[1st POV]
Climbing up to my room, I grabbed my phone and saved the new number under "Redhead."
I quickly typed out a test message.
"Hey, it's Pete. Just checking. Testing, Testing."
"Hi, Tiger. Confirmed. The connection's good :)"
"I just wanted to wish you a great evening."
"Same to you, Peter."
Putting the phone away, I lean back on the pillow, grinning from ear to ear.
This is the start.
I even forgot to take off the suit.
Throwing on some casual clothes, I start planning tomorrow.
...
[3rd POV]
A secret training camp at the abandoned factories of New York.
A sleek black limousine drives into a semi-collapsed, rust-covered building. The arriving vehicle distracts three soldiers from their preparations.
A huge man pounding a punching bag stopped and began removing his gloves, and another in a stylish suit turned toward the gang's leader, witting on a bench adjusting his primary weapon.
A man who looked Italian stepped out of the car and into the middle of the planning room.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
Hammerhead greeted the group of Enforcers.
"What brings you here, Hammer?"
Montana inquired.
Without a word, the Hammerhead took a briefcase from his assistant.
He walked up to the table, entered a password, and turned the open case toward the group.
"I'm glad to see you again, Enforcers."
Montana knew immediately that the Big Man was talking to them again, even though a modulator and the screen distorted the sound and showed a blurry, dark silhouette.
"It seems you're back in shape. That's good. It's time to finish an old job."
The voice from the screen announced as images of a rising young New York hero—Spider-Man began flashing on display.
"Rest assured, we'll complete this contract."
Montana replied confidently.
"Excellent. The equipment will be delivered to you tomorrow. This time, you're just your own group. You move in three days."
"Looks like the bug is living out its last days."
Montana added with a smirk, his tone with resolve.
...
[1st POV]
The Next Morning.
I haven't woken up in such a good mood in a long time.
Walking over to the window, I open it to let in some fresh air. Then, I saw MJ tidying herself in front of her mirror across the room.
I panicked and leaped onto the ceiling. The last thing I needed was for her to think I was spying on her.
I carefully crawled toward the door, dropped down, and went to the bathroom.
A good day should always start with a strong cup of coffee.
"Good morning!"
I call out cheerfully.
No one responded.
After noticing a sticky note on the fridge, I realized Aunt May and Uncle Ben had gone out to buy materials for the garage renovation.
After a quick breakfast, I headed upstairs to get ready and went to my lab.
Over the past few months, I've managed to set up a small, self-sustaining resource production system.
I've experimented with web fluid in every way imaginable—different compounds, enzymes, and combinations. I tested cheaper chemicals and analyzed how each element affected the web's properties: strength, elasticity, and adhesion.
Thanks to these experiments, I've mastered producing about seven types of web fluid using the most cost-effective materials.
I also upgraded the web-shooters. Now, I can manually adjust the pressure to control the strength of the web discharge.
Actually, these upgrades allowed me to create Electroweb. It all came down to the thread's thickness and the power source for the discharge.
Of course, there was a risk of frying the shooters, but I've minimized the risk to almost nothing through trial and error.
After finishing my inventory check, I packed my arsenal, locked up the lab, headed back upstairs, and suited up.
Pulling on my mask, I launch out the window, ready to take on the day.
...
After arriving on the roof of the Daily Bugle building, I descend through the fire exit into the janitor's room.
I quickly throw on my everyday clothes over the suit and step out of the utility room.
"Hey, Betty."
"Pete, so glad to see you! Are you here for the paycheck or a new assignment?"
"Both, beautiful."
"Great. Honestly, I'm surprised. You've been here for five minutes, and the boss hasn't..."
– PARKER!!?!?"
"...And there it is."
Betty rolled her eyes and moved aside.
"Mr. Jameson! I was just..."
"MY OFFICE, NOW!"
Without wasting a second, I dashed into the glass-walled office.
"There are a couple of wrong..."
"We'll get to that later, Parker. Let's get to the point."
"I'm all ears."
"In a couple of months, Wilson Fisk— I hope I don't need to explain who that is— along with Osborn Industries, will initiate the opening of several diagnostic pediatric medical centers."
"Well, even the criminals have a heart."
"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"
Jonah snapped instantly, but after a few seconds, adjusting his tie, he regained his composure.
"Anyway, one of our journalists decided to use this event to investigate the criminal activities of the Kingpin."
"Is he probably someone I know?"
"Maybe."
Suddenly, a man replied while entering the door, draped in a cloak like a detective from the twenties.
"Hi, Peter."
"Ben! Glad to see you."
I shook his hand with a smile.
Ben Urich.
He's a great guy by the number of facts that align with the criminal database of New York's police.
This guy is so professional that even the police don't hesitate to use his investigative materials.
"You're a talented guy, Pete. I'd be happy if you joined me at the opening. Your photography skills will be useful."
Urich offered this unique opportunity.
"Really?!"
I looked at Jonah in disbelief.
"As much as it pains me to admit, you're our youngest, most promising, and talented photographer. But don't get cocky, kid! This job is your only shot. If you miss this opportunity, you won't be able to join the big boys, got it?"
"Of course, Mr. Jameson, I won't let you down!"
"Great. Now get out!"
"Yeah."
I headed for the door but turned for a second.
"Will these photos be credited as we agreed?"
"Yes-yes, Mr. "Ben Reilly" now go and don't disturb the work!"
"We'll discuss the details later, Pete."
Ben waved me off as I left.
After stepping out, I walked over to Robbie, who had stopped by Betty's desk.
"Hey, boss, here are the pictures, fresh from our wall crawler's latest adventure."
"Great, Pete. Take them to the illustration department."
Robertson handed the materials to one of his interns, "And, by the way, Pete, I've asked you not to call me boss."
He remarked kindly.
"Right, but over these months, you've become almost like a mentor to me in everything related to the editorial. Although, if you don't like it, I'll stop."
"Nah, I'm just messing with you. Honestly, it's flattering. Alright, have a good day, "student," I need to get to work."
"Good luck, sensei."
I jokingly bowed, dodging Robbie's playful swat.
"Betty, hey, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
She finished typing, "I'm all ears..."
"So, listen."
I nervously scratch the back of my neck, "Can you give me some advice? If I don't know what flowers a girl likes or, you know, if she has allergies, but I really don't want to mess it up, what would you suggest?"
"Do I look like a florist to you?"
Betty raised an eyebrow, asking seriously.
"Uhhh…"
A second later, my awkward pause is interrupted by her loud laughter.
"Oh my god, Parker, you never learn! Still falling for the jokes, huh?"
"You can never predict with you girls, God, Betty, you almost gave me a heart attack."
"Alright, but seriously, who's the lucky girl who's taken over our photographer's thoughts?"
Betty whispers conspiratorially.
I don't know why, but I'm sure I turned as red as a tomato from her question.
"Her name's Mary Jane."
"That's a beautiful name. And as for flowers, I'd recommend something like tulips. You'd be surprised, but roses are also a good option. Their pollen is pretty heavy, rarely causes allergies, and has a strong scent. Orchids are also a great choice."
"It turned out I really was talking to a florist."
"Get out of here, smartass!"
"Seriously, I owe you one, Betty. Thanks."
I dash out of the room, dodging the stapler Betty threw at me.
...
I bought the flowers with my suit neatly pressed, my hair combed, and a splash of cologne.
Perfect, the tiger is ready for the hunt!
After taking a deep breath and gathering my thoughts, I knock on the Watson house door.
Aunt Mary answered.
"Good evening, Mrs. Watson, I'm here for Mary Jane."
"Hi, Peter, Mary is upstairs, getting dressed. Come on in."
I close the door behind me and move to the living room, sitting in an armchair.
Anna sat on the sofa opposite me.
"Peter, I'm going to speak frankly."
"Mary is going through a really tough time right now. I know she may seem cheerful and carefree on the outside, but deep inside, it's hard for her. However, I can see your intentions are serious. You really like my niece, don't you?"
"Very much."
I said confidently without lying.
"Good. That's why I'm warning you. Don't be too persistent, but be the man she can lean on."
"That's a surprisingly wise and strong piece of advice, Mrs. Watson."
"Are you surprised?"
I was interrupted by noise on the stairs.
After turning around, I froze and saw MJ wearing a gorgeous green evening dress with perfectly styled hair. She even put on some jewelry.
"Peter, close your mouth, a fly might fly in."
MJ teased me playfully.
"I'm just… wow."
I can't find the words.
"These are for you."
I handed her the flowers, "Orchids. I didn't know what you liked, or maybe you have allergies, but they're both beautiful and hypoallergenic and also..."
"Easy there, Tiger."
She interrupted my rambling speech, placing her small palm gently.
"They're perfect. Aunt Anna, could you put them in a vase?"
"Of course, you two, have fun."
After putting on our shoes, we step out of the house.
"Where are we going?"
She asked, intertwining our fingers with a light movement. Trying not to get lost in the moment, I replied.
"There's a nice, cozy little restaurant on Grand Avenue. We'll get there quickly. By the way, what kind of music do you like?"
"Actually, I'm a music lover, I listen to almost everything, but mostly rock of different kinds, a little bit of pop, why?"
MJ asked, surprised by the sudden change in topic.
I silently took out my headphones, connected them to my player, and offered one ear to MJ.
We reached the restaurant, discussing different music and the meanings of songs or just listening to tracks with our hands intertwined.
It was sometimes fun, sometimes just cozy.
"Good evening, a table for six, Peter Parker."
"Of course, let me check."
The friendly replied hostess, "Yes, of course, right this way, Mr. Parker."
"Peter, how did you manage to reserve a table here? This place is amazing!"
MJ exclaimed in astonishment.
"Actually, it wasn't that hard. Very few people know about this place. Well, maybe many know, but only a few actually come."
"Why?"
"It's all about scale. This is New York, and everyone wants glamor and prestige. These nice, quiet places are often considered beneath their status. However, I decided to share with you a piece of something real."
"I'm touched, Tiger."
"I'm glad. Now, let's order something, I'm starving."
To be continued...