As I made my way to the hospital room where my father was lying, my heart felt heavy with the weight of the moment. It wasn't clear if he would make it through. The faces of my loved ones greeted me as I approached, each one wearing a solemn expression that conveyed the gravity of the situation.
Mark, Mary, Loe, Chris, Emily, —they were all gathered around my father's bedside, their presence offering a silent support during this uncertain time.
Stepping into the room, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me at the sight of my father lying in the bed. His usual energy seemed to have faded, replaced by the frailty of illness. With a heavy heart, I tapped into my chi sense, confirming what I already suspected—my father didn't have much time left.
Breaking the quiet, Mark's voice held kindness and empathy. "Michael, I'll let you have some time alone with your dad," he whispered softly, signaling for the others to leave. As they quietly left the room, Mary paused for a moment and kiss me, her kiss showing she was there for me.
Nodding in gratitude, I watched as they left, leaving me alone with my father in his final moments. The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me as I approached his bedside, unsure of what to say or do in these moments.
Alone with my father, I knelt by his side, taking his hand in mine as tears welled in my eyes. Desperation and hope warred within me as I voiced my futile attempt to save him.
"Dad, I—I can still do something, perhaps I can save you," I stammered, my voice choked with emotion.
But my father's words, though weak, carried a peaceful acceptance. "No, you done enough" he said gently, holding my hand firmly. "I've already fulfilled my purpose in this world. And It's time for me to join your mother."
His words hit me hard, making me realize the truth about life's end. I cried as I listened to him, feeling thankful for the time we had together.
"Dad, I need you," I sobbed, the pain of impending loss overwhelming me. "I don't know if—"
As I poured out my desperation and sorrow, my father interrupted me with a gentle touch and a comforting gaze. "You don't need me anymore, son," he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "Even if I pass on, you have your friends who are like family to you. Besides Your mother and I will always be watching over you, no matter what happens."
As my father closed his eyes, a deep sense of loss washed over me. "Dad," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion, but there was no response. With a heavy heart, I wrapped my arms around his lifeless body, clinging to him as if by sheer will I could bring him back.
"Dad!" I cried out, my voice raw with grief. The tears flowed freely now, unchecked by any sense of pride or restraint. In that moment, I was no longer the hero but a son mourning the loss of his father, the man who had always been there for me, guiding me through life's trials and tribulations.
My cries echoed through the silent hospital room, a testament to the pain and anguish that consumed me. "Dad!" I sobbed, each word punctuated by a wave of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me.
Standing before my parents' graves, I felt an overwhelming sadness. Their final resting spots, side by side, reminded me of the deep love they had for each other. It was a powerful reminder of their lifelong bond.
Looking at their tombstones, I felt a rush of emotions. My dad, Edward Wilson, was born on June 4, 1904, and passed away on August 17, 1994. He was a strong and honorable man who dedicated himself to his country and family.
Beside him rested my mother, Emberly Wilson with a similar inscription. Born on July 1, 1905, she left us on July 2, 1978. She was a kind and loving woman who always showed compassion to others.
As I stood there, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the time I had with them. Even though they were gone, the memories we made together would live on forever.
Kneeling before their tomb, tears streamed down my cheeks as I spoke softly to my parents. "Don't worry, Dad, Mom, I will be fine," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. Turning towards my friends, who stood respectfully at a distance, I offered them a grateful nod. They understood the depth of my grief and gave me the space I needed to mourn.
Returning my gaze to the tombstone, I continued, "I have my friends with me, that's why I'm not going to be alone." It was a comforting thought, knowing that I had their support and companionship during this difficult time.
Looking up at the sky, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. "I know you're watching over me," I whispered, feeling their presence in the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves above. Though they were no longer with me physically, I knew that their love would always surround me, guiding me through whatever comes my way.
Then Loe approached me at the cemetery, his presence brought a sense of familiarity and comfort amidst the sorrow. "Hey, Michael," he greeted me softly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding.
Returning his greeting, I acknowledged him with a somber nod. "Hey, Loe," I replied, my voice tinged with sadness as I glanced back at the tombstone.
Pausing for a moment, Loe's gaze lingered on the inscription before he began to speak, his words measured and thoughtful. "You know, your father, or Uncle Ed as I knew him, was like a second father to me," he confessed, his tone filled with reverence. "After my old man passed away, he was there for me, guiding me and supporting me in ways I never imagined."
Listening intently, I felt a pang of gratitude for the bond they shared. "I always admired the relationship you two had," I admitted, a hint of a smile playing on my lips despite the sadness in my heart.
Loe's words echoed with a sense of humility and uncertainty as he thought about why my father's decision to appoint him as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "I don't know what he saw in me or why he chose me" he said, sounding grateful but also a bit confused. "But I'll do my best to honor his trust and lead S.H.I.E.L.D. with integrity."
Then he added, "I know you're not keen on being a Director because you're adventurous and don't like feeling tied down."
Reflecting on my own aspirations and my father's influence on the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D, I couldn't help but share a bittersweet smile. "You know, when I pitched the idea to my dad, it was with the intention of him leading the organization while I continued my adventures," I explained, a sense of nostalgia creeping into my voice. "Having him as a backup would've been reassuring."
"But I have faith in you, Loe," I continued, my voice filled with sincerity. "You've proven time and time again that you're more than capable of handling whatever comes your way. And S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't ask for a better leader."
With a nod of agreement, Loe acknowledged my words with a sense of determination. "Thanks, Michael," he replied, his gaze meeting mine with a sense of resolve. "I'll do everything in my power to live up to your father's legacy and make him proud."
With a warm smile, I added, "But it's amazing to see how my vision has come to life, and how S.H.I.E.L.D has become a force for good in the world. He truly left behind a remarkable legacy."
Loe nodded in agreement, his expression reflecting a mix of admiration and respect. "Your father was a great man," he affirmed, his voice filled with reverence for the memory of my father.
Suddenly, Mark approached us with a suggestion. "Hey guys, how about some food after this? You know bonding with each other"
Then Chris let out a heavy sigh before speaking, "This man... Can you please, like, try to read the mood?"
With a little laugh, I appreciated Mark's idea. "Thanks, Mark," I said, understanding that he wanted to make things a bit easier for me. Suggesting food after the funeral was his way of showing that even during sad times, there can be moments of togetherness and comfort, as well as bonding with friends.
As Mark suggested grabbing some food after the solemn moment at the cemetery, I found myself surrounded by my friends—Chris, Emily, Mary, and Mark.
Mary's embrace and comforting words reassured me of her unwavering support. "Michael, I'm here for you, always," she whispered, her lips meeting mine in a tender kiss.
Feeling thankful for Mary's comfort, I hugged her back tightly. "Thanks, Mary," I whispered, truly grateful for her support during this tough moment.
I turned to my friends with a genuine smile, feeling grateful for their presence. "Thank you, guys," I said sincerely, appreciating the comfort their friendship offered during this difficult time.
[My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion]
Lyrics:
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on (why does the heart go on?)
Once more, you open the door
And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
You're here, there's nothing I fear
And I know that my heart will go on
We'll stay forever this way
You are safe in my heart and
My heart will go on and on
.....
.....
......
.......
A year later, on August 2, 1995, Norman Osborn found himself in the lab once again. His attempts to recreate Spider-Man had been ongoing for months, But nothing was going right. Each time they tried, it just didn't work out. Norman was getting frustrated.
Norman's voice echoed with disappointment as he leaned in to examine the latest results. "Still nothing?" he asked, his voice heavy with frustration.
The scientist shook his head, a tinge of frustration evident in his tone. "No, sir. It's as if every time this spider bites something, it leads to death."
Norman's expression soured further. "Useless. Dispose of it. I have no use for such failures."
As the scientist moved to comply with Norman's orders, there was a sudden commotion in the lab. With a startled cry, he slipped, sending the container holding the spider crashing to the floor. "Aargh!"
Norman's eyes narrowed as he watched the spider vanish. "Leave it," he commanded, his mind already racing with the possibilities of his new project. "We have more pressing matters to attend to."
The spider broke free and scuttled away unnoticed amidst the chaos, disappearing within the halls of Oscorp.
[Meanwhile Peter side]
As Peter and Harry explored the vast halls of Oscorp Corporation, Peter felt excited to take pictures of all the cool gadgets they saw. He turned to Harry and said, "Harry, thanks for bringing me here. You're awesome!"
Harry grinned in response, his pride evident. "Hey, no problem, Pete. Glad you're enjoying yourself. But just wait until you see what else Oscorp has in store."
As Peter and Harry walked through Oscorp Corporation, Peter was so engrossed in taking pictures that he didn't notice he was getting ahead of Harry. He was totally focused on getting the best shots for his school project, not paying attention to anything else around him. His mind was completely wrapped up in his photography, and he was determined to capture every detail perfectly.
Without Peter even realizing it, a spider, yes it's one of Oscorp's experiments, who escaped. In a quick movement, it sank its fangs into Peter's skin before disappearing into the darkness.
Feeling a sudden sharp sting, Peter swatted at his arm instinctively, his focus torn away from his camera. Confusion crossed his face as he inspected the small red mark, but before he could think too much about it, dizziness washed over him. In that same moment, something unexpected occurred.
Then Harry's concern etched deeper lines on his forehead as he observed Peter's discomfort. "You don't look too good, Pete. Should I call for some help? Oscorp has plenty of doctors around."
Peter attempted to dismiss Harry's worry with a weak smile. "Nah, it's nothing, just a bit of dizziness. I'll be okay. I think I just need some fresh air."
Though Harry remained hesitant, he reluctantly nodded, trusting Peter's assurance. "Alright, if you say so. But if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"
"Got it," Peter replied, his voice slightly strained. With a shaky breath, he straightened himself, determined to push through the lingering effects of the dizziness. "Let's keep going. I don't want to miss anything cool in this place."
As they continued exploring Oscorp, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Little did he and Harry know, the spider's bite had started a chain of events that would completely transform Peter's life.
[Meanwhile Michael Side]
As I was teaching my high school English class about different types of speech, like when we say things that mean something else, suddenly my mCall device started buzzing. I told my students to wait a sec while I answered.
"Hey Pete, what's up?" I asked when I picked up the call.
"Michael, something feels wrong," Peter said through the device.
A knowing smile tugged at the corners of my lips. So, it was finally happening.
"Where are you, Peter?" I said to him filled with determination.
Today will marked the start of a new chapter in my story because today was the day I would teach Peter how to be Spider-Man.
[Spider-Man Theme]
To be continued