2 Chapter 2: So now what?

Peter rubbed a sore spot on his forehead from his faceplant before he stood straight and took a deep breath. "Ok. Just a wall. I stuck to my desk at school, no reason I can't stick to this random wall." Instead of running this time, he walked to the wall and set his hands on it. Initially no stick happened. But then a sense of determination kicked in. "Goddammit, stick motherfucker!" He cursed, and almost instantly, his hands stuck to the wall. A trickle of information dripped into his brain, the idea that his hands And feet would stick if he just willed them to. In the next minute and a half, he'd crawled up the side of fhe building and he now stood on the wall, his body parallel to the ground, before he ran to the top. Instinct said to flex his fingers, and 5 threads of webbing shot from his right hand and tethered the edge of the roof, as he used it to shoot himself up and into a roll on the roof. Once there, he grinned, and took off in a sprint, leaping across alleyways. He'll readily admit, he was completely not paying attention, before a tingle rose at the base of his neck and he realized he had just flung himself off a building with no building under his feet following the leap. Instinct again took over, and both of his hands shot up, 10 threads of webbing wrapping and tangling together to form one thick-ass web, which sprang from his hands and splatted against a cran above him. Momentum brought him swinging up high, until the momentum reversed with gravity, sending him into a high-velocity faceplant into the side of a building. He let go of his web rope and found himself in a dumpster from the rather far drop.

About twenty minutes later, he was back home in his room, sitting at his desk. "What exactly do I do now with these powers?" He paced across his room, thinking. Again, a trickle came crawling into his head of something Uncle Ben had practically hammered into Peter's head: "With great power, comes great responsibility."

This new Peter rolled his eyes. "Dude, I just wanna do a little good but do what I want at the same time. Screw that responsibility shit, Imma help people cus I wanna. I'm a bored guy, it gives me something to do." He shrugged and sat himself down at his desk. "So what the fuck kinda suit do I want...?"

He went through about 10 different full-fledged designs, none of which he liked, before he spotted some old aviator goggles that used to be his dad's. He spotted a yellow, black, and blue hoodie he never really wore, and some also pale yellow high-top sneakers that Harry once got him, which old Peter didn't like. New Peter loved them though, so it was game time.

After a bit of design trial and error, he came up with the final design: His hoodie, with sewn-in black webbing designs along the pale yellow, a white spider across the chest which he made out of some felt patches that Aunt May had for when jeans or whatever ripped. He dyed those patches white before he cut them into the spider and sewed them onto the black of his hoodie. He ripped off a long strip of cloth from a shirt that didn't fit him anymore, and stiched the black thread into the webbing design again, the cloth itself just a little bit off from the pale yellow, more of a pale gold, and brought that into a facemask type of deal, sewing in the web pattern again. He snuck around the house and scavenged for anything and everything made of leather and made some fingerless gloves out of it, the sleeves snug up to his elbow. Satisfied he left again, to truly test what he could do and put this to practice.

He webbed his way into the bulk of the city, swinging by the tips of his fingers, practicing how to isolate webs into specific fingers, before the same tingle from earlier in the day returned. He yanked himself out the of the way with a quick shot of webbing from his thumb, narrowly avoiding a flying figure with giant, green, metallic wings. Peter landed on the side of a wall, and he willed himself to stick to it, which he did. Nodding in appreciation at his little danger warning, he began to swing after the green flying figure, a money bag dangling from said figure's...talons? Yep, those are talons.

Peter gulped. Was he biting off more than he could chew? He couldn't dwell on that for now, picking up his pace and swinging to right under the green figure. Positioning himself in the air to be angled with his feet towards the figure, Peter shot out webs from all ten fingers, the strands wrapping around the criminal's arms and sticking, allowing Peter to slingshot himself up and into his stomach. With the momentum, Peter flailed on the air for a split second, before he slingshotted himself downward into his target's back. At least he would've, if the criminal old man called Vulture hadn't barrel rolled out of the way and lashed out with his sharp wings, leaving a lasting cut across Peter's arm.

Wincing, Peter webbed over to the wall of a tall building near them and turned to face the quite old, green bird dude. "Shit, what is that, aluminum? No wonder you're robbing a bank, you need to feed your 60 cats and your morphine addiction. Or is it bengay? Can't tell by the smell, oof!" Enraged, Vulture dashed through the sky, an unoccupied talon aiming for Peter's chest. Gripping a bit harder with his fingertips, Peter did a back bend, staring the old man in the face before webzipping himself into said face with a very nice punch. Vulture, a bit more experienced than the young teen tangling with him, took the punch, and the 3 lost teeth, before spinning with it, his right wing slashing across Peter's chest shallowly, a slight cut that tore through the top of the white spider. "Goddammit, man! That spider took fucking FOREVER to sew!" Peter webbed his fingers, pointing at each other, and, his hypothesis correct, created a big ball of webs, which he launched at Vulture. The webs splattered across Adrian Toomes' face, some webs even mucking up his wings, before Peter executed 2 or 3 webzips around him, a nice spinning heel kick to the temple, a double-knee to the slightly vulnerable center of his back, and then a web-assisted vaulting flip over Vulture's head, accompanied by a one-footed slingshot flying kick to the jaw.

Peter webbed Vulture in a nice net on the way down before he left quickly, hearing the police very near. His own assessment of what had gone down, was roughly that he needed to work on his acting on the weird tingle in his head, and maybe work on his costume. Rips across his main emblem weren't okay if he wanted to look badass while he did this Spider-Man thing.