Peter moved.
Before his brain could even register it, his body flipped and launched forward, kicking straight at the intruder’s chest.
The man blocked, catching his ankle, but the sheer force of the impact still slammed him back against the wall.
Capitalizing on the momentum, Peter snatched a stapler off his desk, leapt over, and pinned the man’s neck, pressing the stapler hard against his bald head.
Only then did he get a clear look at the man’s face.
A black eyepatch, a bald head, and a face that sent a chill down his spine.
Nick Fury.
Director of SHIELD.
*Fuck.* “Very impressive,” Fury actually smirked.
“Mind letting go?
Can’t breathe.” Peter slowly eased up his grip, his mind racing.
This man was the top spymaster on Earth; a high schooler had no reason to recognize him, let alone know his name.
So, he chose to play dumb.
“Who are you?
How did you get in here?” Peter asked in a low voice.
“My name is Nick Fury.
Director of SHIELD.” Peter raised an eyebrow.
“You’re an agent?” “That’s right.” “If you’re an agent, why are you in my bedroom?” He pressed the stapler a fraction of an inch harder.
“Are you really trying to threaten me with a stapler?” “I can drive a staple right into your eye.
Want to find out?” “No, I don’t think you will.” *Click.* Cold metal pressed against Peter’s ribs.
He looked down and saw a gun.
When had he drawn it?
Damn it, amateur mistake.
His Spider-Sense hadn’t buzzed, meaning Fury had no intention of shooting.
But the sensation of a gun pressed against his side still made his hair stand on end.
“Now, can we talk like civilized people?” Fury asked with a faint smile.
“You break into my house, and you have the nerve to talk to me about being civilized?” Peter gritted his teeth, but he slowly backed away, keeping his eyes locked on the barrel.
Fury holstered the gun without any other sudden movements.
He simply stood there, sizing Peter up with a keen, evaluating gaze.
“Now, I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.” Peter’s facial muscles remained perfectly controlled, but inside, his mind was exploding with fireworks.
*The Avengers?
Me?
You’ve got to be kidding me.* “What is the Avengers?” he asked, putting on his most innocent face.
“A special response team.
Put together to deal with threats that lie far beyond the scope of ordinary men and conventional forces.” “So why are you looking for a high schooler?
To join your secret club?” Peter asked, playing dumb.
“Cut the act, Peter.
Are we really going to keep pretending you’re just some ordinary kid?” Fury arched an eyebrow.
He looked incredibly annoying when he did that.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” “Of course you don’t, Peter…
or should I say, Spider-Man?” Peter’s face tightened instantly.
“You’re crazy.
Get the hell out of my house, or I’m calling the cops.” He knew it was useless, but he had to play the part.
“Call the cops?
Then I’ll just tell them about your history of breaking and entering, and playing vigilante.” “Where’s your proof?” “We have footage of you changing, and high-definition photos of you lifting a steel girder at the abandoned railyard.” Peter scoffed.
“So SHIELD has that many cameras installed in Queens?
No, wait.
You hacked into surveillance systems to steal that footage illegally.
None of that would ever hold up in court.” Fury smiled.
“You’re smart, I like that.
You’re right, we can’t actually throw you in prison with that.
But taking you to court would expose your identity to the entire world.
Do you really want to see that happen?” Peter went quiet.
“So that’s how it is?” he rasped.
“Either I join you, or you strip away my privacy and parade me in front of the world?
Blackmail.
That’s your middle name, isn’t it, Fury?” “You didn’t leave me with many options, kid,” Fury said matter-of-factly.
“But join us, and you won’t regret it.
Elite training, state-of-the-art gear.
We’ll train you to be stronger, smarter.
We’ll build the ultimate Spider-Man.” Peter had long anticipated Fury playing this card.
Fury was treating him like the lonely, validation-starved, broke kid Peter Parker used to be.
But that Peter was gone.
“It’s an enticing offer.
But I decline,” Peter said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.
“I already have everything I need.” “Learning how to fight in some Chinatown dojo isn’t going to do you much good.
We can provide you with top-tier mentors.
The real deal.” “And what do you want in return?” “In return, you work for us.
We’ll assign you missions.” “Like killing people?” “We don’t do that kind of work.” “Then what?” “Infiltrate drug cartels, terrorist organizations, identify and neutralize national security threats,” Fury said.
“Sorry, Fury, but I don’t have time to be an international spy.
I have a job, I have family to take care of.
And most importantly, I have a city to protect.” “You think you’re the only superhero running around in spandex?” Fury narrowed his eye.
“Every night, new faces pop up trying to play vigilante.
This city existed long before you did, and it will keep existing without you.” Peter met his gaze.
“What about school?
What about my job?” “We both know your so-called job at the Baxter Building is just a cover.
As for school, we can make arrangements so you can manage both.
You won’t have to miss a single prom.” Peter remained silent for a long moment.
He was testing Fury’s boundaries, wanting to see how the man would react if pushed.
So, he spoke.
“Tell me, Fury.
Do you have other child soldiers on your payroll?
Or am I the only one?” Fury’s expression darkened.
The mask of cool composure he had worn this entire time finally cracked.
It wasn’t anger, but a deeper, more profound weariness.
“You think I want to do this?” his voice dropped to a low whisper.
“If I had any other choice, you wouldn’t get anywhere near a battlefield.
But you’re growing too fast.
So fast that people are already noticing you.
If you keep flying solo like this, someone is going to target you.
Hard.” He paused.
“I’m offering you a less terrible option.
I suggest you take it.” Peter said nothing.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” “You can.
One week.” Fury pulled a folder from the inside pocket of his trench coat and laid it on Peter’s desk.
“Everything you need to know is in here.
Goodnight, Peter.” He turned and walked out of the bedroom.
Peter strained his ears, listening closely, but heard no footsteps.
Not a single sound.
It was as if the man had vanished into thin air in the hallway.
Only then did he let out a long, slow breath.
Then he quickly scanned the room.
No, wait—the entire house might have been bugged.
Peter picked up the homemade EMP gun on his desk, dialed down the power output, connected it to his phone, and switched the electromagnetic pulse to a short-range pulse scan mode.
Starting with his bedroom, he went through the house room by room, scanning with his phone.
The first room turned up five bugs.
He adjusted the pulse frequency to a precise burn-out band and fried them one by one.
Then he scanned upstairs and downstairs, going back and forth three times.
The final count: twenty-five bugs.
Peter stuffed them all into a brown paper bag, walked out onto the porch, and threw the bag onto the steps.
Then he grabbed a sticky note from inside, wrote a line on it, and slapped it onto the bag: *Put bugs in my house again, Fury, and I’ll shove them all up your fucking ass.* He went back inside and headed upstairs.
When he glanced out at the porch again, the paper bag was gone.
Peter snorted.
*Good.
Hope you learned your lesson.* He picked up the folder on his bed and flipped through it.
It was basic stuff, packed with detailed explanations and terms in fine print, but he was too exhausted to read a single word.
Things were moving too fast—so fast that he didn’t have the energy to process it all.
Lying on his bed, Peter closed his eyes.
His mind was filled with drone wreckage, Arc Reactors, Tony’s armor, and Fury’s words: *You’re growing too fast.* He would pick out the most interesting threads from this tangled mess and pull at them.
He was willing to bet that the days ahead would be a spectacular adventure.