Death Fury: Thank you, I enjoy writing his spider-sense. As for him accidentally killing someone, Spider-Man is very strong when he doesn't hold back and David is someone who has no qualms about harming another human being so combine his inexperience with his powers, you get a very dangerous combo. You don't see that a lot because in most fanfics, Spidey never kills, unless he's an anti-hero.

Chapter 1-4

That was hella fun but playtime's over. I was a little reckless in my experimentation; I was swinging around for about five or six blocks with barely a mask on. If someone caught a video of me swinging, I would become a celebrity and I don't want to become a celebrity yet. I have to make sure no video of me was posted.

David sprinted home. Except he didn't go through the front door, he jumped onto his roof and climbed in through his window. He went onto his computer to search for the most recent entries a boy swinging on spiderweb-like ropes. He searched for about thirty minutes only to find nothing and safely conclude that no one caught him on video.

If I'm going to be web-swinging, I have to wear a mask but wearing a mask would be a major hindrance to my web-shooting abilities, especially if I can only shoot webs from my mouth and vomiting is the only way to go.

Pretty soon after doing a couple more searches on the internet, David got bored and decided not to waste too much time spending time in his room and waiting for that Asian girl in the neighboring house to do another strip show for him, especially when he saw her car pull out of the driveway with her in it.

He turned off his computer, quickly went out into the hallway, and snuck past his parents' bedroom door. Unfortunately, his enhanced hearing picked up on the conversation they were having.

"You know what I'm going to do?" Jim's voice echoed, "I'm going to personally call the IRS and I'm going to give them a piece of my mind."

"It's my fault," Misa's soft voice said, "I didn't pay my bills on time and it came back to bite me on the behind."

"How are we five thousand dollars short on our property taxes?" Jim almost shouted, "It's egregious that we owe this much money."

"What are we going to do, dear?" Misa asked, "How can we pay this bill in time?"

"We'll find a way," he promised, "we'll find a way and we'll pay."

Bills, that's another thing parents are good for: Paying the bills. Without them paying bills, I never would have electricity in my room or hot water in the shower. I'll let them work it out with the IRS while I go downstairs to see if they made me an afternoon snack.

"Call me crazy," Jim said, "but I think I might have an idea as to how we can solve this property tax problem."

"Trust me, any idea would be good right now," Misa said, "I'm all ears."

"I was on the computer, looking for job openings, and came across this website that said that we can win over a thousand dollars."

"Sounds too good to be true," she said.

"That's because it is but it is still true, nevertheless. The only way for us to win a couple of thousand dollars is for us to go downtown and sign up for this fight club. According to the website, depending on the odds stacked against you, you can win two thousand dollars or even forty-five thousand dollars at the most."

"A fight club to pay for a payment? Are you kidding me, Jim? Are you going to go downtown to fight for money? Do you not realize how dangerous that is? With money involved, people would commit murder and you'd be putting yourself in danger. Have you forgotten that you have a family?"

"I'm not saying that I am going to go through with this, I'm just saying that we could consider this an option. It is a free and practical way to earn money."

"Don't even go there," Misa nearly yelled, rising from her bed, "I didn't marry you just to have you killed for money. Not my husband, not my Jim!"

He heads downstairs, tiptoeing around his parents' door (his parents are still talking about the property tax payment) and he heads for the fridge. No food was good enough for an appetite.

While my parents are arguing upstairs, I'm left down here without any food to eat. But it does give me some time to reflect. Now that I have superpowers and I can swing from webs shot from my mouth, how will my life be different? Will I still be the same regular David Dante that society knows me as? Will I just be wandering through life aimlessly with these superpowers? Or will I suffer some personal tragedy and become a superhero? I find the last option to be a far cry; I can't feel emotions like regular humans so a tragedy cannot happen to me. Then again, I could pursue my original mission with Felicia. Once she sees me with my superpowers, she'll come running back to me and cling to my shoulders like I'm her knight in shining armor. I like the idea of being her knight in shining armor.

There was a knock on the door.

I better answer it before Mom and Dad snap out of their angry conversation; I get more free time with them locked in their room all day.

When David opened the door, Felicia Hardy was standing there with her backpack and a textbook in her hand. David's eyes lightened up and he smiled but he dropped it instantly because a normal human wasn't supposed to smile for no reason.

My chance for redemption. If there is a god out there watching over me, he sent this beautiful angel from Heaven so I can be with her.

"You forgot your textbook at school," she showed him the textbook. David recognized it as the one he caught mid-air.

"Thank you," David said as he took the textbook back.

"Anytime," she said before turning to walk away.

David nearly jumped at the sight of Felicia leaving him. He had to stop her before she was out of range.

"Wait," David called out. He caught her attention and was running through his silver-tongued mind on what to say. "You know, I owe you for bringing back my textbook. I could buy you dinner or a drink sometime."

"That's a nice offer," Felicia said, almost purring, "But I'm afraid I'll have to decline, seeing that I'm not 21 yet."

"Then I'll settle for buying you a soda."

"No thanks."

"I'm not going to give up that easily," he said, "I'm persistent."

"And you're a liar."

David donned the practiced look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There's something wrong with you," she said, "Not just you're able to do front flips and catch flying textbooks mid-air, there's something you're hiding. I can practically feel your aura whenever I'm around you."

"I am so confused," he said. "You think I'm a liar?"

Damn it, if she figured out that I'm a psychopath, what will she do? Did she put the pieces together and see through my disguise? But then again, what can she do? Aside from Allan, Robert, and Oliver, I've committed no crime. And if the police do find the three bullies they'll use forensic evidence to prove that the three bullies killed each other. They have nothing on me which means they can't convict me and my inability to feel guilt will allow me to play the innocent victim card and they won't throw me behind bars. I'm going to get off scot-free with the three bullies but what does Felicia know?

Even if she knows I'm a psychopath, the only thing she can do is avoid me. While I don't care if one knows of my nature, I would rather someone NOT know my nature because it just makes things harder for me to get what I want, and what I want is Felicia in my arms, moaning beneath me.

"I can tell that everything you're doing is an act," she clarified, "Your smile, the way you talk, you don't even walk like a normal person. It's like you're swinging on a vine through the hallways."

Or a web.

"So, what can you conclude from this?" David asked. "That I'm a world-class actor and I have a shot to make it in Hollywood?"

"When David Dante is in public, he puts on a disguise so people won't see the real him."

I gotta give her props, she is observant but then again, if she were to report this, they won't do anything. Not only is Dr. Hamilton a psychiatrist, but he is also a part-time lawyer.

"And is that a bad thing? Don't we all wear disguises? Some more than others, some uglier than others."

"Some more than others, definitely." Felicia cocked her head and studied David with narrow eyes. A slight smirk crossed her face before she broke into a complete smile. "But, no," she said, "I don't find anything wrong with that. After all, we all have something to hide and quite honestly, I like the mysterious boys."

What….

"You're not like those quiet and mysterious boys in classes, you're mysterious in a different kind of way. Less generic."

She is complimenting me, talking about how good I am, wow; my acting is getting better.

"Well," David said in a calm and controlled manner, "The real me was rather boring and I thought I should change things up. I mean, I didn't want to be a cardboard cutout when I'm in crowded places. But at the same time, I was kinda hoping to be average and generic, nothing to write home about. "

Wait a second, if she likes the mysterious boys, could it mean that she is hiding something? I'm smarter than I seem, not all psychopaths are serial killers, and shame on the public and authors for making psychopaths and sociopaths killers. Eh, not that I really care. And there IS a difference between a psycho and a socio.

"Good to know," she said before looking at her watch, "speaking of 'nothing to write home about', I'll be heading home now."

Oh hell no, you're not getting away so easily.

David follows her and closes the door behind him. He tucks his hands in his pockets before catching up to her. Felicia narrowed her eyes at him.

"Any good reason why you're following me home?"

"I have decided to walk you home," David said with confidence behind his voice, "I mean, it is the least I could do after having returned my textbook."

"You're persistent," she said, "I will give you that. But don't touch me, I'm stronger than I look."

I'm sure you THINK that.

"I promise not to lay a finger on you," he said, "In fact, I'll walk with my hands behind my back."

"Good, keep your hands to yourself or I'll tie them."

Ooh, now that sounds hot but I would rather tie HER up.

So David walked Felicia home to her house. He didn't know where she lived but he followed followed regardless. He knew from watching teen romances that the boy in love is supposed to make small talk with his crush but figuring out what to talk about was difficult. So he just fired one bullet in the dark.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Such a weird question," she said, "I know you're only asking that question to blend in but I'll humor you: I want to follow in the footsteps of my father."

"What kind of job did he do?"

She looked at him with a mischievous smile on her face.

That face, what's she thinking?

"He used to work on the police force," she said, "He was trailing a world-renowned criminal known as The Cat."

"I'll have to meet him one day," David said, "I want to be a forensic profiler when I grow up."

She looked at him again, except with a stunned look on her face.

"Which means, you'll be using clues found at a crime scene to build a profile around people?"

"That's what forensic profilers do," he said with a smug smile.

She looked away as if she was hiding something. He studied her sudden change in behavior.

Avoiding eye contact, a stunned look on her face, hands shoved into pockets, and...

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump!

...fast heartbeat. Yep, she is hiding something. Plot twist: Maybe her father is the criminal that he is chasing down. If that turned out to be true then I was born to be a forensic profiler.

After a few more minutes of walking and talking (David preferring the latter), they finally arrived at Felicia's house. It was a small two-story house with a single car in the driveway. There were rocks on the porch of the house and they walked over them to get to the front door.

"Can I meet your parents?" David asked, wanting to test if his theory was correct. "I'm sure you have nice parents."

"You can meet my father when I meet your father," she said, "Let's keep things fair."

"Oh, so you have to meet my father first before I can meet your father? I know it's a chivalrous thing to say 'ladies first' but honestly, that doesn't seem fair."

"As mysterious as you are, I'm not letting you date me, let alone touch me until I feel like I can trust you. Plus, as an only child, wouldn't your parents be happy to see you brought a girl home? I have a little brother and I would rather get to know a little more about you before I have you meet him and my parents."

Huh, so she's on guard.

"I guess you have a point there," David said. He watches her unlock the door with a hidden key from her boot and opens the door. She stands in the doorway and turns to face him.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around school," she said, "Stay mysterious, Davey."

And you stay sexy, Felicia.

David smirks and raises an eyebrow at her. "For you, anything, Party-Hardy."

She closes the door.

And I'm out of here.

David arrives home. He climbs up the stairs and he realizes that the conversation is still going on from inside. He wanted to see where they came from the last time he eavesdropped on them and placed his ear on the door once again.

"What's the worst-case scenario if we can't pay the property taxes on time?" Misa asked.

Jim hesitated before he answered, "Our worst-case scenario is that the bank takes our house from us and we have to move."

Us? Move? Far away from Felicia, the girl who just acknowledged me today and became my future girlfriend? I can't let something like this happen. I don't want to move away, I don't want to move to a house out of walking distance from Felicia's house.

"And our best-case scenario?" Misa asked.

David listened carefully to this one.

"Our best-case scenario is that we do manage to pay the bills within the deadline and keep our house." It sounded good enough but he still had something to say. "But even if we do manage to pay the bills on time, I doubt we'll be able to keep it up. Look how we're struggling right now."

There are very few minutes in history where regular humans are permitted to change history. Most people refuse to take that opportunity because they're afraid of change but not me. No, I don't want to move away from Felicia. I like her, she is fun to be around and she is pretty, the prettiest girl in the school I don't want to move away from Midtown High just because my parents failed to pay the bills on time.

David marched into his room and he locked himself in. Closing the curtains, he makes sure no sunlight gets into his small room and turns on his bedside table lamp like it is nighttime. He sat down in his rotating chair at his desk and turned on his computer. The first thing he did was search up about that fight downtown.

What about that fight club downtown? Easy way to make money.

He typed in the fight club that his father mentioned and it popped up instantly. He clicked on the link and it took him to a secure website with a dark background and pictures of muscular people flexing in a closed-off area with yellow police tape saying 'Try It' written across.

Oh yes, I will try it, I will most certainly try it.

There was one category at the top that said 'Schedules' so he clicked on that to see which scheduled fighters were to go on. One of them was called Crow Bar and he was a Jewish fighter with numerous wins under his belt.

It doesn't matter, with my superpowers, I'll wipe the floor with those losers.

He clicked to sign up for the fight. He typed in his personal information like his age (18...not) if this is his first time fighting (Yes...not), and if he agreed that he would not sue for personal injuries (Of course not, not if I had superpowers).

There was another category that said 'Odds to Beat' and when he clicked, it took him to a page that said it showed the odds of beating a fighter, and the higher the odds, the more money involved.

I'll need to steal a thousand dollars from my parents' wallet, however.

The highest odds that were stacked on a player had fifteen to one so if he were beaten then the winner would win fifteen thousand dollars.

Perfect, I'll fight him. He'll be easy prey. But then again, if I show off my superpowers in front of a crowd of people everybody will be stalking me afterward. If too many cameras are on me, I might slip and accidentally reveal that I'm a psychopath. I can't have that so I'll create a costume to blend in.

He took out his sketchbook and opened it to the first page.

What should my costume look like?

A fly buzzes in front of his face. He catches it with his index and thumb.

I'm a spider so it has to be spider-related.

He ate the fly before he takes out a pen and colored markers and began drawing.

His first drawing was him in a spandex suit with an hourglass on the back. He discarded it after finding it to be stupid. He drew a second costume possibility of him with webs for wings. That was more ridiculous than the first one.

He leaps to the ceiling and hangs upside down, taking the sketchbook with him. For his third choice, he drew a white spandex suit with a large spider on his chest. He discarded the idea but the fourth one, he drew something that looked promising.

The red, the black, the spider, the eyes...it is perfect.

Leaping down, he looked into his closet and began pulling out clothes he thought would make a good prototype of the drawing he made in his notebook.

Two Days Later

I have perfected it. A normal, ordinary kid would not be able to pull something like this off and I am normal and ordinary. You'd have to be a prodigy to create a complex device like this. I've been able to create it, and my average grades in school are Bs and Cs. If I constantly kept getting As then it would draw attention and if I kept getting Ds and Fs then the outcome would be the same so Bs and Cs are nothing special. Even so, I don't care about getting As, only getting through the day. But this invention in my wrist is that of a genius.

David flips his hand over to look down at the web-shooter he created.

The fact that I can only shoot organic webs from my mouth is a weakness as I can't control it yet. That's why I built this device to shoot webs from my wrist. I didn't know how to make this before I got bitten, which leads me to believe when the spider bit me, it passed on intelligence or at the very least, the ability to comprehend information faster. The only drawback to these artificial webs is that they are not as strong as the organic webs from my mouth but they are easy to wield and easier to shoot.

David rotated in his chair and he looked around his room to see what he could test his web-shooters on. He had one on both wrists and he needed to test his accuracy. When he shot the webs from his mouth at the crane, he noticed that his accuracy had improved exponentially. He now had mouth-eye coordination and he wanted to test his hand-eye coordination

There was a shoe on the ground. He pressed two fingers on a button and a web shot out towards the shoe. The web hits the shoe and he yanks it towards him. He spins around his chair again and he shoots another web and he hits the bedside table lamp.

Another theory I have is that when the spider bit me, it also passed on proficient hand-eye coordination. I had no accuracy as regular David before he was 'debugged'. Ha, David the Debugged.

He was now in a frenzy.

There was a box of oatmeal cream pies on his desk and he yanked it towards him with webs. There was an aluminum bottle full of water and he caught it as well. A baseball bat, binoculars, his wallet, and his backpack, but he went overboard when he webbed his hooked-up PS4 towards him. He realized his mistake too late and had to catch it with his enhanced reflexes to prevent it from smashing into the wall behind him.

I think I've mastered web-shooting.

After he cleans up his webs and puts all his stuff back where it belongs in a tidy and organized way, he opens his closet to pull out his wrestling clothes.

The day was officially here. It was Freedom Friday and as soon as David raced home from school, he changed into his wrestling gear upstairs and threw on a sweater before rushing downstairs. He ran up to his father who was cooking lunch.

"Dad," he said in a polite voice, "Could you drive me downtown, I'm going with Eddie to the Museum of Natural History."

Jim looked at his son with a suppressed look on his face. He narrowed his eyes, studying his son. He took the pan off of the stove before telling Misa that lunch was ready. He grabs his jacket before taking David out and driving to downtown Manhattan.

Jim pulled the car up to the Museum of Natural History and parked in the parking lot.

"Thanks, Dad," David said but before he could get out, Jim stopped him by putting a hand on his forearm.

"What are you up to, son?" he asked. "For one thing, I know you're not going to the Museum of Natural History."

"I am," David said, "Why did you even bother driving me here if you thought otherwise?"

"Because I just wanted to talk to you," he said as he put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"What's the point of talking right here in the car?" he complained, "We could've done it at home like a normal family?"

"I just wanted to make sure that everything's okay, Davey," he said, calling him by his childhood nickname, "We try to talk to you but all you do is stay in your room all day, you only come out to eat, the police came over to talk to us about the deaths of three kids from school…"

"Those three kids were bullies," David snapped, "They deserved it."

"Davey," Jim said, "Very rarely do you say anyone deserves to die. I just wanted to know what's going on with you?"

"Because it's a parent's obligation to know what's going on with their son?" David said, "I understand."

"I want to know because I love you," Jim said with emotion in his voice, "I'm not doing this because I have an obligation as a parent I'm doing this because I love you. I know that you can't understand love but I want you to know that I'll always love you, no matter what."

You're a liar, you're just saying that. How can someone love someone who doesn't love them back? It's completely irrational.

"Why do you even bother telling me that you love me?" David snapped with anger, "Can you get it through your thick skull that telling me that you love me is useless? Love is supposed to be a two-way streak and if I don't love you then why bother telling me that you love me?"

There was a sad look formed on Jim's face. He clenched his jaw and looked away from his son. "When you're a parent, you'll understand. You'll love your child no matter what becomes of him."

"I'll never be a parent," David said, "Children are made from love and since I can't feel love, I'll never have children."

"Trust me," Jim said, "You will find joy and happiness in your child. No matter how emotionless you are, you'll still love them...just as I love you."

David looked at his father with rage behind his eyes. His father kept telling him that he loved him even though he didn't love his father back. That's what irked David: If love is supposed to be a two-way streak, why bother with the fruitless pursuit of telling someone that you love them? Is it out of obligation, as a parent? Does it come naturally and if so, how come David couldn't feel it?

I can fake any emotions I want but I lack empathy. I don't know what love feels like but I know what it is. It's the desire to protect or even care for someone close to you. Be it a girlfriend or a relative but I can't understand. Why do parents bother telling you that they love you to a person like me? A psychopath. Was it destiny for me not to feel love, I don't care either way. But what I'll never figure out is why this father figure of mine keeps insisting that he loves me even though he knows that I will never love him back. I will never understand it and I think I should tell him that so that when his heart gets broken again by me saying that I don't love him, he'll be ready to expect it next time.

"What is your problem, Dad?" David said angrily this time, even more so than before, "Do you think that just by saying that you love me, I will love you back out of obligation? When are you going to get it through your head: I'm a psychopath and I can't feel love so why should you feel love for me? Get it through your skull that I don't love you and I never will!"

That statement was the most heartbreaking one that Jim had ever heard. He always believed that if he told David that he loved him then maybe David would come to develop those emotions all on his own but that statement felt like a stab to the heart. He turned away from his son in shame and the tears threatened to fall out. He nodded with a clenched jaw.

"I understand how you feel but just know that I am fond of you," he said, trying hard to hide his voice cracking from tears, "I'll pick you up at eight."

"Fond of me, that sounds better. And if it makes you feel better, I am fond of you as well." David sighed in relief but there was something that he was feeling. It felt like there was a fishing hook attached to his ribcage and trying to pull him in the opposite direction as he stepped out of the car.

What is this feeling? I made my point to Dad but what is this feeling in my chest? It feels like something I can't explain but from what I heard, guilt is a tough feeling to describe. Am I feeling guilty for what I just said to my father? It can't be, I can't feel guilty; not capable. But then again, what is this feeling? It feels like it's telling me to get back in the car and drive home with my father.

After Jim drove off, David jogged to the fight club two blocks away. He jogged there as quickly as possible while saving as much energy as possible. When he arrived at the place, it turned out to be a large building with several entrances and there was a sign that said 'NYFL' which stood for 'New York Fighting League' and was open to the public.

David rushed as quickly as he could inside and he gazed out to a stadium of people cheering down at a fight currently happening. He wasn't aware of the fight happening in the ring but he could tell by the crowd of people chanting 'CrowBar', that some fighter named CrowBar was beating his opponent.

He didn't want to waste any more time than possible so he went to change into his costume. When he came out, he found his way to a line where fighters sign up. When it was his turn, he asked the attendant if he could fight multiple opponents.

"You must be out of your mind," she said as she stopped writing, "A feather like you can't stand against three professional fighters in the ring," she laughed.

"I'd like to take my chances," David said firmly, "I want to have three fighters in a one-on-three match."

She looked at him like she was crazy before she pulled an 'Okay' face.

"You understand what injuries you do sustain in a three-to-one battle or any battle for that matter that NYFL will not be responsible for? And if you do agree to a three-to-one match, you must sign up for cage fighting because cage fights involve multiple fighters."

"I understand," David said as he signed the paper. "Is it possible for me to pick my opponents?"

"Sign a request slip here for which fighters you would like to take on and how much you bet on your odds." She hands him another slip for him to sign and he picks his three opponents carefully. "Thank you for singing so when you go out there, tell the announcer that you are doing a one-three cage match and slip him these papers as soon as the current match is done. We want to get our fighters ready and these fighters you're going up against aren't pushovers."

"Neither am I," David said.

"I'm a Catholic so I will pray for you."

Pray to me because I am a god.

David took out a bag of money and handed it to the attendant. "The money I'm betting with."

The money I saved up from all those drawings of mine people bought from me.

The attendant counted the money and told David where to go.

The current fight ended with the muscular fighter known as CrowBar taking the championship. The crowd went crazy for Crowbar and they all cheered for him. The announcer was an old man with white hair and black sunglasses (Stan Lee).

"And let's give a big round of applause for CrowBar," he said into the mic with his old voice. He walks around the ring patiently before holding up a hand to tell everyone to listen. "The odds of beating this titan of pain known as CrowBar, the odds are fifteen to one. Place your bets and you could win a lot of money." He walks out of the ring and towards a curtain while continuing to talk into the mic.

"In the next fight, we have a victim who bet five thousand dollars that he would beat the infamous CrowBar. When I saw his costume, I thought it was ridiculous. A cheap, homemade outfit with no style or substance. May I introduce you: The Titan of Destruction!" The curtains raised up and there came out a second fighter. He walked towards the ring and his fight with the monstrous CrowBar began.

The announcer turned to the curtain as the next fighter stepped up to the curtains. He was told that this next fighter wanted to fight multiple opponents so he turned to the curtain while the fight began. This unseen fighter slipped the slip of paper towards the announcer to see who he was going to fight and how much he was waging.

"What's your cage name?" the old man announcer asked.

"The Sado-Masochistic Spider," the fighter said.

"The Sado-Masochistic Spider-Man?" the announcer repeated, "And you're betting one thousand dollars against three fighters? If you win, that's thirty thousand dollars."

"I know what I'm getting myself into," the fighter said. "And it's just 'Spider', not 'Spider-Man'."

"If you say so," the announcer said in a casual tone. He held the mic up to his mouth and announced, "The next fight after this one will be a three-against-one match which means that the next round is a cage match."

CrowBar finished off his opponent by pile-driving on him.

It was time for the next fight. "Will these fighters please report to the ring: CrowBar, SledgeHammer, and Iron Maiden."

CrowBar stayed in the ring while two other fighters stepped into the ring.

The announcer walked down the path leading to the ring and he announced the new opponent to come out.

"Will the next victim step out into the ring for the cage match," the announcer announced. "The Sadistic, The Masochistic, The...Spider!"

The curtains raised and the crowd cheered for the new opponent.

David Dante's wrestling suit was as cheap and homemade as any suit came. He was wearing a black henley tight against his skin that showed off his muscles and he had red tape running down his sleeves and down his chest to form a V and in the center of his chest was a spider drawn on from a black marker. He wore latex gloves dyed red, black cargo pants, and red lightweight shoes with thin sole materials so he could stick to the wall by his feet. He covered his face with a red balaclava with a spider-web pattern drawn on the front.

David walks forward and down the stage and towards the ring.

People are cheering for me, even though they have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of. I guess it's just human politeness.

Somebody threw a bag of popcorn at him. He barely dodged the food item before he arrived at the ring. He slipped himself through the yellow ropes and faced the three fighters.

Crowbar, SledgeHammer, and Iron Maiden. Your names are cool but you guys are nothing deep down. I'm going to teach the three of you a lesson in pain for choosing such ridiculous names and with this cage match, you won't be escaping.

The cage started lowering from the ceiling. David looks up and realizes what kind of cage match it is.

Hell in a Cell.

The cages touched down and the referee chained the door shut.

Hell in a Cell involves one of the players opening the chained door to escape but how can they escape if the referee has the key?

The referee left the key in the lock.

I get it, this is a game about bailing out. In a match involving multiple opponents, the only way for you to escape is through the door or if you disable your opponents. This seems easy enough. With my superpowers involving surfaces, I can stick to the top of the Hell Cell and give myself a few seconds to calm down. I can even disguise myself sticking on the wall with me just hanging onto the cell tightly. And since everybody knows wrestling is as fake as any promise a politician makes, they may assume my super-jump and super-strength may be staged. That's what I'm hoping for.

Yeah, this will all work out perfectly. The only thing is I can't use my web-shooters unless I have no other choice. I defeated Allan, Robert, and Oliver without intentionally killing them but this time, I'm actively going after three trained opponents and I'm prohibited from killing them. This is most certainly a step up from Allan, Robert, and Oliver.

The announcer from earlier explains the rules over the mic.

"In a cage match, especially Hell in a Cell, there is no time limit and the only way to survive this match is by either escaping through the door that has the key in it or defeating your opponents. Admitting defeat does nothing, meaning that you have to render your opponent physically unable to fight to win this match." He paused for a moment. "Any question? No." he didn't even wait for three seconds for a reply to come back. "Let there be Hell in a Cell!"

The crowd cheered louder at this and they screamed "CROWBAR", clearly wanting him to win.

David stands on the opposite side of the three fighters, each one heavily muscular and showing off their physiques.

"This was a big mistake that you made on your end," CrowBar said to David, "You should've picked your opponents wisely. The odds of you beating us are thirty to one. Don't think that any of us are going easy on you, Spider."

"I expect nothing less," David snapped cockily, "Old shits."

The bell rang.