New Year, New Beginnings

...Must Also Come Great Responsibility

"Hey Uncle Ben, can you give me a lift to the library?" asked Peter, slinging his backpack over his shoulders and sliding on some fingerless gloves.

He'd watched a few videos to get a basic idea of fighting techniques, although he was planning on relying more on his enhanced skills.

Ben looked at his nephew. "Alright. What time are you going to be back by?"

Hesitating, the brunette wondered how to answer the question. "Ummm...I'm not completely sure, I've got a lot of work. I can text you when I'm ready to go home though."

Peter was a good kid, no doubt. It was one of the reasons that practically everyone trusted him to do the right thing. He felt a little guilty for lying, but covered it up by remembering that it was so that he could help out with the money troubles.

Ben dropped Peter off at the library. Quickly, the teenager ducked behind the library until he'd seen his uncle drive away.

Then, he walked clandestinely towards the address on the flyer, and after a few minutes, found himself in a makeshift wrestling "arena," with crowds of people surrounding the ring. A burly man, who Peter recognized as the Crusher from the poster, lifted his opponent into the air, and threw him across the room. Everyone cheered loudly.

The Crusher let out a victory yell. "WHO'S NEXT? ARE ALL OF YOU SO WEAK AS TO FALL TO THE CRUSHER?"

Peter slipped on his mask, and backflipped into the ring. "Hey big guy, didn't you ever learn not to talk about yourself in third person? It's borderline bad grammar."

The man in question sneered at him. "You think you can defeat me?"

The brunette stepped fully into the light, and swallowing his nerves, he just grinned and said, "Yep."

The Crusher charged him, but the teenager leapt out of the way, causing said man to crash into the metal bar around the ring. The entire crowd screamed with anticipation.

The burly wrestler let out a roar of fury, drawing a fist back, attempting to punch him, but Peter continued dodging, and finally landed a solid whack on the man's jaw. The resulting THWACK echoed throughout the arena. The Crusher slumped on the mat.

There was dead silence. Then, everyone began to cheer.

Peter, who had been so used to being called less than unsavoury names throughout his life, beamed with pride under his mask.

A man wearing a black business suit, the organizer of the whole tournament, pushed his way to the front of the crowd and handed the teenager an envelope. When he peeked inside, he gaped at the three crisp $100 bills. "I've never seen anything like it! Come here again tomorrow, and I'll pay you twice as much!"

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, business-guy lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't go spreading the news to everyone though , alright. We don't want the authorities knowing about this, since it's technically not...you know."

Peter was only able to nod as he was escorted by two bouncers back outside. He ogled the cash in his hand. This underground wrestling arena wasn't technically legal...but it wasn't as bad as, say, drug dealing. Still, he had remained anonymous the entire time, so there was no way anyone could possibly know his secret identity. He slowly trudged back to the library, pulling off his mask as he did so, lost in thought.

He immediately felt his heart sink when he saw Uncle Ben's car in the parking lot.

The weird feeling in the back of his head flared, and he whirled around. Ben was standing there with an unreadable expression on his face.