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The handcuffs around Peter's wrists rattled behind his back as he was led through the prison corridors. James Jonas Jameson was jabbering on beside him as the two security guards behind and in front of him kept marching down the dull colored corridors in a stony silence.

Peter shifted his arms a bit, feeling the cold silvery steel of the cuffs digging into his restrained wrists as they kept walking through the quiet prison.

This was not what he expected when he arrived to work today.

Getting his hands pulled behind his back by two waiting police officers and handcuffed a moment later before he could even voice his thoughts or objections when he arrived at James' office after that he had called him in had not been one of the things he thought would happen to him today. Or ever.
And even when James explained the what's and why's as Peter had struggled against his restraints and the officers vice-like hold on his arms, Peter wasn't okay with it.
He really wasn't given a choice in the matter, even if James said that he did. Especially since all of the basis of what was going on was being explained to him as he was lead through the office, his hands behind his back as he was walked towards a waiting prisoner escort truck waiting for him outside the building.

At least James joined him for the ride to the prison, explaining things further as Peter was secured in a waiting seat. As if he really was a high-security, flight risk criminal. He even had guards seated next to him for crying out loud.

And during that tension-filled journey in the confined space of the prison transport, James explained everything in less hurried details.

It wasn't as if Peter couldn't do anything else but listen to him. Or as if he had a choice in the matter.

First off: He wasn't under arrest. No matter how it looked like it right now. And when they arrived at the prison that they were going to, he wasn't going to be a prisoner there either. No matter how it looked.

It apparently had a lot to do with papers and contracts of various kinds.

Second: His school and his aunt were being informed of the situation as they spoke.

Thirdly: The reason behind all of this was that James, or rather, The Daily Bugle had been contacted by the warden of the prison that housed most, if not all of Spiderman's captured enemies to date. It was the same prison that previously had built a special cell that was meant to be inescapable that had its merits tested on Spiderman some time ago.

They had apparently built a brand new, highly specialized maximum security cell. With brand new rules for the personnel of the prison to work with regarding the inmate of the cell. And just like last time, they wanted documentation and see if the cell lived up to its expectations. But instead of wanting to go and find Spiderman again to test the cell for the duration of whatever time limit that they had set up for the test, they had contacted James and The Daily Bugle and asked if he was willing to let one of his writers test the cell for them.

James had apparently jumped at the chance and taken it without question and had chosen Peter out of all of the writing crew at the paper.

Peter would have liked to have known that before he was handcuffed, shoved into a prison transport and basically treated like a criminal and told his boss as much.

- Don't worry Peter. The choice to accept this honor is all yours. All you need to do to get out of those straps, cuffs and this car is to say "No". Just a simple "No" will do and you will go free and we will pretend like this never happened and I will go and choose someone else for the task. James explained evenly, his expression cold and none judging.

Peter went quiet for a moment, mulling over his choices.
If he said "No", then someone else would have to go through what he just went through. Just probably a bit more informed then he was.

But in the end, James had already made his choice for him already. And he kinda hated his boss for that.

- It's not like I really have a choice in the matter. You've already told my school and Aunt May of the situation. So I might as well go through with it anyway now that everything has already been prepared for me. Peter relented with a sigh of defeat as he shifted in his bonds and tried to get comfortable now that he was going through with it.
James grinned at him.
- Perfect Peter! I'd knew you would agree to it! You're never one not to go head first into unknown territory if that nose of yours has picked up the scent of a great scoop! James had shouted gleefully before he sat back down as the truck went over a few bumps in the road.

Then, as Peter thought over James' words and his own decision, James put his hand in his pocket and sent a message away.

It was only later that Peter would learn that neither his aunt or his school were informed of his absence and the situation around until AFTER he had agreed to the whole thing.
Peter wasn't happy when he found THAT out. He REALLY wanted to punch in his bosses' nose after that.

Eventually, the journey came to an end when the truck came to a stop and the doors were opened, drowning the dark space in light again. It nearly blinded Peter and James for a second.

Then James was ordered to vacate the car so that they could prepare Peter for the escort.

Once James was fully out of the vehicle, with both feet on the grounds, the officers on either side of Peter stood up and were joined by a pair of prison guards who walked up to Peter, undid all the straps keeping him locked to his seat before they grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

After that, the guards took the lead as the officers walked up behind Peter, with the officers grabbing hold of his wrists while the guards pulled him forward by the shoulders.
And when Peter's eyes had readjusted to the full force of the daylight sun he saw that yes, it was indeed the same prison that he had escaped as Spiderman half a year ago.

Rikers Island Penitentiary.

It was still the same dull colored, block-shaped building with wire fences on either side of the water canal that went around it.

Peter was guided through the prisoner entry point while James was guided through the visitor's gate.

The two didn't meet up again until Peter had been freed from his handcuffs and given a bundle of orange clothes that were meant to be roughly his size. He did give them his measurements after all.

Then he was shoved into an empty room and told to change into the clothes that he was given. And that he should fold up the clothes that he was wearing at the moment as neatly as he possibly could. They were meant to become a bundle the same size and of the same neatness as the bundle he had just been given.

The clothes he was going to wear for the foreseeable future were: A pair of brown, none descript slip-on shoes. A plain white sleeveless T-shirt. And, to really hammer the feeling home, a two-piece, zipper up orange prison uniform with a white, empty tag on the left side. Right over his heart.

Peter had barely started taking his clothes off after having stared at the five pieces of clothes he was going to be wearing for some time ahead when the door opened and James stepped inside.
- I was just told that they are still preparing the final parts of the cell that you are going to be staying in while here. So you can take your time. James said as he went through the door and closed it behind him before he walked up to Peter, ignoring his red face.
- Since you're here anyway, you might as well help me get everything the way they want it to be. Peter said with a grunt as he pulled off his sweater and threw it at James.
- Sure. Just don't get used to bossing me around Peter, or I will have you charged for insubordinate behavior and have you locked up here for real. And then it probably won't be as pleasant as your stay here presumably is going to be. James shot back as he pulled the sweater off his face and started straightening it out and folding it together.
Peter raised an eyebrow at James' statement, but he didn't elaborate.

Eventually, Peter got out of his regular clothes and into the prison outfit while James finished up folding his clothes into a neat, small, square-shaped bundle.
The uniform was a bit too big for him. It hung loosely over his rather slim, but muscular body in an overly baggy fashion.

James left the room with his bundled up clothes in hand, saying that he was going to hand it to the staff so that they could put his personal belongings in storage. But not before telling him to go through the door on the opposite side of the room now that he had his new clothes on. With the parting words that the people on the other side had been waiting for him.

On the other side of the door was where Peter got his prisoner profile mugshots taken. Front, back, left, right.
And also took his height and weight.
They really went all out with going through the whole "Prisoner Introduction" procedure.

And it was there that he was given his "Prisoner Identification Number".
It was: 1962-08-15.
For some reason, that number made something tingle in Peter's body when he first saw it.
But at the same time, he really didn't like being stripped down and identified with a number.

Peter really didn't care about anything else that the stood on the "Prisoner Information Sign" that he was made to hold while his mugshots were taken.

He was to busy being put off by the dehumanizing feeling of the whole procedure to care enough to look at what the sign said at the time.

In hindsight, he really should have.

Once the mugshots were done, the four security guards that had been waiting patiently at one side of the room walked up to him.
They had been eying him through the whole procedure and after a few short greetings and a few "Nothing personal" and "Just following procedure" from them, one of them asked him to put his hands back behind his back.

Peter let out a tired sigh as he did and shortly after felt his hands being handcuffed back together again.
Then his number tag was printed out and put in its place above his heart.

After that, they lined up around him and told him to follow them. Peter didn't say that he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

James was waiting for them on the other side of the exit door from the photo room and joined Peter as he was escorted through the prison towards his cell.

And that was how he ended up where he was. Being led through a prison as a prisoner in all but name. Treated as a high priority flight risk and threat. With his boss jabbering on beside him with pointless platitudes and reassurances.

Apparently, his aunt would be allowed to send his stuff to him and the school would send him the homework and assignments that he would be missing while he rotted behind bars.

Those small blessings were to little comfort for Peter, who now had nothing but those small things hanging over his head.

He really hoped that Daredevil, Deadpool, Black Cat and The Fantastic Four could fill up for him while he was gone from the streets.

Peter put an end to James monologue by asking the question he had been meaning to ask ever since he was informed of his upcoming task.

- Is all of this really necessary? Peter asked as they continued walking through the seemingly endless corridors filled with one identical cell after the other.

He wished he didn't ask.

- Yes! Of course, it is Peter. While you may not officially be a prisoner in this whole ordeal, you are still meant to be treated like a prisoner in the fancy new cell that the prison has built that you are here to test. So even if you haven't done anything wrong, for this experience to be as genuine as possible, you need to experience everything that you would experience if you really were the kind of prisoner that would be incarcerated within the cell. Now, remember Peter. You are going to be treated as a mixture of all the kinds of prisoners that new special cell is designed for. That being a squealer. Someone with enough to make their stay as luxurious as a vacation. And as a High Value and Powerful Political Prisoner. And per our agreement, you are also tasked to test the escapability of the high-security isolation cell to see just how inescapable and unpenetrable the cell really is over your task to document your treatment on a daily basis. Once you have been locked up in the cell, you are free to make yourself as at home as you can. You aren't going to see the other side of the bars for 4 months after all. Ha ha ha. Jameson happily answered him as he put a hand on his left shoulder and turned his head towards him. Never breaking stride as he spoke.
Peter sighed heavily in defeat. The time of turning back has long since passed by now.
- Fine. Peter said with an annoyed sigh.

But at least he knew what he was going to be doing now for the foreseeable future.

Even if 4 months was a while.

A long while at that.

Peter went back to being contemplatively silent and allowed Jameson to fill the silence left from their short dialogue, leading him to prattle on about his task and some pointless platitudes and reassurances as he thought of his decision once more.

When looking up to a 4-month absence from the rest of the world, maybe "No" would have been the better decision in the end.

James' hand on his shoulder was far from reassuring him right now.

Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor and Peter's eyes went wide at just the sight of the outside of the cell that they were heading towards.

It was HUGE!

And that was only from the front!

A square, opaque white glass walls made up the front of the cell and the square itself took up twice, if not four times as much room as the cells that they had passed on their way here.

Peter did some quick math in his head together with his observations as they came closer and closer to the cell. And the closer they came, the more he realized.

The cell was four times as big as a regular cell in the prison. It was wide enough to fit four regular sized cells in it alone. And by the looks of things. What with the roof being a lot higher up on this level than on the previous level. And with the square wall of opaque glass reaching the top of the ceiling while still retaining its square shape, it was as tall as four cells stacked on top of one another.

And given that the corridor that the cell occupied was approaching a lot faster then Peter was expecting, Peter would take a wager that the cell was four times as deep as a regular cell.

That was potentially a lot of space for him to occupy for the foreseeable future.

And from what he could see, there were no other cells near the cell. On either side of the cell.

In fact, looking back on what they had passed on their way, Peter couldn't recall passing a single cell on their way through the floor.

There was only one cell on this entire floor.

And it was the cell that he was going to be occupying for four whole months.

He would have the whole floor of the prison for himself.

All to himself in his confined lonesome.

Now that was a horrifying thought.

Peter shivered hard enough to nearly stop as he began to feel queasy. The chains of his handcuffs rattled as he tried to take a steadying breath.

- You okay there Peter? James asked beside him, his voice dropping the bravado for a second as he turned his head halfway towards him and gave him a surprisingly concerned look.
- Ye-yea-yeah......Peter said weakly, his body trembling as he lowered his head and kept his gaze on the dull grey metal floor instead of the rapidly approaching wall of opaque glass.
- There is still the option of saying "No" to all of this and backing away if you don't fell up to it anymore, kid. James said reassuringly as he turned towards Peter and leveled his eyes at him. Jame's tone was surprisingly soft and reassuring and his eyes showed some genuine concern and understanding.
Peter came to a stop, making the whole escort team stop as Peter shifted in his handcuffs as he averted his gaze from his boss' for a second or two.
- I am already here. Handcuffed, mugshot taken, suited up and all. And the cell is right there. It's too late for seconds thoughts now. Peter said with a resigned voice as he turned himself back towards the white wall that loomed before him.
- Look, kid. No one would blame you for wanting to back down from this. I can only imagine how hard it must be for someone being cut off from everyone that they care about and the rest of the world for 4 whole months. James said understandingly as he put a reassuring hand on Peter's back.
Peter let out a tired, exhausted and resigned breath before he seemed to steel himself for what he was going to.
- It's not like anyone else but Aunt May wants to see me right now. Peter said morosely in a melancholic voice with a somber look in his eyes. Peter said as he turned his head fully away from James and towards the cell in front of him and started walking again.

The moment that Peter started walking, so did everyone else.

- Hey, don't sell yourself, short kid. James said as he picked up the pace and caught back up to Peter before giving him a reassuring smack on the back that justled him enough to nearly make him falter in his steps again.
The chain of the handcuffs restraining Peter's hands rattled as he stumbled forward from the impact.
Yet even when James appeared beside him again, he didn't say anything.
- I'm sure there are more people then your aunt that are going to miss you while you're gone. James said as placatingly and as softly as he could manage.
- I'm not so sure of that. Peter said morosely as he kept his gaze locked on his home for the next four months onward.
- You do know that "Absence makes the heart grow fonder", right? James fired back, an argumentative growl curling in the back of his throat.
- Yes. Or the distance further. Peter said sullenly.

James closed his mouth with a click of his teeth before he crossed his arms and let out a sigh of resignation.

Maybe Peter would benefit from some time of introspection?

James shook his head as he kept walking beside Peter.

The guards parted ways and Peter saw the door that would seal his fate and keep him from the rest of the world for the next few months.

It was a single, simple rectangle cut through the left side of the opaque white glass, with the borders of the door being made from thick strips of metal.

The same treatment was given to the surprisingly large slide open window that was placed in the door at the hand height for a regular adult male.

It was a surprisingly large opening in the door for being the only thing that would open regularly in a door that was meant to be kept closed. The rectangular hole that it would leave behind seemed to be large enough to get a surprisingly large plate through the opening.

The doors were cut right out of the glass and the openings that they created were reinforced with worked in mechanism made from extra durable and thick metal.

Peter could tell from just a quick once-over glance of the only opening in the whole wall that the door was hardly going to budge, no matter what anyone did on either side of the door.

The cell was made to keep anyone uninvited out and the one inside from getting out. And that was what it looked like it did.

The six-man entourage walked out of the straight corridor that they had been walking through for a while now and exited into the empty corridor on the other side.

The warden of the prison was waiting beside the door. As was two more security guards placed on either side of the door.

James split off from the group and walked ahead of them to talk to the warden for a bit as Peter and the guards kept their pace as they walked out into the corridor and to the left. Towards the waiting door.

- You certainly took your time. The warden said gruffly as the guards walked past him, Peter walking silently between them.

Peter didn't even turn to look at him as the small group passed him. He just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. The faster he got locked up, the better. At least then he would have some time to think for himself and not have his decisions made for him again.

- Yeah, sorry about that pal. Peter got cold feet a few times. James said placatingly as he sauntered up to the stocky, white-bearded man.

- I don't blame the boy for having second thoughts about this. He looks far to young to even be remotely comfortable with being locked up here. Even if there are worse places to be locked up then this beauty. The warden explained while both he and James watched the four guards escort Peter to the door.

The moment that they did, James excused himself from the warden's side and walked over to Peter and the guards.

Peter was a mixture of numbness, exhaustion, and resignation as he looked at the plain, opaque white wall made from 10 layers of a thick bullet and force resistant glass, mixed with 20 layers of twice as thick and resistant plastic in between.

At least the guards that were guarding the door were kind enough to tell him that much.

Then the two guards ahead of him split up while the other guard put in a code in a code lock before going through a whole identification procedure before the door jutted into the opposite wall with a mechanical hiss of force.

The two guards in front of him closed the space in front of him again before the two walked in ahead of him.

Then the two guards behind him pushed him forward and Peter marched into the cell.

The two guards blocked his immediate view of the inside of the cell. But he didn't care much about that right now.

He cared more about the fact that he couldn't see ANYTHING of what he just walked past through the opaque glass wall.

As well as the distinctive feeling of one guard grabbing hold of his wrists while the other justled with his handcuffs before they came undone.

Peter blinked as his whole body shook as his hands were suddenly no longer restrained behind his back.

But he had barely had a chance to move his hands around and start rubbing his sore wrists before the two guards in front of him turned around and walked past him, through the door behind him. Prompting him to turn around as well.

Only to see the guards leaving the cell.

- Lunch is in two hours. Was the last guard's parting words to him before they exited the cell.

And James and the warden standing in the middle of the corridor, perfectly in view from the opening in the wall.

- Goodbye, Peter. See you in four months. James said with a booming voice as he waved Peter goodbye.

- Goodbye. Peter said lowly, his voice thick as all that he could see was the backs of the guards, a tiny fraction of the corridor, the gate guards elbows, one of which faced his way, James, and the warden.

Then the door slammed shut with an aggressive mechanical hiss.

And the moment that one side of the door met the other, there was a distinctive whirr and hiss of the door being vacuum sealed in place.

Perfect.

Now he was alone.

With only the silence that was filled by his breathing as his only company for the next sixteen weeks of his life.

Peter let out a sigh as he looked at the white door and wall, barely able to tell the two apart if it wasn't for the metal that lined the outer parts of the door.

Then, while still rubbing his sore wrists, he turned around and looked at the place where he was going to be staying for four months.

And his eyes went wide once more.

He really should have paid more attention to what James said.

Because just like getting arrested was the furthest thing he thought would happen to him today, the cell that he found himself in right now was the furthest thing from a cell that he had ever seen.

It was more of a luxury apartment than anything even remotely related to a prison cell.

While the walls and the ceiling were made from the same dull dark grey metal as the walls, floor, and ceiling on the other side of the opaque glass wall behind him, the floor of the cell was made out of black marble.

Simple, yet powerful lights shone softly down from the ceiling. Each light placed in a 4x4 pattern that spread their light across the cell equally. The light wasn't too harsh or bright, nor was it soft enough to barely make a difference in the cell. Peter was just thankful that the lights weren't blinding.

Stepping forward, while still rubbing his sore wrists, Peter looked across the cell.

Elegant and regal looking carpets covered the majority of the floor. The carpet took up 3 fourths of the cell floor. The only areas that it didn't cover was right near the entrance, where two rows of marble floor panels served as the entrance area to the cell. And the area at the back of the cell. Otherwise, the carpet went from one side of the room to the next.

Taking a step onto the soft carpet and pulling his eyes away from the fancy and intricate pattern on the carpet, Peter took a look at what made up the main area of the cell.

On the left, there was a desk next to a heavily bolted ventilation door. And on the desk, Peter could see his folded up computer waiting for him at the desk.
A large, wheeled chair that looked comfortable just to look at waited for him in front of the desk, right by the border of the floor carpet.

Beside the desk was a large open area of space before the built-in toilet jutted out of the wall together with a cleaning area.

It seemed as if the cell was a one-room apartment with how it had everything that one would need to manage in the same room without any walls.

The silver toilet had a fold-down cover and it was the only thing that didn't seem to be of the same high quality or class as everything else around it. And it, beyond the clothes that Peter was wearing at the moment, served as a reminder that even though he was locked up in a luxury apartment, he was still in a prison.

Above it was a motion sensor, probably for flushing and beside it was a built-in toilet paper roller, with the paper already there. But with no spare rolls in sight.

Right beside the toilet on the left was a silver sink and faucet. A soap dispenser was attached to the wall a bit above and to the right of the faucet. One of his hand towels from home hung on a dull silver hook left of the sink.

A bit away from the toilet was a blessing and a relief for Peter.

The room had its own private shower.

Thank Fuck for that.

And unlike the toilet, the shower looked like it belonged in the room.

Half circle shaped with a raised area, with 90-degree curved glass doors with golden handles, a back made out of dark brown, shiny wood and with a deep sea blue tiled floor. The back of the shower was flush with the wall of the cell, so when he closed the half circle cubicles, he would still be able to see the whole room. At least until he closed his eyes during the shower.

Three of his towels from his bathroom at home hung on a three-leveled warming towel rack between the toilet and the shower.

At the other end of the room, placed close to the end of the carpet on the right, perfectly slotted between the carpet and the metal wall was a big, red colored bed with a body made out dark brown mahogany. And resting on the perfectly made covers on the bed were several pairs of his underwear. Each and every one of them neatly folded up into square-shaped bundles. No doubt done by the prison personnel.

A bit further down on the right was another piece mahogany furniture. This one more like low-level desk than anything. It was placed flush against the wall and taking up most of the top of the desk was a large, wide screen, high definition, simulated 3d TV. First class.

Peter had to whistle at that.

And below the Tv, on the first level below the Tv where several gaming consoles. All of them deactivated, but all of them just waiting for activation.

Beneath the consols, on the level below it, was a whole slew of games for the various consoles. All of them, Peter noted had something either do with police work or crime, with games like GTA 4 & 5, to L.A Noir.

Perfectly aligned with the TV desk was a double floor mahogany table with both its center and lower level made out of clear glass. The wood of the table, just like the bed was intricately and regally sculpted to look as luxurious and welcoming as possible.

The wide sofa was the same story as the table, as its legs, the center of the armrests and the foundation of the back were made out of mahogany. The rest and the majority of the sofa at that were covered in plush, thick, red cushions that looked to be incredibly soft from where Peter was standing.

Peter noted that if he had a need to rush to the toilet, he only needed to walk around the left corner of the sofa to get to the toilet.

He had to quirk his lips at that thought. The one-room apartment design wasn't so bad for him if it meant that he could watch Tv from the toilet.

Then his attention was drawn to the two remotes that were lying on the table.

One of them was obviously for the Tv, whose red light was just waiting to turn green at the push of the "On" button on the remote.

The second one piqued his interest enough to pick it up and inspect it.

It was a black rectangular device that looked like a mixture of a remote and a walkie-talkie.

The lower part of the device housed a microphone, with the speaker placed at the top of the device. Two push in buttons were on either side of the speaker and Peter guessed that he would have to push them both in at the same time to speak.

Inbetween the speaker and the microphone was what looked like a thermostat, with two circular dials on either side. One with a red half circle arrow going up on the left and a blue half circle arrow going downward on the right.

Peter pushed in the two buttons and when he heard the microphone click, he raised it to his mouth and asked the question that he wanted to ask.
- Um...Hello?..Wh...Um.What is this? What am I holding right now? Peter asked the device.
And not a second after he had voiced his question, the speaker crackled.
- Hello to you too, Peter. The brusque voice of the warden crackled through the speaker to Peter's surprise.
- What you are currently holding in your hands right now is the Cell Remote. The Warden explained once the greetings were over.
- Cell Remote? Peter asked curiously as he inspected the Cell Remote further.
- Yes, Peter. With that remote in your hand, you can control every part of your cell. The temperature with the sliders above the call buttons. And the lights, with the slide between the thermostat and the microphone. But that is not all. If there is anything that you want, ANYTHING, a second lunch, a massage, a bath or something else that isn't a change in clothes, or you being released from your cell prematurely, just use the call feature and ask for it. The warden elaborated as Peter's eyes went wide in shock.
- What?! Anything?! Really!? Peter asked in surprised shock, his eyes wide as he sat down on the sofa.
The moment he did, he felt the softness of the high-quality cushions beneath his rear and a second later, he leaned his back against the back cushions and started to relax a whole lot more.
- Yes. Anything. Mostly. Within limitations, of course. The warden said as Peter let out a sigh as he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a moment to just enjoy the sofa that was softer than his own bed.

If the sofa was this good, then he wondered just how good the bed would be.

- So.....This is basically my room-service phone? Peter asked after a moment of thinking about the warden's words after having pushed himself back to the present.
- Yes. Basically. But don't overdo it, okay? The warden admitted after a moment of silence.
- Okay. Peter said as he heaved himself off the far too comfortable couch and continued inspecting his new home for the next few months.

A home that started looking more and more welcoming by the seconds he stayed within its walls.

Then he hit the buttons again and started asking a few questions that immediately came to mind.

And once he had asked his questions, the Warden quickly got to answer them.

He didn't need to worry about the plumbing in the toilet. The pipes attached to it went separately from the waste pipes in the rest of the prison. They took a completely different route and didn't even share the same cleaning facility. The water in the silver throne in his cell was actually cleaner then it was in its many twins on the lower levels. Peter didn't need to know that.

The ventilation system was a similar story.

There were four large ventilation ports spread throughout the room. Two in the ceilings and two in level with the floor. One beside his personal desk and one beneath the observation desk. The four ventilation tunnels were all connected to each other, but the ventilation tunnel that they all connected to was disconnected from the ventilation shafts in the rest of the prison. They didn't blow out or suck in air at the same areas as the rest of the prison ventilation.

That was a reassurance to Peter. At least he didn't have to worry of prisoners escaping through the ventilation, climbing up to the separate upper level and finding their way to the cell and break in and beat him up.

Peter told the warden as much and the warden got a good laugh from what he said and then reassured him further by informing that the possibilities for all that were minimal to next to impossible.

Then Peter caught onto something else that the warden had said and asked what he meant about "The Observation Desk".

To answer that, The Warden directed him to the secondary desk standing a bit away from the TV desk.

It was a desk similar the desk were is computer was waiting for him to open it.

But instead of a secondary computer resting on the table was a single keyboard in front of dozens upon dozens of screens. Each and every one of them no smaller than a touchpad. And each one of them seemingly showing live footage from a hidden observation camera in each and every cell that wasn't his in the prison.

When he asked the warden about it, he confirmed it. The footage was live. And only he could see it.

The warden then informed him of the two tasks he was going to be performing during his stay at the prison.

His first task was before him.

It was an easy task. Just watch the various inmates and if he saw them doing something suspicious (but only saw, since the live footage featured no sound) like plotting or about to try to perform a breakout. All that he would have to do to stop it would be to punch in the numbers corresponding to the cell, camera and the letters corresponding to the cell block and hit "Enter". The staff would take care of the rest for him from there.

The second task was basically the same as the task he performed when he was here the last time. As Spiderman.

But The Warden didn't know that he had been locked up in the prison before. Or that he was Spiderman for that matter. And he had to keep it that way.

The Warden explained that he was going to try and escape through the ventilation shafts and see how far along he could get.

They were specifically designed to be wide enough to allow them to funnel more air to and from the cell, so they were wide enough to crawl through. Which was why the prison had gone the extra mile and done a lot of security upgrades to the ventilation system that heated and cooled down Peter's luxury cell.

He was going to see how far he was able to make it through it (without his powers) to see whether or not the cell truly was inescapable.

He was free to start trying whenever he wanted. Including now if he wanted to.

All he needed to do to do so was to ask for a screwdriver to undo the screws to one of the two floor leveled ventilation grates.

- Maybe later. Peter answered the warden honestly, not feeling up to crawl through the kind of space he thought he was going to be locked up in for four whole months just yet.

Then he noticed what laid beyond the observation desk and the shower area.

The end of the cell was one massive outward square shaped glass alcove made out of several windows held in place by a square-shaped web.

The beams that held the web together were just as thick as the steel beams that lined the door and the opening hatch in the cell door.

Peter walked past the exercise equipment that was on the marble floor between the shower, observation desk and where the glass alcove began.

There was a bench press, an arm press, wrist and leg weights, hand weights and an arm weight and lastly, a treadmill.

Looking down through the glass panels, Peter could see the Prison Courtyard expand beneath his feet, with the city beyond the high wall and wire fences of the prison.

It was quite a view.

Peter made an appreciative whistle at the rather astounding view that the cell had as the warden explained that the window of the cell was, as he suspected, one way. He could see the city and the courtyard (as well as the prisoners currently outside), but they didn't see him. The prisoners thought or had been told that the glass construct was a new watchtower station. It's position over the courtyard only enhanced that belief.

But it wasn't.

It was a first-class luxury cell.

The glass was also of the same kind as the wall opposite it. The same wall that was the door was.

But in this case, one-third of resistant glass was one way, the second third was bulletproof and the last third was made out a glass that was tied to another slider, this one above the upward dial, on the Cell Remote.

The slider allowed Peter to control how much light the outward windows let into the cell. Meaning that Peter could have as little or much light in the cell as he wanted.

And considering that he held the remote to the electronic lights in his hand, he had no "Lights Out". And since he already was in an isolation cell, he had no curfew either.

But the warden curbed his enthusiasm by telling him that he was speaking through his Cell Remote's brother. It didn't have any control of the temperatures in the room, but it had a "Reset" button on it. As well as a button that allowed him to control the power and the lights in the cell.

He was going to go to sleep when the other prisoners did.

But beyond that, he was allowed to sleep in as long as he wanted.

With all his questions answered for at the moment, Peter forced himself to pull his head away from the city he had promised himself to protect.

Once he had done so, he made it a bit easier for himself by raising the opaqueness of the windows to hide the city from his view if he was to turn around again.

Not that he didn't.

Instead, he walked up to the desk next to the floor leveled ventilation shaft that was closest to the inward wall.

Once he was in front of his computer, Peter called the warden again while he booted up his computer.

He did not need to worry about his laundry.

His clothes would be washed in the prison laundry. The warden informed him that of course there were more uniforms his size that he could wear while it was cleaned. The underwear he used would get sent back to his aunt for cleaning and Aunt May had agreed to send him more underwear for him to wear during his stay.

His computer snapped to life by the end of The Warden's explanation that had left Peter both red-faced and smiling fondly at his aunt's love and care for him.

Then he asked what the password for the cell's own private Wifi. Now that caught him by surprise. The warden had told him what wifi to log onto and when he asked for the password, he answered simply.

Apparently, it was his name and his Prisoner Identification Number. Two things he wasn't going to forget during his stay here: PeterParker19620815.

With the Wifi name being: NY Rikers Island Penitentiary.

Once he was logged in, he sent a mail to James to tell him that he was all set up for work.

And before James had a chance to respond to him, Peter opened a new document and started working on his main task here.

Documenting everything about his stay here.

"My name is Peter Parker. I am 19 years old, a student at Midtown High School. I work at The Daily Bugle as a writer and photographer.
The first thing that happened to me when I came to work at the Bugle today was that I was arrested..................

Less then 2 hours later, lunch arrived and Peter was in for a surprise.

To Be Continued.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Finished.

That's the end of the beginning of this story.

This is Part 1 of 15.

This takes place a few months after the end of Season 2.

There might not have been any weight gain in this one, not even a single mention of it in this part.

But don't worry, it's coming.

This story will live start to live up to its name as soon as part 2.

The picture was done by the ever wonderful and consistently amazing artist as a Patreon reward for me.

Update 2018/04/08: Changed some sentences. Added some, removed some and rewrote others. Also finally added the link to Part 2.

Update: 2018/04/10: Corrected some more grammar and corrected the name of the prison. I thought it went unnamed. Apparently, it didn't and nobody told me what it was called. But now Rikers Island is in there instead of New York Maximum Penitentiary.

Part 2: robinlightwalker.deviantart.co…

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.

Description
The handcuffs around Peter's wrists rattled behind his back as he was led through the prison corridors. James Jonas Jameson was jabbering on beside him as the two security guards behind and in front of him kept marching down the dull colored corridors in a stony silence.

Peter shifted his arms a bit, feeling the cold silvery steel of the cuffs digging into his restrained wrists as they kept walking through the quiet prison.

This was not what he expected when he arrived to work today.

Getting his hands pulled behind his back by two waiting police officers and handcuffed a moment later before he could even voice his thoughts or objections when he arrived at James' office after that he had called him in had not been one of the things he thought would happen to him today. Or ever.
And even when James explained the what's and why's as Peter had struggled against his restraints and the officers vice-like hold on his arms, Peter wasn't okay with it.
He really wasn't given a choice in the matter, even if James said that he did. Especially since all of the basis of what was going on was being explained to him as he was lead through the office, his hands behind his back as he was walked towards a waiting prisoner escort truck waiting for him outside the building.

At least James joined him for the ride to the prison, explaining things further as Peter was secured in a waiting seat. As if he really was a high-security, flight risk criminal. He even had guards seated next to him for crying out loud.

And during that tension-filled journey in the confined space of the prison transport, James explained everything in less hurried details.

It wasn't as if Peter couldn't do anything else but listen to him. Or as if he had a choice in the matter.

First off: He wasn't under arrest. No matter how it looked like it right now. And when they arrived at the prison that they were going to, he wasn't going to be a prisoner there either. No matter how it looked.

It apparently had a lot to do with papers and contracts of various kinds.

Second: His school and his aunt were being informed of the situation as they spoke.

Thirdly: The reason behind all of this was that James, or rather, The Daily Bugle had been contacted by the warden of the prison that housed most, if not all of Spiderman's captured enemies to date. It was the same prison that previously had built a special cell that was meant to be inescapable that had its merits tested on Spiderman some time ago.

They had apparently built a brand new, highly specialized maximum security cell. With brand new rules for the personnel of the prison to work with regarding the inmate of the cell. And just like last time, they wanted documentation and see if the cell lived up to its expectations. But instead of wanting to go and find Spiderman again to test the cell for the duration of whatever time limit that they had set up for the test, they had contacted James and The Daily Bugle and asked if he was willing to let one of his writers test the cell for them.

James had apparently jumped at the chance and taken it without question and had chosen Peter out of all of the writing crew at the paper.

Peter would have liked to have known that before he was handcuffed, shoved into a prison transport and basically treated like a criminal and told his boss as much.

- Don't worry Peter. The choice to accept this honor is all yours. All you need to do to get out of those straps, cuffs and this car is to say "No". Just a simple "No" will do and you will go free and we will pretend like this never happened and I will go and choose someone else for the task. James explained evenly, his expression cold and none judging.

Peter went quiet for a moment, mulling over his choices.
If he said "No", then someone else would have to go through what he just went through. Just probably a bit more informed then he was.

But in the end, James had already made his choice for him already. And he kinda hated his boss for that.

- It's not like I really have a choice in the matter. You've already told my school and Aunt May of the situation. So I might as well go through with it anyway now that everything has already been prepared for me. Peter relented with a sigh of defeat as he shifted in his bonds and tried to get comfortable now that he was going through with it.
James grinned at him.
- Perfect Peter! I'd knew you would agree to it! You're never one not to go head first into unknown territory if that nose of yours has picked up the scent of a great scoop! James had shouted gleefully before he sat back down as the truck went over a few bumps in the road.

Then, as Peter thought over James' words and his own decision, James put his hand in his pocket and sent a message away.

It was only later that Peter would learn that neither his aunt or his school were informed of his absence and the situation around until AFTER he had agreed to the whole thing.
Peter wasn't happy when he found THAT out. He REALLY wanted to punch in his bosses' nose after that.

Eventually, the journey came to an end when the truck came to a stop and the doors were opened, drowning the dark space in light again. It nearly blinded Peter and James for a second.

Then James was ordered to vacate the car so that they could prepare Peter for the escort.

Once James was fully out of the vehicle, with both feet on the grounds, the officers on either side of Peter stood up and were joined by a pair of prison guards who walked up to Peter, undid all the straps keeping him locked to his seat before they grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

After that, the guards took the lead as the officers walked up behind Peter, with the officers grabbing hold of his wrists while the guards pulled him forward by the shoulders.
And when Peter's eyes had readjusted to the full force of the daylight sun he saw that yes, it was indeed the same prison that he had escaped as Spiderman half a year ago.

Rikers Island Penitentiary.

It was still the same dull colored, block-shaped building with wire fences on either side of the water canal that went around it.

Peter was guided through the prisoner entry point while James was guided through the visitor's gate.

The two didn't meet up again until Peter had been freed from his handcuffs and given a bundle of orange clothes that were meant to be roughly his size. He did give them his measurements after all.

Then he was shoved into an empty room and told to change into the clothes that he was given. And that he should fold up the clothes that he was wearing at the moment as neatly as he possibly could. They were meant to become a bundle the same size and of the same neatness as the bundle he had just been given.

The clothes he was going to wear for the foreseeable future were: A pair of brown, none descript slip-on shoes. A plain white sleeveless T-shirt. And, to really hammer the feeling home, a two-piece, zipper up orange prison uniform with a white, empty tag on the left side. Right over his heart.

Peter had barely started taking his clothes off after having stared at the five pieces of clothes he was going to be wearing for some time ahead when the door opened and James stepped inside.
- I was just told that they are still preparing the final parts of the cell that you are going to be staying in while here. So you can take your time. James said as he went through the door and closed it behind him before he walked up to Peter, ignoring his red face.
- Since you're here anyway, you might as well help me get everything the way they want it to be. Peter said with a grunt as he pulled off his sweater and threw it at James.
- Sure. Just don't get used to bossing me around Peter, or I will have you charged for insubordinate behavior and have you locked up here for real. And then it probably won't be as pleasant as your stay here presumably is going to be. James shot back as he pulled the sweater off his face and started straightening it out and folding it together.
Peter raised an eyebrow at James' statement, but he didn't elaborate.

Eventually, Peter got out of his regular clothes and into the prison outfit while James finished up folding his clothes into a neat, small, square-shaped bundle.
The uniform was a bit too big for him. It hung loosely over his rather slim, but muscular body in an overly baggy fashion.

James left the room with his bundled up clothes in hand, saying that he was going to hand it to the staff so that they could put his personal belongings in storage. But not before telling him to go through the door on the opposite side of the room now that he had his new clothes on. With the parting words that the people on the other side had been waiting for him.

On the other side of the door was where Peter got his prisoner profile mugshots taken. Front, back, left, right.
And also took his height and weight.
They really went all out with going through the whole "Prisoner Introduction" procedure.

And it was there that he was given his "Prisoner Identification Number".
It was: 1962-08-15.
For some reason, that number made something tingle in Peter's body when he first saw it.
But at the same time, he really didn't like being stripped down and identified with a number.

Peter really didn't care about anything else that the stood on the "Prisoner Information Sign" that he was made to hold while his mugshots were taken.

He was to busy being put off by the dehumanizing feeling of the whole procedure to care enough to look at what the sign said at the time.

In hindsight, he really should have.

Once the mugshots were done, the four security guards that had been waiting patiently at one side of the room walked up to him.
They had been eying him through the whole procedure and after a few short greetings and a few "Nothing personal" and "Just following procedure" from them, one of them asked him to put his hands back behind his back.

Peter let out a tired sigh as he did and shortly after felt his hands being handcuffed back together again.
Then his number tag was printed out and put in its place above his heart.

After that, they lined up around him and told him to follow them. Peter didn't say that he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

James was waiting for them on the other side of the exit door from the photo room and joined Peter as he was escorted through the prison towards his cell.

And that was how he ended up where he was. Being led through a prison as a prisoner in all but name. Treated as a high priority flight risk and threat. With his boss jabbering on beside him with pointless platitudes and reassurances.

Apparently, his aunt would be allowed to send his stuff to him and the school would send him the homework and assignments that he would be missing while he rotted behind bars.

Those small blessings were to little comfort for Peter, who now had nothing but those small things hanging over his head.

He really hoped that Daredevil, Deadpool, Black Cat and The Fantastic Four could fill up for him while he was gone from the streets.

Peter put an end to James monologue by asking the question he had been meaning to ask ever since he was informed of his upcoming task.

- Is all of this really necessary? Peter asked as they continued walking through the seemingly endless corridors filled with one identical cell after the other.

He wished he didn't ask.

- Yes! Of course, it is Peter. While you may not officially be a prisoner in this whole ordeal, you are still meant to be treated like a prisoner in the fancy new cell that the prison has built that you are here to test. So even if you haven't done anything wrong, for this experience to be as genuine as possible, you need to experience everything that you would experience if you really were the kind of prisoner that would be incarcerated within the cell. Now, remember Peter. You are going to be treated as a mixture of all the kinds of prisoners that new special cell is designed for. That being a squealer. Someone with enough to make their stay as luxurious as a vacation. And as a High Value and Powerful Political Prisoner. And per our agreement, you are also tasked to test the escapability of the high-security isolation cell to see just how inescapable and unpenetrable the cell really is over your task to document your treatment on a daily basis. Once you have been locked up in the cell, you are free to make yourself as at home as you can. You aren't going to see the other side of the bars for 4 months after all. Ha ha ha. Jameson happily answered him as he put a hand on his left shoulder and turned his head towards him. Never breaking stride as he spoke.
Peter sighed heavily in defeat. The time of turning back has long since passed by now.
- Fine. Peter said with an annoyed sigh.

But at least he knew what he was going to be doing now for the foreseeable future.

Even if 4 months was a while.

A long while at that.

Peter went back to being contemplatively silent and allowed Jameson to fill the silence left from their short dialogue, leading him to prattle on about his task and some pointless platitudes and reassurances as he thought of his decision once more.

When looking up to a 4-month absence from the rest of the world, maybe "No" would have been the better decision in the end.

James' hand on his shoulder was far from reassuring him right now.

Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor and Peter's eyes went wide at just the sight of the outside of the cell that they were heading towards.

It was HUGE!

And that was only from the front!

A square, opaque white glass walls made up the front of the cell and the square itself took up twice, if not four times as much room as the cells that they had passed on their way here.

Peter did some quick math in his head together with his observations as they came closer and closer to the cell. And the closer they came, the more he realized.

The cell was four times as big as a regular cell in the prison. It was wide enough to fit four regular sized cells in it alone. And by the looks of things. What with the roof being a lot higher up on this level than on the previous level. And with the square wall of opaque glass reaching the top of the ceiling while still retaining its square shape, it was as tall as four cells stacked on top of one another.

And given that the corridor that the cell occupied was approaching a lot faster then Peter was expecting, Peter would take a wager that the cell was four times as deep as a regular cell.

That was potentially a lot of space for him to occupy for the foreseeable future.

And from what he could see, there were no other cells near the cell. On either side of the cell.

In fact, looking back on what they had passed on their way, Peter couldn't recall passing a single cell on their way through the floor.

There was only one cell on this entire floor.

And it was the cell that he was going to be occupying for four whole months.

He would have the whole floor of the prison for himself.

All to himself in his confined lonesome.

Now that was a horrifying thought.

Peter shivered hard enough to nearly stop as he began to feel queasy. The chains of his handcuffs rattled as he tried to take a steadying breath.

- You okay there Peter? James asked beside him, his voice dropping the bravado for a second as he turned his head halfway towards him and gave him a surprisingly concerned look.
- Ye-yea-yeah......Peter said weakly, his body trembling as he lowered his head and kept his gaze on the dull grey metal floor instead of the rapidly approaching wall of opaque glass.
- There is still the option of saying "No" to all of this and backing away if you don't fell up to it anymore, kid. James said reassuringly as he turned towards Peter and leveled his eyes at him. Jame's tone was surprisingly soft and reassuring and his eyes showed some genuine concern and understanding.
Peter came to a stop, making the whole escort team stop as Peter shifted in his handcuffs as he averted his gaze from his boss' for a second or two.
- I am already here. Handcuffed, mugshot taken, suited up and all. And the cell is right there. It's too late for seconds thoughts now. Peter said with a resigned voice as he turned himself back towards the white wall that loomed before him.
- Look, kid. No one would blame you for wanting to back down from this. I can only imagine how hard it must be for someone being cut off from everyone that they care about and the rest of the world for 4 whole months. James said understandingly as he put a reassuring hand on Peter's back.
Peter let out a tired, exhausted and resigned breath before he seemed to steel himself for what he was going to.
- It's not like anyone else but Aunt May wants to see me right now. Peter said morosely in a melancholic voice with a somber look in his eyes. Peter said as he turned his head fully away from James and towards the cell in front of him and started walking again.

The moment that Peter started walking, so did everyone else.

- Hey, don't sell yourself, short kid. James said as he picked up the pace and caught back up to Peter before giving him a reassuring smack on the back that justled him enough to nearly make him falter in his steps again.
The chain of the handcuffs restraining Peter's hands rattled as he stumbled forward from the impact.
Yet even when James appeared beside him again, he didn't say anything.
- I'm sure there are more people then your aunt that are going to miss you while you're gone. James said as placatingly and as softly as he could manage.
- I'm not so sure of that. Peter said morosely as he kept his gaze locked on his home for the next four months onward.
- You do know that "Absence makes the heart grow fonder", right? James fired back, an argumentative growl curling in the back of his throat.
- Yes. Or the distance further. Peter said sullenly.

James closed his mouth with a click of his teeth before he crossed his arms and let out a sigh of resignation.

Maybe Peter would benefit from some time of introspection?

James shook his head as he kept walking beside Peter.

The guards parted ways and Peter saw the door that would seal his fate and keep him from the rest of the world for the next few months.

It was a single, simple rectangle cut through the left side of the opaque white glass, with the borders of the door being made from thick strips of metal.

The same treatment was given to the surprisingly large slide open window that was placed in the door at the hand height for a regular adult male.

It was a surprisingly large opening in the door for being the only thing that would open regularly in a door that was meant to be kept closed. The rectangular hole that it would leave behind seemed to be large enough to get a surprisingly large plate through the opening.

The doors were cut right out of the glass and the openings that they created were reinforced with worked in mechanism made from extra durable and thick metal.

Peter could tell from just a quick once-over glance of the only opening in the whole wall that the door was hardly going to budge, no matter what anyone did on either side of the door.

The cell was made to keep anyone uninvited out and the one inside from getting out. And that was what it looked like it did.

The six-man entourage walked out of the straight corridor that they had been walking through for a while now and exited into the empty corridor on the other side.

The warden of the prison was waiting beside the door. As was two more security guards placed on either side of the door.

James split off from the group and walked ahead of them to talk to the warden for a bit as Peter and the guards kept their pace as they walked out into the corridor and to the left. Towards the waiting door.

- You certainly took your time. The warden said gruffly as the guards walked past him, Peter walking silently between them.

Peter didn't even turn to look at him as the small group passed him. He just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. The faster he got locked up, the better. At least then he would have some time to think for himself and not have his decisions made for him again.

- Yeah, sorry about that pal. Peter got cold feet a few times. James said placatingly as he sauntered up to the stocky, white-bearded man.

- I don't blame the boy for having second thoughts about this. He looks far to young to even be remotely comfortable with being locked up here. Even if there are worse places to be locked up then this beauty. The warden explained while both he and James watched the four guards escort Peter to the door.

The moment that they did, James excused himself from the warden's side and walked over to Peter and the guards.

Peter was a mixture of numbness, exhaustion, and resignation as he looked at the plain, opaque white wall made from 10 layers of a thick bullet and force resistant glass, mixed with 20 layers of twice as thick and resistant plastic in between.

At least the guards that were guarding the door were kind enough to tell him that much.

Then the two guards ahead of him split up while the other guard put in a code in a code lock before going through a whole identification procedure before the door jutted into the opposite wall with a mechanical hiss of force.

The two guards in front of him closed the space in front of him again before the two walked in ahead of him.

Then the two guards behind him pushed him forward and Peter marched into the cell.

The two guards blocked his immediate view of the inside of the cell. But he didn't care much about that right now.

He cared more about the fact that he couldn't see ANYTHING of what he just walked past through the opaque glass wall.

As well as the distinctive feeling of one guard grabbing hold of his wrists while the other justled with his handcuffs before they came undone.

Peter blinked as his whole body shook as his hands were suddenly no longer restrained behind his back.

But he had barely had a chance to move his hands around and start rubbing his sore wrists before the two guards in front of him turned around and walked past him, through the door behind him. Prompting him to turn around as well.

Only to see the guards leaving the cell.

- Lunch is in two hours. Was the last guard's parting words to him before they exited the cell.

And James and the warden standing in the middle of the corridor, perfectly in view from the opening in the wall.

- Goodbye, Peter. See you in four months. James said with a booming voice as he waved Peter goodbye.

- Goodbye. Peter said lowly, his voice thick as all that he could see was the backs of the guards, a tiny fraction of the corridor, the gate guards elbows, one of which faced his way, James, and the warden.

Then the door slammed shut with an aggressive mechanical hiss.

And the moment that one side of the door met the other, there was a distinctive whirr and hiss of the door being vacuum sealed in place.

Perfect.

Now he was alone.

With only the silence that was filled by his breathing as his only company for the next sixteen weeks of his life.

Peter let out a sigh as he looked at the white door and wall, barely able to tell the two apart if it wasn't for the metal that lined the outer parts of the door.

Then, while still rubbing his sore wrists, he turned around and looked at the place where he was going to be staying for four months.

And his eyes went wide once more.

He really should have paid more attention to what James said.

Because just like getting arrested was the furthest thing he thought would happen to him today, the cell that he found himself in right now was the furthest thing from a cell that he had ever seen.

It was more of a luxury apartment than anything even remotely related to a prison cell.

While the walls and the ceiling were made from the same dull dark grey metal as the walls, floor, and ceiling on the other side of the opaque glass wall behind him, the floor of the cell was made out of black marble.

Simple, yet powerful lights shone softly down from the ceiling. Each light placed in a 4x4 pattern that spread their light across the cell equally. The light wasn't too harsh or bright, nor was it soft enough to barely make a difference in the cell. Peter was just thankful that the lights weren't blinding.

Stepping forward, while still rubbing his sore wrists, Peter looked across the cell.

Elegant and regal looking carpets covered the majority of the floor. The carpet took up 3 fourths of the cell floor. The only areas that it didn't cover was right near the entrance, where two rows of marble floor panels served as the entrance area to the cell. And the area at the back of the cell. Otherwise, the carpet went from one side of the room to the next.

Taking a step onto the soft carpet and pulling his eyes away from the fancy and intricate pattern on the carpet, Peter took a look at what made up the main area of the cell.

On the left, there was a desk next to a heavily bolted ventilation door. And on the desk, Peter could see his folded up computer waiting for him at the desk.
A large, wheeled chair that looked comfortable just to look at waited for him in front of the desk, right by the border of the floor carpet.

Beside the desk was a large open area of space before the built-in toilet jutted out of the wall together with a cleaning area.

It seemed as if the cell was a one-room apartment with how it had everything that one would need to manage in the same room without any walls.

The silver toilet had a fold-down cover and it was the only thing that didn't seem to be of the same high quality or class as everything else around it. And it, beyond the clothes that Peter was wearing at the moment, served as a reminder that even though he was locked up in a luxury apartment, he was still in a prison.

Above it was a motion sensor, probably for flushing and beside it was a built-in toilet paper roller, with the paper already there. But with no spare rolls in sight.

Right beside the toilet on the left was a silver sink and faucet. A soap dispenser was attached to the wall a bit above and to the right of the faucet. One of his hand towels from home hung on a dull silver hook left of the sink.

A bit away from the toilet was a blessing and a relief for Peter.

The room had its own private shower.

Thank Fuck for that.

And unlike the toilet, the shower looked like it belonged in the room.

Half circle shaped with a raised area, with 90-degree curved glass doors with golden handles, a back made out of dark brown, shiny wood and with a deep sea blue tiled floor. The back of the shower was flush with the wall of the cell, so when he closed the half circle cubicles, he would still be able to see the whole room. At least until he closed his eyes during the shower.

Three of his towels from his bathroom at home hung on a three-leveled warming towel rack between the toilet and the shower.

At the other end of the room, placed close to the end of the carpet on the right, perfectly slotted between the carpet and the metal wall was a big, red colored bed with a body made out dark brown mahogany. And resting on the perfectly made covers on the bed were several pairs of his underwear. Each and every one of them neatly folded up into square-shaped bundles. No doubt done by the prison personnel.

A bit further down on the right was another piece mahogany furniture. This one more like low-level desk than anything. It was placed flush against the wall and taking up most of the top of the desk was a large, wide screen, high definition, simulated 3d TV. First class.

Peter had to whistle at that.

And below the Tv, on the first level below the Tv where several gaming consoles. All of them deactivated, but all of them just waiting for activation.

Beneath the consols, on the level below it, was a whole slew of games for the various consoles. All of them, Peter noted had something either do with police work or crime, with games like GTA 4 & 5, to L.A Noir.

Perfectly aligned with the TV desk was a double floor mahogany table with both its center and lower level made out of clear glass. The wood of the table, just like the bed was intricately and regally sculpted to look as luxurious and welcoming as possible.

The wide sofa was the same story as the table, as its legs, the center of the armrests and the foundation of the back were made out of mahogany. The rest and the majority of the sofa at that were covered in plush, thick, red cushions that looked to be incredibly soft from where Peter was standing.

Peter noted that if he had a need to rush to the toilet, he only needed to walk around the left corner of the sofa to get to the toilet.

He had to quirk his lips at that thought. The one-room apartment design wasn't so bad for him if it meant that he could watch Tv from the toilet.

Then his attention was drawn to the two remotes that were lying on the table.

One of them was obviously for the Tv, whose red light was just waiting to turn green at the push of the "On" button on the remote.

The second one piqued his interest enough to pick it up and inspect it.

It was a black rectangular device that looked like a mixture of a remote and a walkie-talkie.

The lower part of the device housed a microphone, with the speaker placed at the top of the device. Two push in buttons were on either side of the speaker and Peter guessed that he would have to push them both in at the same time to speak.

Inbetween the speaker and the microphone was what looked like a thermostat, with two circular dials on either side. One with a red half circle arrow going up on the left and a blue half circle arrow going downward on the right.

Peter pushed in the two buttons and when he heard the microphone click, he raised it to his mouth and asked the question that he wanted to ask.
- Um...Hello?..Wh...Um.What is this? What am I holding right now? Peter asked the device.
And not a second after he had voiced his question, the speaker crackled.
- Hello to you too, Peter. The brusque voice of the warden crackled through the speaker to Peter's surprise.
- What you are currently holding in your hands right now is the Cell Remote. The Warden explained once the greetings were over.
- Cell Remote? Peter asked curiously as he inspected the Cell Remote further.
- Yes, Peter. With that remote in your hand, you can control every part of your cell. The temperature with the sliders above the call buttons. And the lights, with the slide between the thermostat and the microphone. But that is not all. If there is anything that you want, ANYTHING, a second lunch, a massage, a bath or something else that isn't a change in clothes, or you being released from your cell prematurely, just use the call feature and ask for it. The warden elaborated as Peter's eyes went wide in shock.
- What?! Anything?! Really!? Peter asked in surprised shock, his eyes wide as he sat down on the sofa.
The moment he did, he felt the softness of the high-quality cushions beneath his rear and a second later, he leaned his back against the back cushions and started to relax a whole lot more.
- Yes. Anything. Mostly. Within limitations, of course. The warden said as Peter let out a sigh as he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a moment to just enjoy the sofa that was softer than his own bed.

If the sofa was this good, then he wondered just how good the bed would be.

- So.....This is basically my room-service phone? Peter asked after a moment of thinking about the warden's words after having pushed himself back to the present.
- Yes. Basically. But don't overdo it, okay? The warden admitted after a moment of silence.
- Okay. Peter said as he heaved himself off the far too comfortable couch and continued inspecting his new home for the next few months.

A home that started looking more and more welcoming by the seconds he stayed within its walls.

Then he hit the buttons again and started asking a few questions that immediately came to mind.

And once he had asked his questions, the Warden quickly got to answer them.

He didn't need to worry about the plumbing in the toilet. The pipes attached to it went separately from the waste pipes in the rest of the prison. They took a completely different route and didn't even share the same cleaning facility. The water in the silver throne in his cell was actually cleaner then it was in its many twins on the lower levels. Peter didn't need to know that.

The ventilation system was a similar story.

There were four large ventilation ports spread throughout the room. Two in the ceilings and two in level with the floor. One beside his personal desk and one beneath the observation desk. The four ventilation tunnels were all connected to each other, but the ventilation tunnel that they all connected to was disconnected from the ventilation shafts in the rest of the prison. They didn't blow out or suck in air at the same areas as the rest of the prison ventilation.

That was a reassurance to Peter. At least he didn't have to worry of prisoners escaping through the ventilation, climbing up to the separate upper level and finding their way to the cell and break in and beat him up.

Peter told the warden as much and the warden got a good laugh from what he said and then reassured him further by informing that the possibilities for all that were minimal to next to impossible.

Then Peter caught onto something else that the warden had said and asked what he meant about "The Observation Desk".

To answer that, The Warden directed him to the secondary desk standing a bit away from the TV desk.

It was a desk similar the desk were is computer was waiting for him to open it.

But instead of a secondary computer resting on the table was a single keyboard in front of dozens upon dozens of screens. Each and every one of them no smaller than a touchpad. And each one of them seemingly showing live footage from a hidden observation camera in each and every cell that wasn't his in the prison.

When he asked the warden about it, he confirmed it. The footage was live. And only he could see it.

The warden then informed him of the two tasks he was going to be performing during his stay at the prison.

His first task was before him.

It was an easy task. Just watch the various inmates and if he saw them doing something suspicious (but only saw, since the live footage featured no sound) like plotting or about to try to perform a breakout. All that he would have to do to stop it would be to punch in the numbers corresponding to the cell, camera and the letters corresponding to the cell block and hit "Enter". The staff would take care of the rest for him from there.

The second task was basically the same as the task he performed when he was here the last time. As Spiderman.

But The Warden didn't know that he had been locked up in the prison before. Or that he was Spiderman for that matter. And he had to keep it that way.

The Warden explained that he was going to try and escape through the ventilation shafts and see how far along he could get.

They were specifically designed to be wide enough to allow them to funnel more air to and from the cell, so they were wide enough to crawl through. Which was why the prison had gone the extra mile and done a lot of security upgrades to the ventilation system that heated and cooled down Peter's luxury cell.

He was going to see how far he was able to make it through it (without his powers) to see whether or not the cell truly was inescapable.

He was free to start trying whenever he wanted. Including now if he wanted to.

All he needed to do to do so was to ask for a screwdriver to undo the screws to one of the two floor leveled ventilation grates.

- Maybe later. Peter answered the warden honestly, not feeling up to crawl through the kind of space he thought he was going to be locked up in for four whole months just yet.

Then he noticed what laid beyond the observation desk and the shower area.

The end of the cell was one massive outward square shaped glass alcove made out of several windows held in place by a square-shaped web.

The beams that held the web together were just as thick as the steel beams that lined the door and the opening hatch in the cell door.

Peter walked past the exercise equipment that was on the marble floor between the shower, observation desk and where the glass alcove began.

There was a bench press, an arm press, wrist and leg weights, hand weights and an arm weight and lastly, a treadmill.

Looking down through the glass panels, Peter could see the Prison Courtyard expand beneath his feet, with the city beyond the high wall and wire fences of the prison.

It was quite a view.

Peter made an appreciative whistle at the rather astounding view that the cell had as the warden explained that the window of the cell was, as he suspected, one way. He could see the city and the courtyard (as well as the prisoners currently outside), but they didn't see him. The prisoners thought or had been told that the glass construct was a new watchtower station. It's position over the courtyard only enhanced that belief.

But it wasn't.

It was a first-class luxury cell.

The glass was also of the same kind as the wall opposite it. The same wall that was the door was.

But in this case, one-third of resistant glass was one way, the second third was bulletproof and the last third was made out a glass that was tied to another slider, this one above the upward dial, on the Cell Remote.

The slider allowed Peter to control how much light the outward windows let into the cell. Meaning that Peter could have as little or much light in the cell as he wanted.

And considering that he held the remote to the electronic lights in his hand, he had no "Lights Out". And since he already was in an isolation cell, he had no curfew either.

But the warden curbed his enthusiasm by telling him that he was speaking through his Cell Remote's brother. It didn't have any control of the temperatures in the room, but it had a "Reset" button on it. As well as a button that allowed him to control the power and the lights in the cell.

He was going to go to sleep when the other prisoners did.

But beyond that, he was allowed to sleep in as long as he wanted.

With all his questions answered for at the moment, Peter forced himself to pull his head away from the city he had promised himself to protect.

Once he had done so, he made it a bit easier for himself by raising the opaqueness of the windows to hide the city from his view if he was to turn around again.

Not that he didn't.

Instead, he walked up to the desk next to the floor leveled ventilation shaft that was closest to the inward wall.

Once he was in front of his computer, Peter called the warden again while he booted up his computer.

He did not need to worry about his laundry.

His clothes would be washed in the prison laundry. The warden informed him that of course there were more uniforms his size that he could wear while it was cleaned. The underwear he used would get sent back to his aunt for cleaning and Aunt May had agreed to send him more underwear for him to wear during his stay.

His computer snapped to life by the end of The Warden's explanation that had left Peter both red-faced and smiling fondly at his aunt's love and care for him.

Then he asked what the password for the cell's own private Wifi. Now that caught him by surprise. The warden had told him what wifi to log onto and when he asked for the password, he answered simply.

Apparently, it was his name and his Prisoner Identification Number. Two things he wasn't going to forget during his stay here: PeterParker19620815.

With the Wifi name being: NY Rikers Island Penitentiary.

Once he was logged in, he sent a mail to James to tell him that he was all set up for work.

And before James had a chance to respond to him, Peter opened a new document and started working on his main task here.

Documenting everything about his stay here.

"My name is Peter Parker. I am 19 years old, a student at Midtown High School. I work at The Daily Bugle as a writer and photographer.
The first thing that happened to me when I came to work at the Bugle today was that I was arrested..................

Less then 2 hours later, lunch arrived and Peter was in for a surprise.

To Be Continued.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Finished.

That's the end of the beginning of this story.

This is Part 1 of 15.

This takes place a few months after the end of Season 2.

There might not have been any weight gain in this one, not even a single mention of it in this part.

But don't worry, it's coming.

This story will live start to live up to its name as soon as part 2.

The picture was done by the ever wonderful and consistently amazing artist as a Patreon reward for me.

Update 2018/04/08: Changed some sentences. Added some, removed some and rewrote others. Also finally added the link to Part 2.

Update: 2018/04/10: Corrected some more grammar and corrected the name of the prison. I thought it went unnamed. Apparently, it didn't and nobody told me what it was called. But now Rikers Island is in there instead of New York Maximum Penitentiary.

Part 2: robinlightwalker.deviantart.co…

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.