Hi…this is my first fanfic.  Please read and review. 

I don't own Spider-Man, or Mary Jane and all those people that we know belong to Marvel and maybe partially Sony Pictures…I wish I did, and I would like to someday…but for now I'll just write about them.  Sigh…oh well, here you go.  I'll go work on a way to buy his copyrights, and maybe in Chapter 2 I will own him and all of his hotness.  I can dream, can't I?

"…back to WPYX, New York's finest radio-news station.  Don Sanders here, with…"

'Ugh,'  thought Peter as he rubbed his eyes and yawned.  'No way…5:00 already? And just two precious hours left before work…' And with that, he rolled over in an attempt to fall back asleep.

"…weekend weather forecast on the way.  With me now is Mr. J. Jonah Jameson, chief editor of the Daily Bugle, with a special report.  Mr. Jameson?"

"People of New York: I have just been told, by very reliable sources, that our very own local 'superhero', Spider-Man, has been seen breaking and entering the Chase Manhattan Bank located on…"

Peter couldn't help but wonder why his boss had spit out the words 'Spider-Man' with such hate and contempt – but then the end of Mr. Jameson's report finally registered in his groggy brain, and he sat upright, with a dumbfounded look upon his face.  "Uh, the last time I checked, I was Spider-Man", he said to himself quietly, but aloud.  He immediately regretted it after noticing his bedroom door was open.  Slipping into shorts and a T-shirt, he walked down the hall of his apartment, silently hoping that no one was around. He found a note from Harry – "Pete: I went to the mansion to clean out some of my father's old stuff.  See you for lunch?  Harry" – and flipped on the news to make sure he had heard the radio right.  After all, he had been half asleep, right?

Several minutes later, after learning he had heard right, Peter was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, the TV remote in his hand.  His hair was tousled, and his shirt wrinkled.  He was staring blankly out the window, in the direction of the bank.  In the distance, he could hear sirens.  'I don't understand.  How can I be here and robbing a bank at the same time!?  Well, its time to let the real Spider-Man find out who, or what, is behind this.  Oh man, do I even want to know?!'  He jumped up and ran to his room, stripping himself of his clothes on the way.  As he lifted the spandex suit from its hiding place inside his pillowcase, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  He still could not believe the changes that he had went through since the first day after the spider bite.  His body was now muscular, perfect from every angle.  He had 20/20 vision, no glasses needed.  He could shoot webbing from his wrists and stick to walls.  And these were things that he did almost instinctively everyday of every week, taking no notice to them and accepting them as normal.  He took one final look in the mirror before transforming into Spider-Man.  Then, he was swinging above the streets of New York.


'I'd better not let the boys in blue see me,' thought Spider-Man as he swung towards the bank.  'They'd probably shoot me – they think I've turned criminal.  I'd shoot me too!'   Instead of going straight towards the 23-story building, he made a sharp left. 'It'd probably be easier to make a back entrance: That way, no one will know I'm here.'  He landed on top of the building and crouched behind what looked to be an air conditioning system.  As of yet, there were no news station helicopters in the skies above, but that was likely to change.  'I'll have to be inside before they get here, or they could spot me.'  Just then, he noticed the outline of a door on the side of the air conditioner.  Peeking inside, he realized it was actually a freight elevator, probably used to ship large amounts of money from safe to safe inside the bank. 

"Well, hello, opportunity,"  said Spidey as he grinned behind his mask.  He entered through the double doors and pushed the button for floor 23.  'If I go down too low, I'll probably end up passing whoever it is that's framing me and take the chance of him hearing the elevator.  He'd know someone was inside the building…I'll just take my own way down.'  He slid the doors open with relative ease and jumped out into the shaft.  With a flick of his wrist, he was hanging from the floor of the elevator car by a few feet of  white, sticky, web line.  It was a long drop to the floor – bearing in mind the fact that there were also many sub-floors along with the 22 below him now – but that did not stop Spidey.  He sent out another line of webbing and within milliseconds was sticking to the wall. 

All of a sudden, Spidey felt a tingle at the base of his neck.  SCRREEECH!  The doors to the elevator about nine, maybe ten floors down were being pulled open slowly.  A man in his mid-forties with a balding head and glasses was being held over the shaft, wriggling like a newborn puppy. Spidey could see the fear in his eyes, and see the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.  Before reacting, Spidey caught the end of a threat.  "…the bag.  Yes, all of it!  Do it now or I drop him!" 

THWIP!  The arm that belonged to the familiar but unrecognized voice was covered in web and pulled, and the rest of the body was now visible.  It was Spider-Man!  'Well, with a hideous costume and bad manners,' thought Spidey.  Just as he pulled the imposter out into the shaft, the hand around the victims neck was loosened and the man fell.  "Help! Aughhhhhhhhhgh!!!" 

"Hold on!"  'How could I have been so dumb!?'

The imposter arched his head up, ignoring that fact that he had let a man to fall to his death.  "What's this?  Did Spider-Man come out to play?"

Spidey paid him no mind, and was intent on saving the falling, screaming man. He released his grip on the wall and fell through the shaft after the man.  Web streamed out of his wrists as he tried desperately to catch the victim.  Down he fell, faster and faster, but he had lost sight of his target.  He shot his web up to the ceiling to suspend himself and attempted one last time to catch the now invisible - and probably dead - man.

THUD.  Spidey gasped as he was thrown against the wall, trapped by…webbing!?  'But, how…where…WHAT!? How can he throw webs!?'

"You will no longer be a hero, Spider-Man!  All glory shall be erased from your soul, and you will be looked upon as a menace, a criminal, a villain!  Now, die… as you have deserved to for so long!"  The slender, red-gloved fingers reached inside, followed by the rest of the body.  The doors slowly slid shut.  Spidey could hear the mechanics of the elevator start up, and realized that he had to get out.   He had to leave, figure out what to do, and come back.  There was no way he could save all the hostages inside right now, and he wanted to look for the fallen victim below.  If he couldn't save him, he could at least give him the respect he deserved, and return him to his family.  'The respect he deserves?  He didn't deserve to die in the first place!  It was my carelessness that killed the poor man, and god knows I should have been able to save him!'  But that would wait for now – Spidey became preoccupied with the strident elevator slowly coming lower and lower, closer and closer to crushing him against the cold, hard wall.  Mourning would have to come later. 


Spider-Man was totally and completely lost on this.  He had gotten out of the elevator shaft, luckily, but left the bank after seeing his imposter had fled with the money.  He decided it would be safer to leave the area and think about what he was going to do instead of hunting down his newest enemy.  He casually swung from building to building, trying to make sense out of what had just happened.  'OK – I have obviously been framed.  But by who?  And why?'  It had been just two months since the death of the Green Goblin, aka Norman Osborne, Harry's father.  Since then, Spidey had been fighting crime as usual, but nothing as extreme as this.  He could see this was going to be tough. 

As he rounded the final corner half a block from his apartment, Spider-Man again felt his spider-sense go off.  'Geez, why is it, every time I try to…'  He stopped mid-thought as he jumped onto the nearest roof.  Looking around for the source of his alarm and finding no one, he figured it was a fluke.  'I guess I'm just so confused about this that I'm imagining my spider-sense!'  He jumped off the roof and continued to his apartment window.  Instead of going right in, he sat on the ledge above and looked out over the city.  In the distance he could see Central Park; the trees and green grass reminded him of Norman Osborne's funeral, and lying to Mary Jane.  He could hear her words in his memory as if she were right there beside him, speaking them aloud.

 "I love you Pete.  Oh, I love you so much!"

He could feel her body pressed against his, as he tried his hardest to not reply the way he so badly wanted too.  "I promise you, I will always be there for you.  I will always be…your friend." 

"Only a friend, Peter Parker?" 

"That's all I have to give." 

'What a bunch of crap.'  Peter began once more to hate Spider-Man for all the pain he put him through.  Since the fourth grade Peter had loved M.J., and now that she finally felt the same way, he could not let himself love her.  It would be too risky. 

BANG!  Peter was distracted from his thoughts as he returned to the life of Spider-Man. A gun had just been shot, and he could smell the smoke coming from somewhere behind him.  Figuring a mugging, he raced to the edge of the apartment roof to save the victim.  But he saw no one. 

THWIP!  Spidey was stuck to the wall, looking around the alley beneath him.  His spider-sense was tingling, and this time he had no doubt it was real.  He held a hand to the base of his neck, trying to stop the tickling sensation.  He almost wanted to laugh, it was so strong… 'I guess I wasn't imagining it, after all.'

BANG! BANG!  The gun went off again, twice, and much louder this time.  Before he knew what was happening, Spidey was falling towards the muddy puddles below.  His hands instinctively shot out webs to each side of him, balancing himself in the air like and acrobat would at a circus.  He felt two jabs of pain: one in the right side of his lower back, about where his kidneys would be, and another in his left shoulder blade.  The pain was so agonizing that his left arm went limp, and he continued his fall. 

CRASH!  "UGH!"  The lower half of his body landed on a pile of trash cans, and his shoulders and head were thrown against the top of a dumpster.  A strand of webbing attached itself to the wall, pulling the spider onto his feet.  He turned to find the source of his spider-sense.   "Ouch, jeez, ow!"  It really did hurt; he wasn't just whining. 'Sure, it'd probably hurt a normal human a wee bit more…but pain is pain.  And I'm far from normal.  Fortunately.'   

A voice came from the left, past the corner of the apartment building.  There stood a young man, a teenager really, with an inquisitive look upon his face.  In his right hand was a silver pistol, reflecting the sun above and blinding Spidey.  "Why?" he asked as he lifted the gun and aimed at Spidey's face. 

"You shot me!"  Spider-Man was, to say the least, a bit angry. 'This is unbelievable!  He actually shot me!  Twice!  Ok, maybe I shouldn't daydream out in the open…but do I really deserve this?'

"I asked you a question, god damnit!"  The kid took a haughty step towards the wall crawler.  "Answer me!"  .

"But…you SHOT me!"

"Yeah.  We've established that.  Why did you kill him!?  You're supposed to be a hero…hero's don't kill.  They save."  The guy had a look of doubt in his eyes.  "I never thought you'd do it.  I knew the opportunity was there; amazing powers could easily equal amazing amounts of money and power.  But you seemed like you knew what you were doing.  You just wanted to help New York."  He lowered the gun, and looked into Spidey's mask.  "But I heard the news.  You dropped him."

Spider-Man felt a chill go down his spine.  The kid's gaze was so intense, it was as if he were looking through the mask.  He took a step forward, wincing in pain, glad his face was covered to hide the sensation.  "I…I didn't.  It wasn't me."  The young mans eyebrows went up.  He was skeptical.  'As well he should be…'  "Look, I know it sounds weird Mr. -- "

"They call me Jeb."

"Mr. Jeb.  But I really --"

The kid shook his head, rolling his eyes as though Spider-Man were stupid. "Just Jeb."

Spidey was beginning to become frustrated.  'Does he want to hear this or not!?'  "Ok.  Jeb.  Just listen!"

"No, YOU listen.  He was my father.  He was a good, honest man.  He had no reason to die!"  Jeb brought the gun back up, pointing it at Spidey's chest like an accusing finger.  Spidey immediately brought his hands up, aiming his webbing to pull the gun out of Jeb's shaking hands.

BANG!  An unusually loud sound.  The noise echoed in Spidey's ears before he realized he'd been shot in the chest. He noticed webbing on the gun's trigger.  'Not only does Jeb shoot me twice, but I also manage to shoot myself.  What a great day this is turning out to be.'  Blood began gushing out, covering himself and the unpaved road.  Jeb stood above him, hand over his mouth, body shaking.  He stood, horrified, for only a few seconds before he took off down the alley.  'That's right Jeb, run and get help!  Like Lassie!'  He laughed at his own crack.  'People never cease to amaze me.'

A jolt of throbbing stopped his laugh. Spidey slowly, painfully, raised his right arm and shot a web to the top of the building.  It stuck, but now what?  He tried pulling himself up, but found that moving his arms brought an intolerable sting to his chest.  There was no way he could pull himself up.  He allowed it to break off and fall to the ground.  He was quickly losing both blood and consciousness. As he began to black out, thoughts of M.J. raced through his head.  "Need…M.J…" He began to feel out of breath, and felt as though he was going to die, right there and then.   He stopped trying to hold his head up and let it fall.  He was sprawled on the ground, his head against the wall, facing his apartment.  He could see his bedroom window above, and wished he had went in when he'd had the chance.  But it was too late for that.  Spidey closed his eyes, and let his mind stop working.  His body began to shut down.  His mind went blank, and his breathing ceased.