Peter lay on the cold, damp ground, his body aching from the kicks. His soaked clothes clung to him, amplifying his misery. Each taunt stung worse than the bruises.
"Puny Parker," Flash sneered.
"Fatherless behavior," another added, their laughter piercing the silence.
Peter's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. A dark whisper crept through his thoughts: 'Maybe it would be easier to end it' to escape the torment.
Uncle Ben and Aunt May were his anchor, the only thing keeping him from sinking. The thought of disappointing them cut deeper than any wound or insult.
The bullying got worse, but Peter refused to give in. He threw himself into his studies, determined to excel and prove his worth. At home, he did everything to ease their burdens, knowing how much they had sacrificed for him.
In quiet moments, he made a solemn vow: he would care for them with the same love and strength they'd shown him.
This was a scene from the past. Peter found himself watching the emotions and memories of the original Peter Parker play out like a vivid dream.
Suddenly, he was jolted back to reality, his consciousness yanked from the vision. Blinking rapidly, Peter realized he was still in the backseat of a taxi. The vehicle had just pulled into Queens.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his tone casual. "Had a good nap?"
"Yeah," Peter muttered, his voice a little hoarse.
He gave the man his home address but hesitated as they approached. Leaning forward slightly, he added, "Drop me off a bit farther down the block? Thanks."
The driver obliged, pulling over a short distance from the house. Peter slipped out, cautious not to draw any attention, especially from his aunt and uncle. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he moved quickly, taking the back route to his house.
Reaching the side wall, he scaled it effortlessly, slipping through his bedroom window like a shadow. Once inside, he exhaled in relief and stashed the bag of money deep in his closet, hidden from prying eyes.
When Peter turned around, he froze. Aunt May stood behind him, her face etched with worry.
"Peter!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug.
Her eyes searched his, filled with concern. "Where did you go?"
"Out," Peter muttered, not giving it much thought.
But her gaze dropped to his tattered clothes, and her worry deepened. "What happened? Did an animal attack you?"
Before Peter could answer, Uncle Ben entered the room, his brow furrowed.
"You could say that," Peter said vaguely.
Uncle Ben approached, wrapping Peter in a firm, fatherly hug. "We've been worried sick. Where were you?"
"Out," Peter repeated, his tone unchanged.
Uncle Ben noticed the cuts and tears in Peter's clothes, his expression darkening. "Did someone hurt you? Were you bullied? You need to tell me, Peter."
"No one did," Peter insisted, keeping his secrets close.
Uncle Ben sighed, his concern shifting to firm resolve. "You're grounded for a month. No exceptions."
"Okay," Peter said quietly, understanding their worry but knowing he couldn't reveal the truth "But can I get some rest?"
Aunt May and Uncle Ben noticed how drained Peter looked. Uncle Ben let out a sigh. "Go on, get some rest," he said, his voice soft with concern.
"Thanks," Peter replied.
"But first," Aunt May added, crossing her arms, "change out of those torn clothes and take a shower. Oh, and don't forget to call your girlfriend."
"Jessica called?" Peter asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. He appreciated how much she cared, especially as his first girlfriend.
"She did," Aunt May said. "She's worried about you."
After a quick shower, Peter towel-dried his hair and noticed a missed call from Jessica. Without hesitation, he dialed her back.
When she answered, her voice was sharp with concern. "Where the hell did you go? Your aunt answered earlier, and she sounded just as worried."
"I was out buying materials for an experiment," Peter explained, his tone light, though he knew she'd see through him. "But... things got complicated."
"Let me guess—you bought them from the black market, didn't you?" Jessica asked, her suspicion clear.
Peter hesitated. "Yeah… They had what I needed."
Jessica sighed heavily on the other end. "Peter, please don't be reckless. You scared me. I can't handle losing someone else I care about. Promise me, no more risks like this."
Peter's voice softened, guilt lacing his words. "I know. I'm sorry, my love. I promise—it won't happen again."
There was a brief pause before Jessica replied, her tone firm but forgiving. "I'll let it slide this time. But you owe me an explanation later."
"See you at school, then," Peter said with a small smile.
"Yeah, bye, Peter," Jessica replied softly.
"Love you," Peter added, his voice steady but warm.
"Love you too," Jessica said, her cheeks flushing as she spoke.
As the call ended, Peter set his phone down and sighed deeply. His thoughts swirled, the weight of his resolve settling on his shoulders. "I need to get stronger," he muttered under his breath. "Dr. Connors, please accept my help. If you don't, I'll find someone else who can guide me."
His jaw clenched, determination flaring in his eyes. 'I need to learn martial arts,' he thought, cracking his neck to ease the tension. 'Next time I face Sabretooth, I won't be caught off guard.'
Despite being grounded, Peter wasted no time. He began training in his room, determined to sharpen his body and skills.
A few hours later, Peter retreated to the garage, immersing himself in his work. Aunt May and Uncle Ben lingered nearby, quietly keeping an eye on him, unsure if he might slip away again like before.
With sparks flying, Peter welded pieces of iron together, painstakingly crafting components for his web shooters. He jotted down notes as he worked, detailing improvements for future upgrades, his focus unwavering.