Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Spider-Man created by Stan Lee & Steve Ditko

My Hero Academia created by Kohei Horikoshi

All art done by me

Introduction 

It all began centuries ago, in the bustling heart of KeiKei City, China, where a newborn child bathed in a mysterious glowing light had entered the world. That single spark lit the fuse for an extraordinary future. Before long, more and more individuals began to exhibit strange and wondrous power, for the world was changing fast.  

But mankind wasn’t ready as fear took hold. These super-powered people were branded as 'Mutants'. Feared and hated, cast aside as nature’s mistakes. Chaos and prejudice reigned supreme. However, in a turn of events, what was once supernatural became the natural. As of today, 80% of the population are born with these same abilities now called 'Quirks.' But power as always, is a double-edged sword. In this uncertain period, crisis came. A new age of villains rose from the shadows, but from that darkness emerged the light: Heroes.

Bold champions of justice, defenders of the weak: MARVELS. These brave men and women would go on to turn heroism into a government-sanctioned force for good. While the world today is a place of wonders, it’s still far from perfect. And for two particular boys would learn that in this world, not everyone is born equal. As both were part of the 20% that would not possess a quirk. However, despite the future for them looking grim, the two would go on to shake the world of heroism forever. One of a chosen greatness and the another: a thrusted upon responsibility.  

And one of them would be known as... Spider-Man 

Issue One 

Peter Parker: Origin 

14-year-old Peter Benjamin Parker was, by most accounts at Midtown Middle School, painfully average or so his classmates liked to think. To them, he was just another scrawny kid who liked "nerd stuff" a little too much. That alone was enough to put a target on his back. But what really set Peter apart, and not in a good way, was the fact that he was part of the unlucky 20% born without a Quirk. In a world where nearly everyone had powers, that made him a nobody or worse... an easy punching bag. And today? That reality was unfolding yet again. 

Midtown’s self-proclaimed “Golden Boy”: Flash Thompson, and his group of fellow jocks, were dragging Peter toward the nearest bathroom stall, eager to carry out a familiar, humiliating ritual. The swirlie. 

"Hope this is the last time we have to teach you this lesson, Parker!" Flash sneered, yanking Peter into a headlock while the others forced open a stall. 

“C’mon, Eugene! Isn’t this getting a little old?” Peter groaned, squirming as one kid grabbed his legs. “You guys ever think about doing something new for once?! You're all so unoriginal!” 

One of the kids grunted as he struggled to lift him. “Jeez! Why does Parker feel heavier today?” 

“Yeah,” another muttered, straining. “Looks like he’s actually fighting back!” 

Peter let out a short laugh; his voice tinged with mockery. “Maybe you’re all just getting weaker in your old age.” 

Annoyed, Flash grabbed a fistful of Peter’s thick brown hair and began forcing his head toward the toilet. “Shut up, Parker! Time to wash out that shit-talking mouth of yours!” 

“Get him in!” 

“Eat shit Parker!” 

“God why is he not budging?!” 

“He’s almost in!” 

Peter’s ears are filled with the sounds of antagonizing and confusion. His round glasses tumbled off and hit the water with a loud plunk just as he braced his hands against the seat, holding himself steady. Normally, he’d be powerless to stop them, but today he wasn’t budging. 

‘This is weird,’ Peter thought, arms locked like steel. ‘They’re all pushing down on me... but I barely feel it. I could probably pump out a few pushups with them on my back. But... that would raise questions.’ He let his elbows buckle slightly, feigning weakness just enough to sell it, preparing for the inevitable dunk. 

“You know... he’s right. This is getting old,” came a calm, confident voice from the doorway. The shuffling stopped and Peter heard the shoes squeak on the tile, the sudden hush of movement as the jocks turned. 

“Back off, Osborn...” Flash growled. 

“Hey now, I’m tryin’ to help you here, Flash,” the redheaded kid drawled, leaning casually against the sink across from the stall. “You do remember what’ll happen if the faculty catches you again, right? You can kiss goodbye to that little hero career you’re bettin’ on.” 

Flash shot him a glare, but before he could say a word, one of the jocks tapped him on the shoulder nervously. “He’s got a point, man,” the jock muttered. “We’re already on thin ice... I’m not taking the fall for messing with Puny Parker again.” 

Flash gritted his teeth and sighed through his nose. “Fine...” he hissed. He glanced over his shoulder at Peter. “But this isn’t over, Parker.” Peter was just starting to push himself upright as a weird tingle scratches the back of his head when Flash suddenly lashed out with his leg, kicking Peter’s shin and sending him tumbling forward face first into the toilet bowl. The bathroom echoed with the splash of water and laughter as the bullies made their exit. 

“Real mature…” The redhead muttered under his breath. He shook his head, then tore a paper towel from the dispenser and walked over to the dripping mess that was Peter Parker. “You’ve really got a gift for getting into trouble, huh Pete?” He said, holding the towel out. Peter lifted his head slowly, gross water dripping from his hair and face as he took the paper towel. 

“What can I say?” He sighed. “The Parker luck just never lets up, huh Harry?” Peter quipped. Harry Osborn chuckled and offered a hand, helping Peter to his feet. 

Despite their wildly different upbringings: Peter from a modest, lower-middle class home, and Harry being raised in privilege as the heir to one of the biggest corporations in America. The two had been best friends since fourth grade and despite everything, they stuck together. 

Sometimes that meant Peter helping Harry scrape together a science project the night before it was due. Other times, it meant Harry convincing Flash not to hang a giant embarrassing sixth grade photo of his bullied friend.

The bright teen would describe their friendship as... mutually beneficial. Like those little birds that clean an alligator’s teeth. Peter helped Harry keep his grades high, while Harry kept Peter’s social life from completely imploding. 

“So,” Harry said, stuffing his hands into his tight pockets, “what was it this time?” 

Peter dried his glasses on the bottom of his shirt. “They were picking on some poor kid, had him duct-taped to a wall. Then they saw me and asked if I’d take a picture.” 

“Let me guess... you said no?” 

“Yup, I told them they could shove it. Then I called Flash an asshat and you saw how well that went.” 

Harry snorted. “At this point, I’m starting to think you do have a Quirk.” 

“Oh yeah?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “What Quirk would that be?” 

“Running your mouth 24/7,” Harry smirked. 

“Har har,” Peter replied dryly, straightening his collar. Then he sighed. “Honestly? I wish that was my Quirk. Even a dumb one would be something...” 

Harry’s grin faded as he looked at his friend. Peter tried to hide it, but Harry could tell that he hit a nerve. Being Quirkless has always been a sore spot for Peter. While the boy didn’t dream of being a hero like so many others their age, not having a Quirk in a world full of superhumans made the loneliness hit harder. Like he didn’t belong anywhere.

Harry sighed, then smiled as he threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “C’mon, Pete, don’t be like that. You’ve got, like... a billion more chromosomes than someone like Flash.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure having that many isn’t a good thing.” 

Harry paused, then shrugged. “Okay sure, but you do have more going on up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “And that’s worth way more than any Quirk.” 

Peter let out a soft snort and cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Harry.” His best friend nodded and held the bathroom door open as the two stepped into the hallway. 

“We should probably get moving,” Peter muttered, glancing at the clock. “Lunch is almost over.” A moment passed before Harry gave him a sideways look. “You okay, dude? I mean, yeah, Flash just gave you a face full of turd water, but you seem... more worn out than usual.” 

Peter scratched the back of his head, trying to play it off. “I-It’s nothing, really. Just… midterms coming up. And y’know...o ther stuff.” Harry frowned, more seriously this time. “You’re not the type to stress over tests, dude. I know you don’t like talking about it, but if this is about-“ 

Before he could finish, a familiar voice called out from down the hall. 

“There you two goofballs are!” 

The duo turned to see Gwen Stacy jogging up to them and Peter’s face lit up instantly. She looked effortlessly warm and radiant, her soft golden hair bouncing with each step. That light daisy-scented perfume gently trailing behind her, and the fuzzy dark grey sweater layered over her pale blue polo made her stand out in the best way. To Peter, she looked like the human version of comfort and kindness. 

He always found Gwen cute, even back in sixth grade when most of their classmates wrote her off as just another nerdy girl. But lately, his feelings have grown deeper. Ever since they were paired as lab partners in fourth-period science, they’d been spending more time together and actually getting close. 

Peter had thought about telling her how he felt, more times than he could count. However, he never quite worked up the nerve as his track record asking girls out wasn’t exactly great. At best, he’d get a polite “no.” At worst? He’d get laughed at before Flash kicked him in the shin again. And lately, it has only gotten harder. 

Gwen had what people were calling a “glow-up” this year, and with it came a wave of attention. Guys left and right were trying to ask her out, though she politely turned down every one of them. Still, Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk it. What if she didn’t want anything more than friendship? What if he messed everything up? So, for now, he stayed content with what they had even if part of him wished it could be more. 

“I’ve been looking all over. Where’ve you been hiding?” Gwen called as she jogged up, slinging her backpack higher on her shoulder. Peter opened his mouth to answer, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse that didn’t involve toilets. “Well, uh, we were just-” 

“Pete got swirlied again,” Harry said flatly, cutting him off. 

“Harry!” Peter whined, shooting him a betrayed look. 

Gwen’s face instantly soured. “Ugh. Let me guess... Flash?” Harry gave a single nod. Gwen huffed, crossing her arms. “God! Can’t that guy just f-” The lunch bell blared overhead with a loud RING, cutting off what was very clearly about to be a profanity filled rant. She sighed, then turned to Peter. “Please tell me he didn’t do anything too awful this time.” 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Aside from a little dunk, Harry managed to talk him down. So... no need for some Iron Man branded bandages.” Harry and Gwen exchanged a look and let out matching sighs. 

Peter placed a hand on each of their shoulders as they started walking toward class. “Hey, really don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Let’s not let that jerk ruin the rest of the day.” 

“If you say so, Pete,” Harry said, giving him a quick nod before peeling off toward his next class. “Catch you geeks after school!” 

“See you, Harry.” 

“Later, dude!” 

With Harry gone, Peter and Gwen fell into a quieter rhythm as they made their way to class. A beat passed before Gwen glanced over at him. 

“So,” she said, nudging his elbow, “anything exciting going on in the wild world of Peter Parker?” Peter shrugged. “Not really. Been helping Aunt May out at home. Studying. You know...real interesting stuff.” 

Gwen gave him the look. 

“What?” Peter blinked. “Why are you giving me the look?” 

“Because you’ve been off lately,” she said, slowing to a stop. “You’re spacing out in class, barely hanging out with me and Harry, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Just kinda drifting.” Peter looked away, unsure what to say, but Gwen wasn’t done. She took both of his hands in hers, and Gwen’s tone softened. 

“I know it’s only been a month since... you know. And I get that you’re still dealing with it. But Peter, you don’t have to shut us out.” 

Peter’s expression faltered, his usual smile slipping just a bit. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. 

“It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted. “May’s been holding it together for my sake, and I’ve been trying to do the same for her, but... without him around, everything feels off. Like the house is too quiet now.” He paused and managed a small smile. “But I’ll be okay. I just... need time.” 

Gwen looked at him for a long moment, then gave a quiet nod and returned the smile. “Okay, but don’t forget, we’re here for you.” 

Peter nodded. “I know. Thanks, Gwen.” She let go of his hands and tapped one of them with a playful smirk. “Now come on. We’re already pushing it, and I’m not getting another tardy because you got dunked headfirst into a toilet.” 

“Hey, that didn’t... ugh.” Peter groaned as they started walking again. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” she teased. 

Hours Later... 

The final bell had rung, and the usual after-school exodus began. Midtown Middle School’s front steps flooded with teens eager to escape. Some heading home, others making plans to stretch out every ounce of freedom before curfew hit. 

“Yo, you guys wanna come over?”

“C’mon, man, we need one more dude.”

“Did you hear that Ken knocked up Wendy?”

“Mrs. Anderson is such a bitch! I didn’t even do anything!” 

“Hey, let’s go to the mall. I saw these super cute shorts the other day!” 

Peter Parker walked among the crowd, trying to keep his head down and his senses steady. He always dreaded getting out of the building after school. The moment those doors opened, it was like a dam broke and the flood of noise hit all at once. 

New York was always noisy, but this was chaotic. Too many conversations clashing at once. Too many voices, too much energy, too much everything. He’d trained himself to tune it out over time, but some days, like today, it was just exhausting. His brain felt like an overstuffed box. Rumors he didn’t care to hear, stories that made him cringe, and Quirk mishaps that sounded more like bad comedy sketches than real life. 

He pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as he followed Gwen and Harry toward the sidewalk across from the school. 

Once they reached the crosswalk, Harry turned to his friends excitedly. “So! You guys wanna hit up The Coffee Bean? They just dropped this new thing called the Chocolate Thunder. I don’t know what it is, but I need it.” 

Gwen perked up. “Ooo chocolate? I’m in.” 

Harry turned to Peter. “What about you, Pete?” 

Peter hesitated, then gave a small, apologetic shake of his head. “Sorry... I think I’m gonna head home.” 

Harry frowned. “Aw, come on, dude. Why?” 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding their eyes. “I just... I think May could use a hand today. She’s been kind of tired lately, and-“ 

“Dude!” Harry interrupted, half-pleading. “You’ve barely hung out with us all week! The trio’s all out of sync without you. And let me tell you, I can only take so many ‘fun facts about 90s music’ from Gwen before my brain melts!” 

Gwen gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart like he’d just insulted her grandmother. “Excuse you! First of all, it’s 80s, not 90s and second, how dare you slander the peak of music!” 

Peter raised both hands, chuckling as they slipped into their usual back-and-forth. “Okay, okay! I want to hang out, I do. I’m just... not feeling it today. I’m sorry.” 

Harry sighed. “Alright... if you say so.” 

Peter frowned, guilt tugging at him. He quickly pulled them both into a quick, tight hug. “I know I’ve been distant, but I promise next time, I’ll be there.” 

Gwen smirked, arms crossed. “You better. I’m holding you on to that.” 

He took a few steps backward, still smiling. “I promise!” 

Harry grinned. “See you tomorrow, Pete!” 

“Tell May I said hi!” Gwen added, waving. 

Peter gave them one last wave and turned toward the direction of the subway entrance, jogging off into the crowd. As he disappeared into the bustling city noise, the smile slowly faded from his face. 

... 

A month ago, Peter would’ve said yes to that Coffee Bean run without hesitation. A month ago, he’d be joking with Harry and Gwen on the subway ride home, trying not to trip over someone's backpack. A month ago, he’d walk through the front door of his apartment to find Aunt May humming in the kitchen and Uncle Ben sitting on the couch, either halfway through a Star Wars marathon or polishing his old bowling trophies. But all of that felt like another life. 

A month ago, everything changed when he was bitten by a spider during a field trip at Oscorp Tower. 

He still didn’t know exactly what happened. Whether that spider gave him a Quirk or just triggered one he never knew he had, either way, it flipped his world upside down. At first, he thought it was a blessing. For once, life had handed him something other than a bad break. No more being the Quirkless kid everyone looked down on. No more helplessness. 

But power has a way of getting into your head. 

And it did. He got careless and arrogant. Then he paid the price. 

As Peter climbed the side of a brick building, the city buzzing faintly beneath him; the thoughts played on repeat, like they had for weeks. At the top, he pulled himself onto the rooftop and stood still for a moment. 

The skyline stretched out before him, towers gleaming under the late afternoon sun, the city alive with noise and movement. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as the familiar ache returned. Not too long ago, he would have seen this view and thought of all the possibilities. Now, he saw responsibility. 

A burden he hadn’t asked for but one he chose to carry. Because if he didn’t… who would? 

Peter let out a shaky breath, then slung his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it to the rooftop with a soft thud. He knelt and yanked the zipper open, revealing a neatly folded set of bright red gear tucked inside. 

First, he pulled off his glasses and carefully placed them back in their case. He didn’t need them anymore, not since the bite. His vision, once so blurry he could barely read the blackboard without squinting, had become razor-sharp. It wasn’t just his sight, either. Every sense felt dialed up to eleven. Sounds, smells, even the faintest movements in his peripheral vision. 

Peter shrugged off his yellow jacket and kicked off his worn white sneakers. Then he started gearing up. He slid into a sleek red jacket, tight-fitting and lightweight, with two black trapezoid-like panels running down the sides of his torso and wrapping toward his back. The sleeves were solid black, blending into a pair of red and black gloves that were snug around his wrists. His shoes were swapped for red running sneakers, built for speed and grip. Finally, he pulled a red ski mask over his head, tucking his hair away, and fitted a pair of yellow-tinted goggles over his eyes. The lenses glinted faintly in the sunlight. 

Not quite a professional hero uniform but it was a start. Suited up and ready, Peter stepped to the edge of the rooftop. The city sprawled out beneath him, buzzing, restless, and alive. He crouched low, scanned the streets for trouble, then sprang forward. A blur of motion as he launched himself to the next rooftop, his body moving with effortless power. 

Whatever the city had in store for him today... he was ready. 

... 

If you had told Peter Parker a year ago that he’d end up as an illegal vigilante, he would've scoffed in your face. 

Sure, he admired heroes like Captain America and Iron Man, the iconic faces of the world’s top hero team: The Avengers, but he never saw himself becoming like them. Doing the noble deed to save others... didn’t really appeal to him. The world already had enough heroes. Everyone was living in a rare age of peace, thanks to The Avengers and Japan’s very own Symbol of Peace: All Might. 

Peter’s dream was simpler. He wanted to be a scientist. He had dreams of working on I-Island, making breakthroughs alongside the brightest minds in the world. Aspirations he was dead set on. 

But all it took was one week to change everything. 

Now, Peter is leaping across rooftops, actively looking for trouble. Being a hero was never part of the plan, but becoming a vigilante? That was even further down the list. In the eyes of society, vigilantes were just reckless amateurs. Wannabes who jumped into danger without the proper training or license. They were seen as a nuisance, a joke. 

Not paying attention, Peter nearly slips on a loose brick along the edge of a rooftop as a light buzz fills his head. 

“Jeez!” He mutters, catching himself. “I really need to find a better way to get around. These powers help sure, but I’m not a trained gymnast.” 

He then thinks back to Gwen and Harry. Of course, they have no idea what he’s been up to. They don’t even know he has a Quirk. He’s always felt guilty about lying to the only friends he has. At first, he kept his Quirk a secret because well, he’d imagined revealing it to humiliate Flash in front of the whole school. It was his way of showing the world that “Puny Parker” wasn’t so puny anymore. 

Now, he cringes at that old mindset. He used to feel like he owed the world nothing. Looking back, he sees how selfish that was. 

Since the incident, the one that pushed him into this life, Peter’s done everything he can to keep Gwen and Harry out of it. They’re one of the only people left who truly matter to him, and he refuses to drag them into this mess. Still, part of him wishes he could lean on them, just a little. Even on the good days, doing this “job” is hard. 

But he can’t. For their sake and especially May’s. 

He felt the deepest guilt when it comes to her, the woman who raised him, the one barely holding things together after losing Ben. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her, not after everything she’s been through. Not now. 

Just as the thought passes, Peter hears the faint screech of metal echo from a nearby alley, two streets over. He hops his way there and crouches at the edge of the roof, spotting four masked men surrounding a black car. One’s jamming a screwdriver into the lock, clearly struggling. A deep scratch, at least six inches long, ran across the door. 

One of the taller crooks slaps the lock picker on the back of the head. “Dumbass! The Big Man said no scratches! That’s coming out of our cut!” 

“Ow! Alright, alright! We’ll take it to John’s first and buff it out. Now quit having your panties in a twist and let me work!” As the man continues fumbling with the screwdriver, looking like he’s about to scratch the car again. Another thug, thick local accent and all, shoves in to take over. 

“Move over. You’ve got the hand-eye coordination of my nearly blind nan.” 

“Hey, I’m the lock picker here, buddy!” 

“Then stop sucking at it and let me-” 

“Back off asshole!” 

“Will you idiots shut up? Someone might-” 

“-Hear you?” a voice cuts in, cool and calm. 

The four crooks freeze, spinning around. Peter’s feet flat on a nearby wall with his arms crossed casually. He smirks behind the mask. While it was kind of fun for Peter, watching these guys fumble around, eventually he had to step in. 

“You guys are killing me,” Peter said, his feet still sticking to the side of the building. “Seriously, this is like watching the Three Stooges.” 

“Hey! Stay the hell outta this, kid!” one of the thugs yelled, waving his crowbar. 

“Yeah, who even you supposed to be?” the taller one growled. 

Peter flipped off the wall and landed effortlessly in front of them, striking a superhero landing with a flair. Rising up, hands on his hips, Chest out. 

“I’m... uh...” He paused, realizing how uncool this next part sounded. He rubbed the back of his neck, his stance deflating. “... still working on that. Thinking something like ‘Arachnid Dude’ or ‘Human Spider.’ Thoughts?” 

“I don’t care if you’re All Might! Scram kid!” one holding a crowbar snapped. 

Peter sighed. “If I had a nickel every time someone told that-” 

Suddenly, one of the thugs rushed him with a loose brick in hand. Peter sidestepped as he grabbed the thug’s wrist and flipped him overhead with ease. The thug slammed into a pile of trash bags behind them, groaning. 

“-I could buy a sub at the local deli!” Peter finished. “Maybe even some soda.” 

The other thugs stared, caught off guard. The tall one growled and stepped forward, rage twisting his face. With a metallic shink, a jagged spike extended from his palm like a switchblade. 

“That’s it! I’m gonna carve you up, you cocky little bastard!” 

Peter stares at the blade. “Wow, heck of toothpick you got there.” 

Suddenly, a familiar buzz tickled the back of his head. Without thinking, he ducked just in time as the metal spike shot past him, embedding itself in the brick wall behind him with a heavy TINK. 

“Hey! Watch it! Someone could lose an eye!” 

“Get him!!” The other two thugs rushed in. The one with the crowbar swung wildly. 

Peter caught the bar mid-swing and yanked it down, pulling the thug off-balance. With his free leg, he spun and kicked the second thug coming towards him in the gut, sending the criminal stumbling back, crashing against the car they were trying to steal. 

Peter holds the crowbar with an iron grip, feeling the tool shake in his hand as the thug tries to free it. “After this is over, I’ll almost feel bad kicking your touchish’.” 

Peter still gripping on the crowbar, he swung it and sent the clinging thug away with a satisfying THUD! But he didn’t have time to breathe. The man with the metal spike quirk was already coming at him, spikes now protruding from both palms, glinting in the dim alley light like machetes. 

“Okay, that’s a whole lotta nope!” Peter yelled, ducking and weaving as the thug jabbed wildly. 

Spikes shot past his head, slicing through the air inches away. His heart pounded in his ears, but Peter kept moving, somehow always just barely out of reach. Something in his brain, that sixth sense he didn’t fully understand yet, kept nudging him. 

Still, he wasn’t perfect. 

“Agh!” Peter cried out as one spike nicked his side, leaving a burning sting, followed by another, grazing his forearm. The pain lit up his nerves like a live wire. 

“Watch the threads!” He snapped, lunging in and landing a right hook to the thug’s ribs. 

The spike-wielder stumbled back, wheezing. He raised his hand again, aiming for another shot. Peter twisted away just in time; the spike missing his head by inches. 

Thinking fast, Peter grabbed the lid of a nearby trash can and yanked it off, wielding it like a shield. 

“Let’s see how Captain Queens does it!” He quipped, using the lid to deflect the side of the next spike with a metallic ping. The thug growled as another spike beginning to form from his palm. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. ‘There’s a delay…a  two-second cooldown between shots!’ 

With a burst of speed, Peter rushed forward, blocking another spike with the trash can lid. Spotting an opening as the guy reloaded, Peter wound his arm back. 

“Hey! Fetch!” 

He flung the lid like a frisbee. It sailed through the air and smacked the thug right in the forehead with a loud BONK! The man dropped like a sack of bricks. 

“Fido could catch better than you, pal!” Peter said with a smirk, brushing off his hands. 

But before he could savor the win, he heard a loud shuffle-clatter from behind. Peter spun around to see the thug he’d thrown into the trash earlier rising from the garbage pile like some kind of swamp monster. 

“Looks like Oscar the Grouch is joining in.” Peter quipped. 

The thug’s hands began glowing with a sickly green aura. 

‘Uh-oh, Quirk activation…’ Peter immediately dropped into a fighting stance. 

The air around the thug shimmered and suddenly, trash began to float. Banana peels, stained newspapers, soda cans, old takeout everything in a five-foot radius started circling him like the world’s grossest tornado. 

A beat passed, and Peter lets out a strained laugh “Hahaha! Lemme guess your villain name is The Trashman, right?” He said, emphasizing the name in a stereotypical New York accent. 

Then it hit him. 

“Wait... trash. NOT THE UNIFORM!” 

Peter dove just in time as the thug hurled the floating garbage straight at him. The trash barrage ended up splattering all over the spike-quirk user, who was just starting to get up. 

“Ew! What the hell, dude?!” the man shouted, now covered in questionable sludge. 

Before Peter could mock him he starts to feel a sharp buzz from his head. He caught a punch coming at his face but didn’t notice the second thug swinging in from behind with a THUD! 

“GAH!” A dull pain exploded across Peter’s back, falling to the concrete on his knees. He groaned, as he turned just in time to see the thug with the crowbar standing over him. 

Then came the second hit. And a third. 

“Jump him!” one of them shouted. Suddenly, Peter was overwhelmed, blows rain down from all sides, steel-toed boots and fists slamming into his ribs. He curled up instinctively, trying to shield his head. 

Peter’s senses exploded as he caught sight of the shadow looming overhead, the spike guy aims his palm straight at Peter’s head. 

“Hey… how about using a dartboard instead of my face?” Peter wheezed out. 

The thug growled “How about I pin that annoying mouth of yours shut for good! You wannabe hero!” 

Pulling through the pain, Peter swung his leg out, catching Spike Guy off guard and sending him stumbling backwards. The spike, instead of hitting Peter, whistled past and embedded itself into the foot of the trash-quirk thug. The guy yelled in pain, clutching his foot. 

“AHHHHHGGG!!” 

“Something did get pinned, that’s for sure.” Peter quipped, pushing himself up. He spun around and shoved his fists into the two thugs on their sides, knocking them apart with a loud thud. Then, he threw a punch, landing a solid right hook on one thug’s face. The guy went flying, crashing into the wall, knocked out. 

Peter turned to the disoriented thug he’d also hit in the gut. Raising both fists overhead, he brought them crashing down onto the thug’s head. With a WHAM the guy was out cold too. 

“Two down, two to go,” Peter muttered. But just as he spoke, the trash thug managed to rip the spike free and lunges at him. Before he could strike, Peter backhanded his face without even turning. 

“Three down.”  

He swiveled around to spot the last guy, the spike-quirk user charging forward, roaring like a maniac. Peter’s eyes flicked downward and locked onto a loose metal trash lid on the ground. 

“Alright, buddy, you’re about to get a crash course in ‘trash talk’!” Peter yelled out. Before the criminal could react, Peter kicked the lid up with a flick of his foot, sending it spinning into his hands. Peter, Captain America style, slammed the metal lid into the villain’s face with a satisfying CLANG! 

The knocked-out thug collapses on the ground with a thud. The sound of the alley is now quiet with only the sounds of Peter’s heavy breathing. 

With a sigh of relief, Peter drops the lid. “And that’s all, folks.” 

Just as Peter was about to catch his breath, a blare of sirens cuts through the air, followed by the screech of tires. He looked behind him instinctively. A police patrol car had skidded to a halt at the end of the alley. Two officers jumped out with their weapons drawn. 

One of them froze, eyes narrowing. “Hey! It’s a vigilante!” 

“Hands in the air! Now!” the other barked, raising his pistol alongside his partner. 

Peter stiffened but quickly raised his hands; fingers spread. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there! Can’t a guy loiter in an inconspicuous alley in peace?” 

The officers advanced cautiously. “Don’t play dumb!” One snapped. “This little vigilante game of yours? It ends today.” 

The cop on the left leaned toward his partner, squinting at Peter. “Hey, isn’t this that Moon Lunatic?” 

“No, that guy’s all white. This new one popped up just a few weeks ago,” the other muttered. 

Peter tilted his head. “Wow. Can’t even tell the difference between us anymore? Kinda insensitive don’t you think?” 

“Shut it, punk!” The cop on the right growled, motioning with his gun. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t belong out here playing hero.” 

“Morons like you just get in the way!” The other added. “Too lazy to crack open a book and learn the real way.” 

Peter squinted. “Lazy? Dude, I walk two miles to the subway every morning.” 

“I said shut up!” one of them snapped. He holstered his weapon and pulled out a pair of cuffs. “Last warning. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

Peter crouched slightly, then backflipped onto the brick wall behind him, sticking there like a shadow. “Look, I appreciate accessories as much as the next guy,” he said, pointing to the handcuffs, “but those really don’t match the outfit.” 

“Hey-!” one cop shouted, stepping forward. 

“Toodles!” Peter called cheerfully, flipping up and launching himself onto the rooftops. 

... 

He sprinted across the roofs, leaping from one building to the next with practiced speed. The wind rushed past his covered ears as he didn’t look back. Eight minutes later, he finally stopped, crouching behind a water tower. His chest heaved as he checked the area. Peter let out a heavy sigh and slid down the side of a metal beam, finally peeling off his mask. Cool air hit his face, and he savored the relief of breathing freely again. 

‘Jeez… this never gets easier.’ 

His fingers gently traced over a cut on his arm, then the one at his side. ‘For a second there, I thought I was gonna screw up.’ 

He leaned his head back against the metal wall, eyes closed, thoughts racing. 

‘Can I really keep doing this? I barely got out of that mess with my skin intact. If that was just a couple of street thugs… what happens when it’s someone worse? Trashman today, Abomination tomorrow? I’m way over my head.’ 

Peter exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. His doubts clawed at the edges of his mind. But then, a voice from memory stirred. 

“But I made a promise.” He opened his eyes to see the sky was turning orange, the sun dipping low behind the skyline. He stood up, slowly but with purpose, silhouetted against the burning horizon. 

“If my path is going to be harder than most… then so be it.” 

“I will be a hero.” 

Hours later... 

With evening settling in, Peter decided it was time to clock out for the night. He ducked into a grimy alleyway after grabbing his bag. He crouches low between a dumpster and a brick wall, making sure no one was around before changing back. 

He held up a jagged shard of broken glass, using it as a mirror. The reflection staring back at him, looking more tired than heroic. He holds the shard steady on his left hand, trying not to slice his palm on the sharp edge. In the other hand, he awkwardly dabbed at his cheek using a cheap makeup brush, blending foundation over a bruise. 

His usual excuse, claiming he’d “fallen” whenever Aunt May noticed his injuries, could only work so many times before it started sounding suspicious. Eventually, he’d accepted that a few dollars spent on cheap make-up was a small price to pay for a peace of mind. 

“I seriously don’t know how girls do this every day,” Peter muttered under his breath. “Never thought I’d end up watching this many makeup tutorials.” 

After a few more careful strokes, he leaned back and squinted at his reflection. Declaring it good enough, Peter tossed the glass aside and took off towards home, determined to beat his curfew. 

Luckily, he was only a few blocks away. He jogged through the familiar streets of Queens; the neighborhood quiet with distant traffic. 

Feeling relieved to be ahead of schedule, Peter stepped into the elevator of his small but cozy apartment building. The doors slid shut with a dull clank, and he caught one last glimpse of himself reflected in the scratched metal walls. Double-checking that the bruise was still hidden before the elevator chimed and came to a stop. 

After unlocking the front door to his apartment, Peter paused, taking a breath while putting on a lighter, more casual mood before heading inside. 

“May! I’m home!” He called out. 

He glanced around the apartment, taking in the familiar space. Some people might tease him for living in what they’d call a “grandma house” but he didn’t mind. It felt warm and safe. Still, the atmosphere wasn’t quite the same anymore, not without his uncle. The thought endured for only a moment before a gentle voice pulled him back. May Parker perks up from under the counter wearing an apron and a headscarf holding back her frail dark but greying hair. 

“Oh! Welcome back, Peter.” Aunt May said sauntering towards the young man, wrapping him in a brief, comforting hug. 

“Sorry I didn’t hear you earlier,” she added as she pulled away. “I’ve been cooking up a storm for dinner. How was school?” 

“Hm? Oh yeah, it was fine,” Peter replied, setting his backpack down on the worn, floral-patterned couch. 

“Well, go on and get settled, dear,” May said warmly. “Dinner’s almost ready.” 

... 

The Parker household was quiet in that comfortable lived-in way, filled with the savory smell of Aunt May’s world-famous meatloaf. 

Peter sat across from her, half-listening as she talked about her day. While he nodded at the right moments, most of his attention drifted past her shoulder at the television in the living room. 

New York’s most recognizable news networks: The Daily Bugle comes on the screen, its bold letters filling it. A news anchor sits up straight on the tv, his orange, scaly skin caught the studio lights as he glanced down at his notes. 

“In other news,” the anchor continued, “public concern is rising over the recent surge of vigilantism across New York. From the brutal methods of The Punisher to the elusive Moon Knight, and now reports of a young teen operating in red.” 

His fork hovered midair, his ears tuning out everything except the television. 

“The public and the professional hero community remain sharply divided,” the anchor went on. “Some argue these vigilantes are a necessary response to injustices that slip through the cracks. Others warn their actions are dangerously reckless and undermine legitimate hero work.” 

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought grimly. ‘Heard that one before.’ 

“And to discuss the issue,” the anchor said, “we’re joined by veteran of the industry and editor-in-chief of The Daily Bugle: J. Jonah Jameson.” 

The screen transitions to a different studio set, dominated by a massive LED backdrop. Two men sat in stiff chairs. One was a clean-cut reporter with a practiced smile. The other sat the mentioned man. 

Jameson sat like if a brick wall was given human form. He was stocky, broad-shouldered, radiating stubborn authority. A thick cigar clenched between his teeth, sending curls of smoke into the air. His graying hair was slicked back, and a well-groomed mustache framed a perpetual scowl. Suspenders stretched over a rolled-up button-down shirt, like he’d stepped straight out of a newsroom from another era. 

From what Peter knew, Jameson was a legend in journalism, respected yet controversial. A relentless critic of heroes whenever they made a mistake, never hesitating to call out powerful figures. Some praised him for keeping ego-driven heroes honest. While others thought he was just an overbearing, loudmouthed jerk. 

Either way, when Jameson talked, people listened. 

“So, Mr. Jameson,” the reporter said, shifting in his seat, “what’s your take on the current vigilante situation?” 

Jameson leaned back slightly, unimpressed. A grimace tugged at his face before he let out a sharp huff, punctuated by a cloud of smoke. 

“What’s there to discuss, Jim?” He said simply before he scowled and barked. “They’re menaces!” 

The reporter blinked, but Jameson was already warming up. 

“A bunch of wannabes who think they can take the law into their own hands!” He snapped. “The lunatic with the skull emblem just killed ten people yesterday! Ten! That’s not justice, that’s murder!” 

He jabbed a finger toward the camera. 

“They’re not judge, jury, and executioner. And now?” He scoffed. “We’ve got kids running around, acting like they’re the next All Might!” 

Peter’s stomach tightened. 

“They’re inexperienced, reckless, and one bad decision away from getting someone killed,” Jameson continued. “They might as well be waving bombs around with how irresponsibly they handle their quirks!” 

Peter swallowed hard, the weight of Jameson’s words pressing down on him. The reporter adjusted his glasses. “Those are strong opinions, Mr. Jameson. But some outspoken citizens say these vigilantes stop crimes that pro heroes overlook. What would you say to them?” 

Jameson didn’t hesitate. “I’d say they’re dangerously misinformed! Nearly sixty percent of criminals caught by vigilantes never see formal charges. Sixty percent! Sloppy evidence, no due process, cases falling apart in court. These so-called ‘heroes’ swoop in, throw a punch, tie someone up with a bow, and vanish. Then what? Those same criminals are right back on the streets!” 

The reporter tried again. “Some would argue they inspire others to-” 

“They inspire copycats!” Jameson barked. “Especially that red one who just showed up. Jumping around like gravity is a suggestion! What happens when some kid tries that and doesn’t stick the landing? These vigilantes have no licenses, no oversight, no accountability!” 

‘Or the money to even earn those things,’ Peter thought bitterly. He thinks back to his brawl in the alley. The guy with the metal spikes along with trashman and the other goons, what if they got cut loose because Peter hadn’t done things “the right way”? 

Sure, he stopped a mugging. Helped a guy who slipped near a bridge. Little stuff. But what about a real disaster? 

He didn’t know first aid. Didn’t know evacuation protocol. He even didn’t know how to move an injured person without making it worse. 

‘What if I just get in the way someday… and someone pays for it?’  

“-and speaking of unlicensed activity,” the reporter continued, “what about the four explorers recently recovered from the Negative Zone lost in time who are being fast-tracked for hero licenses despite most of their age?” 

But before Peter could hear another colorful opinion from the man, a voice snaps him out. 

“Peter?” 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

Aunt May was looking at him gently. “I said, are you listening?” 

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Zoned out. What’d you say?” 

“I was asking about Harry and Gwen. I realized you haven’t mentioned them much lately. You all still spending time together?” 

Peter shrugged, poking at his food again. “Yeah. Everyone is just... busy, I guess. Harry’s looking into hero schools after this year is over and Gwen’s talking about some big science internship.” 

May smiled. “That sounds like her. Such a bright girl.” 

“Yeah,” Peter said softly. “She’s really smart and-“ 

“Pretty?” May added, eyes twinkling. 

Peter nearly choked. “I was gonna say cool.” 

May laughed under her breath. “Mhmm. Of course you were.” 

Peter felt his face warm before he cleared his throat. “I don’t think she sees me like that anyway.” 

“Oh, Peter,” May said fondly. “You always assume you’re standing outside the window when you’re already in the room.” 

He gave her a skeptical look. “That... doesn’t make much sense.” 

She waved her hand. “Point is, I was in the same position when I was her age. Boys would talk to me, ask me out… but I never really felt anything. Not until your Uncle Ben.” 

Peter’s expression softened at the mentioned of his father figure.

“He wasn’t the smoothest, was kind of a knucklehead if I’m being honest.” May went on with a nostalgic chuckle. “Sweet as pie, brave when it mattered but socially? Oh, he was hopeless. I had to practically spell it out for him before he got the courage to ask me out.” 

Peter smiled faintly. “Sounds about right.” 

“And I kept thinking I had all the time in the world with him,” she said, voice gentler now. “To travel. To try new things. To grow old together...” The room grew quieter, filled only with the low hum of the ceiling fan and Jameson’s distant rant from the TV. 

“Oh, Ben…” May whispered. 

Peter reached across the table and took her hand. “Yeah. I miss him too.” 

She squeezed his fingers, and sighed. Yearning for the years that have gone by. May gazed into Peter’s eyes. 

“That’s why I don’t want you to hold yourself back,” she said softly. “From friends. From love. Whatever it is you feel a calling for.” Her eyes searched his. “Ben believed you were meant for something meaningful, Peter. Not just small.” 

Peter swallowed. 

“Ever since Ben passed you’ve... had this cloud over your head not just of grief but confusion.” May said with concern. Peter’s head perks up hearing this, but it did not end up surprising him that she knows something is up. A moment passed while Peter took in her observation before speaking again. 

“I’ve been...l ost, not knowing what to do and I just… don’t want to mess up,” he admitted quietly. “What if things don’t work out?” 

May smile, not dismissive, not naive. She understood. 

“Then you learn,” she said. “And you’ll do better next time." Behind them, Jameson’s voice rose again from the TV. But for the first time all evening, Peter wasn’t listening. 

“I’m sure whatever you’ll do, scientist or not, you’re going to do some amazing things Peter.”  May said with her warm parental voice. Peter’s hand tightens around his aunt’s. 

“Thank you, I’ll... I’ll be sure to make Uncle Ben proud.” 

The Next Day After School 

Peter felt…lighter. Not magically cured of doubt, but he felt secure. Like the talk with May had tightened a few loose screws inside his chest. School didn’t feel unbearable for once. Even Flash mostly left him alone, though he did throw Peter the occasional stink eye in the hallway to which Peter swiftly returned the jester. 

Even with the uncertainty still hanging over him, one thing felt clear: Whatever path he chose… he wanted to be a hero. His kind of hero.  

Peter then spotted Harry and Gwen near the front gates, already mid-conversation, as usual in their daily meetup ritual. “Why does he have to be so pushy?” Gwen huffed. “Have you told him this isn’t what you want?” 

“I have, Gwen,” Harry groaned. “You know how he is. ‘No’ just means ‘convince me harder.’” 

Peter’s sneakers scraped lightly against the pavement as he approached. “Yo, what’d I miss?” 

Gwen blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Harry’s dad wants him to go to a hero school in Europe.” 

Peter blinked. “Europe? Why that far? Can’t you just go to Xavier’s? You have the money for that.” 

“That’s what I said,” Harry muttered. “But apparently Xavier’s is, and I quote, ‘a gathering of self-righteous intellectual peacocks.’” The redhead quoted in a deeper voice. 

Peter snorted. “Wow. That’s… aggressively specific.” 

“He refuses to explain it,” Harry continued, frustration bleeding into his voice. “Just keeps saying it’s ‘not the right environment for an Osborn.’ Like I’m a piece of furniture.” 

Peter heard of the complicated relationship between Harry and Norman for years. When Mrs. Osborn passed, it strained it even further. Norman wasn’t exactly cruel to Peter’s knowledge, just distant. Always working, always deciding, and rarely listening. He had missed concerts, games, school events… all the stuff parents were supposed to show up for. 

“I just don’t wanna leave you guys,” Harry said, quieter now. “And no offense, but my life sounds insanely boring surrounded by a bunch of bougie guys with accents judging my posture.” 

Peter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Man, I’m sorry. I wish there was-” 

“Please don’t say ‘something we could do,’ I’ve heard the whole song and dance from you before. Just don’t bother.” Harry cut in, sharper than he meant to. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just… don’t wanna think about it right now.” 

Gwen bumped her shoulder against his. “Then don’t. It’s Friday, future problems can wait.” 

She turned suddenly to Peter, eyes lighting up. “Speaking of which, you promised you’d hang out with us today.” 

Peter stiffened. 

‘Crap! I forgot about that!’ 

“I… uh… don’t-” He scratched his head, buying time. 

Harry and Gwen’s hopeful expressions slowly sank. Harry looked away, his brow lowering just a bit, and Peter felt a guilty ache in his chest. Then May’s voice echoed in his mind. “That’s why I don’t want you to hold yourself back, from friends. from love.” 

‘Is it really going to hurt to take one afternoon off? No. No, it won’t.’ 

“...know if I’m heading straight home today,” Peter finished, a grin spreading across his face. “So, do you know what that means?” 

Gwen gasped and launched forward, hugging him before she seemed to realize what she was doing. She jumped back just as fast, cheeks pink. “I-I mean good! I’m glad you’re finally coming.” 

Harry laughed, clapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Dude, don’t build up suspense like that.” 

Peter smirked. “What? I like to keep people guessing.” 

“Enough talking,” Gwen declared. “Coffee Bean?”  

Peter and Harry exchanged a look at the mention of their favorite hangout spot/café. “You already know the answer.” Harry said with his usual confident demeanor. 

“Yay!” Gwen sang, already walking. Peter hung back just long enough to pull out his phone and text May. 

Peter: Hanging with Harry and Gwen after school. Be home later! 

May: Have fun! Don’t forget dinner exists. 

Peter: Alright, I’ll see you this evening! I love you. 

He smiled, slipping his phone back into his pocket before jogging to catch up. This time, even if it were for a little bit, Peter Parker wasn’t worrying about crooks, police, or whether he was enough. He was just a kid, hanging out with his friends and that felt pretty good. 

... 

The chime above the café door jingled as the trio stepped inside, greeted by the warm scent of coffee and sugar. They grabbed their usual spot at the booth by the glass window, a good view of the bustling city streets.  

A dark-haired waitress with multiple ear piercings and a bored expression approached notepad ready. “Afternoon. What can I get you?” 

“Coffee, with caramel creamer please.” Peter said. 

“Ooo, I’ll try... the banana milkshake,” Gwen added, leaning forward while looking at the menu. 

“Water,” Harry said flatly. 

Peter and Gwen turned to him in unison. 

“What?” Harry raised his hands. “I like the simple things. You want me to put lemon in it too? Maybe a little umbrella?” 

Gwen snorted. “Live a little, Osborn.” 

“Well to be fair, hydration is living.” Peter added. 

The waitress scribbled, nodded, and walked off. 

Gwen rested her chin on her hand as she looked at Peter. “So… been wondering since my chat with Harry. What you thinking for high school?” 

Peter hesitated and clicked his tongue. “… uh… honestly? I’m not really… sure.” 

Harry blinked and leaned back comfortably in his seat. “Not sure? Dude, you’ve been wanting to be like Doc Brown since we were nine.” 

“Huh, you’ve always seemed like you had a plan. What changed?” Gwen asked 

He knows exactly why that changed; the teen in his mind is trying to figure out how to be honest but not let any info of his double life slip out. The waitress returned with their drinks, and Peter mumbled a distracted thanks as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. 

“Peter?” Gwen prompted gently. 

“Huh? Oh sorry.” He took a sip, buying time. “I’ve just been thinking about… where I fit, I guess. In the world.” Harry and Gwen exchanged a look. 

“I still love doing science,” Peter continued, eyes on his coffee. “But I keep wondering if there’s something more… direct I could do. Something where I’m actually out there helping people. Not just behind a desk.” 

Gwen’s expression softened. “Peter, science does help people-” 

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “But I mean… me. Personally. Being there when someone needs help.” A small silence settled over the table. They understood what he was circling around, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. 

Harry sighed. “I’d suggest the obvious… if there wasn’t a glowing issue in the room.” 

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “No quirk.”  

‘Well about that.’ Peter thought at the same time. 

Gwen studied him. “That’s a huge shift, Peter. You’ve never talked like this before. Why now?” 

“I just-” 

“Oh my god, that is you!” 

All three looked up to see a familiar face:  

“Is that Liz?” Harry asked. 

The person in question stood a few tables away, smoothie in hand, bright smile in place. Liz Allen: Midtown’s unofficial queen bee.  

Peter knew Liz, note on just knowing and not friendly.  

A while back Peter had a crush on the platinum blond, however those feelings weren’t exactly returned back. Popularity doesn’t mean nice in Liz’s case and in typical mean girl fashion, she would often make fun of the nerdy boy. The situation made harder by the fact she was dating Flash Thompson. 

Peter would eventually lose feelings for her when Gwen convinced him that she wasn’t worth his time and now he has completely moved on, barley giving her a thought. However, strangely ever since Peter got bitten by the spider along with her breakup with Flash, she’s been nicer. Suspiciously, nicer. 

“Peter, hiiii!” Liz beamed as she walked over. “Hey, Harry… Gwen.” 

Gwen’s eyebrow rose at the noticeably flatter tone on her name. 

“I haven’t seen you here in, like, forever!” 

“It’s only been three weeks.” Peter said. 

“Same difference,” Liz waved it off, sliding into the seat beside Peter, which forced Harry to squish himself against the wall with a deeply offended look. Gwen tries her best to be friendly and tries to give Liz a polite smile that she seemingly ignored. 

“How’ve you been, Petey?” Liz asked, her voice softened. “I’m really sorry about your uncle.” 

Peter blinked at the nickname. “Uh… thanks. I’ve been okay. Getting by.” 

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a great listener,” she said, lightly touching his arm. 

Gwen did a light cough cutting through their conversation. “I think he’s pretty covered in the listening department. Right, Harry?” She said in a slightly cautious tone. 

“Mhmm!” Harry grunted out from the squishing. 

Liz ignored that entirely. “Offer still stands, Petey.” 

“Thanks, Liz,” Peter said, confused but polite. “I’ll… keep that in mind.” 

Her phone chimed loudly. She checked it and groaned. “Ugh, I would stay longer with y’all but my mom is being a mom.” 

She stood, then slid her untouched smoothie in front of Peter. “Here, you can have this. My treat. See you at school!” She gave a little finger wave and walked off. 

Peter stared at the smoothie. “I… what just happened?” 

“Territorial behavior,” Gwen said sweetly. 

She then called after Liz, “Careful not to trip on those heels!” 

Liz didn’t turn around, but one hand lifted in a vague wave. Peter looked between his friends. “Okay…” 

Gwen smiled innocently. “Drink your smoothie, Parker.” Peter slowly pushed Liz’s smoothie toward the center of the table. 

“Ehhh… I’m not really much of a smoothie guy.” 

Gwen’s shoulders, which had been weirdly stiff, loosened just a little. Harry noticed and gave her a sideways look but wisely said nothing. A beat passed before Harry raised his hand. “Hey, I’ll take it if anyone doesn’t want it.” 

Gwen scoffed as her friend leaned to get the drink. “What happened to ‘I like the simple things’?” 

“Free is simple,” Harry shot back, stabbing the straw in the smooth liquid. He took a long, dramatic sip.  

“Also,” he added, pointing the straw toward Gwen, “who really won here? The mean girl trying to bribe Dorkington for attention… or the guy who got a free drink?” 

Peter frowned. “My attention? You sure that’s what that was? She spent all of last year pretending I didn’t exist.” 

“Probably because of that sweater vest phase,” Harry said. 

Peter gasped. “Hey! Aunt May said I looked classy in that old fashion way!” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I mean. Pete, you’re not a bad-looking guy, but your wardrobe was fighting against you.” He chuckled out. 

“Doesn’t matter” Gwen added, shifting into a mock high-pitched voice, “she would’ve been all, ‘Oh Peteyyy~’ no matter what you wore.” 

“I mean who does even thinks she is? Treating Peter like crap and to then just switch up all of a sudden!” Gwen ranted out before leaning back in her seat; arms crossed. 

“Well people can change Gwen. I don’t know, maybe she lost that Flash jerk influence ever since they split. Plus, I’m sure she was just... being friendly in her own weird way.” Peter added. 

“I don’t buy it.” Gwen said sharply. 

“I sense jealousy~” Harry sang out quietly. 

“Shut up, Harry,” Gwen muttered, looking away, cheeks noticeably pink. 

Harry grinned and started awkwardly climbing over Peter to get out of the booth. “Welp, I gotta hit the restroom. Been holding it since fifth period.” 

“Would it kill you to say, ‘move please’?” Peter complained, scooting sideways. “Also, you couldn’t go at school?” 

“And use those stalls? Yeah, no thanks,” Harry grunted out. After he got over the brunette he lightly jogs towards the restroom leaving both Peter and Gwen alone sitting across from each other. A moment of awkwardness passes, after the case of jealously Gwen displayed. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey... Sorry about the Liz thing.” 

Gwen blinked. “No, it’s fine Pete. You got nothing to apologize for...”  

“You sure? You seemed upset.” the young man asked in concern. 

She sighed, slumping a little. “I was just... kinda being a bitch.” 

“Hey, don’t say that about yourself,” Peter said quickly. 

She looked up at him, surprised, then smiled softly. “Huh, no wonder Liz is gunning for you.” 

Peter squinted. “Is it because I ditched the sweater vest?” 

She laughed. “No, you dork. You just… make people feel safe. Heard. Like they matter.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes lingering on him. 

“You’ve changed, you know. Not that you couldn’t be nice before, but lately? You notice things. You help people even when you don’t have to. You stand up for yourself more.” 

Peter looked down at his cup. The young man thinks back to his previous years, before his harsh reality check. "I wasn’t great back then. I was angry… at the world, at being quirkless. I pushed people away. Honestly, I’m surprised Harry stuck around.” 

“Maybe he saw something worth sticking around for,” Gwen said gently. “I sure did.” Her voice had lost all teasing now. 

“Do you feel like you owe the world something?” She asked. “Is that what this is?” 

Peter glanced out the window at the city moving past. “…Something like that.” He looked back at her, eyes steadier than she’d ever seen them. 

“My uncle used to say, if I had the ability to do great things, then I’m obligated to do them. I thought it just meant… don’t mess up, stay in school, be smart.” He shook his head. “But I think I know what it means now...” Gwen listened without interrupting. 

“I want to help people,” Peter said quietly. “Be there when it matters. Be a hero.” 

Gwen takes a moment to take in his words. “Peter… that’s amazing and all,” she said. “But you don’t have to throw away your life dreams for that.” 

“This is my dream now,” he said, voice firm but calm. “Honestly.” 

She studied his face, searching for doubts and didn’t find it. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Peter Parker The Hero… yeah. I like the sound of that.” 

He blinked. “Really? No ‘you need a quirk’ talk?” Gwen reached across the table and took his hand. His fingers were cold; hers were warm. 

“I don’t really believe in that. My dad says heroes aren’t born from quirks,” she said softly. “They’re built by choices. The cops he works with? Firefighters? Regular people who run toward danger? He calls them heroes just as much as the labeled ones.” 

Her thumb squeezed his hand. “Whatever you choose to do, Peter… you’re going to do so many great things, you can be a hero...” 

“Gwen, I...” Peter stared at her, throat tight. 

“...Thank you.” He finished, squeezing her hand back. 

He took a breath. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, I-” 

The world has shifted. A sharp, electric tingle crawled up the back of his head, feeling his hair stand up. Peter's words died in his throat as he felt his senses dialed into overdrive. He scans the restaurant for anything wrong but only sees the lighthearted atmosphere. Before Gwen could ask if something was up, the teen slowly turns his head towards the window. And through it, he saw a car was airborne then time snapped back to full speed. 

Peter shot out of his seat, yanking Gwen down with him. The car tore through the window above their booth with a violent CRASH, into the café behind them as screams filled the air. 

Peter hit the floor hard, twisting mid-fall, so his body covered Gwen’s. Glass rained down in glittering shards, skittering across tile and table tops. She screamed beneath him, hands clamped over her head as his arms locked around her shoulders. 

The shriek of tearing metal finally died, replaced by car alarms, distant shouting, and the thin ringing in Peter’s ears. He lifted his head and Gwen’s breathing came in sharp, panicked bursts against his chest. 

“Gwen... hey, hey, look at me,” he said, voice shaking. “You okay?” 

Her eyes were wide and unfocused. “I-I-yeah, I think so.” 

“That’s good. That’s good.” He helped her stand up, keeping one arm around her until she steadied. 

They rose carefully, shoes crunching over broken glass. The café looked like a war zone with the tables overturned. The front window was completely gone with the car lodged halfway through the seating area 

Peter searched fast and he got some relief seeing nobody got crushed by the vehicle. The brunette vaulted the counter and helped the pierced waitress to her feet. “Easy, you’re okay.” 

He moved from person to person, adrenaline sharpening his focus, trying his best to tend to them. Gwen, pale but upright, helped an older man out from under a chair when a voice screamed out. 

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!” 

Harry stumbled out from the hallway near the bathrooms, a string of toilet paper still trailing from his shoe. He froze at the sight of the wreckage. “Is that a CAR?! Are you guys okay?!” 

He grabbed Peter and Gwen’s shoulders like he needed physical proof they were real. 

“We’re fine,” Peter said quickly, grabbing onto Harry’s forearm. “But we gotta get out here!” Harry nodded, snapping into motion, and rushed to shove the café door open wide for people pouring out. The three of them spilled onto the sidewalk with the hysterical crowd. 

Peter’s senses then blared, and he stopped briefly to look behind. That’s when he saw him. 

Across the street stood a large bald man with some kind of stone covering his shirtless body. A wrecking ball hung from a thick chain wrapped around his forearm. In his other hand was a duffel bag sagging with stolen weight. He swung the wrecking ball as if it were light as a towel and smashed it into a police cruiser. 

Metal folded like paper. Peter’s stomach dropped. ‘That’s not a purse snatcher. That’s not a bike thief. That’s a real villain! I can’t fight that. I shouldn’t fight that!’ The young man tries to regain his composure, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need to step in.  

‘There are pros for this. People that can handle this better than I could.’ 

Before the teen could hot foot out of there, Peter’s hearing focuses on a police officer crouched behind his car across the street, shouting into his radio. 

“We need backup NOW! Villain attack in Midtown, a heavy hitter! We need a hero on scene immediately!” 

Static crackled back. The officer’s face twisted. “What do you mean ten minutes?! We don’t HAVE ten minutes! There are civilians everywhere!” 

Time slowed again. Peter’s gaze drifted over the street, to the trapped drivers, the shattered storefronts, the people frozen in shock. 

‘Ten minutes... people could die in ten minutes.’ 

Fear clawed up his spine. 

‘I am way out of my league. I’ve fought muggers. Petty crooks. Not… this.’ 

Jameson’s voice echoed in his head. Untrained. Unlicensed. In the way. Peter’s hands trembled. 

‘But if nobody does anything…’ 

The wrecking ball swung again. Peter clenched his fists before groaning “…Ah, screw it.” 

He turned and sprinted for the nearest alley. Behind him laid his concerned friend. “Harry, wait! Where’s Peter?!” Gwen spun in a circle, panic flashing across her face. 

Harry looked behind them. “I thought he was with you!” 

Gwen’s heart lurched. “I have to find him!” 

“Gwen, WAIT-!” The crowd surged, shoving Harry back as Gwen pushed against the flow, disappearing between strangers. 

“GWEN!” His voice was swallowed by sirens and screaming. Gwen ducked between people, scanning frantically.  

‘Peter, where are you?’ 

She passed the mouth of an alley just as Peter was hidden in its shadow. He yanks off his backpack with shaking hands. Fingers fumbling as he dragged out the red and black fabric. 

‘What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing-’ 

His heart beaten so hard it hurt. But out on the street, another crash shook the air. Peter squeezed his eyes shut for half a second. Then he started suiting up. 

...  

Gwen shoved through the fleeing crowd, heart hammering, eyes darting over every head she passed. She searches desperately for her missing friend ‘Where’d you go Pete?’ 

However, Gwen stops in her tracks, noticing that she was too close towards the scene. Before she could run back, a panicked bystander slammed into her shoulder. She stumbled, lost her footing, and fell on the ground. Before she could push herself up, she hears the cry of an officer. 

“WATCH OUT! INCOMING!” 

She looked up as a police cruiser was airborne, and heading her way. It spun violently, glass flying around, growing bigger by the second. 

Her heart sank to her deepest pit, and Gwen threw her arms over her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the end. Metal screamed in her ears but suddenly the noise stopped and the violent impact never came, only hearing a strained grunt over her. Gwen cracked one eye open. 

A figure stood over her, lean, dressed in a red-and-black hoodie with a mask pulled tight over his face. Yellow lenses stared back at her, wide and focused. His arms were locked above his head; hands braced against the undercarriage of the police car. His muscles trembled under the weight. 

“Y-You okay, ma’am?” He asked, voice lower pitched like he was forcing it. Gwen just stared, stunned. 

The masked teen’s knees wobbled. “You, uh you wouldn’t mind moving? Kinda heavy!” That snapped her out of it. 

“R-Right! Sorry!” She scrambled backward on hands and feet, then staggered upright and bolted clear. The moment she was out of the way, the masked figure twisted and heaved. The cruiser slammed onto its side beside him with a thunderous crash that rattled the ground. 

He was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling; light shimmered off the red fabric of his mask. “T-Thank you,” she said softly, still shaken. 

He gave a small nod. “Yeah… no problem.” She offered a quick, grateful smile before turning and running toward safety. Peter watched her go, chest heaving inside the mask. Then he spun around, viewing the feat he pulled off. 

‘Holy crap! I just lifted a car! Not only that but freaking catching it?!’ Peter takes a brief look at his gloved hands. ‘Guess there’s more to this spider quirk than I thought.’ Another crash shakes himself out of his astonishment and goes to approach the villain. 

‘Right, the big elephant in the room...’ 

The stone-skinned brute stood in the middle of the road, his wrecking ball dragging on the asphalt. 

“COME ON, YOU PIGS!” The villain roared. “You want another shot at me?! Let me walk, or I’ll make sure the next car will flatten someone like a pancake!” 

“Uh… yoo-hoo?” The teen said in the middle of the street, giving a small wave. The huge man turned, stomping his way towards Peter. 

‘Okay, you don’t need to fight him, Parker. Just stall until someone shows up.’ 

Peter felt his googles fog up, his breathing accelerating with every heavy step the villain took. "What is this? Is the NYPD sending babies to fight now?” The large man spat at Peter. 

‘Now seeing him up close, maybe this was a bad idea.’ Peter swallowed, having second guesses. Despite the villain’s intimidating 6’6 stature compared to Peter’s slim 5’10 figure, he stood on his ground. 

“Well,” Peter said, forcing steadiness into his voice, “this baby would really appreciate it if you, y’know… stopped?” 

‘Wow. Terrifying.’ 

He pointed at the wrecking ball. “So maybe we put down the rock-on-a-rope and talk about our feelings, Mr… uh…” 

The brute sneered. “Absorbing Man.” 

Peter tilted his head and snorted a little. “Absorbing Man? Wow. Really workshop that one, did you, Pebbles?” 

The villain’s eyes flared and he slammed the concrete ball into the ground a few feet from Peter. “You got a death wish, kid?” 

The teen flinched at this threat “Hey! I’m just saying, you’re way better at throwing cars than names apparently.” Peter gestured at the wreckage. “Which by the way, why the temper tantrum? Bad day?” 

“You can say that.” Absorbing Man growled, shaking the heavy duffel bag in Peter’s face. It clinked with stolen valuables. “Had a perfect heist lined up. Crew panicked and bailed. Left me to deal with this mess alone.” 

His rocky skin seemed to grind as his fists tightened, dropping his bag of loot on the ground. “But I’m not walking away empty-handed. And I am definitely not letting some scrawny wannabe hero stop me!” 

Peter raised his hands slightly, backing up half a step. 

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second... stalling, stalling, stalling-” 

“What was that?” the villain snapped. 

“Nothing! Just thinking out loud about how you should maybe surrender before this gets embarrassing for you.” 

“Embarrassing?” Absorbing Man barked out a harsh laugh. “Kid, you’ve seen what you’re wearing?” 

Peter looked down at himself. “This is a budget-friendly hero uniform, okay? Some of us don’t have the luxury buddy!” 

He pinched his fingers together like he was negotiating. “Which actually brings me to a great topic: financial planning! You seem stressed about money, I get that.” 

His head kept turning, scanning anywhere a pro hero might swoop in. ‘C’mon, c’mon, where are they!? There’s only a few conversation topics I could pump out to a murderous brick wall!’ Peter thinks desperately to himself. 

“So, my advice is-” Before Peter could go on his improvised routine, he is interrupted by the loud crunch of concrete. Absorbing Man rips out a stop sign out of the sidewalk like it was a weed. He gripped the metal pole and his rocky skin rippled, texture shifting, color changing. Gray stone smoothed into cold, reflective steel that spread across his entire body. Peter’s stomach dropped. 

“... To be honest I liked the rock look better.” 

“You should stop talking,” the villain said flatly. 

He jerks his arm, the wrecking ball on the ground tears through the pavement toward Peter. The young vigilante flipped backwards, the heavy sphere blasting past where his head had been a second earlier. He landed with a crouch, sneakers skidding. 

“Okay! There goes Plan A, now time for my foolish Plan B.” Peter muttered to himself. 

The wrecking ball whipped back again. Peter dove, he rolled under the chain and popped up inside the villain’s reach. 

‘You’ve bent metal before Parker... how hard can this be?’ 

He wound up and drove a punch straight into Absorbing Man’s steel abdomen. That’s when a loud CLANK rang out. Pain exploded through his knuckles. 

“AAGH!” 

Peter yanked his hand back, shaking it wildly. His eyes and teeth clench in pain. ‘Okay! It can be very hard!’ He opens his eyes and to his horror; he doesn’t see a single dent or scratch on him. Absorbing Man grinned and swung his arm like a bat. 

The hit caught Peter in the ribs and launched him sideways. He crashed into a parked police car hard enough to cave the door in around him. The whole vehicle rocked up on two wheels before slamming back down. Peter slid off the side and hit the pavement on his hands and knees, gasping.  

“Ugh...” he grunted out, clutching his side. “...why does throwing me into a car hurt less?” 

Peter groaned and lifted his head. One lens on his googles was webbed with cracks, turning Absorbing Man into a warped, yellow tinted silver blur and the blur was getting bigger. 

The metal-skinned brute stomps forward. He swung the wrecking ball in a lazy circle over his head, chain whistling through the air. That twisted smirk, never leaving his face.  

Peter dragged in a breath and pushed himself upright. His ribs ache and his right hand throbbed from his useless punch. He widened his stance anyway, fists clenching. 

“Okay,” he muttered through the mask, shaking out his injured hand. “We are officially in Plan C territory.” 

Absorbing Man tilted his head. “You done talking to yourself, brat?” 

“Never. It’s how I come up with new material.” The wrecking ball sped up and Peter gulped. 

Five Minutes Earlier... 

Midtown traffic was locked bumper to bumper, horns bleeping in irritated harmony. Right in the middle of it sat a sleek red sports car that looked wildly out of place among taxis and delivery vans. Inside, James Rhodes sat in the driver’s seat in full military dress uniform, fingers drumming the steering wheel before he leaned on the horn again. 

“Unbelievable,” Rhodey muttered. “I’ve seen faster movement in TSA lines.” 

In the passenger seat, Tony Stark lounged, wearing aviator glasses and a tailored suit while one ankle resting on the opposite knee, being more laid-back than his friend. 

Tony grinned, sunlight glinting off the expensive watch on his wrist. “Come on, live a little. We always have to fly somewhere, doing this is charming. Being normal is good change of pace.” Meanwhile, a pedestrian walked by and did a double take at the car while another lifted their phone for a picture. 

Rhodey gestured around them. “Yeah, normal. You’re such the everyman.” Tony opened his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and answered. 

“Hey, Pep… Yep, we’re on our way.... Late? I'll say that-... Well, it’s because of a whole boat thing.” 

Rhodey leaned toward the phone. “Tell her we’re late because someone had to demonstrate one of his recently installed toys.” 

Tony covered the receiver and mouthed, “Shut up.” 

“Ignore him,” Tony said into the phone. “Why can’t I fly there?... I may or may not have used most of the suit’s juice... Well, I’m sorry for having to save lives in mentioned boat thing… No, everything’s fine. Totally fine. Relaxing traffic. Very zen.” 

Rhodey pointed at him. “You are one of the least zen human beings on Earth.” 

Tony ignores him, listening to the voice on the phone. “... What? It’s not going to hurt anyone over there to wait an extra five minutes Pepper. I been trying to tell ‘Maverick’ over here that the whole time.”  

“Hey, I told you not to call me that. Plus, god you’re old.” His friend rebuked back. 

Tony waved him off. “It’s fine, the world will continue spinning... probably.” 

Traffic finally lurched forward. “See? We’re moving. No need to-” before he could finish a loud BOOM rings out. The shockwave rattled windows with a cloud of dust and debris shot up several blocks ahead 

Tony’s relaxed posture vanished. He leaned forward, peering over the line of cars. 

“Yeah, on second thought...” he said into the phone, voice sharpening, “I’m gonna have to reschedule that meeting.” He hung up.  

Both men stepped out of the car. People up and down the street were doing the same, some staring; others already running the other way. 

Rhodey looked at Tony and immediately sighed. “Oh no. I know that look.” Tony already at the trunk, pops it open with a hydraulic hiss. 

“You’re really doing this?” Rhodey asked. “Suit’s at half power, remember?” Tony tapped controls inside the trunk. Panels shifted. Metal unfolded like a mechanical flower. 

“Rhodey,” Tony said, stepping into the forming armor, “if I only helped when it was convenient, I’d be a billionaire philanthropist with great hair.” 

“You are a billionaire philanthropist with great hair.” 

“Exactly” red and gold plates flowed over him, locking into place with smooth precision. 

“Risk comes with the job,” Tony said as the helmet formed around his head. “So does dramatic timing.” The faceplate snapped shut with a crisp click. 

The repulsors on his palms and boots glowed to life, bathing the pavement in blue light as he lifted off the ground. Rhodey folded his arms. “Just try not to turn yourself into high-end scrap metal.” 

Tony hovered, turning slightly toward him. “It’ll be fine. Also make sure to take the car out of here, one scratch and it’s another delay on your armor.” Tony quipped. 

Rhodey smirked. “Fly safe, Tin Man.” 

Tony now suited up as the popular Armored Avenger/Pro Hero: Iron Man, he crouches mid-air and boosts off into the city skyline. While inside the helmet, a familiar sophisticated voice with a British accent echos out. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Might I assume this disturbance is not on today’s schedule?” The voice asked smoothly. 

“Right on the money there JARVIS.” Tony said, angling toward the smoke. “Status?” Tony asked his A.I assistant. 

“Suit power remains at forty-nine percent. I recommend avoiding extended engagements.” 

Tony rocketed upward, a sonic boom trailing behind him. “Noted. Also, ping anyone who’s available just to be safe. Let’s call this a ‘light cardio’ kind of emergency.” 

“Signals sent, sir.” Tony streaked toward the rising column of smoke. 

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, “let’s go see who’s violating traffic laws this time.” 

The Present... 

Harry going through the abandoned street, ducked behind an overturned taxi. Sirens wailed somewhere close and every few seconds something else crashed the block. 

He swallowed hard and moved again, keeping low as he slipped from cover to cover. 

‘Okay, Osborn.’ He told himself, heart hammering. ‘This is officially the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. And that list is not short.’ 

“Peter?” He called barely above a whisper. “Gwen?” 

No answer, just distant screaming. Harry crept along the sidewalk, about to pass a high-end fashion store a when a red blur shot past him. 

It slammed through the large display window with a thunderous crash, sending mannequins, metal racks, and designer clothes across the floor. Harry yelped and threw his arms over his face. A few light shards rained down around him. 

He slowly lowered his hands and peeked inside. 

A masked man in what he guesses was exercise gear, sprawled in a pile of plastic limbs and tangled hangers, groaning. 

Harry blinked. 

“…Yeah, nope,” he muttered before turning and bolting the other way. 

Inside the wrecked store, Peter groaned and pushed a mannequin's arm off his chest. “Okay,” he wheezed, sitting up. “That one’s going on the list of ‘lessons learned’.” 

His hoodie was torn in multiple places, and one of his goggle lenses was completely shattered. 

‘God that sucked! Damn it! Where the hell is everyone?! Out to lunch?!’ 

Peter then felt a familiar tingle on the back of his head. He looks up to a sight he wasn’t hoping he’d see. 

He rolled just as the wrecking ball tore through the storefront again, obliterating the mannequins he’d just been lying on. The chain yanked the ball back into the street. 

“COME ON, YOU LITTLE TWERP!” The Absorbing Man’s voice boomed from outside. “YOU WUSSIN’ OUT ON ME?” 

Peter staggered to his feet, one hand on his ribs. He limped out through the ruined entrance and into the street. Absorbing Man stood in the middle of the road, metal skin gleaming in the sunlight, chain coiled loosely in one hand. He grinned when he saw Peter’s exposed eye, glaring at him through the cracked lens. 

“What’s the matter?” He mocked. “Got nothin’ to say?” 

Peter didn’t answer. He just walks past a smashed mailbox and stops beside a tall streetlight.  

He wraps his hands around the pole, his ruined gloves gripping onto it. He makes a loud grunt, pulling on the pole, trying to rip it from the ground. Absorbing Man laughs out loud to what he thinks is a pathetic display. 

“HAHAHA THAT’S FREAKIN’ ADORABLE! Look at you kid! God damn you’re pathetic! HAHAHA!” 

Peter gritted his teeth and pulled as hard as can, barley making the pole tremble. The villain continues mocking him, only fueling Peter’s growing frustrations and dare say rage. His palms burned as he tightened his grip. 

‘You can lift cars,’ he told himself. ‘You can lift cars. And this is just a really tall, ugly, metal tree!’ 

He roared and yanked with everything he had. Concrete cracked around the base as Absorbing Man’s laughter faltered. Chunks of sidewalk popped loose while wires snapped and sparked beneath the surface. 

With one final tug, Peter ripped the entire streetlight out of the ground in a spray of debris and flashing cables. 

Absorbing Man’s eyes widened. “Oh, you gotta be freakin’ kiddin’ me-” 

Peter swung hard. The pole bending on impact as it smashed into Absorbing Man’s chest with a deafening CRACK, launching the massive villain across the street and into the side of a building. 

Peter dropped the mangled pole, breathing hard. “Stop talking, he said...” he panted. “You ever listen to yourself?” 

He limps towards the curb of a sidewalk, grabbing onto a parking meter. He braced a foot against the base and ripped it free with a grunt. 

‘Okay,’ he thought, adrenaline surging. ‘If I can’t hit him myself, then I just hit him with something.’ 

Across the street, Absorbing Man shoved rubble off himself and stood, brushing dust from his metallic shoulders. “Not bad, squirt,” he growled. “But not good enough...” 

Peter staggered forward, meter in hand like a baseball bat. He rolled his neck, wincing at the pops. “Yeah,” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. “Story of my life... but I don’t give up so easily.” 

Absorbing Man snarled and started marching forward, chain ready in hand to finish this. 

However, he stops dead in his tracks as a bright blue blast screamed past his head and punched a smoking hole into the pavement between them. 

Both looked up and hovering above the street lies red and gold armor gleaming. Iron Man having arrived, lowered his glowing palm. “Alright, you walking hub cap.” The amplified voice boomed. “Playtime’s over.” 

Peter’s shoulders sagged with relief. He nearly dropped the parking meter, giving a weak little fist pump. “Yay, Iron Man...” 

“Listen up, chrome dome,” Iron Man called out, palm glowing. “Hands in the air, nice and slow. Let’s not make this uglier than it has to be.” 

Behind the faceplate, Tony’s HUD flickered over the battered teen in the red-and-black hoodie, scanning him.  

‘Huh, didn’t expect him to be here,’ Tony thought. ‘Better yet hold his own.’ Absorbing Man just rolled his shoulders, chain clinking, not saying a word. 

“What? Are your eardrums metal too? I said stand-” Cutting him off, the wrecking ball whipped around and slammed into Iron Man’s chest. The hit sounded like a car crash. Iron Man rocketed backward and cratered into the side of a building in a spray of dust and bricks. 

Peter flinched and cringed at the impact. “IRON MAN!” He dropped the parking meter, and sprinted past Absorbing Man. Peter leapt two stories straight up, sticking to the wall beside the crater where Iron Man was embedded. 

Peter grabbed at his metal shoulders plates, trying to pull him out. “Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead please don’t-” 

Repulsors flared in front of Peter’s face. Iron Man blasted himself free, hovering shakily for a second. Dust coated the red-and-gold plates while one eye slit flickered.  

Peter sagged with relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

From the speaker came a dry voice, “Ouch.” 

Iron Man turned his helmet toward him. “You okay, kid?” 

“I’ve been better…” Peter said, breathless. 

Tony’s visor tilted slightly, scanning again. “I get that.” 

“Listen Tony- Mr. Stark- uh Iron Man or whatever you’d like me to call you. That guy’s insanely tough; I can like lift cars but I can’t even put a dent on him! Plus, he’s faster than he looks also, his quirk is-” Before Peter can finish his exacerbated explanation, he gets interrupted. 

“Yeah, lemme stop you there,” Tony cut in. “You did your part, good job, but go home kid. Before someone or even me; has to arrest you.” 

“Look I’ll get out of your shiny hair, but I need to- LOOK OUT!” Peter’s senses tingled, pointing out the ball being thrown their way. Peter flattened himself against the wall as the wrecking ball screamed between them while Iron Man jetted sideways. The ball that missed them hits the pavement with a CRUNCH! 

Absorbing Man reeled the chain back in, furious. “Great! Just my lucky day! Cause of you kid, now I gotta deal with a damn Avenger! I would have been home scott free if it weren’t for you! 

Peter gave a shaky shrug. “Look on the bright side, you met a celebrity.” 

“I offer autographs, though I’d have to mail it to your cell.” Iron Man quipped. 

Peter mimed writing in the air. “Write it out to ‘Absorbing Man.’” 

Iron Man paused and snorted. “Wait, that’s actually your name?” 

He looked back at the villain and shook his head. “Buddy, we need to work on that.” 

Absorbing Man roared, taking a large stomp on the ground. “Laugh it up all you want!  I’m going to make your death as painful as I can you little brat!” He spat at the teenager. 

“And you!” While swinging his ball in the air, he points his shiny finger at the iron hero. “I’m going to cash in on that fancy armor of yours, once I peel it if off your squished corpse!” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Iron Man shot back, firing a rapid volley of repulsor blasts. 

Absorbing Man swung the wrecking ball at the airborne hero but being prepared this time, Iron Man catches it. Mitigating the impact, he lands on the ground, boots gouging trenches in the asphalt. He grabbed the chain with both hands and yanked hard. 

Absorbing Man stumbled forward, surprised as Iron Man spun. Using the chain like a lever, he hurled the massive villain overhead, slamming into the street with bone-rattling force, blasting out a crater of shattered pavement. 

“Okay,” Peter said jumping on a nearby streetlight, “that was pretty cool.” 

Absorbing Man staggered up, tearing the chain from his arm with a snarl. Iron Man’s chest reactor flared brighter. “Let’s wrap this up.” 

A brilliant blue beam erupted from his chest, hammering Absorbing Man and driving him backward through a bakery in a storm of glass and smoke. Iron Man advanced steadily, beam unrelenting. 

Inside the helmet, JARVIS chimed, “Power levels at twenty-five percent, sir.” 

“Copy. Cutting the Uni-beam in three… two…” 

When the beam died, smoke curled off Absorbing Man as he dropped to one knee. 

“About time you submit.” Iron Man states, walking towards him. 

Peter, perching from the pole, looks towards the scene ‘Well, it looks like Plan C worked; stall until someone else deals with it. Way to go Iron Man… or was that Plan A?’ However, his senses pricked again. 

While he sees the villain has fallen to his knees, he doesn’t try to move, get up, run away or even sway. Before Peter could figure out what’s wrong, Tony gets within arm's reach of the villain. 

“Alright, let’s get your shiny butt over to the Raft. JARVIS I’m going to need you to call up S.H.I.E.L.D and AGH-” Absorbing Man’s hand shot out and clamped around Iron Man’s wrist. 

The villain’s skin started to ripple and shift; Tony tries to rip his hand away from the villain’s iron grip but wouldn’t budge. 

Tony’s voice sharpened. “What are you doing?!” 

Absorbing Man grinned, metal teeth flashing. “Biggest mistake anyone made today was sending you!” He tightened his grip, metal grinding on metal. 

“The second I saw you tank my hits I knew that suit was special and now...” Absorbing Man fully transformed rose up, his skin being completely gold shined in the sunlight. “...so am I." He growled. 

“…Oh,” Tony muttered. “That’s why they call you Absorbing Man.” 

The villain grinned and grabbed Iron Man by the helmet, lifting him off the ground with one hand. Metal screeched under the pressure. 

“Stop!” Peter shouted, lunging forward but a second hand shot out and clamped around Peter’s throat, hoisting him up just as easily. 

Absorbing Man laughed, low and cruel. “I’m gonna enjoy this. Nice. And. Slow.” His grip tightened. Peter clawed at the metal fingers crushing his windpipe, feet kicking uselessly in the air. Across from him, Iron Man’s helmet began to fracture with sharp cracks running across the golden face plate. 

Inside the suit, Tony’s HUD dissolved into static and warning glyphs. 

WARNING CRITICAL STRUCTURAL FAILURE 

Tony gritted his teeth as pressure squeezed his skull. “J-JARVIS! I NEED POWER FOR THE UNI BEAM!” 

The AI’s voice stuttered and glitched through the interference. “S-Sir… c-comms relay in the helmet is f-f-failing. If I divert power to the arc reactor now, I will l-lose remote interface. You would need to m-manually reroute-” 

“JUST DO IT!” The arc reactor on Tony’s chest flared to a blinding blue and white. A point-blank energy pulse exploded outward. Absorbing Man roared as the blast scorched across his copied skin. His grip faltered just enough for Peter and Tony to be dropped on the ground. 

Peter hit the ground coughing violently, rolling onto his side and clutching his throat. Iron Man crashed to his knees, systems flickering. He turned immediately toward Peter and motioned towards his back. “Grab on now!” 

Peter didn’t argue. He stumbled forward and wrapped both arms around Iron Man’s shoulders. “Hang tight,” Tony warned. 

The arc reactor flashed again as another concussive blast burst, angled downward this time. The force launched them backwards like a cannon shot, flying them across the street in a blur of crimson. 

Before the harsh crash landing, Peter lets go at the last second and tumbled away while Iron Man slammed into the front of a parked car, caving it in. Steam hissed up around the crumpled hood. 

Peter gets up and staggers over, still wheezing. “Hey! You alive in there?” 

From the metal suit came a strained voice. “…Not the worst landing I’ve had. Now... mind giving me a hand?” A metal hand reached out. Peter grabbed it with both of his and pulled. Despite his fatigued body and heavy weight of the armor, with a final tug he dragged the Armored Avenger free. 

Tony ripped off his cracked helmet, sucking in air. His hair was plastered to his sweaty and bloody forehead. Peter glanced down the street seeing Absorbing Man was already pushing himself out of the rubble. 

Peter looked back at Tony who was inspecting his ruined helmet. “Say... isn’t your suit made out of a gold-titanium alloy?” 

Tony blinked before tossing the helmet aside. “More or less.” 

“Please tell me it’s a knockoff.” 

Tony gave a tired sigh. “Unfortunately for both of us. I don’t cheap out on these kinds of things.” 

Peter groaned. “Fantastic. So much for my Friday...” 

“You and me both.” Tony clapped the teen’s shoulder, before following his gaze. 

Tony’s tone shifted. “Alright. You’ve had more play time with Mr. Copycat. Talk to me.” 

“Can’t we just call the Avengers?” Peter asked, panic creeping in. 

“Signal’s out,” Tony said. “No ETA. And honestly? I really hope a certain someone that might make things a little worse doesn’t show.” 

“What’s that suppose to-” 

“Tips, c’mon!” Tony said, snapping his metal fingers, trying to make the boy spit it out. 

Peter swallowed. “Okay. Uh… with his quirk he can copy whatever solid he touches. On command, I think. He’s super dense and punching him directly? Don’t do that!” 

“Yeah, I gathered that part.” 

“But blunt force with other stuff works better. I nailed him with a pole, and your chest beam packed a punch.” 

“That works I guess...” Tony nodded slowly, his metaphorical gears turning. He takes a moment to look back down the street at the ever-approaching villain, then turns his head towards his battered armor. 

‘If I go head-on like this, me and this suit will be scrap metal in five minutes…’ 

His eyes shifted to Peter hopping on one foot while trying to stretch his other leg. 

Tony sighed. “This is such a bad idea. I’m definitely getting a license suspension for this one...” He grabbed Peter by both shoulders to his surprise, forcing eye contact. His voice turned firm. 

“I shouldn’t be asking you this. But I need your help. People will get hurt if we don’t stop him. Understood?” 

Peter blinks for a bit taken aback by the level of pressure. “Oh... Okay. I-” 

“But do exactly what I say!” The older man said sharply, pointing his finger. 

The young man swallows but he nodded. “...Alright. Tell me what to do.” 

“Good. Now listen up. You’re fast, strong, and nimble. Use that. Grab anything you can swing, keep him focused on you, but do not get grabbed again. Stay on your feet.” 

Peter nodded again “Okay.” 

“I’m going to dump what’s left of my power into one last big blast,” Tony continued. “I need a clean opening. When I yell, you get clear immediately. Got it?” 

“Yeah... cool, I got it.” Peter said, his nerves were showing, but his exposed eye showed determination. 

“Great now go break a leg.” Tony said patting Peter’s back “-actually don’t, it might make my penalty worse.” Tony called out. 

Peter huffed a shaky laugh and turned, jogging back toward the oncoming, metal-skinned man. Tony watched him go, then looked down at his gauntlet.  

A narrow panel opens along Tony’s wrist with a quiet mechanical click. He bent over it, fingers flying across the tiny controls. Lines of light pulsed under the damaged plating of his suit as he rerouted what little power he had left. 

The arc reactor in his chest began to glow brighter, its hum deepening into a rising whine. Tony flicked his gaze between the power readout and the street ahead, where Peter was sprinting straight back toward danger. 

‘I’ve been watching you for a while kid, you might be walking liability, but…” Tony thought.’…you’ve got the heart. Now’s your chance to impress me.’ 

“Okay, okay… think, Parker, think…” Peter muttered, scanning the wreckage as he ran. “Big, heavy, preferably not nailed down…” 

He skidded to a stop, eyes lighting up. 

“Oh... that’ll do.” 

Down the street, Absorbing Man slid down the crater where his abandoned weapon was. He grabbed the chain of his wrecking ball, fury twisting his face. 

“Freakin’ heroes… I’ll show them! I’ll show them not to fu-” Before he could finish his rageful rant, a massive shadow casts over him. He looked up just in time to see a Mini Cooper splitting through the air towards him. The car slammed into him and drove him deeper into the crater in an explosion of twisted metal. 

Peter stood a few yards away, chest heaving; arms still out from the throw. “YES! Okay! Thank god compact cars are extremely throwable. Thank you, spider quirk!” 

He didn’t wait. He sprinted toward the crater while his eyes glided across the area. “What else we got that could hit a pissed off Oscar trophy-” He stopped as he spotted his answer: the thick chain trailing from the wrecking ball, half-buried in rubble. 

Peter snapped his fingers. “Bingo.” 

Inside the crater, Absorbing Man shoved the crushed car off his chest with a roar before looking up to see a familiar sphere in the air. “HEY, ABSORBING DORK!” Peter yelled. “Have a taste of your own medicine!” 

He swung the wrecking ball in a wide arc with both hands. The chain rattled violently as the concrete sphere smashed into the villain’s face with a thunderous crack, sending him out of the crater. 

Peter let the chain drop instantly, arms trembling. “Yeah... I’m not lifting that up again.” 

Absorbing Man straightened slowly. The left side of his golden face was dented and gouged. His eyes burned. 

He charged towards Peter, but he dives into a roll, popping back to his feet. He wraps his hands around the pole of a parking meter next to him. ‘I never got to try this out!’ 

He yanked it out of the sidewalk with a grunt, before hopping to the side just as a massive fist cratered into the ground. Peter leapt up to eye level and with a loud CRACK! He swung the meter across the villain’s already-damaged cheek. 

Peter landed, bounced back out of reach as another punch tore through empty air. 'Use hit and run tactics, bring him to Iron Man!’ 

“C’mon, Absorbing Dork!” Peter called out, flipping onto the roof of a taxi. “You’re like six feet tall and still can’t tag me!” 

Absorbing Man smashed down with both fists, Peter sprang off just in time as the car flattened. 

“Missed me!”  Peter bolted down the street toward Iron Man, who stood braced, chest reactor blazing brighter by the second. 

Behind him came the thunder of heavy footsteps. When reaching just a couple of feet away from Tony, Peter planted a foot, kicking up dust, and pivoted hard, launching himself back at the villain. He slid under a lunging grab, smashed the parking meter into Absorbing Man’s stomach. Peter rebounded off the impact, then darted behind him and battered the back of his knee. 

As the giant stumbled, Peter vaulted upward and brought the meter down on the crown of his head with a metallic BANG! Not letting him recover, Peter flipped over the villain’s shoulders, landing on his back. He hooked the bent meter pole across his throat and yanked the massive man off balance. 

“Hey, Goldie!” Peter shouted through gritted teeth. “Smile for the laser!” 

Absorbing Man’s eyes shot away from Peter and locked onto Iron Man. His was armor flickering and the arc reactor blazed like an overworked furnace. 

Tony’s voice tore across the street. “GET OUT OF THERE NOW!” 

Peter tried to drop away, but the villain jerked his head back and with a CRACK into Peter’s masked face. Stars burst across Peter’s vision. 

Before he could recover, massive arms snaked behind, lifting him off his feet and dragging him in front of a golden chest, now being a human shield. 

Peter’s breath hitched. “Oh no no no no bad positioning, very bad!” 

Tony’s armored chest flared uncontrollably, light shining out, about to fire. “KID, I CAN’T STOP IT!” 

Absorbing Man bared his teeth inches from Peter’s face. “Enjoy getting blown in half! I KNOW I WILL!” 

Tony made a split-second choice. With a strained shout and every bit of strength he had, he threw himself sideways and angled his chest upwards. The beam erupted like a thunderclap, searing below Peter and blasting into Absorbing Man’s knees. 

The street exploded in white-blue light. Absorbing Man howled, his left leg glowing red-hot where the beam jetting across the metal surface. His grip faltered, and Peter dropped onto the ground. The teen rolled away and shielded his eyes from the blinding flash. 

When the light faded, Absorbing Man crashed onto his back. His leg was warped, dented inward, with smoke curling from blackened metal. When Peter lowered his arms, a moment of silence passed over the scorched battlefield. Tony lies on the ground on his side, panting, now unable to move his depowered suit.  

As Peter tries to push himself up on shaky arms, a hand like a steel vise, clamped onto the back of his jacket and yanked him across the asphalt. Absorbing Man loomed over him, one hand closing around Peter’s throat. 

Peter choked and clawed at the golden fingers before he saw it. The villain’s mangled leg was shifting, the metal bending back in place, dents smoothing out, and the structure rebuilt itself. 

“H-How…?” Peter rasped. 

Absorbing Man grinned down at him. “I can mend whatever I turn into! It’s going to take a lot more than that to take me out!” 

His grip tightened. Peter’s vision tunneled. His ears rang and thoughts scattered. Across the street, Tony struggled to rise, powerless to move his dense armor. 

“NOO!!” Tony cried out. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered. ‘Gwen… Harry… Aunt May… I’m so sorry!’ 

“NOW DIE!!” 
 
Before a death dealing squeeze something red, white, and blue smashed into Absorbing Man’s face. The impact snapped his head back and knocked him off balance, his grip breaking as he toppled sideways. 

The air flooded Peter’s lungs. He rolled onto his side, coughing violently. The disk ricocheted off and flew back into a red-gloved hand. Peter blinked up through watering eyes at the familiar star centered on the shield. 

“Hands off, pal,” a firm voice said. “Pick on someone your own size.” 

Captain America stood between Peter and the villain, calm and solid as a statue, already sliding the shield back onto his forearm. Peter let’s out a strained laugh in relief 

Absorbing Man pinches his eyes, trying to shake off the attack. He looks up to the iconic hero with his expression being more furious than ever before. “WHAT THE HELL IS IT NOW-” He stops himself; his expression now twisted into a smile as his eyes lay on the shield. 

“Oh... what’s this?” He whispers excitedly. 

Peter’s solace then quickly vanished. His stomach dropped when he came to a terrifying realization. 

‘Oh no.’ 

He looked from the shield… to Absorbing Man… then to the shield again. 

‘Vibranium.’ 

Across the street, Tony’s face bending into the same expression of worry. ‘No No No! The one guy I didn’t want to be here!’ 

“STEVE, WAIT!” Tony called out to his fellow Avenger. 

“I’ve got this, Stark. Get yourself and the kid out of here.” Captain America called, not taking his eyes off the towering figure ahead. 

Tony’s damaged armor whined as he tried to straighten. “Cap, now’s not the time for your noble boy scout routine!” 

Absorbing Man barked a laugh, the sound metallic and ugly. “Listen to what the good soldier has to say. I want some alone time with him!” 

“And now you’ve got it!” Cap shot back. 

He surged forward, boots pounding pavement, shield arm drawing back in a clean, practiced arc. “STEVE! HE CAN TURN INTO WHATEVER HE TOUCHES INCLUDING VIBRANIUM!” Tony shouted. 

Cap’s head turned just a fraction but before he could take this in, it was too late. Absorbing Man thrust his hand out, fingers spread, lunging for the shield. 

Before his palms could land, Peter launched from behind, grabbing a fistful of Cap’s bright costume and yanking with everything he had. He was hauled backwards as Absorbing Man’s fingers sliced through empty air. 

Cap hit the ground in a controlled roll, boots skidding as he popped back up into a crouch. Peter pointed wildly. “CAP! GET THE SHINY FRISBEE OUT OF HERE!!” 

“What he said!” Tony added, still half-pinned in his sluggish armor. “For once, I endorse a teenager’s panic!” 

“AGH! DO YOU HEROES EVER SHUT UP?!” Absorbing Man roared in annoyance. 

Cap glanced at the shield on his arm, suddenly more a liability than a lifeline. He weighed it for half a second as he smirked. “You want this?” 

With a sharp twist, he hurled the shield down the street. It ricocheted off a streetlight, slammed into the side of a brick building, and embedded there with a THOOM! 

Cap raised his fists, settling into a boxer’s stance, eyes locked on the advancing giant. “Come and take it!” 

As the villain stomped towards his way, Cap didn’t hesitate to break into a dead sprint towards the towering him. He drops into a slide, skimming between Absorbing Man’s massive legs. 

Seeing a sedan sitting crooked at the curb, Cap grabs the door, metal shrieking as he tore it clean off its hinges. He whipped it forward like if it were his shield. The door slammed into Absorbing Man’s face with a thunderous SMASH, folding around his head like a bent mask. The villain staggered backwards, being blinded as his arms windmill around. 

Cap didn’t watch him fall as his focus was on the teenager trying to get himself up. Before Peter could protest, a firm hand hooked under his arm and hauled him upright in one smooth motion. 

“Whoa!” Peter yelped, dizzy from how fast it happened. 

Cap steadied him and gave his back a solid, reassuring pat. “You did good, son. Really good.” His voice softened, then hardened again. “But I need you out of here.” 

Peter’s shoulders sagged. “Oh great. This talk again.” He muttered. 

He looked up through cracked lenses, trying to read the man behind the cowl. “Please tell me more backup is coming.” 

The Captain exhaled slowly through his nose. The silence said enough before his words did. “…I’m afraid I don’t know.” 

Peter straightened despite the ache in every bone. “Then I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you fight that guy alone.” 

“Listen, I appreci-” 

“Actually, Cap.” They both turned. Tony was halfway out of his ruined armor; the back peeled open like a broken shell and he braced himself against a car. 

“Despite being a complete amateur-” 

Peter threw his hands up. 

“-he’s been useful,” Tony finished. “And unless All Might himself drops out of the sky, we need all the help we can get.” 

Cap studied Peter for a long moment, then glanced back at Tony. “Don’t hear that kind of endorsement from you often, Stark.” He sighed. “Alright.” 

Peter perked up until Cap’s expression turned firm. “But you are not fighting him head-on anymore.” 

“But Cap-” 

“You’ve done enough of that.” Cap’s arm points straight down the street and Peter’s eyes tracked it to the lodged shield. 

“You take that and get it as far from here as you can. There’s a tracker on it. I’ll find you when this is over.” 

Peter’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I can’t just run! I looked the other way before when I shouldn’t have, and it cost-” His voice caught. “I’m not doing that again.” 

Through the fractured lenses, Cap saw it, the guilt, the fear, the desperate need to make it right. 

He placed a steady hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I know that feeling. Better than you think.” His voice was low and sincere. “But this isn’t about leaving someone behind. It’s about protecting everyone else. If he gets the shield…” He glanced toward the street where Absorbing Man was already tearing the metal off his face. “There may not be anyone left who can stop him.” 

Peter’s jaw tightened. "It's a sacrifice I had to learn a long time ago,” Cap continued. “One we keep making. That’s part of a hero’s responsibility. Your responsibility.” 

The familiar words hit deep. 

Peter swallowed and finally nodded. “…Okay.” His voice was small. “But please don’t die. You’re my favorite.” 

“What about me?” Tony called from behind a car’s hood he’d just popped open. 

Peter turns, hesitating to be honest. “…Close second.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

Cap allowed himself the faintest smile before looking at Tony. “Stark, you should clear out too.” 

“That inspirational speech applies to me as well, Grandpa,” Tony shot back, already yanking components from his ruined suit. “Give me a minute. I’ll rig something for long-range support.” 

Cap nodded. “Good. Let’s-” A twisted blur screamed through the air overhead. The car door Cap had thrown earlier crashed into the pavement behind them. The heroes turned to see Absorbing Man standing in the street, face dented, eyes blazing with fury. 

“OH NO,” he roared, voice shaking the windows. “I’M NOT LETTING THAT LITTLE PIPSQUEAK GET AWAY!” 

Peter makes a loud gulp before Cap turns to him. 

“Run.” 

The teen nodded once, then turned and sprinted down the sidewalk. Absorbing Man lunged to give chase but another car door smashed into his chest, knocking him off balance. 

“Hey!” Cap shouted, raising his fists again as he stepped into the street. “Eyes on me.” 

... 

Peter’s lungs burned like he’d swallowed fire.  

Every step sent a shock through his legs, his ribs, and his neck. His body begged him to stop, to drop, to just breathe for two seconds, but he didn’t. Because two of the greatest heroes in the world were counting on him. His chest tightened not from running, but from the weight of it.  

To his left, Captain America’s body flew through the air and smashed into the windshield of an abandoned car. Glass exploded outward in a glittering spray. Peter skidded to a stop. “Cap-!” 

“DON’T STOP!” Cap roared, shoving himself off the wreck with shaking arms. “RUN!” Peter’s feet stuttered on the pavement. Every instinct screamed at him to go back. To help. To not leave someone behind again. 

He turns to see Absorbing Man down the street, charging forward and suddenly jerked as a blast of energy hit the back of his knee. 

Tony stood braced beside a wrecked car, one Iron Man gauntlet strapped on, thick cables running from it into a car battery and the faint glow of his arc reactor.  

“Take another step! I dare you!” Tony shouted, another shot cracking against the villain’s leg. Absorbing Man roared as he punched his fist through a car door, then hoisted the whole vehicle and hurled it. 

Tony barely had time to rip the cables free and dive aside as the car crushed the one behind him in a thunder of metal. Peter’s senses screamed again as Absorbing Man’s head snapped toward him. 

“GO!” Cap bellowed. Peter ran and he didn’t look back again. 

Captain America slid off the ruined car and dropped to one knee. Blood trickled from beneath his cowl. Still, he rose, lifting his fists. 

“You can’t do this forever, Captain!” Absorbing Man taunted, stalking closer. 

Cap gave a breathless chuckle, shoulders squaring. “Oh, please...” He wiped blood from his lips. “I can do this all day.” 

... 

Peter reached the building where the shield had embedded itself. It took both hands to wrench it free from the brick. He was surprised that it was lighter than he expected. 

He strapped it on and ran. The teen made it half a block before his legs finally gave out. He ducked behind a low brick wall and collapsed against it, sliding down until he hit the ground hard. 

“Okay, okay-” he panted. “That’s just my body shutting down. I’ll just need a second to-” a sickening CRACK split the air before he could finish his sentence. Peter peeked around the corner to a horrifying sight. 

Captain America laid in the middle of the street; the pavement cracked beneath him. Absorbing Man started to loom over him when Cap lashed out with a kick that would’ve dropped a normal man, but the villain barely flinched. 

Then a golden fist came down. It smashed into Cap’s face and drove his head back into the concrete. 

He swung another punch, and another, and then another. Each blow made a dull, awful sound. Absorbing Man’s fist began to darken with blood. “WHAT HAPPENED TO DOING THIS ALL DAY?! HUH?! CAPTAIN?!!” He roared, raining down hits. 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "No No No No-” 

‘He’s going to die.’ His heart pounded so hard it hurt. 

‘MOVE! GO HELP HIM!’  Another voice rose up, sharp and panicked. 

‘Cap told you to run! If he gets the shield-’ 

‘But I can’t just WATCH!’ 

‘If you fail, more people will die!’ 

The conflicting thoughts banged in his head before he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“GAH!” Peter gasped, clutching his head. The world felt like it was slowing, stretching, as the sounds of the fight echoed down the street. ‘If he gets the shield…’ 

He looked at the red, white, and blue on his arm. 

‘He won’t.’ 

His hands stopped shaking. 

‘He won’t get it. He won’t win. And I’m not letting anyone else die because I was too scared to move.’ 

Voices, memories, rose in his mind, overlapping. 

“You do have more going on up here and that’s worth way more than any Quirk.” 

“I need your help. People will get hurt if we don’t stop him. Understood?” 

“It's a sacrifice I had to learn a long time ago, one we keep making.” 

“Scientist or not, you’re going to do some amazing things Peter.” 

“You can be a hero...” 

And beneath them all, the one that never left: 

“With great power comes great responsibility.” 

Peter opened his eyes. The fear and pain were still there, but it wasn’t in control anymore. He pushed himself to his feet, legs trembling, shield on his arm. 

“You’re a hero” he whispered to himself. “Act like it.” 

He drew in a deep, steady breath. Somewhere in the back of his mind, another voice, loud, determined, it being from the greatest hero across the planet. A phrase he quite liked. 

‘Go beyond.’ 

Peter set his jaw. 

“Plus Ultra.” 

... 

Sirens howled through Midtown, bouncing off glass and debris as a fire engine barreled down the ruined avenue. Inside, firefighters braced themselves. 

The moment the brakes screeched, doors flew open. One firefighter sprinted for a hydrant, wrench already spinning in his grip. Another hauled the hose from the back. The youngest of the crew jogged ahead to get eyes on the scene and froze at the ruined street. 

In the center of it, a massive man with skin like gold stood in a crater, bringing his fists down again and again on someone beneath him. 

The rookie’s stomach dropped as he recognizes the person in the crater. “Is that Captain America?!” 

A grizzled firefighter with a thick mustache jogged up beside him, following his stare. His face went tight. “Oh hell,” the veteran muttered. “I thought the heroes would’ve had this handled by now!” 

Another brutal punch landed. Even from here, they could hear it. “We need to fall back,” They started running for the truck when a voice cried out 

“WAIT! DON’T LEAVE!” 

Both men turned to see a kid, limping toward them in a torn red jacket and a battered mask. His movements were shaky, but urgent and strapped across his back was Captain America’s shield. 

“Hey! Please!” The masked teen called, breath ragged. “I just need one thing!” 

Before either firefighter could stop him, the kid darted past, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” He skidded to the firefighter manning the hose line and grabbed it with both hands. 

“Kid, what are you-” 

“Borrowing!” Peter yelped. “Super quick! Promise!” He wrenched the hose free and staggered toward the crater, boots pounding on the pavement. 

In the crater, Captain America barely held himself up on one elbow. Blood ran from his brow, down his cheek, dripping onto the broken street beneath him. Absorbing Man loomed overhead, chest heaving, fists covered with Cap’s blood. 

“HAD ENOUGH YET?!” He roared. 

Cap spat red onto the pavement and gave a crooked, exhausted smirk. “Not… quite.” 

The villain raised both fists high ready to come down, but being interrupted by a shout. 

“HEY!”  

Absorbing Man turned to the voice just as a high-pressure blast of water slammed into his chest like a battering ram. The force shoved him back, water hammered against him. 

Peter stood behind the hose, firefighter helmet crooked over his mask, feet planted wide as the recoil nearly knocked him over. "You look overheated!” Peter shouted over the spray. “Figured you could use a cold drink!” 

He pressed down on the lever further. The stream intensified, blasting Absorbing Man off his feet and into the side of a wrecked delivery truck with a metallic BOOM!  

Peter pushed forward, inch by inch, arms shaking from the pressure. “Thirsty one, aren’t you?!” 

Absorbing Man roared and forced himself upright against the torrent, his solid muscles bulging as he leaned into the blast. “YOU THINK-” he snarled, dragging one foot forward, “-A LITTLE WATER... IS GOING TO STOP ME?!” 

Peter’s grin faltered as the water wasn’t pushing him back as much anymore. “Uh… maybe?” 

The villain took another step and then another. The stream began to split around him. Peter’s eyes darted wildly across the street trying to come up with a solution, when his gaze met it. 

A theory sparked along with a very stupid, very risky idea. 

Absorbing Man bellowed, shoving through the spray. “I’M NOT STOPPING UNTIL I HEAR YOUR BONES CRUMBLE IN MY HANDS! YOU HEAR ME?! I’LL KILL YOU!!” 

Peter abruptly cuts the water, Absorbing Man blinked water from his eyes and saw the kid charging straight at him, Captain America’s shield braced. 

The villain’s face split into a vicious grin. "YOU FOOL!” 

He lunged, his palm outstretched. Peter leapt at the last second and shoved the shield forward. Absorbing Man’s hand slapped against it, feeling his power surge while his skin ripples. 

Then his expression changed, into confusion, then horror. Instead of transforming into the strongest metal on earth, his golden shine dulled. The metallic gleam vanished, replaced by rough grain and splintered texture spreading rapidly across his whole body. 

“W-What?!” He rasped. 

Peter skidded backward, boots scraping, still holding the shield up. But between the shield and his hands was a thick slab of bark wood. “Good job buddy! You just high-fived a tree.” Peter panted. 

Absorbing Man stared at his stiffening, bark-covered hands as the transformation finished his entire body. 

Peter rolled his shoulders and drew his fist back. “Annnd now,” he puffed, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” 

His punch landed square in Absorbing Man’s jaw with a sharp, hollow CRACK, like a steel ball smashing into a tree trunk. The wooden villain flew backward through a window in an explosion of glass and splinters. 

Peter landed, immediately grabbing his knuckles and hopping in place. “Owie owie! Still hurts! But...satisfying.” 

Behind him, Captain America pushed himself up from the shattered street, blood streaking on his face, uniform torn and dark with grime. He wavered but stayed standing. Peter hurried over and offered a hand. “Need a lift, Captain?” 

Cap looked at the kid’s shredded glove, then clasped it with his red one. Even battered, the super soldier was solid weight but Peter dug in and hauled him up with a strained grunt. “I told you… to run,” Cap said, breath heavy. 

Peter looked down, sheepish. “Yeah, I know. Sorry... I just… couldn’t look the other way.” 

He handed the shield back. Cap took it, studying the teen for a moment. There was something familiar in that stubborn fire, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“…If I’m being honest,” Cap said quietly, a tired smile tugging at his mouth, “I’d have done the same at your age.” 

Peter let out a relieved laugh before a crash made them turn. Absorbing Man dragged himself upright, eyes locked hungrily on the shield. “I think it’s time we finish this." Captain America announced. 

Peter bounced on his heels despite the pain. “Don’t have to tell me twice, I’m right behind you Cap.” 

“Let’s move.” Behind them, the young firefighter who’d lost custody of the hose yelped as the shield suddenly filled his vision. Cap, without looking, held it out. “Mind holding this a minute?” 

The rookie blinked, then grabbed it with both hands like it was made of glass. Absorbing Man roared and charged, each step thudding like thunder. Both heroes ran forward with Cap meeting him first. He slipped under a wild swing and drove a brutal kick into the villain’s knee. Bark exploded outward in splinters as the big man stumbled with a groan. 

Peter vaults over cars and launches himself like a red missile. With a WHAM! His heel smashed into Absorbing Man’s face, snapping the villain’s head sideways. Peter landed, already moving, ducking, weaving, and striking. His blows were fast, stinging, and relentless. He hammered joints, throat, ribs. Each hit chipped and sent flakes of wood flying. 

Cap followed with slower, devastating strikes; each hitting like an axe biting into timber. Cracks splintered across Absorbing Man’s body as he got driven down to one knee. He curled inward, arms over his head. 

Absorbing Man roared and swung blindly upward. Both heroes sprang back, and before the villain could take one step a blast tore through the air. With a cracking BOOM! Absorbing Man’s right arm exploded into a storm of splinters. 

He screamed, clutching the smoking stump, and staggered. From down the street came the rising whine of repulsors. Iron Man hovered into view with a new set of armor, heavier shoulder plating, silver replacing the gold and smoke curled from his gauntlet. 

“What-?!” Absorbing Man rasped. 

“You really didn’t think I had spares?” Tony’s voice echoed through the street. “Shout-out to Rhodey for the express delivery.”  

Absorbing Man then turned back too late. 

Peter and Cap stepped in and drove simultaneous uppercuts under the villain’s chin with a sharp POW! The wooden brute lifted off the ground, a massive fracture splitting straight up his face. 

He crashed onto the roof of a sedan, metal collapsing beneath him. Silence fell except for settling debris… and Peter shakes out his hand again. 

“Okay,” he groaned, cradling it, “definitely investing in padded gloves.” 

Absorbing Man lay sprawled across the crushed car roof, he didn’t move and Peter’s stomach dropped as panic rolled in. His hands shooting to the top of his head in shock. “OH MY GOD! Did we just kill him?!” 

Iron Man strode forward, eyes glow dimming as thin blue scanning beams swept over the fallen villain. “Easy, kiddo. He’s alive,” Tony said, voice calm. “Although...” 

He tilted his helmet slightly. “…He’s for sure going to feel that in the morning” 

Before their eyes, Absorbing Man’s severed wooden arm reformed, bark knitting into flesh, splinters melting away as his skin returned to normal. Captain America stepped up beside them. “Yeah, when he wakes up in a cell,” he responded to Tony firmly. “Hopefully, somewhere reinforced.” 

“Already handled,” Tony replied, tapping the side of his helmet. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got the alert.” 

Cap nodded once. “Good.” The tension began to fade out of the street, replaced by distant sirens. Steve exhaled, then turned, scanning for a certain red-jacketed teen. “Hey, son, listen I-” 

He stopped seeing the space beside them was empty. Steve looked around, brow furrowing. “Where’d he go?” 

Tony’s faceplate flipped up with a soft hiss, revealing a tired face. “Oh, he absolutely bailed.” 

Cap folded his arms. “Before we could talk to him.” 

They both sighed. 

“We are definitely getting our licenses suspended...” Tony finished. 

... 

A few blocks from the battlefield, the city felt like it was holding its breath. Sirens wailed from every direction, overlapping. Emergency lights painted the square in flashes of red and blue as paramedics knelt beside the injured and police officers took shaken statements from bystanders. 

Gwen pushed through the crowd. Her eyes darted to every face, every corner, every gap between people.‘Where did you go Peter?’ 

Harry was gone too. That thought twisted in her chest, but she shoved it aside, refusing to let anxiety win. 

Then she saw a tall officer with blonde hair stood a few yards away, speaking urgently to one of his peers. For half a second she froze, then relief crashed into her so hard it nearly knocked the air from her lungs. 

“DADDY!” She shouted. 

The officer’s head snapped up. 

“GWEN!” 

She ran straight into his arms. He caught her without hesitation, pulling her close as if letting go might make her disappear again. The moment she felt his solid, warm embrace, everything she’d been holding back hit at once. 

Her hands clenched into his jacket as her shoulders shook. 

“I-I thought…” Gwen tried to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as the fear finally caught up with her. 

Her father brushed her hair back, one hand steady at the back of her head. “Shhh… it’s okay,” he murmured, voice thick. “You’re safe now, baby. You’re safe.” 

She breathed in, shaky and uneven, grounding herself in the familiar scent of his uniform. When she pulled back, she saw his eyes were watery too. “I was so close to-” Gwen stopped herself, swallowing hard. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.” She nodded, but then her eyes widened, panic rushing back in like a wave. 

“Dad!!” She blurted. “Have you seen Peter? I’ve been looking everywhere but I can’t find him!” 

“Hey, hey,” her father said, steadying her shoulders. “Slow down. When did you last see him?” 

“Outside the Coffee Bean Café. H-He protected me,” she said quickly. “But when we started running, he was just… gone!” 

“All right,” Gwen's father said, already reaching for the radio clipped to his chest. “We’ll find him.” 

He turned away, speaking crisply into the mic. “This is Sergeant George Stacy. Be on the lookout for a teenage male, name Peter Parker...” 

Gwen barely heard the rest. Her eyes drifted past him, drawn by someone near an ambulance parked at the curb. A paramedic was wrapping gauze around a familiar arm. He was bruised, scraped, but very much alive. It was Peter. 

“PETER!” She screamed. 

She took off, Peter turned his head at the sound of her voice, eyes widening. “Gwen! Y-” 

She crashed into him, throwing her arms around his in a fierce, desperate hug. “OW OW OW!” Peter yelped, wincing from his sore body being squeezed. 

She pulled back instantly, hands flying to her mouth. “AH! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-” 

The paramedic chuckled as he stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Easy there. Your boyfriend’s fine, just a little tender.” 

“Oh, we’re not-” 

“That’s not- we’re just-” 

They both spoke at the same time, flustered. The paramedic smirked. “Uh-huh sure. Stay safe, you two.” He walked off before either of them could object further. 

Gwen let out a shaky breath, then carefully stepped forward again, wrapping her arms around Peter more gently this time. “I thought you were still over there,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I thought you could’ve been-” 

“I’m okay, Gwen,” Peter said softly, trying to sound reassuring even as he is clearly hurt. “I’m here. See?” She nodded against his shoulder. 

“I’m just… I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said, pulling back at last. Then her relief vanished. 

She straightened, eyes narrowing. She gave him the look. “Speaking of which.” 

The girl proceeded to poke his sore shoulder repeatedly with every pause. “Where. The. Hell. Were. You?!” She demanded. “And what happened?!” She let out, seeing his injuries. 

“Ah-hey! Ow!” Peter protested. “I’m sorry! Jeez!” 

Peter paused before scratching the back of his head. “I, uh… took a wrong turn,” he said weakly. “Then I tripped. And before I could get up… I kinda got... stampeded.” 

Gwen stared at him, unimpressed but deeply worried. “Oh, Peter…” she said quietly, the anger fading into something softer and heavier. 

“The Parker luck strikes again,” Peter said with a half-shrug, forcing a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You kinda… get used to it after a while.” 

Gwen let out a soft giggle, shaking her head. “God, Pete. Do we need to start putting a leash on you or something?” 

He sighed dramatically. “Please don’t. I’ve only got so much dignity left to lose.” 

That earned another laugh from Gwen, lighter this time, and Peter couldn’t help but chuckle along with her. For a moment, the weight of everything that had just happened loosened its grip. Things almost felt normal again. 

The laughter faded, leaving behind a strange, quiet tension. Peter shifted on his feet, then straightened, deciding to break the silence before it grew heavier. 

“Uh… we should probably go find Harry.” 

Gwen blinked, then nodded quickly. “Huh? Oh yeah! Let’s go do that.” 

They searched for a few minutes before spotting him sitting alone on a bench, staring at the pavement. Turning around, he quickly shot up. “GUYS!” He shouted, relief flooding his face. “Thank God! You’re okay!” 

He rushed over, gripping their shoulders. “I lost track of you both. I went looking everywhere!” 

Then his eyes flicked at Peter, narrowing. “And what happened to you? You look like you got hit by a truck.” 

Peter winced slightly. “I may as well have. Turns out a little trip and fall doesn’t slow down a crowd.” 

Harry cringed and Gwen spoke up gently, trying to steer things back to calmer ground. “What matters is that we all made it out.” 

the red head nodded, he looked at Gwen and then frowned. “Where’d you go? After Pete went missing, I lost track of you too.” 

Gwen hesitated. She shifted her feet, eyes darting away. “Um… don’t tell my dad about this, but...” 

Both boys waited. “I kinda went too far into the chaos and I…” she swallowed, “almost got crushed by a car.” 

Harry’s jaw dropped. 

“A car??” Peter’s eyes widened, acting as if he’s hearing this for the first time. 

“A CAR?!” Harry shouted. 

“Yeah! But this guy in a mask showed up and saved me!” 

Harry’s face lit up instantly. “A hero? Was it Iron Man? Wolverine?” 

“Dude, Wolverine retired like ten years ago.” Peter cut in. 

“It wasn’t either of them,” Gwen continued. “It was a vigilante.” 

Harry’s shoulders fell in disappointment. “Oh…” 

“He caught the car with his bare hands,” Gwen said, gesturing animatedly as she reenacted it. “He must have a really powerful quirk to pull that off! Pretty sure my dad talked about him before.” 

Peter nodded along. “Huh… interesting. I’m just glad he managed to save you.” Gwen smiled at him, and Peter returned it. 

“I think I saw him too,” Harry added slowly. “Kind of a similar thing, I-” The low hum of an engine cut him off. A sleek black limousine rolled up to the curb beside them, its polished surface reflecting the sky. The rear passenger door opened with a soft hiss. 

A man somewhere in his forties stepped out, dressed in a black suit with a dark green tie. He looked uncannily like Harry, with the same ginger hair and sharp features but older, hardened.  

Norman Osborn. 

The air shifted immediately. Harry’s expression frowned as Gwen and Peter exchanged a glance, both feeling the tension settling in. This was the first time either of them had ever seen Norman in person. 

Peter swallowed. There was something intimidating about the man’s stiff, upright posture. He was controlled, no-nonsense. The young man’s mind drifted uncomfortably to the accident that gave him his quirk. The spider being the property of Norman’s company, dying moments after biting him. 

For a while, Peter had quietly worried that Oscorp might come after him or his family. But so far, nothing has happened. Still, he forced himself to look polite and friendly for his friend’s father. 

“Harry,” Norman spoke; his tone was rough and cold. 

“Hey, Dad,” Harry muttered. 

“I heard what happened,” Norman said. “I was nearby. I wanted to check on you. And to pick you up.” 

Harry sighed, his frustration bubbling over. “Is that all you had to say? No ‘Are you okay, Harry?’ No ‘I’m glad you’re alive’?” His voice sharpened. “Do you only show up when it’s not an inconvenience for you?!” 

“Harry,” Norman warned. 

“I-” Harry’s shoulders dropped. “...I-I’m sorry. I just… I almost died, Dad. So did my friends.” 

Norman exhaled slowly through his nose. “...It’s alright, Harry.” 

He turned to Gwen and Peter. “Norman Osborn.” He greeted. “You’re friends of my son, correct?” He shook their hands firmly. Peter felt how cold and rough his grip was, just like his attitude. 

“Uh yes, sir,” Peter said. 

“Yeah...” Gwen added. 

Norman’s gaze shifted back to Peter, studying him, causing him to slightly stiffen. 

“You must be Peter,” Norman said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Thank you for helping keep my son’s grades from falling into the gutter.” 

“Uh, it’s no problem, sir,” Peter replied nervously. “Harry’s my best friend, so… yeah.” 

Norman tilted his head slightly, examining him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Richard Parker’s son, would you?” 

Peter’s eyes lit up instantly. “Y-Yeah! I am. You knew my father?” 

“Personally? No.” Norman said. “But I was familiar with his work. Brilliant mind. You’re the spitting image of him, intellectually and otherwise.” Peter listened closely, taking in every word. 

“I was especially interested in a molecular adhesive he was developing,” Norman continued. “It’s a shame he had to go so soon.” 

Peter’s shoulders slumped slightly. “...Yeah.” 

Norman placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “The world is cruel, my boy. That’s why men like us must rise to control the chaos. Quirks may dominate but it’s the mind that truly matters.” 

Harry looked between them, expression tightening. He cleared his throat to get his father’s attention. "Right. It was good meeting you both. Especially you, Peter. I hope to see you around more often. Come on, Harry.” 

The driver opened the limo door. Norman stepped in first. Harry lingered for a moment, then turned back to his friends, offering a small wave. 

“I’ll… see you guys on Monday.” 

“Bye, Harry,” Gwen said. 

“Be safe,” Peter added. 

The door closed, and the limo pulled away, leaving Peter and Gwen standing there both a little unsettled. 

“That was kind of odd,” Gwen muttered, watching the black limousine disappear into traffic. 

“Yeah,” Peter said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t really expecting that from him.” 

Gwen tilted her head, studying him. “What were you expecting?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “To be treated like wallpaper. Knowing I’m there but doesn’t really bother talking to me.” 

Gwen crossed her arms, shifting just enough that her shoulder brushed against his. "Well, you must’ve made quite the impression if Harry’s dad actually noticed you. Let alone complimented you.” 

Peter shrugged, eyes drifting back into the street. “I guess.” 

“Gwen!” They both turned to see Sergeant Stacy approaching; his posture tired but alert. 

“Oh, Peter! Thank goodness you’re here,” George said, relief clear in his voice. “I was starting to think Gwen was going to make me tear down half the city just to find you.” 

Peter offered a polite smile. “We make sure to keep an eye on each other, sir.” 

George nodded approvingly. “Good to hear.” He glanced back toward the distant flashing lights. “We’re about done wrapping things up. The heroes showed up and locked away the troublemaker.” 

He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, then looked back at Peter. “I also wanted to offer you a ride home. I don’t think Gwen would ever forgive me if I made you limp all the way back to Queens.” 

“Oh yeah, that’d be great,” Peter said quickly. “Thank you, sir.” 

George opened the passenger door of his cruiser. Gwen slid in first, buckling up, while Peter took one last look at the ruined street, the faint echo of a situation that had nearly gone very wrong, before he climbed into the vehicle 

Gwen pulled out her phone, scrolling aimlessly, clearly trying to distract herself from the weight of the day. Peter rested his chin in his palm, staring out the window as buildings blurred past, deep in thought. 

‘To think yesterday was a close call,’ he thought. ‘That guy took on two Avengers. What was I thinking?’ 

A slow breath escaped from him. ‘I’m lucky I walked away with my skin intact.’ 

Some reprehension creeping in, dreading what the public is going to say about this time. But The Captain’s encouraging voice cuts through the noise. 

‘Don’t doubt yourself too much, Parker. If you hadn’t been there who knows what would’ve happened to Iron Man and Cap.’ 

Peter leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. ‘Just be glad it somewhat worked out,’ he told himself. ‘And that tomorrow’s Saturday.’ 

For now, that was enough 

... 

The Next Day 

Tony Stark descended the stone steps of a government building, blowing loudly through his lips like he was trying to vent steam. The morning was annoyingly calm for how long the meeting had dragged on. 

Waiting at the bottom was Captain America, though today he wore the face of Steve Rogers with no uniform and no shield. Just a man leaning casually against Tony’s glossy red sports car, arms crossed, watching him approach with quiet patience. 

Steve lifted an eyebrow, wrinkling a large bandage on his forehead. “So, what’s the punishment?” he said evenly, 

“Two-month suspension,” Tony replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And an earful for ‘floundering with a criminal.’” 

Steve shook his head, following Tony as he circled toward the driver’s side. “Don’t call him that, Tony. He’s just a kid.” 

Tony threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey! Their words. Not mine.” The men slid into the car, doors closing with a clean, expensive thud. Their Seatbelts clicked, and Tony twisted his car keys in the ignition; letting the engine hum. 

Tony glanced over. “What about you?” 

“One month.” 

Tony clicked his teeth softly. “Lucky.” 

They pulled into traffic, the city already alive with horns, footsteps, and sunlight flashing across glass towers. The morning glare reflected off Tony’s aviators as he sighed. 

“Looks like I’m in for a mind-numbingly boring two months. I just hope the others pick up the slack while we sit in time-out.”

“At least it gives me time to catch up on that television show Clint keeps recommending,” Steve said, trying to sound optimistic. “I like it well enough, but motion pictures these days are so melodramatic... and long.” 

“Yeesh and Rhodey called me old.” Tony groaned, rubbing his temple, stopping at a red light. 

He straightened suddenly. “Oh, speaking of which.” 

Tony reached one arm back into the rear seat, rummaging around while Steve watched with mild concern. 

“You know,” Steve said, “seatbelts don’t work if you’re halfway back there.” 

“I’m parked, gramps” Tony grunted. “Relax.” 

He pulled out a tablet and handed it over. “I got a little something.” 

Steve accepted it carefully, staring at the screen like it might bite him. He swiped slowly, processing what he was seeing. After a moment, he looked up. “You found him?” 

Tony nodded, flicking his eyes back to the road. “I did a while ago. Cross-referenced a few things, hired a private investigator just to be sure.” 

He turned slightly in his seat. “Figured with all this free time, we should finally act on our little pet project.” 

Steve considered that, then nodded once. “I see. Are we heading there now?” 

“Right you are.” 

Steve leaned back into the seat, gaze drifting to the passing buildings. “Just… don’t scare him off.” 

Tony scoffed, spreading his hands confidently. “What? I’ve got the charisma. I just need to turn on the charm and take it slow.” 

Steve gave him a look. “Sure thing.” 

The light turned green, and Tony shifted the gears back into drive. 

... 

Peter lay flat on his bed, staring up at ceiling while a half-melted bag of frozen peas is pressed against his bruised forehead. He was healing fast but that didn’t stop his body from aching like it had been rung out and left to dry. Every muscle complained when he shifted, so he stayed still. 

A soft knock tapped against his door and Aunt May peeked inside. Being careful and gentle, she balancing a small tray crowded with pill bottles and drinks. “Hey,” she said warmly. “How’s my big man doing?” 

Peter groaned without moving. “Ugh… starting to develop a personal grudge against New York as a whole.” 

May clicked her tongue as she stepped farther into the room. “I still can’t believe those people. What they did to you was so selfish!” 

Peter’s phone buzzed in his hand, vibrating softly against his palm. While May continued her ranting, he unlocked the screen and opened his messaging app. He saw a new text from Gwen, and below their chat were unread messages from Liz, who somehow got his number. 

Gwen: Hey just checking on u. Doing okay? 

Peter lifted his free hand and typed back. 

Peter: Had better days, but I’m doing better. Wby? 

A reply came quickly. 

Gwen: I’m a little shaken up tbh. Dad is acting like if I walk out of the door I’ll just fall into a million pieces. 

He huffed quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

Peter: May is acting the same too, yesterday was bad for everyone. 

“Peter?” May called, breaking his focus. 

He glanced up from his phone. “Huh? Sorry, what’s up?” 

She sighed, setting the tray down on his nightstand. “I brought you more pain killers and water to help down it.” She paused, then pulled a blue sports drink from the tray. “I grabbed this too. The electrolytes should help that soreness.” 

Peter carefully took the pills and drinks, wincing as he shifted upright. “Thanks, May.” 

She lingered at the door as she turned to leave, peeking back in. “You just let me know if you need anything else, okay?” 

He nodded. “Mhmm.” The door clicked shut, and the room fell quiet again. Peter’s attention drifted back to his phone. 

Gwen: Yeah 
Gwen: Although it’s a crime to make her worry this much Peter 

Peter exhaled through his nose. 

Peter: Ik ik 

A muffled sound echoed through the apartment; his front door opened, followed by May greeting someone. Peter barely registered it, assuming one of her friends had stopped by. Still… the voices sounded deeper, more masculine; he frowned slightly but brushed it off. 

Another vibration pulled him back. 

Gwen: Hey so I’ve been wondering 
Gwen: Before everything happened back in the cafe. You were going to tell me something? 

The memory surfaced instantly back at the café. The conversation with Gwen helped bring out the courage he needed. He was ready to tell her about his quirk, not quite everything, but he had a chance to be honest. Perhaps be bold enough to tell her about his feelings. Now all that steam has been lost. 

Peter stared at the screen deep in thought. He doesn’t really feel like talking about it right now, just wanting to rest and not stress over it. Minutes passed still thinking when another message came in. 

Gwen: Hello? U there Peter? 

Peter jolted slightly and pushed himself up, typing quickly. 

Peter: Ah sorry, I was doing something. 
Peter: The thing I wanted to tell

Peter: Is it okay if I can save it in person, with you and Harry? 
Peter: Dw it’s nothing bad. It’s just something I wanna get off my chest. 

A moment later, Peter was in anticipation, watching the typing bubble. 

Gwen: Okay! Sounds good! 
Gwen: When u wanna hangout again? 

Peter exhaled, relieved. 

Peter: I’m prob still gonna be resting tomorrow so is after school on Monday okay? 

Gwen: Yep! Sounds good! 

Peter: Okay great 

Gwen: Oop gtg, my dad is calling me. I’ll ttyl! 

Peter typed a reply, paused, and debated adding a heart emoji. After a second, he deleted it and settled on something simpler. 

Peter: Okay see you 

He clicked his phone off and set it gently on the nightstand. Then he dragged both hands down his face, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, when another knock came against his bedroom door. 

He groaned softly and cracked one eye open. Aunt May peeked in but there was something a little off about her expression. 

“Oh, Peter!” She whispered. “I know you’re resting, but you have to come out here.” 

Peter frowned. “Wha-?” 

“Come on, come on!” May waved him forward and disappeared into the hallway before he could protest. 

Peter sighed, his aching body hated him for wanting to move. He grabbed his water bottle, wincing as his feet hit the floor, and slowly limped toward the living room. As he got closer to the room, he started to hear the people May let in, sounding very familiar. Peter took a sip of his water before he stopped dead in his tracks 

“This is my nephew, Peter.” May said, turning toward him from her armchair. 

Two men sitting on the couch turned around and Peter nearly choked on the water. Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, his favorite heroes were there, in his home, on his couch, after everything. 

“Oh-I-uh… um” Peter stumbled over the air itself, side stepping into the wall and pressing his shoulder against it like it might anchor him. “Hi.” 

“Hi there, Mr. Parker,” Tony said easily while Steve gave a polite little wave. Peter waved back weakly, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple as his heart slammed against his ribs. 

‘Why are they here? Do they know who I am? Are they going to arrest me?!’ Peter swallows trying to calm himself down. 

‘Okay okay okay okay. Don’t panic, it’s going to make you even more suspicious than you already are. Just act casual.’ 

Peter straightened, clearing his throat. “Oh my gosh! Y-You’re actually here. I-I mean, it’s nice to meet you both. I’m, um… a big fan.” 

“Nice to meet you too, son,” Steve said warmly. “Finally, face to face.” 

Peter squinted at the “face to face” part but quickly turned back to Tony. 

“So… what brings you here?” He asked, forcing a smile. 

“Well,” Tony said, standing and strolling toward him far too casually for Peter’s liking, “you caught my attention when you signed up for a grant.” 

Tony clapped him on the back while Peter nodded rapidly. “Uh, grant. Yeah. Grant.” 

‘What grant?!’ 

May tilted her head. “Huh. You didn’t tell me about that, Peter.” 

Peter cleared his throat again, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I, uh… wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Tony slid his sunglasses off and fixed Peter with a sharp, assessing look. “You see, scholarships are usually a college-level thing. But when nearly eighty percent of the population is banking on hero academies and super-science programs, you start keeping an eye on outliers.” 

Peter nodded along, barely processing. “And you,” Tony continued, “stood out.” 

“Okay…” Peter said slowly, then turned to Steve. “Uh, why are you here?” 

“I was at a meeting with Mr. Stark,” Steve explained. “Figure I’d tag along, curious who impressed him.” 

Tony mouthed, “Just a little bit,” earning a nervous blink from Peter. 

Tony then rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Anyway, that’s the gist of it. Mrs. Parker, mind if I have a word with your nephew? Just for a minute or two.” 

May hesitated, studying Peter’s face. “Um… Peter?” 

“Yeah yeah, that’s fine,” Peter said quickly. 

“It’ll just be a moment,” Tony assured, already turning toward the hallway. “And Steve, don’t bore the poor woman to death.” 

Steve sighed but May brighten. “Oh! Well, I like listening to souls with a little wisdom. You’ll be just fine, Mr. Rogers.” 

“Steve is fine, ma’am.” 

“O-Oh okay! Would you like some more tea?” 

... 

Tony closed Peter’s bedroom door behind them with a soft click while the teen stood awkwardly in the center of the room. 

“So,” Tony said, glancing around, “this your room? Kinda cramped, but it’s cozy.” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, fiddling with the spine of a book on his desk, eyes darting around trying to scan for any evidence of his double life. "But it suits me.” 

“Interesting,” Tony murmured, pausing at an old rock band poster. “Hey, these guys. You’re into them too?” 

“Y-Yeah. My uncle got me into them. I kinda wish they were still around.” 

“Same,” Tony said casually. “I actually caught one of their concerts before they broke up. Show wasn’t perfect, but hey, got to see them in person.” 

“Oh… cool,” Peter muttered. The silence stretched and Peter’s thoughts raced. 

‘Do they know? If they do, how? And why did they come here?’ 

... 

In the living room, Steve sipped his tea thoughtfully. “This is excellent, Mrs. Parker. Rivals the stuff I had in London.” 

“Oh! That’s good to hear,” May said nervously. “I don’t usually have heroes over or actually ever, so if I’m being a little… weird…” 

“It’s no trouble at all,” Steve said kindly. “You’d be surprised how strange people can be nowadays.” 

“I suppose.” 

May glanced at an old photograph on the wall of Peter smiling brightly beside her and Ben. “Peter has always admired you. While he wasn’t obsessed with heroics like most kids, whenever someone asked who his favorite hero was…” She smiled softly. “Your name always came up.” 

Steve chuckled, warmth flickering in his eyes. “You know, he reminds me of myself at that age. A lot.” 

May set her cup down, hands trembling just slightly. She looked at the photo again then back at Steve. 

“Steve,” she asked quietly, fear edging her voice, “are you here to arrest my nephew?” 

... 

“Can I ask something?” Peter said suddenly. “Because I don’t remember signing up for… anything. Unless this is some kind of-“ 

“Coincidence?” Tony interrupted smoothly. “Running into each other again like this?” 

“Well yeah I-” His voice cracked out, realizing what Tony just said. “What did you say?” 

Tony smiled while Peter forced a laugh. “I mean look, as much as I’d love to brag about meeting Tony Stark twice, I think you’ve got the wrong guy, sir.” 

“Oh no,” Tony said, stepping closer, his expression unreadable. “I’m very sure I’ve got the right guy.” 

He leaned in just enough to make Peter’s skin prickle. “Kind of rude,” Tony added softly, “running out on us last time.” 

Peter’s breath stopped. His chest tightened, panic clawing its way up his throat, and before he could force another word out, Tony lifted a hand. He brought it close to Peter’s face, one finger raised like a stop sign, his tone firm but not unkind. 

“Now, before the teen angst comes out,” Tony said, pointing upward for emphasis. “No. We’re not here to arrest you.” 

The words landed harder than Peter expected. 

Tony lowered his hand and stepped back, watching Peter carefully as the tension slowly drained from the room. Peter just blinked at him, frozen, like his brain needed a second to catch up. The billionaire hero turned casually and sat down on Peter’s narrow bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

“We’re just here to talk,” Tony added, patting the empty space beside him. Being an invitation, not an order. 

Peter stammered, mouth opening and closing without sound. His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him all at once. With a quiet, defeated sigh, he crossed the room and sat down beside Tony. The mattress springs creaked loudly beneath them. 

“H-How…” Peter tried to speak. “How did you find out? This fast? And better yet, how did you even find me? D-Did you tell my-” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand again. “One question at a time, kid.” Tony leaned back slightly, folding his arms as his voice shifted into something calmer, almost careful. 

“To tell you the truth? I’ve known for a while. Even before we met,” he said. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you sprang up in the neighborhood.” Peter’s eyes widened just a fraction, the surprise cutting through his fear. 

“As for how I figured it out,” Tony continued, “Being a billionaire playboy philanthropist/pro hero, I have my ways.” 

Peter leaned forward suddenly, elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god…” he muttered. 

For a moment, the room was painfully quiet. Then Peter dropped his hands and turned back to Tony, his voice smaller now. “So… you’re really not here to arrest me, right?” 

“Nope.” Tony shook his head without hesitation. 

“Did you tell May?” 

Tony tilted his head toward the door. “If Blondie over there doesn’t slip up,” he said, jerking his thumb backward, “then nope.” 

Peter let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Then… what are you here for?” 

Before Tony could answer, the bedroom door creaked open. Both Peter and Tony turned their heads in unison. Seeing Steve and May stand in the doorway. Tony glanced at them, then back at Peter, a faint seriousness settling into his expression. “I think he can put it into better words,” Tony said, nodding toward Steve. 

May stepped forward, her face tight with worry, like she already knew this conversation would come. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides. 

“Peter,” she said softly, her voice breaking just enough to hurt. “We... We need to talk.” 

... 

Peter’s room felt wrong. 

Not cramped or messy; he was used to that it was but tight, like the walls themselves were pressing inward. The air carried a weight he’d never felt here before, thick and anxiety-inducing. Peter gripped his knees until his knuckles whiten, fingers digging into the fabric of his pajama pants. 

His eyes flicked to Tony, still seated beside him on the edge of the bed, relaxed in posture but alert. Aunt May sat stiffly in Peter’s desk chair. Her thin hands wrapped tightly around her arms, fingers pressing into her sleeves as if she were barley holding herself together. Steve stood just behind her, back straight, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. 

Peter’s gaze drifted back to Tony as he spoke, his voice steady while addressing May. “So, like I said to your nephew,” he continued, tone calm but firm, “we’re not going to take him away.” 

Steve stepped forward slightly, shifting the gravity of the room. “Instead,” he said, “we’re looking to give him an opportunity.” 

Peter blinked, and stammered. “W-What opportunity?” 

Steve leaned his shoulder against the wall, arms still crossed. His eyes turned toward the window, staring out at the busy streets below. 

“Seven years ago,” Steve began slowly, “I woke up in a world I barely recognized.” His voice was quiet and reflective. “Centuries had passed. Technology evolved beyond anything I could’ve imagined. And most of the world… now has powers.” 

He paused, then turned his head slightly. “But despite the social politics, the laws shifting, and the rules being rewritten,” Steve said, finally looking back at Peter, “one thing stayed the same.” 

“The world still needs heroes.” Peter stayed silent, listening to his every word. 

“It’s why I took the super soldier serum to fight in Europe,” Steve continued. “Why The Avengers exist. Why All Might presents himself as the Symbol of Peace.” 

Steve’s voice dipped for a moment, his head lowering just slightly before lifting again his eyes locking with Peter’s. “Circumstances led to all of that,” he said. “But sometimes… they also prevent them.” 

The room now felt even smaller. “Tell me something, Peter.” Steve said gently. “Why don’t you go to a hero school?” 

Peter shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "I… because of money. We can’t afford it.” From the corner of his eye, he saw May’s gaze drop. Guilt washed over her face, heavy and immediate, like she believed the words were a personal failure. 

Steve nodded once. “So, circumstances are preventing that?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly, shrugging. “I guess you could say that.” 

“And that led you to become a vigilante?” Steve asked. 

Peter’s eyes drifted back to May. She hadn’t moved, still tense, still bracing. As uncomfortable as the truth was, he knew lying now would only make things worse. “…Part of it.” He admitted. 

Steve turned back toward the window; his voice softened. “Something similar happened to me a long time ago.” He let out a small breath. “I wanted to fight, not just to punch Nazis, but to help people. To push back against the bully.” 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “But I couldn’t enlist. Everyone told me my body would snap like a twig if I stepped the wrong way.” Steve’s gaze hardened slightly as memory bled into the present. 

“I was this close to forging my documents,” he said, holding his fingers just an inch apart. “Would’ve gotten me into serious trouble but instead, somebody gave me a chance. They didn’t see my body, they saw my heart.” 

He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward Peter. “And because of that,” Steve said, stopping in front of him, “I got to do what I always wanted, and be what people needed.” 

Steve met Peter’s eyes fully now. “And now,” he continued, voice steady with conviction, “I want to give that chance to others, to people like you, Peter.” 

The sincerity in his voice hit Peter harder than any accusation could have. “I know vigilantes are… frowned upon,” Steve went on. “People see them as a nuisance.” He lowered himself to Peter’s eye level. “But sometimes, I see something else. I see people willing to do the right thing without pay and without glory.” 

“I know hero society isn’t perfect,” Steve said quietly. “But I want to build something that’s closer to what it should be.” 

Tony stood then, rising from the bed and stepping beside Steve. “Which is why he came to me.” Tony said. 

“With my resources,” he continued, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “and Mr. Rogers’ eye for talent, we started well, you could call it a secret program.” 

“To set teen vigilantes on the right path,” Steve finished, “and give them the opportunity that circumstances took away.” 

Peter let their words sink in, each one stacking heavier than the last. ‘They’re here to help you,’ he told himself. ‘So why does it feel like I’m being cornered?’ 

His chest tightened. Before anyone could say anything else, Peter pushed himself off the bed and moved toward the door, his steps quick and uneven. 

“I-I appreciate what you’re offering,” he said, one hand gripping the doorknob like an anchor, “but-” 

“Peter,” May cut in, her voice sharper than usual. Fear slipping through the cracks, “I don’t like to be harsh, but you don’t have a say in this. You-” 

“Don’t, May. Please just-” Peter spun around, his voice breaking as he faced her. 

“Peter!” May pleaded, standing up from the chair. 

“Just listen!” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “My whole life, I didn’t have a say in anything! Did I ask to be bullied? To not have a quirk and then suddenly get one?!” 

May stepped forward, shaking her head. “What are you talking about, Peter? Of course you did. You cho-” 

“I didn’t choose, May!” He choked out. “I-I did it because I thought I had to.” 

His voice cracked, and the room seemed to tilt. Tears welled in his eyes as memories of the worst day of his life surged forward, uninvited. 

“What happened to Ben…” Peter whispered, his vision blurring. “I-I don’t want that to happen to someone else. I don’t want to wait for permission while someone’s dying in front of me!” He crossed the room in a few unsteady steps, stopping just short of May. Tony and Steve exchanged a glance but stayed silent, feeling like they were intruding. 

“Uncle Ben died because I was selfish!” Peter cried, his tears spilling freely now. 

“Peter…” May whispered. 

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he said through sobs. “I’m sorry I lied to you…” 

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, shoulders shaking. May knelt immediately, pulling him into her arms, one hand rubbing slow circles into his back. “I know. I know,” she murmured. “It’s okay, Peter.” 

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes looking like they stared into May’s soul. “So… you knew? Right?” 

May hesitated, then nodded. “Y-Yes.” 

“For how long?” He asked quietly. 

“…About a week.” 

Peter lowered his head. “Then w-why didn’t you say anything?” 

She took a steady inhale. “Because I was afraid,” she admitted. “And angry. And I didn’t want to say something I couldn’t take back, especially when everything was already falling apart.” 

She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’ll be honest, Peter,” May continued, voice trembling but firm. “I hate it. I hate that you go out there and risk your life for people who don’t even know your name, by yourself, without the proper training.” 

Peter looked away. “But I didn’t want to take that away from you,” she said softly. “After Ben... I was terrified you’d shut down. That you’d curl into yourself into a ball and never come back. But you didn’t.” 

Her hand rested over his heart. “You’ve been moving forward with purpose. You get out of bed every morning even when you’re hurting. Ben would… he’d be so proud of you.” Her voice wavered. “He wouldn’t like how you do it, but he’d be glad that you’re trying to make the world a better place.” 

She exhaled shakily. “But this can’t be the only way,” she said. “As much as I hate to admit it… there has to be a compromise.” Peter’s eyes widen in worry. 

Tony finally cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Look,” he said gently, “with the opportunity Steve and I are offering you; you’ve got two choices.” 

He raised a finger. “Option one: you give up the vigilante life. Go to school, live a normal life. But if you keep operating outside the law…” He hesitated. “There’s nothing more we can do. While we’re not going to do it now... I really don’t want it to come to the point where we have to take you in.” 

“Or option two,” Steve added calmly. 

Tony shot him a sideways look. “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there.” He sighed. The billionaire raised a second finger. “Option two, you enroll in a hero academy. I’ll cover your tuition, housing, and expenses. The whole thing.” 

Peter stared at the floor, voice barely above a whisper. “Even if I did that… I don’t want to leave anyone behind.” 

Flashes of the battle from yesterday flickered through his mind, fearing what would have happened if he wasn’t there. Steve stared at him as if he already knew what he was thinking. The ancient hero stepped closer and rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Which is why,” he said firmly. “I’ll be taking extra patrol shifts in Queens while you’re gone.” 

Peter looked up. “I promise you,” Steve continued, “when you come back, it’ll be exactly the way you left it.” 

“Like I said, Peter,” May continued softly, her voice steady but heavy with feeling, “Ben would be so happy that you want to become a hero. But he’d also want you to be smart about it.” 

Peter lowered his head, staring at the floor as her words settled over him. His hands trembled slightly in his lap, thoughts racing faster than he could rein them in. 

‘If… If you do this, Parker, then no more going out on your own. Not for a while, at least.’ Peter’s chest rose as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. 

‘As much as I don’t like it, Ben would tell me to take this chance. I made a promise. Not just to Ben but to everyone.’ 
Peter opened his eyes and stared at May, before they trailed to the window of the city. ‘After this… I’ll be the better for it. They’ll all be safer. I might have the power, but I need the responsibility.’ 

Peter inhaled slowly, then exhaled, as if letting go of something heavy he’d been carrying alone. “Okay,” he said quietly. 

Everyone in the room stood still, waiting for his confirmation. 

“I’ll do it,” Peter continued, lifting his head. He wiped the remaining tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “I’ll go to a hero school.” 

Steve nodded, a look of respect crossing his face. “I know that wasn’t an easy decision to make.” 

He glanced around the room, at May, at Tony, then back to Peter. “But everyone here wants what’s best for you.” 

Steve’s gaze drifted to the nightstand, settling on the framed photo beside Peter’s bed. A younger boy stood between his aunt and a smiling man Steve could only assume was Ben. The warmth in the picture made his chest tighten. 

He looked back to Peter. “Tell me something,” Steve said gently. “Why do this? I know you’ve told us pieces, but I’d like to hear it straight.” 

Peter stood, rolling his shoulders back as if squaring himself. When he spoke, his voice was steady with no hesitation. “I’m doing this because I owe it to Ben,” he said. “But not just him.” He cleared his throat once. “It’s because it’s the right thing to do.” 

He met Steve’s eyes. “He used to say that ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ And with this quirk… it’s my duty to help people. To be a hero, no matter what anyone else says or does.” May lets out a teary smile, hearing her husband’s favorite words, now being adopted by her nephew. 

A small, proud smile formed on Steve’s face. “Then,” Steve said, stepping forward, “it’s my honor to say this.” 

He placed a firm, reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker.” 

“License or not,” Steve continued, voice resolute, “you can and will become a hero.” 

Peter’s eyes widened, awe washing over him. His breath hitched, and a tear slipped free despite the smile breaking across his face one filled with relief, hope, and something that finally felt like permission. For the first time in a long while… it felt like things might actually be okay. 

Peter could only guess that from here on out, it’s going to be one rough, fulfilling and wild ride.

Most importantly it's going to be...

Amazing