The Jeffinator
Captain Manbeard
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2005
- Posts
- 8,365
(Please go to the OOC before posting here)
“Man, this is bad...” Peter Parker said to himself as he watched the late-night news from his Queens home in New York City. He was sitting on the edge of his bed in boxers and a t-shirt, his dark room illuminated only by the television on his dresser. The reports were going on and on about the recent Mutant Outbreak – a virus that had infected thousands of people across the globe, giving them strange abilities. It would only grow worse with time, and Peter was more familiar with the roots of the virus than he cared to admit...
SIX WEEKS EARLIER...
Peter sighed as he cleaned off his glasses with a napkin, having just been hit in the face with a water balloon. He sat in the lunch room at Midtown High, soaked and surrounded by laughing students and a smirking Flash Thompson, who had thrown the balloon.
“What're you gonna do about it, Parker?” Flash asked with a laugh. “Nothing! Because you're a fucking pussy!”
Peter looked around, and sure enough, there didn't seem to be a teacher in sight to intervene. He hated confrontations, but Flash was beginning to get on his nerves. Suddenly, a second balloon smashed into the back of his head, this time thrown by the very obese Kong, who happened to be Flash's best friend. Peter stared in anger as he saw Kong laughing.
“Isn't there a doughnut waiting for you somewhere, lard-ass?!” he snapped before he could stop himself. He instantly began to panic as Flash, Kong, and their friends moved in closer.
“You little fuck!” spat Kong. They grabbed Peter, dragged him into an empty classroom, covering his mouth so he wouldn't scream for the teachers. The other students just stared, some smirking as they knew he was about to get his ass beat. And did he ever. The five larger guys began punching and kicking Peter, slammed him into the wall a few times, and then threw him on the floor. They each took turns kicking him in the stomach until they felt he had had enough.
“You watch your fucking mouth in the future, Parker,” Flash said, gripping his hand around Peter's throat. Beaten and bruised, Peter curled up and clutched his gut as the five guys left the room, laughing.
I hate you all, he thought to himself. I wish you would all die...
Later that afternoon, while cleaning out his Uncle Ben and Aunt May's basement, Peter stumbled upon an old shoulder bag that belonged to his father, Richard Parker. Inside, he found an Oscorp I.D. tag that had his father's name and picture on it.
“You never told me my dad worked for Oscorp,” Peter said as he confronted his aunt and uncle upstairs. “You told me he worked in a drug store!”
“Peter, we did what we thought was best, it wasn't--” began Aunt May.
“Tell me the truth!” Peter snapped.
“That's enough, young man!” boomed Uncle Ben. “You will not raise your voice to your aunt like that in my house!”
“I'm sorry,” he apologized instantly. “I just... I just want to know the truth about my father...”
Ben sighed, looked to May, and then back at Peter. “Yes, Pete, your father worked for Oscorp. You don't remember because the crash that took Richard and Mary from us also put you in a coma for five weeks. When you woke up, you had lost quite a bit of your memory – remember how confused you felt?”
“But why hide my father's job from me?”
“Because, just before the crash, your father was worried that someone in the company was out to get him. If there was any truth to that, we didn't want to risk you getting involved with Oscorp – sons have a tendency to follow in their father's footsteps, and you are more like Richard than you know. You have to promise us you will stay away from that place.”
“I promise,” Peter lied. “If someone at that company wanted my father out of the picture, I'd be pretty stupid to go waltzing in there. I can't even deal with bullies at school.” They all laughed, and then Peter went up to his room. He immediately sat down at his desk and started searching online for any hints to his father's involvement with Oscorp. He unearthed one particular article that had a picture of his father and three other men – Curt Conners, Reed Richards, and Victor von Hassen.
After looking up more information about the three men, he discovered that Richards was currently working for NASA down in Florida and Von Hassen was out of the country, but that Curt Conners still worked for Oscorp and also taught classes at Columbia University.
The next day after school, Peter took the bus to Columbia, and Professor Conners was overjoyed to see the son of his old best friend. He began a routine of going to visit Conners every day, telling Uncle Ben and Aunt May that he was studying at the library. After a week or so, Conners let Peter come tour the facilities at Oscorp.
“I have to attend a quick meeting, so I'll leave you to look around,” explained Conners. “You can look, but don't touch, and for heaven's sake, stay out of the restricted section – you're more like your father than you know.”
“Heard that before,” laughed Peter. As soon as he was alone, he made a beeline right for the restricted access area, using a security key he swiped from Conners to get in. He grabbed a lab coat and acted as if he belonged there, and the few people he passed in the halls didn't pay him any mind. He was there for one purpose – to see if he could find anything out about his father's supposed killer. However, he did find the various genetically altered animals and insects incredibly fascinating, especially the chamber that had “super spiders.”
“Damn it, Peter!” snapped Conners in a harsh whisper, suddenly showing up and dragging Peter out of the room. “Are you trying to cost me my job?!”
“No, I just – Ow!” Peter felt a sharp pain on his neck and instinctively slapped his hand on his skin. He felt a bulge, grabbed it, and pulled it out – it was one of the super spiders, now dead.
“Please don't tell me that spider just bit you...”
“It's just a spider bite,” said Peter. Conners sighed, then dragged him into his office and inspected the bite mark.
“That spider was one of a hundred that were bred with the prototype Oz Compound,” explained Conners. “We have not made it to human trials yet, so there is no way to know what the substance will do to you if any of it transferred in the venom of that spider. Do you feel nauseous at all? How is your head feeling?”
“I'm fine,” Peter reassured him. “What does this Oz Compound do?”
“It's supposed to enhanced one's physical parameters,” explained Conners with a sigh. “Have you ever heard of Captain America?”
“Yeah, some war hero from the forties,” replied Peter. “Liked to dress up in red, white and blue. The media made up stories about him being a super soldier and having powers to scare the Nazis.”
“Those were no stories, Peter. The formula used to make Captain America a super soldier was lost when the lab it was created it was attacked. Scientists have tried for decades to recreate the formula, and Oz is the closest we've ever come.”
“That seems so unreal,” Peter said in shock. “Sounds like something out of science fiction.”
“It is very real,” insisted Conners. “So for the next few days, I want you to come see me every day so I can check your vitals and make sure there are no drastic changes. If you start to feel anything abnormal, call me immediately.”
“Will do, Doc,” agreed Peter. When he left Oscorp, he felt fine, but on the bus ride home, he felt increasingly ill. As he walked in the door, he ran to the bathroom and puked into the toilet no less than six times. He kept assuring his aunt and uncle that everything was okay as he dragged himself up the stairs and climbed into bed.
The next morning, he still felt lousy and stayed home from school. While his aunt and uncle were at work, he swallowed down his vomit long enough to sneak out to see Conners.
“My god, Peter,” he gasped as he looked into a microscope. “You... you're DNA sequences are all off! It's as if the Oz is trying to replicate the genetic structure of a spider within your body!”
“Does... that mean I'm going to turn into a giant insect or something?” he asked.
“Peter...” said Conners slowly. “This mutation could destabilize your entire genetic structure. At the rate it is evolving... It is likely to cause complete organ failure within seventy-two hours... Peter, I'm so sorry...”
“No,” said Peter, his eyes watering up a bit. “This is not going to kill me. It can't.”
“I'm sorry Peter, but the damage is done, and it grows worse by the hour. Damn it, why didn't you stay out of the restricted area? If we report this, I will lose my job.”
“Well I'm sorry my impending death is a burden on your fucking career!” snapped Peter, tears rolling down his cheeks. He turned and ran from the room.
“Peter!” Conners called after him. “Damn it...”
Over the next few days, Peter began to feel worse, but then the symptoms vanished and he started feeling normal... No, better than normal. He felt fantastic. He was full of energy and soon discovered he didn't even need his glasses anymore.
“Remarkable!” exclaimed Conners, looking at a new blood sample under the microscope. “The spider DNA has merged with your own DNA flawlessly! Not only has the former genetic damage been repaired, but your physical attributes have improved drastically!”
“I do feel amazing,” agreed Peter.
“Do you know what this means?!” asked Conners happily. “We have had our first successful human trial of the Oz Compound! Imagine if I injected myself with a mixture of reptile DNA and Oz – I could regrow my arm!”
“But we have no idea if the procedure would play out the same,” suggested Peter. “It could kill you, or turn you into a monster.”
“Yes, yes,” he replied sadly. “You're right...”
The next day, Peter went to Conners office to see the Professor grinning ear to ear – he had two arms again.
“Doc, you didn't!”
“It worked, Peter!” cried Conners happily. “It worked! I mixed the blood of a lizard with Oz and voila!”
“But... How did it happen overnight when mine took days?”
“I increased the amount of Oz to speed up the mutation.”
“That was very dangerous...” said Peter slowly.
“But completely worth it, my boy! Oho!”
Over the next few days, Conners pretended to be wearing a prosthetic arm to hide the truth from his superiors. He continued to monitor his blood, but one morning, he noticed something different – the Oz in his blood had mutated into a sort of virus. Once he realized this, he immediately called Peter to his office and checked him, but he was fine.
“Who else were you close to that could have caught this virus?” he asked.
“I don't know...” replied Conners. “My barber, maybe. A few taxi drivers. The problem is, I have no way of knowing without tracking them all down and taking samples of their blood...”
“Who's your barber? Do you remember the names of the drivers?” asked Peter. He got what information he could, then went to the barber's shop. Using his new enhanced agility, he was able to prick the man's finger quickly and then run from the shop, down an alley, and a few blocks down. The pricker had a drop of blood on it that he put into a small vial. He repeated this with the drivers Conners was able to remember, and then returned to his office.
“Damn, this is not good...” he said after analyzing the blood samples.
“Are they infected?” asked Peter.
“Yes,” replied Conners. “All of them. And I'm afraid it's more than likely that they passed it on to their customers. Oh my god... If the drivers infected passengers they were taking to the airport...”
“This could turn into a pandemic,” Peter completed his sentence. “We have to tell someone...”
“We can't!” demanded Conners. “We have to keep this a secret! Look, look! The virus seems to be dormant in all three of these samples. If there are no visible symptoms in the infected, then know one will ever know.”
“But any doctor who gives them a blood test will know,” explained Peter.
“Yes, but they won't know we caused it. Do you realize what would happen if we came clean? If we shed light on this and became known as the creators of a pandemic? We'd be locked away in a federal penitentiary, for starters.”
“Because we conducted genetic experimentation outside the confines of a government-sanctioned facility...” said Peter.
“Yes,” replied Conners. “The labs at Oscorp are legal – my office is not. We must keep this a secret, Peter.”
“You're right,” he replied, sighing. “I won't say anything.”
Over the next couple of weeks, reports started flooding into the news stations about people gaining special powers. It didn't take long at all for people to discover it was a virus, and they were able to link it to Oscorp through the traces of Oz, but not any one in particular. Conners warned Peter to lay low and stay away from him for the time being, since the labs were crawling with government officials.
The guilt began to eat away at Peter as he watched news reports of more and more mutants surfacing, many of them becoming menaces to society. Despite this, he did not take action against the mutants he helped created. At least not at first. His views changed drastically the day his Uncle Ben was killed by Flint Marko, a thug who gained the ability to turn into and control sand.
He dressed in jeans and a hooded sweater, pulled on a pair of gloves, and slipped on a baklava mask with two eye-holes. He lifted the hood up over his head, and then jumped out his bedroom window, vanishing into the shadows. His outfit was entirely black, which made it easier for him to spy on various criminals from ledges or allies, listening for leads to Marko's location. He had developed the ability to cling to walls at will and his “Spider Sense” helped warn him of impending danger.
After spending several nights in a row running around the rooftops and beating up thugs for leads, Peter finally tracked down Marko, and an epic battle ensued. In the end, he managed to explode a few propane tanks right under the “Sandman,” turning most of his body into shattered glass. The small part that remained formed into a face and laughed.
“You are no different than me,” it hissed. “You selfishly chased after me while letting others suffer. People you could have helped.”
“I am nothing like you!” spat Peter.
“Yessss, yes you are,” he laughed. “Your uncle would be disgusted with you, hahaha. You tracked me down, destroyed most of my body, and now you are going to murder me. You uncle would be ashamed, boy, hahaha.”
“Shut up!” cried Peter, “Shut up! Gah! Fuck! God damn it! Arrghh!” he screamed and punched a nearby wall several times until the brick started to crack.
“Don't fight it,” Marko urged. “Give in to your hate. Kill me! Avenge your dead uncle! Hahaha!”
Peter balled his fists and gritted his teeth, then let out a long, deep sigh. “No. I will not fall to your level.”
“You're already there, boy!”
Peter turned and walked away, ignoring Marko's taunts. He disappeared into the shadows, returned home, and then threw his black crime-fighting clothes in the trash. He sat on his bed and sobbed as he stared at a picture of his Uncle Ben.
“I'm sorry, Uncle...” he wept. “You always said with great power comes great responsibility, but I wasn't very responsible with my power... I have the power to help people and fight these new mutants, therefore I am obligated to. I will make you proud, Uncle...”
A few days later, Peter began fighting crime in broad daylight, wearing a red and blue suit he made himself. He had “borrowed” a few things from Oscorp to build himself web-shooters and several other gadgets. When rescuing a family from a burning building, the mother asked, “Who are you?”
“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” he replied before swinging off.
“Man, this is bad...” Peter Parker said to himself as he watched the late-night news from his Queens home in New York City. He was sitting on the edge of his bed in boxers and a t-shirt, his dark room illuminated only by the television on his dresser. The reports were going on and on about the recent Mutant Outbreak – a virus that had infected thousands of people across the globe, giving them strange abilities. It would only grow worse with time, and Peter was more familiar with the roots of the virus than he cared to admit...
SIX WEEKS EARLIER...
Peter sighed as he cleaned off his glasses with a napkin, having just been hit in the face with a water balloon. He sat in the lunch room at Midtown High, soaked and surrounded by laughing students and a smirking Flash Thompson, who had thrown the balloon.
“What're you gonna do about it, Parker?” Flash asked with a laugh. “Nothing! Because you're a fucking pussy!”
Peter looked around, and sure enough, there didn't seem to be a teacher in sight to intervene. He hated confrontations, but Flash was beginning to get on his nerves. Suddenly, a second balloon smashed into the back of his head, this time thrown by the very obese Kong, who happened to be Flash's best friend. Peter stared in anger as he saw Kong laughing.
“Isn't there a doughnut waiting for you somewhere, lard-ass?!” he snapped before he could stop himself. He instantly began to panic as Flash, Kong, and their friends moved in closer.
“You little fuck!” spat Kong. They grabbed Peter, dragged him into an empty classroom, covering his mouth so he wouldn't scream for the teachers. The other students just stared, some smirking as they knew he was about to get his ass beat. And did he ever. The five larger guys began punching and kicking Peter, slammed him into the wall a few times, and then threw him on the floor. They each took turns kicking him in the stomach until they felt he had had enough.
“You watch your fucking mouth in the future, Parker,” Flash said, gripping his hand around Peter's throat. Beaten and bruised, Peter curled up and clutched his gut as the five guys left the room, laughing.
I hate you all, he thought to himself. I wish you would all die...
Later that afternoon, while cleaning out his Uncle Ben and Aunt May's basement, Peter stumbled upon an old shoulder bag that belonged to his father, Richard Parker. Inside, he found an Oscorp I.D. tag that had his father's name and picture on it.
“You never told me my dad worked for Oscorp,” Peter said as he confronted his aunt and uncle upstairs. “You told me he worked in a drug store!”
“Peter, we did what we thought was best, it wasn't--” began Aunt May.
“Tell me the truth!” Peter snapped.
“That's enough, young man!” boomed Uncle Ben. “You will not raise your voice to your aunt like that in my house!”
“I'm sorry,” he apologized instantly. “I just... I just want to know the truth about my father...”
Ben sighed, looked to May, and then back at Peter. “Yes, Pete, your father worked for Oscorp. You don't remember because the crash that took Richard and Mary from us also put you in a coma for five weeks. When you woke up, you had lost quite a bit of your memory – remember how confused you felt?”
“But why hide my father's job from me?”
“Because, just before the crash, your father was worried that someone in the company was out to get him. If there was any truth to that, we didn't want to risk you getting involved with Oscorp – sons have a tendency to follow in their father's footsteps, and you are more like Richard than you know. You have to promise us you will stay away from that place.”
“I promise,” Peter lied. “If someone at that company wanted my father out of the picture, I'd be pretty stupid to go waltzing in there. I can't even deal with bullies at school.” They all laughed, and then Peter went up to his room. He immediately sat down at his desk and started searching online for any hints to his father's involvement with Oscorp. He unearthed one particular article that had a picture of his father and three other men – Curt Conners, Reed Richards, and Victor von Hassen.
After looking up more information about the three men, he discovered that Richards was currently working for NASA down in Florida and Von Hassen was out of the country, but that Curt Conners still worked for Oscorp and also taught classes at Columbia University.
The next day after school, Peter took the bus to Columbia, and Professor Conners was overjoyed to see the son of his old best friend. He began a routine of going to visit Conners every day, telling Uncle Ben and Aunt May that he was studying at the library. After a week or so, Conners let Peter come tour the facilities at Oscorp.
“I have to attend a quick meeting, so I'll leave you to look around,” explained Conners. “You can look, but don't touch, and for heaven's sake, stay out of the restricted section – you're more like your father than you know.”
“Heard that before,” laughed Peter. As soon as he was alone, he made a beeline right for the restricted access area, using a security key he swiped from Conners to get in. He grabbed a lab coat and acted as if he belonged there, and the few people he passed in the halls didn't pay him any mind. He was there for one purpose – to see if he could find anything out about his father's supposed killer. However, he did find the various genetically altered animals and insects incredibly fascinating, especially the chamber that had “super spiders.”
“Damn it, Peter!” snapped Conners in a harsh whisper, suddenly showing up and dragging Peter out of the room. “Are you trying to cost me my job?!”
“No, I just – Ow!” Peter felt a sharp pain on his neck and instinctively slapped his hand on his skin. He felt a bulge, grabbed it, and pulled it out – it was one of the super spiders, now dead.
“Please don't tell me that spider just bit you...”
“It's just a spider bite,” said Peter. Conners sighed, then dragged him into his office and inspected the bite mark.
“That spider was one of a hundred that were bred with the prototype Oz Compound,” explained Conners. “We have not made it to human trials yet, so there is no way to know what the substance will do to you if any of it transferred in the venom of that spider. Do you feel nauseous at all? How is your head feeling?”
“I'm fine,” Peter reassured him. “What does this Oz Compound do?”
“It's supposed to enhanced one's physical parameters,” explained Conners with a sigh. “Have you ever heard of Captain America?”
“Yeah, some war hero from the forties,” replied Peter. “Liked to dress up in red, white and blue. The media made up stories about him being a super soldier and having powers to scare the Nazis.”
“Those were no stories, Peter. The formula used to make Captain America a super soldier was lost when the lab it was created it was attacked. Scientists have tried for decades to recreate the formula, and Oz is the closest we've ever come.”
“That seems so unreal,” Peter said in shock. “Sounds like something out of science fiction.”
“It is very real,” insisted Conners. “So for the next few days, I want you to come see me every day so I can check your vitals and make sure there are no drastic changes. If you start to feel anything abnormal, call me immediately.”
“Will do, Doc,” agreed Peter. When he left Oscorp, he felt fine, but on the bus ride home, he felt increasingly ill. As he walked in the door, he ran to the bathroom and puked into the toilet no less than six times. He kept assuring his aunt and uncle that everything was okay as he dragged himself up the stairs and climbed into bed.
The next morning, he still felt lousy and stayed home from school. While his aunt and uncle were at work, he swallowed down his vomit long enough to sneak out to see Conners.
“My god, Peter,” he gasped as he looked into a microscope. “You... you're DNA sequences are all off! It's as if the Oz is trying to replicate the genetic structure of a spider within your body!”
“Does... that mean I'm going to turn into a giant insect or something?” he asked.
“Peter...” said Conners slowly. “This mutation could destabilize your entire genetic structure. At the rate it is evolving... It is likely to cause complete organ failure within seventy-two hours... Peter, I'm so sorry...”
“No,” said Peter, his eyes watering up a bit. “This is not going to kill me. It can't.”
“I'm sorry Peter, but the damage is done, and it grows worse by the hour. Damn it, why didn't you stay out of the restricted area? If we report this, I will lose my job.”
“Well I'm sorry my impending death is a burden on your fucking career!” snapped Peter, tears rolling down his cheeks. He turned and ran from the room.
“Peter!” Conners called after him. “Damn it...”
Over the next few days, Peter began to feel worse, but then the symptoms vanished and he started feeling normal... No, better than normal. He felt fantastic. He was full of energy and soon discovered he didn't even need his glasses anymore.
“Remarkable!” exclaimed Conners, looking at a new blood sample under the microscope. “The spider DNA has merged with your own DNA flawlessly! Not only has the former genetic damage been repaired, but your physical attributes have improved drastically!”
“I do feel amazing,” agreed Peter.
“Do you know what this means?!” asked Conners happily. “We have had our first successful human trial of the Oz Compound! Imagine if I injected myself with a mixture of reptile DNA and Oz – I could regrow my arm!”
“But we have no idea if the procedure would play out the same,” suggested Peter. “It could kill you, or turn you into a monster.”
“Yes, yes,” he replied sadly. “You're right...”
The next day, Peter went to Conners office to see the Professor grinning ear to ear – he had two arms again.
“Doc, you didn't!”
“It worked, Peter!” cried Conners happily. “It worked! I mixed the blood of a lizard with Oz and voila!”
“But... How did it happen overnight when mine took days?”
“I increased the amount of Oz to speed up the mutation.”
“That was very dangerous...” said Peter slowly.
“But completely worth it, my boy! Oho!”
Over the next few days, Conners pretended to be wearing a prosthetic arm to hide the truth from his superiors. He continued to monitor his blood, but one morning, he noticed something different – the Oz in his blood had mutated into a sort of virus. Once he realized this, he immediately called Peter to his office and checked him, but he was fine.
“Who else were you close to that could have caught this virus?” he asked.
“I don't know...” replied Conners. “My barber, maybe. A few taxi drivers. The problem is, I have no way of knowing without tracking them all down and taking samples of their blood...”
“Who's your barber? Do you remember the names of the drivers?” asked Peter. He got what information he could, then went to the barber's shop. Using his new enhanced agility, he was able to prick the man's finger quickly and then run from the shop, down an alley, and a few blocks down. The pricker had a drop of blood on it that he put into a small vial. He repeated this with the drivers Conners was able to remember, and then returned to his office.
“Damn, this is not good...” he said after analyzing the blood samples.
“Are they infected?” asked Peter.
“Yes,” replied Conners. “All of them. And I'm afraid it's more than likely that they passed it on to their customers. Oh my god... If the drivers infected passengers they were taking to the airport...”
“This could turn into a pandemic,” Peter completed his sentence. “We have to tell someone...”
“We can't!” demanded Conners. “We have to keep this a secret! Look, look! The virus seems to be dormant in all three of these samples. If there are no visible symptoms in the infected, then know one will ever know.”
“But any doctor who gives them a blood test will know,” explained Peter.
“Yes, but they won't know we caused it. Do you realize what would happen if we came clean? If we shed light on this and became known as the creators of a pandemic? We'd be locked away in a federal penitentiary, for starters.”
“Because we conducted genetic experimentation outside the confines of a government-sanctioned facility...” said Peter.
“Yes,” replied Conners. “The labs at Oscorp are legal – my office is not. We must keep this a secret, Peter.”
“You're right,” he replied, sighing. “I won't say anything.”
Over the next couple of weeks, reports started flooding into the news stations about people gaining special powers. It didn't take long at all for people to discover it was a virus, and they were able to link it to Oscorp through the traces of Oz, but not any one in particular. Conners warned Peter to lay low and stay away from him for the time being, since the labs were crawling with government officials.
The guilt began to eat away at Peter as he watched news reports of more and more mutants surfacing, many of them becoming menaces to society. Despite this, he did not take action against the mutants he helped created. At least not at first. His views changed drastically the day his Uncle Ben was killed by Flint Marko, a thug who gained the ability to turn into and control sand.
He dressed in jeans and a hooded sweater, pulled on a pair of gloves, and slipped on a baklava mask with two eye-holes. He lifted the hood up over his head, and then jumped out his bedroom window, vanishing into the shadows. His outfit was entirely black, which made it easier for him to spy on various criminals from ledges or allies, listening for leads to Marko's location. He had developed the ability to cling to walls at will and his “Spider Sense” helped warn him of impending danger.
After spending several nights in a row running around the rooftops and beating up thugs for leads, Peter finally tracked down Marko, and an epic battle ensued. In the end, he managed to explode a few propane tanks right under the “Sandman,” turning most of his body into shattered glass. The small part that remained formed into a face and laughed.
“You are no different than me,” it hissed. “You selfishly chased after me while letting others suffer. People you could have helped.”
“I am nothing like you!” spat Peter.
“Yessss, yes you are,” he laughed. “Your uncle would be disgusted with you, hahaha. You tracked me down, destroyed most of my body, and now you are going to murder me. You uncle would be ashamed, boy, hahaha.”
“Shut up!” cried Peter, “Shut up! Gah! Fuck! God damn it! Arrghh!” he screamed and punched a nearby wall several times until the brick started to crack.
“Don't fight it,” Marko urged. “Give in to your hate. Kill me! Avenge your dead uncle! Hahaha!”
Peter balled his fists and gritted his teeth, then let out a long, deep sigh. “No. I will not fall to your level.”
“You're already there, boy!”
Peter turned and walked away, ignoring Marko's taunts. He disappeared into the shadows, returned home, and then threw his black crime-fighting clothes in the trash. He sat on his bed and sobbed as he stared at a picture of his Uncle Ben.
“I'm sorry, Uncle...” he wept. “You always said with great power comes great responsibility, but I wasn't very responsible with my power... I have the power to help people and fight these new mutants, therefore I am obligated to. I will make you proud, Uncle...”
A few days later, Peter began fighting crime in broad daylight, wearing a red and blue suit he made himself. He had “borrowed” a few things from Oscorp to build himself web-shooters and several other gadgets. When rescuing a family from a burning building, the mother asked, “Who are you?”
“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” he replied before swinging off.