Chapter 1: Spotlight
Gwen Stacy was sat atop the world. Or at least that was how it felt. Up here everything felt so far away: the people, the cars, the noise. The night air was cool on her face. It had been an interesting summer to say the least. It had been… Spectacular. All thanks to her new alter ego: Spider-woman.
Not many people really knew of her yet, which was hardly a problem. For now, she was content to get her work done from the shadows, keeping a low profile under the cover of myth. People knew of her name, but that was all, and she intended to keep it that way. Made her life easier.
Suddenly, an alarm rang out. A shrill knife through the still night air. Spider-woman looked down, broken from her revery by the sudden noise. She looked for the source and spotted it a short way down the street. A small jewellery store stood wailing, its windows smashed. A cluster of people in dark clothes and balaclavas were scuttling around, fishing out anything they could get their hands on and stuffing it into inconspicuous brown sacks.
"Just when I thought it would be a quiet night," Spider-woman sighed.
She stretched out an arm, shooting out a web line to a nearby lamppost and using it to swing down to the street below. She landed gracefully and silently behind the gathering. None of them turned to face her. She reached out and tapped one of them on the shoulder, "Excuse me?"
He turned, startled.
"Yeah, those don't belong to you." she continued.
His eyes widened under the mask, "It's her! It's Spider-woman!"
He heaved the heavy sack awkwardly at her. She easily sidestepped the clumsy swing and the weight of it caused him to stumble. Grabbing a hold of the sack with one hand, Spider-woman ripped it away and shoved the man to the floor with the other. The man tried to scramble to his feet, but a quick burst of webbing stuck his hands to the asphalt.
"Now," Spider-woman smirked, turning to face the others, "Whose turn is it?"
The rest of the men fanned out cautiously. Gwen noted that a couple were armed with crowbars and another was armed with a heavy length of pipe. She'd have to be more careful of them. She may have super strength and agility, but a broken skull was still a broken skull.
For a brief moment, they all stood, frozen. Then, one of the men with the crowbars broke from the ranks. Roaring, he lunged forward, the crowbar scything through the air towards her. Gwen dashed to the side, grabbed the man's arm and swung him towards the others, using the man's weight and momentum to throw him into his pipe wielding companion. That broke the spell and the rest of them leapt forwards to tackle her. Gwen jumped up and over them, shooting a line of webbing onto two men's backs. She landed and rolled, using her own weight and strength to lift the men from the ground and slam them into the concrete slabs of the sidewalk.
She sprung to her feet, ready to take on the last man. But to her surprise, the last opponent turned tail and ran.
"Uh, no. I don't think so," Gwen tutted. A line of webbing shot forth from her wrist and stuck itself to the man's jacket. Gwen dug her heels and heaved. The man was stopped dead, and fell with a heavy thud to the road. However the man slipped his jacket off, clambered to his feet, and took off sprinting again.
Gwen sighed and rolled her eyes, "It's cute how they think they can outrun me still."
She was about to take off after him, when something flashed in the corner of her eye. She looked around, startled, and saw a kid not much older than her. He stood, peeking out a nearby alleyway, smartphone in hand. The built in camera was pointed in her direction. Immediately, Gwen shot out a web and yanked the phone out his hand.
"Hey!" He said, indignantly.
"No ph-" Gwen started, then she stopped, "Wait. Hold on a second."
She stooped down and tugged off one the unconscious men's shoes. For a moment she stood, contemplating the angles, then, pulled back her arm and threw the shoe after the fleeing man. It landed with a satisfying thunk on the man's head and he crumpled.
She turned her attention back the phone, and thumbed through the cellphone's gallery. There were a lot of photos here, mostly blurry and out of focus ones, but a few good ones of her in action. The kid ran up next to her and she glanced over him. He was definitely older than her, but not by much. He wore a loose fitting denim jacket and khaki pants that he'd rolled up over the ankle.
"How long have you been here?" She asked, as she continued to look through the pictures.
"A while," he said, slightly sheepishly.
Gwen began deleting the photos, one by one.
"Hey! What are you-?" He said, but was interrupted by Gwen putting a finger in his face.
"No photos. I don't want a spotlight on me. Last thing I need is the media after me for interviews."
Gwen finished up deleting the evidence, and tossed the phone back to the kid, "Look, I'm trying not to be rude, but no photos. 'Kay?"
"Okay,"he said begrudgingly.
"That's what I like to hear. Now, go home."
The kid opened his mouth to speak, but Gwen interrupted him again with her finger. She leaned forward with one hand on her hip.
"Nope. No buts," She said firmly, "Go."
She spun the kid around and gave him a little push to prompt him. He stumbled slightly, then began to awkwardly half-jog away. Sighing, she turned back to the pile of unconscious would-be thieves scattered across the road and began pile the bodies together.
"You know," she said to one of the unconscious men, as she dumped his limp form next to the others, "I feel like I deserve better than this."
She spun a length of webbing, and tied into a loose loop.
"I mean, you guys still seem to think you can get away with this stuff." She threw the loop around the men, and pulled it tight, binding them all together.
"I know I haven't been around long," she continued, flipping the line of webbing over a streetlight, "But I still feel like I'm basically just New York's garbage disposal."
She heaved, pulling the group of men up into the air. They hung, like a bizarre Christmas ornament, from the streetlight, swaying slightly in the breeze.
"Now, you stay there, got it?"
Gwen rolled her shoulders, feeling the bones across her back click.
"Ugh. I gotta get home."
She hopped up onto the streetlamp, vaulted up onto the roof of the store, and away into the night sky.
From both above, and below. A pair of eyes watched her go. In the street, the boy who had photoed her before spoke rapidly into his cellphone.
"Yo Charlie. Dude, did you get 'em? ... You did? Sweet. Get me Jonah. Tell him I got summit for him."
Above, inside one of New York many towers, two men sat alone in a shadowy room. A laptop sat between them, and Gwen, mid swing, was frozen on the screen.
"So, she's real?" One of the voices said. The voice was deep and powerful, and it's speaker was masked in shadow. The other man, a heavy, brutish looking man in a dark suit, simply nodded.
"That could be a problem. I don't need a vigilante running around, bringing attention to my operations." The suited man nodded again, and began to leave his chair, when the voice spoke again.
"Actually, bring me the Enforcers too. I want professionals in one this too. I need to show her exactly what happens when she messes with the Big Man's empire."
The other man smirked, nodded once and left the office. The voice was left alone, contemplating the image on-screen.
The Next Morning…
Gwen was sat at the kitchen table, poring over one of her textbooks. It was the first day of a new year back at M3, and a gorgeous one at that. The sun was beaming down outside, and a light breeze rustled through the verdant trees outside. Her father, Captain George Stacy, was stood at the window, watching the world go by with a mug of coffee in hand.
"Are you all ready for your fist day back?" He asked. Gwen looked up, and saw him looking across at her.
"Yeah, I think so," She said smiling.
"Are you sure?" He asked, "Aren't you missing something?" He gestured to her eyes. Gwen titled her head, perplexed, then realized. Crap, her glasses.
She'd worn glasses all her life, but ever since the spider bit her, her eyesight had been better than ever. She didn't need them anymore, but wore them regardless, so as to not draw undue attention.
"Oh yeah, I uhh.. I guess I forgot?"
Captain Stacy laughed, "Not like my Gwen to forget something like that." He walked over and set his empty coffee cup down on the table. Gwen looked down and smiled to herself.
"I gotta go," He said, sighing and glancing down at his watch, "They need me down at the precinct early. Something about a vigilante."
Gwen's expression froze. A vigilante?
"Oh, anything serious?" She said, trying her hardest to remain nonchalant.
"I don't know yet," He said grimly, "Apparently they took down five guys last night as they broke into a jewelery store last night. Left them tied up and hung from a lamppost for us to collect."
Gwen's blood ran cold. How did they know? Did the thugs confess? Maybe the kid from last night? Or maybe a resident nearby? After she'd been so careful all summer to leave no real traces of her, she'd slipped up on a smash and grab?
That's what happens when you get cocky, said a snide little voice inside her. She quashed it, and probed further.
"Do you think you can catch them?"
"Who knows," he replied, shrugging, "They were long gone before it was even reported. Honestly, this is the last thing I could do with right now."
Gwen sat back, running the situation through her head. This wasn't as bad as it looked. Apparently the thugs hadn't said who she was, and anyway, who'd believe them if they did? It's not like there's any way their story can be corroborated. She was safe. For now. But she'd have to be extra careful to not get spotted.
"Gwen?" Her father's voice broke her train of thought.
"Oh, uh.. Yeah, sorry. What did you say?"
Her father pursed his lips, looking closely at her.
"Are you okay?" He asked, "You seem distracted."
"I'm fine Dad, don't worry," Gwen said, smiling wearily, "Just tired."
"Right," He said. He both looked and sounded like he didn't believe her for a second, but didn't have the time to debate it now. "I'll see you later, have a good first day."
He turned away, and Gwen watched him, as he opened the door and stepped through. It closed behind him, and she heard the rattle of the key in the lock. For a moment, all was silent, save for the slow, soft ticking of the kitchen clock. She glanced at it. Only twenty minutes until she had to leave. Her bag and the rest of her things were still upstairs, and she wanted to make sure she didn't forget anything on her first day back. Plus her glasses were up there too. She rose, stretching her arms high above her head, and feeling the joints in her shoulders and fingers crack. Her nightly excursions were enjoyable, but often left her achy and tired come the morning.
Leisurely, she headed up the staircase to her bedroom. The upstairs of the house wasn't big by any means. Her bedroom was the door directly opposite the stairs. The bathroom was on the right, her father's bedroom on the left. She'd insisted they take bedroom as far away from each other as possible, so that his snoring wouldn't wake her through the walls. She entered her bedroom. It wasn't much, a modestly sized room, a wardrobe against one wall, her desk against the other, and her bed tucked away into the corner. Her clothes from the day before lay in a pile at the foot of her bed. She stepped in, closing the door behind her.
A slight gust of wind rustled the papers on her desk. She must have left the window open when she came in last night. Bag, she needed her bag. Where the heck had she put it? She knelt down and scanned the floor beneath her bed. Not there, but her costume was. She paused for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it. She stood, holding the costume at arm's length and looking it over. It was mostly black, with the top half being white, the two colors meeting at her chest, with a blade of white coming down to her midriff. The mask was blank, with only an exaggerated outline of her eyes in a deep, dark red.. A hood hung loosely from the costume's neck. She was quite proud of what she'd created. She'd never been any good at sewing, and the creation of this had taken many, many nights staying up until the early hours of the morning at her desk. She was sure she wouldn't have any blood left after all the times she'd managed to prick her finger with the needle.
Did she leave it here? Could she risk that? What if her Dad came home and found it? But if she takes it, what if it falls out her bag, or someone sees it? She can't hide it in there. She let her arms drop, and sat down on the side of the bed, thinking. Her wardrobe door was ajar, and inside, she caught sight of one of her favorite jackets; a pale pink hoodie. She looked from the jacket to the costume. That could work. If she can't hide it, she'd just have to wear it. The hoodie was loose enough that it wouldn't be hard to hide the costume underneath, plus it would be a good way of concealing her new muscle, brought about by the spider bite.
Quickly, she stripped down and pulled the costume on. The jacket came next, and she zipped it all the way to her throat. To hide her legs, she grabbed a baggy pair of jeans and slipped them on. She tucked the hood of the costume down beneath her jacket. It was uncomfortable, but I would have to do. The boots and mask still lay on the bed. She'd just have to hide them in her bag. At least they were quite small, they could be stuffed at the bottom underneath her books and lunch.
Speaking of, she'd forgotten to find her bag, she scanned the room, and spotted it, hidden beneath her pile of dirty laundry. She scooped it up, and shoved the rest of the costume to the very bottom. She grabbed her textbooks next, sliding them into the bag. Something clattered to the floor, and Gwen looked down, a little surprised. Her glasses lay on the floor, the way they fell made it look they were staring up at her with an almost indignant look. She picked them up of the floor, and put them on. The glasses were fake. A prop, similar to those used by theater groups and the like. They looked almost identical to her old pair, and it meant there would be no probing questions about where they had suddenly disappeared to.
Gwen took one final look around the room, doubling checking that she hadn't left anything, before shutting the door behind her, and setting off for her first day of a new year.
"How could you do it Otto?" The voice was harsh and angry. The voice of Adrian Toomes, a tall and skeletal man, wearing an old fashioned green suit, with a large hooked nose and cunning, beady eyes. Toomes was an inventor, though one without any luck, or, in reality, any good ideas. The other man, Otto Octavius, the one being assailed, was short and squat, with a pair of thick square glasses perched on his chubby nose.
Otto stumbled backwards. He hated conflict, and his anxiety was causing his brain to spin in circles.
"Adr- I- I-" He stammered, unable to form any words in his defense.
"I trusted you," Toomes snarled, "I thought you were my compatriot. You set up this Oscorp deal, and allowed my work to be stolen!"
"Adrian, p-please. I- I- only meant for the best."
"Pathetic!" Toomes shrieked, shoving Otto and sending him tumbling down the hard metal staircase behind them, "But what else should I expect from Osborne's lackey?"
Otto pushed himself off the cold floor. His glasses were askew; one of the arms had cracked, making them hang loose and uneven.
"Listen, Adrian please," Otto pleaded, "Look, I- I'm sorry okay?"
"Don't apologize Otto," said another voice, this one strong and commanding in comparison to Toomes' high screech. Both men looked around. Norman Osborne had entered the room, flanked on either side by two grim-faced bodyguards. Both were dressed in pale gray suits, their eyes hidden behind disks of dark glass. Osborne stepped forwards, putting himself between Toomes and Otto.
"After all," He continued, "I never do."
"You," Toomes hissed, his voice dripping with venom. His hands were curled into white knuckled fists, and he was shaking with rage.
"You stole my research. That was my Techflight! It was my magnum opus, and you took it from me."
Osborne was unconcerned.
"Oh really?" He said, examining his nails, "Then prove it."
"I will!" Toomes spat, "I'll present my papers to the world. My research and invention will be everywhere, and all will know of Osborne, the petty thief."
"And by that research," Osborne asked coolly, "Do you mean the research that Oscorp has already published and trademarked?"
"That same research, which is now undergoing the process of being patented by me?"
"Face it Toomes," Osborne said, "Who is the public going to believe invented this revolutionary technology: The multinational corporation, headed up by me, which employs some of the best minds in the country? Or you, some no-name inventor from the past, who hasn't had a single good idea in his life until now?"
"Now look here Osborne."
Osborne cut across him with a wave of his hand.
"I think you're done Adrian. Gentlemen," He said to his guards, gesturing in Toomes' direction, "Please escort Mr. Toomes out of the building."
"I will go nowhere with your attack dogs Osborne," Toomes snarled.
Osborne's expression hardened. The two men stepped up to his shoulder, one on either side. Their faces were stone-like and impassive, and they loomed over Toomes. They looked like they could, and would, snap him like a twig without a second's hesitation, as long as that was what Osborne wanted.
"Toomes, you can go with my men, or you can leave the building with the police. You did try to assault one of my staff, after all." Otto had finally picked himself up of the ground, and he stood slightly behind Osborne, peering out between the thick arms of the security staff. His broken glasses were clutched in his hands, and his gaze was averted to the floor. He did feel responsible for what Osborne had done, for if he hadn't brought him here, none of this would have happened. It was hard not to see the guilt weighing down on the man. Adrian Toomes used to be one of Otto greatest friends, they had graduated together, despite Toomes being quite a few years Otto's senior. He didn't see that friendship continuing, not with how bitter Toomes had become as he grew older, without a single recognition to his name.
Toomes' shoulders slumped, defeated.
"Fine," Toomes said, "I'll go. But this is not the end of this Osborne. I promise you that."
The two guards grabbed Toomes by the arms, and began to march him towards the exit. Toomes shot one last, poisonous look over his shoulder, before he was pushed out the exit towards the reception.
"What a foolish little man," Osborne said, amused. The he noticed Otto stood behind him, and the smile faded.
"What are you doing Octavius? Get back to work," He snapped, "I don't pay you to stand around feeling sorry for yourself."
"Y- yes, yes Mr Osborne," Otto stammered, scuttling back to his work station. He was worried for his friend, or rather, his former friend. Adrian was a proud man, and now that pride has been slighted.
Please Adrian, Otto begged silently, Don't do anything stupid. Please.
Gwen stepped off the bus. The tall, stone archway to Midtown High stood before her. Students were already milling about, as friends greeted each other after the long summer. New faces mixed amongst the old and the familiar. Already, you could see the cliques begin to form. The sports team sat by the benches, the ever-present football jackets and cheerleaders uniforms all freshly washed and ready for another year of constant use. The oldest kids hung around by the gates, a group that clearly said to leave them the hell alone.
She knew the costume was well covered, but she couldn't help feeling nervous, more nervous in fact, than when she'd first joined this place. A paranoid little feeling niggled in the back of her mind that had made her check everything was okay nearly six times on the bus here. The people behind her must have thought she had a twitch.
"Hey Gwen, over here!" A familiar voice broke her train of thought. Peter's voice. She spotted them, stood in the middle of the courtyard by the fountain. Peter, Parker, the one who had called her, was waving, and their mutual best friend, Harry Osborne was with him. Peter was the same as he always was, with his tousled brown hair, and round glasses that didn't quite suit him. He was cute, in an awkward, clumsy kind of way. He had been Gwen's first friend back in Kindergarten. He lived with his Aunt and Uncle, as his parent had died when he was young. They were a close-knit, loving unit, and, although they never had much money, they always seemed happy to just have each other. Gwen had caught herself idly wondering what could have been if he had been bit by the spider, rather than her.
Harry was his Dad's spitting image, but where they may share the same face, they were polar opposites in personality. His dad was cold, confident and had a presence that owned a room when he entered. Harry on the other hand, was slight, nervous, and insecure, and so, unfortunately, was a constant disappointment to his father. But he was also kind to a fault, and had been a steadfast friend of both her and Peter for many years. He may not like himself sometimes, but Gwen wouldn't change him for the world.
She jogged over to them, beaming.
"Hey guys," she said, hugging them both tightly, "How you been?"
"I'm great," Peter replied, hugging her back.
"And you Harry," she asked, "How are you?"
"Oh I'm good," Harry said, shrugging, "You know me, same-old same-old."
Peter laughed, "Yeah, Harry Osborne, the one universal constant."
Harry grinned, and made a motion for them to sit by the fountain.
"How was your summer then you two?" He asked, plopping himself down on the stone rim, "Did you both enjoy summer camp?"
Peter glanced over at Gwen, who shrugged.
"I couldn't go," she said, "I got sick and had to stay home. Peter went though."
"Oh that blows," Harry said sympathetically, "So how was it Peter?"
"It was great!" He enthused, "There was so much to learn, and we got to see stuff from all sort of great scientist, Curt Connors, Micheal Mobius, and a whole bunch of people."
Harry shot Gwen a wry smile as Peter rambled on.
"It's your fault," she said, "You got him talking." Harry shrugged. They didn't mind really. Peter needed to break out of his shell at times, and getting him talking was one way to do it. Plus, it was adorable seeing him so enthusiastic about something.
"… I definitely want to go next year," Peter finished. Gwen realized she basically hadn't heard a word he said.
"That's great Pete," she said, smiling and hoping he wouldn't catch on.
"So, how was your summer Harry?" She added, moving on quickly.
Harry groaned, and put his face in his hands.
"I think my dad is the only person who can make a world tour drag. Turns out we were going on s world tour of all the worlds office buildings. You'll never guess what makes European offices different than American one's."
"I'll bite," said Peter, "What is it?"
"Nothing," said Harry flatly, "They're the exact same thing, just in Munich and not Manhattan. So my summer was a total bore fest. Can't believe I was actually glad for school to start."
At that moment, the bell rang. Most groups of people stopped talking and began to shuffle towards the school's front doors. A lone teacher stood in the open door, wearing a similarly glum expression to most of the students.
Harry stood, and grabbed his bag. Peter joined him, smoothing the creases from his own shirt.
"You coming?" He asked, turning and smiling.
She rose, readjusting the bag on her back, and pushing her glasses back up her nose, "Yeah, I'm coming."
"Hey," Peter started, his voice slow, as if just noticing something. Gwen froze. What's he seen? Is her costume poking out? Is he suspicious?
"Are those new glasses?" He asked, "They look different. Just a little."
Relief swept over her. Jeez, if she'd known she'd be this paranoid about the costume she'd have left the damn thing at home.
"So Pete," Harry said with a sly grin, giving him a gentle elbow in the ribs, "You still got a crush on Sally Avril?"
"Hey!" Peter said indignantly. Gwen's mouth dropped open.
"Sally?" She said in shock, "Really Pete?"
"What?" said a booming, snide voice from behind them, "Puny Parker's got a crush on Sally?"
"Oh no," Gwen groaned, "Flash..."
Flash Thompson, the poster boy for the jerkass jock, swaggered up to them. He bashed Harry out of the way with his shoulder, and stood before them, his arms folded. Unfortunately, he also hadn't changed a bit, and was evidently every bit the arrogant bully he had been last year. He picked on Gwen and Harry when given the chance, but he loved to single out Peter and try to make his school life hell.
"Does Puny Parker really think he has a chance with Sally? Is this a joke?" he guffawed. He waved his arm over at his group of friends, and they all sauntered over.
"Check it out guys," he sneered, "Parker thinks he has a chance. Newsflash genius: She's way out of his league."
The group burst into derisive laughter. Sally Avril, the head cheerleader, a girl with an ego to rival Flash's, retched.
"Parker?" she said, in her shrill, grating voice, "Eww. Gross! I don't want that nerd stuff anywhere near me."
Peter's head dropped, looking at the floor, and his hands curled into fists.
"Back off Flash," he muttered, "I'm not gonna take this from you this time."
"What was that little guy?" Flash said, cupping a hand around his ear and bending down, I couldn't hear you over the sound of you falling over."
"Wait, wh-" Pete started, but Flash interrupted him. He shoved a hand into Peter's chest, and Peter stumbled backwards. Kenny, unbeknownst to them all, had circled around behind them, and now stuck out his foot. Peter's feet caught Kenny's outstretched leg and he fell over backwards, ending up in a crumpled mess on the floor. Harry started forward, but one of Flash's goon-like friends grabbed hold, and twisted Harry into a headlock.
The group's laughter redoubled, Flash's deep, neighing guffaw clearly visible above everyone else.
"Alright, break it up." The teacher had come over, and was stood behind Flash with his arms folded. Flash's laughter stopped and he turned to face them.
"C'mon sir," Flash said, "We were just messing around. Isn't that right Parker?"
Peter, still sat on the ground, pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but said nothing.
"Flash," the teacher cautioned, rolling his eyes, "Just get inside. Don't make me give you detention on your first day back."
Flash sighed dramatically. The jock holding Harry released him, and Harry crumpled to the ground, breathless.
"Alright, c'mon guys." He beckoned for the rest of his group to follow, and they all trooped inside. The teacher watched them go with a resigned, weary glare. Gwen hurried over to Peter and help out a hand.
"You okay?" She asked, helping the boy to his feet.
"I think so."
Peter brushed himself down, and his eyes caught Gwen's. She gave him a sympathetic little smile, and he looked away. He looked so unhappy, and she thought she knew why. She had hoped things would be different this year too, that maybe people had changed as much as she had; that maybe people would have grown up.
"Hey Pete, don't let this get you down," Gwen said gently, "Flash is always gonna be an idiot. Don't let it get to you."
"Right," Peter said. He still looked miserable, and Gwen bumped him on the shoulder with her own.
"Plus Pete," she added, "This just shows you are way too good for Sally. If she's happy to do that to another person? I don't think she deserves someone like you."
A small smile twitched the corner of Peter's mouth.
"It's okay, don't mention it."
Harry's voice interrupted them, "Nope, don't worry guys. I'll just pick myself up."
They both look around around. Harry had pushed himself off the floor, and was on his knees.
"Oh, Harry," Gwen said, squatting down beside him, "Are you okay?"
"I'm.. I'm okay," he panted, "Just er- just gimme a minute."
Gwen took his elbow and gently lifted him to his feet. He stood, hands on his knees.
"Who knew," he said, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath, "Being head-locked really takes it outta you."
Gwen chuckled, "C'mon you two, let's get inside; we're gonna be late."
She led the pair inside, for their first real day back at Midtown High.
The sun beat down across the dockyard, as men hurried about, some wheeling pallets stacked high with various crates, others armed with clipboards or tools. Others still milled about in groups, flasks and lunches clasped in their hands, as they regaled each other with stories. It was a busy, lively place. Except for one, lonely abandoned warehouse, which stood apart from the others, at the far end of the yard. It was disheveled and dilapidated. The corrugated sheets that made up the walls were rusted and full of holes, most of them falling away, leaving the bare skeleton of the building open to the air. It had been there so long, the workers barely registered it any more.
Which is why, inside, a group of men were conducting a clandestine meeting. There were four of them. One of the men was dressed in a dark blue, pinstripe suit, which seemed to be stretching to bursting point across his wide, barrel-like chest. The others were a group of three mercenaries, known as the Enforcers. Elite soldiers for hire in the criminal underworld, they hadn't yet had a single failure to their name. The first of the men was huge, a good seven feet tall, and every bit as wide too. His arms were like giant tree trunks, and his hands were wide and powerful. His hair was short, but he had a trimmed handlebar mustache. His name was Ox. He was the teams muscle, a powerful brute with more than enough speed to match his brawn. The second of the men was smaller, leaner, and craftier. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but dark eyes peered out from the shadows, scouting the room constantly. His name, or the name he was given, was Fancy Dan, the team's scout. He was swift and silent, and could take out a target before they even knew he was there. And lastly, there was Montana, the Enforcer's leader. A crack shot, with the brains and pride to match. The Enforcers had risen to infamy under his watch, and he was sure that their legacy would not fall. He wore a loose fitting suit, and a pale white Stetson hat that hid his eyes.
The warehouse was mostly empty, save for a single briefcase, lying on a plain wooden table, with a single chair behind it. The man in the pinstripe suit, crossed to the table in two strides, and sat behind it, motioning for the Enforcers to stand opposite him. They complied, and, when they were together, the man flipped open the briefcase. A screen flickered on inside, and shadowy figure appeared on the screen.
"Greetings Enforcers. I am the Big Man," the figure said. It's voice was deep and gravelly, and commanded a sense of calm power. It was a voice that demanded you listen, and listen well.
"As of four months ago, a 'problem' has arisen that has disrupted my operations. A pest you could say."
The Enforcers looked at one another, but said nothing.
"At first the report seemed unbelievable," the voice continued, "I simply believed my men had invented a boogie-man to cover for their own incompetence. It was erratic, and it took great effort, and expense, to pin it down. But now, we have real confirmation. There's a Spider in town."
The besuited man withdrew and envelope from his jacket, and handed it to Montana. He flipped it open, and withdrew the papers inside. First and foremost, was a large, full page print out of Spider-Woman. Montana raised an eyebrow.
"So, she's real," he muttered, in a thick southern drawl.
"Yes Montana," the Big Man imparted, "In that envelope you will all we know about this 'Spider-woman'. Frequented movement, known powers, and known weaknesses."
"And you want us to wrangle up your little Spider, right?" Montana asked.
"No Montana, the spider, and the world, needs to learn that I am not to be messed with. I want you to put an end to this Spider problem for me. Permanently."
Well. I guess this is it, my first chapter out into the world. Firstly, I hope there aren't too many typos in this, I did my best to catch them all, but I probably did miss some, feel free to point them out to me in reviews and I'll fix them. This chapter was meant to be very similar to the first episode of Spectacular Spidey, I promise I'll get into more divergent stuff later, but I kinda wanted this first chapter to be familiar so that the differences are apparent. I hope that makes sense. s:
I hope you enjoyed, I'll have the next chapter out ASAP c:
PS I've gone back re-edited this chapter a lil bit so that it flows better, and is better structured.