The bus back to Queens was like a giant tin can—stuffy and reeking of sweat.
Peter leaned against the window.
The reflection in the glass showed a face pale as paper.
Sweat dripped down his temples, soaking dark stains into his collar.
“So hot…”
Peter’s voice sounded like he was talking in his sleep.
It felt as though burning lava was flowing through his veins instead of blood.
Sitting beside him, Leon placed a palm flat on Peter’s back.
Beneath his cuff, the core of the Omnitrix hummed with a faint warmth.
[Warning: Bio-enzyme activity in target has exceeded critical threshold.]
[Cellular division rate: 500 times that of a normal human.]
“Hang in there.”
Leon wasted no words.
The moment the bus screeched to a halt, he practically dragged Peter down the steps.
The evening breeze provided no relief, yet Peter shuddered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
“Don’t tell May…”
Slumped entirely against Leon, Peter subconsciously dug his nails into his brother’s forearm with shocking force.
“She’ll…
lose her mind.”
*Literally cooking alive, and he’s still worrying about that.*
Leon didn’t answer.
He simply gripped Peter’s wrist tighter and quickened his pace.
The Parker house glowed just up ahead.
A warm, orange light radiated from the windows, accompanied by the savory scent of meat rolls.
A scent that normally made his mouth water now hit Peter’s nose and triggered a wave of violent dry-heaving.
Sensory overload.
The front door opened.
“Oh, sweethearts, you’re finally back!”
May wore an apron, a wooden spoon still in hand.
“Ben was just wondering if Oscorp had dragged you two off as lab rats.”
Sitting on the couch with a newspaper, Ben Parker took off his reading glasses and offered a warm chuckle.
“I was just worried they’d lost track of time.
So, how was that gene exhibit thing?”
“It was great, Dad,” Leon cut in before Peter could answer, stepping in front to shield most of his brother’s body.
“Peter ate something bad and caught a chill.
He’s got a bit of a fever.”
“A cold?” May’s smile instantly flipped into concern.
She hurried over, reaching out to feel Peter’s forehead.
Peter instinctively tried to flinch away—his skin was agonizingly sensitive, every touch feeling like a needle prick.
But he forced himself to hold still as May pressed her slightly rough, warm hand against his forehead.
“Goodness!
You’re burning up!” May gasped.
“This isn’t just a cold, Peter.
You have a raging fever!”
“I’m fine, Aunt May…” Peter’s voice was raspy as he forced a weak smile that looked worse than crying.
“It’s probably…
just the flu.
It’s been going around at school.
You know, Flash Thompson even passed out in the gym today.”
Leon jumped in right on cue.
“Yeah, he took a nasty spill.
Peter probably picked up whatever he had.
You know how bugs are—they always pick on the weak ones.”
Ben frowned, setting his paper down.
“Should we take him to the hospital?”
“No!” Peter blurted out, a bit too forcefully.
Realizing his reaction, he quickly softened his tone.
“I mean…
it’s no big deal.
I just want to sleep.
Seriously, a night’s rest is all I need.”
Leon guided Peter toward the stairs.
“I’ll take care of him, Mom.
Just leave us some food, though I don’t think he’s in any shape for those delicious meat rolls right now.”
May watched the two brothers go, the worry lingering in her eyes, but she nodded.
“Alright, I’ll get some fever medicine and an ice pack.
Make sure he takes his medicine, Leon.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”
Supporting Peter, Leon practically dragged him up the stairs.
Peter kept his head down the entire way, biting his lip hard to keep from making a sound.
*Click.*
The bedroom door locked behind them.
The moment he lost support, Peter collapsed onto the floor like a sack of lead.
He curled into a ball, fingers tearing at the carpet, squeezing stifled growls from his throat like the whimpers of a wounded animal.
In his vision, the room was falling apart.
The patterns on the wallpaper twisted into countless giant spiders.
The ceiling spun wildly, as if gravity had vanished.
“It hurts…”
Peter forced the word through gritted teeth.
On his bitten left hand, the wound flared swollen and bright red.
Purplish-red veins spread madly up his arm like a tightening web of poison.
Leon knelt down beside him.
The emerald glow of the Omnitrix cut through the dim room, casting a scan beam over Peter.
[Genetic sequence undergoing violent rewrite.]
[Current Progress: 15%]
[Exogenous retrovirus detected.
Purging inferior human genetic segments.]
Leon watched his brother writhe in agony, his finger hovering over the dial.
The Omnitrix possessed the power to repair damaged genes.
One press, and Peter would go back to being a normal, happy high schooler.
He wouldn’t have to face the Lizard, or Doctor Octopus, or lick his wounds alone in the dark of night.
But he would die to Thanos’s snap.
Or fall to a Chitauri energy beam.
Leon slowly clenched his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white.
This was necessary pain.
“Listen to me, Peter.”
Leon pressed an ice pack firmly against Peter’s burning forehead, his voice cold and firm.
“Your body is at war.
Don’t fight it.
Accept it.
Let it change you.”
Peter couldn’t hear him anymore.
Consumed by fever, he slipped into unconsciousness, arching like a cooked shrimp as faint popping sounds echoed from his bones.
The sound of bone density rapidly increasing.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
A knock came from the door.
“Leon?
I left the medicine by the door,” May’s voice called out, full of worry.
“Are you sure he doesn’t need a hospital?”
Leon took a deep breath, steadying his voice, and cracked the door open just a sliver.
“He fell asleep, Mom.
Don’t come in, you’ll wake him,” Leon said, taking the tray holding a glass of water, aspirin, and another ice pack.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.
Go ahead and eat.
Don’t worry.”
Hesitant footsteps lingered outside for a long moment before finally fading away down the hall.
The night deepened.
Cool moonlight spilled through the window like water, bathing Peter’s sweat-drenched face.
Leon didn’t turn on the lights.
He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed like a grim guardian.
Leon didn’t give Peter the medicine.
Ordinary human drugs wouldn’t do a thing for him now and might even mess with his altering metabolism.
He pressed the ice pack back onto Peter’s forehead, but within five minutes, it had melted into a bag of warm water.
The heat radiating off him was absurd.
Time ticked away.
The Omnitrix’s Tactical Analysis continued to monitor the surging biological stats.
[Muscle density increased by 300%]
[Neural response speed increased by 4,000%]
[Dynamic visual tracking: Evolving]
Suddenly, the watch on his wrist vibrated intensely.
Not an alert.
It was an excited resonance, sensing a kin.
[Acquired high-order arthropod DNA sample.]
[Analyzing…]
[Analysis complete.]
[DNA database updated: Fusion Form – Unlocked (Spider DNA) Potential.]
Leon stared at the stream of data flashing across the interface, his eyes narrowing slightly.
That spider was indeed extraordinary.
It hadn’t just created Spider-Man; it had even triggered a response from the Omnitrix.
Just then, on a rooftop across from the window, a subtle red gleam flickered out of sight.
Not headlights.
High-precision optical surveillance equipment.
Leon whipped his head around, his sharp gaze cutting straight into the dark.
*Oscorp’s hounds really do have sharp noses.*
On the bed, Peter suddenly let out a low groan of pain.
A nightmare was consuming him.
In his dream, a monstrous spider opened its gaping maw, wearing the face of Norman Osborn.
“Get away!”
Peter roared in his sleep.
In reality, his body violently shuddered, his dangling left hand blindly clenching into a tight fist.
*CRACK!*
A sickening crunch split the quiet room.
That wasn’t knuckles popping.
Leon turned to look.
Peter’s fingers had punched straight through the solid wood bedboard as if it were soft tofu.
Under his unconscious grip, the hard oak splintered with jagged cracks, sending wood chips flying.
Strength.
Pure, violent strength that defied human limits.
Watching the hand sunk deep into the wood, Leon finally let his shoulders relax after holding them tense all night.
The most dangerous phase had passed.
The weak, nerdy Peter Parker had died tonight.
What would awaken tomorrow morning was New York’s guardian—capable of stopping a train with his bare hands.
“Good night, Spider-Man.”
Leon leaned back into his chair, the green glow of the Omnitrix flickering in his eyes.
The vigil continued.
Until dawn.