Through Green Eyes: Large Balls of Fire to the Butt are NOT Fun!


Hi-yeah, everybody! That's right, I am alive! Sorry it has taken me so long to update, but I really wanted to update two of my other fic's, Green Lantern Unlimited and Superman Unlimited first. Also, I wrote a Halloween special staring Danny Phantom. For anyone who is a fan of DP, please check it out on my profile and leave a review. Consider it a taste of things to come with Danny Phantom Unlimited. Also, I want to place it in either the DC Unlimited Universe, (Superman Unlimited, Green Lantern Unlimited, more to come) or my Marvel Unlimited series, but can't decide which. Please tell me which it would better fit in. This arc will contain fan creation, Lightening Bug, created by PadawanCassy, and a guest appearance from everyone's favorite Shellhead!
The hospital, like most people, was never a place Peter enjoyed going to. His earliest memory of the hospital was when he had broken his leg climbing trees in the park. The doctors had not been to gentle as they fitted him for a cast, leading to more traumatic memories to Peter's long repertoire. What made the hospital even worse, was when a friend, especially one as close as Harry, was confined to a bed in a sterile white room, hooked up to a dozen or more machines.

Peter sat slouched beside his comatose friend, his hair a mess, clothes wrinkled and dirty. His right hand cupped his forehead, giving some mild level of support for his head and neck. Peter had stayed like this for three hours, letting the world pass him by. He had done this for three day straight. His many wounds having since healed for the most part, he was no longer a bandage, covered mess.

Mary Jane and Gwen made frequent trips to Harry's side, with the occasional appearance by the enigmatic Mr. Osborn sprinkled on. If Peter had been more lucent, he may have noticed Norman's unusual interest in him, as well as the ever so subtle tickle on the back of his neck whenever Osborn was present.

When he was told to leave, he did so without question and without argument. At night, he would sneak out of the house and bust some head to relieve his anger and guilt. What'd Peter have to feel guilty about? He didn't cause Harry to have a seizure. He hadn't put Harry in the hospital. But he wasn't there when his best friend needed him. He wasn't there to help Harry.

"Peter?"

The young superhero shot up like a bullet in surprise. "Harry! You're awake!" Peter yelled, nearly jumping through the roof, a feat well within his grasp, in celebration.

Harry blinked, face contorted with confusion. "Where am I?" He asked weakly, looking at the number of machines surrounding, and attached, to him. "Peter, what the Hell happened to me?"

Peter took a deep breath and, in that same breath explained everything (or what he could tell Harry without blowing his secret) that had happened over the past three days. When he had finished, Harry stared blankly back at his friend.

"Peter, I tell you this as a friend who is concerned for your health, don't you DARE go emo on me, got that?!"

With a tilted head and a befuddled feeling, Peter sat back down. "What are you talking about?"

The Industrialist heir sighed, massaging his temples. "Look Pete, you blame yourself for everything! My God, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you dreamed that you killed the dinosaurs! Then, you go into this deep, depressive slump and we're all worried you're going to commit suicide or something!"

Peter was silent for a moment, contemplating Harry's words. Peter would readily admit that he was at times depressed, that was inescapable. Peter had never contemplated suicide an act, which he felt was completely idiotic and had little point. As for, being emo? Yeah…that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "Harry, I am not going to kill myself, and I am defiantly not emo! I'm just really, really, easy to guilt."

A smile crept onto Harry's pale face. His eyes gave a wily twinkle. "Well, now I know how you can do all my homework form now on, eh?"

For the first time in days Peter laughed. "Hahahaha! Harry thanks. I needed that." Peter said with a smile. Suddenly, he felt a slight tingle spread up and down his neck like a trickle of cold water. It was not the usual "hey-somebody-is-about-to-rip-your-heart-out" alert, more of a "watch-out-some-body-my-try-to-put-a-knife-in-your-back" alert.

Cautious eyes prowled the halls behind Peter, looking for whatever threat was coming. The tingle became a sharp buzz as he spotted Norman Osborn walking with his normal stiffness toward the duo. Why was his spider-sense reacting to Norman? Sure, he was a sleaze ball, but a threat to his life?

Norman beamed with joy as he stepped into Harry's room. He ran to his son and captured him in a bear hug. "Son! I thought you'd die!" Norman sobbed, much to his son's surprise and utter confusion. Norman let go of his son and stood back up, arms still on Harry's shoulders. "When I was called by the doctors I was so worried! I rushed right down here and have been coming here daily!"

Harry's features contorted in disgust. Summoning what little strength he had in his body, Harry pushed his father off of him. Venom poured from Harry's eyes, searing the business mogul's soul. "I appreciate my space father. Shouldn't you be running Oz. Corp. or something?"

Norman bit his lip and looked visible injured from Harry's bitter query. For a second, Peter felt pity for his friend's father, but one thing he could not over come was the constant buzz of his spider-sense. Why was it going off around Norman? Sure the guy was supposed to be a scumbag, at least from how Harry described him, but why would he set off his spider-sense?

"Harry, I…I may have difficulty expressing it, but I…I really do care about you." The businessman said in a hushed tone. He stood up with a bowed head, his hard-soled shoes clacking on the floor. "I hope that one day you will be able to see that." He turned around and left the room, but not before he gave Peter a once over with his emerald eyes.

Peter felt his spider-sense flare up like a jet engine along his neck. Peter squirmed uncomfortable in his chair under the scrutinizing almost…lustful gaze of Norman Osborn. What was it that made his spider-sense go off around Norman?

"Snort! Pete, don't but it." Harry said with disgust. "He's only trying to get something out of that act. He always puts on a face of concern and fatherly love when need be." Peter winced at how hatefully Harry had used the word 'fatherly'. The unwilling heir sighed and massaged his temples. He turned his head to his friend with one eye open. "Hey, Pete, I want to get some sleep so could you…?"

Peter nodded understandingly. He got up and waved good-bye to his long time friend as he left the room with mixed somberness and glee.


"Are you sure you don't won't to come home Peter?" Asked Aunt May over the phone.

Peter smiled and nodded, not that May could actually see it, and replied most sure. "Yeah, I just gotta burn off some energy. I just got so excited that Harry woke up, yeah know?"

"All right dear, but don't do anything stupid." Aunt May conceded finally.

Peter suppressed a laugh. "No problem. I'll see you in a couple of hours?"

"That's fine. I love you Peter, good-bye."

"Love you too, bye." Peter hung up the pay phone and pulled his mask back down over the rest of his face. Spider-Man stepped out of the phone booth casually. Needless to say, he received more than a few dozen stares. Spider-Man gave them all, unseen, glares.

"What? The only place I could hide a cell phone wouldn't be too comfortable! Yessh act like you've never seen a superhero use the phone before!" he said with a shrug.

The teenage age hero looked over at a lamppost with a smirk. Wrapped in a thick cocoon was a rather stereotypical New York Mugger, dangling from the lamppost. "Seriously, what idiot tries to mug people in broad daylight?" Spider-Man chided. He put his left index finger on his forehead and gave a gentle push making his swing back and forth. "You guys just get dumber and dumber everyday!"

Spider-Man hopped ten feet into the air, whipped out his arm, fired a single web-line, which anchored itself twixt two, cracked windows. With his weight applied to the highly elastic protein fibers, the web-line stretched and rapidly contracted, propelling Spider-Man through the air.

With the grace and skill of a dozen Olympic gymnasts, the young hero sailed through the sky, back flipping and spinning as he catapulted from each web-line. Peter found the materiel fascinating. Under a microscope, Peter had found that it was almost identical to regular spider silk but had a higher protein count. Upon doing even more reasearch on spider silk, Peter had learned that some spiders ate their own webs after one night and then rebuilt them the following day. Curious, Peter had eaten a small sample. It tasted like peanut butter. Oddly, well more odd than it tasting like peanut butter, Peter's silk seemed to be far less stable than a spider's silk. After only forty-eight hours, the webbing would disintegrate into a fine silvery powder. The powder went great with tea.

Peter took a deep breath as he was flung high up into the sky after releasing his hold on the last web-line. The cooler, fresher air filled his lungs as he reached over five hundred feet in altitude. Spider-Man looked down at the city, his city with awe. Cars and trucks zipped by on the roads below people bustled down the dirty streets. From up here, Spider-Man felt invincible.

That was until the force of gravity once more made its presence known and struck at this foul intruder in the domain of the birds. As he descended, the web-head fired off another web-line and swung at an angle between to tall buildings. At the bottom of his swing, Spidey twisted his torso to the right and fired another web-line. He used this to adjust his flight path and continued roughly down the middle of the road, high above the streets.

Spider-Man whooped and hollered as he did a back flip followed by a front-flip and a Flying Screw, which was simple holding your legs together and tucking your arms across your chest and spinning to the right.

As he turned a corner at high speed, Spider-Man's spider-sense went mad. Allowing his own instincts to take over, he slammed his right forearm against his web-line, right above his left hand, making the web bend and flex around his limb and carry his body upward at a sudden, right-angle just as he felt a searing heat pass under his posterior.

Spider-Man slapped against the side of the large apartment complex and watched as a ball of fire the size of a basketball fly though the air before fizzling out. He jerked his head to the side to try and find the source of the attack and was confronted by a sight most unique.

Decked out in a strange metal suit and black spandex bodysuit was a blonde haired man, fists alight with flame. The suit itself seemed rather skeletal, tracing his ribs and legs with thin slivers of circuitry, barely covered by a thin layer of clear plastic.

Spider-Man groaned in annoyance. "A goody-goody! Just three days after I pawn one flyboy, I get another! With flame powers! How original of you." He said dryly.

The blonde haired man scowled at him, the fires on his hands growing larger. "Don't mock me Spider-Freak!"

"Oh yes, I surely haven't heard THAT one before!"

The blonde pulled back a fist and punched out at Spider-Man, letting another fireball roar at the hero, screaming for him to shut up. Spider-Man leapt off the building letting the fireball dissipate against the thick, stonewall leaving a large black scorch mark. He fell with his back to the ground and thrust his arms up at the fire-based enemy and made the Devil Horns sign, pressing down on the biological release valve briefly while tensing his forearms in just the right way to send of twin globs of webbing at his opponents head, then fired a web-line to the nearest building and pulling himself toward the wall, clinging on to it spread eagled.

The Hot Head threw his burning hands in front of his face, blocking the web-bullets, which quickly melted from the intense heat. But that didn't stop high speed, molten web-fluid from smacking his hands and forcing them into his face.

"OOH!" Spider-Man winced, watching the flying pyrokinetic spin once in the air. "That had…to…burn?"

Slowly the man lowered his hands away from a completely unburned head, not so much as a patch of red on his forehead. He sneered and cocked his head. "Did you really think I could get hurt by my own fire? Hah! No pyrokinetic is that pathetic!"


The Savageland Earth-1610 aka Ultimate Universe

"GAH! I burned myself!" Screamed, Pyro holding his hand in pain after touching the stove unintentionally.

The Blob shook his head, making his many layers of fat jiggle. "Pathetic."


New York City

"All right, fine. We've established that I shouldn't try that again. How about we move onto the whole motivation slash unreasonable hatred toward me. Go ahead I'm used to that." Spider-Man said to the attacker.

"Grr, you think you're so damn cool! Well, your not! Your not even a real hero!" The blonde yelled.

"Oh, owe! That really hurt coming from a guy in spandex." Spider-Man mocked, rolling his eyes beneath his mask.

"You're in spandex too! And this isn't spandex! God, you are so freaking annoying!"

"Hey! This is not spandex either! It's not so cheap costume shop fabric!" Spider-Man countered, stabbing at him with a finger.

"Fine whatever!" He shouted, trembling with rage. Spider-Man noted his flames grow in size and intensity. "I'm hear to challenge to you to a contest that will prove I'm the real hero!"


Next Chapter: Through Green Eyes: Contest of the Gods.