September 9th 2016

Peter looked up from his journal as he heard the appartment door open. He quickly slid it back under his mattress before greeting May with a warm hug. As soon as he told her about Liz's party, she went into full-panic mode.

"Okay, what do you need? Are your shirts ironed? Do you want me to cut your hair? I'll definitely drive you there..."

"May it's... it's just a party, not a gala, okay? Can we just... chill?" His voice cracked a little.

May studied Peter for a few seconds. "Okay, I understand, you're nervous and I'm not helping, am I? You go get ready, and I'll get started on dinner, deal?"

"Deal," Peter answered with a sigh of relief.

On the way to the party they picked up Ned, who was wearing a fedora for the occasion.

"Ned, some hats wear men. You wear that hat!" May told him.

"Yeah. It gives me confidence," Ned confessed with a smile.

Peter was too nervous to follow their conversation though. He was staring strait at the house, thinking about Ned's "plan" and how much he was going to hate it. The house was huge, and he could see that dozens of people were already there, talking, eating, drinking, and dancing.

They finally got out of the car and entered the house, where they were "greeted" by Michelle Jones.

"I can't believe you guys are at this lame party," she sighed. It genuinely looked like she was disappointed at them for showing up.

"But... You're here too," Ned responded, confused.

"Am I?" she asked, squinting at them for a brief second, before walking off, leaving the two boys with puzzled looks on their faces.

That's when Liz appeared, and Peter's eyes lit up while his heart did a backflip. For a few seconds he went on autopilot mode, unable to think strait for himself. Liz greeted them, clearly surprised they had made it, but also genuinely happy they had. She told them to help themselves to food and drinks before running off to do damage control. Some guy had smashed a lamp while trying to juggle with some pineapples.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Ned asked Peter. "She's here, spider it up!" he urged.

Peter finally broke out of his stupor and managed to start breathing again.

"No. No, no, no. I can't... I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I'm just gonna be myself." Peter was imagining a million scenarios where Ned's plan would go down in flames. He couldn't bring himself to using Spider-Man for anything other than helping people.

Ned sighed. "Peter, no one wants that," he admitted.

"Dude." His feelings were hurt. He started to walk off and look for Liz, hoping he would manage to gather the strength to talk to her. That's when Flash Thompson, who was deejaying for the night, got everybody's attention.

"Penis Parker! So where's your pal Spider-Man? Let me guess: In Canada with your imaginary girlfriend?" Everybody laughed while Flash used his dashboard to turn his DJ setup into a comedy club.

"Okay, that's it. I can't let this happen forever," Peter told Ned before heading outside. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"Sweet! I'll wait for you over there." Ned pointed at the bay window at the far end of the house.

Peter jumped onto the roof of the guest house where nobody could see him, and took off his clothes, revealing his Spider-Suit beneath them. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that Liz's parents owned a guest house. He started talking to himself, trying to find what he should say when he would appear at the party as Spîder-Man, while at the same time thinking about how stupid this plan was. Spider-Man wouldn't just show up at a party in the suburbs. Why would he? What if somebody recognized his voice? Why should he need to rely on Spider-Man to be able to impress Liz? Why don't people want him to be himself..?

As all these questions and more buzzed around his head, he spotted a bright blue light in the distance. An explosion? He thought, before immediately putting on his mask and swinging his way through the street as fast as he could towards the source of the blue light.

Sorry Ned, this might be important.

As he got close to where he thought the explosion had happened, Peter tried to listen for voices in the woods. Luckily, another explosion happened, under a bridge nearby.

Okay, this is definitely important.

Peter reached the bridge and stuck to a pillar, hiding in the darkness to figure out what was happening. There appeared to be three men under the bridge; one of them was rummaging through the back of a van filled with what seemed to be more high tech weapons, like the ones from the ATM attack. The two others were discussing casually. By what Peter made out of the conversation, this was some sort of arms deal. The man on the left looked nervous, and Peter guessed he was the buyer.

Suddenly, Peter's phone started yodeling.

Note to self, put phone on silent mode while investigating creepy arms dealers in the middle of the night.

One of the men pulled out a gun, and aimed at the buyer, whose hands went strait in the air.

Oh no, now I've done it.

Peter jumped down from his pillar.

"Hey, if you're gonna shoot anybody, shoot me!"

The armed man turned to face him, unimpressed by his bravery. "Aight."

Too slow!

Peter shot a web and pulled the gun out of the man's hand and started dashing towards them to take them out. But before he knew what had happened, he got smashed in the face by what felt like a truck at full speed. The blow sent him flying backwards several yards, and by the time he shook it off, the van was driving off in one direction, while the buyer drove off in a car in the opposite direction.

Follow the weapons.

Peter used a web to latch onto the doors of the van, which started dragging him through the streets. A blast from inside the vehicle sent one of doors flying. Another one barely missed Peter, creating a hole in the pavement.

This is SO much less fun than water skiing! Peter thought, before smashing into a brick mailbox and detaching from the van.

"Great. Guess I'm gonna have to take a shortcut."

He started sprinting through the suburbs, crashing through backyards and frightening the entire neighborhood.

He finally caught up with the van at an intersection a few blocks further, and as he jumped onto it, he was snatched mid-air by something huge.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, looking up. Two bright green demon eyes stared back at him, and for the second time that week, Spider-Man felt fear creep down his spine. The creature soared upwards, and in mere seconds, the entire city was a mile beneath them. Peter could sense the air getting thin, but before he could react, the built in parachute in his suit opened, ripping Peter from the creature's grasp.

And he fell. Entangled in the parachute, he plumetted towards the ground, spiralling out of control before hitting water, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Oh my god, thank you East River!

The parachute surrounded him completely, and Peter was blind. As he struggled with the chute, he had no idea which way was up or down. He held his breath, but he was sure he was about to drown.

Am I?

His heard was spinning from the lack of oxygen when he felt something pick him up and lift him out of the water. Looking behind him, he recognized Iron Man, and passed out.

Peter silently climbed through his bedroom window and closed it behind him, careful not to wake up May. They had told her Ned's dad would bring them home from the party, and Peter assumed she would be asleep by now.

He hid his suit and the humming purple piece of alien tech he had found, then sat on his bed with a sigh.

How am I supposed to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man when the neighborhood has THIS in it?

Tony's words were stuck in his head. "It's never too early to start thinking about college." How could he even consider going to college, with all that had been going on? People were counting on Spider-Man! On him! How did everything become so complicated?

Peter reached under his mattress for his journal once again. He flipped it open with another sigh.

November 6th, 2015

Okay, things are still weird. When I woke up this morning, I smashed my alarm clock into the wall. Like, SMASHED. To pieces. And some of the pieces suck to my hand! Oh, and I made a hole in the wall. Also, my glasses aren't working. I mean, my eyes are working. I mean, somehow, I don't need my glasses anymore.

I don't know what's going on, but May said I should stay at home for the day, just in case I still feel sick, and I think it's for the best. I need to figure out what's going on. Oh, and those spider dreams happened again last night. And I don't think they were just dreams... So while May and Ben are at work, I'm going to do some experimenting.

Peter closed his journal, and searched his desk for a new one. "Might as well do things right while I'm at it," he said out loud as he wrote Trial one: Strength on the first page.

Experiment one: push-ups. Expected result: limit of 20-25 repetitions.

Peter then got on the floor and started doing push-ups. He immediately noticed something was different. This is too easy! he thought, surprised. When he reached a hundred, he still didn't feel even remotely tired. He put a hand behind his back, and did another hundred.

"Woah. This is nuts!" he exclaimed, still going strong.

After he reached three hundred without breaking a sweat, he decided to stop. He was going to need to step up his game if he wanted to test his new limits.

Obtained result: 300 repetitions without effort. Limit unknown. He wrote down in his new scientific journal. Hypothesis: Spider bite confered enhanced strength. Further testing required.

"Okay, sorry May, but I gonna need to leave the house for a while..." he said to the empty appartment. He prepared a couple of sandwiches, put them and the journal into his backpack, grabbed his coat, and headed outside.

To test his agility, he jumped down the stairs one flight at a time, landing gracefully between each one. Still confused, but definitely excited, he opened the door to the building and strepped out onto the street. And his head exploded.

The light, the sounds, the smells, the breeze, everything was so intense that he could barely stand it. He took a step back in confusion, closed his eyes, and put his hands over his ears.

It was like all of his senses had been dialed up to a thousand, except that his brain wasn't ready for all that information at once. His head started to spin, and he took another step back. A taxi honked half a block away.

"Ahhhhh!" he yelled, clutching his ears as if they were going to explode. He managed to open his eyes, squinting into the winter morning sunlight. The white patches of snow reflecting the sun burned his eyes.

This is too much! he thought as he rushed back in and slammed the door.

Back in the appartment, he opened his scientific journal and wrote:

Spider bite has also confered hightened senses. Consequences unclear. Further testing required.

"Okay, that was horrible," he said to himself. "But what's a minor setback to a scientist?" He went into his room and fetched his headphones and sunglasses, and put them on.

"Alright, let's try again," he said as he approached his window. He opened it, and braced himself for another blow to his senses... but this time it was a lot better. The accessories helped: he could keep his eyes open without tearing up, and the noise cancelling from his headphones prevented his head from splitting in two.

"Nice! Baby steps," he smiled. He stayed for a few minutes with his head outside the window, breathing deeply, trying to dial down his senses to a minimum, before finally taking off the headphones, and then the sunglasses.

Alright, round two.

He closed the window, put the headphones and sunglasses in his backpack just in case, and headed back outside. His new sensitivity took some getting used to, but by the time he reached the park a few blocks away, he felt pretty confident his brain wouldn't melt if a car honked too close to him.

The park was empty, being a school day, which was convenient for Peter. He started looking for something heavy to pick up, and settled for a small boulder, which he guessed was at least a hundred pounds.

Experience two: weight lifting. Expected result: unknown.

Peter squatted to get a good grip on the boulder and... lifted it strait over his head. He was so startled that he let go of it, sending the rock flying several yards behind him, where it smashed into a small oak.

"Oh shi-" Peter exclaimed as the tree collapsed with a large thud. But that gave him an idea.

He walked up to the oak, looking around him to make sure nobody was watching. Judging by its size, it had to weigh at least several tonnes.

There's no way this works...

Peter grabbed the trunk, and heaved it up. For the first time, the effort strained him, but he was still able to lift it with relative ease.

OH MY GOD I HAVE SUPER POWERS.

As the realisation hit him, he let go of the trunk, which thudded into the ground for a second time. His eyes were wide, and his heart was racing. Not because of the physical prowess he had just achieved, but because he was having a panic attack.

"What the hell, this can't be real! There's no way!" He backed away from the tree as if it were dangerous. "I've got super powers!" he said out loud this time, and as he did, his legs gave way beneath him, and he fell flat on his butt. He reached for his journal, but noticed that some tree bark was stuck to his hands. He tried shaking it off, but it wouldn't budge.

"Why is this so sticky?"

He managed to get rid of the bark by rubbing his hands together, expecting his fingers to be covered in sap or something, but there was nothing there.

"Wait, am I sticky?" he glanced at a nearby tree - one that was still standing this time – and had an idea for his next experiment. But first, he picked up his journal and wrote:

Obtained result: at least 4 tonnes. No further signs of hallucinations.

He then walked to the plane tree, and started climbing. He didn't use any grips or hold branches, he just stuck his hand against the trunk and pulled himself up, relying solely on his newly discovered stickiness. When he got to about fifteen feet above the ground, he backflipped off his branch, and landed neatly on his feet next to his journal.

This is insane.

He spent the next two hours running around the park to test his speed and stamina, keeping track of all of his results in his journal. By the time he was done, he was drenched in sweat and very, very hungry, even after eating the sandwiches he had made, so he decided to head back home.

On his way, he decided to conduct an experiment on his newly hightened senses as well. While walking, he wrote:

Trial 3: Hearing. Experiment one: maximum distance.

He didn't bother writing the expected result, because he had no idea what he was capable of anymore. He looked down the street when he exited the park, and noticed a hot-dog stand roughly a hundred yards away. He focused for a second, and was easily able to hear the man ordering two hot-dogs with sourcrout and mustard, which made his stomach rumble. He decided to do one last test before going home, and closed his eyes. This time he didn't focus on anything particular, but rather tried to absorb everything he could around him. At first, it was utter cacophony, but after a moment, Peter managed to slowly block out the sounds of car horns, garbage trucks, jackhammers, helicopters, and only be left with the voices of people walking down the streets around him. He caught pieces of conversation here and there, but it was still pretty chaotic, like when a teacher leaves the classroom for a few minutes to fetch some photocopies.

"NO!"a woman's voice cried.

Peter's eyes snapped open. He had heard fear in that voice, he was sure of it. Without thinking twice, he started sprinting in the direction the cry had come from. He ran accross the street, turned left, narrowly dodged a taxi door opening in front of him, all the while focusing on the distressed voice that was getting closer.

"Please, no!"

Peter's heart was pounding, sharing the terror he felt in the woman's voice. He reached a parking lot and stopped, unsure of where to go next. He closed his eyes once more, focusing as hard as he could to find the voice amidst the New York chaos around him. He heard a whimper, and dashed into an alley on his right. There she was. A tall, dark haired man was holding both her wrists above her head against the wall with one hand, and toying with a knife under her chin with the other. Peter's eyes went wide, and before he knew what he was doing, he slammed into the aggressor, sending him flying. The man smashed against a dumpster, and slumped to the ground, knocked out cold.

Peter faced the woman, who met his gaze for a brief second. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, as tears streamed down her face. Her lipstick was smeared accross her cheek, and Peter noticed her shirt had been ripped open. Before he could ask her if she was alright, she snatched up her handbag and ran away, clutching it against her chest.

Peter turned around and looked at the unconscious thug, wondering what to do.

911.

By the time the police showed up, the man had been tied up and gagged, a note on his chest read "I am a criminal, please put me in jail."and Peter was back in his room, nervously tapping his pen on the empty page of his diary.