ok so I know this tool me a LONG ASS time to update, and I'm so sorry I've just been busy
This is my take on the events of when Peter was first bitten
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.
3rd Person P.O.V.
It was a sudden jolt of pain, the two tiny fangs sinking into Peter's neck. He jumped, swatting at the pest. The effect was apparent immediately, his senses exploding with new input. But it was too sudden for the teen. Peter blacked out, falling heavily on the ground.
He awoke slowly, frowning at the pounding headache beating its way through his brain. Peter blinked, taking in his surroundings. His glasses sat uncomfortably on his nose, blurring his vision slightly. The teen hesitantly pulled them off, eyes widening at the crystal clear image that lay in front of him. Whatever had bitten him had somehow fixed his vision, restoring the 20/20 that had been stolen away from him many years ago.
All of his senses were... more intense than they had been before. Peter looked around, quickly spotting the crushed spider nearby. He stood up, frowning. He felt dizzy and hot, the effects of the strange arachnid taking its toll on the 15 year-old.
He stumbled his way out onto the streets, a strange tingle creeping up his neck every so often. It seemed to be a warning, letting Peter know something would happen before it did. And, naturally, Peter was freaked out. He knew this wasn't normal, none of this was. There was something wrong with him, something that may have done him some good, but seemed to have a darker side.
Peter placed his hand against a wall, leaning heavily on his arm as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head. He breathed in and out, the soft sound echoing in Peter's head. He could hear his heartbeat, his strange senses making him hyper-aware of the erratic thumping. He groaned, standing up straight. Peter pulled at his arm, seemingly stuck to the wall. It felt sticky under his palm, and the confused teen panicked. He ripped his hand off the wall, inspecting it for any substances that could've caused him to stick. But it was just another wall, and Peter was just imagining it.
Or so he thought.
The 14 year-old stumbled into his apartment, mumbling a greeting to his aunt and uncle. They both watched him with concern, but didn't pry. Peter collapsed onto his bed, letting a soft groan escape his lips. Every inch of him was on fire, a terrible burning sensation that left the teen writhing in pain. He passed out shortly after, the pain quickly overtaking him.
Peter woke up a few hours later, with no headache, no pain, no burning. It was as if none of it has ever existed, which he supposed was very possible. It wasn't exactly rare for Peter to have strange dreams. He tentatively pressed his hand up against the wall, remembering the stickiness from earlier. When he pulled away, his hand stuck to the surface, just as it has before.
"What the...?" Peter whispered, eyes wide and staring intensely at his stuck hand. He tugged at it, the flimsy sheetrock cracking as he pulled it out of the wall, still attached to his hand. He gaped at the hole in his wall, the realization dawning on him.
He had superpowers.
And damn, were they annoying. Ok, let's see... I have sticky hands, and superstrength... Peter shook his head.
"Why me?" He asked no one in particular. "I don't want this... I just want to be normal, please," he pleaded, a piece of him believing that the powers would leave him, just like that. Hey, if he could get superpowers in the first place, obviously he didn't know everything. But the logic part of him knew no amount of pleading would make this go away.
Peter sighed. He glanced at the broken sheetrock half-heartedly, silently willing his hand to unstick from the material. And, much to his surprise, the jagged chunk fell to the ground, magically detached from his skin. He jumped at the noise, his ears oddly sensitive. Peter frowned, raising an arm to adjust his glasses. But when he went to grab them, he swiped at air, his glasses missing from his face.
"Oh no... my glasses!" He exclaimed quietly, frantically searching around for them. He couldn't afford to lose another pair, May and Ben would be so upset...
"Wait." Peter stopped, looking out the window to see a crystal clear scene below him. He glanced around his room, noticing how he could see perfectly, despite his lack of glasses. Better hearing, perfect eyesight... It all seemed to good to be true.
"Peter?" May called gently, knocking on the door. "Are you ok?"
"I'm ok, May," Peter answered, making his way to the door. "What's up?"
"Oh, well Ben wanted to talk to you. He's in the kitchen," she informed. Peter nodded, heading out to find his uncle.
"Peter! Here, why don't we go on a little walk, hmm? Let's go." The two of them headed out, walking down the street together. Ben was talking, but Peter was barely listening. He was hyper-focused on the noises of the city, many of which he had never noticed before. "... with great power comes great responsibility. You got that?"
"Uhh... yeah." That was an obvious lie. Ben sighed, shaking his head.
"Alright, Peter, if you say so." He turned, walking into a small grocery store. He grabbed a few basic items- milk, eggs, and a small pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Peter's favorite. They were heading to the checkout when a man in a black mask ran into the store, a gun in his hand.
"Everybody get down! Put your hands behind your back!" He yelled. Peter got down panickedly, threading his fingers together behind his head. Ben, however, was oddly calm, refusing to move. "I'm not joking around, you better get down NOW." The man threatened, pointing his gun directly at Ben. Peter froze from his spot on the ground, his doe eyes wide with fear.
"Get. Down. Now." Ben glared at the armed man, standing his ground. The robber chuckled darkly. "If that's how it's gonna be, old man, then I'll play along." He grinned wickedly from beneath the mask.
Peter heard a loud gunshot, and watched as his uncle's limp body fell to the ground.