Reborn as the Spider who bit Peter Parker

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While making emergency repairs to the 'suit', I once again ran diagnostics on the main systems. In addition to all the other damage, there were broken ribs, torn muscles, and a punctured right lung, with a broken rib literally piercing through it. So I was literally choking on my own blood right now. Some people would say that you've already played too much, and it's time to change your body for something better, but I'm an extremely sentimental person and I can't just throw away my 'favourite shirt', even if it's a little torn and out of fashion for a long time. I value the memory itself and the 'home' warmth that I experienced in it.

And I'm somehow attached to this 'suit', even if it has to be 'mended' from time to time, but it doesn't make it any worse, on the contrary, it adds a bit of charm and nostalgic charm.

Losing track of time, I finished the 'restoration'. I wonder how long it took me in the end?

Having started up all the systems after the sudden 'reboot' I finally managed to use my 'eyes' again but saw nothing, then another second passed and another. Trying to blink a couple of times, I felt the veil slowly fall from my eyes, and a moment later I was 'seeing'. The cold dampness of the catacombs greeted me with darkness and many empty fonts. Where had I gone this time?

The lizard couldn't win, could it?

With a wiggle of my neck, I broke the protective film with a slight effort and finally managed to look around. The abandoned distillery didn't inspire confidence at all. And why was I in some kind of font by myself? With a violent jerk, I broke the marble film and finally got out of the restraining grasp of the unknown stuff.

It's cool. Was my first thought after the 'reboot'.

I took a look around my font and smelled the unpleasant odour of medicines mixed with herbs, because that irritating smell was unmistakable. But who brought me here? A teacher? Or was this just another Lizard experiment?

Sighing tiredly, I relaxed for a second in the cosy font, not wanting to get out of it.

And I had no desire to climb through the damp catacombs or the distillery? It's not that important. Now it was possible to take a break and to rest for a minute, because there was no hurry now, and in fact there was no need to hurry. And it seemed that I was going to have a cup of coffee, but it didn't happen and so every time ...

Maybe someone cursed me?

Stretched out to my full height, I finally felt relaxed. It's not bad in here. You could open a spa. But I need to do something about the interior, it's a bit gloomy. It's probably what a film villain's lair looks like. Dusk, some incomprehensible recesses in the concrete, and general abandonment also takes place.

But why is it so cosy?

I should probably take a holiday from this town, if I'm gonna sing like this. I mean, who in their right mind would call this place cosy? I think I hit my head a little harder than I should have. This place has its charm, though.

In the distance I heard the recognisable clatter of heavy army boots.

- Is our sleeping prince awake? - Victor asked gloatingly.

- It's cosy here, I don't even want to leave. Don't you want to open a health salon or a spa in your basement? - I ask Creed snidely.

- I'll think about it. - said the master with a serious look. - And yet, how did you manage to lose to this chumadan? Did I teach you that? - Victor said thoughtfully. - Perhaps you need more rigid training. You don't learn anything, and you don't want to learn. - The teacher lowered his head disappointedly. - Maybe I should give you an apprenticeship in a gang of Irishmen or a gypsy camp? Or send you to the glorious IRA for a week or two. Maybe then you'd learn some sense? - he asked glumly.

- You never taught me anything. - I parried him with my usual response.

- Hm? That's right... - as if remembering something, the master said. - I confused you with Ivan, who died in a fight with a Chinese dragon. And the boy had prospects, but now there is nothing to grieve, because the dead do not care about your dreams and reveries. - said the teacher glumly. - You look just like him, and that's why I'm so upset. - Creed smiled guiltily, like a grandfather who forgot to take his dementia pills. - Why didn't you ask me to teach you something new? Or why did you come to me as an apprentice? - Victor said thoughtfully. - First of all, understand whether you need it all and then decide what an old master can teach such a low-life as you.

Stop. Couldn't you just ask him? I thought this was going to be like the old films. First learn patience, then build up your willpower, and then work as a servant in the master's house, but it's like this. Shit, I could have learnt something by now. I'll keep that in mind.

Come to think of it, what do I need?

I've got the power, but not enough, and every time, there's someone stronger than you. While you sleep, the enemy swings, while you eat, the enemy swings, while you love pretty girls, the fucking enemy still swings. But then how do you win and finally get out of this vicious cycle of violence and power seeking?

- I just want to protect my family and friends. But to do that, I need your knowledge, Master, and the power to use it. - Having formulated my thoughts I answered as honestly as possible, and what is the point of lying to me if I really want to become 'a little' stronger, well, and protect my relatives and friends, and the main thing is not a single lie.

- Trite answer. - The teacher's evaluating gaze went over my battered body again. - But it is accepted, because I do not care about your goals, motivation and life credo, but remember, as long as you are my student, I will ask you to the full extent of the 'law' with which you can familiarise yourself with the 'family'. And I will teach you all your unexpectedly long life, because there is no limit to perfection, and believe me, I will drive you to death, and then I will resurrect you and make you do another kata. - Creed's predatory smile did not inspire confidence.

- What a bloodthirsty teacher you are. - I smiled.

- You came to my gym, and I haven't recruited students for a long time. - The master smiled. - So it's your choice. And yes, I dare say, I do not keep anyone by force, but once you have become my student, there is no turning back. - Creed's smile became even more sinister.

- I get it, I get it. Enough of this. With this approach to teaching, it's no wonder you have no students left. - Noticing an extremely expressive look from the teacher I was silent already imagining how he will get back on these 'hell' training, which he promised me so much.

- Survival of the fittest, the most cunning and sometimes the smartest. My selection requires all of these qualities at once, so not everyone can survive a young fighter's course in this method. But you seem to be doing well, so I believe in you, kid. - Creed's predatory smile returned to normal and now radiated smugness. - And stop lounging in the industrial baths, because 'Auntie' probably already lost you. Clothes and a new smartphone you can take on the table when you are ready to return to the real world, and now you can get out. - the master said with his usual indifference.

Damn, he's right as always. I wonder how long I've been lying in this healing water?

While I was 'restoring' my body, it could have been a long time. I can't reach my phone, I don't know where I am. I can't even imagine what a mess she's made of herself. So I need to get home as soon as possible, I've had enough rest this week.

I stood up abruptly and felt chilly and 'defenceless' again. I need to do something about it and strengthen this body, and I shouldn't forget about my own, but where can I get the tools I need and the technology to improve it? Maybe good old industrial espionage?

For example, you could hack into Ozcorp's servers.

But as far as I know, they don't have anything suitable for my needs. There might be some top-secret stuff, but it's hard to get to. So it's a bit of a vicious circle again. However, if possible, I should improve my tools and equipment and buy what is missing from the market.

I hummed and headed for the table, which was lit by the light of an old paraffin lamp.

Surprised to see the clothes Creed had lent me, I laughed nervously. A black T-shirt with the laconic inscription 'Mama Anarchy' and a black-and-white portrait of a Cuban revolutionary. Shabby sneakers and socks with a distinctive star, as well as a tracksuit with the words 'Made in the USSR' on the back. Where did he dig up all this antiquity? Or maybe it's from his dacha? But does he have it. Once again, I quickly changed my clothes and finally noticed the phone, which was not mine, but not inferior to it.

Switching on my smartphone, I immediately saw a huge list of missed calls from different people, and there were plenty of messages as well.

Quickly climbing the stairs a couple of floors up, I was surprised to note that the basement was 'a little' bigger and deeper than I had originally thought. When I got to the surface, I dialled May, because she must be worried.

- Peter? - I heard a calm voice. - You're free already? Your teacher warned everyone. And why didn't you tell me you had such a gallant man as your mentor? Peter? - She spoke more concernedly, but I couldn't get a word out.

- Yes. I'm free. - was all I could squeeze out of my mouth.

So the master took care of everything? Shit, now I owe him. Why is he acting like an arsehole? Or is it part of his character? Fuck knows. I guess he's not as bad as he wants to make himself out to be. Well, I'll have to thank him.

- That's good. But don't do that again. You run off unannounced to your training camp. - Mei was fake indignant. - I didn't even pack you anything for the journey. Are you hungry? Or have you been eating junk food all these days?

- I'll be glad to have a home-cooked meal, because you know how much I love your divine cooking.

- Flatterer. - May laughed pleasantly into the phone. - By the way, your friend Felicia called again. Couldn't get through either. And also Anna Watson's niece came to visit us and also wondered where our Peter was. - May continued snidely.

- What a demand for Parker. Can I count on homemade pancakes tonight? - I decided to change the subject.

- You can, of course, but who will cook them is another question.

- Eh. Well, I'll just have to eat my sorrows with ice cream. - I sighed sadly.

- Grab me a strawberry. - May completely ignored my attempt at pancakes.

After talking to her for another half an hour about everyday stuff, I walked out to the bus stop trying to figure out where I was going. There was an interesting message from Gwen, apologising that she'd been rather abrupt, but I'd been good myself. It all boiled down to the fact that she wanted to finish some old project from Connors with me as co-author. Sending a terse agreement, I continued checking messages and missed calls. I might as well not have a phone right now, or most of my clothes. That Lizard had really messed me up, so I definitely needed to pay Creed back for saving my hide and stuff.

I texted back to Carrot-top and quickly convinced her that everything was fine, and that I was really on a 'training camp' and agreed to meet up for a cup of coffee sometime. Having finished sorting out the accumulated information rubbish, I returned to thoughts about amplification. For a start, I could reinforce the usual suit and think over the autopilot system, so that in case of an emergency I could call it right on the spot, because, as practice showed, you can always be unarmed in front of a suddenly appeared enemy, and this way you'll have at least some kind of a trump card.

- Liquidators are still dealing with the aftermath of a terrorist attack in one of the New York neighbourhoods and the explosion of a dirty bomb. No terrorist group has claimed responsibility yet. - Turning my head, I saw some guy watching the latest news straight from his smartphone screen.