DC: Spider Man

The city was alive at night, its neon lights flickering over the wet pavement as cars rushed by and distant sirens wailed through the streets. Peter Parker adjusted his backpack, letting out a tired sigh as he walked home from his shift at the gas station. The air smelled like a mixture of street food, car exhaust, and the occasional whiff of garbage from overflowing bins. It was nothing new—just another night in New York City.

His body was sore from standing behind the counter all evening, scanning items and dealing with impatient customers. He was exhausted, but as he passed a dimly lit alleyway, something strange caught his attention—a faint, glitching sound, like static crackling in the air.

Peter stopped in his tracks, peering into the darkness. His curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously stepped into the alley. The walls were lined with graffiti, and a single flickering streetlamp barely illuminated the area. That's when he saw it.

A spider.

But not just any spider—it was glowing faintly, its body flickering in and out of focus like it wasn't entirely part of this reality. Peter furrowed his brows, stepping closer, mesmerized by the strange sight. Before he could react, the spider suddenly disappeared—blinked out of existence.

"What the—"

A sharp sting in his neck made him jerk back. He instinctively slapped the spot, wincing. His fingers brushed over something small and delicate. Pulling his hand back, he saw the same glitching spider lying dead in his palm.

Peter's heartbeat quickened as he watched the tiny creature flicker once more before vanishing completely.

He stared at his empty palm, a chill running down his spine. "Okay… that was weird."

Shaking his head, he shrugged it off and continued his walk home.

Once inside his small apartment, Peter dropped his bag by the door and made his way to the kitchen. He was starving. He quickly threw together some grilled chicken and rice, eating absentmindedly while scrolling through his phone.

Halfway through his meal, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and his skin felt like it was on fire. His vision blurred for a moment, and he gripped the edge of the table, taking deep breaths.

"What the hell…" he muttered, rubbing his temples. His body ached all over, every muscle screaming in protest.

Deciding he just needed rest, Peter stumbled to his room, collapsing onto his bed. The second his head hit the pillow, darkness took over.

Sunlight streamed through the window, pulling Peter from his sleep. His body felt… different. Lighter. Stronger. As he groggily got out of bed and stretched, he realized something was off.

His aches from the night before were gone.

Actually, everything felt… amazing.

Shrugging it off, he walked to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He turned on the shower, stepping under the hot water and letting it wake him up fully. After a few minutes, he grabbed a towel and stepped out, still groggy.

Then he looked in the mirror.

Peter froze.

His reflection wasn't his own—at least, not the version he was used to.

His once-skinny frame was now lean and muscular. His abs, which had been non-existent before, were now incredibly defined. His arms had gained more tone, and even his face looked sharper, more refined.

"What the hell…"

He ran a hand over his chest, feeling the firm muscle. This didn't make sense. He hadn't worked out a day in his life.

Still in shock, he leaned forward, placing his hands on the sink. That's when things got even weirder.

His palms stuck.

Peter tried to lift his hands, but they wouldn't budge, like they were glued to the porcelain. He yanked harder, and before he knew it—

CRACK!

The entire sink ripped out of the wall.

Peter stumbled back, wide-eyed, holding the broken sink in his hands.

"Okay. What the actual hell?"

His mind raced as he processed what just happened. His body. His strength. His hands sticking to things.

He needed answers.

And he knew exactly who to call.

A sharp knock at the door made Peter jump. He rushed over, hesitating for a moment before pulling it open—maybe a little too easily.

Johnny Storm stood there, raising an eyebrow as Peter stepped aside to let him in.

Johnny took one look at him, then at the broken sink still lying on the floor. "Okay. What the hell is going on?"

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just… sit down. I need to show you something."

Johnny crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. "Alright, go for it."

Peter took a deep breath, then—

He jumped.

And stuck to the ceiling.

Johnny's eyes went wide. "Holy shi—"

"Language!" Peter cut him off, dropping back down onto the floor.

Johnny grabbed him by the shoulders, staring at him like he had grown a second head. "Dude. Explain."

Peter took a seat and told him everything—the glitching spider, the bite, the sickness, and waking up completely changed.

When he finished, Johnny leaned back on the couch, deep in thought. Then, suddenly, his face lit up.

"You have superpowers now!" He jumped to his feet, grinning. "Dude, you can be like Superman! Or Batman! Or—wait, no, you don't have money like Batman—but still!"

Peter couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah… I guess I can."

Johnny pointed at him. "We need to test this. Train you. I know a place—a warehouse where we won't get caught."

Peter smirked. "Alright. Let's do it."

They shared their signature handshake before heading out.

The warehouse was empty, the perfect place to test Peter's new abilities. Johnny set up a camera on a tripod, grinning when Peter raised an eyebrow.

"It's for the future. So our kids and grandkids know that their uncle Johnny was there at the beginning of Spider-Man."

Peter shook his head with a laugh but played along.

"Alright," Johnny clapped his hands together. "Let's start with strength. Pick up that metal beam over there."

Peter walked over, gripping the steel beam. Taking a deep breath, he lifted it with ease, twirling it a little before tossing it in the air and catching it.

Johnny's jaw dropped. "Okay, show-off."

Next was speed. Peter ran across the warehouse at incredible speed—not Superman or Flash levels, but way beyond a normal human.

His agility was tested next. With a single jump, he touched the ceiling, sticking for a moment before flipping back down.

After some trial and error, he managed to control his sticking ability. But one thing was missing.

"I can't shoot webs," Peter noted.

Johnny shrugged. "So? Not like anyone else does."

Peter smirked. "Yeah… but I can make them."

With his scientific mind at work, Peter quickly devised a web-fluid formula and built web-shooters from spare parts.

By the end of the night, he had something new—something powerful.

Back at Johnny's apartment, they brainstormed a suit.

Johnny rummaged through Peter's closet. "Where is it… Ah! Found it!"

He pulled out a red and blue fabric.

"This is your suit. For now."

After some quick stitching, they added a black spider emblem to the chest.

Peter stood in front of the mirror, admiring his new look.

Johnny smirked. "Alright, hero. What's your name?"

Peter thought for a moment, then grinned.

"The Amazing Spider-Man."

And with that, his journey began.