Spider-X: A Spider-Man Story

Chapter 1: New York

Earth-399999

"You've gotta do better than that, slowpoke!" Peter yells as he dodges a bolt of electricity. It's just sad how many times Electro misses him; he's getting bored.

"Hold still, insect!" Electro shouts at Spider-Man from down below.

The superhero flips down from the side of the building and sweeps a leg under Electro's, hearing a satisfying thud as he hits the pavement. Spider-Man bends down and wags a finger in his face.

"You didn't ask nicely, Electro. I thought we'd talked about this."

"You talk too much," he grumbles and tries to hit Peter again, but Peter webs his hands and delivers a swift punch to the temple, effectively knocking him out. Spider-Man shakes his head at Electro's limp form as he props him up against the side of the building and webs him to it. It was like just because this guy has blasters he thinks he has to keep trying to kill Spider-Man. Trying is the key word. He's pretty lousy at it.

Peter checks his watch and sees that it's 7:45. Shit, he thinks and jumps off the ground and swings to an empty rooftop to change. He drops down in the alleyway outside Sal's Pizza and hurries inside.

"You're late, Parker!" Jax yells from behind the counter, "it's a good thing Sal isn't in yet."

Peter checks his watch, 8:01. Barely late. A new record, actually. "Sorry," Peter offers, tying his apron around his waist, "what can I help with?"

"There's a pile of dirty pans in the sink and we need inventory of all the meats in the freezer," Jax answers without looking up from counting the money in the cash register.

"Got it." Peter jogs to the back and starts on the dirty dishes. Sal's isn't the most glamorous job in the world, but it's $15/hr and gives Peter enough flexibility to be Spider-Man. Ever since the world forgot Peter Parker, life has been hard. Especially where it came to money. Peter is on his own now. No Aunt May, no Tony Stark, no help of any kind. He works as many hours as he can at the pizzeria, and when he can't make rent, he sells photos of Spider-Man to the Daily Bugle. It makes his skin crawl but they're the only website paying for photos not from a professional photographer.

If only Happy could see him now, actively helping the man who slanders Spider-Men across the Internet. But he's too broke to turn down the cash.

Peter finishes the inventory and heads to the kitchen to start washing the pans. Jax stops him, extending a sandwich. Peter looks at him, the question in his eyes.

"Take it," Jax says, "it's a day old and you look like you need it, kid."

"Thank you," Peter says gratefully.

Jax shrugs, "I put the rest of the day old stuff in a to-go bag under the counter for after your shift. But don't tell Sal." Then he walks out to the counter to get the tables ready for the day.

Peter unwraps the sandwich, and after making sure he's alone, scarfs it down. The sandwich is no Delmar's, but it's good. He's starving and doesn't have time, or money really, for breakfast most days. His hunger satiated, he turns his attention to the dirty dishes.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. His police alert, something's happening downtown. Multiple units called over the radar. His phone buzzes again, this time an alert from CNN. It shows live footage of a reporter in the middle of the city, yelling into the camera as chaos erupts around her. Lampposts bend or melt, the streets coming apart, and the bricks of the buildings coming undone, floating into the air.

"Pete, Sal called and said to lock up the shop as best we can! Something about downtown!" Jax yells, already locking the doors and placing tables in front of them, "you going to be okay getting home?"