So, this is a long time coming. Good news is I've developed a backlog of issues, so you can expect consistent releases in the near future. In fact, because this issue is so short, and to celebrate the new movie, I'll release #5 on the 6th! Anyway, enjoy this issue, and please drop a review if you feel inspired to!

Web of Spider-Man
#4: Showboat Part 1
"Power"

…

"Please," Peter mumbled, his hands in the air, the room seeming to spin around him, "Don't shoot me."

The police officer—one officer Jean DeWolff—smirked, amused. "Relax. I'm not gonna—"

Peter promptly collapsed, interrupting her. That instantly killed her mood. Kneeling down to check his pulse, the cop looked him over. Peter blinked dazedly, his eyes glossy and his skin ghostly pale. Thankfully, his heart beat at a steady rate.

"Hey. Hey, kid, talk to me," she urged.

However, Peter couldn't bring himself to respond. As a fever rapidly came on, his eyes rolled back in his head and everything faded to black.

…

"The good news is Peter appears to be perfectly fine. The bad news is we have no idea what happened to him," explained the doctor to Peter's aunt and uncle outside of his hospital room. "While we found some spider venom and alcohol in his bloodstream, it wasn't a particularly potent amount of either. Our best guess is he had an extreme anxiety attack, in which case it may have just been a temporary result of that admittedly high stress situation."

The boy in question had woken up half an hour ago after a nearly twelve-hour stint unconscious in the ER, and was being cleared by a nurse in his room. As the nurse checked his blood pressure, Peter slipped his glasses into his pocket. Oddly enough, when he'd awoken, he'd found his vision had improved drastically. He'd asked the nurse to prepare an eye exam, which he passed with flying colors. He figured it was likely just temporary, although he couldn't even hypothesize as to why his vision had improved at all.

Deciding not to mention this to his aunt or uncle just yet, he looked over in their direction, only to meet his aunt May's grave gaze. Peter quickly looked away, ashamed with the whole situation. His head buzzed uncontrollably as if he had an alarm clock ringing inside his brain. Product of a hangover, maybe? But he hadn't had much to drink at all.

"Thank you," May replied to the doctor, sending him on his way. She turned to Ben, and crossed her arms. "There have to be consequences for his actions. God, I…I warned you, Ben."

"I know. I'm sorry," Ben gently clasped her arms in assurance. "I trusted Pete, but now…" He sighed. "To be fair, we weren't up to much better when we were his age."

"We never ended up in the ER," May argued.

"You never ended up in the ER," Ben only half-joked.

"For God's sake." May shook her head, then entered the hospital room as the nurse exited it. She immediately headed for Peter, who slid off the bed to greet her. "Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Peter admitted.

"Where are your glasses, champ?" Ben wondered, looking around the room for them.

"Uh, right here," Peter stammered, producing them from his pants pocket. He slipped them on, and tried not to make a big deal out of the fact that wearing them gave him a massive headache.

Although he couldn't quite make it out, Peter could tell his aunt was giving him her best scolding stare as she said, "You're in hot water, mister."

The teen rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless. "Figured as much."

"You're grounded for two weeks. No videogames, no—no playdates with Harry, and certainly no more parties," May continued.

"I'm not five. I don't go on 'playdates' anymore," Peter pointed out. Upon his aunt's look, he apologized, "Sorry…yeah, I hear you. But I'm telling you I didn't have more than like two sips of beer."

Ben chuckled, leading the way out of the room, "Tastes like urine, right?"

"Understatement of the century," Peter muttered, massaging his forehead.

…

During the car ride home, Peter slipped his glasses onto the bridge of his nose so he could check his phone, discovering a number of missed calls and messages from Harry, who wanted to make sure he was okay. He sent him a selfie, visual proof of his health, with a small message, but left out the part about the hospital. However, oddly enough, Peter couldn't lift his finger off the screen after sending the text. Once, twice, on his third try he managed to raise his finger with a pop right as he received Harry's response.

Peter brushed the experience away, assuming he'd gotten something sticky on his hand in the hospital. Only his finger didn't feel sticky…

Anyway, Harry explained he and Jessica had gotten out alright and spent the night at her house. Peter resisted the urge to ask about that, instead going with:

U heard from Al?

Harry's immediate response: No. He's gotta be screwed tho.

Peter closed his phone, frowning. As frustrated as he was about his situation, Al had to have been worse off. After all, he was the one who'd thrown the party.

Poor guy…

…

"What were you thinking?!" Spencer Smythe stood up from bed with the intention of getting into his son's face, only to nearly stumble to the ground, overcome with motion sickness.

"Dad, take it easy," Al hurried over to his side, helping him back in bed. His mother, Betsy, a lanky graying brunette of fifty propped him up with pillows. "I'm sorry, okay? I just…I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't. That's the problem," Spencer muttered, embarrassed at his own weakness.

"Relax, honey. I'll handle this," Betsy assured him. Spencer shrugged, leaving her to continue, "Alistair, alcohol—"

"Is bad for you, I know," Al interrupted.

"Let me finish," Betsy said, causing him to shrink back even further into himself, "Alcohol can be used safely and responsibly, but not until you're of age. There's a reason the legal drinking age is 21. By that point, your brain's done most of its developing. The long term consequences are less severe."

Al nodded, choosing not to respond initially. He agreed with them. He'd known the risks when he'd drank last night. But his parents didn't really understand. His parents had never been the partying types. They'd never been particularly social. His father had been raised to study and do nothing but, while his mother had been motivated from a young age to escape poverty. They didn't understand his desire to, just once, be seen.

Frankly, he doubted they ever would.

"I'm sorry," Al moped.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Just…be careful next time. Think things through," Betsy urged.

"Yes, ma'am."

…

Shortly after returning home from the hospital, Peter wandered glasses-less into the kitchen for lunch. His aunt and uncle had gone out on a grocery run, leaving him to fend for himself. His simple solution? A peanut butter-and-honey sandwich, carrots, and a glass of apple juice. Was it childish? Maybe, but man, did it hit the spot.

After spreading the last of the peanut butter, Peter tried to set down the knife. Emphasis on tried. It stuck to his fingers. He waved his hand around, trying to drop the utensil, but couldn't. He tried to pry it free with his other hand, but that one in turn got stuck.

"Oh, c'mon," Peter grumbled. He looked like a samurai with a mini katana. The sight would have been hilarious, if it wasn't so frustrating.

Annoyed, Peter walked over to the sink and elbowed on the hot water. He ran his hands under the stream, although it didn't do anything to help. And there was that buzzing in his head again. Peter sighed and continued to try to pry his hands free under the water, only to have to jump back upon its sudden rise in temperature. Somehow, in his attempt to avoid the scalding hot water, he'd freed the knife from his hands, sending it clattering to the ground.

After clasping his hands together and discovering they felt normal, he turned off the faucet, but in turn discovered he's stuck his hand against it. He ripped it free…in a sense. The handle got torn off, too, sending out a small geyser of water that sprayed him from the waste up.

"Son of a—" Peter reached for a dish towel and used it to clog the leak.

Then, with a deep breath, he managed to drop the metal handle on the kitchen counter. He eyed the knife on the floor cautiously, then nudged it with his naked toes. It stuck. He kicked his foot up, launching the knife right into the ceiling. Someone on the floor above yelped.

"Sorry! Sorry," Peter yelled back.

He looked down at his hands, realization dawning on him, then glanced back up at the knife. He crouched down, and, after taking a deep breath, leapt up, managing to snag the utensil from the ceiling. The only issue? He hit his head on the way up, having jumped far higher than he expected.

"Are you trying to tear the building apart?!" screamed the tenant on the upper floor.

"Sorry!" Peter shouted again, massaging the bump on the back of his head.

His gaze fell back to his hands, then, after a few moments, to the wall. He placed one hand on it, then another. Slowly but surely, he began to climb up the wall all the way to the ceiling. Before too long, he'd positioned himself upside down on all fours, gravity trying and failing to drag him to the floor.

Utterly amazed, all Peter could manage was, "Whoa."

I hope you Ultimate Spider-Man (comic) fans enjoyed that homage.

Thanks to the many reviewers who took time to leave your thoughts. It means the world to me!

...

Heart of the Demons: Glad the letter had the desired effect! It was my cheap way of developing Peter, while also dropping exposition in a hopefully unique, emotionally resonant way, haha.

midjet156: Again, sorry to hear about your experiences. The journey you mentioned-growing past that cycle of hatred and finding loved ones-is one Peter will certainly go on throughout this series. In fact, it's where the title got its name. 'Web of Spider-Man' is not only unique in terms of titles found on this site, it also refers to the web of people, good and bad, that Peter/Spider-Man develops. This story is about personal relationships and growth just as much as it's about spectacular adventures, if not even moreso. It's immensely personal to me, and the sort of grounded, fun, dramatic narrative that stays true to the source material, while also being a powerful story in its own right .

PraetorFable: Thanks for reviewing! I'm so glad you're enjoying the title!

Sonny Daye: Yeah, this note definitely got cornier than the others. That was intentional. As for Smythe, he looks older than he is. He's got youthful eyes, but otherwise looks like a weak, old man, which is really sad considering he's in his early-40s. Honestly, Peter got bit in Al's house for two reasons. 1) it's different, and 2) it provides a background that's natural for the story, while also freeing Peter from the restraints of being ID'd by the owners of a lab a la Ultimate Spider-Man.

Superspartan117: Thanks for the review!

Centrinity86: Definitely got long term plans for this story. It should-if everything goes according to plan-at least last until he graduates from high school.

Kineil D. Wicks: I'll make sure to tow the line between excessive "R-Rated" dialogue/action and a more traditional PG-13 handling of the story, but you can expect it to push the boundaries a bit in that regard. I'm really glad you like Alistair. He's really come alive on the page, and has quickly become one of my favorite characters to write. Moreover, he'll play a hugely important role in this story.

cjoscarmeloreo: Yeah, it bothers me, too, when Peter never develops as a character. That habit's rampant throughout this site. Sure, Peter's a nice guy deep down, but he's prone to dickishness, particularly at the outset of his origin. Glad you're on board with that.

boysa boysa: So glad you checked this out! Thanks for being a consistent reviewer!