Chapter Text
Now Peter Benjamin Parker was a really smart guy--- scratch that Peter was a goddamn NERD-- and proud of it. He loved science: chemistry, biology, physics, the whole shebang. He was one of the best students on campus. Nevermind he was only 21 and only had a year left to go, beating the standard of 5-6 years in college. He got a lot of shit for it too. He was the scrawny little nerd with glasses alway carrying a heavy bag and papers in his hands. Guys loved to grab the papers and scatter them or make Peter fall over. Not that he minded it’s been the same since high-school.
Ah, high school. Peter had lots of bittersweet memories of it. Most of it about being stuffed in a locker, pushed around, tripped, beaten up, etc. Some of it he’d rather not remember. But the spider bite changed his life. Now by day he was little nerd Peter Parker, but at night he was the amazing Spider-man. If only the guys following him knew that.
This had become almost a weekly occurrence, Peter would be followed by some guys from school, but this time was a bit different. (More like totally different) [Hush I’m reading.] He’d stayed late in the lab that Aunty May had called. “PETER BENJAMIN PARKER! Get yourself home right now or so help me I’ll come get you myself!” He’d lost track of time, he checked his watch and swore. It was almost 11pm! He panicked and rushed to put away equipment and chemicals. His spider-sense had tingled with her words and it rung as he gathered his things, locked up and left campus, and all down the few blocks he ran. It didn’t make much difference to him, it always seemed to ring when he was out alone, especially this late at night.
He was trying to make his way home, when he’s suddenly pulled into an alley. His sense continued to ring when a gun is placed on his forehead. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. A guy in thick dark clothes and a black mask and beanie was holding a pistol to his head. Around him were five other guys, one holding a pipe, another a long knife, another a chain, one cracked his brass knuckles, and one had a baseball bat. “What do we got here, fellas?” the guy with the gun says. His breath is thick with smoke and alcohol. “A fucking twank.” the guy with the pipe cackles. “True. true. And what do we do with little twanks like this?” the guy with the gun asks. “Have fun.” the guy with the chain says darkly. The other laughed and joked. His mind raced. Options: 1. Beat the guys up. Not good 2. See what they want. Most likely will end up with him dead. 3. Scream for help. Hope someone calls the cops or comes help or he gets beaten. He breaks out of his thoughts as the guys close in. He waits, but shifts his position ever so slightly. Then suddenly the guy holding a gun to his head gets his head sliced clean off.
Peter backs up as quickly as possible, but still gets blood on his over-sized jacket and face. He slumps against the alley wall, legs unmoving as he watches some guy, who’s just a red, black and silver blur, cut down the remaining guys. They ignore him and focus on the new guy. The new guy easily dodges their attacks and cuts through them. The guy with the pipe has his arms cut off just before the elbow, then his legs are cut from under him above the knees, finally his head is sliced off as he screams in agony. The others falter, but the guy with the swords goes after them. The guy with the knife tries to defend himself, but he’s sliced at the gut and his intestines start falling out as he clutches at them, he coughs up blood. The guy with the chains tries to hit the guy with them as he swings them screaming, “Fucking son of a bitch! Die! Fucking die!” he manages to get a few hits but the guy is quicker and slices his arm clean off and then slices him in half. The guy with the bat goes for a swing as he finishes slicing through, catching the guy in the side. He’s knocked but recovers and pierces the guy straight through a lung and his gut. He chokes as he falls. The guy with the brass knuckles tries to run but he’s run through the chest and then decapitated. When it’s over there’s a man standing in the middle of all the carnage, his shiny twin katanas drip rapidly cooling blood.
The guy starts talking to himself. “Man haven’t had this much fun in ages.” (Hell yeah that was AWESOME!) [It was good and all, but that last one lacked] (Yeah we should’ve done something more fun.) His voice is deep and rough and raspy but somehow light. There some silence and then. “Yeah maybe we should’ve done something more intricate with the last one.” he continued. [Why did we kill those guys again?] (Cuz some cutie was being attacked.) [And we care why?] “Hey it ain’t my fault they were trying to kill some kid.” (Is he even here? Maybe he’ll thank us!) [No he left by now and besides who’d want to thank us anyway?] “Well we’d have to check.” More silence and then he looks down to his blades. (Lots of red.) [Obviously, we just killed five guys] (Oooh can we go out for burgers and fries?) [They wouldn’t be open at this time] -----
Meanwhile, Peter was looking up at the guy in shock. He basically massacred the guys mugging him, and his spidey sense rang like a high screeching whine now. He was still sprawled out by a wall and made a move to get up, which alerted the guy to him still being there. He quickly came out of his rant to turn toward him. The guy was bald, but from what he could see he had a bald and was built really well, tough and hard muscle, but his body was covered in scars. The guy was breathing heavily, his shirt so torn it barely hung on his body, but his piercing blue eyes were focused on him. He slowly came over to him, stepping over bodies and into pools of blood. He crouched down in front of him and he closed his eyes tight in anticipation. Rough hands directed his face back and his eyes snapped open. The guy’s face was inches from his own. The guy smiled at his wide gaze. “Name’s Deadpool, kid.”
Peter’s eyes widened. Holy MotherF***ing shit was he screwed!