The abandoned warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic, its cracked windows and rusted metal exterior cloaked in shadows. Inside, faint beams of moonlight slipped through broken panels in the ceiling, illuminating a dusty concrete floor littered with old crates and rusting equipment. The air was thick with the scent of oil and rust—a perfect place to test new powers without prying eyes.
Ben Reily paced nervously, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. He still couldn't believe what was happening. Just days ago, he was a regular teenager struggling to survive high school and a minimum-wage job. Now, thanks to a glitching spider, he was about to train as… a superhero.
"Alright, let's do this!" Johnny Storm's voice boomed from across the room.
Ben turned to see Johnny setting up an old tripod with a clunky video camera balanced on top. He tilted his head in confusion. "Uh… what's the camera for?"
Johnny smirked, adjusting the angle like a professional filmmaker. "For our kids and grandkids. They'll want to know how it all started when you become the superhero of New York. Gotta document the journey!"
Ben couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You're such a dork."
But deep down, the idea struck something deeper within him—a sense of purpose. His whole life, he'd felt like an outsider, someone drifting through the world unnoticed. Being a superhero… maybe it could give his life meaning. Maybe it could make him matter.
Johnny clapped his hands together. "Alright, first test: super strength. See that metal beam over there?" He pointed to a heavy steel support beam lying on the ground, rusted and half-buried in old debris. "Let's see if you can lift it."
Ben nodded and approached the beam. He took a deep breath, crouched down, and wrapped his fingers around the cold steel. With a grunt, he heaved upward—and the beam practically flew into the air like it weighed nothing. His eyes widened.
"Whoa…"
Johnny's jaw dropped. "You just lifted that like it was a baseball bat!"
Ben grinned, tossing the beam lightly into the air and catching it like it was a toy. He even spun it around his back, showing off a bit.
Johnny crossed his arms. "Alright, show-off."
Ben chuckled, gently setting the beam back down. "What's next?"
"Speed," Johnny announced. He pointed across the massive warehouse. "Run from this end to the far wall. Let's see what you've got."
Ben crouched into a runner's stance, his heart pounding with excitement. He bolted forward, the wind whipping past his face as he blurred across the floor. It wasn't Flash-level speed, but he was definitely faster than any normal human.
Johnny whistled, clearly impressed. "Okay, not bad! Not Flash fast, but you could probably outrun a car on the freeway."
Ben jogged back, adrenaline coursing through him. "I could feel the air pressure shifting when I ran… this is insane."
Johnny nodded. "Let's try jumping." He pointed toward the high ceiling beams. "Think you can reach those?"
Ben took a few steps back and launched himself upward with all his strength. He shot into the air like a rocket, easily slapping the rusted metal beam with his hand before landing gracefully back on the ground.
"That was… awesome!" Johnny cheered.
Ben couldn't help but grin—this was starting to feel real.
"Alright, last one," Johnny said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "We know you can stick to walls… but maybe you can do more."
They both stared at Ben's wrists in silence.
Ben frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Try… I don't know… shooting something."
Ben hesitated but held out his wrist and focused. For a moment, nothing happened—but then a strange tingling sensation built up in his arm. With a sudden thwip! a stream of web-like substance shot from his wrist, sticking to a metal crate across the room.
"AHHH!" Both teens screamed, stumbling back in shock.
Johnny stared, wide-eyed. "Dude… did you just…?"
Ben stared at his wrist in horror. "What just came out of me?!"
Another thwip! fired uncontrollably, hitting the wall.
Johnny cringed. "That's… really gross."
Ben grimaced, trying to shake the weirdness off. "Yeah… seriously creepy… but kind of cool."
After a few more attempts, he started gaining control over the web-shooting, practicing swinging lines across the warehouse. Despite the weirdness, it felt… right.
Later That Night — Johnny's Apartment
Back at Johnny's tiny apartment, they both collapsed on the worn-out couch, exhausted but exhilarated. They'd spent hours testing Ben's abilities, pushing his limits until they could barely move.
Ben sighed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. "I can't believe this is real."
Johnny sat up with sudden energy. "You know what's missing?"
Ben raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"A suit."
Ben blinked. "You're joking."
Johnny jumped off the couch, heading straight for Ben's cluttered closet. "I'm serious! You can't be running around in that."
He rifled through old clothes until something caught his eye. "Aha!"
He pulled out a worn red-and-blue zip-up hoodie from Ben's middle-school days and tossed it onto the couch. Next, he grabbed a pair of old shoulder pads and knee pads from a dusty sports bag. "This is it," Johnny declared triumphantly.
Ben tilted his head. "You're putting me in a hoodie?"
"For now!" Johnny insisted. "It's cool, rugged, and low-profile. Plus, you're broke. This works."
They spent the next hour assembling the makeshift suit. They spray-painted a crude white spider symbol across the chest of the hoodie and added black gloves they found in the closet. The result wasn't perfect—but it felt right.
Johnny stood back, admiring their work. "Now that is a superhero."
Ben adjusted the hood, checking himself out in the mirror. He couldn't deny it—he looked like someone ready to fight crime.
Johnny grinned. "So… what's your hero name?"
Ben paused, thinking. His mind raced with possibilities until one stuck—a name that felt iconic, powerful, and uniquely his.
He turned to Johnny with a determined look.
"The Amazing Spider-Man."
Johnny smirked, holding out his fist. "I dig it."
They bumped fists, sealing their new mission. New York didn't know it yet… but its newest protector was ready for whatever came next.