Here on, I'm going to be following Marvel Comics Mythology regarding the origins and relations between different pantheons.

"Why you-" Tantalus started saying, but then everyone gasped. Peter looked up, and saw an image projected above his head. It was a spider, coloured green, blue, and red.

OoO

Tantalus was the worst activities director in the history of Camp Half-Blood. There was no debating that. There were admittedly some who were happy when Chiron had been fired, but even they were fed up of Tantalus. Previously, most of the burden of running the camp fell upon Chiron. Mr. D helped out only with the strawberry farms. The camp had been running smoothly for decades, but ever since Chiron was fired and Tantalus was instated as the activities director, the camp's functionalities had gone downhill. The monsters were still attacking, and damage to the camp was becoming worse every day.

One might have argued that Chiron had it easy because of the boosted defences that Thalia's tree provided, but the tree hadn't always been there. It was well known that Tantalus couldn't care less about the life of the campers. That is why, to see Tantalus get owned like that was a treat to most of the witnesses.

Tantalus was pissed off, how dare this upstart, this good for nothing boy think to insult him in front of all these people! He would pay for his insolence. In his rage he would have throttled the kid, to Hades with the consequences, when that symbol, that unknown, unexplainable sign appeared over Peter Parker's head. Then it flickered, and was replaced by a crackling bolt of electricity. If everybody were surprised before, now they were stunned. How could he be claimed twice?

Slowly, everyone in the dining pavilion bowed to Peter. He looked uncomfortable, but still the sight made Tantalus's blood boil.

"Get up, get up, you imbeciles!" Tantalus shouted, and everyone glared at him, but stood. Even Dionysus, who was supposed to be on his side, was silent, looking in his direction curiously. An excited wave of whispers spread in the dining pavilion as everybody sat, still staring at the boy, who stood frozen, shocked. Low murmurs began to ring through the crowd.

Tantalus was now seeing red; this boy was supposed to be his half-brother? No, he refused to acknowledge the thought. But then what was the spider symbol? Was it the mark of Arachne? Was he a child of his father and that spider? How did that work, exactly? No, never mind. He didn't need that mental image.

"So you are the one. The champion of Anansi that I was warned about," Dionysus said.

OoO

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter asked, breaking his reverie. He hated the attention, positive though it may have been. "What do you mean, Anansi?" Peter asked. Similar confusion rang out over the whole camp.

"It means that you belong somewhere else. But Father told me that if you ever entered the camp," he looked at Tantalus, "then you are to be awarded the courtesy that is awarded to any guest."

Tantalus visibly gulped at that, this little shrimp had the audacity to insult him and now he couldn't even do anything to punish him?

Peter was granted a seat on the head table, where a nymph served him Olympus olive and pepperoni pizza. He ate quietly, his cheeks burning at the hushed conversations and pointed looks he couldn't help but notice. He would have given anything to go sit with his friends. He glanced at Percy, who smiled nervously. Tyson whimpered, reminding Peter that his wasn't the only plight. He sent what he hoped was a reassuring look at the cyclops, which Tantalus was quick to notice.

"Can anyone give me any suggestions as to where this beast could be kennelled?" Tantalus asked cruelly.

Suddenly a holographic projection of a green trident appeared above Tyson's head. There were some stifled gasps, but compared to the spider, Poseidon siring a monster was surprisingly uneventful.

Tantalus roared with laughter. "I think I know where to put the beast now. By gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

The camp burst into laughter. Peter saw Percy visibly slouch into his seat. He also noticed the absence of laughter in the case of Annabeth, and to his surprise, Clarisse.

OoO

The dinner itself was swell in Peter's opinion. For dessert he'd gotten a cherry pie that tasted just like his Aunt May's. I miss you guys, he'd thought as nostalgia hit him. Nothing else exceptional had happened during dinner, although he was still unsure what being the champion of Anansi meant. He was thinking about raising the question to Mr. D, the man in the leopard spotted shirt, but between eating and finishing dinner, he disappeared somewhere.

After the dinner, Peter attended the camp bonfire. Most of the camp was wary of him after the night's events, with the exception of some pretty Aphrodite girls, who invited him to sit by them during the bonfire. He declined politely in favor of sitting with his friends. As he did, though, he noticed a tension in the air. Annabeth, who was sitting beside him, seemed to be anxious about something. Her jaw was clenched, and her posture was stiff as she pointedly avoided Peter's gaze.

"What's up?" Peter asked her in a whisper. Annabeth opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider her answer, and closed it again.

"Nothing." Her voice was hoarse. She glanced at Percy, who was singing along to the camp songs animatedly.

Peter scooted closer to her, oblivious to her quick intake of breath. "Who is Anansi?"

"He.…" Annabeth sighed. "Well, he's… not supposed to exist, really."

"There's a lot of that going around. But, if you don't want to talk, I could go sit by Clarisse…"

Annabeth shuddered. "Parker, you are probably the one kid in this camp who would voluntarily sit next to her when she's in a mood."

"Everyone hates her that much?"

"It's more like she hates everyone else that much."

"Why's she in a mood?"

"She's always in a mood. The reason she's especially mad now is probably because of you."

Peter was taken aback. "Me? What did I do?"

"Think about it. It's your first day of camp, and already you've defeated an ancient enemy single-handedly. You were claimed twice, neither time was it normal. You've stolen her limelight."

"Huh." He stared ahead, dazed. "I can affect her that much?"

Now Annabeth turned to look at him. "Most people can't. There's something different about you, Peter."

Peter was silent for a moment as he processed that information. "You never answered my question though," he said, changing the subject. Who is Anansi?"

"I'm not particularly familiar with African mythology. But as I remember it, Anansi was the god of wisdom and trickery. He's also strongly associated with spiders, which would explain the spider symbol."

"I guess it makes sense. My abilities are somewhat spider-related."

"But Dionysus said that you were the champion of Anansi, not the son of…"

"Wait, hold on. Dionysus?"

"Yes, Mr. D," Annabeth said dismissively. "But I can't get past the second symbol. No one has ever been claimed twice, and that is not the sign that is supposed to show up when we get a child of Zeus, yet it was obviously his, but what else could it mean? Oh..."

"Annabeth?" Peter asked.

Annabeth started as she was pulled out of her contemplation. "What? Oh. Right. Anyway, that is not normal. The only thing I can think of is it being the signal of Zeus's consent. For you to stay in the camp, I mean."

"That would explain Mr. D's reaction."

Annabeth sighed. "I can't make heads or tails of it."

"Hey guys, it's about time to turn in." Percy said. Peter realized that while he'd been talking with Annabeth, most of the camp had disappeared into various cabins. The light of the campfire was dimming, and it was becoming very dark. Percy began walking away, and Annabeth followed closely. Peter hesitated.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, not moving. Annabeth sighed heavily, and turned around.

"You have official permission from the king of the gods, and you still think you're not welcome?"

"It's not that. I have a life. Well, sort of. The nuns at St. Agnes will be wondering where I am. Besides, I doubt that Anansi has a cabin here."

"True," Percy said. "Usually, people who are unclaimed or don't have their own cabins stay in Hermes. As the god of travellers, he's kind of obligated to take them in."

"But you're a special case. I'm sure if you wanted to, Mr. D would get you a room in the Big House," Annabeth said.

Peter grimaced. "No thanks. I'll stay in the Hermes cabin."

Percy smirked. "You might change your mind when you see it. Hermes is always overflowing with people."

This turned out to be true. Peter was resolved to not make himself stand out at camp any more than he already did, however. Even when he met the co-counsellors, Travis and Connor Stoll, who were small, wiry, and very mischievous, he was still resolved. When his wallet went missing among his new cabin mates, though, he became wary.

There were way more kids than bunks in the cabin, and so Peter was given a square of floor and a blanket. He grimaced as he eased himself down onto the hardwood, but he still refused to go down to the level of him required to sleep in the same building as Tantalus.

Peter was exhausted, but the clamour in the cabin refused to die down. Travis and Connor hadn't called for a lights out, and they seemed to have no intention of doing so. Sleep became impossible. Grumbling, Peter grabbed a flashlight off a table next to the door and left the cabin.

Outside, Peter paused. Typical of him, running into a situation with very little foresight. What was he planning on doing now? Frustrated, he kicked a rock on the ground. It shot away, shattering a window in Aphrodite cabin-over a hundred feet away. Peter heard a cry of indignation from one of the Aphrodite kids, and winced. Suddenly he was reminded of a pressing need that required him being somewhere else: Dodging attention.

The lights in Hephaestus and Apollo were dark, but Ares was lit with dim red light, and heavy metal music was blaring out of the windows. Ignoring the barbed wire on the roof and the cautionary sign bearing language that made Peter cringe, he went up to the door. He hesitated before knocking. But if Clarisse was in this cabin, they couldn't all be bad.

No one answered at the first knock. Or the second. But the only other lit cabin was Dionysus-and Mr. D wasn't exactly his favourite god either. So Peter persisted. Finally, a burly boy opened the door and sneered at him. "What do you want?"

"Umm…" Peter found himself at a sudden loss for words. The boy was at least eighteen, and the bearer of biceps the size of basketballs. A large tattoo decorated one arm, enhanced by the many scars accompanying it.

"Who's there?" someone called from inside.

"Ah, just some wimpy little kid," the kid said. Peter was suddenly indignant.

"I'm fifteen!" he cried.

"Yeah," the boy said. "What's your point?"

Peter growled. Now he was mad. Though he wasn't sure if that was due entirely to the Ares kid, or the war-like aura around the cabin. "I was just wondering if you had a cell phone I could borrow."

"Why do you need it?" a girl said, appearing next to the boy. She was about fourteen, small, with stringy black hair and a sneer to match the boy's. "You want to call your girlfriend?"

"No, I bet he wants to call his mommy," someone called from inside, laughing.

"What's going on? Sherman?" another voice said, and Peter was suddenly reassured as Clarisse pulled the burly kid, Sherman, out of the doorway. She looked surprised to see Peter, and her cheeks reddened slightly, but they didn't yet mimic the tomato hue they'd taken on at dinner. To be honest, with her small eyes and strong looks, she looked intimidating.

"Oh. You," she said.

"Loving the enthusiasm," Peter said. Clarisse glared at him.

"He wants a phone," the girl said. "To call his mommy."

"Shut up, pea brain," Clarisse said, and roughly pushed her away. She stepped out of the cabin, shutting the door behind her. "Sorry about Dia and Sherman. They're morons."

"No prob. It was nothing, really." Peter was suddenly nervous. He realized he'd never been alone with Clarisse before. She seemed to lighten up now that she was alone. Maybe, Pete realized, she was finally being herself.

"Why do you need it?" she asked him.

"Oh- the phone? I need to call my orphanage and tell them I'm staying at a friend's house or something."

"You live in an orphanage?" she asked, a bit of sympathy in her eyes.

"Well yeah, it's no big deal though," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Go ask Tantalus, there's a phone in the Big House," she said. She hesitated for a moment, as if considering something, but then she turned around and went back in the cabin,

"Oh- well, thanks Clarisse!" Peter called after her.

"See you around, Web head," Clarisse called gruffly over her shoulder. She slipped back inside the cabin, not turning back.

Peter shrugged it off as the door was closed behind her. Must be in one of her moods he thought as he walked away. A few minutes later, he was knocking on Tantalus's door. Once again he waited for what felt like an eternity. Then the door latch clicked, and the door opened a crack.

"What do you need, O' esteemed guest?" Tantalus said sarcastically.

"I need to use the phone."

"What for?" Tantalus said suspiciously.

"I need to call the folks at my place and tell them where I am." Tantalus sniffed, and after a pause, opened the door wider, revealing him dressed in a full length velvet purple robe.

"Hmm," Tantalus said, pretending to consider it. "Fine. It's in there," he said, standing to the side and pointing at a doorway with his thumb. As Peter passed, he feigned nonchalance while examining his nails.

Well that was easy, Peter thought as he entered the house.

The phone was an old model. It was attached to a wall with a cord. He picked it up, and dialed the orphanage's number. After several rings, an old woman picked up the receiver end.

"Hello, St. Agnes Orphanage."

"Hello, uh, Sister Margaret?" Peter asked.

"Speaking."

"Yeah, this is Peter, I was calling to let you know that I am going to be spending the night at my friend's house, so don't worry about me." Peter spoke softly.

"In Lord's name Peter are you okay?! I heard some hooligans blew up the school gymnasium. They were accusing you of being guilty, but I wouldn't hear of it. I told them, Peter Parker is far too timid a child for such tomfoolery."

"Yeah, thanks Sister Margaret. I ran away after the gym blew up, I thought that they were going to attack me. I met my friend and his mother offered for me to stay at their house for the night." Peter was disturbed at how easily the lies slipped from his tongue.

"I expect you to be here tomorrow morning, the police want you to ask you about the details about the incident."

Peter winced. The police? "Yeah sure, I'll be there, don't worry about me. Good night, Sister Margaret."

"Such a nice boy you are, Peter. I wish the same to you." Sister Margaret said cheerily, and ended the call. Margaret always reminded him of a grandmother, though as far as he knew, both of his were dead.

OoO

It was dark. He could hardly see anything beyond a few feet from himself. He was in a cave that much was certain. He could feel a rock face to his back, and the air was dank and humid. The hairs on Peter's neck were standing up. This was the most vivid dream he'd ever had. He could feel a presence around him, large and overpowering. His natural instinct was to flee-but of course he wouldn't get very far in this darkness. He found himself hyperventilating. He sat on the cold stone ground, putting his head between his knees. After several minutes, however, he realized that the darkness was suddenly far less overpowering. It hadn't gotten lighter, exactly, but he somehow knew where everything was. It was like a bat's echolocation-he was getting feedback from his surroundings, painting a picture in his mind's eye. This was weird, because his spider-sense had never worked like this before.

Peter could feel millions of tiny things scurrying about in the shadows, all moving in the same direction. He shuddered as some of them crawled over him, hundreds of little legs tickling his bare skin. They started piling upon themselves, forming a large mound on the ground which soon grew limbs. The shape was becoming humanoid. Peter instinctively scooted back-he'd watched enough horror movies to know what would happen next. His fears became justified as the figure solidified.

"Soo...how was school?" The figure asked in a cheery African accent. Peter jumped back in shock.

"Wha-WHO IN THE HECK ARE YOU?!" he bellowed. This was certainly not a normal dream.

"Right down to business, eh?" The figure said. Peter could barely make out his form, but he could tell what the man looked like in the same way he'd seen before. He was tall and wiry, dark-skinned and dressed in bright, vibrant colours. His hair was styled in long, beaded dreadlocks. "People call me Kwaku Anansi, the Spider-God, the trickster, the Great Weaver et cetera et cetera. You can call me Anansi, Kwaku, Mr. K, even Spidey-just don't you dare call me Annie."

"Okay," Peter said uncertainly, "you gave me this powers?"

"Why, of course! You, Peter Parker, are my newest champion on this earth. Well, actually, my only champion on this earth." Anansi flashed a grin at Peter, but he was not reassured.

"Now you might ask what that means, exactly," Anansi continued. "You are a very bright child, after all. It simply means that I've chosen you; given you the power to change the world. Why? Well, I'd like to say that it had some sort of deep meaning or whatever, but to be truthful, I was bored." He said it as if that was a completely normal reason to mess up someone's life, and possibly affect the entire world at large.

"What- you're saying you turned my whole life upside-down on a WHIM?!" Peter asked heatedly.

"Well, not necessarily. You were destined to get your powers at the age of fifteen, I just sped things up a bit," Anansi said with a shrug.

"What do you mean I was destined to get these powers? Why me?" he asked, confused.

"Well you see, there's this... metaphysical web called the Web of Life. The Web is…well, fate! Each strand shows the potential futures of the multiverse, yours and many other people's action changes those futures. See, while you may be my only champion on this earth, there are plenty of them in other universes. There are thousands of spider people, and they're not even all mine! You know that precognitive sense you have, your Spider-Sense, it's actually a phenomenon of Web of Life on a small scale. It taps into the Web and predicts the future," Anansi explained to him.

"Who are these other people?" Peter asked, now curious.

"Your friend Perseus for one. He is not gifted with spider-like abilities, as many of you are, but he is nevertheless a part of all of it. He will make or break the future of Western Civilization with a single choice, but you are not to tell him this. He is far from ready for that sort of revelation. It is certainly not your place," Anansi warned him, with a sudden edge in his voice.

"Okay, so…that's it? I don't have to, like, do your bidding or something like that?" Peter asked

"No, of course not! I am insulted. Unlike my uptight relatives, there are no rules for me against interfering with the mortal world, and even if there were, I doubt I would listen. I can do my 'bidding' myself." He raised his hands in mimed air quotes as he said the word.

"Wait, relatives?" Peter asked, confused.

"Yes, the Olympians. All the gods are related through the Earth Mother. They call her Gaea, I call her Nana. The Devas would call her Aditi, among Asgardians she's Jord. We all have a common ancestor. I know Zeus personally as I'm technically his half cousin or something. We talked last at the Council of Godheads, held once every millennia. He knows me, and he knows I would never purposefully send a danger to his camp. That's the reason he consented to your presence there, at least for a time."

"This is all too much to take in," Peter said quietly. "How many pantheons exist?"

"Let's just say quite a few, and leave it at that."

"So, did you bring me here to tell me all this?"

"No. Well, yes, that was the part of the reason. What I really wanted to discuss are your powers. They will get more powerful depending mostly upon some very important things that you are in constantly in contact with. First and foremost is chaotic energy, or as I like to call it, murder energy. You mainly get that from killing people, but being so important a part in the Web, you can absorb it from places where it is concentrated. This camp is such a place. Greek magic is about shaping chaotic energy to bring a form of order, but underneath that pseudo order, there is, as always was, chaos.

"As long as you are in such a place, your powers will develop at an accelerated rate. Like for instance, that incident with the Colchis Bulls. And just think; that was only with a few moments of exposure! You are naturally more powerful with Greek influence. You can feel the difference right now in your Spider-Sense, can't you? You can sense things around you. Like sonar. That's because you are an ancient, magic soaked place. You will unlock more of those powers naturally as you grow, but this place enhances you, and speeds up your development.," he said as he lit up a cigarette, lighting up what had previously been almost pitch black. Peter frowned, and Anansi looked up. "What?"

"Isn't that bad for you?"

Anansi snickered. "Are you serious, Peter? I'm a god! We invented the cigarette! It was never intended for human use, hence the lung damage. Anyway, you will now have a choice in your future. That choice is yours alone to make. However you choose, it will not only affect your growth, but it may shape reality as you know it. Personally, I think you should say yes when the choice comes along." He inhaled a puff of smoke.

Exhaling with an audible sigh, he said, "You are going to face many obstacles in your life, Peter, because with great power comes great responsibility, and greater enemies. Now sleep. We'll meet again. Oh, and by the way, about that Web of Life I was talking about. You're kind of at the center. So, yeah. No pressure."

Anansi snapped his fingers and Peter suddenly found standing up to be a challenge. "Wait! What do you..." he never finished, however, because at that moment he toppled to the ground.

OoO

Peter sat up very suddenly. He was gasping for breath, and soaked with sweat. He blinked against the harsh light, disoriented. As he looked around, he began to get his bearings. He was in Hermes cabin, which was nearly empty. Two kids were still there, an older girl reading a book in the corner, and a small, blond boy lounging on a bunk. The sun was long since above the horizon, and, glancing at his watch, he realized that it was already eight thirty. He was late for school. But it was Saturday. Or was it Friday?

"Hey, welcome to the land of the living!" the boy said cheerily.

"Huh?" Peter stood, rubbing an ache in his shoulder. Stupid hardwood. Although, it was better than stone. Like the stone in his dream. And suddenly, it all came rushing back. The cave, Anansi. His destiny. He was the centre of the Web of Life. Yeah right.

The boy stood up, holding out his hand for Peter to shake. "Cecil Markowitz. Glad to meet you."

"Peter Parker," Pete said, taking his hand.

"Ah," Cecil said, giving Peter a mischievous smile, "so it was you that took Alec's flashlight." Peter looked down, and realized that he was still holding the flashlight he'd grabbed the night before. He'd clenched it so hard in his sleep that his hand was printed with red lines. He dropped the flashlight, and moved back to his space.

One thing he was certain of. He couldn't stay here. He didn't belong. He wasn't a demigod, and he needed to get back to Queens. Besides, the Spider-god had wanted him to stay, which meant that staying was the last thing Peter wanted to do, no matter what the consequences of leaving might be. He began packing his backpack, which he'd been wearing the day before at school.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked him.

"I'm leaving. I don't belong here," Peter said.

Cecil rolled his eyes. "Jenna, get Percy."

"Why do I have to get Percy? You get Percy," Jenna said.

"Fine. You can get Annabeth, instead," Cecil said, smiling.

"I have a better idea," Peter said. "Why don't you get Tantalus? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to approve my leaving."

"Yeah, which exactly why we shouldn't go to Tantalus, man!" Cecil said. "Why are you in such a hurry to get outta here, anyway?"

"I have places to be."

"Alright, fine. I'll get Percy," Jenna said, standing up. She set her book to the side.

Peter almost laughed aloud. "You're kidding yourselves if you think that a thirteen year old kid is going to get me to do anything."

"You'd be surprised," Jenna said. "Besides, Cecil's only twelve, and he can be pretty persuasive. Why do you think that I'm leaving right now?" Jenna stepped out the door.

"She's not going to get Percy, is she?" Cecil asked.

"Nope," Peter said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He moved to follow Jenna out the door, but Cecil ran in front of him.

"Stay, please?" Cecil's face was child-like, pleading.

Peter hesitated for a moment, then said, "No." He pushed the boy aside, and continued outside. It wouldn't be hard to get Tantalus to give him permission to call a cab.

"Don't follow me, Cecil," Peter called behind him.

"How did you know I was here?" the boy asked.

"No offense kid, but you have about as much stealth as a one-legged bear on steroids."

"You know," Cecil said after a pause," "saying 'no offense' doesn't make it any less offensive!"

Cecil did stay behind after that, though. Peter was walking for only a few moments, however, when his path crossed with Annabeth's.

"Where are you going?" she asked suspiciously, almost nervously. "What's with the bag?"

"I'm leaving," Peter responded.

"Why?"

"Well, you know about yesterday's incident at school. The cops want to ask me some questions because of that Sloan kid. He told the cops that I and Percy destroyed the gym. I have to clear that mess up."

"Oh…won't you stay for a few more days? At least t-till the chariot race, I think I am going to ask Percy to t-t-team up with me."

"What's with the stutter?"

"It's nothing."

"Sure," Peter said sarcastically. "Because everyone in this camp develops random stutters all the time, right?"

Annabeth grimaced. "I just…I don't like spiders. There's kind of an eternal rivalry between Athena and Arachne, and so spiders have always had a bit of a grudge against us."

"Does it make any difference that I'm not related to Arachne in any way, shape, or form?"

"Yes, a little. I'll admit, though, I was scared for a moment when that spider appeared over your head."

"I guess that's understandable."

"Will you stay?"

"Well, I want to, really. But like I said, there are some things I have to take care of back in Queens." Peter told her, "I will come back, I promise. There are too many unanswered questions for me to stay away. You don't have to worry about me," Peter said.

"Are you planning on saying goodbye to Percy and Tyson?"

"Is he awake?"

"Percy's always been early-to-rise. He'll be up," she said, taking his arm and leading him towards the Poseidon cabin.

The cabin was long, low, and solid. The walls were a rough grey stone decorated with sea-shells and corals. Inside, there were six bunk beds, out of which only two were occupied. The population was a stark contrast from the Hermes cabin. Percy and Tyson were talking when they entered.

"Aw Tyson, It's not that simple." Percy was saying. "Hey, Annabeth, Peter. What are you doing in here?"

"The Spider wants to leave camp."

"Why? Is it the same reason as yesterday?" Percy asked.

"Yes and` no. The police think that we destroyed the gym. I've got to clear all that up." Percy nodded in understanding.

"I might have only known you for a day, Pete, but you've quickly became a good friend. And thanks for defending Tyson yesterday."

"Yeah, don't worry. Tantalus was being a jerk, and besides, Tyson's my friend too. Right Tyson?" Peter said, looking at the cyclops.

"Me? Your friend?!" Tyson asked, his face morphing into a happy expression.

"Yeah, of course you," Peter said.

"I made a new friend!" Tyson said happily to everyone in the room.

"I'll miss you, Tyson," Peter said. Tyson beamed, and Pete found himself suddenly immersed in a mountain of odd-smelling cotton as Tyson gave him a bear-hug.

"See you, Peter," Annabeth said, smiling.

OoO

As Peter had anticipated, Tantalus was only too eager to give him a ride out. The drive was far less exciting in a regular old taxicab, and Peter found himself missing the oddities of Camp Half Blood and their crazy taxi-driving triplets already. When he arrived at St. Agnes, the first thing he noticed was the police cruiser parked in front of the orphanage. When he entered, he greeted the solemn-faced nun at the reception, Sister Lisa. She nodded to him gravely. This seemed to be more serious than he'd thought.

"Hello Peter," Sister Lisa said, "I'll lead you to the officer who wants to speak to you. I hope for your sake and for this establishment you don't get in any trouble." She peered down her hawk-like nose at him, as if saying, If you tarnish our reputation, I will personally make sure you are escorted to the state penitentiary in chains. Sister Lisa had never exactly been parental guardian of the year.

"Thank you Sister Lisa," Peter said meekly as he followed her into the lounge. He hadn't been in there much before; the room was reserved strictly for guests, and the orphanage's children were generally not invited in. The decorations in the room reminded Peter of an old grandmother's house, with flowery plush, silk, and lace draped over everything.

An African-American man in a blue police uniform was sitting on the ancient victorian sofa, sipping tea that no doubt Sister Margaret had provided. Spotting Peter, he laid the cup on the table and gave him a warm smile.

"Hello, Peter?" the man asked.

"Yup," Peter said glumly, standing by the door. The man seemed friendly enough, but Peter wasn't taking any chances.

"Good to meet you," the man said, beckoning to him. Reluctantly, Peter moved toward him, sitting in a dull pink wingback armchair across from the officer. "I'm Sergeant Brett Mahoney," he said, leaning forward. "I wanted to hear your side of the story about the explosion at the school yesterday, then if you'll permit me to ask you some questions in that regard," Mahoney said, picking up a biscuit from the plate on the coffee table and sitting back again.

"Sure…" Peter said uncertainly, but behind Mahoney, Sister Margaret was adopting a stern look and cocking her head. Amazing how the nuns here always seemed to enjoy speaking without words. "I mean, yes sir," Peter corrected himself, straightening up. St. Agnes had always adopted a strict policy of poise and obedience.

"No need for that, kid," Mahoney said, finishing the biscuit and wiping the crumbs from his mouth. "Let's begin." He fished a small notepad and ink pen out of his pocket, and looked at Peter attentively.

Tentatively, Peter began his story. The lies were becoming more fluid with each go. Sister Margaret would be disappointed. He told Mahoney about how he'd just been perfecting his science project in the gym while a class of seventh graders were playing dodgeball. He'd heard it get a little rowdy, but he was wearing headphones, and he didn't really look up until the first bang. It looked like some kid had brought fireworks as a prank, and was setting them off everywhere. One had launched into the boy's' locker room, and likely ignited the large amount of fumes present inside. He'd been scared, and he was afraid someone would pin the damage on him, and so he ran. It wasn't a completely fluid story, but Mahoney seemed to buy it.

"Well, Peter," the officer said, standing up, "I'm pretty confident that you'll get off the hook. We're still looking for that other kid, Percy Johanson, or whatever his name was."

"Jackson," Peter corrected him automatically.

"Right," Mahoney said, eyeing him, "Jackson. Anyway, if you see him, if he tries to contact you in any way, you know who to call, correct?" Peter nodded hurriedly. "Great," Mahoney said, nodding to Sister Margaret and leaving. Once Mahoney had left, Sister Margaret sat down.

"Well, that was something," she said brightly, obviously trying to cheer him up. She had always nursed a soft spot where Peter was concerned.

"Yeah," Peter said absently. "It sure was." He had to find a way to contact Percy. But he didn't have his number. Did Percy even have a cell phone? It didn't seem to be all that common among Half-Bloods.

"Are you okay, Peter?" Sister Margaret asked.

"What?" Peter said, looking up quickly. "Oh, yes. Yeah, I'm great."

"Well, I'm sorry to give you even more bad news, but I'm afraid that the school isn't going to invite you back next year. I tried to tell them, that there is no possibility that you were guilty, but they apparently didn't want to take any chances. Wouldn't even agree to see if you were cleared by the police! Right idiots, the lot of them!" Peter smiled wanly. So much for his basketball scholarship. Maybe he could go back to Midtown High School next year. He hoped he still had friends there; after all, they'd all last known him as the school nerd turned bully. But there was still a chance they could reconnect, one in particular. He smiled wider as his thoughts turned to Gwen, the girl he'd had a crush on since fourth grade. The same girl had, of course, renounced all ties with him last year. She'd seen better than anyone how much he'd changed. But if there was anyone he wished to see again, it was her.

OoO

Sitting on the orphanage rooftop, Peter was working on his costume. It wasn't easy; he didn't have much money nor access to the supplies he needed now that he was expelled from school. He simply had to do with what he already had.

He was now altering his old black and red hooded sweatshirt. He'd never been great shakes at sewing, so he spray-painted a spider on the front of the sweat shirt in blue. He'd raided the storeroom of the orphanage and found a red ski mask and a pair of fingerless gloves.

As he looked down on himself, he groaned. He looked like a cat burglar on Halloween! He wished he could replace the ski mask, but it was all he had. As he contemplated, he realized that the track pants he'd donned wouldn't be convenient in cold weather. Luckily, it was May, so he wouldn't have to worry about that for a few months.

Tonight would be the first night he would really test out his powers. Previously, he'd practiced using them for sports. Now he would be training with a different goal in mind; the betterment of the city. It was with that in mind that he snuck out of his bedroom window that night and into the darkened streets of Manhattan.

Peter was at a loss for what to do next. He hadn't really been planning this far ahead. But the city lights were beautiful, and he didn't even notice as the cool night air bit into his skin. He felt, for the first time, completely free. He could do whatever he wanted.

Holding onto the surprising sense of euphoria, Peter stepped up to the side of the building. It was a long way down, but strangely, he didn't feel scared at all. He knew that somehow, he'd catch himself. Without any preparation, without a running start, Peter bent his legs and jumped. He wasn't sure what prompted him to do it. But suddenly he was flying higher than he'd ever thought was possible, the strength in his legs propelling him over twenty feet away, to the next roof.

He landed hard, stumbling, on the other side. Catching his breath, Peter whipped off his ski mask. Looking back, he realized that the orphanage roof was not only far in distance, but several feet below the building he was on now. He should not have been able to make that jump. Then he turned again. The edge of his current rooftop was about forty feet away. The next building was level with this one, but the gap was even farther than the last one. Grinning, Peter lowered himself into a crouched position. After a moment of psyching himself up, he sprang forward, running at a sprint. When he reached the edge of the building, he leapt with all his strength.

At the end of his jump, Peter's foot slipped off the edge of the building's corner. His arms slapped against the cold concrete, and he began to slip. He scrambled for purchase, barely restraining his panic. His feet couldn't grip the wall with his thick-soled sneakers, and he was relying on arm strength alone. His fingers gripped the smooth surface, sticking like a spider. With a final kick off the red brick below, Pete was rolling onto the rooftop. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Obviously, he needed more practice.

Slowly, Peter heaved himself into a sitting position. He pulled off his sneakers, wincing as the cold night's air bit into his stocking feet. He'd been able to use his spider abilities with shoes before. Hopefully, it would work through thinner soles. Standing, Peter tucked his shoes into a corner. He'd be back for those later. Then, he faced the next gap. Backing up, Peter's eyes took on a determined glint. Not bothering to crouch, he broke into a run, sprinting to the edge of the building at top speed. He pushed off, using the enhanced strength in his legs to propel himself forward. When he landed, he barely slowed before attempting the next jump. He landed in a crouch, and before he'd gone another step, was vaulting himself over the large vent blocking his path.

Peter grinned to himself. He was a regular superhero. Leaping from building to building, barely slowing in between, seemed an oddly effective mode of travel.

Distracted, Peter realized suddenly that he was at the end of the block. With a yelp, he stumbled, and the momentum of his run made him pitch forward. Arms pin wheeling, Peter tumbled over the edge, falling like a rock toward the unforgiving asphalt below.

In memory, Peter would edit out the high-pitched shriek he made unwittingly when he first went over. Plummeting to the road below, which was busy even at this hour of night, he felt his heart drop out of his chest. Flailing, Peter tried frantically to catch hold of something, anything. And as his fall began to feel irreversible, he remembered his best - his only - asset.

As he made the now-familiar movement, a long strand of artificial webbing propelled itself from the machine on his wrist with a thwip. The web latched onto the corner of a building, and Peter a jerk on his arm, and the web detached from his shooter. Grasping desperately, he managed to grab hold of the strand with both arms, and found his fall suddenly slowed as he swung in a large arc. At the peak, he released the web, quickly firing another.

Abruptly, Peter's terror turned into glee. While soaring through the skies of New York at the end of a spider's web, he felt strangely at home. When he released the web, Peter lingered in the air for a moment, and he let loose a piercing war whoop as gravity caught him once more. He dropped like a rock, freefalling for several seconds before firing his shooters again. Deftly catching the web as it detached, Peter grabbed it with both hands and pulled down hard, launching himself into an airborne somersault.

The wind whistled past him as he streaked through the air. For a few glorious minutes, Peter was free, away from the pain and heartache that always accompanied him. For the first time in over a decade, he forgot about the day his parents died. He forgot about the disaster that cost the lives of his remaining family. He forgot about his severed relationship with Gwen. He was truly carefree.

Peter scowled when he heard the yelling. Who did they think they were, ruining his suddenly great day? He almost swung right past, but as his uncle's prophetic words echoed through his head, he sighed. He had the great power. It was time to take care of the responsibility part.

Swinging in a sudden, sharp turn, Peter angled his body up, planning to land fluidly on top of the nearest building. Instead, he slammed into the wall with an ever-so-graceful splat. He stuck to the smooth brick like a spider, groaning in pain as he slowly crawled over the edge of the roof and flopped onto the hard cement ground.

"What do you expect from me, Nakamura?" a man's voice said angrily from the alley below. "I'm just a cat burglar. I've told you this before."

Peter peeked over the edge of the building. About fifty feet below, a grey-haired man was backed into a corner by a lone mugger. Slowly getting to his feet, Peter muttered, "Why is it always an old guy?"

"What I expect, Mister Hardy, is for you to return what you've stolen from me." The attacker's voice was smooth and menacing.

"I don't have it," Hardy said simply.

Nakamura snarled, pulling out a long, bronze knife. "I want it now! Who did you sell it to?"

"The money? I used it to pay off a debt."

"Not that, idiot! I meant the fortune!"

Hardy paused. "What are you on about, Ethan?"

"The fortune cookie!"

"The cookie? That's what you're on about? Why would I sell that?"

Nakamura roared, thrusting the knife at the cornered man. Hardy dodged narrowly, and his attacker slashed again.

"That's my cue," Peter said to himself. Pulling on the ski mask, he dove off the edge of the building. He fell headfirst, reversing in mid-air so he was upright. He landed silently, flexing his knees and ankles to absorb his momentum. In front of him, the scuffle continued, unaware of Peter's presence. Unaware, that is, until he shot twin streaks of sticky webbing at the back of Ethan Nakamura's black T-shirt. The web had barely landed before Peter jerked it away, taking the slight figure with it. Heaving with all his strength, Peter threw Nakamura across the alley. The boy seemed surprisingly light. Peter didn't realize that he wasn't.

Metal clanged against metal as Nakamura's armoured body came to rest in a Dumpster across the alley. Grinning to himself, Peter turned to the shocked man standing behind him.

"Who- who are you?" Hardy asked, eyes wide.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Peter said cheerfully. "I'm Batman."

Hardy gaped, staring at the masked figure in front of him. All he managed to say was, "Ah."

Suddenly, Peter felt the twinge of his Spider-sense. He whirled, and found himself face-to-face with a dark haired, armour-clad boy wielding a long, wicked looking blade. The tip of the knife barely scraped Peter's chest as he leapt backward, but pain flared along the cut much sharper than it should have been. Alarmed, he staggered backwards.

"Poisoned, huh?" Peter said, trying to sound at ease. "Should've guessed. You seem like the poisoned knife type." Inside, Peter was panicking. The poison could have long-lasting effects. Luckily, it wasn't a deep cut, but his sweatshirt was cut neatly in half down the middle. He felt a pang of annoyance about that. After only one night, his outfit was already shredded.

"Who do you think you are?" Ethan said angrily.

"Seriously, is that the only question you people can ask? No 'how are you?' No 'where are you from?' Sheesh, man, work on your manners."

Ethan slashed again with his knife, and this time Peter dodged neatly to the side. "Answer the question, moron!"

"Now now, buddy," Peter said jovially as he dodged another wild strike, "that's no way to treat a new acquaintance. But you can call me…" Peter paused as he leapt over Ethan's blade, backflipping in mid-air and landing neatly on all fours on the wall above Nakamura. "The Scarlet Spider!"

Ethan Nakamura paused his assault to look confused at Peter. "That is an incredibly stupid name."

"Eh, you're probably right." Peter launched off the wall, landing behind Ethan. Nakamura whirled, his knife whistling above Pete's head. "How about 'Agent Venom?'"

"What's that, a disease?" Ethan grunted as Peter fired his webs at his knife, knocking it from Nakamura's grasp. He charged Peter, who effortlessly leapt over him, kicking him in the back. Ethan rammed his head into the wall, and he cried out in pain.

"Fine. You just go ahead and call me Silk, and I'll forgive your narrow-mindedness."

Ethan slumped to the ground. "Where did that name come from?"

"You know, like a spider's silk!" Peter fired his webs at Ethan once more, to demonstrate his point.

"Sounds like a girl's name," he growled from his new cocoon of web.

Peter sighed. "I'm pretty sure that these are all going to be wildly popular someday. But I don't have time for a stickler like you. Good luck getting out of there any time soon without this," Peter said as he webbed Ethan's knife where it had fallen. He jerked the web toward him, and the poisoned blade sailed through the air. Peter caught it deftly by the hilt, grinning as he watched Ethan's eyes widen.

"Well, I think that just about wraps this up," a voice said lightly from behind Peter. Hardy, who'd been standing in the corner for the duration of the skirmish, had evidentially recovered from the shock of Peter's entrance. He now mimed tipping a hat to Peter, walking casually toward the mouth of the alley.

"Oh, no you don't, mister," Peter said, webbing the back of Hardy's shirt. The man tensed, turning to face the masked teen.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well, a thank you would be nice."

Hardy sighed in relief. "Is that all? Well, kind stranger, thank you for your efforts." Again, Hardy turned his back on Peter.

"Also," Peter continued, "would you mind explaining to me why you were being assaulted by a teenager wearing armor and carrying a celestial bronze dagger?" Hardy tensed.

"Because Walter Hardy is an idiotic kleptomaniac with no respect for things that should be left alone!" Ethan Nakamura shouted. Hardy jumped backwards as Ethan began to thrash in his sticky binding.

"Believe me, if I'd known how much trouble it would bring, I never would have gone on that stupid boat! All I got for my efforts were a few pounds of gold and various objects with little value," Hardy said heatedly.

"What boat?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"The cruise ship! The princess something."

Ethan growled. "The Princess Andromeda, idiot."

"Right!" Hardy said. "That. Like I say, it wasn't worth it. I'm not exactly sure what Nakamura is so particular about, either. I took quite a few things."

"The cookie!" Ethan cried. "The fortune cookie! What did you do with it?"

"Well, I ate it of course. What else would I have done?"

Ethan paled. "What? You opened it?"

"Well, that would tend to be a rather practical part of eating a fortune cookie," Peter interjected sarcastically, folding his arms.

"What did the fortune say?" Ethan said. "Tell me!"

Hardy considered for a moment before saying nonchalantly, "I don't know."

"You don't know?!"

"I didn't look. I was in somewhat of a hurry, you know. Now if you don't mind, I have a daughter to get back to." With that, Hardy turned and simply walked away. Peter ignored him, looking at Ethan Nakumura in disgust. He was staring straight ahead, shaking his head slowly.

"What's your deal, man?" Peter asked.

"My mother gave me that cookie," Ethan said slowly.

"Who's your mother?"

Ethan looked Peter in the eye, and said in a deadpan voice, "Nemesis."

"Well, good for you," Peter said, looking away. "Figures it would be a goddess. See you around, kid." Peter angled his arm upward, preparing to fire his webs and get out of there.

"What about me?" Ethan said, panicked.

Peter shrugged. "Someone should find you eventually. Just hope it's the police." Grinning under the mask at Ethan's stoned expression, Peter leapt against the wall, pushing off into open space. He loved the thwip sound his web-shooters made as they discharged into the night.

OoO

This chapter has been co-authored by me and BatgirlBeyond. As of this chapter, all future chapters will be co-authored by both of us.