"DRAWING from what we learned yesterday, you can illustrate the quantum—"
Three cups of coffee and two Five-Hour Energy shots—that's what it was taking to keep me upright in class. Every muscle in my body ached, the residual pain from my battle with the Lizard still clawing at my insides. It was hard enough to focus on Mr. Octavius' lecture, let alone stay awake. My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and the lecture seemed to drift in and out of focus.
Sleep had been elusive ever since the fight. My wounds, hastily patched up on my own, still throbbed. I couldn't risk going to a hospital—that was an easy way to get found out. But at this rate, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep taking these hits without someone noticing something off. Sure, my body healed faster than normal, a lot faster, but the bruises turned to scars at their own pace, and my cracked ribs? Still a problem.
"Hey, Pete," came a voice from beside me. "Pete."
I glanced over at Harry, who was grinning ear to ear.
"Yeah?" I muttered, trying to stay focused enough to avoid catching Professor Octavius' attention.
"What's going on with you lately, man? You've been acting super weird the past few days. Is it about your old internship? That one guy, uh... what was his name?" Harry asked, his expression shifting to mild concern.
"Doctor Connors," I replied quietly. The mention of his name brought back flashes of the chaos. The authorities had him locked up in a reinforced adamantium cage, courtesy of Oscorp. I had spent every spare moment researching ways to reverse what had happened to him. But so far? Nothing.
"Yeah, Connors. Is that what's eating at you?" Harry pressed.
I shook my head, fighting to keep my exhaustion out of my voice. "No. I'm just... tired."
Before Harry could say more, the bell rang. I quickly shoved my things into my bag, ready to escape the classroom. But as I stood, a familiar voice came from my left.
"That looks nasty."
It was Felicia. Her eyes flicked to the swollen black eye I'd earned last night when my arm gave out mid-swing. I face-planted on the concrete, pain exploding through me. "Oh, this?" I tried to shrug it off with a smile that probably looked as pathetic as it felt. "Yeah, well, got in a few good shots of my own."
Felicia's eyes narrowed in a way that told me she wasn't buying it, but before she could say anything, Harry slid an arm around her shoulders. "Listen, Pete," he said, puffing out his chest a bit, "if you need me to handle those jerks, just say the word. Flash wouldn't know what hit him." He flexed his arms for show, and Felicia rolled her eyes.
"It's fine," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. We started walking out together, heading for lunch, but before I could finish my sentence, my back slammed hard into the lockers. The sharp clang echoed through the hall, and when I blinked, Flash Thompson was inches from my face, his breath hot and sour.
"Flash," I muttered.
"Parker," he grinned, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Harry tried to step in, but Flash's goons caught him, shoving him against the lockers too. "Not so fast, Osborn. You're next. But first—" Flash's grin widened as he eyed me. "Parker's gonna tell me what I'm having for lunch."
I bit down on the ache in my ribs, forcing a smirk. "Asparagus?" I asked, my voice tight with pain.
The grin slid off his face, replaced by something darker. His fist clenched, ready to fly at me. But before he could land it, Felicia stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Let him go, Flash." She smiled sweetly, but there was an edge to her tone. "Really? Lunch money? Aren't you a little too old to be playing schoolyard bully? Kinda embarrassing, don't you think?"
Flash's hand lowered, his bravado shrinking under the weight of her words. "Hey, not my fault Parker's too weak to stand up for himself." He leaned in closer, brushing invisible dust off my shoulders. "He just makes it so easy."
Felicia crossed her arms, her eyes locked on mine in that unsettling, almost predatory way of hers. "Yeah, he does seem to attract trouble, doesn't he?" Her eyebrow arched, and I couldn't help but think of that night when she brought me to her place. She hadn't mentioned it since, but it hung between us, unspoken.
Flash, not getting the hint, shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at her. "Hey, when you get bored of Osborn over there, you know where to find me. I can show you a better time." He took a step forward, but Felicia, with a flick of her leg, tripped him flat on his face.
"Oops," she said with a grin as Flash sputtered on the floor. "Would you believe me if I told you that was an accident?"
Flash growled, blood leaking from his nose, but before he could get up, Felicia planted her foot on his chest, forcing him back down. "Touch him again, and we'll see how many accidents you run into."
"Hey, hey," I said, trying to ease the tension. "He gets it." My voice was calm, but my heart was racing. I locked eyes with Felicia, her gaze still sharp with amusement. Flash was a bleeding mess beneath her foot, but she didn't seem the least bit bothered.
Reluctantly, she removed her foot, letting Flash stumble to his feet. He wiped the blood from his nose, throwing a glare our way. "W-Whatever. Crazy bitch." He stormed off with his lackeys in tow, leaving an uneasy silence behind.
"Uh... thanks?" I muttered, unsure why Felicia had stepped in this time. She'd seen Flash and his crew rough me up plenty of times before, and she'd never so much as blinked.
"Wow," Harry said, patting Felicia on the back. "You must have some killer leg muscles. He couldn't even lift his head."
But Felicia wasn't listening. Her eyes stayed on me, a hint of something unreadable lurking behind them. Harry noticed too, glancing between us like he'd walked in on something. "Uh... what's going on?"
Felicia smiled, then—without warning—leaned in and kissed Harry full on the lips. His eyes went wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights. For a second, I thought he might faint.
When she pulled back, Harry was still frozen, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "Uh... wow... that was..."
"So, your place after school?" Felicia asked with a playful grin, leaving Harry fumbling over his words.
"Y-Yeah, sure!" he stammered. "I mean, we could go somewhere else if you want, I just thought—"
"Your place is fine," she said, cutting him off with a finger to his lips.
I wasn't sure what I was witnessing anymore. I cleared my throat. "Well, I'll see you guys later."
"Wait, Peter," Felicia called after me. "You're coming too, right? Unless you've got something else to do." She winked, and something about the way she said it made my stomach twist.
"Uh... no? I mean, I probably have homework or something... or, uh..." Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket—an alert about a break-in at an Oscorp facility. "Actually, I just remembered I have a physics test to study for. Gotta go!"
I darted down the hall, leaving their confused glances behind me. The late bell rang, and I raced to my locker, grabbing my patched-up suit and stuffing it into my bag. The halls were empty, and I slipped out of the school unnoticed, adrenaline already kicking in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wind whipped past me as I swung through the city, the strain in my arms and body still there but lighter now. My fight with the Lizard had pushed me to my limits. This was different. I'd fought thugs and thieves before, but Connors... Connors was something else entirely.
As I swung toward Oscorp, the sound of sirens reached my ears. Police cars were already converging on the building. I landed silently on the roof, prying open a vent, and slipped inside.
The stench of chemicals and burning metal hit me hard. Typical Oscorp. I wrinkled my nose, crawling through the vents until I found an opening. Kicking the grate aside, I dropped down into the dark, cold belly of the facility.
I could hear voices echoing from deeper inside the dimly lit facility, faint but urgent, like whispers in a cave. The air was thick with the smell of chemicals, burnt plastic, and something metallic that made my nose wrinkle. I crouched lower, sticking to the shadows as I moved down a narrow steel catwalk that overlooked the heart of the Oscorp factory floor. The faint flicker of fluorescent lights buzzed above me, casting long, jittery shadows against the walls.
Below, rows of machines whirred in mechanical rhythm, their robotic arms moving with cold precision as they assembled sleek vials filled with a strange green liquid. The vials rolled down conveyor belts into crates, neatly packed and sealed, their contents glinting like venom under the harsh light. I couldn't tell what they were manufacturing, but it gave me the same uneasy feeling I got every time I walked into one of these places.
I froze for a moment, listening. The voices were clearer now, low and businesslike. I moved silently along the catwalk, peering through the gaps in the floor toward a group of men gathered near a door at the far end of the factory.
They were heading into a sterile-looking room, its walls stark white, standing out against the grittiness of the rest of the facility. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, and I watched as they moved inside. I followed, crawling along a suspended vent that ran above the room. Through the grate below, I had a perfect view of what they were doing.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was a large green suit. But it wasn't just any suit. I didn't know what I was looking at—the smooth, almost reptilian surface of the armor, the curved tail coiled menacingly behind it.
One of the men, wearing a dark coat and gloves, stepped forward, running his hand over the metal. His fingers traced the contours of the armor, admiring it like a prize he'd been chasing for a long time.
"This is it," one of them said, his voice low but filled with satisfaction. "This is what we were hired to find."
The others nodded in agreement, their eyes gleaming with something between fear and greed.
"What's the next step, Mac?" another man asked, glancing at the leader.
The man named Mac who wore the black coat stepped back, eyeing the suit as if it were alive. "We open it. Make sure it's all intact."
I shifted in the vent, my heart racing. The looked like a relic, locked away for a reason. Whoever hired these guys didn't just want it as a collector's item—they had plans for it, and none of them good.
Mac moves closer to the suit, pressing a button on the side. With a hiss, the chestplate slid open, revealing the complex mechanisms inside—the muscle-like fibers, the reinforced frame, all designed to make a human stronger, faster, deadlier. The sound of it opening was like a predator waking up from a long sleep.
The man stares at the open suit, his smile creeping wider. "This is going to change everything."
I gripped the vent grate, the cold metal biting into my palm. My breath hitched in my throat, the exhaustion that had clung to me for days now like a second skin tightening its grip. My ribs screamed, and every joint in my body felt fused with fatigue. But I had no time to dwell on the pain. With a half-baked plan and no second thoughts, I dropped into the room below.
The men whirled around, their expressions flashing from surprise to shock to outright fear in a matter of seconds.
"Hey," I said, forcing a grin despite the gnawing ache inside me. "Any of you guys know who I talk to about a job interview here?" My voice cracked at the edges, but I hoped the bravado held up.
Two of them didn't waste time with pleasantries. Their pistols were out in a heartbeat, the cold barrels gleaming under the overhead lights.
"It's that Spider-Kid!" one of them barked, his voice breaking.
The shots rang out, and I ducked, my body moving faster than my brain. I webbed his hand before he could fire again, yanking it hard enough for him to smack his buddy square in the face. A meaty thud echoed in the room as I pulled him down, the floor meeting his skull with a satisfying crack.
"Spider-Kid?" I said, my voice harsher than I wanted. "Do I sound like a kid to you?" I webbed the second guy mid-motion and yanked him into my waiting palm, driving it into his chest. He hit the ground, winded and gasping.
I didn't even have time to catch my breath. My senses—normally sharp, heightened—were dull, slow. I glance up, Mac was already in the suit. And clearly it wasn't just any suit.
"Figures," he says, his voice low and gravelly, like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life. "They paid me to test this baby out, and I can't think of a better opportunity than right now."
"How much would I have to pay you to give up go to the cops and turn yourself in?" I shot back, desperation creeping into my voice, even as I webbed the chest plate of the suit. Before I could react, his hand shot out, grabbing the web like it was nothing.
He yanked me toward him, his fist slamming into my chest with the force of a sledgehammer. The breath left my lungs in a violent rush, pain radiating through me like wildfire. Before I could process the blow, his tail—an armored, segmented nightmare—whipped down, slicing into my shoulder. I barely twisted out of the way, but the burn was immediate, searing into my flesh.
"Okay," I gasped, clutching my shoulder, "that hurt."
But something was wrong. My vision blurred, edges swimming in and out of focus. The room tilted, warping, like it was spinning on some sick axis. I tried to raise my hand, but it felt like I was moving underwater.
"What's the matter, Spider?" Mac's voice was distant, warped, like I was hearing it through cotton. "Senses not so hot right now?"
I tried to respond, but my throat was dry, burning. Sweat poured down my face, my body growing hotter, each breath a struggle.
"What... what's happening...?" My words came out slurred, barely audible.
He chuckled, his voice thick with malicious satisfaction. "You don't know, do you? A scorpion's sting releases a cocktail of neurotransmitters. First, you sweat. Then comes the nausea. Then you'll start drooling like a rabid dog before your heart gives out. That's when you die." He stepped closer, his armored fists clenching, the tail whipping back and forth like a coiled viper. "Normally, I don't kill kids, but for you, I'll make an exception."
Panic surged in my chest, but I stumbled backward, firing a web. It connected, but before I could pull away, Mac gripped it, his strength overwhelming mine. With a grunt, he lifted me into the air like I weighed nothing, spinning me in wide circles, faster and faster. The room became a blur of motion, and I was sure I was going to hurl any second.
"Sorry about this, kid," Mac sneered, his voice like gravel grinding against my skull. "But I've got bills to pay. And with this suit, no cop—no Spider—is gonna stand in my way."
He let me go.
I flew through the air, crashing through a concrete wall like it was paper. The impact sent a jagged shockwave of pain through my body, tearing through my already battered ribs. Before I could catch my breath, I smashed into something hard and unyielding—the corner of a metal dumpster—before finally hitting the alley floor with a bone-cracking thud.
Everything hurt. My whole body was screaming, every nerve alight with pain. I tried to stand, clutching at the trash bin for balance, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. My vision swam, darkness creeping at the edges. I could feel blood pooling in my mouth, a sick, metallic taste that made my stomach turn.
"T-That wasn't... fun," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. I fumbled with my mask, pulling it off, feeling the cool air against my sweat-soaked face. I couldn't fight him like this. Not in this condition.
But before I could even move, the world tilted. My legs gave out, and my body crumpled, collapsing against the cold, unforgiving concrete.
The last thing I felt was the darkness swallowing me whole.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meow.
Meow.
A sharp sound cuts through the fog in my head. Soft fur brushes against my cheek, and I feel something nudging me. "H-Hey, cut it out," I mumble, weakly swiping at the cat rubbing its face against mine. My hand barely moves; everything feels heavy. My whole body is burning, soaked in sweat like I've been thrown into a furnace, and my chest is tight, each breath harder than the last.
I blink, and the sky swims into view—dark now, but everything around me is blurry, smeared together. My vision flickers, shapes bending and warping. I can't get my bearings, and my limbs feel like they've been replaced with lead. Nausea twists in my gut, threatening to spill over with every move.
I try to push myself up, but my legs buckle beneath me, and I crash back down. Pain explodes in my ribs, a sharp reminder of where Mac's fists and tail hit. I clutch my shoulder, feeling the burn from where his tail sliced me. But there's something else—something worse than just the physical damage. It's the poison. I can feel it crawling through my veins like fire ants, setting every nerve alight, making my muscles spasm and seize.
If I don't get moving, I'm dead. I can feel it, creeping closer, shutting down parts of me one by one. But I can't go to the hospital. Not an option. There's only one place that might save me.
I keep a stash between 63rd and 49th—a bag of supplies, a change of clothes. It's not far, but in my state, it feels like a million miles. I force my arm to lift, aim the web shooter, and fire. It barely sticks to the edge of the building, but I can't hesitate. I pull myself up, muscles screaming in protest. My legs shake so bad, I can't swing properly, so I crawl—dragging myself up with what little strength I have left.
The rooftops blur together, twisting in and out of focus. I try to swing, but every move is off-balance. I smash into walls, scrape against ledges. Each hit sends another jolt of pain through my cracked ribs, and I feel blood welling up in my mouth. I spit it out, but it keeps coming. My chest feels like it's on fire, and every breath is a battle.
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It's getting worse. The poison, I can feel it spreading. My vision flickers again, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. I stumble across the last rooftop, legs threatening to give out, and drop into the alley below. I barely land on my feet before collapsing to my knees, gasping for air. My heart's racing, pounding so hard it feels like it's going to burst.
There—under that pile of scrap. My bag. I stagger forward, nearly collapsing on top of it, my hands shaking as I dig it out. I can barely get the straps open. My fingers aren't working right, fumbling like they're not even mine. The suit feels like it's glued to my skin, sticky and soaked with sweat. I try to peel it off, but I fall over twice just trying to pull it free.
Every muscle aches, and my head spins so badly I can hardly see straight. Finally, I manage to get into the clothes, but my legs buckle again, and I slump against the wall. I'm sweating more than ever, my body overheating, my heart racing out of control. I try to focus, try to think, but all I can feel is the poison, the pain in my ribs, and the burn in my lungs.
I force myself to stand, but my legs won't cooperate. I stumble into the street, barely able to stay upright. The world spins, tilts, and my vision dims.
I don't know how much longer I can keep going
It feels like hours. Each step heavier than the last, each breath a battle I'm losing. By the time I reach the front steps, I'm not even sure if I'm still upright or just a puppet being yanked around by invisible strings. The house swims in front of me, and I can barely make out the shape of the door. My fist hits it—weakly at first—just a soft thud. I try again, harder this time, but it still sounds like a ghost knocking.
No answer.
I try one more time, putting every last shred of energy into pounding the door.
Finally, I hear something from the other side. Footsteps. Voices. The door swings open, and there she is—Felicia, backlit by the warm glow inside. For a second, the contrast between her and the hell I've been through feels surreal, like I'm looking at a dream.
"Yeah, yeah! Roman, I swear if you didn't—" She freezes mid-sentence, her eyes locking onto mine. I try to smile, but all I manage is a shaky grimace before my knees buckle.
I fall against her, limp as a ragdoll. She barely catches me, her small frame tensing under the dead weight of my body.
"What the hell?!" Her voice is sharp, panicked. She's seen me roughed up before, but this—this is different.
"Darn Stairs," I mutter, the joke coming out flat, lifeless. There's no energy left for humor, but it's all I've got.
Felicia doesn't laugh. She's too busy dragging me inside, slamming the door shut behind us. The sudden warmth of the house is both a comfort and a torment, my fever burning hotter against it. She somehow manages to get me onto the couch, and I collapse like a sack of bones, my chest heaving as I fight for air. My vision blurs, narrowing into a tunnel. I can hear her voice, but it's distant, echoing in the fog of my mind.
"Jesus,..." She kneels beside me, pressing a cool hand against my forehead. Her eyes widen, and she pulls her hand back like she's touched something scalding. "You're burning up. And your mouth—" She lifts my chin, her fingers tracing the dried blood at the corner of my lips. "God, what happened to you?"
I try to speak, but the words die in my throat. My ribs feel like they're caving in, each breath a jagged knife twisting deeper. Felicia pulls up my shirt, her face tightening when she sees the bruises and scars—the leftover battle souvenirs from the Lizard, the deep purple mark where Mac's fist had landed earlier.
Her eyes land on the gash in my shoulder, soaked in blood. She pulls her hand back, looking at the wet crimson on her fingers. "Peter, this is...this is bad. You need a hospital. I'm calling someone."
She reaches for her phone, but I grab her wrist with the last of my strength. My grip is weak, barely enough to stop her, but she hesitates. Her eyes flash with anger, confusion.
"No..." I croak, my voice barely above a whisper. "No hospital...please..."
She stares at me, eyes searching mine for some kind of explanation. There's frustration there, but also something else—concern, fear. She's angry, but she's scared too.
"This is insane," she mutters, shaking her head. "You can't keep doing this. You show up here, bloody and broken, and I'm just supposed to pretend it's normal? You better start talking, Peter. What the hell happened to you?"
I swallow hard, my throat dry, the poison still gnawing at my insides. "Poison..." I manage to rasp. "Was...poisoned..."
Felicia's expression shifts from anger to disbelief, her eyes wide with horror. "Poisoned?! Jesus, Peter..."
But before I can say more, the world tilts. The pain, the heat, the exhaustion—it all crashes over me at once, dragging me under. My grip on her loosens, and I feel consciousness slipping away. Everything goes dark.
Again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I WAKE with a start, the sudden jolt pulling me from a haze that felt both distant and suffocating. The room swims into focus—soft shadows playing on the walls, strange and unfamiliar. My body feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, a sick reminder of the chaos at the Oscorp facility. Every ache and throb is a cruel echo of what I've survived.
"Oh. Guess he's awake now," Felicia says from somewhere in front of me, nestled into the couch with her cat. Her casual tone cuts through the fog, but the warmth in her voice is at odds with the ice in my veins. "And wow, look at that—he's not dead."
"I feel dead," I groan, bringing a hand to my throbbing head. It feels like a jackhammer is working its way through my skull. "What happened?"
She leans back, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat. "Well, you came to my house and started bleeding all over the place again. I tried to fix you up as best I could, but that cut on your shoulder wouldn't stop bleeding. I figured that was the source of the poison. I thought about calling an ambulance, but then your fever started to drop. You began breathing better all of a sudden."
Her words start to piece together a timeline, but they feel distant, like a dream slipping through my fingers. "So, you just played doctor?" I murmur, still wrestling with the lingering fog of pain.
"Something like that," she replies, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. "Whatever that poison was, your body actually started to fight it off. I cleaned you up and waited."
She's right. There's a lightness in my body now, and the blurriness of my vision is fading, though the deep ache in my muscles and the tightness in my chest remain as unwelcome companions. At least I'm not dying. "Thanks," I manage to say, gratitude mixing with guilt. "For helping me again."
"Sure," she mutters, kissing the top of her cat's head, her focus drifting back to the warmth of her little companion.
I swing my legs over the side of the couch and push myself to stand, the effort sending shockwaves of pain through my ribs. I grab my shirt, slipping it back on and fumbling for my bag, the weight of it somehow comforting despite the pain.
"Where are you going?" she asks, her voice sharp enough to cut through my thoughts.
I freeze, my mind scrambling for an excuse. "I'm, uh... I have homework, so—"
"Nope. No way. You don't get to come in here with all these unexplained injuries again and throw some bullshit about homework at me." She stands, her finger pressing against my chest like a stake through my heart. "You're gonna tell me what's going on with you. You just go around getting beat up for fun or what? You in a gang or something?"
I force a weak smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Or something?"
"Explain," she says, crossing her arms with a determined glare that could melt steel.
I let out a long sigh, the weight of her gaze pressing down on me. "It's just... better if I don't. Trust me. I won't do this again. It was selfish to come here. I just didn't know where else to go, and you're the only person I could trust."
Her eyes flicker with something I can't quite place, a mix of surprise and hope. "If you really trust me, then tell me what's going on. Why are you always disappearing from school? Why do you keep ditching Harry? What's with all these injuries?"
I shake my head, feeling the walls closing in around me. "Look, we barely know each other. You're my best friend's girlfriend, and I don't think he'd appreciate me being over here this late. So I really think I should g—"
Felicia's hand shoots out, grabbing me by the collar, her grip fierce and unyielding. "You don't get to pull that. You keep showing up half-dead, and you expect me to just turn the other way?"
"Yes," I say, the word coming out more defiantly than I intend. She releases my collar, her eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and annoyance.
"I'm sorry." The words slip out, but they feel inadequate, a bandage on a wound too deep to heal.
Felicia scoffs, her expression hardening. "Whatever. Not my business, anyway. Only when you need someone to patch you up. Except the next time, that door might just stay closed."
I bite my lip, her words cutting deeper than any blade. She's right; it isn't fair to keep doing this to her. But the thought of anyone finding out—the danger that could come crashing down on her if they did—makes my stomach churn. One of Spider-Man's enemies could target her, and I can't let that happen. I won't. I have a responsibility to keep everyone safe.
"I-I have to go," I say, urgency creeping into my voice. "I won't bother you again. I'm sorry that I came here."
Felicia narrows her eyes, studying me like I'm a puzzle she's trying to solve. "Do whatever you want." She sinks back onto the couch, picking up her cat and turning her attention to the flickering television, as if the screen could shield her from the reality between us.
I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. I turn back once more, hoping to find some flicker of understanding in her gaze, but she's already lost in the glow of the screen. "I'm sorry," I say again, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Then, with a heavy heart, I step through the door and into the night, the darkness swallowing me whole
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I swung up to the top of a large building, my backpack still on, as I listened to the police radio I hacked into a while back.
"Nothing on big scorpion looking guys. You'd think he wouldn't be hard to miss. He must've escaped from the cops earlier, hopefully nobody was too injured." I say, lifting my mask a bit to feel the breeze. I felt sorry for doing that to Felicia, I'd have to apologize properly tomorrow.
Thankfully I didn't have to worry about curfew for the next couple of weeks as Aunt May would be out of town still for her job. Of course she would still check in with me from time to time to make sure I'm keeping up with my studies, I hate having to lie to her, but it's the only way to protect her.
Hours go by, as I finish a slice of pizza that I took the time to go and get, I'm sure it was a surprise for those guys seeing Spider-Man come down and order a large pepperoni. What can I say? Being a superhero works up an appetite.
The sun starts to come up, and I look at the clock on my phone to see it's almost time for school. I consider skipping, but if Aunt May got a call about me missing school she'd flip out. As long as I have this scanner on I can listen out for any trouble. I swing over to Mid-Town high, changing in a nearby alleyway before heading into the school crowded with students already.
"Hey, Pete!" I hear Harry's voice call out from behind me. "We missed you yesterday buddy." He says slapping my back as the bruises ache from his touch. He's accompanied by Felicia, as he has his arm around her, she barely makes eye contact with me.
I laugh sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry. Got uhm...busy last night." I say, hoping she doesn't say anything.
Felicia scoffs, and Harry turns to her. "Something wrong?" He asks.
She just smiles, and shakes her head. "Not a damn thing. Oh, and Peter?"
"Yeah?" I say nervously.
"You got a stain on your shoulder." She says, moving out from under Harry's arm, and past me.
Harry looks at her confused as she walks away, then turns his attention to my shoulder, which is stained red from the blood of last night. I didn't have time to go and grab a fresh pair of clothes.
"Oh, dude she's right. You got like juice or something right there."
"It's just a stain," I say, and together we walk to our first period.
All day I try and listen out for anything on the radio, but it's nothing, not even your common thug. I mean what is this national don't commit a crime day?
My foot taps restlessly against the floor as I sit in the lecture hall, struggling to concentrate. I've always excelled in class; learning comes naturally to me. Before I became Spider-Man, I devoted myself entirely to my studies. Science was my world, my escape, and now I find myself a product of that very world—a walking, talking experiment. Whether that's a blessing or a curse, I'm still trying to figure out.
"Peter?" A soft voice breaks through my thoughts.
I glance to my right and meet Gwen's bright blue eyes. "Yeah, hey, Gwen."
Her smile is infectious, radiating warmth and kindness. "You seem a little... distracted. Is everything okay?"
I nod, but I can feel the slight tremor in my voice as I answer. "Yeah, you know me. Just, uh... worried about this Friday's test."
"Don't stress, Pete. You'd be the top student in our class if you could just remember to turn in your homework on time." She giggles lightly, and it stirs something inside me, a mix of affection and frustration.
Gwen Stacy. Once my best friend in grade school, she's remained a constant presence in my life, even as we drifted apart. Her kindness never wavered toward Harry and me, and if I'm honest, I still carry a crush on her—a deep, unyielding admiration that feels both familiar and impossible. Every guy at school wants to be with her, and I can't blame them; she's beautiful, smart, and funny, with a smile that could light up the darkest day. The way she carries herself—confident yet approachable—makes my heart race.
"Mr. Parker, if I'm not mistaken, this isn't social hour; this is Biology," Mr. Octavius chimes in, his voice dripping with the monotony that has become his trademark. I can hear Harry stifling a snicker from behind me.
"Sorry, sir." I manage a sheepish reply, but I feel my cheeks heat up.
"You always are," he retorts, not bothering to hide his annoyance. His bored expression remains unchanged, as if he's seen it all before. "Focus, Mr. Parker. Focus."
Gwen shoots me an apologetic smile, her concern palpable, and I sink lower in my seat. I hate this feeling of being pulled in two different directions. The pressure of my responsibilities as Spider-Man clashes with my desire to excel academically and maintain some semblance of a normal life.
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"This suit is incredible! I mean, with this, I can take whatever I want, from whoever I want." Mac Gargan's voice is full of excitement as he admires his reflection in the cracked mirror, running a hand over the smooth, armored surface of the Scorpion suit.
Carl, his partner in crime, watches from the worn-out couch, beer in hand, unimpressed by his friend's enthusiasm. "Yeah? Well, don't get too attached. We were paid to test that thing out, not keep it. We report back to the big man in a few hours, get our cash, and that's that. So take it off already."
But Mac just grins wider, clenching his fists as an idea takes shape. "You don't get it, do you? Why the hell should we hand this over?"
Carl raises an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his beer. "What're you saying? Like... keep it?"
"Yeah, you idiot!" Mac turns to him, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "We could take the money and this suit. Hell, I already took out that Spider brat once, didn't I? Cops couldn't even make a scratch. With this, we could do whatever we want, and no one could stop us."
Carl sets his beer down, his expression suddenly more serious. "Yeah, but... you really think the big man's just gonna let that slide? He built that thing. Don't you think he's got a way to shut it down, or worse? The dude's not exactly known for being forgiving."
Mac's laugh is harsh, almost mocking. "Let me worry about the big man. I know how to handle him. And if Spider-Kid shows up again, well..." His grin turns feral as he swings the suit's lethal tail, shattering a nearby window. Venom drips from the sharp stinger, sizzling as it hits the floor. "I'll make sure he doesn't get back up this time."
Carl shifts uneasily, glancing from the broken window to Mac's crazed look. "Okay, so...what's the plan?"
Mac paces the room, the weight of the Scorpion suit making him feel unstoppable. "First thing's first—we need leverage. Something big, something that'll make us untouchable."
Carl rubs the back of his neck. "Leverage? Like what?"
Mac's grin widens. "We get ahead of him, and we don't just keep the suit—we own this city."
Carl exhales slowly, unsure whether his partner's ambition will lead them to riches or get them killed. But Mac's already too far gone, lost in the intoxicating power the suit offers.
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"Achoo!" I sneeze. "Somebody must be talking about me." I say, and Harry just shakes his head taking a bite of his sandwhich.
"Peter, nobody's talking about you." He grins, and I roll my eyes.
Felicia sits quietly, a hand on her cheek as she watched the rest of the students talk and eat amongst themselves. I wondered if she was still angry about yesterday, if she was she didn't really let it show, the fact that she wasn't saying anything surprised me quite a bit. It made me wonder if she's got any secrets of her own, not that she'd ever tell me of course.
"Hey, Pete. So tonight, you sure you're not gonna be able to come out? I mean, we haven't had a real hang out in a while now. I miss you, man." Harry says, and I can tell that my absence is affecting him more than I thought. The hard part about being Spider-Man is having to sacrifice parts of Peter's life.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I know I haven't been around as much but you know that if it wasn't anything important there's nowhere I'd rather be than hanging out with you." I say, hoping that's enough to subside his hard feelings.
He smiles wryly. "I know, Pete. I know."
Before I can say anything, I hear screams, and it rips our attention towards the large main gates. "What was that?" I say, and Harry grabs Felicia.
"I don't know, man. We should—" A large car comes flying in our direction, and I see a kid, Kevin, frozen still in the path of the car.
"Hey!" I shout, running over and grabbing the kid pulling him out of the way as the car lands smashing the table.
Kevin turns to me, "t-thanks, you got quick reflexes," he says sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Y-Yeah, guess it's just the adrenaline." I respond, then he gets up and starts running back inside followed by the other students who run in fear.
"Harry, we have to—"
I stop as I see Harry in the clutches of that man, the one in the Scorpion suit, held by his throat.
Felicia was on the ground, struggling to stand. "B-Bastard..." She grumbles.
"Look kid, I just need you for a few hours then we're set. You play nice and I'll let you go soon enough." The man smiles, gripping Harry's throat tighter.
Harry turns his face as much as he can, "Pe-Pete..." He says, and I know that I can't do anything as Peter Parker.
"I'll...I'll get help!" I say, running back inside of the building, feeling my heart squeeze as I wondered what thoughts must be going through Harry's head as he watched me run away.
"Peter?! What's happening?!" Gwen grabs me, as students rush all around us.
I look at her panicked expression, knowing I don't have time to sit and chat. "Look just get somewhere safe!" I say, pulling away from her grasp heading to where I kept my suit. I felt anger bubbling inside of me, I won't let this guy get away with this.
I open my locker, looking around as students and teachers alike rushed around, stuffing my suit in my bag quickly and heading to the bathroom, changing as fast as I could, I leap up into the ceiling of the bathroom, then crawling through the ceiling until I reached something that would take me to the roof. From there I swung down to the field where I could see Harry being dragged by the Scorpion.
"Hey! I'm pretty sure that suit doesn't fit the dress code!" I say, and the Scorpion turns to face me. "Let him go."
"Really? Spider-Kid, again?" He drops Harry, and rushes to me.
"It's Spider-Man," I say sheepishly, jumping as he charged me swiping at me with his tail which I take care to dodge as he stabs at me continuously to try and hit me with that venom. "Not this time!" I say, webbing his face, and landing a blow in his chest knocking him back. "Now can you stay down and let me take that thing off you?"
Before he could respond the police sirens, came from the entrance, and multiple cars stopped right beside us, with officers getting out and pointing their weapons at the both of us. One of which I recognized to be Captain Stacy, definitely not who I wanted to see right now.
He's had it out for me ever since I started this job.
I raise my hands. "Wait! Despite how it looks he and I are two guys wearing bug suits who aren't on the same side!"
"Put your hands up!" Captain Stacy shouts, and I listen, raising my hands slowly.
"Look, just, this guy is dangerous and crazy strong so—" I felt a kick to my stomach sending me back to the ground hard, the Scorpion had risen to his feet, ripping the webbing off his face and charging for Captain Stacy and his partner fire at him.
Their bullets don't even faze him as he moves closer, I try to web his back but using his tail he ripped my webbing and stabbed into the chest of Captain Stacy's partner.
"No!" I shout, jumping to my feet and webbing both of his arms, but he pulls me in slamming me into the cop car sending glass flying everywhere. "Ouch," I mutter, and he grabs me by the throat throwing me into Captain Stacy who was charging for us knocking the two of us down.
I stand up, helping Captain Stacy to his feet, "get out of here!" I shout, and he looks at his downed partner then to me stunned.
"You're...You're just a kid," he says.
"Yeah, a kid who can lift a bus above his head. Now go! Get your partner to safety!" I say, and he nods heading in the other direction, grabbing his partner and carrying him out of danger. I turn back to the Scorpion who was heading back to Harry, who is frozen still.
"Harr—I mean kid! Run!" I shout, but he doesn't move, and I web a piece of the car door, ripping it off then I leapt into the air spinning it around until I swung it towards the Scorpion who whipped around and I slammed the door directly into the side of his suit, knocking him to the ground, then I webbed him until his entire body was covered.
I knew with that tail of his it wouldn't be long until he freed himself, but for Harry..."Get out of here, right now!" I shout, and this time Harry turns to me, and he stands up and starts to run towards the school and into the arms of Felicia who gives me a look, before they both turn out of sight.
"Goddamn it!" The Scoprion rips out of my webs. "I needed that brat! You're dead."
"Yeah, yeah." I say, and he charges at me, swiping his tail in an attempt to stab me.
The Scorpion charges at me, his tail whipping through the air like a wrecking ball. Each movement is wild but powerful, smashing into the ground, cracking the pavement under its weight. I leap into the air, dodging the venomous tail by inches, feeling the whoosh of air as it narrowly misses my head.
"Come on, is that all you've got?" I taunt, but my heart pounds in my chest. My words might be cocky, but every fiber of my body is on high alert. This guy's different. Stronger, faster—way more dangerous than before. I can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Harry almost died, and if I make one wrong move, he could still get hurt.
I've fought lots of guys. Strong guys. But every time, I hold back. I have to hold back. One wrong punch, one miscalculated kick, and I could end someone's life. There are moments when I feel the power humming inside me, this quiet but ever-present danger. It scares me more than anyone I face, to be honest. If I ever let loose... no, I can't think like that. Not now.
I fire another web, aiming for Scorpion's tail, but he's ready. With a quick flick, he snaps it away before it even touches him. He barrels forward, swinging his massive claws at me. I duck low, sliding beneath his swipe, my palms skidding across the cold, cracked asphalt.
"You're fast," I mutter under my breath, pushing off the ground to flip behind him, "but not fast enough."
I shoot another web at his legs, trying to trip him up, but he kicks through it like it's tissue paper. His tail spins around again, this time faster than I expect. I feel the sharp sting of venom graze my side, a searing pain spreading instantly.
"Gah!" I grunt, clenching my teeth. I jump back, hand clutching my side. The suit's padding took most of it, but I can already feel the burning sensation creeping through my body. Not good. Not good at all.
"You feel that, bug-boy?" Scorpion grins, his teeth bared like a predator smelling blood. "That's just a taste. One full hit from this, and you'll be begging for mercy."
I stagger back, trying to focus through the pain. I can't let him get the upper hand, not like this. My mind races, trying to figure out how to take him down. He's too strong for me to beat in a straight-up fight. I need to think... fast.
Scorpion charges again, and I barely manage to dodge. But I feel myself slowing down, the venom doing its work. I can't keep this up for long.
"Come on, Parker," I mutter to myself. "Think."
And then it hits me. He's relying too much on that tail, using it like his trump card. It's his strength, but also his weakness. If I can immobilize it, even just for a moment, I might stand a chance. But how?
I jump onto a nearby streetlamp, swinging around it as Scorpion slashes through the base, sending it crashing to the ground. He's getting more erratic, more frustrated. He's stronger than me, sure, but that means he's used to overpowering everyone. Maybe he hasn't fought someone who's... *smarter* than him. I just need to out-think him.
"Is this what they call a mid-life crisis, or are you just naturally this angry?" I call out, trying to buy myself some time.
"Shut up!" he roars, his tail slamming into a nearby car, sending it skidding across the street. The venom from his tail sizzles as it drips onto the pavement, eating through the concrete like acid.
I swing between two streetlights, trying to stay ahead of him, my mind still racing. Then I see it: the power lines running along the street, stretching between the buildings. Electricity. It's risky, but it might be my only shot. If I can get him tangled in those lines and charge them up, I could overload his suit.
Scorpion lunges at me again, his claws slashing wildly. I dodge left, then right, flipping over his tail as it stabs at the ground. With a quick flick of my wrist, I shoot a web toward the power lines, yanking them loose. Sparks fly as the live wires dangle above the street, crackling with energy.
I leap toward him, deliberately getting close, too close, hoping he takes the bait. Sure enough, his tail comes lashing out, aiming for my chest.
At the last second, I twist my body mid-air, just barely avoiding the strike, and instead, I grab hold of his tail, using its momentum to swing myself around. He's surprised, thrown off-balance just enough for me to pull the power lines toward him.
The live wires wrap around his tail, and for a second, nothing happens. Then, there's a crackling sound, followed by a violent surge of electricity. Scorpion's body convulses as the current courses through his suit, sparks flying everywhere.
But he's not down yet. His strength is insane. Even with the electricity frying his suit, he's still fighting, still thrashing. I can see the agony on his face, the sheer force of will it's taking for him to stay upright.
I can't hold back anymore. If I don't stop him now, someone else is going to get hurt—maybe worse.
I jump forward, my hands trembling as I ball them into fists. My mind is screaming at me, warning me to be careful, to hold back like I always do. But not this time. This time, I don't pull my punch.
I slam my fist into his chest with everything I've got, feeling the impact reverberate through my arm. The suit buckles under the force, cracks spidering out from the point of impact. Scorpion lets out a choked gasp, the wind knocked out of him as he crashes to the ground.
I stand over him, panting hard, my chest heaving. For a second, I'm afraid I've gone too far. He's not moving. Did I—
But then I hear it—a groan, low and pained, as Scorpion shifts, trying to get up. His suit's fried, the power surging through it has shorted out, but he's still conscious. Barely.
I stumble back, the adrenaline wearing off, and the burning pain in my side returns with a vengeance. I clutch my ribs, wincing. "That was... harder than I thought," I mutter to myself.
The rest of the police, led by Captain Stacy are now brave enough to close in, they start cuffing Scorpion, who's too weak to resist. Captain Stacy looks at me, eyes wide. "How the hell did you—"
"Lots of vegetables," I say, cutting him off, raising my hand. "Just... make sure he's locked up tight. And maybe keep him away from any tail attachments."
"Look, I appreciate the assist. My daughter goes to this school, and I know that you're trying to do good but...you need to let the law handle this." Captain Stacy says, and for a moment, it looks as though he's not saying this as a cop, but almost like a concerned parent.
"I appreciate the advice." I say, not wanting to engage in anymore fights for the moment, I start to limp away, my body screaming in protest. Every step hurts, but it's a good hurt. The kind that reminds me I made it through.
"Good work," Captain Stacy shouts from behind me, and I can only raise a hand not bothering to turn around.
It wasn't a clean victory. But I won. For Harry. For all the people who count on Spider-Man to show up, even when Peter Parker wants to run.
And as I disappear into the shadows, I know that holding back—no matter how hard—is still the right thing to do. Because the day I stop, the day I let the full weight of my power loose and kill someone, is the day I stop being Spider-Man.
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I sit atop the building, the city sprawled beneath me like a never-ending sea of lights and noise. The cool night air hits my face, sharp and refreshing, though it does little to numb the dull ache of the poison still coursing through my veins. I've been trying to breathe through it, trying to convince myself that Felicia's right—that my body will fight it off, that I'll bounce back. But right now, every breath feels like it's on fire.
I pull off my mask, running a hand through my hair. The night is peaceful, the kind of peace I rarely get to experience. Up here, above the chaos, it's almost easy to forget the pain. Almost.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration cutting through the quiet. Harry. I already know this call isn't going to be easy. I brace myself, trying to prepare for whatever's about to come out of his mouth.
"Hey, man. It's uh... good to hear you're okay," I say, my voice tight, like I'm trying too hard to sound normal.
There's silence on the other end. For a moment, I think he might hang up. Then his voice breaks through, low and strained. "Yeah, I'm okay. Haven't heard from you since what happened at school, just wanted to say uh... I understand. I mean, a giant bug guy came out of nowhere and tried to kill me. So I get why you ran."
The guilt hits me like a punch to the gut. "Yeah. Thanks, I uh—"
"But I don't get why you haven't come by to see me." His words cut through me, sharper than any villain's attack. And of course, right at that moment, the poison flares up again, a burning reminder of why I haven't been able to do anything but survive the last few hours.
I swallow hard, trying to find the words, but nothing comes. "It's... well..."
"Don't bother coming up with some excuse, Pete. I'll see you around." His voice is cold, distant, and it hurts more than the venom. "Take care of yourself."
The line goes dead, leaving me with nothing but the wind and my thoughts.
I sit there, staring at the phone like it might somehow give me the right answer. But the truth is, there isn't one. What am I supposed to say? That I ran because I couldn't risk him finding out who I really am? That I haven't shown up because I've been fighting off poison from a lunatic in a scorpion suit?
I can't tell him any of that. Harry's my best friend, but the second I put on this suit, Peter Parker doesn't get to have easy answers anymore. I can stop a car from crushing a kid, I can take down some villain hopped up on tech or serum, but I can't stop the people I care about from getting hurt.
The worst part? He's right. I haven't gone to see him because I'm afraid. Afraid of the questions, of the disappointment in his eyes. Afraid that if he looks too closely, he'll see through the mask—even when I'm not wearing it.
Sometimes, the hardest part about being Spider-Man isn't the fights or the villains or the constant danger. It's coming back to the people who still expect Peter Parker to show up. To be the guy they've always known, even when I'm not sure I know who that guy is anymore.
I stare out over the city, the weight of the night pressing down on me. The streets below keep moving, like nothing's changed. But everything has, and I don't know how to make it right.
For now, though, all I can do is wait. Heal. And hope that by the time I figure things out, it won't be too late for Peter Parker to come home.