“Hey, Victor!
Try this on for size!” Johnny launched a relentless barrage of fireballs.
Victor von Doom didn’t move an inch as the flames bounced off his armor.
“Johnny, Johnny…
you were always the weakest link.” With a flick of his wrist, Victor von Doom shot out a high-voltage arc of electricity.
It slammed square into Johnny’s abdomen, blasting him backward.
“Johnny!” Peter swung in, caught him in midair, and landed on a nearby rooftop.
Johnny’s flames had died out, and he lay unconscious—Victor von Doom’s current had overloaded his nervous system.
Susan raised a forcefield to shield Reed, but the stray energy was spilling over toward the civilians below.
They needed to create an opening.
Fast.
Peter’s eyes swept across the rooftop until they locked onto a massive central air-conditioning duct.
The building generated an incredible amount of heat, which meant the base of that duct had to be heavily insulated.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was the only option within reach.
He sprinted over, smashed off half the duct with a single punch, tucked it under his arm, took a deep breath, and leapt off the edge.
Swinging like a pendulum until he hit the highest point, Peter released his web line and plunged straight down toward Victor von Doom, duct in hand.
“Bite me, Victor von Doom!” Victor von Doom barely had time to look up before Peter crashed into him, pinning him down with the heavy metal duct.
The massive impact ricocheted through Peter’s body, making his bones ache as if they were about to shatter, but he forced himself to scramble up.
Switching his web-shooters to hardened mode, he frantically sprayed webbing until he had wrapped the duct and Victor von Doom into a solid cocoon.
“What is this nonsense?!” Victor von Doom thrashed wildly.
Plasma sparks surged from the gaps in his armor, but the insulation layer completely grounded the electric shock.
“Nice work, kid!” Taking advantage of the opening, Reed stretched his arms and seized Victor von Doom.
Susan instantly cast an invisible forcefield around Doom, lifting him high into the air before dumping him straight into the East River.
With the crisis resolved, Peter’s vision began to blur.
Everything around him took on a crimson tint.
He reached up and touched his head—his hand came back dripping with blood.
A cracked skull.
“Well…
isn’t this fun…” Everything went dark, and he collapsed backward into the rubble, completely losing consciousness.
*** When Peter finally opened his eyes, it was to the steady rhythmic ticking of medical equipment.
He was lying on a hospital bed with monitoring pads stuck to his chest.
His body throbbed with a dull ache, but thankfully, no bones were broken.
He reached for his face, and his heart instantly sank—his mask was gone!
Turning to look out the window, he saw the night sky hovering hundreds of feet in the air.
This wasn’t a hospital.
This was the Baxter Building.
The door pushed open, and Johnny, Reed, and Susan walked in.
“You woke up pretty fast,” Johnny said with a grin.
Peter pulled off the monitoring pads, grabbed his clothes from the bedside, and quickly stuffed his mask and web-shooters into his pockets.
“I take it you’ve already run facial recognition on me.” Reed nodded.
“Sorry, Peter.” “Dammit, my secret identity…” Peter rubbed his temples.
Pulling out his phone, he saw two missed calls from Uncle Ben.
He immediately dialed back.
“Hey, Uncle Ben.” “Peter!
Thank God.
Where are you?
Your Aunt May is worried sick!” “Sorry, Uncle Ben.
Marcus asked me to help him study for tomorrow’s chemistry quiz, and I…
I lost track of time.” Peter lied without batting an eye.
There was a two-second silence on the line before Uncle Ben spoke in a stern tone.
“Fine.
But when you get home, we need to have a serious talk about your attitude lately.
Have you eaten dinner?” “Yeah, Marcus’s mom made pasta.
Apologize to Aunt May for me.” Hanging up, Peter met Reed’s skeptical gaze.
“You’re terrible at lying.” “I’m not proud of it,” Peter shrugged.
Susan suddenly spoke up.
“You actually popped up back during the Battle of Harlem, didn’t you?
The guy in the red hoodie who helped Hulk fight the Abomination—that was you.” Peter nodded.
“Guilty.
I’ve been doing some odd jobs from the shadows lately.” “Don’t worry, we won’t leak your identity,” Susan explained with a gentle smile.
“After you passed out, I used my invisibility to bring you back to the building.
You’re safe here.” Peter followed them out of the medical bay and down a hallway packed with high-tech equipment.
Reed and Susan gave him a brief rundown of the building’s current situation: plenty of funding, but a severe shortage of talent.
“His name is Victor von Doom,” Reed mentioned, his expression complex when he spoke of the man in the green cloak.
“He used to be…
a friend of mine.” When they reached the living room, the TV was broadcasting street interviews.
On the screen, a grainy screenshot of Peter in his red jacket battling Victor von Doom played on a loop.
Public opinion was mixed.
Some thought he was too reckless, others cursed him as a menace who attracted supervillains, but plenty of young people praised him for his courage and style.
Peter felt a quiet thrill inside.
A debut alongside the Fantastic Four was maximum PR exposure.
“They’re right, you know.
You lack experience, and you’re far too reckless,” Reed began lecturing out of habit.
Susan glared at her brother.
“He was just trying to help.” Reed instantly bit his tongue.
Peter seized the moment to add, “Honestly, that’s why I stayed in the shadows before.
Once you’re under the spotlight, public expectations can crush you.” “Well, at least the Baxter Building got free front-page headlines,” Susan chuckled.
“By the way, what happened to Victor von Doom?
Is he in prison?” Peter asked.
Reed gritted his teeth.
“He’s the prince of Latveria.
He has diplomatic immunity.
He just walked right back onto his plane and went home.” From behind the couch, the Thing stuck his rocky head out, his stomach letting out a loud rumble.
“Can we eat now?” Johnny pulled five boxes of frozen pizza out of the fridge and used his flames to heat them up directly.
Though the crusts were a bit singed, the aroma of meat and melted cheese filled the room.
Over dinner, Peter gave them a simplified version of his origin story.
“Wait, you got super powers from a spider bite?
That sounds so dumb!” Johnny mocked.
“It wasn’t a normal spider.
It was genetically modified and irradiated,” Peter rolled up his sleeve, showing off the web-shooter on his wrist.
“And spinning webs isn’t natural.
I invented the chemical formula myself—it solidifies the moment it hits the air.” Reed’s eyes lit up.
“You invented that yourself?
That’s incredible.” Johnny wiped the smirk off his face, too.
“Nice job, man.
As a bit of an inventor myself, I know how hard that is.” After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room.
Susan looked at Peter.
“Peter, how would you like to come work at the Baxter Foundation?” Peter blinked.
“What?” “Your grades and your inventions prove you’re remarkably gifted,” Susan said earnestly.
“This building was made for geniuses.
You’d have your own lab, project funding, and a monthly salary.
You keep the patent rights.
Plus, maybe you can build yourself some upgraded gear.” The Thing added in his gravelly voice, “And if you ever need an alibi while fighting out there, you can always say you were pulling overtime in the lab.” “That’s an awesome idea!” Johnny cheered.
Peter looked around at them, swallowing down his excitement.
“It would be an honor.
To be honest, I really need the job—and the paycheck.” Susan stood up and shook his hand.
“Welcome to the Baxter Foundation.
It’s getting late, though.
You should head home before your aunt and uncle worry any more.” *** Late at night, Peter swung through the New York skyline and flipped quietly through his bedroom window.
In the living room, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were waiting like a stern wall.
For the next hour, Peter endured a torrential storm of lectures.
“So, do you have *anything* to say for yourself?” Aunt May finally paused to catch her breath.
Peter looked them straight in the eye.
“I got a job.” Both of them froze.
“I lied about Marcus.
I actually went to Madison Avenue to watch the Fantastic Four fight Victor von Doom.
I helped out a bit, Johnny saw me, and Susan invited me to the building.
I was late because I was interviewing at the Baxter Building.” Peter blurted it all out in one breath, bracing for a fresh wave of fury.
Instead, Uncle Ben spoke first, his eyes shining with pride.
“That’s amazing, Peter!
I’m so proud of you!” He stepped forward and pulled Peter into a tight hug.
Peter winced in pain, biting his lip to keep from making a sound.
He couldn’t let them realize his whole body was covered in bruises.
“Peter, you don’t have to push yourself so hard to earn money,” Aunt May sighed softly.
“Aunt May, this is what I want.
Inventing things, owning my own patents, and making money doing it…
it’s perfect.” Uncle Ben patted Aunt May’s shoulder and turned back to Peter.
“Lying was wrong, Peter.
But I understand why you did it.
You’re a good kid, and we’re proud of you.” Peter smiled.
Spider-Man was born, he had a job, and he had a family.
He was gradually settling into the life of Peter Parker.
*** The next morning, Peter walked into school with a light step.
His mind was full of ideas for new gear he could build using the Baxter Building’s resources.
First period was English.
Harry kept sneaking glances at him from his corner seat, but Peter just assumed Harry had a guilty conscience.
Mary Jane and Liz were chatting softly, while Flash was fast asleep.
“Quiet down, class,” the English teacher said, stepping up to the podium.
“Before we begin today’s lesson, I’d like to introduce a new transfer student.
She’s arriving a bit late in the term, so I hope you’ll all help her settle in.
Come on in, Miss Hardy.” The door slid open, and a girl walked in.
Her long, silver-gold hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders.
She wore tight denim jeans that highlighted her long legs, a crisp white shirt, and a black leather jacket slung over it.
She carried a lazy, dismissive air, as if completely indifferent to everything around her.
She gave a half-hearted wave.
“Hey.” Peter froze in his seat, his brain instantly short-circuiting.
Felicia Hardy.
Black Cat.
How on earth had he forgotten about this?!