Past Events

When Peter pushed open the door, exhaustion washed over him like a tide. The bank robberies of the past few days had left him stretched thin, and meanwhile, his part-time application to the Daily Bugle remained unanswered – not because someone else had gotten there first, but because they had flat-out rejected him. The announcement for an intern position maintaining their website was still hanging on the school's internship board.

But what weighed heavier on his heart was the atmosphere at home.

"Where has he been going lately? Coming back so late every day..." Aunt May's voice came from the kitchen, laced with undisguised worry.

"Don't worry, May, I'll talk to him," Uncle Ben's voice was gentle yet firm. "He's a good kid, he wouldn't get into trouble."

Peter stood at the doorway, sighing silently, and pushed the door open. Aunt May seemed about to say something, but Uncle Ben was already striding forward, gently patting Peter's shoulder and ushering him out. "I'll have a chat with Peter, May, everything will be fine. Come on, son."

The garage light was dim, the air thick with the smell of engine oil and old leather. Uncle Ben rummaged for a moment, pulling out two pairs of boxing gloves from a pile of junk. He tossed one onto the hood and expertly slipped the other onto his own hand.

"Gwen told me a few things about you, Peter," Uncle Ben said calmly, adjusting the straps on his gloves. "But I suspect that's not the whole story. There's something about a spider, isn't there?"

"I just..." Peter opened his mouth.

"Don't just talk," Uncle Ben interrupted, nodding towards the other pair of gloves with his chin. "Put them on. Let's spar."

Peter silently put on the gloves and adopted the fighting stance Uncle Ben had taught him.

"Now, listen up," Uncle Ben raised his hands in a defensive posture. "You attack, I defend. After every missed punch, think carefully about why you missed, and only then throw the next one – go!"

Peter threw a straight punch, which Uncle Ben easily dodged by sidestepping. As he was adjusting his stance to throw a second punch, just as Uncle Ben had instructed, he felt a light tap right on his forehead.

"Ouch!"

"See, Peter? Dwelling on the past is pointless. Whether the last punch landed or not, it shouldn't affect the next one. Standing here, the only thing you should be thinking about is what comes next."

"I know, Uncle Ben, I just can't forget."

"Then think about something else, Peter."

As he spoke, Uncle Ben took off his gloves and pulled out his old laptop from the car. "After hearing what Gwen said, I knew you should see this, so I brought the computer down. I probably should have shown you this a long time ago."

Peter rubbed his forehead and walked over to Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben opened the laptop, and the screen lit up, showing a report about a fire.

"Remember this fire?"

"Of course, it was the first time I used my abilities to save people from a fire..."

"Then have you seen this?"

Uncle Ben clicked on a bookmarked webpage, which led to a video. On the screen, a mother's eyes were red, her voice choked with emotion:

"I don't know who you are, or if you can even see this... but I have to say thank you. When the firefighters stopped me, it was you who rushed in and saved my daughter..."

The video showed a mother's thanks, her words becoming increasingly incoherent towards the end. It was the first time Peter had seen a video like this.

Then came a second one, and from here on, Spider-Man appeared.

Spider-Man assisted Damage Control in fighting thugs, Spider-Man helped firefighters put out a high-rise fire, Spider-Man blocked bullets to save a police officer on duty...

Helping an old lady retrieve her escaped pigeon, cleaning graffiti off a wall for a small shop owner, even just helping someone find their lost cat.

Big and small things, things Spider-Man had done that Peter himself couldn't even remember, but someone did. They didn't know how to contact Spider-Man, so they could only express their gratitude in the simplest way – someone had created a website to collect these clips.

"I... I've never seen these," Peter's voice trembled slightly.

"But you should, kid," Uncle Ben's hand rested on his shoulder. "Don't always focus on what you haven't done, look at what you have accomplished. No matter how the enemy slanders you, no matter how Jameson smears you, those you've helped will always know the truth."

He paused, his gaze firm.

"Spider-Man gave people hope, Peter. What are you beating yourself up about? Feeling like you haven't done enough? Look at these – you've already made so many people's lives better. My nephew is already a hero who can bring smiles to the world."

"What you've achieved is far more important than what you haven't."

Peter's throat felt tight. He had always thought his actions were just a small gesture, never imagining they could truly change anything.

"These people... their lives got better because of me?" he murmured, as if asking Uncle Ben, or perhaps himself, "Can I really do this?"

Uncle Ben nodded with a smile.

"You did it. Look at these videos, your help to them is always here. Your past isn't just about the things you haven't done; compared to what you have accomplished, they are merely an insignificant part."

"I'm so proud of everything my nephew has done, and you should be proud of these things too, Peter."

"I... thank you, Uncle Ben. I don't know what to say."

Peter looked at the videos, seemingly lost in thought for a long time, before finally letting out a choked laugh. "So, Spider-Man brings hope to everyone. If the friendly neighborhood hero isn't happy, who can make everyone else happy? Right? I'll face every day with a smile and hope."

"Ben! Peter?!" Aunt May's voice called from inside the house.

"Alright, go apologize to your Aunt May," Uncle Ben said, then lowered his voice. "If you keep coming home this late, you won't be able to fool her anymore."

"Never. Not anymore."

Back in his room, Peter retrieved an old briefcase from the back of his closet and took out an old notebook – it was Richard Parker's relic, containing some of his preliminary thoughts during his work. The formula for Spider-Man's synthetic web fluid originated from it.

However, the old web fluid was no longer enough to counter Scarecrow's threat. Peter opened his laptop, cross-referenced it with the notes, and began trying to improve the formula. Before this, he had never thought he could improve upon his father's invention. But now, looking at the formulas, at the hand-drawn diagrams of the web structure he was so familiar with, Peter listed all the chemical reagents he could find at school and started building a new web model on the computer, simulating the effects of changing the web fluid's structure.

"Looks like people have to push themselves sometimes," he murmured to himself, never imagining he could do something like this in the Marvel world.

Bottles of chemical reagents were pulled from the closet and packed into his backpack. The rest of the supplies were at Midtown High School. As a representative high school cooperating with Osborn Industries, it had all the necessary equipment.

He figured no teacher would mind him "borrowing" some chemical materials. Theoretically, the new web fluid's strength could be increased by about 20%, which should be enough to deal with Scarecrow.

No... there was still a very important point.

Scarecrow was extremely cautious now, acting alongside others and choosing to retreat quickly during bank robberies, giving no one any chance. If he couldn't find Scarecrow, even figuring out a way to defeat him would be useless.

But fortunately, he had two good friends, one suspected to be the world's seventh-greatest genius, and the other suspected to be Osborn's heir. Together, they joined a detective agency run by a superhero who worked as a private investigator... though he didn't have superpowers yet.

The darkness deepened, and Peter checked the time. He still had an hour or two to sleep, so he decided to put his laptop back in his bag and go to bed.

He touched something inside the bag – it was Richard Parker's old Canon camera. For some reason, he turned it on and tried it out, discovering that it still worked.

Did the Daily Bugle also have a notice out for buying photos of Spider-Man?

Peter placed the camera on the table, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes.

"Alright, Herman, this time it's my turn to find you."