Dr. Strange and Peter sat together at the table, sharing a meal that the Sorcerer Supreme himself had prepared. The aroma of the food filled the room, a rare moment of calm amidst their chaotic lives.
"That person who was following you has been dealt with," Dr. Strange said casually, taking a sip of his tea.
"Thank you," Peter replied, nodding appreciatively as he savored the meal.
Peter began, his eyes scanning the ancient tomes lining the shelves. "Hey, Dr. Strange. Mind if I take a look at some of these books?"
Dr. Strange glanced up, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. "Magic, Peter? Is that what you're into now?"
Peter shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "You could say that."
"Well, to answer your question. No," Dr. Strange replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I know how clever you are, kid, and that's exactly why I can't let you near these. One wrong move, and you might accidentally trigger a spell you can't undo."
The sorcerer's mind raced with the potential consequences. He had seen firsthand the dangers of dabbling in magic, and Peter's relentless nature only heightened his concern.
The kid was brilliant, yes, but also impulsive. Dr. Strange could easily imagine Peter pushing himself too far, risking everything in the process. He wasn't about to let that happen.
Peter noticed the seriousness in Dr. Strange's expression and quickly shifted gears, eager to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. So, what about you? Who've you taken down this month?"
"A few monsters trying to escape their dimensions," Dr. Strange answered, his tone calm but firm. "And I should remind you the biggest crime syndicate in the overworld still wants you dead."
"Yeah, I know," Peter said, his expression darkening slightly. "Ever since I ruined their deal with Hydra."
"What are your plans now?" Dr. Strange asked, his piercing gaze fixed on Peter.
"Keep being Spider-Man," Peter replied without hesitation. "It's what I do."
"Good luck," Dr. Strange said, a hint of admiration in his voice.
After finishing the meal, Peter stood to leave. As he headed for the door, Dr. Strange called after him, "Stay out of trouble, Peter."
"I'll try," Peter said with a grin. "Thanks for everything. See you later."
Dr. Strange watched as Peter exited the Sanctum Sanctorum, a faint smile playing on his lips. Clad in the clothes Dr. Strange had provided, Peter made his way back home, ready to tackle the next challenge: dealing with a few corrupt individuals and reclaiming their ill-gotten gains.
When Peter arrived home, he wasted no time. He headed straight to the basement, a space filled with advanced technology and a massive container holding his web fluid reserves. He walked over to his workbench, placing his suit on it and carefully removing the web shooters.
After a quick trip upstairs to toss the suit into the washing machine, Peter returned to the basement to inspect his web shooters. It had been a while since he'd last checked them, and he knew better than to let maintenance slide.
As he opened one of the shooters, he let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness I checked these. If I hadn't, I'd have been cooked," he muttered to himself, noticing how the mechanism could have caused the web fluid to jam.
"Hmm," Peter pondered for a moment before deciding to discard both shooters. He had plenty of spares, after all.
Next, he pulled out his new suit, crafted from Kevlar. It bore a striking resemblance to his current one but with a crucial upgrade: bulletproof capabilities. Peter ran his fingers over the sleek material, a small smile forming on his face. Ready for whatever came next, he began preparing for the night ahead.
Later that night, Spider-Man stood perched on a rooftop in Hell's Kitchen, his crimson-and-blue suit blending into the shadows. His target? Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. This wasn't just about justice, it was personal. After all, Kingpin had ordered a hit on him, and Peter wasn't about to let that slide.
'If he wants me dead, I'll make sure he ends up with nothing, no money, no power, no empire,' Peter vowed silently, his jaw tightening beneath the mask. Tonight, he wasn't just Spider-Man; he was a man on a mission.
From his vantage point, Peter scanned the streets below, his sharp eyes searching for anyone who might be connected to Kingpin's operations. It didn't take long for him to spot a group of men loading crates into a van. He wasn't entirely sure they were working for Fisk, but their nervous energy and hushed tones screamed trouble.
He leaned closer, his enhanced hearing picking up their conversation.
"Hurry up! We don't have all night. Daredevil's been spotted around here lately," one of them barked.
"We're trying! This stuff is heavy," another grumbled.
"Don't screw this up, or we're all dead," the first man snapped.
Spider-Man didn't wait for more. In one swift motion, he dropped from the rooftop, webbing up two of the men and slamming them to the ground with a loud *thud*. The third man, clearly the leader, froze in place.
Spider-Man grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off his feet. "Do you work for Kingpin?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
The man spat in Spider-Man's face. "Go to hell," he snarled.
Without hesitation, Spider-Man slammed him into the ground, the impact forcing a pained cough and a trickle of blood from the man's lips.
"You… won't get anything out of me," the man wheezed, glaring defiantly.
"Really?" Spider-Man tilted his head, his tone chillingly calm. "Let's test that."
One by one, Spider-Man broke the man's fingers, the sickening *cracks* echoing in the quiet alley. The man's screams of agony were so loud that even the webbed-up thugs began to stir, their eyes widening in horror at the scene.
"You… won't break me," the man gasped through gritted teeth. "This is just… temporary pain."
Spider-Man leaned in, his voice dripping with menace. "Oh, so you're challenging me? Fine. Let's switch things up. How about I strip you naked, record a little video, and upload it for the whole world to see? Or maybe I'll just leave you tied up in the middle of Times Square for everyone to laugh at. Your call."
The man's bravado faltered, his face paling. "You… you wouldn't. Spider-Man doesn't do that."
In response, Spider-Man pulled him close and whispered something into his ear something so disturbing that the man's defiance crumbled instantly.
"Okay, okay! I work for Kingpin!" the man blurted out, his voice trembling.
"Good. Now tell me where your base is," Spider-Man demanded.
The man quickly rattled off an address, his voice shaking with fear. Spider-Man released him, letting him crumple to the ground.
"Be grateful I'm in a good mood tonight," Spider-Man said, his tone icy. "If I were in my black suit, you'd be begging for something much worse."
The thugs exchanged confused glances, muttering among themselves about the mysterious "black suit." But Spider-Man was already gone, swinging through the night toward the location he'd been given.
Minutes later, he arrived at a secluded warehouse, its dim lights casting long shadows across the empty lot. Spider-Man crouched on a nearby rooftop, his eyes narrowing as he studied the building.
'This is it,' he thought, a grin spreading beneath his mask. 'Time to burn it all down.'
The thrill of the hunt coursed through him as he prepared to dismantle Kingpin's empire, one warehouse at a time.
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I have been rebirthed, and this is another try at writing a story. If you like the story so far, you can sub to my Patreon for advanced chapters.
Right now, we're at Chapter 10.
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Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the start. See you later!