Marvel: The Spider-Grind

Peter woke up with a jolt, feeling like a live wire. His entire body buzzed with energy, his muscles tingling with newfound strength. It felt as if he'd been injected with pure adrenaline, his senses sharper than ever.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, but the moment his hand touched the bedsheet, it clung to his palm. His fingers stuck like glue, and when he tried to pull it off, the fabric ripped. Peter froze, staring at the shredded sheet in shock.

What the heck?

His heart raced as realization dawned on him. The spider bite. It had worked. The radioactive DNA had done its job, and his body was... different.

Peter stood up and stretched, feeling the raw power coursing through his veins. His movements felt effortless, his muscles stronger, more precise. He clenched his fist, and the faint creak of tightening knuckles filled the room.

This... this is insane. But I can't just sit around. I need to figure out how far this goes.

Peter took a deep breath, and his rapid adaptability kicked in. Within moments, he could control the overwhelming strength in his fingers. The stickiness faded, and his grip returned to normal.

An hour later, Peter found himself standing at the edge of an abandoned scrapyard on the outskirts of Queens. It was the perfect place to test his abilities without anyone noticing.

He stepped onto the uneven ground, his heart pounding with excitement and nervousness. Piles of rusted metal and discarded machinery surrounded him.

Peter approached a large chunk of scrap, a twisted mass of old pipes and metal beams. He bent down and wrapped his hands around it, gripping tightly.

Alright, let's see what I've got.

With a grunt, he lifted the metal. It came off the ground easily, almost too easily. Peter's eyes widened as he hoisted it over his head like it was made of cardboard.

This must weigh at least a few tons. How is this even possible?

He moved on to heavier weights, by adding car frames and massive steel girders. Each time, his body adapted to the challenge. By the time he reached his limit, he had lifted close to 18 tons.

But something inside him wasn't satisfied. His adaptability kicked in again, and he felt his muscles adjust, becoming more efficient. He bent down to try again, and this time, he managed to lift 20 tons.

Peter dropped the metal and stood there, panting but exhilarated.

This is insane. I'm stronger than the Spider-Man from the comics. I need to test everything.

Peter decided to test his speed next. He found a clear path in the scrapyard and took off running. The world blurred around him as his legs carried him at incredible speeds.

He glanced at the timer on his phone, estimated the approximate distance he ran and calculated his speed.

70 miles per hour? That's fast, but let's push it further.

He grabbed a chunk of metal weighing a few tons and started running again. The added weight slowed him at first, but his adaptability kicked in, and within minutes, he was back up to 80 miles per hour.

Peter came to a stop, his chest heaving, a grin spreading across his face.

I'm not just stronger. I'm faster too. But what else can I do?

As he explored more of the scrapyard, Peter accidentally scraped his arm against a sharp piece of metal. He winced, looking down at the cut. Blood welled up, but before he could even react, the wound began to close.

Within minutes, it was completely healed.

Enhanced regeneration? That's new. This just keeps getting better.

He decided to test his agility and reflexes next. Climbing a nearby stack of old cars, he found that his hands and feet stuck to the surfaces effortlessly. He scaled the stack like a spider, reaching the top in seconds.

From there, he spotted a nearby building at the edge of the scrapyard. Without hesitation, he leapt.

The air rushed past him as he soared through the gap, landing gracefully on the opposite building. He glanced back at the car stack falling at the opposite direction with a loud noice, estimating the distance.

50, maybe 55 meters. Not bad. Let's see how high I can jump. I guess it's time to get Outta here!

Peter crouched, gathering his strength, and launched himself straight up. He soared into the air, reaching a height of about 25 meters before landing smoothly.

By the time Peter returned home, it was nearly lunchtime. He walked through the door, his heart still racing with excitement.

Aunt May looked up from the kitchen and smiled. "You're in a good mood today, Peter. What's gotten into you?"

Peter grinned, his mind racing for an excuse. "I'm just happy I get to share lunch with the most beautiful lady I know."

Aunt May laughed and waved him off. "Oh, stop it, you charmer. Go wash up, and help me set the table."

After lunch, Peter did the dishes, chatting with Aunt May about her day.

Back in his room, Peter pulled out his notebook and began sketching ideas for a web shooter.

If I'm going to be Spider-Man, I need web shooters. No webs, no Spider-Man.

He spent the next few hours refining the formula for the web fluid, drawing from the knowledge he had absorbed during his study session. With his adaptability, the process felt almost natural, like piecing together a puzzle he already knew the solution to.

He scavenged the basement for parts—old pumps, valves, and tubing from Uncle Ben's old tools. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

This will work. I just need more materials.

Peter checked his savings and frowned. His pocket money wasn't nearly enough to buy the things he needed.

I need a job. A part-time gig would solve everything.

As he scrolled through job postings online, one caught his eye.

"Assistant Needed: Oscorp Labs. Apply now!"

The ad was posted for Dr. Connors.

Peter's heart leapt. This was perfect. Not only could he earn money, but he could also keep an eye on Connors and Oscorp's other projects.

He called the reception desk, but the response was disappointing.

"Sorry, but we don't hire high school students for sensitive positions."

Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair.

No plot armor for me, huh?

But then he remembered Harry. If Norman Osborn was home, Harry might be his way into Oscorp.

Peter quickly texted Harry: Hey, any chance I could meet your dad? I'm interested in th new part time assistant for Dr.Connors at Oscorp.

As Harry replied with a thumbs-up emoji, Peter grabbed his jacket and called out to Aunt May. "I'm heading out for a bit. Don't wait up for me!"

He dashed out the door, hoping to catch the next bus in time.

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