Peter should have been worried. Very worried.
Early the next morning, when he went downstairs for breakfast, Uncle Ben was holding the Daily Bugle. The front-page headline blared in bold: "Mysterious criminal wrecks block party." Beside it was a sketch of Peter's outfit from the night before.
The eyes were passably accurate, but the rest looked like a demon that had crawled out of hell. The jacket looked as though it had been pieced together from scales, and most absurdly of all, they had given him sharp claws.
Honestly, though, Peter was pretty pleased. The world knew he existed, but it still didn't know his real identity. So far, the only thing anyone knew for certain was the spider emblem on his jacket. People had already started calling him "Spider," and the name really did fit.
At school, Harry walked ahead with his head down, his father, Norman Osborn, following behind.
Standing at his locker, Peter spotted Norman immediately. Norman noticed him too and smiled. That smile sent chills down his spine. Peter knew the original owner of this body had met Norman at Harry's house before. The man was powerfully built, and there were definitely explosive muscles packed beneath that suit.
Peter instinctively wanted to avoid him, or simply run, but Norman was already heading straight toward him with Harry. All he could do was take a deep breath and brace himself for the confrontation.
"Mr. Parker." Norman extended a hand.
"Dr. Osborn." Peter shook it. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
Norman raised an eyebrow slightly at the correct use of his title. "I'm here on a personal matter. Could we find somewhere private to talk?"
Peter glanced at a thoroughly embarrassed Harry, nodded, and followed Norman out of the school. The two walked around the block, with Harry trailing more than ten meters behind.
"I must admit, Peter, you've surprised me. How did you know I had a doctorate?"
"A year ago, I was still Harry's best friend. I was interested in your research, so I looked you up. Your paper on mechanical muscle replacement surgery was very cutting-edge."
A flicker of surprise crossed Norman's eyes. "You understood it?"
"Replacing damaged or dysfunctional muscles with semiliquid metal. The process requires injecting nanobots into the affected area to restructure the system at a cellular level. But the bottleneck is artificial intelligence. The nanobots aren't smart enough to perform the complex micromanipulations."
Norman smiled. "Very good, Peter. I'm impressed."
Harry looked utterly bewildered as he listened behind them. "What?"
"This doesn't concern you right now, Harry," Norman cut him off with a frown, then turned back to Peter. "You're a bright young man. Harry says your grades are always among the best. Is that true?"
Peter narrowed his eyes. Norman wasn't an idiot. He must have known his grades, so why go out of his way to butter him up? Unless...
Peter chuckled. "Dr. Osborn, just tell me. What exactly did you come to see me for?"
"Straight to the point. Good." Norman smiled too. "Then let's test that brain of yours. Why do you think I'm here?"
"You're afraid I'll sue Harry for assaulting me last night." Peter's tone was flat, and Harry's shoulders hunched in the distance. "You're here to make sure I keep my mouth shut."
Norman nodded. "Harry underestimated you."
"Thank you. Honestly, I did consider it, but it seemed like too much trouble." Peter shrugged.
"Are you sure? As I understand it, your aunt and uncle are in urgent need of money." There was a hint of provocation in Norman's voice.
Peter knew he was trying to rile him up, but he remained unmoved. "Maybe, but my aunt and uncle have principles. Getting money that way wouldn't be right."
"You'd give up a chance to give your family a better life for the sake of what's supposedly 'right'?" Norman stared at him. "Peter, if doing something could save the world and everyone in it, even if the means were wrong, wouldn't you do it?"
Looking at the twisted sense of justice in Norman's eyes, Peter could almost imagine the madness he would display when he became the Green Goblin.
"Dr. Osborn, Earth's current population is seven billion, but its carrying capacity is only four billion. If I killed three billion people to save humanity's future, would you consider that reasonable?"
Norman froze. A moment later, he burst out laughing. "Peter, I like you more and more."
He took a checkbook from his pocket, wrote down a number, tore out the check, and offered it to Peter. "There aren't many things I care about in this world. My son is one of them. He made a mistake. I hope you can forgive his stupidity and put this behind you."
Peter looked down at the check. Twenty thousand dollars.
His Adam's apple bobbed. With that money, he could upgrade his spider suit, buy a top-of-the-line computer, and solve countless problems. But he couldn't. He would never accept charity, especially charity from Norman Osborn.
"Thank you, Dr. Osborn. I appreciate the thought." Peter pushed the check back.
"This could greatly improve your family's lives. Is your pride really more important than their suffering?"
"You haven't listened to a word I've said." Peter rolled his eyes. "I said the means matter just as much as the outcome. Put yourself in my shoes. If you were the one at a disadvantage, would you throw away your pride and trust someone who thought you were worth nothing more than a piece of paper and a little ink? What about the Osborn family's pride?"
Norman was dumbstruck. He looked at Peter, then at the check, and suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
"You're an extraordinary young man, Peter." Norman took back the check and tore it to pieces in front of him. "I apologize for insulting you this way. Since you have no intention of pursuing the matter of Harry's behavior, I'll take your word for it. If you ever need anything, come to me. Have a pleasant day."
He turned toward the Lincoln at the street corner, casting Harry a cold glance before leaving. "We'll talk when we get home."
"Yes... Father." Harry lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes.
Watching the luxury car drive away, Peter patted Harry on the shoulder. "Your dad has one hell of a presence."
"You have no idea." Harry smiled bitterly.
Of course Peter knew.
After school that day, Colleen Wing put Peter through his paces at the dojo until he was utterly exhausted. His swordsmanship was already quite refined, his strikes fast and precise. Though he still couldn't beat Colleen, he was already one of the dojo's best fighters.
That night, in the basement laboratory.
Peter rubbed his aching shoulders, his mind full of money. Twenty thousand dollars had slipped away just like that, all because he had wanted to turn down his future archnemesis. It was certainly a good enough reason, but the reality was that Aunt May and Uncle Ben were still struggling to make ends meet. Uncle Ben was working two jobs, while Peter had sunk all his money into Spider-Man's equipment.
He had to make money. But how?
His first thought was to invent some black tech and patent it. With his own talents and Peter's, he could definitely come up with something. But reality quickly threw cold water on that idea: the research would cost too much, or the technology would be too complicated to commercialize. The patent application fee alone was three hundred dollars, and he couldn't even afford that right now.
Sell photos to the Daily Bugle? Not a chance. The news industry was declining, and everyone had a phone now. If he wandered around the streets in his suit, he'd become a meme mocked across the internet in three seconds.
Become a white-hat hacker? Collect bounties by finding vulnerabilities in companies' servers? Peter's computer skills weren't at that level yet.
Invest in stocks that would skyrocket in the future? Without starting capital, that was out of the question.
Peter sighed and went upstairs to ask Aunt May for advice, only to find her staring fixedly at the television.
"Aunt May, what's wrong?"
"It's awful, Peter. There's fighting in the streets!" Aunt May pointed at the screen.
Peter turned to look. The news was broadcasting a fierce battle on Madison Avenue live. On-screen, a man wearing metal armor and a green cloak raised a hand and unleashed lightning. Then a fireball dropped from the sky and slammed into the armored man. Yet he caught the fireball with his bare hands and hurled it back at a huge orange rock monster.
Wait, that's the Thing!
Peter's pupils contracted sharply. The man in the green cloak was Victor von Doom! That fireball was Johnny Storm, the Human Torch! The Fantastic Four had only gained their powers a few weeks ago. Apparently, Victor von Doom had gained his powers around the same time.
"Aunt May, I need to go back to school. I forgot something! I'll be back in an hour!"
Peter shouted and rushed back into the basement, ignoring Aunt May's calls.
He quickly changed into his spider suit and checked his Silk-Shooters, making sure they were fully loaded. Then he slipped out of the house, moving through treetops and shadows. Only once he was far from Queens did he fire a web and swing into the night sky.
Ten minutes later, Peter reached Madison Avenue.
His heart hammered in his chest, excitement mingling with apprehension. The Fantastic Four could handle Doom, right? They were the protagonists. They didn't need his help.
But no, he had to act.
Peter's gaze sharpened. He needed to officially bring the name "Spider-Man" into the public eye. The Fantastic Four had always been synonymous with heroes. If he could fight alongside them in this debut, no one would question where he stood.
He swung among Manhattan's high-rises. The three-dimensional terrain here was practically tailor-made for him. Just as he rounded onto Madison Avenue, his Spider-Sense suddenly screamed a warning.
Doom had hurled a car at him like a cannonball.
Peter immediately released his web and landed on the hood of the hurtling car. He shot webs from both hands onto the buildings on either side, using the tension to sharply reduce the car's speed. Just as it was about to fall, he yanked hard on the webs, launching himself and the car back toward Doom like a railgun.
"Look out!"
The Fantastic Four all turned at once. Johnny pulled up in a narrow escape, while Peter leaped into the air a moment before impact.
Boom!
The car exploded into a fireball against Victor von Doom. Peter climbed down the building and landed on the street, inwardly marveling. He hadn't expected that move to work so well.
"Holy shit! That was fucking awesome!" Johnny extinguished his flames and landed beside Peter. "Dude, who are you?"
"We'd like to know that too." Reed, Mister Fantastic, and Susan, the Invisible Woman, approached.
"Uh... a friend?" Peter spread his hands.
"I mean, do you have a name?" Ben Grimm, the Thing, asked in a rumbling voice.
Peter pointed at the enormous spider emblem on his jacket. "I'm Spider-Man."
"That sucks!" Johnny scoffed. "Who wants to be called a spider?"
"Really? Then 'Human Flashlight' would suit you pretty well."
Susan snorted with laughter, and the corners of Reed's mouth rose too. The Thing laughed out loud. "Ha! Nice comeback, kid!"
Crash!
The burning wreckage of the car was flung aside, and Victor von Doom stepped out of the flames, his armor still intact.
Peter surveyed his surroundings. Civilians were cowering in corners, and news cameras were pointed at him. Good. Spider-Man had officially made his debut.
"We need to draw him away. There are too many civilian casualties," Peter said.
"Anyone got an idea?" Johnny hovered in midair, flames rising all over him.
"His power is plasma, right?" Peter stared at the arcs of electricity across Doom's body.
"That's right. And he has an extremely advanced suit of armor. Its defenses may rival Stark's," Reed added.
"The river," Peter said decisively. "Get him into the river. Water can short him out."
"Good idea. Ben, can you drag him into the East River?" Reed stretched out his arms and took an attacking stance.
"Leave it to me, Rubber Man." The Thing cracked his knuckles.
"Susan, we'll cover him. Johnny, distract him with fireballs!"
"On it!" Johnny charged straight out.
"I didn't say now!" Reed gritted his teeth and turned to Peter. "Spider-Man, can you lend a hand?"
"Happy to help." Peter leaped onto a streetlight and swung into the battle.
"Eat this, Doom!" The Thing charged like a tank. "It's clobberin' time!"
Doom stood his ground and took the punch head-on. The pavement cracked beneath his feet, but he merely sneered. "As laughable as ever, Ben Grimm."
A bolt of lightning lashed out, knocking the Thing flat on the ground.