Marvel: Peter's Second Chance

Peter's POV:

My life is finally on a steady track. I just finished my training in the dojo. It's been a two weeks since I became Peter Parker. I have trained as much as I can and I can now proudly say that I have some muscles. With 'STING' my progress is much faster than that of others. I have a slim swimmer's build and I have also improved in my fighting skills. Next Monday my internship in the Baxter Building starts. Anyway this is me now:

Attribute Window:

Name: Peter Parker

Race: Human

Age: 13

Health: 140/140

Energy: 260/260

Stats:

Mind: 15

Body: 13

Luck: 6

Charisma: 8

Senses: 10

Rating:2🌟

Ability Tab:

No ability currently

Skill Tab:

1. Engineering, Level:20

2. Science, Level:20

3. Parkour, Level:15

4. Teaching, Level:5

5. Sketching, Level:10

6. Mathematics, Level:20

7. Meditation, Level:2

8. Capoeira, Level:8

9. MMA, Level:5

10. Sojutsu, Level:10

Traits Tab:

1. Bloom: The more difficulties the user faces, the more you learn and grow from it like a flower blooming after a storm.

2. Dormant Meta-Human: You are the next evolution of humanity. Cultivate yourself and when the right time comes, you will be reborn anew.

3.Tenacious: Even in the face of difficulties, the user will not give up and will rise to face challenges. Gives you a passive willpower boost that gives you some mental resistance.

I took up meditation to improve my metal defence if I can and I got the Tenacious trait due to my training in the dojo for capoeira, sojutsu and MMA. For some reason I have a natural talent for sojutsu. With my saturday training done, I left the dojo. As I was walking down the streets, I heard some noise come from the alleyway but I chose to ignore it. And then suddenly a hand grabbed me from behind and pulled me into the alleyway. I tried to react but a sudden blow to the back of my head disoriented me.

No One's POV:

The alley reeked of damp concrete and rust, the flickering bulb above casting jagged shadows. Peter swayed, his vision swimming—the brick one of the thugs had smashed against his skull still lay in fragments at his feet. His fingers brushed the cold wall, steadying himself, but the world tilted like a capsizing ship. "Focus. Breathe." Minato sensei's voice echoed uselessly in the ringing silence of his mind.

The first thug lunged, a switchblade glinting. Peter's capoeira instincts kicked in; he pivoted into a 'ginga', the rhythmic sway evading the slash. But his legs betrayed him—the movement stumbled, his heel catching uneven pavement. The thug laughed, a wet, guttural sound. "We got an easy catch today," he said. The second thug, bulkier, feinted left, then swung a chain. Peter ducked, but it was too slow. The links grazed his temple, reigniting the fire in his skull.

[Adrenaline forced clarity.] He spun into a 'meia-lua de compasso', the capoeira kick arcing high. His heel connected with the knife-wielder's jaw—a crack, a scream. But momentum carried Peter too far. He crashed into a dumpster, ribs blooming with pain. The remaining thug seized his hair, yanking his head back. "I'm gonna make you pay for that," he hissed, breath reeking of nicotine.

Peter's MMA training surfaced—a desperate 'guillotine choke', arms snaking around the thug's neck. He squeezed, thighs trembling as he locked the hold. The man gagged, thrashing, but Peter's grip faltered. The blow to his head pulsed like a second heartbeat, his muscles fraying. The thug slammed him against the wall. Peter's vision whited out.

He crumpled, tasting blood. The thug loomed, chain raised. Peter's fingers fumbled for the brick shard and somehow he got a proper hold and then he hurled it. A wet thud was heard. The man staggered, clutching his eye. But the knife-wielder was rising, jaw crooked, blade steadier now. Peter tried to stand, but his legs were liquid.

'This is it', he thought, back pressed to cold concrete. The thugs closed in, silhouettes bleeding into the haze. Yet his fists rose, trembling. "One more round.", Peter whispered. Always one more, afterall there is no rest for the wicked. Just then Peter remembered, that these were just ordinary thugs and that he was in a world where Powerful beings roamed the streets.

If he lost to these regular thugs, how was he going to survive in this world? How will he rise to a greater position? How will he protect Aunt May!? And then something awakened inside him. The thug's chain whistled down. Peter's arms trembled as he raised them, a feeble guard. But then, something , just shifted.

It wasn't pain. Not exactly. It felt more like a pull, like the alley itself had become a river, and the air thickened with unseen currents. The thug's swing slowed—not time, but momentum. Peter felt it in his marrow, a hum beneath his skin, as if every molecule of his battered body had suddenly remembered how to "breathe".

The chain hung mid-arc, trembling. Peter's bloodied fingers twitched. And something whispered to him "Neglect the rules." His muscles spasmed,not with weakness, but 'realignment'. The kinetic energy of the thug's strike, the wasted force of Peter's own failed kicks, the vibrations in the concrete underfoot,all of it coalesced into a single, jagged thread. His vision sharpened. The world didn't slow, 'he' accelerated.

Peter's fist lashed out, not with capoeira's grace, but with a feral, physics-defying jerk. His knuckles struck the thug's wrist, not hard, but precisely. The chain clattered to the ground as if its weight had tripled. The thug stumbled, confusion flashing in his eyes. "The hell?" the thug said in shock.

Peter didn't answer. His ribs screamed, but his veins burned with something new. He 'felt' the thug's remaining momentum, the forward lurch of his body, the unbalanced stagger. Peter's palm slapped the man's chest, not to push, but to 'steal'. A faint, serpentine glow flickered around Peter's fingertips. The thug gasped as his own kinetic energy, the force of his failed attack,ripped backward into Peter's body. It was a trickle, not a flood, but it was more than enough. Peter's legs stabilized. The dizziness receded.

The second thug lunged with the knife again, but Peter 'moved'. Not the fluid ginga of capoeira, but a stuttering, half-visible shuffle, Peter's 'Momentum Burst' burning through stolen energy. He sidestepped, the blade grazing his shirt. And then a faint, translucent disk flickered into existence at Peter's forearm, a haphazard coalescence of absorbed kinetic force. The thug's next punch struck it. The shield shattered instantly, but the impact dispersed, rattling the thug's arm like a misfiring piston.

Peter didn't hesitate. He pivoted, driving a knee upward,not to the gut, but to the thug's thigh, where his weight settled. Momentum was redirected. The man's leg buckled. Peter's elbow cracked downward, borrowing the force of the man's own collapse. A sickening crunch was heard. The thug folded and started to sob. Only the thugs sobbing could be heard.

Peter stood panting, the alley's cold air stinging his lungs. The glow around his hands faded, leaving only a faint, staticky ache in his joints. His skull throbbed, but the world… the world 'vibrated'. He could still feel it, the residual hum of every impact, every footstep, like the alley was a struck bell. The first thug groaned, clutching his shattered eye. Peter stared at his own hands. "What… was that?" Peter whispered not even caring about the thugs.

["Meta Ability Manifested."

Sub-Abilities Manifested:

1.Momentum Burst: Short, erratic speed boosts by hijacking kinetic energy.

2.Energy Chain (Fledgling): Weak siphoning of force through contact.

3.Energy Shield (Fractured): One-time dispersion of absorbed energy. Extremely Fragile.

Please choose a name for your Meta Ability.]

A screen appeared infront of a Peter who was barely concious.

The ability didn't roar to life,it 'leaked', like oil from a rusted engine. Neglect made manifest. Peter's neglect of his own limits. The thugs' neglect of the fragile boy they'd cornered. And now, the alley itself seemed to decay at the edges, the shadows swallowing the bloodstains as Peter limped toward the street,the hum in his bones a promise, or a warning. Peter just took a bottle of "STING" from his inventory and chugged it while making his way towards his apartment. He decided to deal with the new development after going and settling down. No rest for the wicked.

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Hey y'all it's your friendly author here. Hope you like this chapter and the fight scene. I'm an amature when it comes to these types of things so I had to ask for help from my friends. Anyway as many might have guessed Peter's power is related to momentum. He will get a wide array of powers in the future but for now he will start with this. I wanted a speedster Peter with something versatile than just the classical Super Speed and this is the result. Anyways

Ciao!