Ben Riley POV
"Man doesn't this take me back..." Uncle Rich remarks while staring at the display case featuring the outfit's soldiers wore back in WW1 and WW2 "your great grandfather was once a solider during World War 1 while your grandfather served in the second war."
I blink up at him "wow... so our whole family line has pretty much fought in the main wars?"
Uncle Rich nods hands clasped behind his back as he studies the faded khaki uniform behind the glass.
"Yeah...your gramps didn't like talking about it much," he says "mud, rats, trenches...not exactly bedtime stories."
"Were you ever in the army?" I ask.
"Yeah, your dad and I served for a time," a small nostalgic smile pulls at his lips "that was a different kind of hell. Much bigger toys compared to the old times."
I step closer to the display case.
There's a helmet with a dent in it. A rifle with scratches along the stock. A black-and-white photograph of young men who look way too serious for their age.
"Did you ever get shot?" I ask bluntly.
He chuckles "grazed. Once." he taps his left shoulder "your dad on the other hand had better luck. Or worse luck depending on how you look at it. He saw more action than I did."
I swallow Dad never really talked about that stuff either.
Whenever I asked, he'd just say, "It was a long time ago, Ben."
"You miss it?" I ask.
Uncle Rich actually thinks about it "I miss the men," he says finally "not the battlefield though. Never the battlefield."
We move to the next section which held gas masks, old propaganda posters, and ration books.
There was also a recreated trench that one could walk through.
I step inside it.
It's cramped and tight.
The walls rise up around me, wooden planks reinforced with sandbags.
I can almost imagine the sounds of distant artillery in my head, even though the museum is quiet except for the low murmur of other visitors.
"It's hard to believe kids not much older than you stood in places like this back then," Uncle Rich says from behind me.
"Yeah... I wouldn't last more than five minutes," I mutter.
He snorts "nah you'd complain about the mud for the first four."
"Come on that is so not true Uncle Rich!" I argued.
We step back out into the open hall.
Sunlight streams through the tall windows, dust floating in the beams.
"Were you, Dad, or Grandpa ever scared?" I suddenly asked.
"Everyone's scared of something Ben," he replies without hesitation "anyone who says they aren't is either lying or not at all well in the head," Uncle Rich finishes.
We continue through the exhibit, turning a corner into a more modern science wing the museum recently added.
Further ahead I can see a small crowd gathered around a demonstration table.
"Genetic cross-species research," the sign reads.
My interest spikes immediately.
Behind the glass enclosure sits a contained habitat of branch's, fake leaves, and a small ventilation system humming softly.
A researcher in a lab coat was explaining something about enhanced adaptability and cellular regeneration.
"And through controlled gene splicing," the researcher says, "we're studying how certain arachnids exhibit remarkable structural resilience-"
"Arachnids?" I perk up.
Inside the enclosure, several spiders crawl lazily across the branches.
Most are small and harmless-looking.
Except one.
It's darker than the others almost a glossy black with faint crimson markings across its abdomen.
It moves differently more deliberate like it knows it's being watched.
"Ben, don't tap the glass," Uncle Rich warns lightly.
"I'm not," I whisper back.
The researcher continues talking about funding and ethical review boards and something about private investors.
I only half-listened though.
Because that black spider is climbing higher up toward the ventilation grate.
There's a soft pop.
A flicker in the overhead light.
Someone mutters, "did the power just—"
The ventilation hum sputters and the spider is gone.
I blinked "uh... Uncle Rich?" I called out.
Before he can respond, something sharp pricks the side of my neck "ah!" I slap at it instinctively.
A tiny sting like a wasp "what happened?" Uncle Rich asks immediately.
"Something bit me," I grumbled in irritation he turns me by the shoulders "let me see."
There's a small red mark just below my collar "it's probably just a normal spider," he says, scanning the floor "you alright kiddo?"
"Yeah," I mutter "barely hurt."
The researcher is apologizing to the crowd about a "minor containment malfunction," assuring everyone it's harmless.
Harmless.
Right.
Uncle Rich gives me a look "if you start sprouting extra limbs, I'm charging admission."
"Haha very funny uncle Rich," I grumbled.
But honestly? I feel...perfectly fine.
We leave the museum not long after. The sky's darker now, clouds rolling in over the silhouette of the Big Ben tower.
My neck tingles a little, but I chalk it up to imagination.
By the time we get home, I've basically forgotten about it.
Aunt Mary is waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed "you're late," she says immediately.
"Traffic," Uncle Rich replies.
"And why is there a note from the school in my email?" she asks.
I freeze.
Uncle Rich clears his throat "we handled it honey."
Mary turns those sharp blue eyes of her's on me "Benjamin Riley."
"It wasn't my fault," the words slipup from my mouth automatically.
"That's what you always say," Aunt Mary replied in a stern tone.
I grit my teeth I was beginning to get really tired of this, as usual I am the one at fault instead of the actual person.
I know Uncle Rich and Aunt Mary want me to be the bigger man, but I can't help it as soon as Flash opened his stupid mouth about my parent's rage took over.
"You can't just solve everything with your fists," Aunt Mary continues the same scolding that Uncle Rich gave me earlier.
"I didn't!" I finally shouted "he's the one who started it-"
"Enough," she snaps "I expect better from you."
Something hot flares in my chest.
"I said I didn't do anything!" I shout.
Mary looks startled and Uncle Rich steps in slightly.
"Ben-" he starts but I cut him off "you know what screw this I am going to my room."
"Ben!" Uncle Rich shouts but I'm already stomping up the stairs.
My door slams harder than I meant it to.
I stand there for a second, chest heaving, staring at the wood grain like it personally offended me.
"Unbelievable," I mutter.
Downstairs I can faintly hear Aunt Mary's voice "you're too soft on him, Richard."
"I already gave him a talk about what he did," Uncle Rich fires back though his tone is calmer "besides he's just a kid, Mary this is what they do."
"And that's exactly why we have to correct him now," Aunt Mary replies sharply "before he thinks anger is the answer to everything."
Their voices blur together after that.
Upstairs I pressed my back against the door and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor.
"Great," I mutter to myself "the day was going just fine and I had to ruin it way to go Riley ten out of ten."
My neck itches again.
I reach up and scratch just below my collar where the spider bit me earlier.
The skin feels... warmer than the rest of me.
Probably just irritation.
I push myself up and flop onto my bed face-first.
"I didn't even hit the little shit that hard," I mumble into my pillow.
A strange wave rolls through my stomach.
I freeze "...Okay that's new."
It feels like I just stepped off a rollercoaster my head spins slightly. I sit up too fast and immediately regret it.
The room tilts.
"What the-!" my palms press into the mattress to steady myself.
Another wave hits me stronger this time.
Heat floods my veins like someone injected lava straight into my bloodstream. My heart starts pounding in my ears. My vision sharpens unnaturally I can see the tiny crack in the paint near my window from across the room. I can hear the faint ticking of the kitchen clock downstairs. The hum of the refrigerator.
The sound of my own pulse.
"Okay... okay that's not normal."
My fingers curl into my sheets tightly
A violent shiver runs through me while my muscles seize up all at once.
"Ah!" I fall sideways off the bed and hit the floor.
Another surge of heat explodes from the bite mark at my neck and spreads across my body like lightning under my skin. My back arches involuntarily while my teeth grit so hard that my jaw begins to ache.
It feels like something is ripping me from the inside out.
"Uncle-!" I try to call out but my voice dies in my throat as my vision doubles.
The ceiling spins.
Every sound becomes unbearably loud.
My own heartbeat becomes a drum.
Thump!
Thump!!
Thump!!!
I scramble for my bed, but my hand hits the side of my desk instead.
The entire desk shifts several inches across the floor.
My knees buckle.
The heat spikes one last time white-hot and agonizing.
And then Orpheus takes me.
The world goes dark as I collapse half-off and half-on my bed.
Downstairs, Aunt Mary and Uncle Richard are still arguing quietly.
They don't hear the thud and I don't wake up.
*Unknown Realm POV*
She's been confined to this realm and her duties for so long that she feels lonely but that's okay she's used to it now.
Even more so when the Gods and Humanity ceased to co-exist together.
Suddenly she felt it...someone had entered her realm and not by natural means either.
For the first time in many centuries, she smiled and proceeded to transform into a giant Arachnoid one of the creatures associated to her.
She not only was the Goddess of the Underworld but the God of Spiders as well.
-end of chapter one-
Let me know your thoughts so far.
Should mention that Ben Rieley is currently in 8th Grade and 14 years old. By the time F/SN comes around he'll be 15/16ish haven't really decided yet.
Yes, I can confirm that 'she' is in fact Ereshkigal. In Earth 90214 she's actually the Spider-God who gives Spider-Man Noir his powers.
Powerset List for Ben will include Natural Web-Shooting, Enhanced Body, Spider-Sense, Invisibility, Bio-Electricity Shots, Regeneration, Wall-Crawling, Telescopic Vision, Night Vision, and has Advanced Longevity.
He excels in both science, mathematics, and later in the future picks up computer programing similar to the other variants of Spiderman.
However, unlike them he has no intention of becoming anything related to those fields or photography but rather wants to become a Private Eye/Detective.