Underground Fighting Arena
"So, let me get this straight," Peter said, voice wavering just a bit, "if I fight and win, I get three thousand dollars? Like, actual cash?"
The promoter barely looked up, sizing Peter up with a smirk. "That's right, kid. Three grand, if you don't get flattened first."
Peter squared his shoulders, trying to look tougher than he felt. "Alright. I'm in."
The promoter snorted, shaking his head. "You sure about that, string bean? You look like you'd snap in half if the wind blows too hard. Shouldn't you be home with your mom, doing your homework or something?"
A couple of nearby fighters laughed, eyeing Peter's slim frame and nervous energy.
Peter forced a smile, swallowing his nerves. "Guess we'll find out. Maybe I'll surprise you."
The man rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure, kid. Try not to bleed all over the mat. We just mopped."
The promoter leaned in, eyeing Peter with a crooked grin. "So, what's your name, kid?"
Peter hesitated, voice barely above a mumble. "Ahh… Human Spider."
The promoter blinked, unimpressed. "Seriously?" He scribbled something on the entry sheet with a sigh. "Alright, suit yourself."
Backstage, Peter pulled on his tattered red mask, nerves jangling as the muffled roar of the crowd seeped through the walls. The arena lights blazed as he stepped out, the announcer's booming voice echoing off the concrete.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, anyone who can last three minutes with our undefeated champion, Big Mac, will walk away with three thousand dollars cash!"
The crowd erupted as a mountain of a man stomped into the ring, flexing for the cameras.
The announcer glanced at his card, squinting. "And in the left corner… uh… the Human… Spider…? Wait, is this right? Spider-Man?"
The crowd snickered. Peter winced under his mask, but squared his shoulders and stepped forward.
Big Mac towered over Peter in the center of the ring, cracking his knuckles and grinning for the crowd. The bell clanged, and Big Mac charged, swinging a massive fist meant to end things immediately.
Peter's spider-sense tingled, he ducked under the punch with ease, sliding to the side as Big Mac's fist slammed into the ropes. The crowd roared. Big Mac spun, swinging again, but Peter flipped backward, landing lightly and grinning behind his tattered mask.
"Hold still, you little bug!" Big Mac bellowed, launching a barrage of heavy blows. Peter weaved and dodged, moving with impossible speed and agility-rolling, ducking, even cartwheeling between Big Mac's wild swings. The champion's fists cut only air, his frustration growing with every miss.
The crowd started to laugh and cheer as Peter bounced off the ropes, somersaulted over Big Mac's head, and landed behind him. Big Mac turned, red-faced and panting.
"You little runt! You're nothing but a damn scrawny-ass punk! What the hell you think you're doin' out here, swinging around like some kinda freak? You ain't shit! You're just a weak-ass kid who should crawl back to his mama's skirt and cry like the little bitch you are!"
The words hit Peter like a slap. His eyes narrowed behind the mask. The arena seemed to go silent as he stepped forward, planting his feet. Big Mac swung one last, desperate punch.
Peter caught it.
With a single, dramatic motion, Peter clenched his fist and let his spider strength surge. He delivered a lightning-fast uppercut-Big Mac's feet left the mat as he crashed backward, landing flat on his back with a thunderous thud.
The crowd erupted in shock and awe as Big Mac lay motionless, eyes rolling. Peter stood over him, chest heaving, the announcer's stunned voice echoing: "Winner… Spider-Man!"
Peter glanced at his fist, still trembling with adrenaline.
After the fight, Peter approached the promoter to collect his prize money, expecting the full $3,000.
The promoter eyed him coolly and slid over a wad of bills-only $100. "Here's your cut," he said flatly.
Peter blinked in disbelief. "Wait, what? I was supposed to get three thousand!"
The promoter shrugged. "Yeah, but the deal was you had to last three full minutes, Web Head. You won in less than two, so you only get a partial payout. Rules are rules."
Peter approached the promoter's table, clutching his mask and the $100, frustration clear on his face. "I need that money," Peter said, voice tense.
The promoter barely looked up, sneering. "I missed the part where that's my problem."
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but the promoter's grin turned sharp. "Trust me, kid, you take this and get out. Otherwise, we'll be taking that hundred back too-and maybe a little extra for the trouble."
Peter clenched his jaw, but realized there was no point arguing. He turned and headed for the exit.
Suddenly, chaos erupted-a robber burst into the arena office, gun drawn, snatching wads of cash and shoving people aside. The promoter shouted, "Stop that guy! Somebody stop him!"
Peter stepped aside as the robber sprinted past, inside the elevator.
The promoter caught up with him, voice sharp and accusing.
"What the hell's wrong with you, huh? You just stood there—you could've dropped that damn thief!"
Peter stopped, turned slowly, and met the promoter's glare with cool defiance."I missed the part where that's my problem."
—
As Peter made his way home, the night's events weighed heavily on his mind. Turning a corner, he suddenly saw Uncle Ben walking toward him, hands in his coat pockets, unaware of the chaos unfolding nearby. In that same moment, the robber Peter had let escape from the arena came sprinting down the street, clutching a bag of stolen cash.
People following him shouted, "Hey, stop him! He's the robber!" The commotion drew Uncle Ben's attention just as the thief barreled straight toward him. Uncle Ben instinctively stepped forward, trying to block the robber's path. The two collided and tumbled to the pavement.
The robber scrambled to his feet, face twisted in anger. "Get the hell out of my way, old man!" he spat, shoving Uncle Ben down again. As Uncle Ben struggled to rise, the robber pulled a gun, pointing it directly at him, the threat unmistakable.
The crowd's shouts faded into a tense hush as Peter, frozen in shock, watched the scene unfold-realizing too late the terrible consequence of his earlier choice
The gunshot rang out-boom!-followed instantly by the metallic clang as a bullet ricocheted off the pavement mere inches from the fallen old man. Before anyone could react, a blur of darkness dropped from above, landing with predatory grace between the robber and his target.
The newcomer was a terrifying silhouette, clad head-to-toe in a sleek, black suit that seemed to swallow the streetlights. A featureless mask hid his face, and the air around him seemed to ripple with menace. Without a word, he moved-fast as a shadow-delivering a brutal kick that sent the gun flying and shattered the robber's right arm with a sickening crack.
The crowd froze, stunned by the sudden, almost inhuman intervention. The black-clad figure stood over the whimpering robber, radiating an aura so cold and dangerous that even the bravest onlookers dared not step closer.
Fury consumed him as he lifted the robber by the throat, his grip tightening until the man's face turned a deep shade of blue. But before Evan's wrath could cross the line, Uncle Ben's calm, pleading voice stopped him.
"Please stop it, son. You will kill him."
At those words, Evan released the robber, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. The distant wail of police sirens grew louder. Without a word, Evan melted into the shadows, vanishing in an instant, leaving only a chilling silence behind.
Peter rushed to Uncle Ben's side, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Uncle Ben… I'm so sorry…"
Uncle Ben managed a gentle smile, wincing as he sat up. "Why are you sorry, Peter? It was my mistake. I got a call from Aunt May saying you and Evan weren't home yet, so I came looking for you."
He glanced around, lowering his voice. "And let's not tell Aunt May about this little adventure, alright? It'll be our secret."
Peter nodded, then hesitated. "Uncle Ben… why did you try to stop that man? He was dangerous."
Uncle Ben looked at him, eyes kind but serious. "Because, Peter, every life is precious. If you have the power to help someone, you shouldn't stand by and do nothing. Power is a gift, but it's also a responsibility. Always remember-" He placed a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "With great power comes great responsibility."
Overwhelmed, he nodded silently, realizing the truth and gravity behind his uncle's advice.
This moment became the foundation for Peter's values, guiding him to use his powers selflessly and shaping his destiny as SpiderMan, a hero defined by responsibility and the resolve to protect others, no matter the personal cost.
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A/N: Show your response in the comments. Don't forget power stones.😶🌫️