Morning in Queens was bustling just the right amount.
The crisp pop of toast springing from the toaster blended with the restless hum of the morning rush hour outside, forming the cozy, lived-in warmth unique to the Parker household.
Beside the dining table.
Ben Parker held his coffee cup steadily with his left hand, but his right hung stiffly at his side.
Whenever he tried to reach for the sugar bowl, his kindly face twitched involuntarily.
“Uncle Ben?”
Peter mumbled around a mouth full of peanut butter toast, pointing at Ben’s arm.
“You look like you’re arm-wrestling an invisible man.
Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“Uh, well…”
Ben Parker’s eyes darted around—a dead giveaway that he was terrible at lying.
“Taking out the trash.
You know how dark the hallway was last night.
I tripped and tumbled all the way down.
I have to admit, Peter, my bones just aren’t as sturdy as you young folks’ anymore.”
A sharp clack echoed from the kitchen as a spatula struck a skillet.
Hard.
Carrying a distinct tone of warning.
May stood with her back to the dining table, her voice unnaturally calm.
“Your uncle is just clumsy.
I’ve already scolded him for not watching where he steps.
From now on, high-risk jobs like taking out the trash fall on you boys.”
Peter didn’t suspect a thing.
He nodded like a chicken pecking at grain.
“No problem, Aunt May!
I’ll handle all the chores from now on!
But Uncle Ben, are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital for an X-ray?”
“No need!”
“Unnecessary!”
Both voices rang out simultaneously, so in sync it was suspicious.
Leon sat across from Peter, using his silver fork and knife to precisely slice the sausage on his plate.
He looked up.
His gaze swept past his father’s right hand—clearly bound in a makeshift splint—and rested on his mother’s stiffened back.
The gunfight from last night, big enough to make headlines, was brushed aside by the couple with the clumsiest yet gentlest of lies.
This was the Parker home.
“Eat faster, Peter.”
Leon stabbed a piece of sausage and popped it into his mouth, his jaw working slightly.
“Unless you want to miss Mr.
Osborn’s opening speech.
Didn’t you call it the ‘voice of the century’?”
At those words, the worry in Peter’s eyes vanished, replaced in an instant by fanatical excitement.
He practically gulped down the rest of his milk in one go, grabbed his backpack, and bolted for the door.
“Oh God!
I almost forgot!
Hurry up, Leon!
We’re about to witness history!”
The door slammed shut.
The footsteps of the two teenagers faded rapidly down the hallway.
The smile on Ben Parker’s face collapsed instantly, dissolving into a heavy sigh.
“May…”
“Shut up, Ben.”
May turned around, her eyes slightly red, her hand gripping the spatula tight.
“Drink your coffee.
In this house, you fell down the stairs.
Got it?”
…
Midtown Manhattan, Oscorp Industries Building.
Massive holographic projections coursed across the exterior of the tower, a double-helix DNA structure rising like a ladder to the future, glinting with a cold blue light in the sun.
To Peter Parker, this was Jerusalem.
“Look at that!
An infrasonic resonator!”
“And that!
An anti-gravity levitation prototype!”
Excited like a country bumpkin on his first trip to the big city, Peter dragged Leon by the sleeve as he darted through the crowd.
“Gosh, I don’t even know which glass display case to press my face against first!”
Leon let himself be towed along, his expression indifferent.
As his eyes swept across the flashy exhibits, silent streams of data surged beneath his retinas.
[Environmental Analysis Mode: On]
The world deconstructed before his eyes.
The lavish exhibition hall flattened into a monochrome wireframe schematic, the crowd transformed into moving heat sources, and those so-called high-tech innovations had their outer shells stripped away, exposing rough solder joints and unstable power loops inside.
[Target: Miniature High-Energy Particle Collider Model]
[Evaluation: Energy conversion rate 43%.
Logical flaw in cooling system design.
Sustained operation exceeding 4 hours results in a 12% probability of overload explosion.]
[Conclusion: A beautifully packaged time bomb.]
Leon withdrew his gaze.
Oscorp Industries was merely wrapping dangerous hazards up like Christmas presents.
Stark sold weapons that killed people; Osborn sold probabilities that killed people.
No wonder the survival rate of New York citizens was a permanent mystery.
Peter pointed at a massive green cylinder, his face pressed against the glass, his breath fogging up the display case.
“Osborn’s newest individual exoskeleton battery!
Word is it can provide continuous power for 72 hours!”
Leon glided a glance over it.
[Target: Highly Compressed Chemical Battery]
[Defect: Electrolyte is extremely unstable.
High vulnerability to severe impact leading to strong acid gas leaks.]
“Peter.”
Leon reached out, snagged Peter by the back of his collar, and yanked him back a step.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t press my face against a jar of concentrated acid that could leak at any second.
Unless you’re eager for an early preview of life as a disfigured supervillain.”
Peter blinked, then broke into a wide grin.
“You’re hilarious, Leon.
This is Oscorp Industries!
The safest company in America!”
The safest?
Leon neither agreed nor disagreed.
The two navigated through the crowded main exhibition area, making their way toward the Biogenetics Hall.
A malicious voice buzzed over to cling to them like a fly.
“Yo, if it isn’t puny Parker.”
Several tall guys wearing yellow-and-blue varsity jackets blocked their path.
The blond jock in the lead chewed gum, looking at them with contempt, as if staring at trash on the side of the road.
Eugene “Flash” Thompson.
Star quarterback of Midtown High, and Peter Parker’s personal nightmare.
“Hi…
Flash.”
Peter reflexively pulled his neck in, hugging his backpack tighter against his chest.
“You’re here for the exhibition too?”
“For the exhibition?
Nah.”
Flash snorted out a laugh and took a deliberate step forward, projecting intimidating pressure.
“I’m here for the joke.
Heard there’s a lecture on ‘How Nerds Evolve into Even Boringer Nerds.’ Figured it was custom-made for you.”
The lackeys around him burst into coordinated laughter.
Peter kept his head down, trying to sidestep around them.
“We’re heading to the exhibition area over there…”
“What’s the rush?”
Flash suddenly stuck out a foot.
The movement was subtle, angled cunningly to block Peter’s natural path.
He had used this trick countless times.
Every time, Parker would eat dirt like a clown, drawing gales of laughter from everyone present.
Peter wasn’t looking at his feet at all.
He was about to trip straight over.
Leon moved.
No transformation, no dramatic gestures.
His genetically optimized physique made the world around him seem to slow down to half speed.
[Target: Eugene Thompson]
[Center of Gravity Analysis: Supported by left leg, right leg extended, center of gravity leaning forward 15 degrees.]
[Weak Point: Lower edge of the left patella.]
Leon casually took a step forward.
The tip of his shoe “accidentally” clipped the outer edge of Flash’s left knee—his supporting leg.
It didn’t take much force.
Just enough to disrupt that delicate balance point.
“Argh!”
Flash felt his supporting leg buckle.
His right leg, extended to trip Peter, had no time to recover.
His center of gravity failed completely.
Like an awkward bear, under everyone’s gaze, he slammed face-first flat onto the marble floor.
*Thump!*
The dull thud made onlookers wince.
The crowd that had been waiting to laugh at Peter fell silent for a split second, then erupted into even wilder laughter.
Only this time, the star of the show was different.
“Damn it!”
Flash scrambled up embarrassingly, nosebleed trickling down over his lip, his face turning the color of pig liver.
“Who?!
Who kicked me?”
“Watch your step, Thompson.”
Leon stood beside Peter with his hands in his pockets, looking down at him.
His eyes were calm, devoid of mockery, reflecting only the detached chill of someone inspecting a specimen.
“The floors were just waxed.
If you damage your brain, the school team would suffer a huge loss—though I doubt it would impact your football career much.”
Peter was dumbfounded.
All he had caught was a blur before Flash hit the deck.
“You…”
Flash glared viciously at Leon, his knuckles popping.
Yet as he met Leon’s dark eyes, an eerie chill involuntarily rose from the depths of his heart.
That was the look a predator gave its prey.
“Let’s go, Peter.”
Leon tapped his stunned brother on the shoulder.
“Don’t keep your spider waiting.”
“Huh?”
It wasn’t until he was pulled into the Biogenetics Hall that Peter snapped back to reality.
“Oh man!
Did you see that?
Flash actually tripped himself!
God must be punishing him!”
The corner of Leon’s mouth curved slightly.
God was busy.
Sometimes, you had to play God yourself.
Inside the Biogenetics Hall, the lighting was dim, and the air smelled faintly of ozone.
Peter’s attention was instantly drawn to the display stand bathed in purple light at the center.
“Super spiders!”
He pressed his body against the glass, his warm breath fanning into a hazy white mist.
“These were bred based on cross-species genetics theory…
They combine the traits of three distinct spider species!”
Leon stood behind him.
Beneath his sleeve, the face of the Omnitrix warmed slightly.
[High-Concentration Radiation Source Detected]
[Target: Genetically Modified Spider (Subject #15)]
[Traits: Carries retrovirus; capable of rewriting human DNA sequences.]
[Threat Level: High (Forced evolution regarding specific host)]
Here it came.
Leon activated his analytical view.
Before long, near the vent at the top of the display enclosure, he locked onto that tiny figure.
Eerie red-and-blue patterns, compound eyes gleaming with a faint light.
It was restless.
It lusted for blood.
“Strange, why are there only 14?”
The docent nearby was counting off a roster, looking puzzled.
Peter was completely engrossed, utterly oblivious to the dark silhouette descending slowly from the rim of the unsealed vent directly above his head.
The strand of web was so fine it was almost invisible to the naked eye.
That was the fishing line dropped by fate.
Leon’s pupils contracted slightly.
His right hand raised instinctively, aiming to swat the bug away.
Protect family.
This was his promise to Aunt May, and the supreme law of the Parker household.
With a mere wave of his hand, Peter Parker would remain a happy ordinary person, going to college, finding a job, maybe marrying Gwen or MJ, living out a peaceful life.
However.
In the split second before his fingertips touched the silk strand.
The Omnitrix’s AI core unfolded a holographic projection in his mind.
[Tactical Simulation Mode: Activated]
[Option A: Intervene.]
[Simulated Result: Peter Parker loses the opportunity for mutation.
New York loses ‘Spider-Man’.
In future major crises (Chitauri invasion, Thanos snap), key combat power will be lacking.
The Parker family’s survival rate in subsequent disasters drops to 0.001%.]
[Option B: Stand by.]
[Simulated Result: Peter Parker endures the agony of genetic mutation.
‘Spider-Man’ is born.
The Parker family’s survival rate increases to 68%.]
In this moment, time seemed stretched out endlessly in Leon’s perception.
He stared at the spider.
He looked at Peter’s unguarded face, full of curiosity.
Saving him meant destroying him?
What an ironic reality.
If Peter wasn’t forced through this, if he wasn’t made into that hero swinging between skyscrapers, then when true armageddon arrived, who would stand alongside him to protect Aunt May?
Protect Uncle Ben?
Rely on himself alone?
Leon’s hand froze in midair.
His fingernails dug deep into his palm, bringing a sting of pain.
Reason told him this was the optimal solution.
Yet emotion was screaming.
“Leon?
What are you doing?”
Peter felt something off beside him.
He turned his head, looking puzzled at Leon’s suspended hand.
“You trying to touch the glass?
That’s against the rules.”
Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Slowly, inch by inch, he withdrew his hand.
His gaze grew more complex than it had ever been.
“Nothing…”
Before the words had even settled.
The spider landed on the back of Peter’s left hand, which rested on the railing.
Without hesitation.
Its fangs pierced the skin in an instant, injecting the venom that rewrote destiny.
“Ouch!”
Peter jerked his hand back, instinctively slapping the back of it with his other hand.
*Smack.*
The multi-million-dollar mutant spider turned into a smear of red and green goop.
“What happened?” Leon’s voice was raspy.
“Nothing, feels like some bug bit me.”
Peter shook his hand, glancing at the welt quickly rising red and swollen on the back of his hand, laughing it off.
“Probably a mosquito.
Guess their hygiene around here isn’t all that great.”
He had no idea.
In this exact second, an extraordinarily aggressive virus was wildly invading his bloodstream, about to tear his DNA apart and reconstruct it.
Leon looked at the shriveled corpse of the spider, then at Peter’s still-bright smile.
A weight known as guilt pressed heavily onto his heart.
*But I will be right there with you.*
*Brother.*
*If tragedy comes, I will be the safety net.*
“Peter.”
“Yeah?”
“If…
I mean, if you feel unwell or if any strange changes happen…”
Leon stared into his eyes, placing weight behind every word.
“Remember to tell me.
I’m your brother, and I’m your best backup.”
Peter froze briefly, then threw a careless arm over Leon’s shoulders.
“What are you talking about?
I’m as strong as an ox!
Let me tell you, I hear Norman Osborn’s giving a speech on the second floor next, even if that guy creeps me out.”
Arm in arm, the two headed for the stairs.
And behind them.
On the second floor of the exhibition hall, behind the one-way glass of a VIP observation room.
Norman Osborn swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, his dark green suit appearing intensely somber in the shadows.
His eyes weren’t watching the exhibits below.
Instead, he stared intently at the backs of the two departing boys.
More accurately, staring at Peter Parker’s left hand—the one that had just been bitten.
“Interesting…”
A neurotic smile surfaced on Norman’s sharp, angular face.
It was the fanaticism of a scientist sighting a lab mouse.
“Subject Number 15 found a host.”
He drained the liquor in his glass in one gulp, the ice cubes clinking crisply against the glass wall.
“And it seems there’s an overly sharp observer present as well.”
Norman’s gaze lingered on Leon’s retreating back for a moment, deep and unfathomable.
“Welcome to the world of evolution, boys.”