Spider-man

Business Part III

Powers

Peter sat in his armchair going over his memories of the night before. From what he thought he actually remembered he had been bitten by a spider outside his house while going to collect some paracetamol for his Aunt May. He'd collapsed at the end of the road due to what he believed was a side affect of the spider bite and two men in black suits had put him in a van. He'd awoken twice after that, hearing only glimpses of conversations but he remembered distinctly "too bad Smythe couldn't make this one. It must be pretty serious anyway; I just hope he'll be able to watch the other one. Hey, he's waking up…" You don't forget something like that and Smythe was quite an unusual name so this helped even more. Peter deduced that he'd then been drugged again but he didn't have a clue what had really happened that night.

Maybe it was all a bad dream and he had actually collected the paracetamol and the watched that Clint Eastwood movie with his Uncle Ben that night. As Peter was thinking his Uncle walked in and sat in his usual place. Still trying to understand what had happened that night Peter asked something had been bugging him all through breakfast.

"So why didn't you go and get the paracetamol last night Uncle Ben?"

"Oh, I wasn't feeling too good either, although I couldn't tell your Aunt May that" Ben Parker replied with a quick chuckle "she'd only worry herself into feeling even worse, you know how much she fusses."

"I sure do, remember that time when I caught chicken pox. You'd think the doctor had given me only days to live," Peter answered jokingly, "You know what, that was the best week of my life."

Ben watched him as he lolled back, staring at the ceiling in mock ecstasy as he remembered the luxuries his Aunt had given him that week. Peter was almost seventeen now but was still quite a small, gangly lad who wore glasses and enjoyed school, the nerd personified some would say, if they knew what it meant. Sadly for Peter, being a nerd wasn't a good thing. From his broken glasses to his hand me down clothes, he might as well have carried round a sign that said "I'm a nerd, hit me." However, the one good thing about being a nerd is the intelligence that comes with it. Ben had often seen Peter sneak past the jocks after school in some very impressive ways although he doubted they would have noticed him anyway, with him being so much smaller than them. As Ben drifted back from his memories and into the real world he watched a disturbing site. Peter was doubled up over the side of his chair vomiting violently. He couldn't see Peter throwing up as peter had his back turned to him so he didn't feel as nauseated as he usually did at times like these.

Between bursts of vomiting Ben made out two words, "ripple and "ceiling". Confused as to what these meant he just ignored them for now and ran off to find a bucket and alert Aunt May. They rushed back to find the room empty except for a pile of thick white liquid in the shape of a spiral at the side of Peter's chair.

From the diary of Spencer Smythe

June 17th

All projects are going well, I have been fired from SHIELD and I have invested money in a small company in the middle of the city, which specialises in developing new cleaning materials. Nobody will know my real plans for this insignificant company but phase 1 is almost complete. The business is already evolving and growing with a helping hand from some dummy companies. Its value is growing and I'm finding it gradually easier to bring in new, talented men for the future of the company. I have kept my son's mind busy on a replacement for the philosopher's stone. His mind is sharp so I must force him to put all his energies into this idea in case he notices what I'm doing. The hunt has begun for test subjects

August 29th

I don't believe it. Alistaire has cracked the formula. All these years, I lied to him about my interest in the occult and the philosophers stone and now he gives me a near perfect opportunity. My son has delivered to me the gift of immortality. This will make latter phases a lot easier to fulfil.

September 2nd

The immortality serum had some interesting side effects making it almost useless to me. I have made a copy of Alistaire's notes for future use and I have let him continue work on it in an attempt to correct it. The failed subject is locked in the basement being watched for any more side effects. It could well become a danger to society if let loose. A canister of the serum has also been replicated and is being stored in my safe.

December 12th

All plans are coming to fruition. Phase 3 is complete, Alistaire is still working on the serum but he is failing to correct it. The bomb is placed. Nobody will survive; I even planted a body to represent me. My only regret is that I couldn't take Alistaire with me, but he can be replaced.

An Extract from the Daily Bugle

CHEMICAL ACCIDENT KILLS PARENTS, SON SURVIVES

Yesterday evening a freak accident occurred at the house of Spencer and Mary Smythe. Spencer Smythe the famous ex-chemical weapon designer for SHIELD and the US army had lived in the house for over 20 years and now as he was becoming more desperate for a way to feed his family a chemically triggered cluster bomb was accidentally set off in his basement lab. Evidence was found that someone had tried to shut down the lab to protect the family but they were too slow. Mary and Spencer Smythe were found at the base of the stairs and some 300 metres away in the surrounding forest, their only son Alistaire was found unscathed. The police don't know how the bomb was set off or how Alistaire made it 300 metres away and was unscathed. The doctors checking Alistaire over replied to all of our questions with "No Comment". Our sympathies go out to the friends and family of Spencer and Mary Smythe.

"How's Parker been this morning Beck?"

"Success Dr Stromm, the first signs of some sort of change. Early this morning he vomited what looked like web. He then climbed up onto the ceiling and sat in the corner while his Aunt and Uncle searched for him." A black haired scientist transmitted through a radio while watching Peter through his view screen. "Now he's sitting outside on his garden wall and thinking by the looks of it"

"Wonderful news Beck, I'll inform "him" A.S.A.P," replied Stromm before returning to watching Gargan being prepped by Dr Stillwell

Peter had been sitting on his garden wall for over 2 hours now trying to get to grips with what had happened this morning. He had been staring at the ceiling again when it had begun to ripple again. He'd become very nauseated very quickly and had dived over the side of his armchair and thrown up this weird sticky white stuff. But the white stuff wasn't what was bothering him anymore; it was the fact that no-one else felt nauseated by the rippling ceiling and the fact that the ceiling was rippling in the first place.

During all the time he'd been sitting here thinking he'd sneezed the weird white stuff four times and had thrown up twice. There was a nice pile of white ooze growing under his feet but surprisingly again this wasn't what he found strange. No one had walked down the street, no cars had driven down the street and Peter couldn't hear any body or any cars in the distance. He had knocked at several houses in the road but at every one had been answered with nothing. No one was anywhere near here except his Aunt, his Uncle and him.

Peter sat here for the next hour deliberating the circumstances before returning indoors to see his Aunt and Uncle.

"Is he ready yet Stillwell?" Dr Stromm asked impatiently.

"Yes, he's ready now, you better call Smythe, he'll want to see his acid in action"

"Smythe where the hell are you?" Stromm immediately muttered into his radio.

"I'll be… there…in a… minute. Arghhh!" came the reply from Smythe's radio in an otherworldly voice followed by a cry of pain.

"Smythe? Smythe? Someone get to his lab, he needs help." Stromm ordered to the lad assistants surrounding him and Dr Stillwell.

"It's okay Stromm, I'm here now," came Smythes voice containing none of it's etherealness from over Stromm's shoulder as the assistants began to rush off to the lab. "Just another of my headaches."

"Sounded like one heck of a headache Alistaire, you had us all worried." He stated while motioning for the assistants to come back. "How did you get here so fast anyway?"

"I was only in lab 4, just a quick jog to get here"

"Really…" Stromm answered disbelievingly knowing that he had answered with the radio in his office. "Anyway, we're just about to test Gargan. Farley if you would."

At his signal Dr Stillwell lowered Mac Gargan on a harness into a large pit. The harness was automatically unbuckled pulling a tube from his arm and waking him up. He began to move around, swishing his tail as he went, side stepping in what seemed like a random fashion but as Stillwell pressed a button on the dashboard the monitor showed the fictional world he was walking round in.

"Release the Slayers" Stromm ordered the computer.

In the corner of the screen the three sleek silver robots entered the pit and the fictional world. Gargan turned instantly almost instinctively releasing a burst of acid from his tail burning a hole in the first bot's chest plate. The remaining two bots circled him trying to use their melee upgrades like the chainsaw hand pieces but Gargan deflected them with his tail easily. One of the bots flipped the saw to the shotgun attachment but before it could finish changing attachments Gargan had sliced right through the bot with the spike on his tail. The other bot however succeeded in switching to the shotgun and fired two shells. The shell's fell to the floor in pieces and where they had hit him his skin had become black and scaly.

"My god, when did we make that?" Smythe exclaimed.

"We didn't," Stillwell replied, "It's an unforeseen side effect. His skin seems to have become the scale like armour of the scorpion to protect his body from harm. He's evolving already."

Gargan quickly disposed of the last bot, grabbing it by one of its legs and its head, holding it above his head and slicing it in half with the power of his tail.

Stillwell pressed another button on the dashboard and he collapsed on the ground.

"Good thing I installed a sedative chip in his brain before we administered the serum. I mean a tranquilliser dart isn't exactly going to work is it" Stillwell chuckled.

As Peter arrived inside the house, the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end, he knew something was wrong and he knew what. Somehow, he knew that someone else was in the room with him. His eyes were deceiving him, he saw no one yet he "knew" that someone was there, watching him. He looked around the room searching for the intruder and his eyes finally landed on the ceiling. Again it began to ripple and Peter had to run outside where he lent on a nearby lamp-post with the palm of his right hand while he threw up the strange white fluid again.

After a large pile had been excreted at his feet he stood up straight again but as he tried to pull his hand from the lamppost it wouldn't let go. He was stuck to it. He pulled harder and the lamppost began to give. It was coming out of the ground. Peter relaxed and in a moment of instinct he pulled the metal post from the ground and held it over his shoulder like a baseball bat. He struck out at where he "felt" his intruder was and saw a strange ripple at the end of the post fly into an invisible wall in the middle of the street and slump at the bottom.

Peter tried to shake the lamp off his hand as if it were merely a toy. The slumped form hissed, crackled and showed itself for what it really was. It flickered into appearance showing a man in a white lab coat with a gas mask lying next to him. He was crumpled up on the floor eyes closed with blood dripping from his nose. The lamppost dropped from Peter's hand as he rushed over to the man and found on his coat thousands of tiny cameras.

He picked up the gas mask and placed it around his mouth. He picked up the lamppost and prepared himself for what he knew was coming. Gunfire, from all directions.