Just a quick note, some elements in this story will be taken and adapted from the "Untold Tales of Spider-man" comics, not much, but there will be something here and there.
The deafening noise of the school cafeteria was mixed with the smell of canned food and cheap soda, and if Peter hadn't already gotten used to it, he would have been a bit uncomfortable there. He was sitting at a secluded table, his head down, a few sandwiches in front of him, listening to the buzz around him with a distant gaze.
To his surprise, people didn't talk about him as much as he thought they would, and it was even quiet during class that day. Apparently, even the scum of the earth managed to have a shred of decency at times.
However, the hot topic of the moment, to his misfortune, was still him. Well, his other him, in any case. The people there were talking about nothing else but the vigilante who swung around buildings, lifted cars and ran up walls.
Well... Spider-Man could have all the attention on him, no problem, as long as Peter Parker managed to become invisible to them all. This allowed him to focus more easily on his plan.
His plan... was it meticulous, cruel and perhaps a little sadistic? He wanted to make Harper feel small, distressed and not just humiliated. And the best way to do that was to use his girlfriend, Gwen.
Okay, thinking about it that way, it seemed like something pretty... bad. He almost felt bad. But hey, on the other hand, Gwen would be much better off away from that guy, so he was kind of doing her a favor. It wasn't enough for him to stop feeling guilty, but it wasn't like he was committing a crime, or committing an act of evil.
Kinda...
No, Harper deserved it, he wasn't innocent.
Peter thought about how to manipulate the situation. He had already told Gwen about that secret group they had on their phones. He wouldn't say that Gwen was the epitome of integrity, after all, she had never lifted a finger to help him before, and in a way, that made her just as bad as the person who practiced it.
But then again, she wasn't the one who'd thrown trash at him, so fuck it.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms after finishing his meal. Danny was Harper's best friend, or at least they seemed to be. He had spent the last few days absorbing the little bits of information he had collected about Harper and his friends. Liz, and now Bea were involved sometimes, but less and less, and Harper was the weak link, insecure, anxious perhaps, for what? He didn't know, especially when Danny was involved.
In his occasional interactions with the others, Peter had noticed that Harper had a certain way of acting with Danny. A certain need to prove his superiority that could go unnoticed by inattentive eyes. It was as if he had a certain fear of being seen differently.
His plan began to take shape as he watched Gwen, who was sitting a few tables away with Mary Jane and Bea. The three of them were chatting animatedly, but Peter could see that Gwen was casting furtive glances in Harper and Danny's direction. Probably because of what he had said.
He discreetly removed the hacking device from his pocket... he had to think of a name for it. Peter didn't like to use his inventions for this kind of thing, the little device could connect to local Wi-Fi networks and access private messages on nearby devices, it was easy to do something crazy, but this time, he made an exception. He activated the device, setting it to track recent messages sent between the members of Danny's group.
The device vibrated slightly, indicating that it had found something. Peter put a small earpiece in his ear and began to listen to snippets of voice messages and read parts of texts. Sarcastic comments, insults and bad jokes were scattered throughout the conversations.
He gritted his teeth when he saw the photo they had taken that night, of him on the floor, covered in garbage. Mean comments followed soon after, which was to be expected, but the worst were the comments about his uncle.
The guilt he felt before quickly faded at the mention of his uncle, and now he was motivated. He found what he needed: a recent message from Danny about Gwen, mocking her grades and insinuating that she did "favors" for the teachers to always get high marks.
Scum would always be scum, it seemed.
The worst thing was that Harper didn't seem to mind. In fact, his next comment was something like: "I wouldn't doubt it, who could resist a little face like that?"
He had the perfect starting point. He just took a screenshot of a not very pleasant conversation and sent it to Gwen by the name of Danny. He didn't even have to look at her to know what kind of expression she had, since the image was about a conversation about her dear friend Mary Jane.
Gwen stood up, apparently determined to confront Danny. Peter saw the opportunity forming before his eyes. As he thought to himself, she wouldn't hesitate to go to Danny first, since the boy, despite playing the bully, was a coward at heart.
No wonder he didn't mess with anyone when he was alone, only those he knew wouldn't retaliate.
The schoolyard was slowly emptying as the students returned to their classrooms. In a far corner, Gwen kept her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on Danny. He was nervous, fiddling with his phone as if he could find an explanation for what was happening there.
"I told you, Gwen!" Danny said, raising his head with a frustrated expression. "I didn't send that message. Someone must have messed with my phone!"
"Oh, right!" Gwen retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm. "That's stupid, even for you! Am I supposed to believe that? Do you think I'm an idiot? That I don't know about your little group?"
Danny froze for a second.
"... What group?"
"Don't play dumb, no more than you already are! The group of you and Harper." She said, arching an eyebrow. "Did you think I didn't know?" She wasn't sure, but he didn't need to know that.
Danny took a step towards her, raising his hands in an attempt to explain himself, but Gwen backed away a little.
"I'm not part of this, Gwen. I swear. Someone went through my phone and..." Before he could finish, Gwen threw her hair back and interrupted him.
"Stop lying!" She approached angrily. "Prove it then! Show me the group. Open your phone now!"
At that moment, Danny put his hands on Gwen's shoulders, squeezing lightly. His face turned red with irritation.
"You think you can accuse me like that! You might regret doing this!" Gwen didn't hesitate. She pushed Danny hard against the wall, causing a dry thud to echo through the corner of the courtyard.
"Is that so? Have you forgotten that I have the photo of what they said about MJ? Even if I was wrong, no one would believe you, Danny. No one. You're just a pathetic bully who ends up in the principal's office almost every week, while I'm one of the best students in this school. You don't have to be a genius to know that you don't stand much of a chance. Now open your phone and show me the group."
Danny hesitated, trapped by the intense look that crossed his face.
He didn't know what to do.
Great...
Peter stood up calmly, putting the device back in his pocket. He turned and walked with long strides towards the schoolyard. Gwen was no longer in the cafeteria. Why would she be? She wasn't the type to make a fuss, she wouldn't attract attention.
He walked around the yard, away from the movement. When he saw that no one was looking, he took out his phone and moved to the place where he knew they would be. And there it was.
Gwen was now face to face with Danny, her expression one of pure frustration as she confronted him. Danny looked uncomfortable, and tried to deflect the girl's advances.
That was until he put his hands on her shoulders, bringing his face closer in an angry and somewhat desperate expression. Peter photographed the moment, Danny with his hands on her shoulders, their faces close together... he purposely captured only from halfway down their faces.
Gwen broke free of his grip and put her hand on his chest, pushing him against the wall in an annoyed expression. Peter moved to the side and photographed the moment again, not catching her expression, only Danny's. It was impossible not to recognize that it was her, not with the hair, not with the headband.
As much as they were fighting and arguing, the photo was incriminating enough.
Satisfied, Peter left without being noticed. He headed for the corridor, where he knew Harper usually went before the break.
He found Harper alone, leaning against his locker, fiddling with his phone. Peter approached slowly, pretending to bump into him by accident.
"Oh, sorry, Harper..." Peter said, with an unassuming tone, but enough to catch the boy's attention and he looked at him with disgust.
"What the fuck, Parker! Watch where you're going!" He complained. "Did you stick your glasses up your ass or something?!"
Always so dramatic...
"No. Do you want to borrow them so you can see for yourself how stupid you are?" He said it back, and Harper sharpened his expression even more, putting his phone back in his pocket.
"Who do you think you are, have you lost your fucking mind?" He asked quietly, taking a few steps closer with his hands clenched into fists. Peter merely held up both hands... now, in that situation, Harper seemed so... small.
"Getting violent already? I don't think that's smart." He replied, pointing to a security camera in the corridor that had a view of where they were. Harper stopped, but his gaze didn't change. "Although you're not known for being smart, what did I expect?"
The boy gritted his teeth and clicked his tongue, Peter merely suppressed a smile, keeping his expression neutral.
"Do you think that just because you're in mourning you can do whatever you want and I won't beat you up? Do you want a repeat of that, Parker?"
"I think you're too worried about me losing my glasses while your girlfriend loses her pants with your friend." Peter said, and despite his anger, confusion soon became present in Harper's expression.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Dude, I came here to help you, I shouldn't even be saying this." He said, shaking his head.
"Say what, Parker, I'm losing patience with you." Peter rolled his eyes.
"I try to help and this is how I'm rewarded... Anyway, I didn't say anything to you, okay? It's just that I heard a rumor in the cafeteria." Peter continued, crossing his arms and leaning slightly forward. "About Danny and Gwen. She's been looking at him a lot lately... don't you think?"
Harper frowned, straightening his posture, his expression slowly twitching.
"It's no big deal, you know? It's just... well, sometimes people act differently when they think no one's looking. Especially when you and her aren't talking anymore. I don't know who started spreading it, I didn't come last week, but what I heard wasn't very nice." He shrugged again and walked away, letting the idea hang in the air.
Harper stood still, watching Peter walk away, as the seed of doubt began to sprout. When Peter reached the end of the corridor, he saw Harper glance nervously in the direction of the cafeteria.
He almost smiled.
Peter entered the school's computer room, where a few students were scattered around. The device was in his hands, the display glowing as he uploaded the images he had taken earlier.
With his device, Peter connected to the school's local Wi-Fi network and discreetly accessed the nearest devices, including Harper's phone.
"Now, the message." Peter muttered to himself as he typed. He created a fake account on a popular messaging app, using a generic name that could easily be discarded later. He then attached the one-time view photo and started typing.
Jeez, Harper, do you need help putting the pieces of your ego back together after that? Or are you too busy looking after the queue of guys your girlfriend keeps after you?
When the message was sent, Peter leaned back in his chair, watching as the device tracked Harper's interactions in real time. While he waited, he looked at his small device.
He used it on his nightly rounds... and soon his mind went back to his new name. Spider-Man... maybe his little devices needed a name too.
Hack-Slinger
Hmm... no. Sounds like the name of an 80s rock band...
Web-Crawler
Gosh, no! Really? That sounds like the name of a search program...
Spider-Tech? Hm... More generic than white cereal. But not all bad...
Spider-Byte... you know what? It's silly, but I liked it.
Within moments, he saw the activity increase. Harper opened the message and the image. His phone was inactive for a moment, probably while he processed what he was seeing. Then several notifications popped up. He was sending messages to Danny, which was exactly what Peter wanted.
Using his device, he accessed Danny's messages and intercepted part of the conversation with Harper. As expected, Danny denied everything, trying to deflect the blame and minimize the situation. It was a predictable pattern, but Peter knew how to amplify it. He altered Danny's response slightly before it was sent. "Harper, what's the problem? As far as I know, she's not talking to you anymore after you acted like an asshole."
The small change was enough to add fuel to the fire. Harper, already insecure, would interpret the message as confirmation that there was something going on.
Peter smiled to himself. For that day, he had done enough. Now...
Peter sat in his room, illuminated only by the cold glow of the computer screen and the tiny LEDs of the Spider-Byte, which was connected to the system. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, opening files, accessing social networks and scouring the depths of Harper's online history. The leader of the American football team seemed to be more than just a popular kid. Aww, they thought he was ambitious, determined to become a professional player.
How cute.
Harper was methodical, he had to admit, with strict training schedules and a routine that revolved around his career in sport. But, of course, outside of his determined side, he was a naughty boy. Private messages exchanged between him and close friends showed a boy who got involved in clandestine parties, occasional use of illegal substances and, on one occasion, trying to cover up a violent fight outside school.
The substances he sort of had an idea about... well, more or less, he'd never seen him with anything other than weed. But the parties? The violent fight? He had no idea... apparently his father did a lot to cover it up.
Not out of concern for his own son, but because he was one of the culprits. Ah, it ran in the family.
Shit... I doubt Gwen knows the half of it. He is a good liar, I'll give him that.
With the Spider-Byte, Peter accessed school security records and even cameras near the soccer field where Harper trained. He found videos showing Harper bullying teammates, forcing them to play even with injuries. Cases of bullying, even towards him.
... Hm, what a fine professional he would be.
The first stage was to expose Harper's character, to destroy his image in the eyes of the team. Harper shouting at an injured colleague. Harper mocking other members of the team for not being able to keep up with him. Harper hitting some teammates, bullying others. He knew that an anonymous post on the school's social networks, or perhaps a direct message to the coach, would do the job.
Peter went back to Spider-Byte and found records of messages between Harper, Danny and other members of the group. They weren't as united as they seemed, he knew. Petty rivalries and resentments were hidden beneath the surface. Peter selected strategic snippets of conversations to send anonymously to each of them. Words Danny had said about Harper when he thought no one was listening, or what Harper had insinuated about Liz during a party. All carefully chosen to sow doubt.
Now... Harper had a sports bag at stake. Any scandal or serious incident could jeopardize that. Using his device, Peter accessed traffic cameras near a recent party where Harper was present along with an older member of another American football team. He found images of the boys staggering out of a house, visibly drunk, and getting into a car. There was no evidence that he drove drunk, but his friend certainly did, and that image could be enough to destroy his credibility.
He paused for a few moments, hesitating. This could end the future career of someone who, in the future, might need it badly. Someone's dream... Aunt May's words echoed in his mind, about giving someone every chance to do good.
But, honestly, Harper was a hopeless case. He wouldn't do good even if it was worth a grade, only if he was genuinely desperate. What's more, if he really cared about his football career, he wouldn't do the things he does. Even Flash was behaving.
He brought this on himself.
Peter looked at the screen one last time, reviewing the files he had compiled. He only needed a single click, just one, and he could start crumbling Harper's perfect world. The boy would never again be an athlete, never again be respected as a leader. And maybe, just maybe, he would learn what it means to be humiliated.
Although it seems very little for what he did.
He saved all those files... he still wouldn't send that... not yet.
The school corridor was empty, with one or two students passing quietly on their way to their respective classrooms. Peter was leaning against his locker, quietly pretending to look at something on his phone.
He adjusted the hood of his hoodie, and it was then that he saw his cue. Harper was coming towards him with heavy steps. He had an irritated expression on his face, and didn't look like he'd slept very well that night.
Peter almost smiled... he probably still couldn't believe the photo he had received. Peter understood, it was hard to imagine that the angelic Gwen Stacy would do something like that... almost impossible. But, well, she was dating an imbecilic and cruel bully, so maybe that thought was wrong.
"Fuck Harper... who bit you?" He asked, putting both hands in his pockets. Harper almost didn't look at him, mumbling something quietly which Peter merely ignored.
"Shut the fuck up, Parker. I don't have the patience to deal with you today." He said aggressively, continuing to walk at a heavy pace.
"Aww... could it be that you're annoyed by the rumors? People don't seem to like you as much as you thought." He said, shrugging and with an innocent smile on his face.
Harper stopped and turned slightly towards him. "Rumors? What the fuck are you talking about?" He approached at a brisk pace. "Parker, since yesterday you've had these stupid ideas in your head."
"Ideas? And here I was just thinking about helping you." He said, raising his phone towards Harper and showing an image forged the night before. Flash and Kong making fun of when he got hit in the game, Tiny saying what a fucking leader he was... Danny agreeing to throw his clothes in the toilet because he knew it was the only pair he had at the moment.
Harper frowned and held his phone tightly, his eyes fixed on the supposed conversation. He looked up at Peter, anger mixing with a hint of suspicion.
"How did you get this?" He asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
Peter shrugged, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner. "I overheard some conversations on my way to the computer room. Coincidentally, Kong had joined the group through one of the computers. It wasn't the first time that had happened. He was never very bright, you and I both know that."
Harper narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly. "And why are you showing me this? What's the matter with you, Parker?"
For a moment, Peter was silent, just watching Harper's face, now filled with doubt. Then he stepped forward, his voice low but full of intensity.
"I wasn't here the week those rumors started circulating. Honestly, I almost didn't believe it, and when I did I thought I'd just ignore it." He began "They may have agreed not to tell anyone between them, but they didn't say anything to me. Why should I care about keeping a secret from people I despise?"
He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Besides... I hate you. With all my might, I hate you."
Harper blinked, surprised by the sincerity, but not exactly affected. It would be almost strange if Peter didn't feel some sense of repulsion towards him.
"Just think: if I hadn't told you, you'd never have known. You'd live your school life in ignorance, in your cruel peace, thinking everything was fine. But by telling you, I took that away from you. Now you're upset, hurt, struggling... and that makes me incredibly happy."
Harper was silent for a few moments, just staring at Peter as he processed what he had heard. "... Did you send me those photos?"
Peter grimaced.
"What photos?"
"Don't lie to me, Parker." He threatened. "If it was you, tell me now."
Peter shook his head, again raising his phone.
"What photos? Did you forget you broke my camera?" He asked, taking a step back. "Besides, I don't even have your number. I'm not even in the class group, I don't have anyone's number. You can look if you want." He said, still holding the phone out towards him.
Harper took a step forward, and that's exactly what he did when he picked up Peter's phone. He looked at his phone, his contacts, he was even bold enough to go into the gallery and the trash can.
After a few moments, he practically pressed Peter's phone against his chest and walked away. He didn't look completely convinced... but Peter had planted his bomb.
Harper was a project in progress... he was leaving for another one at the moment.
Mary Jane grunted slightly as she stretched out in her chair. She shook her head gently and brought the pen to her lips, re-reading the text she had written.
She didn't like doing homework... but she liked failing even less. She might not be as good as Gwen, but when she tried hard, she wasn't far behind.
The quiet library... well, sort of quiet for the amount of students there.
She sighed as she realized she couldn't think of anything else to write. Not that she needed to, the text was fine as it was. Next to it, a biology textbook lay open, forgotten because of a previous homework assignment that she had already finished.
She picked up her cell phone, realizing that there were still a few minutes until the break was over. With that, she allowed herself to stay there for a while, trapped in her own world.
Peter entered the library quietly and found her easily. Not least because she was the only redhead in the whole school. At least, a redhead with such a fierce shade of hair. He hesitated for a moment before approaching, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and assuming a friendly expression.
"Oh, hey, Mary Jane." He approached amiably, putting on his normal nerdy Peter face. The girl arched a single eyebrow and raised her head. "I... sorry to bother you, but... the library's a bit full, and I don't know anyone else here. If it's not too much trouble, can I... sit here?"
He asked nervously, running a hand up the back of his neck as he looked at her.
"Oh, sure, no problem." She said, giving him a small smile. She never really interacted much with Peter, apart from the times he visited her house, but even on those occasions they didn't exchange more than a few words.
Peter sat down quietly, placing his backpack on the floor. He leaned over and picked up his notebook along with some books.
The girl went back to focusing on the music in her headphones and her cell phone, but soon looked up at the boy's homework in front of her.
"You're already doing your chemistry and physics homework?"" She asked suddenly, in mild curiosity, and Peter looked up. "We still have two weeks to do it."
"Oh, well, that's two weeks I won't have to worry about it then." He said, scribbling on the motion simulation of the physics assignment.
"Ha... that's something Gwen always says." She said, more to herself than to him.
"With good reason. I don't even want to touch this these weeks."
"No? But I thought you liked it." He smiled.
"That's exactly why I don't want to touch it. I have other projects at home. More interesting than research into sustainable polymers and testing alternative materials." He replied, finishing his scribble and pulling the book next to him closer.
"... This is so much a Gwen thing." She muttered, rolling her eyes, but in an amused way.
"Aren't you going to do yours?" He asked, momentarily stopping reading the material in the book.
"No... I'll do it later. I usually do this kind of work with Gwen." She replied, pausing the low music on her headphones.
"Really? I can help you." She arched an eyebrow at the proposal, and he merely shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "I'm already here anyway."
She stared at him for a few more moments, a glint of curiosity and confusion in her eyes.
"... Why?" she asked, and he shrugged again.
"No reason at all. Like I said, I'm already here." He replied, making light of it.
She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward slightly, leaving her cell phone at her side.
"I mean... I appreciate it, I just find it weird. Why would you-"
"Be so friendly and help out my personal bully's girlfriend?"" He interrupted her, with no real venom in his voice, but his firm tone made it clear that he was fully aware of what he was doing.
"... Well... ahm, yes, sort of." She said, apparently a little embarrassed.
"Although I have every reason to be annoyed with you, or avoid you in some way, my aunt is very fond of you and your mother." He said, tapping the pencil a few times gently against the notebook. "When... when my uncle was alive, they both liked to visit you, they always talked about the Watsons. After he died... well, I thought that, at the very least, we could have a friendly relationship. It's easier that way." He said, nodding to himself after finishing.
Mary Jane, for her part, continued to stare at him for a few seconds, feeling... well... a little guilty now.
"... Got it. Well... thank you, Peter, really. As I said, I do these jobs with Gwen. It's kind of become a habit." She replied gently, and he merely nodded.
"If you say so." He replied, turning his attention back to his notebook for a few moments. "So... you want to form a band?"
The girl almost choked on her own saliva, and her eyes widened slightly.
"Ahm... yes. How do you know?" Peter looked up again.
"As I said, Aunt May likes to talk about you. She mentioned it a few times." He replied, and she relaxed a little. It made sense... what did she expect?
"Yeah... we've had this band idea for so long that I gave up on it a while ago. Even now it feels like... it's just a silly dream." She said.
"Silly? I don't think so. Having a band is pretty cool." He said, returning his gaze to his book. "Not to mention that it takes courage."
She arched an eyebrow.
"You think so?"
"Of course. It's not as easy as some people might think. It takes time, dedication, consistency and a lot of training. Not to mention knowing how to use what you have. No point having talent if you don't know how to use it." He replied.
She, in turn, cracked a smile, pleasantly surprised.
"Well... that's nice of you to say. I wish more people thought that." She said.
"And they don't?" He asked, and she shook her head.
"No. Some even make fun of it. Even Flash... well, he didn't make fun, but he didn't seem very excited, he said it was a waste of time without luck and some connections." She said.
"Oh, trust me, I stopped listening to what Flash says a long time ago. It's more interesting trying to remember if he's ever managed to form a whole sentence without me losing a few brain cells." He said, not caring that he was insulting him in front of his girlfriend. In fact, he more than had the right to do so.
However, Mary Jane didn't seem to mind, she just snorted out a nasal laugh.
"He wouldn't like it very much hearing you say that."
"I didn't like it much when he hit me, but here we are." He said in an amused tone. "Besides, I've said worse in front of him."
"... Yeah, that you did." She said, shrugging shortly afterwards.
"Anyway... Aunt May always said you had an artistic vibe. So, what style is it? Rock? Pop?" She shook her head, relaxing a little more. He was surprisingly easy to talk to... not that she'd tried much before.
Maybe she should have.
"We're still deciding, but I think something more alternative rock, maybe something more punk. But the strongest idea is a mix, alternative rock with a bit of pop, pop-punk." She replied, and he nodded.
"Something more like Olivia Rodrigo?" Mary Jane arched an eyebrow in excited surprise.
"Do you listen to Olivia Rodrigo?" He nodded gently, not seeming to be a big deal.
"I do. I mean, her lyrics don't really suit me... as you can imagine. But I like her voice and the way she sings."
"Well, well... I didn't know you liked those styles Peter. Olivia Rodrigo is one of the recent inspirations, yes." She leaned her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.
"Oh, she's good. But honestly, between her and Adele, I'll take Adele any day of the week." She laughed a little.
"That's unfair, Olivia started less than two years ago. Adele has been in the industry for almost two decades." He shrugged dramatically.
"So what?"
"You have no tact. Anyone other than Adele?"
"Amy Winehouse." She widened her eyes in surprise, a smile appearing on her lips.
"You're lying."
"Super serious."
"Shit, Peter. Looks like you've got a bit of culture and good taste with you." She said, and he snorted a laugh.
"Not just Parker the weirdo?"
"In my defense, I never called you that."
"But you thought."
"... That's just a detail. I'm sorry that I find it strange that someone memorizes formulas for fun. Or for wearing ridiculously large clothes... by the way, why?" He just shrugged at the question.
"It's comfortable."
"Even in the heat?"
"You can't argue with taste." She let out a nasal laugh, nodding to herself, until her expression became a little more serious.
"Generally, people who wear baggy clothes, even in warmer temperatures, tend to hide-"
"Whoa, whoa, stop right there, wait. You don't think I'm cutting myself, do you?" He interrupted her as gently as he could.
"Me? No. But it seems that way. You know, with all the bullying, and now after all that situation with the police, your uncle..." She said, her voice getting lower with each word.
Peter just shook his head, pulling up the sleeve of his jacket and showing his forearms.
"No cuts." He said, and she agreed, no cuts. But she couldn't help but be surprised to see that Peter had very large forearms. Big, defined and veiny... she'd never noticed that before.
Maybe she really should have noticed him a bit more, then she wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he had great forearm genetics.
Or that he had similar taste in music.
Or that he was so easy to talk to.
"I'm not depressed. I just like baggy clothes... really." Peter said, rolling his sleeves back up.
"I believe you. For the record, I never thought you were. Just quiet." She said, leaning back in her chair and putting her cell phone back in her pocket.
"Anyway, back to your band. What did you say to Flash? Did he just say it was silly and leave it at that?" She lowered her head slightly at the question.
"... He doesn't know, exactly, that I'm going to be in the band." She admitted, and Peter arched an eyebrow, confused.
"What do you mean? You said you told him and he thought it was a waste of time."
"Yes, but... I didn't exactly say I'd be in it, I just said I was helping Liz and now Gwen."
Peter nodded, keeping his tone casual.
"... I really don't understand." He said, shaking his head at himself and acquiring a complex expression, as if he were trying to understand a confusing equation. "I mean, I don't mean to pry, but it sounds like something important to you. He should support you. You're boyfriend and girlfriend." It wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, he wanted to ask the same question he'd asked Gwen.
Why was someone like her with someone like Flash? The guy had no qualities whatsoever, apart, of course, from his looks and physical ability. But what he had in physical ability, he lacked in brains.
Mary Jane hesitated, biting her lip slightly. "Maybe. It's just that... sometimes things get suffocating at home, and Flash has a way of making me feel free. Except, at the same time, he makes it seem like the things I want don't matter so much." She said, admitting more than Peter knew.
As far as he knew, she and her mother had a great relationship. And he never heard any shouting, any arguments between the two of them... not that he tried to, of course, it was just that sometimes he ended up listening more than necessary on many occasions with many different people.
... Her father, however, wasn't exactly a good father or husband, as far as he could remember. Maybe she was talking about that?
"It's a shame. Maybe you shouldn't encourage him in Muay Tai too." He said, drawing a confused grimace from the girl, who shook her head before looking at him.
"That's something he's trying very hard to achieve."
"The same as you. And as far as I know, you're not going against your 'coach's' words to feel superior to others. He shouldn't go around getting into fights or trouble. Why should you care if he himself isn't doing much to preserve what he has?"
He asked. They stared at each other for a while, in silence, Mary Jane in a clear kind of reflection and doubt, until Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I'm sorry if I was too direct. You know I'm not his biggest fan. I just think it's a shame that someone like you is being held down by someone like him." He shook his head as he said it, putting away his materials in the meantime.
The girl was silent for a few moments, clearly lost in thought. Peter took advantage of the pause to stand up, adjusting his backpack again.
"Anyway, good luck with the band." He said with a smile. "And if you need any help with anything, like ideas or technical support, let me know. I may not know much about bands in general, but I'm sure I can create sound equipment with parts much cheaper than you can find on the internet." He pointed a finger gun at her, smiling amiably.
Mary Jane shook her head, coming back to reality, but still thinking about what he'd said. "Right, ok... thanks, Peter. It was nice talking to you." Mary Jane replied, offering a small smile.
Maybe she should talk to him... or see more about what he really does when she turns her back.
Peter walked away, satisfied.
That evening, his aunt asked to have dinner together. He took a little longer for his night out. He was sitting on the edge of a tall building, with a pizza box next to him and a half-eaten piece in his hand.
He chewed slowly while listening to the pops and squeaks of the police radio, tuned to a small device he had built. News of petty crimes, chases and emergencies were broadcast in a rather irritating noise.
As he ate, he arched an eyebrow at the sudden change of tone in the news he was watching on his cell phone. A more formal voice than usual was reporting an incident at Oscorp.
"...Oscorp doctors killed in attack. Preliminary reports indicate that confidential projects were stolen and Norman Osborn was injured, but is now in stable condition..." He frowned slightly. Oscorp was always in the middle of something big, whether it was technological advances, somewhat dangerous experiments, or perhaps the quest to improve the quality of human life. In all those years, this was the first incident he had seen happen at Oscorp.
Despite his curiosity, he just shrugged. The police were already involved... which wasn't very comforting, but Oscorp was a billionaire company, they would hire the best, there was no point in him getting involved.
His last target was almost upon him, the mayor's aide. This man had been involved in many corruption schemes involving politicians and criminals in the city, as well as being responsible for covering up not only Marvin, but some of his other little "friends" a few years ago. He needed to be exposed. After throwing the empty pizza box aside, he shot a web at the building in front of him and started swinging around the city.
As he passed through a more secluded area, the sounds of the city changed. The noise of horns and crowds was replaced by silence broken only by the rumble of a few cars. Peter landed on a low roof, adjusting his mask out of habit. It was then that he heard something strange.
Voices coming from a restaurant below, which wouldn't exactly be strange, but the fact that they were whispering threats in a restaurant that should have been closed for the night was curious to say the least.
"... Abuela... you know what happens if you don't pay. " A low male voice, subtly issuing a threat, hung in the air. "We've already made that clear, not a week, not a day more. Nobody wants this to become a problem for you or your family."
"I told you, sir. Business is slow, few come here with the situation on the streets. The poor lighting, the robberies nearby, there's no security-" A frightened lady, a little shaky.
"Are you saying it's our fault?" Another voice cut in. Peter leaned closer, trying to identify the source. From his position, he could see a police car parked in front of the restaurant. It confused him. If there were police there, why weren't they intervening?
There was another police car just around the corner, three officers talking to each other... what the fuck was going on?
"Time is money." Replied the first voice, impatiently. "Your restaurant hasn't been robbed, your son walks at night without any problems, aren't we doing enough? It's quite simple, you pay us, we protect you... are we going to have to let this place be invaded for you to understand?"
The tone of the words was unmistakable. Extortion. Peter narrowed his eyes... seriously. He moved silently to a better position, sticking to the side of the building to look out of the window. Inside, two men in police uniforms were leaning against a table, staring at an older woman who appeared to be the owner of the restaurant. Her expression was one of fear, tiredness and she kept her head down in submission.
Peter felt anger bubble up. Corrupt police. Haven't they learned anything from recent events?
It never seemed to fucking end!
Peter landed silently in front of the restaurant. He adjusted his mask and calmly entered the restaurant, silently, he left the door open and ran his eyes around, none of them seemed to notice him there.
He approached with silent steps, and only then attracted the attention of the woman, who widened her eyes in surprise and fear at the sight of him. The two officers realized this and tried to turn around, but Peter wrapped his arm around each of their necks, pulling them into a kind of "friendly" hug.
"Hey, gentlemen of the law! Is this a new kind of tax or have you solved the crime problem... by being the criminals... what a Plot Twist!" He said dramatically, quickly pulling the guns from both officers and throwing them away.
He grabbed the man on his right by the neck and threw him backwards, hard, sending him flying out of the restaurant. The other man tried futilely to break free of his grip, Spider-man merely snorted at the futile attempts and lifted him up with just one arm.
"Abuela, it's time to close this place... and don't worry about them. I'll solve your problem." He said, before turning and walking out of the restaurant still holding the man above the ground.
He closed the door gently after leaving, and threw the officer towards the first officer he had thrown, causing them both to fall heavily to the ground.
The sound of heavy footsteps coming from the street made Spider-Man turn around. Three more officers were running towards him, guns drawn. Spider-Man shot his web at the cop on his right, pulling him towards him with force. The man flew towards him, his gun falling to the ground as he did so. In the air, Spider-Man grabs him by the neck and throws him to the ground with some violence, expelling all the air from his lungs.
"What is this? A party?" He asked loudly, turning to the other officers. They seemed hesitant to shoot... he suspected it was because of the few civilians on the streets at the moment.
"Put your hands up or we'll be forced to shoot!" The only female police officer said, and Peter merely cocked his head to one side.
"You're like Robin Hood in reverse, aren't you? You steal from the poor to... well, just steal." He joked, taking a few steps towards them. As he did so, they fired.
Spider-Man's eyes widened slightly and he tilted his body to the side, dodging the first shots. He then jumped to the side and shot two webs, one upwards and the other towards the policewoman's gun, disarming her.
Shooting a web towards the ground, he advanced, hitting the last standing officer with a strong punch to the face, sending him to the ground. He spun around and hit the woman with a kick to the side of the head, sending her crashing into the building with some force.
He turned and pinned the policemen to the ground with his webbing, shaking his head.
"I should tie you together and put you all in the back of the police car... and by the way, do you know what else has flashing lights and makes noise? A children's party clown. And honestly, you're competing well with it!" Spider-Man joked, ignoring some nearby civilians.
He thought about actually putting them in the car, however, his instincts screamed, his eyes widened, and his body instinctively jumped up at the sign of danger.
However, whatever tried to attack him was either too fast, or it was more than one, as he felt himself being hit while still in the air. He was thrown with a force he had never felt before, through the air and into the building across the street. The concrete shattered around him as he fell to the ground with a groan of pain, pieces falling around him along with pieces of glass from the now-destroyed window.
Spider-Man tried to get up, but a tall, hooded figure was already upon him. The man wore a black suit with shiny metallic details, holding some kind of electric baton. Behind him, other figures watched him through the hole he had made in the wall.
Spider-man gasped as he felt himself being grabbed and thrown upwards, however, he shot a web to the floor, preventing himself from going too high, and advanced against the hooded figure, hitting him with a kick to the head and practically burying him in the concrete.
Who the fuck are these people?
Shots were fired in his direction, and he was on the move before the sound of breaking glass had finished echoing. He shot a web at one of the mercenaries on the ground, pulling the gun from his hands and attaching it to a nearby post. He tried to advance now that the man was unarmed, but to his surprise, the bullets from the guns of the other three mercenaries seemed to follow him, literally curving through the air and advancing towards him at a constant speed, forcing Spider-Man to retreat.
He shot a series of webs towards the figures in an attempt to stop the growing number of projectiles while dodging and jumping between the buildings as best he could, but one bullet cut through the fabric of his clothing on his arm, leaving a shallow cut.
"Bullets chasing me, that's a new one!" He said/shouted, snatching a lamppost from the ground and throwing it towards the three figures, who were forced to dodge. "Not confident in your aim? You should invest in shooting lessons... or perhaps ethics. Both seem to be lacking."
He joked, ducking after a huge chunk of concrete flew towards him, and his attention turned to the first hooded man who had attacked him earlier. "What are you? Hired mercenaries? You're too fancy for some gang, someone very powerful must be scared of good old spidey here."
He joked again, advancing against the man after a strong jump, attempting a kick to his head. The man dodged to the side and countered with a kick towards Spider-Man's chest, who grabbed the man's leg with his hand.
However, the force behind the blow was much stronger than he had expected, causing him to stagger backwards. Whoever that guy was, he was wearing some kind of exoskeleton... incomplete? Prototype? Maybe, but certainly showing signs of efficiency.
The man tried to attack him with the electric baton. Spider-Man dodged by simply ducking. His instincts screamed again and he leapt into the air, propelling himself across the street after the bullets from the shots began to follow him again.
As he did so, however, his eyes widened slightly when he saw a grenade right at his feet. He picked it up and threw it into the air. The explosion was certainly loud and uncomfortable, temporarily disorienting him and leaving him exposed to another burst of gunfire.
He dodged at the last moment, feeling the side and front of his torso cut by shots that grazed him.
"Being a mercenary isn't cheap, is it? I can see that training wasn't included in the package." He joked again, shooting his webs between one of the mercenaries in particular, pulling himself back and letting himself be thrown towards the man, who wasn't quick enough to dodge and was hit full on by a kick to his chest, which threw him violently backwards, knocked out.
Spider-Man braced himself against the wall, his eyes turning to where the man had fallen, he had tried to hold back as much as he could... the man was still alive, but his ribcage had at least 7 or 8 broken ribs and the rest cracked... he would be in hospital for a long time.
His instincts screamed again, and he jumped to the side after the pole he had thrown earlier was thrown in his direction.
On the ground, he focused his gaze on another of the mercenaries, who was now advancing towards him with a Desert Eagle in hand. Spider-Man dodged the shots while taking a few steps back, and after seeing an opening, he shot a web into the mercenary's face, temporarily blinding him.
He took the opportunity to pull the man towards him and hit him with a strong punch to the face, followed by a punch to the stomach, and finally threw him to the ground after grabbing him by the back of the head, knocking him out on impact.
The sound of rotors filled the air before he could do anything else. Spider-Man looked up, muttering lowly as he did so. A combat helicopter hovered above, with more weapons than he could count. The helicopter fired a hail of projectiles, forcing the boy to jump to the side. The explosions left holes in the asphalt and threw shards of concrete through the air.
As he did so, the man with the exoskeleton advanced towards him. He threw a punch that the boy barely managed to dodge, the impact shattering the concrete where he had been standing a second before.
Spider-Man jumped back, shooting out webs to try and trap the mercenary's arms. But, as he had thought, the exoskeleton made it possible for the man to simply tear away his webs and move forward again.
The man jumped up and raised his arms above his head, trying to smash the boy against the concrete. Spider-Man, for his part, dodged by jumping backwards. The concrete shattered with the force of the blow, sending pieces flying everywhere.
Spider-Man shot a web at the building above and swung himself towards the man, landing a powerful kick to his enemy's stomach, knocking him away.
Spider-Man shot a web at the man and, spinning his body around, threw him hard at the last mercenary standing. The mercenary's body crashed heavily into his companion, and they both fell hard to the ground.
He jumped back after the helicopter shot towards him again. In the air, he shot a web at the helicopter and began to pull. The vehicle rocked, temporarily stopping the machine gun. But, of course, nothing could go right.
A missile was fired in his direction, and Spider-man's eyes widened. He jumped up and shot a web at the building next to him, quickly leaving the area of the huge explosion that happened on the ground.
"Crazy bastards!" He shouted angrily as he saw the damage the explosion had caused.
He shot a web towards the helicopter again, dodging another burst of gunfire and pulling himself towards it with impressive speed.
He landed on the side of the cabin, breaking the glass with a well-placed punch before entering.
The two armed operators turned to him in surprise. The first tried to raise his weapon, but Spider-Man disarmed him by grabbing his forearm and breaking it with a hard spin, finishing him off with a kick to the chest. The second drew a Desert Eagle, but the boy shot a web at the weapon, pinning it to the wall before hitting him with a punch to the face.
"Who sent you? And please don't say 'nobody'. Even I'm not that lonely." He thought for a few moments. "Actually, forget it..."
He grabbed the man by the neck, watching him with a cold stare from behind his mask. The man didn't respond immediately, he just made the idiotic attempt to punch him. Spider-Man merely grabbed the man's hand and twisted it to the side, breaking his wrist in one slight movement.
"Wrong answer." He hummed. "Let's make this short: you tell me who sent you and I promise not to make jokes about how you shoot like a Stormtrooper, because seriously, your aim is so bad that even the GPS must get lost along the way."
He shook his head, squeezing a little harder on the man's broken wrist, which screamed loudly in pain.
"Argh, fuck! Stop! Nobody sent us, okay?!" The man shouted, and Spider-Man softened his grip. "There's a prize on your head! At first, we weren't going to take it, but all our equipment would be 'on the house', so we had no reason not to after that."
"I figured those little toys weren't yours. Right, who put that reward on my-" His voice was interrupted when the helicopter suddenly shook strongly. The control panel began to flash and an annoying beeping sounded every two seconds.
He dropped the man and looked out of the helicopter. The man with the exoskeleton... was standing there, just watching them, before he turned and started running away.
Spider-Man even momentarily thought about going after him. However, as he saw the avenue near the center approaching faster and faster and the civilians below getting bigger and bigger, he dismissed the idea.
"... Shit." He grumbled, running to the control panel. Despite his technical knowledge, flying a helicopter was not in his repertoire.
"Can you do anything?!" He asked the man, who shook his head.
"I can't! We've suffered a lot of damage to the rear, the controls are broken! I advise you to brace yourself for impact!"
The helicopter dived towards the street, Spider-Man shot a web at the nearest building, anchoring it firmly before jumping out of the helicopter. As he fell, he launched more webs in opposite directions, forming a kind of net between the buildings.
As strong as his webs were, the speed, mixed with the weight of the helicopter, not to mention the still-functional propellers, was more than enough to get through the web with some ease.
"Ah, shit!" He grunted in despair as he saw the propellers smash through the windows of some buildings, fragments of concrete and glass cascading down, forcing the pedestrians below to run in panic.
Spider-Man threw himself behind the falling aircraft, firing webs to try to redirect its movement. But the helicopter continued to spin, dragging itself against the side of another building, knocking down a large glass façade that fell in pieces onto the street. Cars honked their horns as drivers tried to flee the area.
When the helicopter finally hit the ground, it began to glide down the street, trailing sparks as it moved towards a row of parked vehicles. Spider-Man landed on the ground with a jump and shot out two webs, clinging to the back of the helicopter as he dug his feet into the asphalt, trying to slow down.
He was strong, more than he knew, but the force of the helicopter was pulling him with intensity. His arms and legs began to shake as he struggled to maintain control, the concrete beneath his feet cracking as he was pulled along.
He grunted again and shot more webs at nearby buildings to create leverage. The aircraft finally began to slow down, but it was still moving. In an opening moment, he leapt onto the helicopter, shooting webs at the buildings on both sides of the street. He pulled, grunting slightly as he lifted the aircraft, redirecting it upwards. Finally, the helicopter stopped spinning, its propellers disengaging with a metallic hiss.
The aircraft was now suspended between two buildings, tethered firmly by the webs. The boy descended gently, his eyes focused on the pilot. He was about to go over there to continue his questioning, but one look at the streets was enough to make him forget that idea. The streets were full of debris, cars were damaged or destroyed by all the chaos, and of course, unfortunate people were injured.
He heard groans and screams coming from pedestrians trapped among the rubble or injured in some way. Quickly jumping to the ground, he approached a cab smashed against the sidewalk. The driver was trapped, the side of the vehicle completely mangled.
The boy grabbed the twisted door and pulled, ripping it off with a metallic screech. He held out his hand to the man.
"Are you all right, sir?" He asked after holding the man, his eyes scanning him quickly. He looked wounded in his left arm, a cut caused by the deformed metal... but otherwise, he was fine.
"Yes... yes... it could be worse. Jesus, I almost got crushed. Thank you."
He thanked him as he got out of the vehicle, taking a few short, awkward steps as he moved onto the sidewalk, still staring at the vigilante's mask.
"Clean the cut and cover it with some bandages. There'll be a scar, but you'll be fine." Spider-Man said, nodding to him before moving away. Not far away, his gaze focused on a woman trying to pull a child out from under a fallen piece of concrete.
He approached quickly, attracting the attention of civilians who were trying to help her. Without saying anything, he easily lifted the piece of concrete, allowing the woman to pull the child out. Miraculously, the boy wasn't hurt... the concrete hung slightly over the side of the building, which prevented the child from being crushed.
"Anyone hurt?" He asked the small crowd, who stared at him somewhat uncertainly. After receiving no response, he merely nodded and jumped away. He heard the woman thanking him, and although it felt good to hear it, he just ignored it for now.
More people were trapped or injured, and he didn't stop. He used his webbing to remove smaller pieces of debris, his strength to clear a path through the larger ones. He worked quickly and efficiently. There were people with minor injuries, medium injuries... but, miraculously, no one with serious injuries. All things considered, no one died.
At one point, he heard the sound of sirens arriving. Ambulances and police... he looked around once more. What he could help with, he had helped with... now he could leave the situation to the "professionals".
He'd even stay longer, but he wasn't really looking forward to seeing more police tonight. Shooting a web towards the nearest building, he quickly climbed up, disappearing into the shadows.
He needed to sleep... and eat... a lot. Something he did after paying a visit to the cops from earlier and saying "nicely" that if he heard of any more extortion cases anywhere else in the city, he'd break a few bones in the police department.
Of course, all very politely.
Norman's office was lit only by the dim light of a desk lamp. Papers and folders were scattered across the surface of the oak desk, bottles of drink were strewn about with a mess that indicated anxiety or haste, but the man sitting behind it was calm, almost relaxed. His fingers drummed on the arm of the armchair as he stared at the laptop screen, where a video call was about to start.
When the image of the Department of Defense representative appeared, Norman smiled.
"Mr. Osborn." The man on the other end greeted him, adjusting the camera. "I hope we have good news about the progress of the project."
Norman leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table and bringing his hands together in front of his face. "Good news? Well, the news is excellent. The project was an absolute success."
The representative raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "That's... surprising, considering the delay we've had over the last few weeks. Are you saying that the prototype is functional?"
"More than functional." Norman replied, his voice firm with confidence. "It's ready for field application. Of course, I understand that this is a departure from the usual protocol, but I think it would benefit everyone if we organized a meeting with the generals from the high command. A more direct environment to demonstrate the real potential."
On the other side of the screen, the representative hesitated. "Mr. Osborn, we don't have that kind of meeting without prior approval. And you know we're still waiting for the final technical reports."
Norman laughed, a low, almost contemptuous sound. "Reports are to convince you of something that hasn't yet been proven. But what I have here is living proof. If you want guarantees that the money you've invested is producing results, I suggest you make it easier to contact the generals. After all, the sooner they see the results, the sooner we can move on to the next phase."
The man's hesitation was visible. He looked away for a moment, clearly considering the implications. "Well, I'll see what I can do. But, Mr. Osborn, any kind of demonstration outside of protocol could raise questions. That's not something we take lightly."
"Neither do I." Norman replied quickly, his voice becoming a little firmer. "We're talking about something that could revolutionize the battlefield. Something that could ensure military supremacy for decades to come. This is no time to hesitate now."
The pressure worked. The man nodded slowly. "I'll contact the high command and organize something preliminary. But I need guarantees, Mr. Osborn. If that fails..."
"Please..." Norman interrupted, leaning even closer to the camera. His eyes glowed with intensity. "It won't fail. I guarantee it."
When the call ended, Norman reclined in his chair, letting out a low laugh that echoed through the office.
He stood up calmly, grabbing one of the bottles of booze as he walked towards his private laboratory at home.
When he arrived, the door to the lab opened automatically, revealing a space full of stolen technology. Benches with glowing instruments, monitors showing real-time graphics and glass capsules containing prototype suits and experimental equipment. In the center, the main suit was suspended from a special structure.
Norman approached the suit, running his fingers over its metallic surface. Small improvements had already been implemented: energy shields for greater resistance, quieter thrusters and an even deadlier arsenal of hidden weapons. Plus a faster glider.
He turned, walking towards a secluded section of the laboratory. There, additional projects were on display, each more ambitious and dangerous than the last. He walked over to the first, an immense metal structure with articulated segments that simulated the shape of a tail.
The suit adapted very well to the host... or rather, the host adapted very well to the suit.
Norman typed a few commands into the keyboard, and the screen lit up with technical specifications. Super strength, increased speed, improved endurance. The tail, reinforced with cutting-edge materials, could pierce solid steel and contain doses of experimental neurotoxins. Another military project... one that wouldn't fall into their hands.
He used part of that suit as inspiration for the main suit. With that in mind, he raised the bottle of drink and took a generous swig, then approached a monitor that displayed images and reports of a figure that had captured his curiosity: Spider-Man. Scenes from security cameras, reports of encounters and even estimated physiological data.
He had spent a few days studying up on the vigilante, ever since he heard about him. Super strength, speed, endurance. Enhanced reflexes. He tilted his head, his eyes fixed on the screen. There was someone with all the traits that the serum he was trying to develop was supposed to provide. And apparently without any side effects, no brutality or loss of control.
"Nothing artificial... everything natural. Perfect." He touched the display, enlarging an image of the vigilante in action.
How had he been created? It didn't look like some other company's experiment, he knew that no company would let something with such potential just swing around free playing hero.
An accident? Where? At Oscorp? He would remember that, so it was impossible.
He needed to study this.
Control it.
Norman leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. The idea of bringing Spider-Man to his side was tempting. An ally with those skills would be invaluable in taking and keeping Oscorp on top.
"... Strong enough to have it all..." He whispered to himself, looking at the notification instead, the place where their meeting would take place written on the screen of the device.