Author's Note: Hello, fellow readers and Fanfiction members! After a while of thinking over my previous version of this story, I decided to redo it under a different title. For those who don't know, this story was previously titled The Sensational Spider-Man and was to involve a series of events centered around Peter Parker discovering the mysteries of his parents while balancing his civilian life with fighting villains related to those past events. While it sounded cool at first, I realized it would have bogged the series from all the normal high school student and Spider-Man stuff that could have made it fun. And thus, the story is now titled Marvelous Web-head and will center around the first of many years where Peter adjusts to his hero life while trying to balance it with his civilian life and the two cross paths in ways unlike any other. So, without further adieu, enjoy it, readers!
Marvelous Web-head #1: Homecoming Affairs
The streets of Manhattan were quite busy now that night had passed over the land. Down below the cars streaked the night with their bright lights and filled the noisy, smoggy air with blaring horns. The constant traffic turned what was thought to be a peaceful, dull evening into a hectic mess of people driving/riding home from work for the evening. While the streets proved to be the ultimate source of daily drama for the residents of Manhattan, up above, a different story was about to be told.
A lone black widow spider crawled across its specially made web it had created between the side and gutters of a somewhat tall building. Then, like a streak of light, a much larger, more agile figure whooshed by, causing the spider to fly off its web, shooting a web line from its rear-end to catch itself before it fell. The figure tumbled, hopped, and flipped across the buildings in an acrobatic fashion, its brightly colored red and blue spider-themed suit remaining surprisingly ambiguous in the low light high above the city. As he ran across a building, past a series of mounted gargoyles, he proceeded to leap high above the streets, shooting out a silky, spider web-like strand of cord from a silver gadget lining his wrist. With a loud cowboy interjection, the figure swung around a building nearby and landed on his feet, sticking to and and running across the wall with ease. Not caring about who would see him like this, the primary colored being leapt far across toward another building, thinking to himself about all the freedom he had in the world.
Admit it, Pete, things don't get much better than this, the figure thought as he spun another web. When you spend your summer vacation becoming a hero, nothing can top the feeling of freedom! The wind blowing across your body, the webs you spin that dry out later, the power to fight crime; nothing could be better!
"I am THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN!" the figure named Spider-Man called out into the night. He swung across several buildings and perched on top a falcon statue jutting out from the Chrysler Building.
Just one thing's missing, though, it's my last night of freedom before my first day of school and I'm really craving some action, Spider-Man thought longingly.
A physical alarm rang out into the night, his enhanced hearing tuning in far enough to make it out even hundreds of feet below. Without questioning what he ought to do, Spider-Man leapt far from his perch, letting gravity take him to the streets until he spun a web that saved his life at the last second. He web swing maneuvered his way through the buildings as best as he could, making his turns rather unprofessionally, but still managing to get around them without crashing into anything like what would have happened if this were several months ago. Things were different enough since then that he had gotten mostly used to his powers, but still he had many kinks to work out.
He continued to follow the source of the alarm sound until he tumbled and landed feet first onto the asphalt in front of a convenience store. Concentrating his senses to detect any life forms nearby, he scanned the building, squinting his eyes to make out the heat signatures of three different people inside the structure - two near the front, one near the back. The clarity of his heat signature detection was far from perfect, yet he didn't need to see what was going on inside to know there was trouble.
So some average lowlifes decided to rob a convenience store at this hour… Not on my watch!
Cracking his knuckles, Spidey then shifted his web shooters to a comfortable position, ran toward the door, and kicked it open. Having made a scene in the midst of the alarm-filled convenience store, everyone, including the hostage, turned to face the Web-head as he made his entrance.
"El Hombre de Araña!" cried out the Hispanic cashier being held at gunpoint.
"Keep your mouth shut, or he gets it!" the masked criminal wearing a cowboy hat ordered, nudging his gun toward the man's head.
"You know, if you didn't call my name out in Spanish, I could have easily surprised everyone," Spidey quipped. "Ah, who am I kidding? I'm the one making a hell of an entrance here!"
Raising his handgun pointed away from the hostage, the Western-themed criminal upfront fired a barrage of bullets at Spider-Man. Seeing the bullets zoom toward him as if in slow motion, his sixth sense known as "Spider Sense" kicked into gear, the back of his skull tingling like an alarm going off in his head. Without even a second thought, the Web-head leapt off the floor, Spider Sense guiding him. Launching a web out backward, Spider-Man retreated to the corner of the store just above the shelves containing essentials such as bread.
"Whoa, hold on! Isn't there a way to resolve this without gun violence?" Spidey pleaded, feigning meekness.
A bullet whizzed by his head, impacting the wall near where he dodged.
"So you don't wanna talk?" Spidey asked rapidly. He leapt off the wall. "Fine, don't say I didn't warn you!"
Dodging a few more bullets, he flipped onto the floor, spinning out a webline that latched onto the barrel of the gunman's firearm right as he shot. The shot echoed loudly off the walls, but the bullet traveled nowhere, the web blocking it from traveling out of the barrel.
"What the hell?!" the criminal exclaimed.
Spidey pulled the webline, yanking the weapon out of the crook's hand. He webbed the gun to the floor as the now gunless criminals charged at him, fists ready, and started flailing on him. The Web-head dodged each punch with super precision skills.
"Lucky for you, I pull my punches!" Spidey told him as he pulled two punches on him, finishing him with a kick that impacted him so hard he went flying across the floor. The criminal landed near the front entrance with a thud so bone-cracking, his bones could have easily broken. Though he never broke bones intentionally, Spidey couldn't have been prouder of his spider powers.
But there still remained the other criminal. He needed to apprehend his buddy or else he'd get out there and hurt more people.
Without hesitation, Spidey flew up to the low ceiling to get a bird's eye view of the place. His quick eyes locked onto the criminal hesitantly reaching for the emergency exit door handle - which he figured was likely the way they came in - knowing that Spider-Man was about to come after him.
"Oh no, you don't!" Spidey called out, using his webs to propel himself in that direction. Before the criminal could react, Spidey pounced on him, pinning him to the floor with his super strength that kept him from squirming. "Don't tell me, you're scared of how strong I am and think I might kill ya! Well, newsflash for you and your buddy: I don't kill."
"That won't stop us from killing you!" the criminal underneath him taunted. "We look for people to murder so often it don't matter so long as we get equal share!"
"Equal share?" Spidey questioned. "You're the one making a run for it. Without you, your pal would take all the pay for himself!"
"Feeling merciful are you, Web-head?"
"For your information, we serve justice to lowlifes like you! Though, I'll admit, the cops are better at it so I say it's best I leave you for them to take away!" Spidey explained before proceeding to headbutt the criminal between the eyes. The guy's head recoiled as he fell out cold. He could no longer resist Spidey webbing him upside down by a web line to hang from the ceiling above. Hopefully, the blood wouldn't rush to his head before the cops arrived.
Behind Spider-Man, the clerk emerged from behind the counter to approach his savior who was undoubtedly glad he came when he did.
"T-thank you, S-Spider-Man!" the grateful man stuttered.
"Don't mention it!" he said. "And do tell the cops this was all courtesy of Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man! The Press already gives me enough of a bad rep as it is!"
"T-that would be… muy bueno!" the man stated, regaining his composure. "I'll… P-put in a good word for you and all other vigilantes then!"
The red and blue lights of the cop cars drove up outside, blending with Spidey's red and blue figure as they doused the store in their color scheme.
"That's my queue to leave!" Spidey noted. Hoping to not be seen, Spidey swung out the back door even if it wasn't legal. For all he knew, it was the only way to avoid confrontation.
The cop cars came to a stop outside, the entire unit busting out of their vehicles and scanning the perimeter, their handguns pointed down the lit up street. After one of them shouted "Clear!", a single graying haired man with a rough build in his early fifties stepped out of his car and made an entrance. Donning a navy blue commissioner uniform, he carried a pistol and kicked the door of the store open, pointing his gun in all directions that the clerk wasn't.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!" the man called out, forcing the clerk to do as instructed. His unit followed, pouring their way into the store. Sidearms out, they scanned the area searching for any signs of criminal activity only to find both of them were either out cold or webbed up hanging from the ceiling. Seeing this, the commissioner was rather unimpressed, suspicious, at best, of what all had occurred prior to his arrival.
"Is anyone here hurt?" asked a cop.
"No, sir," the man stated.
"What happened here?" the captain asked, his gruff voice silencing everyone else in the vicinity. "Were you with these guys?"
"These two masked men thought they could sneak in from the emergency exit and rob my store while I wasn't looking. I tried to do something, but one of them held me up while the other tried to steal some beers out of the alcohol section. That was when the vigilante Spider-Man showed up and beat them with his own brute strength! If it weren't for him, I would have been hurt or, worse, killed!"
"So you did nothing while Spider-Man showed up?"
"I could have done something, but I was afraid one false move could have been my death."
"So Spider-Man is still at large… Did he attempt to hurt you?"
"No, sir. He just took them down and left. I just wanna say I do believe he did a great job and that everything the Press says about him is all lies! He'd be a great support for your unit."
"Permission to speak, Captain Stacy!" announced one of the lower ranking cops with his chocolate brown irises and a clean shaven appearance.
"Permission granted, Officer Carter," provoked Captain Stacy.
"He's right about Spider-Man. He seems to be doing our job, and rather well I might add. Shouldn't we consider him an ally of sorts?"
Unfortunately for him, the captain had already made up his mind. "A vigilante's a vigilante, officer. The work they do takes the law out of our hands. If they're constantly beating us to the scene, we may yet have nothing left to do. As long as this one's still out there, he's outside the law."
"B-but sir-" the clerk insisted.
"All I do is enforce the law, I can't change it. Unless they say otherwise, I simply must follow orders."
The clerk nodded at the captain's words of wisdom. He did have a point, even if some of them were reluctant to admit it out loud. Moreover, he was the NYPD commissioner, John Stacy. What he said was final in the eyes of the law no matter if anyone else believed he was wrong.
As Spider-Man swung his way through the concrete canyons of New York, the constant blaring of car horns and police sirens was just distant noise to him through the updrafts he felt while swinging. Reaching into his suit pocket, he checked his phone, his spider-like hairs gripping it tightly in an otherwise turbulent environment. All he wanted to do was make sure he didn't get too many Instagram or Facebook notifications during his crimestopping show. Just for fun, he decided to take a selfie in midair, the flash on his phone illuminating his brightly colored suit in the night light. Nothing could have been better for his own self-serving ego.
"And that concludes our broadcast day!" he shouted, mimicking the nature of a classic TV broadcaster. "What time is it anyway?"
Flipping through the phone screens while swinging, his stomach sank the moment he read it was eleven thirty-seven at night.
"Almost midnight?!" he exclaimed. "Oh no, Aunt May's gonna fry my ass if I'm not home before then! Gotta make it back to Queens and fast!"
Without any hesitation, Spidey swooped away, shooting himself over and around buildings as he made his way en route to the bridge that connected Manhattan to Queens. While the Web-head was clearly the talk of the town, little did everyone know the façade he wore on a daily basis was nothing, but the secret life of a resident who grew up in Queens, New York his entire life: Peter Benjamin Parker. From an early age, Peter was left in the care of his Aunt May and Uncle Ben after his parents mysteriously left him at their household around the age of six. As such, Peter always led such a sheltered life, which led to him possessing an intellect similar to Albert Einstein's. As a student, he had a history of receiving many honors for being the smartest thinker in Midtown Manhattan High School located in the heart of Manhattan. It was through a field trip with his class that he wandered off in a science exhibit only to get bitten by a genetically-altered spider that gave him superpowers from which he donned a secret identity. If anyone at his school or beyond Manhattan knew of his secret identity, it would have spelled a world of doom for him given the kind of world he lived in; this was a world where various superheroes - namely the Avengers or Fantastic Four - defended Earth from planet-ending disasters and villains trying to cause them. Thankfully, Peter and his work as Spider-Man only kept confined to the bounds of New York as he mainly took pleasure in stopping small petty crimes around the place. If anything happened around there, he'd be the first to know.
Having traversed the seemingly endless cityscape and made his way into the suburbs of Queens, Spider-Man perched upon his house roof, trying not to cause too much racket as to wake his Aunt May should she be asleep. He crawled like a spider along the roof, the hairs penetrating his thin costume fabric and allowing him to stick to the tiles without falling, and peaked into the upstairs bedroom window. To his surprise and relief, he found his Aunt May kneeling at the edge of her bed, her gray-haired appearance facing away from her as she prayed to the Lord Almighty above presumably for Peter to return home.
Don't worry, Aunt May. God wasn't the only thing protecting me tonight, Peter thought to himself.
He then proceeded to leap down from the window, touching down on the walkway leading to his front door. Approaching the entrance, his folded clothes awaited him sitting on the porch, which he kept hidden thankfully. He threw on his long sleeve shirt and jeans over his spider-themed costume, put on his shoes, and attempted to act casual. He stomped a few steps on the porch to make it sound like he was walking up, turned the door knob, and poked his head into the darkened foyer to see that the coast was clear. Stepping into the home, he turned around and shut the door only to be met with footsteps approaching him from the staircase behind him.
"Peter, dear! You're alright!" called out the aging Aunt May in her fifties as she made her way down the staircase dressed in her brightly colored nightie.
Attempting to look surprised, Peter turned around, eyes widened as Aunt May approached him. "Aunt May… you're awake," he said, faking hesitancy rather convincingly. "I'm so sorry I'm home late, I-"
"Not now, Peter. We need to talk," Aunt May said, walking right up to Peter, her height not even reaching his the moment she laid a hand on his shoulder. Without hesitancy, Peter followed her into the dining room, his heart rate quickening as she led him there. What would she say to scold him for being out so late - and on the last night before school starts no less? He turned to her attention. "Listen, Peter, you're becoming a strong young man, the man of the house now, in fact. But I can't have you staying out close to midnight, especially on a school night. I prayed day and night for you to return home safely, and thank heavens you're okay! But you must remember what happened to our beloved Ben last time he stayed out this late. I simply cannot allow that to happen to you too."
Peter slumped at the memory of what she was talking about. That fateful night a few months ago in March when he decided to use his newfound powers for selfish gain. After an intense argument between him and Uncle Ben transpired in front of Aunt May, Peter used his powers to run away and enter a wrestling match, which he won before the place got robbed by some random crook. He selfishly let the guy escape the place only to find out later that someone, who turned out to be the same thief, shot down Uncle Ben on his walk home. It was the reason Peter decided to use his powers for good and stop crime on a dime. According to Aunt May, however, the fact that he secretly decided to keep it going so late was definitely starting to worry her, especially after what happened that night.
"Aunt May, I'm sorry, I just-I know you miss him. I do too. I'm just not sure how to cope without him around," Peter admitted, trying to relate to her previous statement.
"There are plenty of ways you can do that without staying out late worrying me. Which is why I'm establishing a new rule: starting this school year, you are to be home by no later than 10 o'clock. If, however, you find yourself running late, feel free to call to let me know you're on your way home," Aunt May professed sternly. "Do we have an agreement?"
Peter didn't have to think too hard about what to answer. He might have been a big shot hero trying to save the day on a regular basis, but, apart from that, he was still just a scrawny sixteen-year-old needing to live under his aunt's roof. He might as well abide by her rules no matter what. "Sure thing, Aunt May. I admit, I still need your caretaking skills and, if I'm to take care of myself someday soon, I may as well take care of you too!"
"Good news: you've passed the first test of earning my trust! Keep it up, and you'll be rewarded!" Aunt May said, patting her nephew on the shoulder.
To this, Peter smiled. He may not have been an expert on being a person, but, if there was one person he knew he could count on to get closer to achieving that, it would be his Aunt May. For all he knew, he may never reach perfection, but, in his mind nobody came closer to achieving that quite like her. As the man of the house, he knew he would accept his responsibility, vowing never to disappoint her.
The red and white sign lit brightly the words "Big Sky Billiards" in a clarion call that attracted patrons to the underground billiard room hiding underneath. Little did the regular patrons know that at night most of the attendees were of the criminal variety. Thankfully, no one had to be there during the hours of the night besides those belonging to the underworld.
A lone man in a large white cowboy hat and Southern-themed attire strode down the staircase leading directly to the billiard room and bar. With all the strength he possessed, he carried equipment he had been utilizing to spy on a recent subject. Gathering his binoculars and recording device, he approached the sublevel door, peering over his shoulder and scowling darkly under his hat to ensure he hadn't been followed. The way he did business was not to be compromised.
He pushed the door open to the full view of the billiard room, his presence garnering the attention of a few select patrons in the midst of a card game.
"Look here, boys, Montana's back!" one of them with a heavy New York accent announced under the bar noise.
Montana strode through the crowd en route to the bar stools, passing all the men of different criminal divisions drinking, playing card games, taking shots on the pool tables, and arm wrestling one another to prove who was the strongest. Having been late to his own meeting, he wasted no time moseying up toward the bar counter, taking his seat at the central bar stool, and throwing his equipment aside, his presence alone bringing the bartender to attention. The others sitting around him stared at him eagerly as if awaiting special news to be delivered.
"My favorite lager, on the fly!" Montana demanded speaking in his Southern accent. He threw his cash down on the counter aggressively.
"Will do, sir!" the bartender saluted, his Australian accent striking hard with the patrons sitting around him. With that, he hurried to pull out Montana's drink: an American lager he so passionately favored. The bartender slid it over to him, Montana catching it firmly and popping the cap clean off. With a big sip, he slammed the drink down hard onto the counter, the jolting pound causing a surge throughout the immediate area.
"Thank ya very much!" Montana respected the bartender despite what little respect he carried for other people. He turned to face everyone else, gathering their attention without much difficulty. "Now, I bet y'all are wondering why I invited y'all here in the first place."
They all shrugged in different ways, confused as to why this would be such an impromptu meeting.
"Dunno."
"Beats me!"
"I'm completely outta the loop on this one."
Hearing these reactions, Montana stood up and leaned against the bar with a cool demeanor. "Okay then, here's the spill: did some reconnaissance at the convenience store nearby to make sure our leader and fellow Criminal Deputy were safe in robbing the place. They broke into the place, held up the cashier, and, low and behold, a figure donning red and blue leaped in and saved the day! Any idea what that means?"
"That you're crazy and need your head checked?" one of his fellow men joked.
"Not at all, son. This means our suspicions are confirmed: the bug man is real," Montana confirmed.
"No way!"
"This is insane!"
"And I thought one masked vigilante picking us off was enough."
"So did I, but then the big man I work for showed me security footage of this bug taking down my men once before tonight and decided to make it a priority to have him eliminated. Claims it'll spread his influence beyond the usual business of taking out hitman after hitman, hoping to take control of our fair city here," Montana explained.
"Sir…" said one of his men toward which Montana scowled at because he called him incorrectly. "Sorry, Montana, if I may ask what's the name of this 'big man' you keep mentioning? He sounds pretty important if you ask me."
"Careful what you say around here, son," Montana affirmed. "The big man had me swear not to mention his name. If I did, there'd be civil unrest in the criminal underworld. Rebellion even. Anyhow, the most important thing we focus on is how to eliminate this bug whom they call 'Spider-Man' before he picks us all off completely. Before I continue, does anyone have any ideas?"
The few of them paused for a moment, trying to conjure up any genius ideas that could potentially catch someone as agile as the rumors regarding Spider-Man claimed to be. However, almost none of them could reach any conclusions.
"I'm kind of stumped right now."
"Not sure."
"This old mook's running outta good ideas."
"Very well, if no one else is willing to step up and give their take on it, allow me to give mine: how's about we act like Robin Hood and take from the rich to give to us poor fellows?" Montana asked firmly.
"What do you mean?" asked the meekest one in the bunch.
"Here's the deal: a few former colleagues of mine work for this high end science company looking to push the boundaries of technology, medicine, and any sort of human enhancement you could think of. Their name: Oscorp. They all put together loads of high tech weapon contributions for our American military and beyond. If we take what they plan on selling to their associates, we could take out the bug with ease. Not only that, but I've been looking to steal a device meant to compliment this snazzy new outfit I've been dreaming up. If we can steal all that under the radar, the bug won't stand a chance," Montana finished. There was an air of certainty as the criminal lowlifes exchanged each other looks of excitement, proud of Montana for his foolproof plan.
"Wow, that's so genius, why didn't I think of that?" the bigger guy said proudly.
"If that's what you think we should do, you should be our new leader!" another man suggested.
"Lucky for you boys, I just happened to be entrusted to take over should our leader get arrested. Since he did and what not, I reckon it's about time for Montana Herman Schultz to make his mark on his fellow Criminal Deputies," Montana affirmed, lowering his cowboy hat to shade his shady appearance further in the low bar light. If there was anything the previous leader could count on it was that Montana had a plan to make their gang even bigger than ever with the idea to enact a series of heists on Oscorp. Should they come to fruition, the Criminal Deputies would become the heroes of their own story, trumping even the most noble heroes of New York City.
Thank you all for reading this revamped chapter if you came back to read it! Stay tuned as I figure out more of what to do with this story next however long it takes!