08 - Indomitable Spirit

-RING! RING!

Peter repeatedly rang the doorbell as he held a pizza box in his hands, t'was the last of its family, with the rest having already been delivered by him earlier.

His fingers could still feel the faint warmth of the pizza inside, and his enhanced senses couldn't help but pick up on the unique aroma it exuded.

Still, Peter couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows as he recognized the scent.

The alluring fragrance of the melted cheeses nestled in the crusty dough and combined with various toppings, such as sweet bacon and mushrooms made a delicious image in his mind, one that just proved how good Joe's Pizza was.

But.

...There was the distinct scent of fresh pineapple slices imported from elsewhere on this pizza.

Pineapple on pizza?

Peter considered it an afront to the Italians.

Or was it Rome...? Ah, wait, aren't those the same thing?

He wasn't sure what the culinary origins of pizza were, but the modern iteration probably did come from Italy or somewhere simillar.

His musings were soon left abandoned as the door swun open and revealed the customer inside.

She was a teenager around his age, wearing a sleeveless star-speckled shirt as dark as the night sky and a long, grayish wool skirt that reached to her ankles, almost meeting the casual sandals worn on her feet.

The corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up as she looked at the male before her, her white teeth overshadowed only by the bright twinkle in her cerulean blue eyes.

Slightly adjusting the black headband on her blonde locks of hair, she spoke up. "I was betting that it would be you."

"Well, what if it wasn't?" Peter remarked back, though his face too was illuminated by a bright smile that couldn't be contained.

She was, after all, his Gwen Stacy.

"...I don't know, maybe I'll order another one." Gwen responded as she tilted her head and hid some of her wilder strands of hair behind her right ear. "You're pass the 30 minute mark, so...it's free, right?"

Peter looked genuinely horrified at that statement. "Y-Yeah, but then I have to pay for it."

"Oh, so that's how that works..." Gwen muttered. "Always knew they wouldn't so generous."

"Well..." Peter glance down at the pizza box as he gave a response. "I don't blame them."

With that, he quickly exchanged the pizza box for a second smile tinged with pitiful sympathy from Gwen.

If you're so concerned for my wallet, then pay for it!—Peter lampooned internally, but didn't dare to say it aloud.

"...But how did you ended up so late?" She asked curiously. "You're the type to always be fast, Peter."

"...Fast?" Peter repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, fast on your foot." She pointed at his shoes. "Well, maybe not as fast as Flash, but you get the point."

Flash...

Peter couldn't help but frown when he thought about that hateable guy.

Eugene Eric Thompson, better known as Flash.

Not to be confused with the Flash of Central City, Flash Thompson was just called that because he was Midtown High's fastest quarterback—his nickname actually predated the vigilante.

It was an incredible coincidence though, but it certainly hadn't stopped Flash from cosplaying as the Flash for a sick social media post...that horrendous costume permeated his stories for a whole 2 weeks and a half.

"I kind of..." Uh, how should he put it? "Got into a driving incident..."

"What!?" Immediate concern threatened to leak out of the girl's bright blue eyes as she heard his words. "Are you hurt? What happened?" She placed the pizza box to a table on the side as she stepped forward with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Uh, no, no—I'm fine!" Peter said as he stepped back and spun around to emphasize that he was, in fact, completely fine. "See?"

He didn't want her getting too close, lest she sees the Spiderman costume under his clothes.

"Right..." Gwen frowned as she sported an incredulous look and crossed her arms subconciously.

"...Since you're not limping or anything, I'm guessing you weren't directly involved with the accident?" She quickly deduced with her brain.

"Incident." He reflexively corrected. "Accident is for when people get hurt, no one did this time." He said almost robotically.

She didn't seem to mind, already used to Peter's corrective tendencies when it came to such terms.

Under her gaze, Peter quickly explained what occured, leaving out the part where he leaped across the car and replacing it by him just jumping to the side, something that was much more realistic and believable.

"There was no one driving the car?" Gwen looked as confused as he was when he saw it. "Sounds like something from an urban mystery novel..."

"Yeah, I think I'm haunted." Peter said with a sigh. He wouldn't rule literal ghosts out of the story...

After all, he had fought againts a sentient sand criminal before—a ghost that can possess cars seemed mighty plausible.

And all this talk about aliens recently certainly hadn't squashed his anxiety.

...Or maybe it was a deranged Mutant with the ability to control automobiles? Maybe they're not even deranged and just lost control?

Hell, maybe it was someome who got bit by a radioactive transformer, who knows.

Gwen laughed at his statement, taking it as a mere jest, albeit a lame one—she still found it funny for some odd reason.

"Ah, wait..." She narrowed her eyes. "Did you give a statement to the police about the incident?"

"No." Peter shrugged. "I just ran off, would be too much of a bother."

Especially so, considering the Spiderman suit under his clothes.

She smirked. "Quite bold of you to say that to a police captain's daughter."

"A-Ah..." Peter became very stiff as he heard her words, only realizing that fact now. "Do you, uh...take bribes?"

"Lucky you, I do." She confirmed before glancing down at the pizza. "This will do...for now." She smiled innocently as she said that.

A chill traversed through Peter's bones, crawling down like the sins of a regretful killer. Not knowing how to particularly react, he just gave an awkward smile back before exhanging a few more pleasantries with Gwen.

Ultimately, he still needed to his part-time job of pizza delivery.

"Uah...why do I feel like she just swindled my soul?" He quitely muttered after exiting the Stacy household's frontyard, scratching the back of his head as he trudged the path.

Stealing souls was a minor thing, really. But what convinced Peter she could do that was the fact that she specifically ordered for pineapple topping on her pizza.

Must be a Demon in disguise.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the sound of a ding managed to steal his attention.

He quickly pulled on the zipper and slid his slippery fingers inside the fanny pack on his waist, retrieving a phone from the bag as he unlocked it with the appropriate password.

Peter's face immediately produced a noticeable frown as he read the notification displayed on the screen.

[Rogue Attack on Ingram Street, Queens borough! Keep calm, and steer clear of the premises!]

Currently, the world had adopted certain labels for those possessing superpowers.

"Sleepers" for civilians who possessed obvious superpowers, but chose to live normal lives away from any super-action. Most Mutants actually fell into this catagory.

"Rogues" for criminals and law-breakers with potent superpowered-might and menacing intentions.

"Capes" for those who took the law into their own hands and became local heroes and vigilantes. The term was naturally coined by internet users after the cape-wearing Superman made his debut.

These terms became especially prevalent in today's age, considering the sheer increase of superpowered people in modern society.

Rogues with a high enough threat-level were essentially deemed as sentient natural disasters, so the existence of an alert system to notify nearby citizens of a Rogue's presence was quickly implemented.

Since Peter had only received a notification and not a blaring alarm from the nearby siren, he must still be far away from the danger zone.

A reassuring thing, Peter regarded as he glanced back at Gwen's suburban home.

But...

Ingram Street was where he lived! Thank god, Aunt May wasn't home...!

With an expression that betrayed conviction, Peter quickly ran off to a nearby dark alleyway as he undid the individual buttons of his shirt.

Quickly jumping atop one of those big dumpsters, Peter neatly folded his civillian clothes and prayed to God the Almighty that it wouldn't be snatched away by a homeless uncle like last time.

Sticking to the wall with his slippery left hand, Peter pulled out the Spiderman mask, took a second look to make sure it wasn't wet or anything, and quickly covered his face with it.

With a soft 'clink', his vision readjusted as the mask attached itself to his suit, the night vision lenses implanted into mask proving their worth.

Forming a 'rock hand sign' with his right hand, a sticky white substance quickly shot out from the small hole in the suit's wrist.

After another shot of white, Spiderman emerged out from the alleyway as his red and blue form webslinged from building to building, heading to Ingram Street with a brisk pace.

"Hm..." A bemused voice hummed as a pair of darkest brown eyes peered from the shadows behind the dumpster that Spiderman had just climbed upon.

"I wonder..." His voice was young, but distinctly masculine. "Why would someone name himself after an insect?"

Of course, it was...

---His POV

...Me.

I wondered this as I floated out from the shadows, taking a glance at Peter Parker's neatly folded clothes.

It's best not to touch it, I heard the male juveniles of this species reeked of sweat and grime as they developed.

"Add." I clicked my earpieces as I voiced out a question. "Is that one of those Terran Mutants you talked about?"

That guy, Peter Parker, had naturally atracted my attention when he managed to jumped high enough to avoid the car.

Something like that should still be in the realm of possibility for a Terran, albeit a highly-athletic one, but...

Shooting mysterious sticky liquid out of one's wrists seemed rather special.

"Can't quite confirm, Master Lugh." Add answered back. "Extracting a fresh DNA sample or performing a close-up scan would allow for a better look."

Right, most of the Mutants weren't registered or anything and a vigilante probably wouldn't want to disclose much of their biology...

"...Is everything going according to plan on your end?" I asked, changing the topic to the supposed Rogue Attack.

"Certainly so, Master Lugh. Everything is perfectly progressing as we have forseen." Add said, making my brows furrow at his choice of words.

"You've used more flamboyantly dramatic language nowadays." I noted with a particular expression.

"Do you not approve of this manner of speech, Master Lugh?" Add asked with complete deference to me.

It took me a few seconds of silent thinking to decide my thoughts on the matter.

"I don't care." I decided, shaking my head. "Speak however you please, it does not matter."

In the end, Add was programmed to adapt to be the most suitable assistant for it's assigned Master.

The change in language was probably because of me somehow...damn, I have to watch myself.

"Thank you, Master Lugh." It seemed weirdly proud for some reason.

I shook my head before discarding that train of thought, my body floating to the air as mye eyes peered out, locking in to Spiderman's location.

My fingers dug into the brick wall as I grasped it in my arm, using it as a sort of sling, I pushed myself forward and launched into sky.

The sound barrier broke as my body shot through the air, my uniform not at all bothered by the intense winds.

I quickly pulled my hood up and activated the face concealment hologram as it fell over my face, covering it in a thin veil of darkness.

This was a different uniform that I had Add fabricate, with several practical modifications such as this concealing hood.

Although one might say it was useless to cover the face at this point, considering my face was already very much public, but I beg to differ.

Superman's face was also public, but during my time observing him, not once did anyone call him out as Superman when he was Clark Kent.

They were starkly different people, after all. Kal-El was an excellent actor, which made perfect sence considering his amount of experience.

Compared to him who had been doing it his whole life, I was a mere infant.

And most infant—even Viltrumite ones—required some assistance before they could fend for themselves.

Thus it was essential that I create a gap between my two personas, focusing on making Scion ever the mysterious outsider, and Luke Kent a familliar neighbour.

It was also so that the masses wouldn't get used to my real face, thus decreasing the chance of an identity overlap with Luke Kent.

My body rapidly slowed down in its flying pace as what could only be described a metropolitan warzone came into view.

Steam and ash littered the surroundings as the sounds of screams and gunshots served as background music.

Numerous streetside establishments were ruined to hell, their windows shattered and the insides looted until the last speckle of dust and debri.

Police cars and their civillian counterparts were toppled over, some completely ripped to shreds and some turned upside down, while others were bent to impossible angles.

The participants of this warzone were a healthy and balanced mix of armed police officers and armoured task forces fighting against the criminal gunmen and their street thug goons.

But the main host of this bountiful event? None other than a steaming giant of a man clad in a mechanical armour vaguely built in the shape of a single-horned beast, his form seem to exude an aura of brimming radiation.

...The Rhino.

But I didn't interfere just yet, no—Spiderman is still on his way, I have to wait for him, it was in my best interest to do so.

Most of the 'trust' I earned from the masses these past few days were because I was accompanied by a well-known and well-liked figure, why change the strategy? It was quite effective for the moment.

"Hm...?" Something at the corner of my vision caught my attention. "What's this?"

It was a father, about the age one would expect of a father, and he was seemingly trying to lift a whole car alongside a young boy, presumaly his offspring.

I couldn't help but draw closer, perhaps attracted by the sheer foolishness of the man or something similliar.

Terrans did not have the inherent strength to lift that vehicle, old man...and that boy's strength doesn't amount to anything!

My feet landed on the asphalt road as my deep brown eyes peered from the darkness of my cloak whilst the man and his son continued on their fruitless attempt, completely ignoring my existence, perhaps subconciously.

"I see." I muttered as I glanced below the car, revealing the little form of a crying girl, one much younger than even Garfield.

Then I guess their motivations weren't so foolish...

But what is it with this planet and their crying children? So emotional for no reason, just crawl out of their, little girl!

Well, to be fair, she seemed to be stuck on something.

I moved closer as the young boy stopped and noticed my arrival, yet the father didn't.

I was going to help them, this was free publicity and—

"Huh?"

I stood there, slackjawed and confused, my mind momentarily freezing as I beheld the amazing sight before me.

Blood dribbled down from his pores, his nose leaking with the red liquid as his muscles tore apart with visible red spots on his skin, spots that even a Terran could see.

The father managed to lift the car, not by much in particular, but just, just enough for the little girl to shrug off whatever it was that kept her there and crawl out with minimal wounds.

This...

I stood in silence just meters away as the crying little girl was swept but by the combined warmth embrace of her father and brother.

"Oh...thank God! Ana, it's fine, it's all fine now..." The father whispered, comforting his little daughter for a bit before his son tugged at his arm.

The boy then pointed at me as his father and I made eye contact.

"You are a Mutant." I concluded, but something seemed off.

A Mutant with a strong body just felt different under my gaze, they were healthier, sturdier.

The man before me seemed to be a mundane human.

"What...?" The man seemed preplexed as his eyes became watery. "N-No...I am...not..."

He passed out as both of the children panicked and started to call out for him.

"He's fine, you two." I addressed the children, their bodies trembling from all that has happened.

I glanced down at the man, he was suffering from all that backlash of exerting strength that he shouldn't have.

That's right, how did he even manage to draw such strength? There doesn't seem to be any Magic involved considering he didn't turn into a bunch of raving maggots.

I glanced back at those two children, then approached.

"Hey, boy." I addressed the male child, he seemed to regard me with a mixture of awe and palpable fear. "How did your father get so strong?"

"M-My dad is the s-strongest!" He managed to stutter out.

"He's not normally this strong, is he?" I asked again. "What made him so strong?"

The boy gulped down as he regained some modicum of composure, then he stared at his unconcious father, then back at me.

"Um...it's...it's, uh...adrenaline, yeah, it's adrenaline." He formulated. "My d-dad told me it's what makes men like him strong in..."

He glanced at the car. "In that kind of situation..."

Adrenaline? Seriously?

I know what adrenaline is, some lesser races have them—but it doesn't give you manic strenght, it just makes you...feel...less...pain...

Ah.