Web 2: Elseworld short story!

To be honest, at first I'd thought I just had a shitty reincarnation into my old world.

I was raised in a religious orphanage, which meant nuns actually broke rulers on my ass from the sheer amount of misbehaving.

That all changed when the submariner attacked. That's when I realized the world that I inhabited.

Now, I'd already been planning to join the army. I wasn't the biggest fan of the organization, but even I knew that when nazis show up, you take up arms.

Now? Now I knew that the nazis where twice as dangerous as they appeared.

And that I could be as well.

So, one night, I sat at the edge of my bed, and I prayed for the first time in either of my lives.

"I don't know if you're listening," I whispered at the little spider that was hanging from my joined hands from a thread. "But I need to at least try, because I'd never forgive myself otherwise.

"I know I'm not your usual pick for a chosen one, but I swear I'll be as good as I can be." The spider stoped descending the web, and started climbing back up. "I will wield the power you grant me with utmost responsibility. I will fight evil where I find it. I will inspire others, and push back evil."

The spider crawled to the tip, and I opened my eyes to look at it. "Please, connect me to the Great Web of Fate."

Honestly, what else could I do? It was the powerset I was best acquainted with.

The spider climbed down, bit me on the backhand, and climbed to the ground on a web.

I winced at the pain, but decided that was as good as I was going to get, and climbed to bed.

"Hey," one of my roomates, a kid called Blake, whispered. "Where you praying? You never do that."

"... Desperate times call for desperate measures." I shrugged.

I was seventeen. The next day I turned eighteen.

Powers or not, I was joining the fight.

I dreamt of webs, and spiders, and of being eaten.

The pain wrecked through my body and I screamed until I bled from the mouth.

GIVE UP

it said

YOU ARE NOT WORTHY

And I replied.

"I will be."

When I woke up, I was in twice a better shape that I had been.

A bit of discreet testing, and I found I had all the powers of Spider-Man, including my own organic webs.

I bid everyon goodbye, and walked out with all the rulers in my bag as a final prank.

"Alright then," I muttered as I entered the enlistment office. "Let's do this."

The army accepted me fast enough when they saw my physique. And when I showed my powers, I was sent a secret bunker.

"So," I eventually asked, as I was sat down in a round table with important-looking people. "Does it help your secret organization remain secret that you put its name on big letters everywhere?"

I gave the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo behind the others at the table a pointed look.

"Don't be a smartass, son." General something-or-another grunted. "Where did you get your powers?"

"Spider-Goddess."

"Don't play around!" he slammed a fist on the table, not noticing all the spiders crawling over the wall and gathering behind him. "We're in war, and we need every advantage we can get!"

IN THAT CASE

The Other said

I SUGGEST YOU WATCH YOUR ATTITUDE WITH MY CHAMPION

Everyone screamed, except for me.

I just waved and smiled at the eldritch abomination. "Hey, mom!"

HELLO MY CHILD

"That's your mother?!" General Whatever squeaked, pointing at Other.

"Not really, I'm just joking," I looked at my patron. "What do you need?"

JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU GOT TREATED RIGHT

It started unmaking.

I'LL TAKE MY LEAVE NOW

The spiders crawled away, and soon we were alone in the room.

"SO! Are we doing this?"

And we did it. They gave me a mask, a rifle, a revolver, and sent me off to Europe.

The Super Soldier serum was just in its infancy, so I was the Captain America stand-in until the real deal came along.

"They've got us pinned!" one of my squadmates, O'Hara, screamed.

"No shit, soldier!" I screamed back.

We were in some charming rural town of WhoCares, France, which the Nazis had been using as a base.

Unfortunately, the people of WhoCares were very religious, and they had a big church with a big tower and with a very sharp-eyed sniper, who'd had us pinned in the snow-covered woods for the last ten minutes or so.

Once they fire stopped, I poked a hand out and flipped off the sniper.

Spider-Sense gave me half a second of warning to pull my hand back before a bullet tore through where it had just been.

"Sharp eyes on this kraut fuck, I'll give him that," Captain Wolf grumbled, and I chuckled. "Any ideas, sir?"

I didn't have an official rank as much as I had a general air of 'do what I say' about me.

Other knows why, I never have any idea of what I'm doing.

I pulled up my mask to drink a little from my water canteen. I offered it to Wolf, who shook his head.

I said, "Wait here, until the corpse lands, then go for the town."

"What corpse?" O'Hara asked.

"You'll know."

With that, I pulled down my mask, grabbed my revolver, and ran out of cover.

Spidey-Sense gave me a bit of warning about the sniper, so I could jump out of the way before a shot hit me.

I reached down on one of those jumped, grabbed a bunch of snow, and held my revolver between my teeth as I made a snow ball, never stopping in my approach.

My enhanced senses could pick up on some people screaming in German, and soon soldiers were trying to shoot me, but I dodged those bullets too.

I threw the snowball as hard as I could at the sniper, and I saw it hit him in the face. I took advantage of the opening and jumped as hard as I could, landing on a roof. From there, I jumped from roof to roof, not even looking as I dodged away from the bullets of the soldiers that tried to chase me.

I spat out the revolver onto my hand, and I started running up the side of the church.

The sniper, to his credit, didn't even hesitate, he just aimed down with his rifle and show down, but I kept dodging.

I shot a web to his rifle, pulled it out of his hands, and shot at him.

He dove inside for cover, but with some Web Lines, I was up in his nest as he tried to pull out a pistol for short-range shooting. I pulled that from his hand as well, and I aimed my revolver at his head.

"You did your best," I said, in my shitty German.

"Go fuck a dog," he replied in equally shitty English.

I shrugged, and I shot him.

It wasn't my first kill. It was my nineteenth, and I barely felt like throwing up or keeping count any more.

I grabbed the sniper's corpse, closed his eyes, webbed his rifle to him, and threw him as hard as I could from his own nest and into the woods I'd just left.

Then, I jumped from the church and went to support my squad.

Spider-Man was a scary son of a bitch. Captain James Wolf knew this as a fact of life.

The first time he met the man, in that goofy mask and with a white spider painted over his heart, he'd almost thought it was some kind of joke.

This clown? He had to take orders from this clown?

And then, he saw Spider-Man catch a grenade mid-air and toss it back before they could even process that they were under attack.

Then, he saw Spider-Man ran up at a sniper and throw him back at his squad so they knew to enter the town.

Then, he saw Spider-Man punch an enemy soldier so hard his head exploded.

After freeing the town, the locals threw a party. As far as parties went, it was very subdued. Someone played a violin, someone handed out some shitty French beer, and everyone tried to believe their problems were done now that the krauts were gone.

Well, every local did, at least.

O'Hara was dancing with Goldstein, making some of the local women laugh, Samson, Brook and DeWitt were showing some local kids how to play poker, even though none of them spoke a lick of French, and Spider-Man...

Wolf raised an eyebrow.

Spider-Man was sitting with his back to the church wall, holding a glass of beer, around five feet above the ground.

The masked soldier wasn't drinking, but his mask was pulled up to the nose. Wolf thought he could see him whispering something, his lips barely moving.

James could also see there were three local girls, barely out of their teens if he was any judge, whispering amongst themselves and giving them looks.

Ah, hell. Comand had told him not to let him seem too scary, even if he was. Maybe he should do something?

Grabbing his own glass of shitty french beer, he approached the Spider.

"Not one for parties?" he asked.

James was amused when he saw him stat, and sheepishly slide down the wall. For someone that could feel a bullet coming before the other guy pulled the trigger, he wasn't very aware of his surroundings.

"Not really," he admitted. "I was just, um, apologizing."

The trio was obviously listening in, with one of them whispering translations to the other two.

"For what? To whom?"

"For killing, and to God, I suppose?" the Spider took a sip of shitty beer and winced. "It's funny, I never prayed until I came here."

"No atheists in a foxhole," James quoted. Something his old Captain'd told him. "Kinda weird to apologize for killing krauts, though."

"Oh, they definitely deserved it," the Spider admitted. "But murder's murder, no matter who or why. I don't think I'll go to Hell for killing nazis, but I'm not going to celebrate it."

That seemed fair enough to James. He never liked working with soldiers that cheered and cherished every kill. There was something off about those people.

The kind that joined the army not because it was right, but because it was a way to get away with killing as many people as possible.

One of the girls took a deep breath, and almost ran forward, until she was in front of them. "Sir?"

Spider-Man said some French gibberish, and the girl smiled with relief, before saying some more French stuff. She handed the Spider something, and he said, "Mercy."

Why was he asking for mercy?

The girl blushed prettily, and marched off, looking like she was walking on air.

"What was that about? Why'd you ask for mercy?" James asked.

"I said 'merci', it means thanks in French," the Spider said, smiling. Bah, not like French was a real language. "And she wanted to give me something she spent the whole day making."

He showed James what the girl gave him. A pendant, with a white wooden spider hanging from it.

"Huh," James took a sip of his shitty beer. "Nice of her."

"Yup," the Spider put on the pendant. "Don't quote me on this, but I think she might be slightly infanuated with me."

James snorted. "What tipped you off? The blush or the gifts?"

The Spider laughed and drank his beer, wincing at the taste.

"Frenchmen," James sighed. "Can't brew beer for shit."

"All beer tastes like piss smells to me," the Spider admitted. "Just felt awkward being the only one not drinking."

That just wasn't right.

"When we go back home for leave, I'm taking you drinking," James decided. "Not right for a man to fight for freedom without having tried good beer."

"Is that so?" the Spider asked, obviously amused. "Fair enough. I'll take you up on that."

James decided that maybe, just maybe, Spider- No, Fletcher- wasn't that bad a guy.

Jake, that already liked the Captain, decided to actually put in an effort when they went drinking.

Captain James Wolf caught a bullet between the eyes on the next town they visited.

Shore leave was a bittersweet thing.

The squad all went home. I went to see a man about a drug.

"Super Solider Serum, huh?" I chuckled. "Bit of a mouthful."

I was walking beside Doctor Erskine through the training camp, overseeing the soldiers-to-be.

I was wearing most of my regular uniform, except the mask. My coat was open in such a way that the spider symbol was hidden, but easily accessible if I wanted to make a dramatic revealt.

Under my coat, a simple waistcoat-shirt-tie combo. Also, black gloves. Even spider powers can't protect you from bruised knuckles.

"So, how long until the serum's ready?"

"Not too long," Eskrine said. "Just needs some more testing."

"And how exactly is it being tested?"

"... at a great cost," the doctor admitted.

"Hm," I knew what he meant.

I still remembered some things about the comics. The serum wasn't great at a start, a lot of people of color were sacrificed for it.

"I expect," I slowly said. "That after all this is over, some uncomfortable truths about what had to be done for the war to be won came to air.

"More than that; I expect that anyone involved with that great cost knows that keeping things quiet will come at an even greater cost."

I gave Eskrine a look, and the man shuddered. "Right?"

"Yes! Yes, of course."

"Good man," I patted his back, and approached a group of recruits doing jumping jacks.

A group that had a skinny kid that was already panting for breath.

"Sir!" the Drill Sergant saluted me, and I returned the gesture. Every official knew who I was, but I'd asked them to keep it quiet.

"These your recruits, huh?" They'd stopped jumping to look at me, except for Rogers. "Not a single pretty face among the ladies, I see."

I could tell a few already didn't like me, but Rogers didn't even acknowledge me. He just kept excersicing, until he finished his set, and he fell on his ass, red-faced and panting for breath.

The Drill Sergeant almost started shouting at him, but I stopped him with a gesture.

"You're out of breath, maggot?" he didn't look at me. "Tired, perhaps? Would you like a cool glass of lemonade and a parasol? We understand if your puny behind needs a break."

He still didn't look at me, he just tried to get to his feet.

"You are, without a doubt, the single most pathetic weakling I've ever had the disgrace of laying eyes on." I spat. "Do us all a favor, get your shit, and leave, maggot!"

He climbed to his feet, tilted his head up to look me in the eyes, and stared me down.

'Oh, hell,' I thought, as a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. 'I already like this one.'

"What's your name, princess?"

"Steve Rogers, sir!"

"Hm," I smiled, before I pulled off my coat. "Sergeant, do you mind?"

"Not at all, sir!" he said, taking it from my hands with a bit of reverence.

I rolled up my sleeves, and I gestured with my head for the soldiers to follow.

"We're going to have a little test!" I shouted at them. "You're all going to work together to hit me, and I'm going to hit you until stay down. One hit on me, and this stops. You all get extra rations and an extra thirty minutes of sleep. Doesn't that sound good?"

From the fire burning behind their eyes, it clearly did. Even Rogers looked extra motivated.

I adjusted my gloves and I smiled. "Whenever you feel like it."

Of course, I took each one with a single hit to the stomach before they could even come close to hitting me.

They all rushed me like idiots. Then I took down five in a second, and they started trying to coordinate.

The only one that stayed back, and thus the only one still concious, was Rogers.

"What are you waiting for, maggot?"

"Nothing," he replied, and rushed me. Surprisingly, he almost dodged when I punched him in the face.

"Good for you," I smiled, and started walking away. Then I stopped and look back to see Rogers, a bruise already forming over his eye, getting up and getting in a boxing position. "Oh?"

"I could do this all day."

I barked out a laugh. "I don't doubt it."

It took twenty seven more hits until he was too fucked up to get back on his feet, and he still tried to grab my ankle when I walked away.

I unrolled my sleeves, took the coat from the Sergeant with a grateful nod, and put it on.

I turned around, saw Rogers struggling to keep his chin up, and smiled down him. "Yeah, you definitely got what it takes."

He frowned with confusion, and I chuckled.

I showed him the spider symbol, saw his unbruised eye widen, and then he passed out.

I walked back to Eskrine, "I like him. He's your Super Soldier."

"I knew you would." We walked together some more, and when we were about to enter the base, he asked me, "You took it easy on him, right?"

"Are you nuts? I hit him harder than everyone else!"

Steve was very, very nervous.

For one, he was shirtless in front of Ms. Carter. He knew he wasn't much to look at, so there was a bit of embarrasment there too.

Plus, there were all this important people looking down at him. He was just a kid from Brooklyn, how did he end up in this situation?

He hissed a little when the metal bars tightened over one of the bruises that hadn't healed yet from his encounter with the Spider-Man.

The Spider-Man! Steve still had trouble believing he'd met the legendary soldier.

Granted, if he had had any say on the matter, he would have preffered it involved less beatings, but then the Spider had told him he had what it takes!

Had he meant the Super Soldier program? Did he know about it?

The capsule closed around Steve, and soon the questions were ignored in favor of the all-consuming pain.

When it opened, everything felt better defined. When he inhaled, it felt like he was breathing for the first time in his life.

He barely realized someone asked how he felt.

"Taller," he said, and immidiately felt stupid about it.

He looked down at himself.

He never had muscles before.

He kinda liked it.

He looked up, to see Doctor Eskrine smilling down on him. He smiled back.

Steve's newly-sharpened senses caught sight of the man pulling a weapon behind the good doctor with a determined expression. He tried to shout a warning, but he knew it'd be too-

A single grey line, coming from somewhere on the ceiling, caught the assassin's wrist and pulled the weapon away from the doctor. The shot rang loudly, almost deafening, but it only hit concrete.

"Naughty," a familiar voice chided, pulling the assassin into the celing. Soon, blood curling screams rang through the room. Steve turned around and saw the Spider-Man standing on the ceiling, his hand on the assassin's mouth. The assassin's hands clawed at the Spider's arm, but eventually the superhuman wrapped the assassin in webs and left him hanging upside down and bleeding from the mouth.

"Was that truly necessary?" Eskrine sighed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the Spider-Man crushed the teeth in his hand, and opened it to show white foam emerging from one of them. "Next time I stop an assassin gunning for you, how about I take the time to take off my gloves and feel around the inside of his mouth so I can tell which molar has a cyanide capsule?"

Eskrine looked at him for a moment, before nodding. "Fair enough."

The Spider took off his gloves, even the one that wasn't dirty, pulled another pair from his coat, and fixed them on before stretching a hand to Rogers. "Welcome to the army, Rogers. Hope you do well."

Steve had mixed feelings about the Spider-Man.

"... and if I find out you're wasting him on shows for morale, I'll take your spine!" I said, as I bid General Whatever goodbye.

It took the plane a while, but eventually, it left me on some snowy Canadian mountains.

I'd asked Eskrine to keep an ear out for extraordinary people like while I fought, and he mentioned rumours of an immortal man in Canada. Naturally, I came to investigate.

And now I was at the entrance of the cave, with a furlined version of my classic coat.

"That ain't no man up there," a man from a nearby town had told me. He'd been the only one to meet the immortal and survive, but not without three scars that ran across his chest. "That's a beast."

"Maybe," I'd replied. "But at the moment we're in need of beasts."

I walked through the cave, revolver in hand. I could hear growling and chewing from further in.

The sunlight reflected from snow outside shone in, and let me see James Howlett, eating raw chunks out of a dead animal in all his naked, blood-covered glory.

I whistled. "Damn. Waste not, want not, huh?"

He turned and snarled at me. He must've known I was coming, from smell, but didn't think I'd have the balls to talk to him.

"Nice to meet you," I said cheerily. "Folks call me Spider-Man. You are?"

He snarled and jumped for me, bone claws emerging from between his fingers.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

One bullet in each shoulder and one in the middle of his chest.

James falls backwards, bleeding profusely. I watch as the bullets pop out of his chest, and he starts breathing again.

"Hm, it really is you."

Having confirmed that, I smash his head into a wall, cover him in webs, and walk back into the town.

He comes to as I sit him down in front of me in a bar, webs redone so he's bound together with only one hand free.

"Two pints of your finest beer, please," I tell the bartender, with my mask pulled up and my mouth set in a charming smile. "So, Mister Immortal. I believe we got off in the wrong foot."

He growled at me.

"I know you understand me, so please cut that out."

He stops growling, but keeps glaring as two beers are shakily set between us.

I take a sip out of mine, and wince. "I can never find a beer that I like, but I keep trying."

James is already halfway down his, head tilted back.

"Not a problem for you, I see."

He finishes it, drops it on the table, burps loudly, and goes back to glaring at me. "What do you want?"

I smiled brightly. "Ah! Quite simple. I want to ask for your help in killing nazis."

"What's that?"

"Germans. They're trying to take over the world, along some other countries, and the rest of the world took exception to that. I want you to join me and someone else in a special team designed to kick the crap out of them."

"Sounds fun. What do I get out of it?"

"Money, booze, cigars, and probably sex if you find someone that doesn't mind the whole 'surly savage' look you've got going on."

He thinks it over.

"Sure."

"Great! Want me to cut you free?"

He pulls out his claws and does it himself.

"Fair enough," I signal the bartender. "Another round for my friend, and maybe some pants."

"Why pants?" James asks.

"... You're naked, man."

"What?!"

James was getting used to his name.

The Spider had given it to him, when he admitted he couldn't remember his own. It wasn't a bad name, but it could be better.

Spider joked that he could always adopt James, so he'd be James Fletcher. James didn't think that sounded so bad.

"Open fire!" Rogers roared, and their squad immediately followed his order.

The Howling Comandos. That's what they were calling them, according to Rogers.

The Howling Comandos, led by Captain America, The Spectacular Spider-Man and the Wolverine.

That's another name he was getting used to. The Wolverine.

Right now, they were assaulting a stronghold of Hitler's where he'd been experimenting with vampires, of all things.

It'd started raining two hours ago.

The vampires came out one hour ago.

They'd caught them unaware, as they infiltrated the underground laboratory. Suddenly, undead monsters were bursting out of the walls, trying to kill them.

It's only because of Spider-Man's Spidey Sense that they survived. The man burst into action, pulling one of the stakes he'd filled his pocket with before the mission and running it through every undead heart within reach.

They'd spent the last hour fighting for their lives, climbing out of the lab, killing every monster on the way, undead or not.

"There's no such thing as vampires, Jake," Spider-Man muttered, in a mocking copy of Rogers' voice. "We don't need neck armor."

"I GET IT!" Rogers shouted, slamming his shield into the head of a nazi. "Next time, we'll listen to you!"

"GOOD!" that statement was puncutated by a vampire getting kicked through a wall, into another vampire, and a stake being thrown hard enough it pierced both their hearts.

James didn't say anything, he just kept fighting. Maybe a few roars here and there.

"See, James agrees with me," Spider-Man muttered, smashing his fist through a vampire's head when it tried to bite him.

Eventually, they made it out of the laboratory, and started running for the woods. By then, Spider-Man had used up all his stakes, and even Rogers looked winded.

"We need to destroy all the vampires!" Rogers shouted.

"I know! I have a plan!" the Spider shouted back. "Everyone follow me and gather around!"

They did so, and they waited with bated breath as the rain washed down on them.

"Other, mother of all Spiders, hear my prayer," Spider-Man whispered, clutching his spider-shaped pendant.

"This isn't the time for prayer, Spider-Man!" Rogers shouted.

"Oh, I beg to differ." A greasy voice said.

James was really tired of all the people that could sneak past his senses.

A man, wearing a long black coat, approached, smirking smugly. "You've fought valiantly, but it was for naught. While many of my children have been destroyed, it is only a matter of time before we recuperate their numbers, and soon the world will fall under the glorious German rule!"

Spider-Man kept praying.

"You will join my children, and then- AHHHHHHH!"

The vampires, which were surrounding the Howling Comandos, all burst into flames.

Spider-Man, that had his hands in a spider shape, curled them into fists with both middle fingers extended. "Amen, and fuck you."

"What did you do?"

"I asked my pal Spider Jesus to bless the water the storm clouds are made of," Spider-Man laughed, as the vampires burned. The one that had been speaking wasn't on fire, but it looked like he was being melted with acid.

"You think this is enough to stop me?! I AM DRA-"

Spider-Man picked up a tree and threw it at him, smashing him into another one.

"A bit oversized, but I think it works as a stake."

James couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. The Comandos soon joined him.

I smiled at the picture hanging from my wall. It showed me without my mask, arms wrapped around Rogers (who looked dazed and had a spot of red lipstick on his cheek from Peggy Carter) and James (who was smiling with a cigar on his mouth and his face covered in red spots of lipstick from the many women he'd wooed that night). I was smiling so hard my eyes closed, and it was obvious I'd dragged them to get their picture.

I think that picture was taken three weeks after I killed Dracula? Or was it after the giant robot with the big laser?

"Ah," I sighed. "Simpler times."

I was an old man, now. Spider powers hadn't abandoned me, so I looked better than most 95-year-old men, but I was still old, and a life-time of fighting had left me using a cane.

Granted, that was mostly so I could surprise people when I used it as a weapon and walked perfectly without it.

The look on Peter's face, that first day of his training, had been worth the years of carrying it around. Ben and I still laugh about it from time to time.

A knock rang out, and I opened the door to see an old friend, staring at me with a hanging jaw. He probably expected me to look just like he remembered it, since James said he visited him first.

"Rogers, you little shit," I laughed. "What took you so long?"

(Eventually, we sat down, and talked about the good old days. About adjusting to home after the war. But that's a story for another time.)