"Hey, Victor! Try this!" Johnny fired a barrage of fireballs. Doom did not budge, and the flames bounced off his armor.
"Johnny, Johnny, you were always the weakest." Doom flicked a finger, firing a high-voltage arc straight into Johnny's abdomen and sending him flying.
"Johnny!" Peter swung over to catch him and landed on a nearby rooftop. Johnny's flames had gone out, and he was unconscious. Doom's current had overloaded his nervous system.
Susan raised a force field to protect Reed, but the spilling energy was closing in on civilians. They had to create an opening.
Peter scanned the rooftop and fixed his eyes on a massive central air-conditioning duct. This building gave off an astonishing amount of heat, so the bottom of the duct had to be insulated. It was not perfect, but it was the only opening he had at hand.
He rushed over, punched off half a section of the duct, tucked it under his arm, took a deep breath, and leaped off the roof.
As he swung to the highest point like a pendulum, Peter released his web and plunged straight toward Doom with the duct. "Bite me, Doom!"
Doom had barely looked up when Peter slammed into him, pinning him down with the duct. The tremendous recoil left every bone in Peter's body aching as if he had fallen apart, but he forced himself up, switched his Silk-Shooters to hardening mode, and sprayed webs wildly, wrapping the duct and Doom into a cocoon.
"What the hell is this?!" Doom struggled, plasma sparks bursting from the gaps in his armor, but the insulation blocked the current perfectly.
"Good work, kid!" Reed seized the chance to stretch his arm and grab Doom. Susan immediately raised an invisible force field around Doom, carried him straight up into the sky, and threw him into the East River.
The crisis was over, but Peter felt his vision begin to blur. Everything around him took on a blood-red tint. He reached up to touch his head, and his hand came away covered in blood-his skull had cracked.
"How interesting..." His vision went black, and he fell backward into the rubble, losing consciousness completely.
After an unknown amount of time, Peter opened his eyes to the ticking of instruments. He lay on a medical bed with monitoring electrodes attached to his chest. His whole body ached, but he had no broken bones.
He reached for his face, and his heart sank-his mask was gone!
He turned to look out the window. Night had fallen, and outside was a drop of several hundred meters. This was not a hospital. It was the Baxter Building.
The door opened, and Johnny, Reed, and Susan walked in.
"You woke up pretty fast." Johnny grinned.
Peter pulled off the electrodes, grabbed the clothes beside him, and put them on, slipping his mask and Silk-Shooters into his pockets. "Looks like you've already run facial recognition."
Reed nodded. "Sorry, Peter."
"Damn it, my secret identity." Peter rubbed his temples and took out his phone, finding two missed calls from Uncle Ben.
He called back immediately. "Hey, Uncle Ben."
"Peter! Thank goodness! Where are you? Your Aunt May is worried sick!"
"Sorry, Uncle Ben. Marcus asked me to help him study for tomorrow's chemistry quiz, and I... I lost track of time." Peter lied without batting an eye.
There were two seconds of silence on the other end before Uncle Ben spoke sternly. "It's all right, but when you get home, we need to have a serious talk about your attitude lately. Have you had dinner?"
"Yeah, Marcus's mom made pasta. Tell Aunt May I'm sorry."
After hanging up, Peter met Reed's suspicious gaze. "You're terrible at lying."
"I'm not proud of it." Peter shrugged.
Susan suddenly spoke. "You actually showed up during the battle in Harlem, didn't you? The person in the red hoodie who helped Hulk fight Abomination-that was you."
Peter nodded. "That was me. I've been doing little odds and ends behind the scenes lately."
"Don't worry, we won't reveal your identity." Susan smiled as she explained, "After you passed out, I used my invisibility to bring you into the building. It's safe here."
Peter followed them out of the medical room and through corridors filled with high-tech equipment. Reed and Susan explained the building's current situation: funding was plentiful, but they were losing a great deal of talent.
"His name is Doom," Reed said, his tone complicated as he mentioned the man in the green cloak. "He used to be... my friend."
When they reached the living room, the television was showing street interviews. Grainy screenshots of Peter fighting Doom in his red jacket played over and over.
The reactions from passersby were mixed. Some thought he was too reckless, while others called him a menace who attracted villains, but quite a few young people praised him for being cool and courageous.
Peter was secretly pleased. His debut alongside the Fantastic Four had maxed out the publicity benefits.
"They're right. You really do lack experience, and you're too reckless." Reed habitually began to lecture him.
Susan shot him a glare. "He was just trying to help."
Reed immediately shut his mouth. Peter took the opportunity to speak. "That's actually why I've stayed in the shadows until now. Once you're in the spotlight, the public's expectations can become suffocating."
"At least the Baxter Building made the headlines for free this time," Susan said with a smile.
"By the way, what happened to Doom? Didn't he go to prison?" Peter asked.
Reed gritted his teeth. "He's the prince of Latveria. He has diplomatic immunity. He just waltzed back home."
Thing poked his head out from behind the couch, his stomach growling. "Can we eat yet?"
Johnny pulled five boxes of frozen pizza out of the fridge and heated them directly with his flames. The edges were a little charred, but the meat pizzas filled the air with their aroma.
At the dinner table, Peter briefly told them his origin story.
"Wait, you got superpowers from a spider bite? That's such a stupid premise!" Johnny scoffed.
"It wasn't an ordinary spider. It was genetically modified and irradiated." Peter rolled up his sleeves to reveal the Silk-Shooters on his wrists. "And the webs aren't natural. I invented the formula. It solidifies on contact with air."
Reed's eyes lit up. "You invented it yourself? That's incredible."
Johnny dropped his joking expression too. "Nice work, man. As something of an inventor myself, I know how hard that is."
After dinner, everyone sat in the living room. Susan looked at Peter. "Peter, would you like to work at the Baxter Building?"
Peter froze. "What?"
"Your grades and inventions prove that you're exceptionally gifted," Susan said seriously. "The building is meant for geniuses. You'd have your own lab, project funding, and a monthly salary. You'd retain ownership of your patents. Maybe you could even make yourself some new gear."
Thing added in his gravelly voice, "And if you need an alibi while you're out fighting, you can always say you're working overtime in the lab."
"That's an awesome idea!" Johnny cheered.
Peter looked at them, suppressing his excitement. "It would be an honor. Honestly, I really do need this job and the salary."
Susan stood and shook his hand. "Welcome to the Baxter Foundation. It's getting late. Head home before your aunt and uncle worry."
Late that night, Peter swung through the New York sky and climbed through his bedroom window.
Aunt May and Uncle Ben were waiting in the living room, fully prepared. For the next hour, Peter endured a storm of scolding.
"So, what exactly do you have to say for yourself?" Aunt May finally paused for breath.
Peter looked them in the eyes. "I got a job."
They both froze.
"I lied about Marcus. I actually went to Madison Avenue to watch the Fantastic Four fight Doom. I helped out a little, Johnny saw me, and Susan invited me to the building. I was late because I was interviewing at the Baxter Building." Peter said it all in one breath, bracing himself for another round of fury.
But Uncle Ben spoke first, his eyes full of pride. "That's wonderful, Peter! I'm proud of you!"
He stepped forward and hugged Peter tightly. Peter sucked in a breath from the pain but clenched his teeth without making a sound. He absolutely could not let them discover that he was covered in injuries.
"Peter, you don't have to work so hard to make money." Aunt May sighed.
"Aunt May, this is my life. Inventing things, owning my own patents, and making money too-it's perfect."
Uncle Ben patted Aunt May's shoulder, then turned to Peter. "Lying is wrong, Peter. But I understand your intentions. You're a good kid, and we'll be proud of you."
Peter smiled. Spider-Man had been born, and he had a job and a family. He was gradually adjusting to his identity as Peter Parker.
The next day, Peter walked into school with a spring in his step. His mind was full of new equipment he could develop using the building's resources.
The first class was English. Harry kept sneaking glances at him from the corner, which Peter simply put down to a guilty conscience. Mary Jane and Liz were chatting, and Flash was asleep.
"Quiet, everyone." The English teacher stepped up to the front of the classroom. "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce a new transfer student. She's joining us a little late, so I hope you'll all help her out. Come in, Miss Hardy."
The door opened, and a girl walked in. Her long, silvery-blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and tight jeans outlined her long, slender legs. She wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt.
Her expression was languid, as if everything around her was beneath her notice. She merely muttered a casual, "Yo."
Peter froze on the spot, his brain instantly crashing.
Felicia Hardy. Black Cat.
He had actually forgotten all about this.