Resilience | Marvel

Chapter 1

A/N: This is a longer story, centering on Peter Parker, I am in the long process of going back and edited a lot of things to make them less cringy. 

The clock slowly counted down the minutes until school ended. Peter eagerly waited for the bell to ring. He tapped his pencil impatiently. After a few more minutes of listening to his teacher talk forever about hyperboles. The bell finally gave a high pitched ring, the frequency caused the boy to instinctually cover his ears. Before anybody else had even packed up, Peter was out the door, sliding down the handrail of the front steps.  He traveled a few blocks before turning off the main street and into an alley sandwiched between two low apartment buildings. He placed his backpack on the ground and pulled out the red and blue suit kept hidden in the bottom. He slipped it on, pulling the mask over his face. 

He cracked his fingers and neck eagerly, preparing his muscles for another strenuous day as Spider-Man. He climbed up the wall of one of the buildings, to the roof, and looked out at the city, wondering which direction to go first. For the first few hours, nothing particularly interesting happened until the sun disappeared and the day became night, Peter was perched on a rooftop, waiting for someone to need help, some cops cars to race past, a scream, something. After a period of quiet, he finally got what he was waiting for. A piercing, desperate, scream erupted from a side street, only a block or two away. Peter jumped into action, he quietly landed on top of a cafe. 

He came to the edge and was able to see three men brandishing knives, they were pointed in the direction of a young blonde woman in a waitress' smock, she was crying and backed against a wall. She lunged her arms at the man closest to her, who seemed to be the leader, swinging and scratching at him, she tried to defend herself. He was much larger, though. And he slammed her up against the wall. 

"You little bitch!" He growled viciously. He was about to cut her, when the blade was snatched out of his hands and clattered to the cement. He turned around to find his two friends pinned against the wall with web, struggling to move. Horrified, he turned further around. 

Spider-Man was leaning against a brick wall, his arms were crossed, he hummed as he stepped forward from the wall. The bearded man, scared, jumped towards the teenager. Spidey easily stepped out of the way and the man was sent tumbling to the ground. The man gathered himself and stood up. Spider-Man walked forward towards the guy, who threw a weak punch. 

"That wasn't very nice, now apologize to the lady." Spidey's hands were clamped tight around the man's shoulders. He squeezed the man, causing him to wince in pain, he loosened his grip and turned him sharply towards the woman. 

"M' sorry." He looked shamefully to the ground.

"I meant me, I'm very sensitive." Spidey joked, putting his hand on his chest, mocking being offended in a sincere manner.

"Just kidding, get outta here." Spidey patted his back and let the man loose, who scampered away, managing to escape only a few feet before a web suddenly wrapped itself tightly around his feet, dragging him back and up the wall. 

The man screamed as he came to the realization that he was dangling thirty feet off the ground. The woman fled from the scene. Peter, feeling confident that everything had been dealt with and they wouldn't be bothering anyone else, leaped off to help the next person in danger.

Later, Peter again found himself seated on a rooftop, eating a mustard-coated hot dog. His eyes were focused on one thing, The Avengers Tower. The huge, neon blue "A" was shining brilliantly above the city. Most of the inside floors were dark, Peter wondered what the Avengers were doing. Were they were asleep in there? Did Thor or Hulk even sleep? Or maybe they were somewhere else entirely.

A lot of people on the news lately had taken to calling him a "Hero", but no... he thought. Those guys up there are the real heroes. The most I do to help is stop a few muggers and carjackers.

As he finished his hot dog, he noticed the time was 2 am, he almost choked on the last bite. He jumped off the ledge, his webbing catching a building. He whipped through the air. The breeze biting at his face, it always made him feel weightless. He swung past the alleyway where his backpack was waiting. He swung down and grabbed it. 

He arrived at his apartment building, he crawled silently. He unlatched his creaky old window with caution, sliding the panel down. He crawled onto his ceiling. He then breathed a sigh of relief, dropping down onto the ground. He stealthily closed the door and unzipped the suit. He climbed into bed, exhausted. The worst of his wounds, a bruise on his brow-bone, would be healed by morning.