Faced with a question that would never have a definitive answer, Peter quickly pushed the thought from his mind.
“Whatever,” he muttered to himself.
“If preventing tragedies from happening grants me increased power, I think that is the most fitting special ability for a Spider-Man, regardless of which universe he belongs to.”
He stretched, taking in the fresh morning air.
“Looks like today is going to be a good day.”
Suddenly, a realization hit him like a freight train.
“Wait.
Speaking of good days…
today is the first day of school.
MJ is waiting for me!
Oh man, I can’t be this late!”
Pressing the triggers on his web-shooters, Peter launched himself into the sky, bathing in the golden morning light as he swung frantically toward Midtown High School.
By the time Peter burst through the front gates of the campus, the courtyard was completely deserted, with only a few celebratory back-to-school ribbons fluttering forlornly in the breeze.
The empty walkways were a stark reminder that the opening assembly in the gymnasium had already started.
He couldn’t even hear Principal Wesley’s monotonous voice echoing over the microphone yet.
Relying on his intimate knowledge of the school’s layout, Peter quickly slipped around to the back door of the gymnasium.
Crouching low, he sneaked inside and immediately spotted Harry Osborn waving frantically at him from the sea of seated students.
Panting heavily, Peter dropped into the empty seat next to his friend.
Harry immediately handed him a bottle of water.
“Forty-five minutes late, Peter,” Harry whispered with a smirk.
“Are you still jet-lagged from summer vacation?”
Peter unscrewed the cap, took a long gulp of water, and offered his practiced defense.
“The bus got into an accident.
I don’t need to explain to you how congested 42nd Street gets, do I?”
“I think that is the third time you’ve used that exact excuse,” Harry chuckled, patting Peter on the shoulder and letting it slide.
In the row directly in front of them, Mary Jane turned around and gave Peter a relieved wink.
The incident at the bus stop earlier that morning had genuinely worried her; she was just thankful he had made it in one piece.
Otherwise, she was half a second away from calling Aunt May.
Up on the podium, Principal Wesley’s lecture was as mind-numbingly dull as ever, practically lulling the entire student body to sleep.
From Peter’s other side, Gwen Stacy leaned over, her signature blonde ponytail lightly brushing against his shoulder.
“Peter, did you look at the experimental data I emailed you?” she whispered.
Peter froze, an awkward wave of realization washing over him.
He hadn’t even touched his summer homework.
“Oh, right!
I totally forgot to check my email.
I promise I will send you a reply tonight!”
Gwen sighed, shaking her head helplessly, though a warm, forgiving smile still lingered in her eyes.
As the four friends continued their hushed conversations about their summer breaks, Peter’s gaze unconsciously swept across the crowded gymnasium.
The bleachers were packed tight, but his eyes locked onto a single, glaringly empty seat.
It was Cal King’s chair.
Peter frowned, nudging Harry with his elbow.
“Hey, Harry, where is Cal?”
Harry glanced over at the empty spot and shook his head.
“No idea.
Nobody has been able to reach him.
He has been missing for almost two weeks now, and he hasn’t even posted a single update on his Facebook page, which you know he used to be obsessed with.”
Peter’s expression instantly darkened.
Cal King was a notorious bully at Midtown High.
Countless students had suffered under his reign of terror.
If Peter hadn’t been a reincarnated soul with the intellect to use clever, scientific tricks to outmaneuver the bully long before he even got his spider-powers, he undoubtedly would have been one of Cal’s prime targets.
But Cal’s sudden disappearance was far from good news.
Because in the grand tapestry of the multiverse, Cal King had another terrifying identity: the supervillain known as the Spider-Swarm.
In the prime Universe-616, Cal had secretly witnessed Peter Parker getting bitten by the radioactive spider.
Consumed by a toxic, festering jealousy, Cal had tracked down the spider’s irradiated corpse and actually eaten it, mutating into a horrific entity composed of thousands of living spiders.
To ensure this universe’s Cal didn’t suffer the same monstrous fate, Peter had deliberately avoided the bully on the day of the field trip and meticulously disposed of the spider’s corpse, ensuring Cal could never find it.
Theoretically, Cal had absolutely no idea that Peter was Spider-Man, meaning the origin of the Spider-Swarm had been completely erased.
Yet, the kid’s sudden, unexplained disappearance still left a lingering knot of unease in Peter’s stomach.
Maybe he just got expelled after too many complaints and transferred schools, Peter reasoned internally.
I’ll just have to keep an eye out.
Soon, the tedious freshman orientation drew to a close, and the students of Midtown High fell back into their regular academic routine.
The school day consisted of seven forty-five-minute periods and a lunch break, wrapping up promptly at three in the afternoon.
This schedule was exactly why the late afternoons and evenings were Spider-Man’s prime time for fighting crime.
From three to five, Peter was back in the suit, soaring over the concrete canyons of New York and dismantling various criminal operations. This chapter was taken from novelping(.)com without permission.
He also took the opportunity to thoroughly test his newly acquired abilities from the multiverse.
He discovered that his new invisibility was heavily dependent on a combination of mental focus, range of motion, and physical stamina.
If he remained completely motionless, he could maintain the optical camouflage for well over an hour.
His bio-electric shock, on the other hand, was tied directly to his raw stamina.
Unlike the villain Electro, who could directly absorb and store external electricity, Peter’s body converted his own chemical energy into powerful, localized electrical discharges.
Both abilities were incredibly potent, drastically elevating his overall combat effectiveness.
The invisibility in particular was practically a divine gift when it came to stealth operations.
At exactly five-thirty, Peter swung back into his bedroom right on time, carrying the fresh parsley and tomatoes Aunt May had asked him to pick up.
Dinner was spectacular—a rich tomato and vegetable soup paired with perfectly fried fish fillets and spaghetti.
After the meal, Peter collapsed onto his bed.
Focusing his mind, he activated the Web of Fate, the ethereal, glowing construct that only he could see, hoping to unlock more of its mysteries.
He quickly learned that activating a multiversal jump came with a strict seven-day cooldown.
If he wanted to embark on another interdimensional journey, he was going to have to be patient.
“Seven days is perfect,” Peter murmured to himself.
“It gives me enough time to rest and get my life back in order.
First up, actually finishing that summer homework.
After that, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is going on patrol.”
By ten o’clock that night, Spider-Man was perched high on the needle of the Empire State Building.
Looking down at the sprawling, glittering grid of New York City from the iconic landmark was one of the few moments of true peace he got to enjoy.
But tonight, his quiet moment was about to be interrupted by a highly uninvited guest.
Amidst the howling, high-altitude winds, the empty night sky suddenly began to ripple.
The air warped and flowed like water around a massive cloaking field.
A second later, the optical camouflage dropped, revealing a colossal, steel behemoth hovering silently in the sky—a S.H.I.E.L.D.
Helicarrier.
A lone figure descended from the belly of the flying fortress, lowered slowly by a thick steel cable.
It was an imposing, African-American man wearing a heavy black leather trench coat.
He had a shaved head, a thick goatee, and a dark eyepatch covering his left eye.
It was Nick Fury, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Stepping off the cable and onto the observation deck, Fury fixed his one good eye squarely on the vigilante.
“Spider-Man,” Fury said, his voice carrying an undeniable, heavy authority.
“We need to talk.”