The next morning, Peter went to Goodwill. It was the last day before school started, and people were bustling about to collect their school supplies. He started looking for skin-tight clothes that he could wear under his normal clothes, but there weren't any. He settled on a pair of red, knee-high socks, black denim jeans, a red long-sleeved t-shirt, black gloves, and a black vest. The vest was the most expensive part of the outfit, nearly 120 dollars altogether. He had to have it. The vest had red, dragon-like wings patterned on the back, and it was made of black snakeskin. It fit his new identity perfectly. Now he just needed a name, and a mask.

He went home with his purchases, and looked through his closet. He pulled out one of his earliest Spider-Man masks. Plain red, with black patterns around the eye-holes. No lenses to cover his eyes. He looked through his selection of lenses. There wasn't anything that really screamed "dragon". Finally, he pulled out a pair of goggles with reflective golden lenses. They looked like biker's goggles. He had no idea where they had come from. He turned them over in his hands. There was a name stenciled on the inside of the rubber strap. Richard Parker.

Peter stared. Where had he gotten these? Had they always been sitting on the top shelf in his closet? Had they really belonged to his father? Why had his father had them? Did he ride motorcycles? Deciding he needed answers, he left the rest of his costume in the closet, and headed downstairs with the goggles.

"Aunt May?" he called.

"In the kitchen, Peter." she called back. Walking into the kitchen, he showed the goggles to his aunt.

"Are these my dad's?" he asked quietly. She frowned at them.

"I'm not sure. He had so many goggles, dear, it's hard to recall any of them." she said.

"Did he ride bikes?" he asked. She nodded thoughtfully.

"He rode them all the time. He said it felt good to feel the wind on his skin. Like he was flying." she said. Peter smiled, he understood the feeling.

"OK. Thanks, aunt May. I'm gonna go out for awhile. I'll be back for dinner." he said.

"Did you get everything you needed at the store?" she asked as he started out of the room.

"Yeah." he said. "I'm gonna check some more stores, though. In case there is anything on sale."

"OK, Take some cake with you. You didn't eat lunch." she called to him while he was on the stairs.

"I'll get some on my way out." he called back. He hurried to his room and grabbed his new costume. He put it in his backpack, along with the goggles. He hurried back downstairs. His aunt had cut him off a slice of the cake she had just finished making. He grabbed it and a napkin and headed out. He ate the cake as he walked.

As soon as he was no longer in sight of his house, Peter turned into an alleyway. Peering around to make sure he was alone, he stopped and ducked behind some trash cans. He pulled out his costume and changed into it. Then he pulled out the so-called "soul-stone". He turned it over in his hands. It seemed ordinary enough. Except it was very warm. He slipped off his glove to feel it. As soon as it came in contact with his skin, it began to melt. The ruby-red fluid was then absorbed into his skin like water into a dry sponge.

"What the heck?" he breathed.

"There are no adults around to be offended if you swear." a voice said in his head. It was sort of grumbly. Gasoline and gravel, he'd call it. It was unnerving to hear it, especially since it was in his head.

"Who are you? Where are you? How are you talking to me?" he demanded.

"I'm the Red Dragon, Caedis." the voice said. "Technically I'm inside you. I'm telepathic."

"Inside... Oh, so you're the dragon in the stone." he realized.

"Yes. I required a vessel, a body, in order to wield my power. I was told to assist you in combat, so I assumed it would be easiest to make you my vessel." Caedis said.

"OK. Makes sense, I guess. I just wished you would have asked first." Peter said.

"Would you have said no? Remember, human, you are nearly powerless without me." Caedis pointed out. "I was once worshipped as a goddess. My might was legendary. The Red Dragon, the Blood Dragon, Goddess of Blood, Goddess of Gore, Carnage Beast, Misery. I had many names, each speaking of my prowess in combat. None were my equal on the battlefield."

"Uh... That's great. I'm not really into the whole killing people thing." Peter said. "Can you not?"

"Of course. My interest lies primarily in the arts and sciences." Caedis said, smoothly. "I'll assist you in whatever endeavor you may undertake."

"Oh. You're a scientist?" Peter asked.

"And an artist." Caedis answered. "Though not a very good one. My stick figures are terrible."

Peter smiled slightly.

"I probably couldn't do much better." he said. Then he looked around.

"What kind of powers can you give me?" he asked in an undertone.

"That depends on how much energy your body can tolerate. My powers can accomplish just about anything, but there is a limit to what I can do in a human body. Too much power could kill you." Caedis said, seriously.

"Hmm. Let's start small then... How about enhancing my own strength?" Peter asked.

"Easy enough. Force equals mass times acceleration. I can increase both." Caedis said. "I can also heal you if your body can't handle the exertion."

"Cool. How strong can you make me?" Peter asked.

"Let's find out." Caedis answered.

After practicing with his new powers for a while, Peter felt confident enough to try fighting crime again. They set out to clean up the streets. JJJ had been complaining of a sudden surge of petty crimes all along Peter's usual patrol routes. He still didn't seem to realize that it was his fault for getting rid of Spider-Man. Oh, well. Peter was ready to get back into the game.

He had stopped several muggings and a would-be car thief, when he heard engines roaring in the distance. Someone didn't have a car muffler. He ran along rooftops, jumping high into the air to get from one building to another with relative ease. He now had claws coming out of his fingertips and toes. He was able to get a decent enough grip on the concrete to scale the skyscrapers that plagued this busy city.

Finally, he made it to his destination. A fancy sports-car was barreling along busy streets, sliding between other cars with barely enough room to squeeze through. It ripped the rear-view mirror off of one. He frowned. Where was this guy going in such a hurry? His question was answered a moment later. Several police cruisers came screaming down the street, barely pausing long enough for other cars to get out of the way. Sirens blaring, they slowly closed the gap between them and the sports-car. That's when the driver of the sports-car started shooting.

He fired at the cops, but the bullets pinged off to scatter into the rapidly panicking crowd of onlookers. Peter's eyes widened in horror. This guy was out of control! He was gonna kill somebody! Momentarily forgetting he didn't bring his web-shooters with him, he dove off the side of the building as the sports-car shot past below. As the ground got closer beneath him, he realized his mistake. He closed his eyes just before he reached the ground... And landed with the ease and grace of a cat on all fours.

"What?" he muttered. Then the car was right in front of him. His eyes widened. He threw his arms out in front of him. The car slammed into him. He closed his eyes again. The car skidded to a halt, tires screeching on the pavement. He opened his eyes.

"Huh. Guess I'm good here." he muttered.

"Duh." muttered Caedis. "What do you take me for?"

"Sorry." he said, smiling beneath his mask. As he did, the driver of the car got out. His eyes widened in surprise. It was the same punk who had shot uncle Ben. Who let him out of prison?

"We could just kill him." Caedis suggested. He thought about it. Then anger shot through him. Anger at this jerk, anger at Caedis for suggesting such a thing, and anger at himself for considering it. He picked up the car and used it to knock the punk off his feet. Immediately, he regretted it. Caedis laughed in his head as he gently set the car down and approached the man. Fortunately, he was still alive, and breathing. He was even still conscious, though it looked like he was having trouble getting to his feet. He stopped trying to move as Peter approached.

"Please, don't kill me!" he gasped. Peter sighed. He reached down and swatted away the gun from the man's hand. He flinched. Peter gestured to the cops, as they cautiously approached. Then he turned around and jumped on top of a nearby building, and ran. He just ran, and ran. Hoping he could run away from what he'd just done. He'd almost killed a man. Why?