Spider-Man: Year One- A Spider-Man Fanfiction
Summary: Lonely sophomore Peter Parker was the most gifted student at Midtown High, until one day when a bite from a genetically modified spider turned him into something else. Now, he's just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Follow his journey. Rated Teen.
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man
Chapter Fifteen
The parking garage was dark. After all, none of the cars in the garage were slated to move anytime other than on his employer's orders. If one listened close enough, they could hear the faint sound of birds chirping in the afternoon sun and sirens likely after one of the lower forms of criminal in the city.
Normally, he wouldn't even come near a place like this during the day. He had a reputation after all. The city's highest paid lawyer shouldn't be seen making back ally deals with known hit men after all.
But, he doubted the rest of the city knew about the amount of money he made. To them, he was just another lawyer in the employ of Wilson Fisk. They didn't know what his boss did, nor did they know about his own involvement.
He ran a hand through his coal black hair and let out a slight breath. It was his own policy to arrive fifteen minutes before any of his "extra" meetings were to begin. In his line of work, he needed to project strength and confidence.
He often wondered what it would be like to be the public number two to Fisk, instead of the private one. But he had his role to play and he didn't envy the work Smythe was forced to complete or the expectations their boss had for the day to day work of his many enterprises.
However, for this particular assignment, both the public and private worlds would be melding more than even his boss would have liked. This Spider-Man was Smythe's pet project. Personally, he felt much the same as his boss did. They had bigger threats. But, his boss made the call. They would deal with the Spider-Man. For that reason, Smythe was sitting in the backseat of his own personal car, watching the exchange go down.
The person he was waiting for was a consummate professional and, for that, he was grateful. He didn't much like his much out in the open if he could help it. His boss knew this, of course, and made sure that his contacts wouldn't turn around and rat them out to the police or the highest bidder.
A nondescript, black, car pulled up alongside him and a figure stepped out of the driver's seat. For a man of his reputation, he was shorter than expected. Not short in the proper sense, but not as tall as his reputation made him seem. He was middle aged, with receding brown hair and numerous wrinkles surrounding his blue eyes. But there was something behind those eyes, a calculating look that seemed to take in every little detail around him.
He wore a leather jacket, black, over a simple white shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Everything down to his combat boots screamed "normal". Maybe that was why he was considered the best professional in his line of work.
He took one final glance around the garage before speaking in a baritone tinted slightly with a German accent. "You are Mr. Wesley, yes?"
"I would have expected a man of your reputation to have a driver," Wesley responded. "Does the drive help you think?"
"Never trust anyone enough to be your driver. You'll live longer."
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough, Mr. Schultz. Now then, down to business."
"Five-hundred thousand. Up front. Five-hundred more when the job is completed."
"Don't you want to know the specifics first?"
Schultz moved around to the trunk of his care and opened it. "What do the specifics matter? If you have the money, I'll complete the job in any way you deem necessary."
"This one may be out of your wheelhouse."
"Nothing is out of my wheelhouse," Schultz responded, reaching into the trunk and pulling out a briefcase. "Do we have a deal?"
Wesley stepped forward, handing over an envelope with the desired amount inside.
Once in his possession, Schultz turned back around to continue the conversation. "What is the job?"
"To destroy the Oscorp building and kill Spider-Man."
"At the same time?"
"Yes."
"Two weeks and it'll be done. Is that all?"
Wesley straightened his tie. "Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I refused to play by your rules?"
Schultz opened his jacket to show a gun nestled in a holster on his hip. "I would have shot you."
He turned again and opened the case he pulled from the trunk, extracting a pair of gloves giving off a quiet humming noise. "But this Spider-Man, I already have a feeling he'll need a different approach."
Just as quickly as he came, Schultz was gone with only the lingering sound of his car driving off in the distance.
Seeing as his job was done, Wesley returned to his own car and instructed the driver to head back to the office. As the car took off, he turned to Smythe who was holding a glass of scotch with an unrestrained smile gracing his lips. "What did you think of our hire?"
"I think our employer is trusting you far too much right now. Spider-Man is barely a threat to us. Not like the Devil or the Punisher."
"But unlike those two, we can stop this problem before it becomes something bigger. Call it a hunch, Wesley, but I have a feeling that if left unchecked Spider-Man will turn out to be the biggest threat of them all."
"Then you better hope Mr. Schultz can take him out as promised."
…
The base of operation he chose in New York was a small motel in one of the more rundown areas of Queens. It was secluded and quiet, just the kind of atmosphere he wanted so he could concentrate on his work. Outside of a minor criminal problem in the area, not that it was a concern to him, the police were hardly ever present and he could blend safely in with he street trash. To these people, he was just another vagrant. He liked it that way.
As a child growing up in East Germany, Herman Schultz was one of the more gifted minds in his community. By the age of ten, he had a working knowledge of every electronic his family and his school possessed. By twelve, this extended to the entire community he lived in. Though, to be fair, it didn't amount to a significant amount of tech. Still, though, he was destined for far greater things than his simple, provisional farming life behind the Iron Curtain.
By the time he turned eighteen, his parents decided to smuggle him out of the country and into the West, hoping for more prospects for their gifted son. They eventually made it to America, New York in particular, where he enrolled at Hudson University to study engineering.
But the stress of the move and their new lives took a toll on his parents and they both died of illness two years into his studies. With no way of supporting himself, even with his academic scholarship, Herman dropped out and turned to the growing criminal enterprises in the city for financial gain.
His mind being his sharpest asset, he was able to grasp marksmanship with relative ease and planning even easier. He was able to rise quickly through the ranks of the gangs he ran with, becoming a strategist for a number of the smaller New York gangs that littered the city in the 1980s. But he wanted more. He was meant for more.
Striking out on his own, he was able to find more lucrative work as a hit man for hire, selling his gun to the highest bidder. In fact, it was this line of work that led him to begin creating his own weaponry. More people would be inclined to buy his services if he had something unique to offer.
The shock gauntlets were easy enough to manufacture and use. A simple electrical current running through the gloves to the portion covering his knuckles gave him a melee attack best summed up as brass knuckles meets a taser. An early design flaw on the gloves allowed for blasts of concussive air to be shot out at high, vibrating speeds. Capitalizing on this, he installed a simple trigger and knob to regulate the amount of force he sent out when he used this weapon. He now had a long range attack.
A rival hit man gave him his street name when, during a scuffle, he fell prone to the electric nature of Schultz's punch and could only repeat the phrase "he shocked me".
As he grew older, and slower unfortunately, he began to read up on various styles of combat to make up for his aging. Never being a hardly physical specimen, he focused on the styles of combat made to combat bigger people. Feng Shou became a personal favorite.
And he was a voracious reader. He was always a clever kid, maybe not quite a genius, but always a bit smarter than the average person. And he liked to read. When it became apparent that his physical attributes were not quite up to scratch, he decide to improve his mental abilities in their place.
He read Sun Tzu, Thucydides, Alinsky, Greene, and even Caro. He could play chess on a level up to par with some of the grand masters. If he entered West Point today, he would be at the top of their strategic classes.
He learned stealth, tactics, and intimidation all for the same purpose. He was ready for any job they could give him. And then something strange happened.
First there was Stark, the Iron Man, and that Hulk who rampaged through Harlem. And the good Captain as well. He had never faced any of these threats, but he was a bit curious. With nothing more than his weapons and his wits, could he take on one of these superheroes?
When the Kingpin called on for a job, he thought he would finally have a chance to do so. But he thought it would be against Daredevil. Everyone with any knowledge of the criminal underworld in New York knew about the Devil's obsession with taking down the Kingpin. So, he was honestly shocked when the request was to take on Spider-Man. But, like he told that lawyer Wesley, he would succeed no matter the job.
The first step to this plan was simple. Watch and analyze the Spider-Man. All he had to do was watch a few videos on Youtube and, maybe, follow a bank heist or two. A few days, he would have a clear understanding of how the hero worked and how best to defeat him.
Then he would lure him to Oscorp and complete both parts of his contract at once.
From what he understood, this Spider-Man was quick, strong, agile, and damn good at his job. But so was the Shocker. And the Shocker hasn't failed yet.
…
Liz looked up at Peter with a confused, and slightly alarmed, glance. "Yeah, Petey. What's up?"
Peter was suddenly nervous. Very nervous. He was freaking out, to be honest. He felt inadequate standing there in his faded Ramones shirt and ripped jeans. He wished he had spent more time in the shower this morning. Took better care of his hair other than flipping it to the side. Took the time to make sure his glasses were as clean as possible, even though the glass was entirely unneeded thanks to his powers.
Liz was still staring at him and Peter shivered involuntarily under her gaze. Friday he was unsure of himself, unsure of his actions and his words. Unsure of her motives and her desires. Today, in front of the entire school who were by now now staring at him, his fears were only amplified.
Nothing about being Spider-Man prepared him for this kind of situation. When he was in costume, he could hide behind his mask. It gave him a confidence that he didn't have as Peter Parker. He could trade barbs and punch bad guys with the best of them. New York was his city in a way that few others could understand. And he had sworn to protect it, as Uncle Ben would have wanted him to do.
But he wasn't Spider-Man at the moment. There was a clear separation, even in his own mind, between the hero Spider-Man and the high school nerd Peter Parker. And right now, that nerd might as well have been attempting the impossible.
A few months ago, when the tutoring sessions began, Peter would never have expected to even become Liz's friend. She was the heir apparent to Felicia Hardy, who only tolerated Peter to appease Eddie. The rest of Liz's friends were hardly that magnanimous in their dealings with Peter.
But, as he had been telling himself for the past few weeks, he had grown very close to Liz. She had opened up to him about her wants and her dreams for the future. She had shown him a side of her he doubted even her best friends knew. And before he knew, he had fallen for her. Fallen for her in a way much different than the crush he harbored when she wouldn't even look his way. That was an idealization. An ideal Liz he had made up in his mind as he spent his time daydreaming about even talking to her. This was different. She wasn't the perfect high school cheerleader, popular and pretty, that he watched from afar like Harry and the rest of the geeks and nerds. She had her faults. The Liz he came to know was a bit feckless and too focused on appearances. She was also ashamed of her likes, trying her hardest to fit the mold as best she could. She was flighty and quick to temper and judge.
But she was kind. She was willing to try and learn, even if she needed to get out of her own way first. And she was pretty. She was beautiful really. But that beauty, that true beauty Peter noticed, was only because if the radiant person Liz was. Her personality made her beautiful, not her looks.
And Peter was the first to admit he wasn't perfect. He was also quick to judge and condescend to anyone he felt beneath him, which was most people. He was bitter at times and sarcastic to a fault. And he felt the world owed him something because smarter than average. Well, he was beyond smarter than average, but that was hardly the point. It often felt as if the world broke and only Peter understood and had the abilities needed to fix the problem. That arrogance was going to get him hurt one day.
So, here they were, two imperfect people. And Peter was terrified.
"Petey, do you want to sit down?" Liz asked, eyebrows raised as she motioned to the seat across from her.
Peter didn't honestly know how long he had been standing there. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few minutes. But he blushed rather darkly and nodded all the same. "Sorry, I think I spaced out there for a minute."
"It's okay. It isn't the first time that happened," Liz chuckled.
Peter chuckled as well, sitting down. He wasn't sure if it was in his head or not, but it seemed as if the entire cafeteria had gone silent around them. The only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own heart against his chest. It was much faster than normal, but still oddly rhythmic. Peter felt it mirrored his own anxiety perfectly. He shouldn't be this nervous, it was just Liz.
"You said we needed to talk Petey?"
"Huh... oh, yeah," Peter replied, running hand through his hair. He straightened his glasses on impulse and continued. "About Friday..."
"Look, it's fine Petey. I understand," Liz cut him off. "You don't owe me an explanation."
"What?"
"I'm sure you would prefer to be with a smarter girl than me. One that didn't just break up with her boyfriend and didn't come with all this baggage."
Peter was floored. She thought he came over to turn her down? What other girl did she think he was even interested in?
Peter watched her eyes for a minute as they flickered over to the drama kids. Peter followed her gaze until they both landed on a redhead, sitting at the end of the table, bobbing her head to whatever was blaring out of her headphones. Mary Jane.
"Liz," Peter began, pulling her attention back. "I'm not interested in Mary Jane like that. She's just a friend."
The idea that Liz thought Peter had come over her to tell her he was interested in some else was insane. The fact that she thought he wouldn't want to be with her was insane. But the fact that she was just as scared as he was. And, in spite of himself, he laughed.
"Well," Liz huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "Glad to know you find this so funny Petey."
Peter smiled. "No, it's just... I was terrified coming over here. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in that sense. I figured you would have reconsidered. Choosing me means losing your popularity and, possibly, your friends."
Liz rolled her eyes. "If they want to throw away our friendship because I want to date you then what kind of friends were they to begin with?"
"And what if everyone starts talking? You just weathered one gossip storm, you sure you want another?"
"What do I care what some kids with no lives of their own say about me? Screw them."
"You sure?"
"Petey, I've lived for too long caring about what others think about me. The other day I was talking to my brother and he wad telling me a story about a girl he missed out on because he wasn't willing to be himself until it was too late. I don't want to miss out on this chance."
Again, Peter was surprised. He never would have expected Liz to bare her soul to readily to him, and in public no less. She had more courage than almost anyone he knew and he owed her the same as well. "To tell you the truth, I'm scared Liz. Scared than I'm going to screw this up. This kind of thing is really new to me and the last thing I would want is to hurt you in any way."
"Petey, this is new for me as well. Flash and I, we were kind of forced together by necessity. It was expected of us. I doubt either of us felt anything real there. I know I didn't. But with you, it feels real. It feels like this could be something serious. I sound pretty mushy, don't I?"
"No, I get it. This is real for me as well, Liz. Whatever is here, I want to see where it goes. I want to try this. For real. I want you to be my girlfriend."
"Then, what choice to do I have but to accept you proposal Mr. Parker?" Liz replied with a smirk. She glanced around, making sure that all eyes were still on them and kissed him squarely on the mouth.
Ignoring the shocked gasps that came from around them, a nearly paralyzed Peter was finally able to respond to the kiss, just beginning to get a feel for rhythm before Liz pulled away with a sly grin on her face.
"There," she said with a smile. "Let them talk. Coming?"
She held out her hand for Peter and the two walked away from the cafeteria, leaving a surprised, to say the least, student body behind them.
End of Chapter Fifteen
A/N: Hope everyone liked this one. Let me know.