Chapter 6: Enter the Totem.
(General P.O.V)
The locker room was quiet. Just buzzing lights overhead and the kind of stale sweat smell that never really washes out of concrete.
Peter sat on the bench, staring at the System interface glowing faintly in front of him. It didn't talk anymore—no voice, no missions—just a floating list of his unlocked abilities.
Still tracking him. Still alive in its own quiet way. He scrolled through the entries one by one, whispering to himself, "Nothing flashy tonight."
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{ABSOLUTE SPIDER SYSTEM – TRAIT TRACKING INTERFACE}
User: PETER B. PARKER
System Status: GUIDANCE LOCKED | MISSION INTERFACE TERMINATED | TRAIT TRACKING ACTIVE
Totem Progress: [Unavailable]
Reward Access: [Terminated]
UNLOCKED TRAITS:
1. Enhanced Strength.
- User possesses physical strength exponentially beyond normal human levels.
- Current estimated lift capacity: ~15 tons (adrenaline-assisted).
2. Enhanced Reflexes.
- Reflex response time reduced to sub-10ms.
- Allows close-range dodge and reactive combat instincts.
3. Enhanced Agility & Flexibility.
- Near-perfect balance and precision.
- Capable of contortion, flipping, and acrobatics at superhuman speed.
4. Organic Web Creation.
- Web fluid produced naturally via wrist glands.
- Webbing can be adjusted by flex duration for tensile strength and reach.
- Recharge rate: Medium (approx. 20-minute full replenishment after heavy use).
5. Surface Adhesion.(Full-body)
- Controlled electrostatic field in palms, feet, and select contact points.
- Allows wall-crawling, ceiling grip, and vertical combat.
- Can be consciously activated or used instinctively.
6. Regenerative Healing (Minor)
- Rapid repair of soft-tissue damage, bruising, and minor fractures.
- Not instantaneous; enhanced sleep accelerates full-body recovery.
- Internal injuries require extended recovery window.
7. Sensory Enhancement.
- Full-spectrum vision, increased hearing, scent detection.
- User can track bio-signatures and chemical trails (e.g., Lizard's scent).
- Auditory processing filter allows selective tuning.
8. Skin-Density Modulation.
- Body naturally reinforces dermal layer on impact.
- Allows temporary resistance to burns, blunt force, and sharp trauma.
- Activation is reactive, not voluntary.
9. Spider Sense.
- Early-stage danger sense.
- Activates as a skull-based buzzing pulse prior to threats.
- Sensitivity and clarity increasing with usage.
- Currently functions with short-range predictive accuracy (~3-4 seconds lead time)
NOTE: System evolution has ceased. No new missions or will be granted. Further ability development will occur solely through instinct, stress-response, or external catalysts.}
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A few things had changed since the last time he pulled up the display, but no new abilities.
The promoter had been blunt about his role tonight. "You're the jobber. Your job is to make Bonecrusher look like a god. You lose, he wins. Sell it hard." (AN:Is Gwen a psychic or what?)
Peter didn't care. He wasn't there to win. He was there to get paid.
But even so, he couldn't afford to show off anything that would get caught on someone's shaky phone video and go viral. So he made the call—stick to reflexes and agility. That would be enough.
The mask he was given helped. Solid black with deep red seams, stitched in a rush with a subtle coincidental web pattern across the jawline. No logos, no spider motif—just a clean, anonymous look.
When the announcer asked for a name, Peter simply said, "Totem."
The lights dimmed. Music kicked up. The crowd roared. Then the booming voice from the ring called out, "Weighing in at 215 pounds, the challenger—TOTEM!" The crowd booed. Loudly. They didn't know him. They didn't care. They wanted him crushed.
Peter stepped into the ring and stretched his arms. He could already hear Gwen's voice in his head—"Told you Bonecrusher would be there."(AN: Maybe she just watches wrestling)
And there he was. Loud, broad, scarred, and grinning like a man about to swat a fly.
"Try not to cry, kid," he grunted. Peter said nothing.
The bell rang.
Bonecrusher charged.
Peter sidestepped.
Easy.
The crowd didn't react. Not yet. Bonecrusher came again. Peter dipped, spun behind him, rolled between his legs and flipped back to his feet in one clean, quiet motion. A few scattered claps. Then the big guy swung wide—and Spider Sense kicked in, buzzing behind Peter's eyes like a live wire.
He moved before the fist even finished its arc. Jumped to the ropes, bounced off the turnbuckle, landed behind Bonecrusher again. This time, the crowd noticed.
From there, it escalated fast. Bonecrusher threw haymakers. Peter ducked, twisted, leapt over and around every hit. He flipped off ropes, landed on his feet, sold fake stumbles.
Spider Sense wouldn't shut off. It timed everything for him. At one point, he vaulted off the top rope and spun into a fake lockup reversal that left the crowd roaring.
Even when he took hits, it was calculated. He let Bonecrusher land a power move or two, stayed down just long enough, then popped back up like it hurt. But the crowd wasn't fooled. They saw the moves. The rhythm. The style.
As for him, he was learning. Using the match as a lesson to better control his strength. All to avoid another Lizard incident.
By the final minute, they weren't chanting for Bonecrusher.
They were chanting for him.
"TO-TEM! TO-TEM! TO-TEM!"
Peter let the match end the way it was scripted. Took a finishing slam, stayed down for the three count. But when the bell rang, the crowd didn't care who won.
Backstage, the promoter handed him a thick envelope.
"You were supposed to flop," he said. "But the crowd ate it up. You've got timing, instincts. If you want in, we've got a developmental spot ready. Travel, training, promo circuit. Think about it."
Peter nodded. "Thanks. I will."
He left the warehouse alone. It was late. The street was half-lit, empty except for flickering neon and distant car horns.
Then he heard it.
A shout.
He moved fast—around the corner, down the alley.
Three guys had a couple pinned near a dumpster. One had a knife. All of them looked too comfortable.
Peter looked down at the mask in his hand.
Totem.
He slipped it back on.
"Hey," he called out.
They turned.
"You guys looking for a beating? Maybe we can help each other out."
The first guy lunged with a blade. Big mistake. Peter twisted his wrist, webbed the guy's forearm mid-swing, yanked him off balance, and clotheslined him into the alley wall.
The second thug tried to bolt—Peter hit him with a low webline to the ankle, and the guy faceplanted right into a puddle with a grunt. The third hesitated. Just a second.
Peter was already in the air, flipped over him, and pinned him flat with a knee to the back and a web to the mouth before he could call for help.
The couple had already run. Good. Peter glanced at the mess around him, then pulled the three men together and hung them from a pipe with an overlapping bundle of webs. They struggled like rats in a sock.
"You picked the wrong alley, freak," one of them snarled.
Peter tilted his head. "You're tied to a dumpster. Maybe hold off on the trash talk."
"You don't get it. This block? This side of the city? It belongs to Kingpin."
Peter froze for a beat.
"Kingpin?"
The thug spit near Peter's boot. "Yeah. And you just stepped on his money."
Peter sighed. "Right. Because stopping you from robbing people is hurting his 'business.'"
The guy kept grinning.
Peter wasn't sure what irritated him more—the name drop or the confidence.
He stepped back, checked his webwork, and gave the guy a parting punch that instantly sent him to dream land. "Tell him Totem said hi."
Then he was gone, swinging away with a grin under his mask. The fight had been thrilling and in addition, he hadn't popped another head by hitting too hard. He was getting better at fighting.
He landed behind the building two blocks from his apartment, dropped the mask into his backpack, and jogged up the fire escape. His window creaked open like always. He slipped inside and shut it behind him, careful not to wake anyone.
Or so he thought.
"Peter?" Gwen's voice called from the living room.
He winced.
"Hey babe," he said, walking in. "I thought you'd be asleep."
She wasn't alone.
Sitting across from her on the couch, legs crossed, sipping tea like she owned the place, was Felicia Hardy.
Black leather jacket. White hair tied back in a sleek tail. Smirking like she knew something she wasn't supposed to.
Peter froze halfway into the room.
"Oh no," he muttered.
Felicia grinned. "Hello, Petey-boy."
"Felicia," he said carefully. "What a surprise."
May's giggles came from her room down the hall.
"She's been spoiling May since she walked in," Gwen said. "And you weren't answering your phone."
Peter scratched the back of his head. "Dropped it… somewhere."
Felicia tilted her head, playful. "That's a shame. I was hoping we could catch up. You know, grown-up talk. Secrets. Hidden talents."
She raised an eyebrow.
Peter exhaled and sat down slowly.
This was going to be a long night.