Spider-Bat: New Way Home
Chapter 28: Working Class Hero
Peter woke up a minute before his alarm was set to buzz. Today was his first day at Midtown High School, and the mix of nervous anticipation kept him wide-eyed. It was a far cry from the private school he had attended back in Gotham, where he and Bruce had been groomed alongside the children of Gotham's elite. Here, Peter wasn't sure what to expect, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.
After getting dressed, there was a gentle knock at his bedroom door. "Peter? I made eggs and bacon if you're hungry," Aunt May's soft voice called out.
Peter paused for a moment. Southern-style breakfast wasn't something he was accustomed to; back at Wayne Manor, Alfred usually prepared a sophisticated spread of fruits, pastries, and finely crafted omelets. Still, Peter knew better than to refuse. His aunt and uncle had gone out of their way to make him feel at home, and the least he could do was accept their hospitality.
At the kitchen table, Peter sat quietly as Aunt May placed a plate of food in front of him. The smell of sizzling bacon was oddly comforting. Across the table, Uncle Ben was hunched over the newspaper, circling job ads in the help wanted section with a pen.
"Everything okay?" Peter asked, his gaze lingering on the newspaper.
Ben let out a heavy sigh, glancing up with a weak smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, though his tone betrayed him. "The plant's closing down. They're shipping the jobs to Mexico. Thirty years on the floor, and just like that... poof, gone."
Peter frowned, his mind racing. "I could call Alfred," he offered. "Ask him if we can break my trust fund early. I mean, if it'll help..."
Ben immediately waved the suggestion off, shaking his head. "No, no, kiddo. That trust fund is for your college tuition. You're going to need that. Trust me, college isn't cheap. We'll be fine." He leaned back, forcing a smile. "They're giving me a severance package for all my years. Plus, if it comes to it, I can always pull early social security. We'll manage."
Peter could tell Uncle Ben was trying to downplay the situation, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable. Even so, Peter decided not to press the issue.
After breakfast, Peter grabbed his bookbag and headed for the door, ready to catch the bus. As he passed the kitchen trash can, he noticed it was full and figured he'd take it out back to the alleyway.
"Gotta earn my keep," Peter muttered to himself with a small smile, hauling the trash out to the bins.
But just as he tossed the bag into the can and dusted his hands off, he heard the distant rumble of an engine. Turning back toward the street, he saw his bus pulling up to the curb.
"Crap!" Peter exclaimed, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder and bolting for the street.
The moment his sneakers hit the pavement out front, the bus was already starting to pull away. Peter waved his arms frantically and shouted for the driver to stop, but it was no use. The driver, unfamiliar with Peter and cautious about stopping for strangers in Queens, drove on.
Peter came to a halt, panting as the bus disappeared down the block. He groaned, looking back toward the trash cans in the alley.
"No good deed goes unpunished," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his bookbag. Now, he'd have to figure out another way to school—and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.
Peter hesitated for a moment, considering going back inside to ask his Uncle Ben for a ride. But when he peered through the kitchen window, he saw Aunt May holding Ben, comforting him. They were clearly still upset about the job situation, and Peter didn't want to add to their worries. He decided against it. It was a nice enough day out, and walking to school wouldn't hurt.
About five minutes into his walk, Peter's spider-sense tingled. Before he could fully process the warning, a flashy red convertible roared past him, its engine obnoxiously loud. A blonde-haired jerk in the passenger seat leaned out, laughing, and hurled a soda can at Peter.
Peter's reflexes kicked in, and he snatched the can midair just as it was about to hit his face. Unfortunately, the soda splashed him anyway, leaving sticky drops trickling down his cheek. Peter clenched his teeth, tempted to shoot a web at the car and teach the guy a lesson. But he quickly shook the thought off—using his powers here would only cause a scene.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, found a trash can nearby, and tossed the soda can in. That's when a police car pulled up next to him.
A voice called out from the passenger seat. "Throwing away litter? We don't get too many people willing to do that around here."
Peter turned to see Captain George Stacy leaning out the window. Driving the car was none other than Frank Castle, and in the backseat sat a blonde-haired girl, one of the prettiest Peter had ever seen. Her golden hair framed her face perfectly, and her bright blue eyes sparkled in the morning sun.
"Missed the bus?" Captain Stacy asked.
"Yeah," Peter replied sheepishly. "First day at a new school, and I'm already off to a rough start."
"Hop in," Stacy insisted. "We're on our way to drop off my daughter, Gwen. You two go to the same school. Same grade, even."
Peter hesitated for only a second before climbing into the backseat. He figured showing up to school with someone like Gwen couldn't hurt.
As they drove, Captain Stacy tried to break the ice. "So, how are you finding Queens so far? I know it's a bit different from the outskirts of Gotham City, but it has its perks once you get used to it."
Peter nodded. "I'm adjusting. My aunt and uncle are doing their best to help me settle in."
"That's good to hear." Captain Stacy smiled before smacking his forehead lightly. "Oh, I almost forgot to introduce you properly. Gwen, this is Peter. He just moved in next to your friend, Mary Jane."
Gwen turned to Peter, flashing him a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, Peter."
Peter felt his face heat up. He wasn't exactly experienced when it came to talking to girls, especially ones as beautiful as Gwen. "Thanks," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Gwen giggled softly, clearly amused by his bashfulness.
To distract himself, Peter shifted his focus to Frank. "So, how are you liking Queens?"
Frank glanced at Peter in the rearview mirror, his expression stoic. "Not much different than Chicago," he replied curtly.
Captain Stacy nudged him playfully. "C'mon, Frank, lighten up."
Frank sighed and added, "I'm heading back to Chicago next week for a family reunion. After that, my wife and kids are joining me here. My daughter's a bit younger than you, and my son's nine."
Peter nodded, sensing that was as much small talk as Frank was willing to entertain.
A few minutes later, the car pulled into the school's parking lot. Peter immediately noticed the flashy convertible that had sped past him earlier, now parked prominently in front.
Captain Stacy followed Peter's gaze. "Nice car," he commented. "Too bad the boy who drives it isn't so nice."
"Ew, Flash Thompson," Gwen muttered, rolling her eyes. "I don't get what M.J. sees in him."
Peter furrowed his brow. "M.J.?" he asked, confused.
Before Gwen could explain, a beautiful red-haired girl climbed out of the convertible and ran over to the police car. "Hey, Gwen!" she called out, smiling brightly. "Come check out Flash's new car!"
Gwen sighed and stepped out of the car reluctantly. Peter followed her lead, hoping to walk into school with Gwen. But as Mary Jane pulled Gwen toward the convertible, Peter realized he'd be walking alone.
"Love you, sweetie! See you after school!" Captain Stacy called out as the police car pulled away.
"Love you, Dad!" Gwen replied, waving before turning back to Mary Jane.
Captain Stacy gave Flash a cold, pointed glare as they drove past. Flash shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes.
As the car disappeared down the road, Flash's attention turned to Peter, who was walking toward the school building. "Who's the dork you showed up with?" Flash sneered.
"His name's Peter," Gwen shot back. "Don't pick on him, Flash. My dad told me his parents were murdered not too long ago."
Flash raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely uncomfortable, before brushing it off with a shrug. Flash seemed like he might've seen Peter from somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place where. Peter, overhearing the exchange, kept walking, determined to survive his first day at Midtown High.
Peter had kept to himself for most of the morning, keeping his head down and focusing on his classes. It wasn't until lunchtime that he spotted a familiar face.
"Harry?" Peter called out, surprised.
Harry glanced at him but didn't stop walking. His expression was cold, distant.
Peter hurried after him, weaving through the crowded cafeteria. "Hey, Harry! It's me—"
"I know who you are," Harry interrupted, his voice sharp. He didn't slow down.
Peter hesitated for a second before pressing on. "Harry, listen, I—"
"What the hell happened at Oscorp?" Harry suddenly snapped, spinning around to face him. His voice was quiet, but full of anger. "I thought you were going to stay hidden until my father left. I didn't think you were going to burn the place down."
Peter froze. He had hoped they could just pick up where they left off, but it was clear Harry wasn't ready to let the past go.
Harry was talking about that night at Oscorp—the night everything went wrong. Peter had met him there in secret to ask about his connection to the genetically-altered spider named Petey. But before they could get any answers, Norman Osborn had caught them on camera. He had ordered Harry to leave while Peter tried to slip away unseen.
But Norman had known Peter was there the whole time.
He and Karl Fiers had been waiting. And when Peter tried to escape, they had captured him, restraining him in one of Oscorp's hidden labs. Norman had planned to extract any trace of symbiote left in Peter's DNA from birth and transfer it into another prisoner—Phillip Sterns. But something went wrong. Peter's spider-enhanced venom had reacted violently to the experiment, causing a catastrophic failure.
Phillip lost his mind. The lab went up in flames.
Peter barely escaped, fleeing as fire and chaos consumed the facility. Norman, Karl, and Phillip were never seen again after that night.
"Harry, I never meant—" Peter started, but Harry wasn't listening.
He shook his head, eyes filled with something between resentment and disappointment. "Forget it, Peter," he muttered. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.
Peter stood there for a long moment, the weight of the past pressing down on him. He had lost his parents. He had lost his old life. And now, it seemed, he had lost one of his only friends too.
Peter kept his head low for the rest of the day, Harry's harsh words playing over and over in his mind like a broken record. No matter how much he tried to focus on class or his surroundings, the guilt weighed heavily on him. He couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, Harry was right to be upset.
When school let out, Peter trudged toward the bus stop, still distracted by the lingering sting of the confrontation. To his surprise, his Uncle Ben was there, leaning casually against the car, waving him down.
"How was your first day of school, Pete?" Ben asked with his usual warmth, though his keen eyes studied Peter carefully.
Peter glanced toward the sidewalk and spotted Harry walking away in the opposite direction, his back turned to him. "It went... okay, I guess," Peter replied, the weight in his voice betraying his thoughts.
Ben clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Keep your head up, pal. It'll get better once you make a few friends. Trust me, I know it's tough being the new kid."
Peter nodded, appreciating the encouragement even if it didn't fully land.
"I'm heading to the market. Figured I'd stop by and grab you on the way," Ben said, opening the car door.
Just as Peter stepped toward the car, his spider-sense exploded like an alarm in his head. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and the faint buzz of a motor reached his ears. He froze, trying to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. Around him, students were beginning to murmur and look up at the sky.
Ben followed their gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun. "What the hell is that?" he muttered.
Peter turned to look, his enhanced vision zooming in on a fast-approaching object in the sky. His heart sank. "Is that... the glider from Oscorp?" he whispered under his breath.
The sleek, menacing craft tore through the air, leaving a vapor trail behind it. A figure in green and purple armor stood atop it, balancing effortlessly. The glider's trajectory zeroed in on Peter.
"PARKER!" the figure roared, his voice distorted but unmistakably filled with rage.
Ben flinched, glancing at Peter with confusion. "Why's he calling out my name?"
Peter didn't answer; his eyes were locked on the maniacal figure. He spotted something in the glider pilot's hand—a small, fiery object. His heart dropped.
"Ben, look out!" Peter yelled, but his uncle had already moved, pushing Peter out of the way.
The fiery object—a pumpkin-shaped bomb—hurtled toward them. Ben turned back, realizing too late that he was directly in its path. Peter acted on instinct, flinging his bookbag into the air to intercept the bomb. The explosion was deafening, a fiery burst that sent a shockwave rippling through the area.
Ben shielded his face with his arms, stumbling back. When the smoke cleared, his hands were red and sore, but otherwise, he seemed unharmed.
"Ben!" Peter ran to his side, panic etched across his face.
"I'm fine," Ben said, cradling his hands. "Just a little burnt, but I'll be okay. How about you?"
"I'm okay, thanks to you," Peter replied, his voice trembling. He looked up, his sharp eyes tracking the glider as it circled back for another pass.
But before the madman could make his move, the crack of gunfire split the air. Peter turned to see Captain Stacy and Frank Castle standing nearby, pistols drawn. They must have been there to pick up Gwen from school.
The pilot of the glider hesitated but seemed undeterred, angling for another attack. Frank narrowed his eyes, aiming with precision. He fired a single shot that struck the glider's main engine.
Sparks erupted from the damaged engine, and the glider wobbled dangerously, careening toward the ground before the pilot barely managed to stabilize it. Realizing the fight wasn't in his favor, the figure on the glider veered away, retreating into the distance.
Everyone was left stunned, murmurs rippling through the gathered students.
"What just happened?" someone asked.
Peter turned back to Ben, who was wincing as he inspected his hands.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Peter asked, worry etched into his face.
Ben gave him a reassuring smile, despite the pain. "I've been through worse, kid. You don't need to worry about me."
But Peter couldn't help it. In that moment, he realized just how far Ben was willing to go to protect him. His uncle wasn't just a caregiver—he was a true guardian, someone who would risk everything for him.
Peter clenched his fists, staring into the horizon where the glider had disappeared. Whoever that was, whatever they wanted—it wasn't over. Not yet.
Later that night, Peter sat on his bed, his mind racing as he replayed the attack over and over again. The glider. The madman in green and purple. The fiery explosion. His uncle pushing him out of harm's way.
He had only just moved in with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and already, he had put them in danger. That was the part that gnawed at him the most. Uncle Ben still believed the attack had been meant for him, but Peter knew the truth—whoever that maniac was, he had been after him.
Peter clenched his fists. He had to do something. He couldn't sit back and wait for another ambush. If he was going to keep his new family safe, he needed to go on the defensive. But how?
His eyes wandered to his desk, where a comic book lay on top of his scattered homework. Uncle Ben had left it there for him earlier. Peter reached over and picked it up, flipping through the pages absentmindedly—until he stopped at an image of Captain America, shield raised high, standing defiantly against overwhelming odds.
Peter stared at the page. And then, like a lightning bolt striking his brain, an idea hit him.
If he was going to fight back… he needed to become something more.