"You didn't see the way Peter's classmates looked at him. They were afraid, disgusted, and hateful, as if Peter had done something terrible, like he was a monster. But Peter was clearly the victim!"

"I hate this feeling!"

Gwen rubbed her aching forehead, feeling dejected. "I don't want Peter to be treated like this, but I feel powerless to change anything."

"You and Peter..."

Gwen, knowing what her father was about to ask, quickly responded before he could finish, "He's my friend."

"My good friend," she added quickly.

"Don't worry," George reassured his daughter, "we'll find the real culprit and clear your friend's name. Just give your father some time."

Meanwhile, Uncle Ben drove Aunt May and Peter home in their old, worn-out Toyota.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't realize you were going through all that at school," Aunt May said, her voice thick with emotion.

Peter leaned over to comfort her. "It's okay, Aunt May. It's over. I don't care about it."

"I love you, Peter. I really do," Aunt May said, holding his hands, her eyes reddened with guilt. "I've always worried I wasn't doing enough, that I let you suffer. If I had known what was happening at school, I would've gladly taken the pain for you."

"May, Peter's a strong boy," Uncle Ben chimed in from the driver's seat. "He probably didn't tell us because he didn't want us to worry. Growing up can be messy, but I believe Peter will become a fine young man."

Uncle Ben was practical, though it pained him to see his nephew go through so much. There wasn't much he could do to help; in the end, Peter had to face these struggles himself.

Peter, who felt comforted by their words, remained calm. The memories of bullying belonged to his past self, and he didn't feel strongly about them anymore.

The law of the jungle applies everywhere, Peter thought to himself. Fairness and justice exist only in comforting lies.

He turned his attention to the scenery speeding past the car window, his mind on more pressing matters. The way Josh's body was wrapped in a spider silk cocoon… it was unlike anything he had seen before. Was the killer someone from school? Maybe a creature like Spider-Man? Or some genetically altered being like himself?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

His brow furrowed in thought.

The next day, Peter visited the NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, walking down the hallway towards the Oncology Clinic. He needed Dr. Antonia Aguilar to closely monitor the alien embryo growing inside him.

School had been cancelled due to Josh's unexpected death, likely in an effort to quell the wild rumors circulating about his bizarre demise.

There were even whispers that Peter was responsible, with some mysterious method. Many had seen Peter throw Josh into a locker that day with inhuman strength. It wasn't hard to believe he could've killed him, despite police and school statements to the contrary.

And so, Peter had already earned the nickname "Spider-Man," though he remained unaware of this latest gossip.

After arriving at Dr. Lane office, Peter underwent a quick examination. The alien embryo hadn't changed much.

"You could try consuming low-calorie foods," Dr. Lane suggested. "This might prevent the tumors from growing too quickly. But if your body goes too long without energy, it could cause other harm."

Peter nodded, though he wasn't too concerned. He could feel his body getting stronger, more agile, more powerful. If he faced that "Werewolf Boy" again now, it would be an easier fight.

The alien DNA was clearly having a growing influence on him. But where would these changes lead? Would it turn him into something else entirely? Would an alien hatch from inside him?

Dr. Lane offered, "Are you sure you don't want to do a blood test? It could help us understand the nature of the tumor."

Peter shook his head. His blood was corrosive, like an alien's. It would likely destroy any needle used to draw it.

After leaving Doctor office, Peter was about to head out of the hospital when an elderly woman in a wheelchair called out to him.

"Son, could you take me to my ward?" she asked with a smile.

Peter glanced around, confirming she was talking to him. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry. You can ask someone else."

He wasn't one to go out of his way to help others.

"Really? But I can tell you're confused. Maybe I can offer some advice," the woman said with the same smile.

Peter ignored her, but then she added something that made him stop.

"For instance, I know you're going to buy a newspaper, but you don't have any change in your wallet."

Peter froze, turning to stare at her. He had indeed been planning to make a purchase. He pulled out his wallet and found only large bills—no change.

Still skeptical, he replied, "I was going to buy something, but I hadn't decided exactly what. Not even I knew until a moment ago."

"But fate has already chosen for you, hasn't it?" the woman said calmly.

After a moment of thought, Peter decided to push the woman's wheelchair. He wanted to see what she was up to.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "My ward is 965."

Elsewhere, Dr. Christine realized her patient was missing. Seeing the empty wheelchair, she knew the patient must have gone wandering. She was about to confront the nurse when she spotted the patient being wheeled back into the room.

The person pushing the chair caught her by surprise.

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