I do now own Rosario Vampire or any Spiderman property, they are owned by Akihisa Ikeda and Marvel.

This is normally the part of the story where I tell you my 'origin story', but I don't really think you need to hear it, do you? Because I'm pretty sure you already know. But in case you haven't caught up yet. Here are the cliff notes. Basically, I'm a superhero. I shoot webs. I dress in bright colourful spandex and I haven't even finished high school. Okay I admit, you'd be forgiven if you wouldn't have been able to guess. But if you could have guessed that then that's actually pretty impressive, well done.

Peter Parker used to be a normal fifteen year old kid, a bit nerdy sure but he wasn't different in any significant way. He lived with his aunt and uncle growing up and although they certainly were not rich by any means they were much happier than the average family, no arguments were ever made and no fallout ever occurred. But one night when nothing seemed amiss, uncle Ben was taken from Peter, no rhyme or reason to his murder he was simply shot after a botched sidewalk robbery, Ben refused to give up his wallet which led to him receiving a fatal gut shot. By the time Peter had even realised a murder had taken place a block away, and by the time he had realised it was his own uncle, he wasn't even able to hear his last words. He was ten seconds late.

This filled Peter with a justified rage which he just had to let out, and luckily for him he had just the tool. Only two weeks beforehand he had received a bite from a mutated spider whilst visiting the local oscorp, or at least local in way that they were located in the same city. He barely noticed the bite at first but the effects taking place in his body were quick to make their presence known, changing his bare genetic code in accordance with their own ideas. That was the first and hopefully only time Peter had run home early from a school trip or from school at all.

The second he got home he hadn't even realised his guardians were home and instead immediately made his way upstairs to face plant onto his bed and let sleep immediately take him over. And long story short when he woke up he was very different. He had muscles even though he had never worked out along with incredibly enhanced senses, making the glasses he had been wearing up to that point all but pointless, and lastly he noticed that his physical attributes had significantly increased as well, he had to restrain himself from tearing his door from its hinges when simply pulling it open.

Peter rushed home after the shooting to get a change of clothing. He hadn't used his powers up to this point and he wasn't exactly eager to either but he was desperate. His neighbors were distracted with the murder that had taken place only two blocks away to notice Peter climbing out of his window wearing some red shoes, blue jeans and a red hoodie. And as a last minute throw on he got a red balaclava he had for some reason and decided to wear it in case someone were to recognise him.

After about two hours of following police cars through alleys and surprisingly keeping up, he made the revelation that not only was he just enhanced in general but he would also stick to walls without difficulty and apparently his body had somehow found a way to produce a stringy web like fluid which was incredibly strong and would also stick to walls with ease. And then after another hour of trial and error of using his webs to swing about tracking cars and slamming his face into the bricks and windows of the surrounding buildings he had finally got a bit of a handle on things and was back on track.

The next part is something that Peter would rather not remember. Confronting his uncle's killer was strange, dreamlike even. Something about his own intentions felt wrong more do than anything else. The murderer had been pinned by the cops and was forced to retreat into a warehouse on the far side of town. His pistol was empty from taking potshots at the pursuing cops whilst haphazardly driving in an attempt to escape.

Peter grabbed him from the shadows and without a single breath being made he beat this man until his face was mush and his skull was shattered and in tiny pieces. It turned out that pulverising a man's face with super strength for a solid three minutes won't leave much behind.

Peter looked at the man gargling on his own blood and looking to the sky through the exposed bit of ceiling and Pete let him go and basically threw him to the ground. Peter could hear his heartbeat and was horrified that it was the equivalent of about two beats per minute. He had almost killed a man. Before he could even comprehend this he noticed a bright light suddenly strike the side of his face and turned to see about six officers advancing towards him. He made a quick escape through that exposed bit of ceiling and quickly made his way home. Seeing his bloody fists whilst he was swinging through the air and knowing for a fact that none of that blood was his. In fact he was luckily that he was mostly wearing red, even then it still showed clearly but not proudly on his behalf.

That was four months ago and in that time he had thrown out those clothes and the murderer had been announced dead. Peter hated that man, unquestionably so, but the guilt of killing a man was still enough to give the feeling of drowning. But despite all of this he and his aging aunt were doing just fine, a few money troubles here and there but fine despite these troubles.

And recently something had happened in New York, seemingly a superhero had decided to appear out of nowhere, swinging around the tall buildings leaving a trail of tied up street thugs; wearing an unmissable red and blue suit with triangular white eyes with a proud spider displayed on his chest and back completely surrounded by a black grid pattern mimicking a web all across the red sections of his suit. From there on out, the city would declare him to be the superhero known as 'Spiderman'.