Older Peter Parker Novels & Stories

He doesn't know that the man standing before me is not the one I was supposed to be standing with. Blake Parker. Twenty-four year old Co-CEO of The Parker Brothers. A billion dollar company that deals with selling buildings for profit and pressuring people to sell their land and companies to them. He is a lady's man and sure does love his booze. He has never liked me, probably thinks I'm after his brother's money which makes me think that he has a personality disorder considering that he is always against his brother.

Layla stepped back abruptly from the man that had treated her like dirt all her life. He had aged tremendously, great wrinkles lining his entire face with a bald head. What must have happened to him?, Layla thought. She thought witches could remain young forever with their numerous spells. How was uncle Parker looking so old and scrawny? "Stay away from me!",she snapped when Parker took a step towards her. Parker stopped when he saw the flash of gold in her ruby red eyes. He wisely stopped and raised his hands as a sign of surrender. Blood slowly crawled down his elbow from where Layla had slashed him.

We'd be saving a large percentage of people with different neurological illnesses and that is worth waiting five years! The elevator door opened and I walked down the hallway until I got to my apartment door. I punched in the codes and the door unlocked but I was not prepared for the sight that welcomed me. “Surrender now, doctor octopus! You have nowhere to run to!” Alfred exclaimed with one leg on Easton's chest who laid on the floor. “Oh really? You underestimate me, Spider man. I'm not your regular villain!” And with that, Easton raised him up and threw him on the couch.

She had to protect him. She calmed herself and was about to speak. Peter said, "Enough." "You peasants! I have no time to waste with you. Chuck, take that guy down for me. Break his hands and feet first, then let me torture him slowly." Chuck was one of the subordinates Peter had brought with him. He was very powerful and had the strength of the early-stage Transformative Force. Although far inferior to Peter, he was still a great fighter. After all, ordinary people do not have the same resources and training conditions as Peter. Guided by a top Grandmaster, Peter had achieved peak-stage Transformative Force level. With further cultivation, he would definitely become a Grandmaster. There wer

But I don’t think I’ve heard of this Oltaire that you speak of. Frowning, Parker takes Uncle Ramone in as if he is an odd creature that he has never laid eyes on before. "Who are you?" He asks, sizing Uncle Ramone up. "I don’t think I’ve seen you before." Honestly, if this had been any other time, I would have gotten a kick out of the look of offense that flashed across Uncle Ramone’s face at not being recognized, especially given his pedigree, but now wasn’t the time for that. Even if Parker and his wolves were being cordial now, it didn’t mean that this would continue.

I gave her the briefest rundown of Ostara’s abduction. “Zane Cooper,” she said before I even finished. “A man with surgical precision and a toddler’s ego. Easily manipulated. Highly unstable.” I stared at her. “You know him?” “I know his type.” “And Peter?” I asked. She gave a cold little smile. “Peter Banducci always runs to old ghosts when he panics. Nova Scotia was one of his last unsolved ventures.” I blinked. “How do you know that?” Her eyes slid to mine, sharp and amused.

The news had reached them. Adrian had found the secrets buried beneath his empire. A heavy silence settled over the room, only disturbed by the rhythmic tapping of fingers against the table’s surface. A man, draped in a dark coat with a scar slashing across his jaw, exhaled sharply. "I wasn’t aware there was actually another underground where they could keep something like that," he murmured, his voice rough with irritation. His name was parker, and he was the one who handled intelligence for the masked Men.

might be putting it mildly for the dude's battle-worn look. His nose, clearly busted more than once, took a detour to the left. His eyes, small and cold, seemed to have absorbed every bit of darkness from his past. And those teeth—what was left of them—played hide and seek behind a gnarly, uneven grin that could give children nightmares. Every detail about the guy was just plain repulsive, the kind of dude you wouldn't catch me standing next to even if someone had a gun to my head. "Boys, meet Tony Parker," Dad announced and the blood froze in my veins.

Adhara, don't say that. "I have to say it, one thing I learned from the few superhero movies I know is that they have to act fairly. Parker, the Spider-Man character, didn't stop a mugger because that wasn't his problem and it was that man who minutes later, murdered his uncle for stealing a car from him or something.

Parker, my need rising higher every time he swings by the house. Mr. Joseph Parker is my dad's best friend and an Army buddy from way back. My dad resigned his commission years ago, but Mr. Parker had stayed in, doing the whole special commando thing. He's all macho, complete with black face paint and sneaking around in the middle of the night to kill bad guys. He's able to survive solely on grass and insects or something.