrying knives.
He stood up, bouncing off the wall and quickly swinging over to one of the roofs above the alley, flipping down onto the wall and slowly beginning to crawl down, trying to avoid being seen.
"Aww, come on sweetheart, don't be like that." One of the men said in a strong Australian accent, brandishing his knife at the woman "I promise, we won't hurt you. Much."
Peter paused for a second, quickly replacing the aerosol container in his left launcher with a red one from his pocket before springing off the wall and landing softly behind the group, raising a gloved finger in front of his mouth to the woman as he slowly advanced, grabbing one of the thugs from behind and delivering a cross chop to his throat, knocking him out and causing the other seven goons to turn around.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" Peter quipped, smirking under the balaclava "You guys have got to be the local chefs. I mean, the way you're holding those knives, you can't really know how to kill someone with them."
"Know enough to kill you, smartass." The lead thug said, brandishing his knife at Peter with an unhinged grin "You play nice and take it like a man, we'll make it quick."
"Funny, I was going to say the same to you." Peter said before raising his left wrist, flicking it and firing a blob of the adhesive at the goon's hand, propelling him back and attaching him to the wall by his hand, watching with a chuckle as the goon tried to free himself "Relax, smiley. It'll dissolve in about an hour. I think."
Peter stood there, the six remaining thugs apparently unsure what to do. Peter quickly jumped onto the wall to his left, firing a couple of blobs at the far left and far right goons, attaching them to the walls before Peter sprung off it, kicking the centre thug in the gut as he punched the centre left thug in the jaw, feeling it crack as the man was floored.
"Okay, we're going, we're going." The left thug out of the two who remained the one with the Australian accent, said "Just please, don't hurt us."
"Would it have stopped you if she said that?" Peter asked, staring at the goon, before he began hearing a ringing from behind him, ducking under the attempted stab by the thug he'd hit in the gut, springing up with an uppercut, knocking the man out "I want you to put the word out. I want you to tell your friends that they had better stay out of New York. It's under my protection now. You understand me?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say man." The thug said, before Peter raised his left wrist again, quickly firing blobs at the remaining goons to the wall before webbing up the Australian thug's mouth.
"Sorry about that, I can't stand idiots talking." Peter said, smirking at his own quip as he helped the woman up "Are you okay?"
"Please, just... just take it and go." The woman said, thrusting her purse at Peter "Just don't hurt me?"
Peter froze. He'd just saved this woman and she still thought that he was one of the bad guys? Did he look that much like a gang member.
"Sorry lady, I don't take tips." Peter said, quickly switching the left aerosol with a blue one once again before running up the wall and springing off it, firing a line at the building across from him and calling back "Kind regards, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-man!"
He swung back through the city, going full circle before clinging to the wall outside his apartment window. He quickly crawled back into the window, pulling down his hood before removing the goggles and balaclava.
Friendly neighbourhood Spider-man? That was the best he could think of? He was able to beat up eight armed guys with his bare hands and just some adhesive compound, but all he could call himself was 'Spider-man?' That sucked.
He could see the headlines; there had been 'Iron Man saves city,' 'Captain America stops missile' and now it was going to be 'Spider-man webs muggers.' It just didn't compare. Then again, it was no more horrific than the outfit; he needed something cool, so that attention would be taken off of the fact that he sounded like a comic book character.
He paused for a minute, pulling off the gloves and jacket, sitting in the chair by his desk. He had to come up with some kind of costume. He reached over to the desk, grabbing a note pad and pen, beginning to sketch ideas.
...
Gargan laid in his bed onboard the SHIELD carrier, tossing a baseball against the ceiling and catching it as it came back down. He was sick of waiting for the call telling him the formula was ready to be tested; he just wanted to be able to get out and kick some ass!
He sat round in his bed, running his left hand down his face. Sleeping was getting harder and harder, too much noise. Honestly, sometimes, he wished he was the only person in the place. He walked over to the other wall, turning on the light. He moved to his desk, grabbing the old gameboy on it and turning it on.
He laid there for about twenty minutes, playing mario, before finally getting sick of it and hurling the handheld at the wall, causing it to break and fall to the floor in pieces. He grumbled to himself before hearing a knock at his door. He walked over to it, opening the door and seeing Lieutenant Black stood there.
"Forgotten our arrangement, Mac?" She said with a wry grin as she slowly undid the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit "I didn't."
"Go away." He said simply, going to shut the door and being stopped by her foot in the door "Seriously, Black, I'm not in the mood."
"Well, I am." She said, walking in and moving close "Go on, you know you want to."
"I said f*** off!" He said, shoving her out the door and slamming it shut.
Normally, he'd be all for it. Right now, though, he just couldn't be asked. He moved over to the desk, picking up his cell and flicking through his texts. One from his mother, one from Stoner and a few from other random individuals. After a second, the intercom chimed.
"Go on." He said as he pressed the button.
"Major Gargan, you're required in the lab." The voice of Stillwell came from the intercom, the excitement evident in his voice "It's time."
...
Okay, so there's chapter four. I decided on this kind of chapter as, simply put, I wanted to see some Spidey action and it did fit in. As far as the webshooter design goes, I wanted him to have webshooters he can wear inconspicuously as Peter Parker as well as Spider-man. Next chapter, he'll have his proper costume and we'll see the experiment on Gargan; I think we all know this won't end well. R&R, please, no flames.