The Hero of vale (RWBY self insert)

[azukugames]

Huh? Where… am I?"

The words slipped from my mouth as I stood in a dimly lit room, cloaked in silence. The walls were draped in webs thick, ancient, and untouched. Corners held nests of still, watching spiders, and the floor beneath me was lined with a narrow, silken path.

Curiosity tugged at me. I followed the path, each step echoing in the silence, the spiders on either side turning as if to observe me not with hostility, but with recognition. As I approached the end of the path, my eyes widened.


Suspended in the centre of a massive web was a figure. His form was strange
human and not. The lower half of his body was arachnid, vast and powerful, with long legs that merged into the web itself. The upper half was cloaked and humanoid, yet featureless

beneath a porcelain-like mask. His presence was overwhelming
despite the eerie calm, I couldn't help but feel that I'd seen this figure before.
"…He kind of looks like the Master Weaver…"
"You would be correct in your thoughts."
I froze. The figure spoke — not with a voice, but with a presence that resonated directly in my mind.
"I am the guardian of the Great Web of Life and Destiny. And you, young one, have been summoned here at my request."
Confused, I took a step back. "But… why me? I'm just some average guy."

My voice trembled. I wasn't anyone special.. Just someone who tried to get through life doing the right thing when he could.
"Ah, but that is precisely why I chose you."
The Weaver's many eyes seemed to glimmer in the darkness.
"I have watched you since your first years of high school. I saw the friendships you nurtured, the way you lifted others up even when you yourself were brought down. Many saw you as a brother not by blood, but by heart. I witnessed your pain."
I didn't know what to say.
"The world of Remnant is dying, young one. A world filled with darkness, distrust, and despair. The Brother Gods came to me yes, the very ones from the stories you watched long ago. RWBY, was it not? That animated show you loved as a child."
My eyes widened. "Wait RWBY? Seriously?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "I mean, I used to watch it. Got as far as the Fall of Beacon. After that I kind of fell off it, but I'm aware of some things that happen."
"And that is precisely why you will succeed."
Then I saw it a purple-hued spider descend and land on my arm.
"You have the heart of a Spider-Man. And now, you shall become one."
Before I could react, the spider sank its fangs into my arm.
"Agh!"
I swatted it away, clutching my arm as warmth surged through me. I felt it a change, a pull.
"It has chosen you. Your soul had already made its choice the moment you admired that symbol. the moment you yearned to be someone who could help others without expecting anything in return."

He extended a clawed hand, opening a portal a swirling gate of glowing threads.
"I will send you to Remnant


one year before the events of canon begin. You will have time to train, to learn, to grow. Your mind has been enhanced to match what your hero possessed: keen intellect, rapid learning, and sharp instincts. Do not waste this opportunity, Andrew."
I took a deep breath.
"…Thank you. I won't let you down."
With a nod, I stepped through the portal.


The first thing I noticed was a light breeze and the distant sounds of a city. I stumbled slightly, then caught myself. I looked down at my hands
younger. Fifteen, maybe sixteen at most.
"Okay… gonna freak out about that later."
I stood at the edge of a street in Vale, the city bustling in the distance. At my feet was a box with a note that read:
"You're all set. ID is taken care of. Apartment's paid for. Good luck, kid."
MW

Inside was a key and a small map. I followed it to a modest apartment complex. Not fancy, but cozy. Clean. Mine.
And waiting for me inside, on the bed, was a briefcase.
Heart pounding, I opened it and there it was.
A suit. Red and blue, sleek, with a large spider

emblem stretched across the chest. The design was immediately familiar the

Spectacular Spider-Man suit. Beneath it, a pair of web-shooters gleamed, fully functional, with built-in refill technology. And beside them, an entire wardrobe of suits

Peter's designs, and a few others besides.
"All I have to do is repair them when needed…"

I whispered, relief washing over me.
I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

 

[azukugames]

1st month in

The bustling streets of Vale were suddenly disturbed by the screeching tires of a stolen car barrelling down the main road, weaving dangerously through traffic.
Thwip!

A red and blue blur swung past streetlights and over rooftops, zeroing in on the rogue vehicle.
Alright, Spidey car chase in broad daylight. Thank god I was at least given Peter's IQ along with his memories. It really does make things easier. It's been a slow process, but I've got his first two years of hero work rattling around in my brain right now.
A web shot forward, latching onto the rear bumper. Spider-Man flipped mid-air and landed gracefully on the car's roof. He tapped twice.
"Knock knock!"

Inside, the getaway driver snapped his head up to see a masked face with large white lenses staring down at him through the windshield.
"Who the hell is this freak?!"
The man panicked and reached for his gun

but Spidey was faster. The weapon was ripped clean from his hand by a webline.
"Didn't your mama ever teach you it's rude to point guns at people?"
Another webline shot out, yanking the driver through the window. Spider-Man caught him mid-air and stuck him firmly to a nearby lamppost.

"Hope you enjoy your sticky situation."
With the driver dealt with, the car was still rolling fast. Spider-Man webbed the rear bumper, dug his feet into the pavement, and strained with everything he had. The tires squealed. Asphalt cracked

beneath his heels until the car jerked to a dead stop.
"And that, kids, is why you always wear your seatbelt."

He dusted himself off and launched back into the air.


The afternoon crowd parted slightly as an elderly woman stood frozen on the pavement, her shopping bags split open at her feet, cans of food rolling in every direction. She pressed a hand to her lower back and let out a slow, defeated sigh.
Thwip.
Spider-Man dropped from a fire escape, already scooping tins off the ground before she'd even registered his presence.
"Allow me."
The woman blinked at him, then at the red and blue figure crouching at her feet, carefully gathering her groceries.
"Oh my you're that Spider boy the papers and news channels keep going on about!"
"Spider-Man," he corrected gently, passing her a neatly gathered bag. "But yeah, that's me."
She patted his masked cheek with a wrinkled hand. "Such a polite young man."

He smiled beneath the mask. "You need a hand getting home?"

She did. He walked with her the entire two blocks, carrying both bags, and only swung off once he was certain she was safely through her front door.


A small boy stood at the base of a tall oak tree, bottom lip trembling.
"Mittens! Mittens, come down!"
High in the branches, a very unimpressed tabby cat stared back at him with total indifference.
Thwip.

Spider-Man landed on the branch beside her, slow and easy, one hand raised.
"Hey there, Mittens. Rough day?"
The cat blinked at him. Then, as though deciding he was acceptable, she stepped calmly onto his forearm.

He descended the tree and crouched in front of the boy, depositing the cat into his arms.
The kid stared at him with wide, shining eyes. "Are you really Spider-Man?"
"Last time I checked."
"You're so cool."

Spider-Man pointed finger-guns at him. "So are you, kid. Keep being awesome." He fired off a web and vanished over the rooftops, leaving the boy staring open-mouthed at the sky.

A column of black smoke billowed from an apartment complex. Fire trucks surrounded the building. One woman was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching her chest.
"My baby's still inside!"

The firemen were doing everything they could, but the flames were too intense to breach.
Thwip!

A webline shot across the smoke-choked air and a red and blue blur swung through a shattered window without hesitation.
Moments later, Spider-Man emerged from the flames coughing hard, suit scorched at the shoulders carrying a small baby swaddled carefully in his arms. He landed gently on the pavement and held the child out to its mother.
"Here you go. They're safe."
Before she could find her words, he was gone



Two men were arguing loudly in front of a fruit stall. One of them — a broad-shouldered dock worker — had grabbed a young Bull Faunus boy by the collar, sending his basket of groceries scattering across the cobblestones.
"Watch where you're going, freak!"
Thwip.
The man's hand was webbed to his own chest before he could do anything else with it.
Spider-Man dropped down between them, arms crossed.
"Easy. Let's dial it back."
"Stay out of this, Spider freak — this Faunus kid nearly knocked me flat!"
"He bumped into you. Could've happened to anyone." Spider-Man tilted his head. "Now, you're going to help him pick up his groceries, and then you're both going to go home. Sound good?"
The dock worker stared at the webbing on his chest, then at the lenses staring calmly back at him. He deflated.
Spider-Man knelt beside the boy, gathering spilled apples and tucking them back into the basket.

The boy no older than twelve, small horns just visible through his hair watched him quietly.
"Thank you," he said at last.

"Don't mention it." Spider-Man handed him the basket. "You alright?"

The boy nodded, a small smile breaking through.
"Good." Spider-Man stood, gave the dock worker one last pointed look, and swung off into the evening sky.



The laughter of two men echoed off the brick walls. It wasn't a friendly sound.
A young fox Faunus boy — two tails, not one, both twitching with barely-contained fear — was backed against a dead end, arms wrapped tight around himself. His eyes darted between the two figures blocking his escape. They carried stun batons, and they were enjoying themselves far too much.
"Look at those tails." The first thug sneered, circling slowly. "Two of 'em. Rare, that is."
"Rare means valuable." The second one grinned, something calculating behind his eyes. "I know people who'd pay serious Lien for a Faunus like this. Keep him quiet, clean him up — nobody's gonna miss one stray off the street. Could set us up for months."
The first thug's grin widened as the idea took hold. "Not a bad thought. Kid looks smart too. Bet he'd fetch even more."
The boy pressed harder against the wall, one tail curling instinctively inward.
"But first—" The first thug raised his baton. "You Faunus freaks need to learn you don't belong on our streets."
Thwip. Thwip.
Both batons were ripped from their hands in the same instant. A shadow dropped silently from above and landed between the boy and the two men without a sound.
Spider-Man tilted his head.
"Y'know, it's genuinely not very smart to monologue in an alleyway. The acoustics are terrible and the audience tends to show up uninvited."
The thugs staggered back.
"It's him — it's The Spider!"
"The Spider-Man," he said pleasantly, pointing at himself. "Please use the full name when you scream. I worked hard on the branding."
A couple of precise, efficient strikes later, both men were unconscious and webbed firmly to the nearest waste bin.
He turned.
The boy was still pressed against the wall, shaking. His two fox tails were tucked tight, his ears flat. He looked like he was waiting to find out whether the new arrival was an improvement or just a different kind of problem.
Spider-Man dropped to one knee, bringing himself level, and kept his hands visible.
"Hey. You're safe. They can't touch you now." His voice was quiet and steady. "I know that was frightening. Just breathe for me. Can you do that?"
A long pause. Then a small, shaky nod.
"Good. Focus on my voice. What do you hear? What can you smell?"
The boy swallowed. "I can smell… cigarettes. Smoke." He blinked slowly. "I hear your voice. Cars. Someone's music from up there—" He gestured vaguely upward.
"Good. You're doing great." Spider-Man didn't rush him.
After a moment, the boy looked up properly — taking in the mask, the emblem, the white lenses. One of his tails gave a small, cautious flick.
"My name's Miles," he said quietly. "Miles Per Hour."
"That's a great name." Spider-Man meant it.
He stood and offered a hand. Miles took it, and Spider-Man helped him to his feet. As he did, he noticed what the boy had been clutching throughout — a small handheld device, partially disassembled, components carefully laid out in a folded cloth tucked into his jacket pocket. The kid had been working on something, right there in the alley, before the thugs had found him.
Smart. Real smart.
"You live far from here?"
Miles shook his head. "Ten minutes."
"Then I'll walk with you."
Miles blinked. "You don't have to
"I know." Spider-Man nodded toward the alley exit. "Come on."


They walked in comfortable silence for most of it — Spider-Man on the ground for once, hands in his pockets, moving at an easy pace beside the boy. No swinging, no theatrics. Just two figures making their way through quiet streets as the city settled into night.
Miles noticed. He said nothing, but one of his tails gave a small, decisive flick.
When they reached his street — a narrow residential road, warm lights in the windows, the distant sound of a television somewhere inside one of the houses — Miles stopped at the corner and turned.
"This is me."
"Good." Spider-Man looked down the street, then back at the boy. "You've got a good name, Miles Per Hour. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise." He paused, nodding toward the device tucked in the boy's pocket. "And from what I can tell from that gadget you were working on — you're pretty sharp. Whatever that is, it looked like serious work."
Miles glanced down at his pocket, then back up. Something shifted in his expression — less guarded than before.
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you think I could make a good Huntsman one day? Maybe… be like you?"
Spider-Man was quiet for a beat, considering it properly.

"Honestly? I've never been to a Huntsman Academy. Never fought a Grimm. That's something I'd genuinely need to learn myself." He tilted his head. "So I'm probably not the best person to measure yourself against on that front."

Miles's ears dipped slightly.
"But here's what I can tell you," Spider-Man continued. "Don't let anyone drag your dreams down. If you want to be a Huntsman, work hard — in school, in training, all of it. Huntsmen and Huntresses protect people. They fight Grimm. They keep places like this street safe." He gestured at the warm lights, the quiet houses. "As for me I stop the odd robbery, pull kids out of burning buildings. I'm not sure I fit the Huntsman description exactly."
He looked at Miles directly.

"But if there's one thing you take away from tonight, Miles remember this." He let the words land carefully. "With great power, there must also come great responsibility. Whatever you become, whatever you're capable of that's what it comes down to. Every time."
Miles held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded

not the small, shaky nod from the alley, but something steadier. Something decided.
He turned and headed down the street toward the warm lights of home.
Spider-Man watched until the door closed behind him. Then he fired a webline into the dark sky and was gone.


Beacon Academy — Ozpin's Office]
Professor Glynda Goodwitch tapped her scroll against her palm, brows furrowed.
"I feel it's worth raising what exactly are we going to do about this masked vigilante operating throughout Vale?"
Ozpin sipped his coffee, watching the last of the sunset fade beyond the window.
"From what we've observed, morale in the city has improved noticeably. Grimm activity near the borders is down. Citizens are reporting a greater sense of safety." He turned from the window, expression thoughtful. "For now, we leave him be. Observe. He may yet become an ally."
Glynda's expression remained cautious. "General Ironwood is considerably less comfortable with that position. If we intend to reach out, he may become a complication."
She turned her scroll toward him. A headline filled the screen:
MASKED MENACE RUNS RAMPANT IN VALE
A THREAT TO ORDER AND SECURITY?
Jonah Ironwood, Vale Illustrated Tribune
Ozpin regarded it for a moment. "Jonah Ironwood. Always did have a flair for the dramatic."
"The sentiment appears to be spreading," Glynda said. "

"Then our Spider-Man had best keep doing what he's doing. Public goodwill has a way of outlasting editorial opinion."
He turned back to the window.
"He's making quite the impact already."