Your own Tales of Spider-Man

If there was one thing that New York had in its favour for one particular resident, it was the sheer size of its sewer system, easily enough space to both hide and move around in while avoiding unwanted attention.

Following the loss of half of his right arm, Doctor Curtis Connors had sought a means of regaining it, turning to the study of reptiles that had such a natural restorative capability, and seeking to introduce this ability into humans. Years of research finally saw him ready to test it, and seeing no better candidate than one who’d already lost a limb, used himself as the first test subject.

It worked.

But not without cost.

As well as restoring his lost limb, it had continued to mutate him until he had become a mix between human and lizard. Unable to face his wife, Martha, he had fled into the sewers where he could hide himself away from the world, until he could find a means of reversing what he had done to himself.

Within a corner of them, he had made himself a small makeshift lab where he could conduct his work without fear of exposure. A small mat lay in a nearby corner for when he needed to sleep.

He’d spent the last several weeks gathering first the materials and equipment needed to construct his new lab, then what he needed for his plans to work. It had been difficult for him, but with some good timing, maintenance of a watchful eye, and a little bit of luck, he had gathered most of what he had needed without detection.

Not that that had been easy for him.

Taking a short break, he looked at himself. When he had fled his home, and wife, his clothes had still been in a relatively decent condition, minus the footwear which had been torn off by his far larger feet and tears by the knees of his deep-purple pants.

Now, the harsh living conditions and work had taken a toll on his attire, the entire right sleeve of his black sweater lost during a heavy fall when the waste in the dump slid on top of him as he’d been gathering supplies, leaving his right pectoral and shoulder blade bare as well, with one other tear down the left bicep to enable green scales to peek out through the dirty fabric. His old pants now more like shorts that failed to reach the knees now. Only his Lab Coat was still in a somewhat decent condition, and that was on account his tendency to leave it behind when heading out, not wishing it to suffer unnecessary damage.

Now he looked to his work, as he decided on his next course of action.