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Okay. Some said I should make another story. 

Some didn't. 

Some didn't say anything about it. 

Here's a prologue, if you like it, I'll continue. If you don't I'll delete this. 



New York City

Dark alleyway were only idiots go 

10:23 P.M. 

The water dripped and echoed. The faint clicks of heels echoed along with the rhythm of the water. 

A women, (<-- The idiot)in her late twenties, was walking in an alleyway. She'd done it many times before, this time shouldn't be any different. It was her shortcut. Nobody else used her shortcuts.They'd say,

"You're crazy,"


"One of these days, you'll get mugged. Or even worse. Don't push you're luck, kid,"

She'd never listened. 

 Her long black hair swayed with the rhythm of her walking. There was a small bang of something falling on the floor. She stopped. She turned heel, looking behind her with a curious gaze. Nobody was there. She shrugged it off. An alley cat. Once she looked in front of her, she saw a man about a foot taller than her with a back hoodie on.  

"Give me the purse, lady," he said, his voice rough and edgy. He pulled out a small pocket-knife. The women breathed in deep; stepping back slowly. She took small, shaky steps. 

"I said give me the damn purse!" He yelled at her. She shook her head stubbornly. He shook his head slightly. Before she could turn and sprint, he lunged at her, knife in hand. 

She screamed, closing her eyes. Waiting to be stabbed to death. 

She didn't. 

The only thing that she heard was a thwip and a yell. 

She turned her gaze slightly, she saw a dark red and gray figure, leaping and spinning. She knew him immediately, Spider-Man. 

He had a different costume on though. It was a dark crimson-red, with dark eyes and a dark gray spider. 

It was... different. 

She did not like it. 

The thing that was different, he didn't speak. He only laughed at the man beneath him, squirming and trying to rip free of the Spider's grasp. 

Spider-Man tsked. He took the crook's knife in his hand. He started repeatedly stabbing the man in the gut. After about six stab wounds, Spider-Man let go of the knife in the man's gut. Blood seeped through everything around the man's center. The women gasped behind him. The man fell to the floor, gurgling up blood. 

Spider-Man just watched and laughed. He walked up to the man. He kicked him in the face, full force. 

"Don't... kill... me...please..." the man slurred out. Spider-Man just shrugged. 

"Ya should've thought of that before you decided to commit a crime. Now, you're gonna pay." Spider-Man's voice was low and threatening. Before the man was able to say another word, Spider-Man repeatedly started punching him in the face mercilessly. The man went limp. 

"Is he dead?" The women asked from behind the arachnid. Spider-Man's cold glare shifted to her. 

"I know he's dead," he confirmed. He tossed her her purse. She flinched at it, looking at him. Her purse was covered in red liquid. She looked at the spider. He was covered in most likely the man's blood. 

"I-I thought you didn't kill," she stammered, "Even bad guys..?" she asked hesitantly. Spider-Man laughed. 

"No. Not anymore. Now scat before you have the same fate as him." 

The women did not need to be told twice. 


S.H.E.I.L.D. Hellicarrier 

Director Fury's Office 

9:07 A.M. 

Next Day

"Parker tell me what the hell is on the screen right now!" Fury screamed at the unmasked vigilante. Peter glanced at the screen. He read the headlines of the News, "Spider-Man: Killer of New York!" he shrugged. 

"Is this information true?" Fury asked calming down a small bit. Peter shrugged. 

"Yes, that about covers it." Peter replied, his voice showing no emotion whatsoever. His skin was a light shade of gray, his eyes dull.

He'd been an Avenger for more than about one year now, he started once he was 15.

Once he started. 

Every Avenger loved him. 

He didn't kill; even convinced people not to. 

Nobody thought in a million years that that's what he would do. 

Fury stared at him, disbelief in his eyes. 

"Was it an accident?" he tried. 


"Then you leave me no choice. Until you stop this nonsense, I am keeping you benched on the Avengers." Fury said, folding his arms. He knew how much the kid loved being an Avenger, and surely he wouldn't-

"Okay." Peter said simply. Even Fury couldn't keep the surprise and shock out of his eyes. 

"I, Nick Fury, Head Director of S.H.E.I.L.D., hereby deny you, as Spider-Man, any access to anything of S.H.E.I.L.D., and will not allow you to go out on patrol. Do you hear me?" Nick said, his arms still planted firmly on his chest. Peter just shrugged, tugging on his mask. Those dark and still eyes stared at Nick as Peter tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders.  He looked over his costume; 

Dark gray and crimson color splashed over the boy's body. 

Nick was not a fan. 

He waited until the boy left. After about a few minutes, the boy turned heel. He took a few steps towards the door before completely changing direction, sprinting at full speed towards the director. He kicked him in the stomach, watching without saying a word as Fury's body hit the ground with a thud. He let out a grunt. 

Peter snatched his collar, lifting him up to stare straight at him. 

Even through the mask, Nick could tell that he was smirking. 

"Oh I hear you," Peter said, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth. "Do you hear me?" 


I assure you, Peter's a good guy! 

There's a mystery, and if you will stay with me throughout the journey, then I will be happy to right for you!

This work currently has 981 words. 



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