A/N: This title was originally published on All Star Marvel. Look it up. Issue 2 is already up. Otherwise, please review. I promise I'll reply to every one. Oh, and if you visit ASM (it's a proboards forum), make sure to check out the "Digital Journal of Peter Parker." It'll give you new insights into the story and Peter's costume design.

The Amazing Spider-Man

#1: Regenesis Part 1

Brand New Day

"Hello, New York!"

A lone young man swung high above the heads of everyday New Yorkers on a thin white line made of a web-like material. His goggles glinted darkly as they adjusted to the sunlight, the transition lenses adapting to hide his eyes from the transcendent glow as his backpack shuddered in the wind. His red web-patterned hood fell back, exposing a similarly patterned half-mask, and his unruly brunet hair.

"And hello, true believers! Name's Peter Parker, but while in costume I go by Spider-Man. Some call me amazing; some call me spectacular; and some even call me friendly neighborhood…er Spider-Man. 'Course if you believe everything you see on Fox News or Daily Bugle Communications, you might call me a menace."

The young Spider-Man landed gracefully onto the side of a billboard plastered with the image of J. Jonah Jameson, a middle-aged man whose flat-topped graying hair and mustache had never been in style. In the picture, Jameson held up an IPad covered with the Daily Bugle headline "Spider-Man: Hero or Menace?" and a clean pic of the masked hero swinging away from a burning building.

"Of course that pic was taken by me—one of the many pix of myself (in costume) I hand over to JJJ for my freelance photographing gig with the Bugle—and of course, nowhere in the article nor in the picture does it mention or show that I happened to have just rescued three kids from that fire. Classic JJJ!"

Police sirens drew the attention of Spider-Man. The masked teen leapt off the billboard and swung away, following two cop cars down the streets of New York. Ahead, a block away, Spidey spotted an armored van powering through car after car.

"Ten months ago, in the fall of my senior year of high school, I was bitten by a freak spider during a field trip to Acme Labs. The spider, as I later learned, had been genetically engineered by a Dr. Miles Warren—since arrested for illegal experimentation—using radioactive chemicals. After the bite, I discovered I'd gained all the abilities of a spider, except for oh-so handy web shooting. Realizing my loss, I built web shooters, and without a moment to lose I decided to do the obvious thing with my newfound powers—make money."

Spider-Man caught up to the racing van and dropped down onto the top of the vehicle with a thump. He heard men inside shout in surprise. The masked teen leaned over the edge of the van, looking into the open driver's side window.

"License and registration, please," Spider-Man quipped, grinning under his half-mask.

"Shit! It's Spider-Man!" the thug driving—a young latino man not much older than the webbed wonder—shouted, before leaning back as his pal in shotgun held up a firearm of the same name.

"'Hello' or 'hey' would've done just fine," Spidey joked, flipping away from the window before the criminal could fire. He landed calmly on the windshield in a three-pronged position.

"So, masked wrestling, show boating, the likes? All pretty far away from crime fighting, right? You're probably wondering how I came to be here, on top of an armored van full of heavily armed criminals, acting like some sort of Captain America wannabe. Truth is, crime fighting was the last thing on my mind at the time. Only after I was screwed out of some money and in my rage let a mugger get away did I learn real responsibility, because as fate would have it, that same mugger went on to shoot my sweet, old uncle Ben later that night, killing him. From that horrible night onwards, I understood the truth behind my late uncle's favorite moral: with great power there must also come great responsibility."

Spider-Man punched a hole through the windshield and pulled the armed thug out, tossing him away and webbing him onto a wall. Spidey's instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive as his ears started ringing, like if he'd been dealt a solid blow to the head.

"That's my spider-sense, probably my handiest power. It's a sixth sense I've got that alerts me to danger before it happens."

Spider-Man spun to the side of the van, sticking on the passenger door, as bullets blasted through the windshield, completely shattering it.

"Y'know, I know a guy who knows a guy who could probably get that fixed for ya at a decent price," Spidey quipped, webbing up the driver's hands and pulling them away, causing the van to swerve to the right, crashing through a light pole.

"DRAGO!" a thug in the back cried.

"The bug's got me!" the driver shouted back, "I can't—"

And he couldn't. The van crashed into an alley, through a few trashcans and finally came to a stop after it broke through a dead end wall.

Drago jumped out of the van before Spider-Man could get him, muttering, "Screw this,"

"He didn't say 'screw.'"

The young thug turned around and aimed a pistol at Spider-Man, who leaned forward on the edge of the roof of the van. Three more armed criminals got out the back, all holding assault rifles.

"We can do this the hard way or the hard way," Spidey said, "What's it gonna be?"

Spider sense! The hero leaped over Drago as he fired, before nimbly kicking him into the ground. The thug didn't get back up.

"The hard way it is," the masked teen declared.

Spidey turned to the remaining criminals, who were already taking off down the alley, dragging a large box between the three of them. The hero sighed.

"They never learn…"

Spider-Man jumped into the air and swung after them, catching the thieves with two full swings. He landed on the wall next to them, and rested on all fours.

"Spider-Man, just back off. Let us go and you don't gotta die," one thug dropped the box and lifted up his rifle.

Spidey frowned, "Guess how many jerkwads have said that to me before."

"And guess who won that fight? Bingo! It was me."

The red-clad hero stood over the three webbed, unconscious bodies of the criminals, now taking the opportunity to look at what they stole. The box was labeled OsCorp. Great. Just what he needed. If OsCorp was involved, then any chance he had of getting in the good graces of the cops was blown, especially after the Connors incident…

"Spider-Man, hands up! Step away from the glider!"

Spidey reluctantly held his hands in the air, turning towards the police officer speaking to him. The woman aimed down her pistol, unwavering.

"Now don't move. I will shoot you if you so much as think about ditching your compatriots—"

"My what?" Spider-Man exclaimed, causing the cop to flinch. He'd make sure not to react so expressively next time, lest he get shot, "Listen, lady, I just knocked these guys out. I know I'm not exactly gonna be invited to Norman Osborn's birthday party, but c'mon!"

"Shut up! Now!"

Two more cop cars pulled up at the end of the alley. The police officer stepped forward. Spidey grunted.

"The whole Lizard-Connors freako thing was partially my fault, yeah, but I swear I had nothing to do with this," Spider-Man promised, "Just let me go."

"Keep your hands up," the cop reached for her handcuffs. Spider-Man sighed, taking the opportunity to fire a webline and rocket into the air. A bullet barely passed by Spidey's leg as he swung away.

"Yeah, that Lizard incident. It's a long story. All that matters now is I got away….

…And I'm late! Horribly, horribly late!"

"Son of a…" Spider-Man muttered as he glanced at his cellphone on the side of a chimney. 11:57. He wasn't gonna make it!

"Aunt May's gonna kill me!" Spidey said, swinging over the streets of Manhattan. "If I'm late to my freshman orientation…." The teen shuddered. His normally kindly aunt got apocalyptic when he missed curfew back in his high school days, so it goes without saying that if he was late to meeting her today of all days she'd explode right then and there. After all, she wasn't the only one he was meeting on campus at ESU…

The eighteen-year-old let himself drop to the roof of Grunhild Hall with a crunch. He was here. It was fine.

"Everything is going to be fine. I mean, this is a new day for me. I'd once been a mild mannered nerd and bookworm but now everything's changed. I am a full-fledged adult. My worst days are behind me. Nothing can go wrong.

"No! No, no, no!" Peter grumbled as he tore through the contents of his backpack, "I swear I put another shirt in here!"

"Well, almost nothing. But that's fine! I can pull off dress shoes, slacks, and a Spider-Man hoodie, right? Right? It doesn't matter. Today is a new day for me. Everything starts anew. As Spider-Man, I'm gonna step up to the big leagues. No more petty crooks and muggers. I'll take on full-fledged supervillains. And as Peter Parker? Well, I'm going to be a new man, a better man. I'm in college after all. Gone are the days of fawning over the shallow Liz Allan or even interacting with the bully Flash Thompson. This is a new beginning for me. Everything's going to change."

"Forget high school."

...

"Yo, Parker!"

Peter shut the door to the stairwell, ignoring the voice calling him. It couldn't be real. There was no way he was gonna see…

Flash Thompson waved to the thin teen, "Hey, Peter Parker!"

Peter had no choice but to make eye contact as Flash pushed through the crowd up to him, "Glad to see you here!"

"Great to see you too, Flash, but—"

"Parker, I want you to meet somebody!" Flash put a hand on Peter's shoulder and led him along through the crowd to a young hispanic man who looked as if he belonged on the Empire State University football team.

"Parker, this is Mark Raxton. He's Liz's cousin and a redshirt freshman for the Warriors," Correctomundo! Peter forced back a chuckle, "Mark, this is that wimpy kid I was telling you about, Peter Parker."

Peter tried not to grumble, but he failed. Flash noticed, and grinned, clapping him on the back. "I'm just teasing, buddy! All jokes and games!"

"That's you," Peter sarcastically muttered, "Jokes and games…"

"Back off, Flash," Mark pushed the blonde's hand away from Peter, before holding his hand out to the brunet. The geeky teen paused, before taking it, smiling. "As the dummy over here said, my name's Mark Raxton. It's nice to meet you."

"Peter Parker…but you know that already," Peter shook his hand, "Nice to meet you too."

"Well, I really hate to seem like I'm ditching you as soon as I meet you, but I've got to go," Mark explained, "I was just telling Flash before he dragged you over, I've got this…football meeting." The large teen glanced away, his cheeks flushed. Peter frowned. He knew when a man was lying, but Mark had genuinely seemed like a nice guy.

"Oh, it's no problem, Mark! Sorry for keeping ya from the field," Flash apologized. He held up two fingers in a 'peace' position, "Go Warriors!"

"Right," Mark half-heartedly mirrored Flash's gesture, the salute of the team's mascot, before walking off.

Flash took no time to turn back to Peter before the shorter teen could run off, "So, Parker, you met your roommate yet?"

"No…" Peter shook his head "No, I haven't. On a kinda similar topic, Flash, aren't you…"

"Leaving?" Flash frowned, "Yeah, I am. I'm heading off to basic training tomorrow. Liz just asked me to go to this shindig with Mark," Peter forced back a 'shindig' joke, "She said something about making sure he stayed. Dunno why, but she was super worried about him. I don't get it. He's got his crap together, know what I mean?"

Peter weakly nodded. Of course. There must be something more to Mark Raxton, especially if Liz was worried. Leave it to Flash to drop the ball, even when it came to his girlfriend. Peter shook the thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Peter had elsewhere he had to be.

"Listen, Flash, I've got to go," Peter said, "My aunt's already gonna kill me for being late as it is."

"Oh yeah, no worries, Parker," Flash patted Peter on the back. The teen flinched. Old habits die hard.

"Bye, Flash. Good luck with…with everything," Peter said.

"Yeah, yeah." Flash paused, before saying, "Oh, and Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Killer sweatshirt, bro," Flash grinned. Peter smiled back, before leaving without another word.

It didn't take long for Peter to find his aunt May. It took even less time for her to blow up at him.

"Peter Benjamin Parker! What on Earth are you doing arriving so late? I've been waiting here for nearly fifteen minutes!" May scolded.

"Sorry, Aunt May," Peter apologized, rubbing the back of his head embarrassedly, "I got caught talking with an old friend."

"I can't imagine this 'old friend' is as important as who we're meeting today," May said.

"No, he's not,'" Peter admitted, as his aunt led him through the crowd.

"And what are you doing in that disgusting sweatshirt? Why aren't you wearing that nice green shirt I laid out for you?" May asked.

"Green isn't exactly my color…" Peter whispered, before saying aloud, "Just forgot it rushing out of the house, Aunt May. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Peter! You remember who we're meeting today! You should look your best for him."

"Aunt May…"

"No, Peter—"

"Aunt May! It's fine!" Peter pointed to a number of tables in the crowded hall, and more specifically to two people sitting at one. The first was a tall red headed boy who looked like the epitome of gothness. His red hair was tinged with black, and his nose was pierced. His nails were painted black, and he wore similarly colored skinny jeans and a button up, which was unbuttoned nearly halfway down, exposing his pale tattooed chest. A chain linked down the sides of his jeans, and skull rings and silver bracelets finished the outfit along his hands and wrists. The second person was a short blonde woman in a business suit.

"No, Peter, you must be mistaken. That can't be…I mean, his father isn't here…"

Peter grinned, shaking his head, "Norman never shows. Plus, I'd recognized Harry Osborn anywhere."

As if saying his name drew his attention, Harry looked up from his cellphone and saw Peter. His face suddenly lit up and he waved. May forced back a gasp. Peter noticed, and tried not to laugh.

"Harry has changed a lot in ten years…" May whispered.

Harry stood up and ran up to Peter. He held out his fist, leaving Peter to bump it, before the two slipped their hands up and down, high-fived one another, and then reversed. The two finished with a gentle chest bump.

No, he hasn't changed too much, Peter thought.

"Peter Parker," Harry chuckled.

"Harry Osborn," Peter returned the laugh in turn, "You remembered our secret hand shake!"

"You kidding? I couldn't forget it!" Harry exclaimed. Peter laughed good-naturedly at the comment, before nodding towards the blonde woman who had been standing with Harry.

"Who's she?"

"Just one of my dad's lackeys. Things haven't changed much since we last saw each other. Norman's still too busy to talk to me, let alone come to one of these things," Harry motioned around. Peter nodded solemnly. He probably shouldn't have brought it up. The mood seemed to instantly darken.

Peter looked to his aunt May, "I've got it from here. You can go, if you want."

"Oh, I know when I'm not wanted," May teased, stepping away.

"No way, Ms. Parker!" Harry spoke up, suddenly cheery again, although Peter swore there was a darkness behind his eyes this time, "You're always welcome!"

May laughed softly, "Oh thank you, Harry, but I think I'll be going now. Bye bye, you two! Have fun! And Peter, you better tell me all about your first day tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah yeah," Peter waved May away, grinning.

Harry laughed a little, "Yeah, not much has changed at all. Your aunt's still as awesome as ever!"

Peter briefly looked Harry over, "You sure nothing's changed?"

Harry met Peter's gaze, frowned, and then blushed. He glanced away. "Oh, Pete…I'm sorry, I forgot about your…"

"No, Harry," Peter gently punched his friend's arm, "I wasn't talking about my uncle. I was talking about [i]you.[/i] I mean, look at you."

"Oh yeah," Harry nodded, and held out his arms, "This." He looked up at Peter, grinning, "Well you haven't changed at all. Still can't put together an outfit of any kind. Slacks and a Spider-Man hoodie?"

"Fashion genius," Peter retorted.

"Keep telling yourself that, Pete."

"Okay, Project Runway, if you know so much, where're the girls flocking to you?" Peter jokingly looked around to emphasize his point.

"Please, Pete," Harry laughed, "I've got game. I just have to turn it on, y'know, like a light switch."

"A light switch?" Peter retorted.

Harry shook his head and turned away from Peter, still grinning. He paused, before turning back around and saying, "So, Pete, if you're gonna give me a hard time then you've gotta have a girlfriend."

"I'm not giving you a hard time, I just—I…"

"No one, huh?"

Peter sighed, and looked down at his feet, "Nah, not yet. Haven't found the right girl is all."

"I take it that means you haven't…" Harry glanced away, "Y'know…?"

"What? Know what?"

Harry cleared his throat.

"You mean—?" Peter blushed, "No! I mean, no, I haven't. I'd like to, sure, but…no, no it hasn't happened yet." The brunet managed to meet his friend's gaze, "What? You have?"

Harry nodded, "Once or twice. Or fifteen times….I lost count. Nothing real, if you get me. Just…hook ups." The teen billionaire looked around, a bit of hope hidden in his eyes, "I'm looking for something a little more serious now."

"Serious? Harry Osborn?" Peter nudged his friend, trying to lighten the mood, "Never!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry weakly pushed Peter's hand away, causing him to frown. "Listen, Pete, there's something I should tell you…"

Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket. The teen held up his hand, quieting Harry. "Sorry, gimme a sec." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. It was a police alert for an armed bank robbery in Midtown. Of course, it had to be a freakin'….

Peter looked up, "Hey, Harry, I've got to go. I'm really sorry, man, but I just…"

"It's cool. Yeah. Whatever," Harry motioned him away.

Peter continued to speak as he backed up, "Seriously, it's really important, otherwise I'd totally…"

"Just go!" Harry fiercely shouted, surprising Peter. The red head looked away, "Just go…"

Peter left without another word.

Yeah, sure, everything had changed. Screw his luck.

...

Inside a darkened room on the outskirts of Manhattan sat a man dressed in a feathery black suit, his face shrouded by darkness. Birds in cages were scattered around the room, all squawking at once, creating a deafening roar of high pitched squeals. The man didn't seem to mind as he relaxed calmly on his throne.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," the man cawed in a gravelly voice. A brown-haired woman dressed in a black suit and skirt marched into the room. She frowned disapprovingly at the uproar around her before bowing down to the shrouded man. He lifted his hand, his gnarly fingernails filed into talons. The birds' cries instantly silenced.

The woman looked up and stated, "Sir, we've just received word that the Oscorp shipment was stopped by…by Spider-Man. All four of your men were captured."

The shrouded figure let out a guttural roar, slamming his fist onto the armrest of his throne.

"Of course! What is this now? The third shipment Spider-Man has stopped?" the man asked rhetorically.

"There is some good news, sir. While we may have lost our Oscorp shipment, we managed to cleanly retrieve the XG-1 serum from Horizon Labs."

"So The Cat came through…" the man said.

"She's as good as they say," the woman agreed.

The man interlaced his fingers as his elbows rested on the throne's armrests. He grinned wickedly, exposing yellowing teeth.

"I think it's clear what we do next. Send The Cat after the harness, and while we're waiting, go ahead and fetch us a…volunteer for our experiments." The man leaned forward, his face finally uncovered from the shadows. He was old and bald, with wrinkles lining down his face, and a nose shaped like a beak. As he laughed, he almost seemed to let out a chirping noise, causing the birds around him to erupt into their chaotic chorus again.

The woman allowed herself a half smile as she nodded, saying, "As you wish."

It was only after his servant left the room did the feather-covered elderly man and his birds finally quiet down. He let out one last cawing giggle, before settling on a maniacal grin.

"Soon, I will stand over the beaten and broken body of Wilson Fisk, his empire crumbling around him, and he will wish he never crossed me! On that day, New York will learn to fear its true kingpin of crime again, cowering in fear at the mere muttering of my name—Adrian Toomes!"

NEXT TIME: Molten hot action and the beginnings of a fiery romance!