Spider-Man : The Story of a Hero

New York — Times Square — Day

In the crowded streets of the magnificent Times Square, where New York residents mixed with tourists from all over the world, Peter slowly made his way through the enormous crowd.

Despite the constant murmur of conversations, the noise of traffic, and the street food vendors working behind their stands to serve their customers, everything seemed strangely distant.

The young teenager was so deeply lost in thought that the world around him no longer seemed to exist. It was as though he were alone in the middle of this sea of people.

His mind naturally returned to the notes he had read earlier in Professor Connors’ laboratory. Despite all the excitement he had felt upon discovering the symbiote’s incredible abilities and the fascination he had still recently felt for this lifeform, part of the scientist’s conclusions now refused to leave his mind.

— ”The symbiote... makes its hosts violent and aggressive?”

Thinking back on the recent events, he remembered that he had discovered the existence of this creature on the same day as his terrible reunion with Eddie Brock. For a moment, he wondered whether that uncontrollable anger had already been caused by the symbiote... before immediately rejecting that possibility. It was impossible.

At that moment, the alien had not even bonded with him yet. That rage therefore belonged entirely to him. He was the one who had acted under the influence of his emotions, his anger, and everything he had accumulated over the past several years.

Other events then came back to him. His coldness, his increasingly aggressive and nervous behavior... then the way he had acted with Gwen. He then tried to remember what had happened the day before, but in vain. His mind remained completely blank. It was as though yesterday, both the day and the evening, had never existed.

The real question lay elsewhere. Did all of that truly resemble him? Was it consistent with the values he had been taught, the education he had received and, above all, the person he had always been? Then how could such behavior be explained?

Was it simply him... or had the symbiote truly amplified his anger, as Professor Connors’ notes claimed? And if that was the case... how could he know? How could he distinguish what came from him from what came from that creature?

If the symbiote only amplified emotions already present within its host... then did that mean that, deep down, Peter truly carried all that aggression inside him? All that rage... was it simply his own? Was the symbiote ultimately doing nothing more than releasing a violence he had until then kept locked away deep inside himself?

After turning all these questions over and over in his mind, Peter began to feel slightly tired. He slowly ran a hand over his forehead before continuing his walk through Times Square, until he noticed several street food stands set up along the street, serving all kinds of burgers, hot dogs, and drinks.

At that very moment, his stomach began to growl. He walked over to one of the stands and waited for several minutes before it was finally his turn. When he could finally order, he chose four hot dogs with different recipes.

He started with the most iconic one, topped with a beef sausage, yellow mustard, sauerkraut, and onions cooked in a slightly spicy tomato sauce. He then ordered a Chili Dog, generously topped with chili con carne, grated cheese, onions, and sometimes even a little mustard.

Then he added a Coney Dog, made with a sausage, a meat sauce similar to chili, raw onions, and ketchup. Finally, he finished with a Chicago Dog, prepared with a beef sausage, mustard, green relish, onions, tomato slices, a whole pickle, a green pepper, and a pinch of celery salt. And, as a finishing touch, he also bought two cans of Fanta.

Once his meal had been carefully packed into a small bag, Peter discreetly left the crowd, slipped into a nearby alley and, after making sure no one could see him, climbed to the top of a building overlooking all the activity of Times Square.

From up there, he watched the crowd moving endlessly among the enormous billboards and glowing screens that had made the place famous. Enjoying the sight, which seemed both lively and surprisingly peaceful from such a height, he took out his hot dogs one by one and calmly devoured them, washing his meal down with his first can of Fanta, which he finished rather quickly.

Once he had finished the last hot dog, he opened the second can and drank it much more slowly, finally enjoying a true moment of peace while letting his meal begin to digest.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to something crossing the sky at a lower altitude than where he was standing. At first, he could only make out a dark silhouette in the distance. Intrigued, he narrowed his eyes slightly to get a better look.

The more the seconds passed, the clearer the strange shape became... until he finally understood that it was a man... or, more precisely, someone wearing what strongly resembled an armor or a robot capable of flying.

— ”What is that thing...?”

Suddenly, the strange flying armor fired a projectile at one of Times Square’s enormous billboards. The structure immediately gave way and threatened to collapse onto the crowd.

The moment the explosion rang out, screams erupted in every direction. Passersby began running in panic. But the stranger did not stop there.

He fired repeatedly and destroyed several other billboards as well as gigantic advertising screens. All of them were now swaying dangerously above the crowd.

This time, it was no longer a few dozen people who risked being crushed, but probably more than a hundred innocent people.

Seeing the disaster unfold before his eyes, Peter suddenly stood up. Caught off guard, he clenched his teeth before letting out a deep sigh of irritation.

— ”Fuck... another problem.”

Without wasting a second, he fastened his web-shooters around his wrists, then put on only his mask, not having enough time to put on the rest of his suit.

His identity was now concealed, while the rest of his body remained dressed in his civilian clothes. He abandoned his bag on the rooftop, took a running start, and jumped into the void without the slightest hesitation, visibly running out of patience with all these new costumed enemies who seemed to appear one after another.

— ”I’m REALLY starting to get sick of all these costumed lunatics!”

TO BE CONTINUED.