The Fake Spider(Spiderman Fanfic)(Eventually Spider-verse fanfic)

The citizens of New York City were caught in the daily rhythm of life as they navigated the busy streets. The hustle and bustle created a vibrant symphony of sounds, with taxis blaring their horns, the chatter of pedestrians, and the rhythmic clanging of construction work. Tall skyscrapers stood tall like guardians, casting shadows that danced in the midday sun, forming a mesmerizing urban landscape against the clear blue sky.

Yet, amidst this ordinary chaos, an extraordinary event unfolded, shattering the tranquility. The sharp, jarring cracks of gunshots sliced through the air like thunderclaps, causing an instant uproar. Panic gripped the masses as they instinctively sought cover, some gasping in fear, while others whipped out their smartphones in the hope of capturing a spectacle that was all too familiar in their city.

"Requesting immediate backup. Suspects are Northbound on Clark," a seasoned police officer spoke quietly but urgently into his radio, his eyes never leaving the vehicle ahead of him. With practiced ease, he steered the police car through the crowded streets, every maneuver calculated to keep his distance from the gunmen.

Meanwhile, from the window of the speeding vehicle, a man dangled precariously, brandishing a weapon with a chilling intent. He fired repeatedly at the police car, his face contorted with anger and determination. Yet, despite his relentless assault, the skilled officer navigated the narrow streets with a grace that seemed almost unnatural, evading each bullet as if he possessed a sixth sense.

"Shit! They're persistent!" the man hanging outside the window shouted, his frustration echoing through the cityscape. Ignoring the officer's skilled evasion, he reloaded his weapon, his finger twitching on the trigger. However, his attention was suddenly diverted when his body moved slightly forward, an indication that the car he was in has lowered its speed.

"Why did you slow down!?" he demanded of his nervous accomplice, who nervously glanced ahead. There, an elderly woman, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight, was crossing the street with a bag of groceries in hand.

"Fucking idiot! Don't worry about an old hag now! Step on it! She'll die soon anyway!" the man growled at his hesitant partner, who reluctantly obeyed, his conscience wrestling with the dangerous course of action.

Just as the vehicle surged forward, aiming directly for the elderly woman, a blur of red and blue appeared in the blink of an eye. A figure, seemingly defying gravity, swung down with agility that seemed almost otherworldly. Crossing his arms, he pressed a hidden button on his wrist, and a triumphant thwip filled the air as thick web ropes shot out, forming an impenetrable barrier just in time to halt the menacing vehicle.

The two men inside the car screamed as the driver desperately tried to swerve, but fate had already decided their course. The car flipped over in a heart-stopping spectacle, crashing to the ground in a cacophony of metal and glass. The once menacing criminals were now unconscious and bleeding, their dangerous endeavor thwarted by a single, heroic act.

The red-clad figure, none other than Spiderman, turned his attention to the elderly woman, who stood there in shock, her heart pounding. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, held a warmth and kindness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment.

"Making stew tonight, madam?" he inquired with a friendly smile, gathering the groceries that had fallen in the commotion. Though still trembling, the woman managed a nod of gratitude, her faith in humanity reaffirmed by this masked guardian.

With a confident flick of his wrist, Spiderman shot his webs towards a nearby building, propelling himself effortlessly into the air. He turned back, his iconic symbol emblazoned on his chest, and addressed the awe-struck crowd below.

"Have a nice day, folks!" he called out, his voice carrying the assurance of protection. The onlookers erupted in cheers and applause, their city's legendary hero reminding them that they were never alone.

"Try not to blink, everyone!" a tour guide exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he pointed at the crimson figure swinging gracefully across the skyline. "That red suit and symbol belong to none other than our friendly neighborhood Spiderman!" he declared, and the tourists watched in wide-eyed wonder as the masked vigilante soared, a beacon of hope against the backdrop of towering buildings.

Once again, Spiderman had swung to the rescue, weaving his way into the hearts of New York City's citizens, leaving them in awe of the courage and selflessness that lurked behind the mask of their extraordinary hero.

____

Inside a cozy house nestled in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood, a ray of morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the dining table where Andreas sat. Absentmindedly, he swiped through his phone, his fingers tracing over the smooth glass surface. A slice of toast balanced in his other hand, forgotten as he delved deeper into the article about his beloved idol, the one and only Spiderman, engaged in an epic battle against the villainous Scorpion.

As he immersed himself in the web-slinging hero's latest triumph, Andreas couldn't contain his excitement. 'Spidey's so cool!' he thought to himself, a wide grin spreading across his face. 'And just like always, his pose is iconic. He's a true star.' But then, his thoughts took an unfortunate turn, stifled by self-doubt. 'But me? I'm...'

Before he could complete that line of thought, his father's commanding voice broke through the reverie. "Andreas, stop scrolling through your phone," his father's sharp tone cut through the air. Dressed in a dignified business suit, he gazed at his son with a stern expression. "School's going to start soon, and don't you have a test today? You should focus on that."

A sense of resignation washed over Andreas, and he stammered, "Y-yeah." Taking one final bite of his toast, he hastily stood up and reached for his bag. Without waiting for his father to say anything else, he made his way to the door.

"Good luck, son," his father's voice called from the kitchen, but Andreas couldn't meet his father's gaze. Instead, he gazed at the floor with a heart weighed down by unspoken burdens, managing to force a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Dad," he replied, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Stepping outside, Andreas began his journey to school. He continued reading the article about Spiderman, trying to find solace in the legendary hero's exploits. 'He's still getting the recognition he deserves. He's really amazing' he thought, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

Yet, as he observed other teenagers chatting and laughing with their friends, his smile faded, replaced by a poignant realization of his own isolation. 'Me? I'm just your regular, ordinary high schooler with no special powers,' he mused bitterly, his gaze drawn to the happy groups walking together.

"Scratch that, I'm... just an outcast," he admitted to himself, his steps faltering as he distanced himself from the group of peers heading to the same school. His gaze lingered on them for a moment, envy and loneliness welling up inside him.

Yet, he found solace in his favorite hobby. Soon, his trajectory led him to a rock climbing gym that he frequented. Greeting the friendly receptionist, Andreas approached the towering wall adorned with climbing holds, ready for bouldering—a form of climbing without harnesses, only large crash pads below to break potential falls.

Andreas' fingers latched onto a rugged protrusion, and he began his ascent, his hands and feet moving with practiced grace. With each upward step, the negative thoughts that plagued his mind seemed to melt away. A small, genuine smile graced his face. The slight ache in his muscles, the texture of the rock against his skin, the sense of gaining altitude, and the rhythm of his breath—all combined to offer him a respite from reality, a fleeting glimpse of what it might feel like to be his idol, Spiderman.

"Ah!" His exclamation pierced the air as his grip slipped, and he began to fall. His heart skipped a beat before he landed safely on the crash pad with a muffled thud, grateful for the protective cushion it provided.

Lying on his back, Andreas gazed absentmindedly at the ceiling above. Suddenly, a man's face materialized above him, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You've been coming here a lot lately," the man observed.