Heavy Hitters
A baby blue 1969 Camaro with white racing stripes is one of the most beautiful cars on the road. The engine may be loud, but it has a kind of welcoming melody to it. The roar of 7500 revolutions per minute just puts you in a loving trance of a machine that has such beauty. The frame of the care is sleek and smooth, a symbol of a great steel worker. A '69 Camaro is gorgeous no matter what angle you look at it; well, maybe there is one bad angle. Unfortunately Peter Parker happened to be staring directly at the car from that one angle.
That very Camaro was bearing down on the helpless Peter. The driver couldn't see Peter because he was crouching down picking up his backpack and books, which were lying on the street. When he looked up at the Camaro his body froze in terror, like a deer looking into headlights. The muscle car was approaching him and showing no sign of stopping.
"Jump!" said a voice in the back of Peter's head.
Confused, Peter did the only thing he could think of. His legs literally sprung into action as he leaped into the air. The distance between Peter and the ground increased as he soared into the sky.
"I can fly!" Peter shouted as he gained air. It explained why he jumped so far during P.E. that morning. Peter stretched his arms upward as he attempted to get even higher, but then he realized something; he was falling back to the ground, rapidly as he soon found out.
The Camaro had screeched to a stop at the same spot that Peter had been only moments before. Now instead of it crashing into Peter, Peter was about to crash into it. Peter came speeding down and landed with a giant "CRUNCH" onto the hood of the gorgeous Camaro. The back end of the car lifted up for a few seconds, then came crashing down to the pavement.
The voice in the back of his head returned, "Run!" and he did. His legs carried him the rest of the way to his house. He bolted up the stairs to his room and quickly slammed the door.
"What the heck just happened to me!?" Peter yelled at himself. "I can jump high and far, I run for four blocks and I'm not even tired, and the stupid discus just sticks to my hands when I'm trying to throw it. What's happening to me?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Peter soon found out that he stuck to a lot of things. He started to think of himself as a human magnet. He would be writing a paper or doing some homework and just daze off. Soon he would find that his pen and paper were stuck to his hands. He would hit his alarm clock, step on a sock, or brush by a book and find them all attached to him.
Peter tried to think what was causing this strange phenomenon. A bio- magnetic energy that his body might be producing? Static electricity? Magnetic personality?
Peter's adhesiveness made a bad situation worse one day. It was one of those bad days at school. His problem with things sticking to him had been going on for a couple of days, and it wasn't stopping, Mr. Schmitt wanted him to turn in the spider web project soon, but Peter had forgotten the formula because of the shock of the car driving at him, and Peter was looking forward to a nice rest at home. Unfortunately this didn't happen.
"Hey Parker!" came a cocky voice behind him.
"Run," came the voice in the back of his head. Every time Peter had heard the voice before he took its advice, but because of his bad day, Peter didn't feel like running. The ensuing conflict couldn't ruin his day anymore, could it?
Peter turned to see none other than Flash Thompson. He was wearing his green and gold letterman's jacket that he had received for playing football; he filled the jacket pretty well, it was almost a muscle shirt for him. Behind him was a group of friends that liked to follow him around. A lot of them were mindless jocks that just needed a leader to tell them who to pick on.
"Parker!" yelled Flash as he approached Peter. "Parker, my favorite sophomore. Nice to see you on this fine day."
Peter could spot Flash's false sympathy from a mile away, "What do you want Flash?" Peter asked in a weary tone.
"Well I wasn't going to ask for anything," Flash commented with a sly smile, "but as long as you're offering I could use a couple of bucks."
Peter knew that was coming. He hesitated as he considered his answer. "Sorry.but I don't have my wallet today."
Flash's sympathy disappeared immediately, "I heard you pause there. That means you're lying!" Flash grabbed Peter and slammed him against a near by wall. "I need some money, and you're going to give it to me!"
Peter was scared to death, why hadn't he listened to the voice? "Flash, I can't give you any money. I seriously don't have any money!"
Peter's statement just enraged Flash more. "You don't want to mess with me Parker. Would you like me to demonstrate the power and strength that I have?" With those words he lifted Peter off the ground. His back slid up the wall and his feet were flailing for something to stand on. "Now get ready for a crash landing."
Peter squinted as Flash let go of him-but nothing happened. Peter was sticking to the wall, dangling a foot or two above the ground.
"What the heck is this?" Flash asked. "Is this a joke?"
Flash and his friends started poking and prodding Peter to see why he was up there. Peter knew only bad could come from this.
"HAHAHA" Flash burst out laughing, "He's sticking to the wall like a piece of duct tape or something!"
"And you'll need to tape your face together if you don't duck!" came a voice from behind Flash.
Flash turned around to see what it was; his mistake. The only thing he saw was a hand flying towards his face, striking his head to the side. He yelled out in pain as the person's nails scraped his skin as the hand slid off his cheek. Four bloody lines streaked the side of his face.
Felicia Hardy was crouched in a fighting pose; her eyes were challenging Flash to do something to her.
"What the heck was that? You act like you're a freaking cat or something!" Flash spat at her.
"Worse than that, I'm a black cat. You cross my or anyone of my friend's path you better be prepared for bad luck." She hissed back.
"Flash, let's split before she does something crazy," one of Flash's buddies said.
Flash slowly backed up, staring at Felicia the whole time. He opened his mouth to say something, but choked it back and just growled. He gave Felicia a killer glare, which she returned with just as much intensity.
KERPLUMP!
Peter fell to the ground, and he amazingly landed with ease on all fours. Felicia looked at Peter's peculiar pose. He was crouching on the ground, but he was doing it with all of his limbs. The closest thing that Felicia could think that he looked like was a cheetah or a spider ready to attack.
"Do you enjoy being in that pose?" Felicia asked with a sound of curiosity mixed with sarcasm.
Peter snapped out of the deep trance he had fallen into. He lost the concentration he had on keeping the pose and fell on his face. He pulled himself up and looked at Felicia, "Thanks for getting me out of that.um.sticky situation."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As you already know, Peter is an intelligent young man. It didn't take him that long to realize that something was happening to him. Running at speeds faster than he has ever in his life, jumping farther than most track stars, and sticking to things at random times were bound to be recognized by Peter sooner or later. And being the scientific man that he is, he decided to run some tests on these abilities. Peter was sitting in his room, contemplating what experiments he should run to help him figure out the mysteries of these 'powers' he had acquired.
"Well, judging from the incident with Flash and his goons, my adhesiveness can support my body weight. Now, I'm hypothesizing that if I place my hand on the wall, then I should be able to stick to it."
As Peter said this he placed his hand on the wall. He let it rest there for a second, and then pulled it away with ease. "That's strange. Why wouldn't it stick now? Especially when I want it to. What did I do the other times that I'm not doing now?"
Peter immersed himself in thought as he remembered past events. Peter always went into a deep trance when he really wanted to analyze something. Nothing could disturb him; someone walking in on him might mistake him for dead. The only sign of life that he showed was his fingers drumming on the desk. It was a subconscious habit that happened whenever he concentrated on something else.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
There was a knock at Peter's door, but Peter didn't care. He was slowly cracking the riddle of the phenomenon. The door creaked open and Uncle Ben peeked in. "Peter," he said with no reply. "Peter, Peeeter, PETER!!" Ben was tired of kindly trying to get Peter's attention. He was familiar with this disconnection from the earth.
Peter came just enough out of the trance to pay attention to what Uncle Ben was saying. He knew that Uncle Ben was there, but he was still processing all of the information in the back of his head.
"Peter, your Aunt May and I are going out for dinner. Just whip a little something up for yourself if you get hungry. Any specific reason why you're picking up that pencil and putting it down over and over again?" and with that he left.
Peter looked down at his hand. A pencil that was on his desk had attached itself to his fingers and was now being drummed on the desk. This triggered an idea.
"Of course, it's a subconscious action. I can concentrate on doing it as much as I want, but it won't happen. I just have to do it."
Peter stuck his hand on a report that was lying on his desk, and then lifted his hand in the air. Instantly the term paper turned into fly paper, refusing to remove from his hand. And as easily as he had stuck it to his hand, it slipped off when Peter wanted to.
"Well, the next logical step would be to see how strong the adhesiveness is." Peter looked around the room for what would really test it. He came up with a perfect idea.
He placed both hands on the wall then tested to make sure they were attached to it. He hesitated for a second. This could hurt if it went wrong. He lifted his right leg and placed his foot on the wall. Next he did the same thing with his left leg.
Peter couldn't believe it-he was sticking to the wall! There was no explanation for what was happening. People just don't stick to walls. The worry left Peter's mind as a new idea took its place.
"WHOO HOO!!!" Peter yelled. He was standing on the chimney of his house, looking over the neighborhood. He easily jumped from roof to roof, doing aerial tricks every once in a while. Peter was having the biggest thrill of his life.
Peter made his way to the school. He bounded on to the roof and sat on an edge. There was a slight breeze as the sun was going down. Peter could imagine Gwen sitting next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, watching the beautiful colors in the sky.
After being in his fantasy world for a few minutes, Peter snapped back to reality. "Well that was a pretty good test. Now, what I really need is something to test these abilities to the max."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Please state your weight class and the name that you will be using for the competition." said the nasal voice of the lady behind the table.
Peter had no idea what possessed him to come here. He usually logically thought out ideas, considered the pros and the cons, and then made a rational decision. This was totally on impulse, and Peter was beginning to regret it.
"Umm.lightweight." Peter told the lady.
"And."
Peter was so nervous that he was drawing blanks, "And what?"
"Your name." was the annoyed response.
"Oh.that, right," Peter stammered. Peter replied with a description that he had heard a lot before, "Prodigy."
"No, too educational. What else?"
"Umm." Peter remembered jumping from roof to roof, "Ricochet?"
"That's good..wait, it's already been taken. Another?"
Peter thought of a name. He thought back at something that could be of some inspiration for a name. The memory of Harry's spider came back.
"Spider-Man," Peter told the lady.
"Interesting choice, but no one has it. I think we have a costume that you can use too. Go to the costume room, down the hall, third door on the right. Hand the man in there this slip of paper, he'll know what to do."
Peter walked to the costume room, trembling the whole way. He wasn't a fighter, he never was. Flash always picked on him, and did it with great ease. So why in the world did he sign up for a wrestling tournament??
Peter entered the dressing room and handed the paper to a thin, bald man that was measuring another wrestler. The man scanned the paper then went into another room. He immerged a moment later with a cover bag and handed it to Peter. "Go through that door, take the first right, and you'll find a bunch of stalls to change and a locker to put your stuff in."
Peter walked through the door, into the hall, and then into a dressing stall. He unzipped the bag and pulled out the spandex uniform that was inside. There were three pieces. The first one that he looked over was the mask. It was red with black webbing sewn into it. There were two big white eyes with a black border that showed Peter's reflection. He slipped the mask on and realized the eyes were one-way mirrors, he could see out but no one could see in.
Next he pulled out the upper half of the uniform. It was similar to the mask; it was red with webbing sewn into it, gloves attached to the sleeves, and a spider in the middle of the chest. There was blue on the under part of the arm that continued into the side of his chest and stomach. He took of his shirt and put on the costume.
The last part was the pants. They were blue with red boots attached at the bottom. He slipped those on and looked at himself in the mirror. "I look like something out of a comic book," he commented when he saw his reflection. Then something caught his eye.
"Dang, I've got a nice body. This spandex really accentuates muscles." He flexed his muscles in different poses, admiring himself. "Maybe I should show Gwen this. She won't be able to resist me."
His admiration was interrupted by an announcement over the P.A. "Will 'Spider-Man' please report to the preparation area, you're on in five minutes," came the grizzled voice.
After seeing his reflection, Peter had gained a much needed confidence boost. He walked towards the shouts of the crowd, ready to face the challenge that awaited him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for a wild match as these quick and agile lightweights face off in a battle for five hundred dollars!! In this corner, we have Amazing, the Ultimate SPIDER-MAN!!"
The crowd showed some enthusiasm as Peter was introduced. As the crowd cheered and as Peter looked at his opponent, reality set in. Peter was about to go against an experienced wrestler and probably get his butt whooped. "What the heck was I thinking? I'm probably going to die and Aunt May and Uncle Ben won't even know," Peter muttered to himself nervously.
"And in the opposite corner, we have the Dangerous, the Mysterious, PROWLER!!"
Peter looked at his opponent and nearly wet his pants. Staring straight back at him was a purple mask with two black spots with white slits where the eyes would be. His purple gloves gave the appearance that he had claws. He had a green shirt with a white insignia of a skull and some green pants. The Prowler looked ready to kill, and Peter did not want to be his prey.
The bell rang and Prowler immediately sprang into the air, flying towards Peter. Peter dove to the side, barely avoiding Prowler as he hit the ground, but Prowler didn't miss a beat. He landed and instantly shifted his weight to tackle Peter. Peter tried to break free of the grip, but he failed.
Prowler lifted Peter above his head and threw him at the ropes. Peter somersaulted through the airs and landed on the ropes with perfect balance. "HA! Didn't hurt!" Peter yelled at Prowler.
"Now ask him if his husband wrestles," came the voice.
Prowler ran towards Peter, but Peter just jumped over him. "Hey Prowler, does your husband wrestle too?"
This infuriated Prowler, and he started to go crazy. "Hey kid, why don't you shut up and stand still? I'll make it a lot less painful."
Peter was tired of playing defense, so he ran at Prowler. When he had closed the distance between them he lashed out his leg and kicked Prowler on the side of his head. Prowler spun once and fell on the ground. Peter picked him up and slammed him on the ground.
The official got into the ring and slid next to Prowler. He counted to ten, but Prowler hadn't moved at all. "HE'S DOWN! SPIDER-MAN IS THE WINNER!!"
The crowd went wild. Peter scanned the crowd and looked at all the people cheering for him. No one had ever given him such a reaction for something he did, and he had definitely never received praise for winning a fight. This had to be the greatest moment in his life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Three-hundred, four-hundred, five-hundred. It's all there," the manager said as he handed Peter the money. "You were pretty good out there. Would you be interested in being a regular? You could earn more money."
Peter was hesitant, but then he thought of what he could do with a load of cash. "Sure, why not?"
"Great," the manager replied, "We have a couple of extra suits like that one. Go to the dressing room and give Lee, the costumer, this slip and say you're a regular."
Peter took the slip and headed for the dressing room. He gave the slip to the man who was there before. Lee went into the back room to grab something. Peter scanned the room while he was waiting. He was so nervous the first time that he didn't notice all the cool things that were in the room. Bright costumes were strewn all over the place, giving the room a more vibrant look. The tables had tape measurers, needles, thread, and drawing pads on them. Pictures and award hung on the wall commending Mr. Lee of his creative designs.
Mr. Lee returned with an armful of cover slips. "Here are your extra costumes. They are all about the same. If you ever need repair just bring them in."
Peter took the costumes, "Thanks," he told Lee. Mr. Lee turned to the table and started working on a drawing. Peter left and went to a locker that the manager had assigned him. He hung up the costumes and realized he still had his on.
Peter was heading for the dressing room when he heard a crash behind him. He turned around and saw a man sprinting towards him. Afraid of a collision, Peter stepped to the side and let him pass. A second later the manager burst out of his office.
"Robbery! Somebody stop that guy! He just stole my money!" he came out yelling. When he saw that Peter had let the guy pass, his anger doubled. "Kid, why didn't you stop the freaking guy?? He just got away with my money."
Peter was mad that he was being blamed for this, "I'm a wrestler, not a security guard. Get your own guy to stop him. Anyways, it's not like it effects me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Peter walked home. He relived the match in his head. He laughed at Prowler and how stupid he was to try and beat the Amazing Spider-Man. Of course, the fact that he was about to pee his pants at the beginning totally slipped his mind.
Peter entered his house and paused. There was an eerie silence, like something was out of place. The light on the answering machine was blinking. He walked over and pushed the play button.
"Hello, this is Officer Phelps from the New York Police Department. I'm looking for someone from the Parker residence. We have a patient at the Waterside Hospital that has been identified as a Parker, and the patient is about to die. If you can, try and make it here as soon as you can."
A baby blue 1969 Camaro with white racing stripes is one of the most beautiful cars on the road. The engine may be loud, but it has a kind of welcoming melody to it. The roar of 7500 revolutions per minute just puts you in a loving trance of a machine that has such beauty. The frame of the care is sleek and smooth, a symbol of a great steel worker. A '69 Camaro is gorgeous no matter what angle you look at it; well, maybe there is one bad angle. Unfortunately Peter Parker happened to be staring directly at the car from that one angle.
That very Camaro was bearing down on the helpless Peter. The driver couldn't see Peter because he was crouching down picking up his backpack and books, which were lying on the street. When he looked up at the Camaro his body froze in terror, like a deer looking into headlights. The muscle car was approaching him and showing no sign of stopping.
"Jump!" said a voice in the back of Peter's head.
Confused, Peter did the only thing he could think of. His legs literally sprung into action as he leaped into the air. The distance between Peter and the ground increased as he soared into the sky.
"I can fly!" Peter shouted as he gained air. It explained why he jumped so far during P.E. that morning. Peter stretched his arms upward as he attempted to get even higher, but then he realized something; he was falling back to the ground, rapidly as he soon found out.
The Camaro had screeched to a stop at the same spot that Peter had been only moments before. Now instead of it crashing into Peter, Peter was about to crash into it. Peter came speeding down and landed with a giant "CRUNCH" onto the hood of the gorgeous Camaro. The back end of the car lifted up for a few seconds, then came crashing down to the pavement.
The voice in the back of his head returned, "Run!" and he did. His legs carried him the rest of the way to his house. He bolted up the stairs to his room and quickly slammed the door.
"What the heck just happened to me!?" Peter yelled at himself. "I can jump high and far, I run for four blocks and I'm not even tired, and the stupid discus just sticks to my hands when I'm trying to throw it. What's happening to me?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Peter soon found out that he stuck to a lot of things. He started to think of himself as a human magnet. He would be writing a paper or doing some homework and just daze off. Soon he would find that his pen and paper were stuck to his hands. He would hit his alarm clock, step on a sock, or brush by a book and find them all attached to him.
Peter tried to think what was causing this strange phenomenon. A bio- magnetic energy that his body might be producing? Static electricity? Magnetic personality?
Peter's adhesiveness made a bad situation worse one day. It was one of those bad days at school. His problem with things sticking to him had been going on for a couple of days, and it wasn't stopping, Mr. Schmitt wanted him to turn in the spider web project soon, but Peter had forgotten the formula because of the shock of the car driving at him, and Peter was looking forward to a nice rest at home. Unfortunately this didn't happen.
"Hey Parker!" came a cocky voice behind him.
"Run," came the voice in the back of his head. Every time Peter had heard the voice before he took its advice, but because of his bad day, Peter didn't feel like running. The ensuing conflict couldn't ruin his day anymore, could it?
Peter turned to see none other than Flash Thompson. He was wearing his green and gold letterman's jacket that he had received for playing football; he filled the jacket pretty well, it was almost a muscle shirt for him. Behind him was a group of friends that liked to follow him around. A lot of them were mindless jocks that just needed a leader to tell them who to pick on.
"Parker!" yelled Flash as he approached Peter. "Parker, my favorite sophomore. Nice to see you on this fine day."
Peter could spot Flash's false sympathy from a mile away, "What do you want Flash?" Peter asked in a weary tone.
"Well I wasn't going to ask for anything," Flash commented with a sly smile, "but as long as you're offering I could use a couple of bucks."
Peter knew that was coming. He hesitated as he considered his answer. "Sorry.but I don't have my wallet today."
Flash's sympathy disappeared immediately, "I heard you pause there. That means you're lying!" Flash grabbed Peter and slammed him against a near by wall. "I need some money, and you're going to give it to me!"
Peter was scared to death, why hadn't he listened to the voice? "Flash, I can't give you any money. I seriously don't have any money!"
Peter's statement just enraged Flash more. "You don't want to mess with me Parker. Would you like me to demonstrate the power and strength that I have?" With those words he lifted Peter off the ground. His back slid up the wall and his feet were flailing for something to stand on. "Now get ready for a crash landing."
Peter squinted as Flash let go of him-but nothing happened. Peter was sticking to the wall, dangling a foot or two above the ground.
"What the heck is this?" Flash asked. "Is this a joke?"
Flash and his friends started poking and prodding Peter to see why he was up there. Peter knew only bad could come from this.
"HAHAHA" Flash burst out laughing, "He's sticking to the wall like a piece of duct tape or something!"
"And you'll need to tape your face together if you don't duck!" came a voice from behind Flash.
Flash turned around to see what it was; his mistake. The only thing he saw was a hand flying towards his face, striking his head to the side. He yelled out in pain as the person's nails scraped his skin as the hand slid off his cheek. Four bloody lines streaked the side of his face.
Felicia Hardy was crouched in a fighting pose; her eyes were challenging Flash to do something to her.
"What the heck was that? You act like you're a freaking cat or something!" Flash spat at her.
"Worse than that, I'm a black cat. You cross my or anyone of my friend's path you better be prepared for bad luck." She hissed back.
"Flash, let's split before she does something crazy," one of Flash's buddies said.
Flash slowly backed up, staring at Felicia the whole time. He opened his mouth to say something, but choked it back and just growled. He gave Felicia a killer glare, which she returned with just as much intensity.
KERPLUMP!
Peter fell to the ground, and he amazingly landed with ease on all fours. Felicia looked at Peter's peculiar pose. He was crouching on the ground, but he was doing it with all of his limbs. The closest thing that Felicia could think that he looked like was a cheetah or a spider ready to attack.
"Do you enjoy being in that pose?" Felicia asked with a sound of curiosity mixed with sarcasm.
Peter snapped out of the deep trance he had fallen into. He lost the concentration he had on keeping the pose and fell on his face. He pulled himself up and looked at Felicia, "Thanks for getting me out of that.um.sticky situation."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As you already know, Peter is an intelligent young man. It didn't take him that long to realize that something was happening to him. Running at speeds faster than he has ever in his life, jumping farther than most track stars, and sticking to things at random times were bound to be recognized by Peter sooner or later. And being the scientific man that he is, he decided to run some tests on these abilities. Peter was sitting in his room, contemplating what experiments he should run to help him figure out the mysteries of these 'powers' he had acquired.
"Well, judging from the incident with Flash and his goons, my adhesiveness can support my body weight. Now, I'm hypothesizing that if I place my hand on the wall, then I should be able to stick to it."
As Peter said this he placed his hand on the wall. He let it rest there for a second, and then pulled it away with ease. "That's strange. Why wouldn't it stick now? Especially when I want it to. What did I do the other times that I'm not doing now?"
Peter immersed himself in thought as he remembered past events. Peter always went into a deep trance when he really wanted to analyze something. Nothing could disturb him; someone walking in on him might mistake him for dead. The only sign of life that he showed was his fingers drumming on the desk. It was a subconscious habit that happened whenever he concentrated on something else.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
There was a knock at Peter's door, but Peter didn't care. He was slowly cracking the riddle of the phenomenon. The door creaked open and Uncle Ben peeked in. "Peter," he said with no reply. "Peter, Peeeter, PETER!!" Ben was tired of kindly trying to get Peter's attention. He was familiar with this disconnection from the earth.
Peter came just enough out of the trance to pay attention to what Uncle Ben was saying. He knew that Uncle Ben was there, but he was still processing all of the information in the back of his head.
"Peter, your Aunt May and I are going out for dinner. Just whip a little something up for yourself if you get hungry. Any specific reason why you're picking up that pencil and putting it down over and over again?" and with that he left.
Peter looked down at his hand. A pencil that was on his desk had attached itself to his fingers and was now being drummed on the desk. This triggered an idea.
"Of course, it's a subconscious action. I can concentrate on doing it as much as I want, but it won't happen. I just have to do it."
Peter stuck his hand on a report that was lying on his desk, and then lifted his hand in the air. Instantly the term paper turned into fly paper, refusing to remove from his hand. And as easily as he had stuck it to his hand, it slipped off when Peter wanted to.
"Well, the next logical step would be to see how strong the adhesiveness is." Peter looked around the room for what would really test it. He came up with a perfect idea.
He placed both hands on the wall then tested to make sure they were attached to it. He hesitated for a second. This could hurt if it went wrong. He lifted his right leg and placed his foot on the wall. Next he did the same thing with his left leg.
Peter couldn't believe it-he was sticking to the wall! There was no explanation for what was happening. People just don't stick to walls. The worry left Peter's mind as a new idea took its place.
"WHOO HOO!!!" Peter yelled. He was standing on the chimney of his house, looking over the neighborhood. He easily jumped from roof to roof, doing aerial tricks every once in a while. Peter was having the biggest thrill of his life.
Peter made his way to the school. He bounded on to the roof and sat on an edge. There was a slight breeze as the sun was going down. Peter could imagine Gwen sitting next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, watching the beautiful colors in the sky.
After being in his fantasy world for a few minutes, Peter snapped back to reality. "Well that was a pretty good test. Now, what I really need is something to test these abilities to the max."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Please state your weight class and the name that you will be using for the competition." said the nasal voice of the lady behind the table.
Peter had no idea what possessed him to come here. He usually logically thought out ideas, considered the pros and the cons, and then made a rational decision. This was totally on impulse, and Peter was beginning to regret it.
"Umm.lightweight." Peter told the lady.
"And."
Peter was so nervous that he was drawing blanks, "And what?"
"Your name." was the annoyed response.
"Oh.that, right," Peter stammered. Peter replied with a description that he had heard a lot before, "Prodigy."
"No, too educational. What else?"
"Umm." Peter remembered jumping from roof to roof, "Ricochet?"
"That's good..wait, it's already been taken. Another?"
Peter thought of a name. He thought back at something that could be of some inspiration for a name. The memory of Harry's spider came back.
"Spider-Man," Peter told the lady.
"Interesting choice, but no one has it. I think we have a costume that you can use too. Go to the costume room, down the hall, third door on the right. Hand the man in there this slip of paper, he'll know what to do."
Peter walked to the costume room, trembling the whole way. He wasn't a fighter, he never was. Flash always picked on him, and did it with great ease. So why in the world did he sign up for a wrestling tournament??
Peter entered the dressing room and handed the paper to a thin, bald man that was measuring another wrestler. The man scanned the paper then went into another room. He immerged a moment later with a cover bag and handed it to Peter. "Go through that door, take the first right, and you'll find a bunch of stalls to change and a locker to put your stuff in."
Peter walked through the door, into the hall, and then into a dressing stall. He unzipped the bag and pulled out the spandex uniform that was inside. There were three pieces. The first one that he looked over was the mask. It was red with black webbing sewn into it. There were two big white eyes with a black border that showed Peter's reflection. He slipped the mask on and realized the eyes were one-way mirrors, he could see out but no one could see in.
Next he pulled out the upper half of the uniform. It was similar to the mask; it was red with webbing sewn into it, gloves attached to the sleeves, and a spider in the middle of the chest. There was blue on the under part of the arm that continued into the side of his chest and stomach. He took of his shirt and put on the costume.
The last part was the pants. They were blue with red boots attached at the bottom. He slipped those on and looked at himself in the mirror. "I look like something out of a comic book," he commented when he saw his reflection. Then something caught his eye.
"Dang, I've got a nice body. This spandex really accentuates muscles." He flexed his muscles in different poses, admiring himself. "Maybe I should show Gwen this. She won't be able to resist me."
His admiration was interrupted by an announcement over the P.A. "Will 'Spider-Man' please report to the preparation area, you're on in five minutes," came the grizzled voice.
After seeing his reflection, Peter had gained a much needed confidence boost. He walked towards the shouts of the crowd, ready to face the challenge that awaited him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for a wild match as these quick and agile lightweights face off in a battle for five hundred dollars!! In this corner, we have Amazing, the Ultimate SPIDER-MAN!!"
The crowd showed some enthusiasm as Peter was introduced. As the crowd cheered and as Peter looked at his opponent, reality set in. Peter was about to go against an experienced wrestler and probably get his butt whooped. "What the heck was I thinking? I'm probably going to die and Aunt May and Uncle Ben won't even know," Peter muttered to himself nervously.
"And in the opposite corner, we have the Dangerous, the Mysterious, PROWLER!!"
Peter looked at his opponent and nearly wet his pants. Staring straight back at him was a purple mask with two black spots with white slits where the eyes would be. His purple gloves gave the appearance that he had claws. He had a green shirt with a white insignia of a skull and some green pants. The Prowler looked ready to kill, and Peter did not want to be his prey.
The bell rang and Prowler immediately sprang into the air, flying towards Peter. Peter dove to the side, barely avoiding Prowler as he hit the ground, but Prowler didn't miss a beat. He landed and instantly shifted his weight to tackle Peter. Peter tried to break free of the grip, but he failed.
Prowler lifted Peter above his head and threw him at the ropes. Peter somersaulted through the airs and landed on the ropes with perfect balance. "HA! Didn't hurt!" Peter yelled at Prowler.
"Now ask him if his husband wrestles," came the voice.
Prowler ran towards Peter, but Peter just jumped over him. "Hey Prowler, does your husband wrestle too?"
This infuriated Prowler, and he started to go crazy. "Hey kid, why don't you shut up and stand still? I'll make it a lot less painful."
Peter was tired of playing defense, so he ran at Prowler. When he had closed the distance between them he lashed out his leg and kicked Prowler on the side of his head. Prowler spun once and fell on the ground. Peter picked him up and slammed him on the ground.
The official got into the ring and slid next to Prowler. He counted to ten, but Prowler hadn't moved at all. "HE'S DOWN! SPIDER-MAN IS THE WINNER!!"
The crowd went wild. Peter scanned the crowd and looked at all the people cheering for him. No one had ever given him such a reaction for something he did, and he had definitely never received praise for winning a fight. This had to be the greatest moment in his life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Three-hundred, four-hundred, five-hundred. It's all there," the manager said as he handed Peter the money. "You were pretty good out there. Would you be interested in being a regular? You could earn more money."
Peter was hesitant, but then he thought of what he could do with a load of cash. "Sure, why not?"
"Great," the manager replied, "We have a couple of extra suits like that one. Go to the dressing room and give Lee, the costumer, this slip and say you're a regular."
Peter took the slip and headed for the dressing room. He gave the slip to the man who was there before. Lee went into the back room to grab something. Peter scanned the room while he was waiting. He was so nervous the first time that he didn't notice all the cool things that were in the room. Bright costumes were strewn all over the place, giving the room a more vibrant look. The tables had tape measurers, needles, thread, and drawing pads on them. Pictures and award hung on the wall commending Mr. Lee of his creative designs.
Mr. Lee returned with an armful of cover slips. "Here are your extra costumes. They are all about the same. If you ever need repair just bring them in."
Peter took the costumes, "Thanks," he told Lee. Mr. Lee turned to the table and started working on a drawing. Peter left and went to a locker that the manager had assigned him. He hung up the costumes and realized he still had his on.
Peter was heading for the dressing room when he heard a crash behind him. He turned around and saw a man sprinting towards him. Afraid of a collision, Peter stepped to the side and let him pass. A second later the manager burst out of his office.
"Robbery! Somebody stop that guy! He just stole my money!" he came out yelling. When he saw that Peter had let the guy pass, his anger doubled. "Kid, why didn't you stop the freaking guy?? He just got away with my money."
Peter was mad that he was being blamed for this, "I'm a wrestler, not a security guard. Get your own guy to stop him. Anyways, it's not like it effects me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Peter walked home. He relived the match in his head. He laughed at Prowler and how stupid he was to try and beat the Amazing Spider-Man. Of course, the fact that he was about to pee his pants at the beginning totally slipped his mind.
Peter entered his house and paused. There was an eerie silence, like something was out of place. The light on the answering machine was blinking. He walked over and pushed the play button.
"Hello, this is Officer Phelps from the New York Police Department. I'm looking for someone from the Parker residence. We have a patient at the Waterside Hospital that has been identified as a Parker, and the patient is about to die. If you can, try and make it here as soon as you can."