The new training plan had been in place for over a week when, that Sunday morning, something happened that shook Peter's understanding of the world.
Uncle Ben was watching the morning news in the living room. The report covered a small explosion at the Baxter Building. To Uncle Ben, it might have been just another local news story, but to Peter, it was a bolt from the blue.
He had always thought this was just the Marvel Cinematic Universe, meaning only events from the movies would exist. But the Baxter Building was the headquarters of Marvel's first family.
The Fantastic Four actually existed.
Peter immediately rushed back to his room and searched online. In this universe, Reed Richards was only twenty-five, Susan was twenty-two, Johnny was a sixteen-year-old boy, Ben Grimm was twenty-five, and Victor von Doom was thirty.
It looked like the Ultimate Universe setup, but the details were completely different. Reed was intelligent and levelheaded, while Victor von Doom was already the ruler of his own country. They had been college classmates, and judging by Victor von Doom's published scientific papers, he thought nothing of Reed and frequently mocked him in his articles.
Peter was at a loss for a moment. That was the Fantastic Four. Did I need to help? No, they could take care of themselves perfectly well. Maybe I could stop by and say hello once I finished my suit, but until then, I'd better stay put.
With that settled, Peter enjoyed a rare, relaxing Sunday. No training, no homework, and best of all, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were visiting friends that afternoon and would not return until late that night.
He had to make use of this time alone. His first priority was sorting out his suit. He opened a shopping website and started browsing, only to be appalled by the terrible options. It was all disgusting, low-quality material. What he really wanted was a suit of armor, but after feeling his empty wallet, he had to abandon that idea.
Not being able to afford armor did not mean he had to wear those disgusting spandex bodysuits. He eventually ordered two pieces of fabric, one red and one black. He had never liked the classic red-and-blue color scheme anyway. If he was going to do this, he might as well go the Ultimate Spider-Man route. Red and black it was.
The fabric would take a few days to arrive, giving him just enough time to learn to sew. He spent the whole morning following sewing tutorials on a video site. It was incredibly tedious work that required no deep thought, and with his genius intellect, mastering it was a breeze.
After Uncle Ben and Aunt May left, Peter changed into clean clothes and went out for some air. He did not want to spend the whole day cooped up inside. Besides, he was in New York now. He had to get out and explore.
He took the train to Manhattan, admiring the street scenes along the way. He was as excited as a tourist, but he did not care. He walked all the way to Harlem to see how things stood there.
It was still in ruins. People were still clearing debris, and although the military had done its best, the extent of the destruction was still shocking. A new organization called Rebuild Harlem was busy at the site.
With his curiosity satisfied, Peter prepared to leave. But as he passed the Apollo Theater, he noticed that the road ahead was still cracked. This was where Hulk and Abomination had first clashed. Following the cracks with his eyes, he could see the enormous crater where Bruce Banner had landed and transformed.
Peter approached the crater. Although police tape surrounded it, clearly no one took it seriously. Quite a few people were taking pictures. He quietly stared at the bottom and was about to leave when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something beneath a rock.
He jumped into the crater and carefully moved the heavy rock aside. Beneath it was a brown stain.
Blood. Hulk's blood.
Peter immediately realized that this stuff was extremely dangerous. Not only was it highly volatile, but it could also trigger all kinds of bizarre mutations. He remembered that in the original story, someone had become superintelligent after coming into contact with this blood, while someone else had mutated outright. What would happen if it entered his body?
He was curious. Of course he would not inject this stuff straight into himself, but he had to figure out what it contained.
He slipped the bloodstained rock into his pants pocket. It was just the right size. After leaving Harlem, he wandered around the city for another hour before heading home.
Back in his basement laboratory, Peter set the rock on the table. He scraped a little dried blood into a test tube and began diluting it. Before long, he had a diluted sample of Hulk's blood ready. He tucked the rock into a hidden compartment beneath his desk, intending to find somewhere safer for it later.
He examined the blood sample under a microscope. Dried blood usually meant dead cells, but Hulk's cells still displayed astonishing activity. He tried adding drops of glucose and carbohydrates, and the nutrients were devoured within seconds. This stuff was practically alive.
After finishing his blood experiments, Peter went out again and headed to the shed at the abandoned train station. He climbed the fence and approached the shed, only to find its doors already open.
Peter frowned inwardly. He always made sure to lock up when he left. Who could be inside? He pushed the door open and stepped in, calling, "Anyone here?"
"What the hell?" An exclamation came from deep inside the shed. Two people emerged from behind a stack of steel beams-Flash and Liz, with Harry and Mary Jane close behind. All four looked stunned to see Peter standing there.
"Parker?!" Flash snarled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Painting the ceiling. What else would you be here for?"
"Hey, Pete!" Harry waved at him with a smile, acting as though they were still best friends-which, to be fair, they once had been, but that was long over. He had probably brought the others here. Peter remembered that he and Harry had discovered this place together years ago. "Just showing my friends this great spot! Didn't think you still came here!"
Peter felt a flicker of unease and answered vaguely, "Sometimes." He glanced sideways and saw that Mary Jane's face was bright red, making him narrow his eyes. Looking at Liz next, he found her hair disheveled and her expression irritated. Flash looked furious, too.
Peter understood at once. "Oh-so you came here to make out. Got it."
Liz's face flushed instantly. "What?! No! Can you get your mind out of the gutter, Parker?"
Peter shrugged. "Not very convincing coming from someone who looks like she just got tossed through a washing machine." His gaze shifted to Mary Jane, whose face grew even redder. "Well, congratulations, then. I'll leave you to it. Remember to lock up when you're done."
He turned to leave, but Mary Jane suddenly spoke. "Wait, Peter." She glanced nervously at Harry. "I should go, too. My aunt will be worried."
Harry looked hurt. "What? Seriously? We just got here."
"Yeah, sorry. See you at school, Harry. Bye, Liz. Bye, Flash." The words had barely left her mouth before she rushed out of the shed as though fleeing.
Peter sighed and followed her outside. At the fence, he gave Mary Jane a boost over it. On the walk back, he finally asked, "So... you and Harry, huh?"
Mary Jane's eyes went wide. "What? No!"
Peter rolled his eyes. "You don't have to lie, Mary Jane. I really don't care who you're with. That's your business, not mine."
Mary Jane looked away and walked toward home in silence. Honestly, Peter had not wanted to get involved, but she seemed so troubled that he could not help wondering whether something had happened between her and Harry.
"He... he thought I wanted to make out," Mary Jane finally said after a long silence.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why would he think that?"
Mary Jane shook her head. "I don't know."
"Mary Jane... did he pressure you into anything?" Peter stopped and asked her.
"What? No! He didn't do anything! It's just..." She looked guilty. "Maybe I acted in a way that gave him the wrong idea. I... it was actually my fault. I'll apologize to him tomorrow."
Peter looked at her, dejected and bending over backward to please someone else. She was nothing like the lively, cheerful girl he had known when he first transmigrated into Peter Parker. There was not a trace of life in her. The sight left him feeling stifled.
"Don't apologize," Peter said. Mary Jane looked up at him in surprise. He explained, "He crossed the line. He made you uncomfortable. He's the one who should apologize, not you. Harry... used to be a friend, I guess, but now he's just an asshole who wants everything his way. Don't indulge him."
Mary Jane froze for a moment, then nodded silently. They walked to her neighborhood, and when they reached the intersection where they would part, she finally said softly, "Peter... thank you. For showing up when you did. I... I know I haven't paid much attention to you lately. I-"
"Enough," Peter interrupted. Just thinking about her apologizing so meekly made him angry. "It's fine. Go home. Remember, don't let him push you around."
"Peter, I really mean it. I know I've barely spoken to you at school lately, and I feel awful about it. I'm sorry."
Peter shrugged. "It's fine. I don't care." With that, he turned and walked away.
Mary Jane called after him, "Peter?"
Without looking back, Peter wished her good night, then went inside and slammed the door shut.
The next two weeks flew by absurdly fast. Training, sneaking off to the rail yard for extra practice, studying like mad, and making his Spider-Man suit filled every moment of Peter's time.
Starting in the second week, Colleen Wing noticeably increased Peter's workload. She had probably recognized his talent and thought he might become one of her best students. She moved him into the advanced class and found all sorts of ways to push him to learn more techniques. Peter never used his full strength, but he gradually came to understand why the Hand trusted her to train prospective members.
School remained dull. Whenever a class covered something he considered useless or already knew, Peter took out another book and studied on his own. He could now hold everyday conversations in French and planned to start learning Spanish next.
Peter did, however, work through plenty of Reed Richards's theories. They were fascinating. They dealt with different dimensions and ways to open passages between them. Of course, he already knew about all that, having come from another world himself, but seeing solid scientific arguments for it still felt incredible.
His solo training at the rail yard grew increasingly challenging. Peter pushed his body's limits again and again, testing how far he could jump, how much weight he could bear, and just how good his flexibility and balance were.
He was growing stronger bit by bit, and thanks to his incredible regeneration, he could train to exhaustion one day and be back at full health the next. Calling it a cheat would have been no exaggeration.
Finally, the fabric Peter had ordered online for his suit arrived.
He followed the classic design, only replacing the blue with black. He had to sew the web pattern himself, cutting the black spandex into thin strips and stitching them onto the red fabric to form the design. He also cut the unused fabric from the lower half of the red outfit to make gloves and leg coverings, sewing nonslip pads onto the soles.
The suit came in two pieces: the top was mainly red, with black panels along the sides and back, while the bottom was entirely black, paired with tall red foot coverings. He also modified the mask so it would not cling tightly to his face, cut eyeholes, and fitted lenses from an old pair of glasses into them as goggles.
When Peter put on the suit and stood before the mirror, he sucked in a sharp breath.
Honestly... it was hideous. It looked pathetically cheap, like a child's scribble on a napkin. The stitches were crooked, and the sizing was a complete mess.
He was simply not cut out to be a tailor. All that effort had been a total waste of time.
Peter stuffed the failed creation into the hidden compartment beneath the floor, where he kept sensitive items. The rock stained with Hulk's blood was there, too.
He did not know what he had been expecting. He had no idea how the original Peter had made his suit, but his own needlework was absolute crap. If he could not make a decent-looking suit, he might as well focus on the web-shooters for now.
Speaking of which, the shooters were progressing smoothly. Peter had made a bracelet-style base that he could wear directly on his wrist. The central firing mechanism was the key. He added a dial on top to adjust the webbing's discharge pressure, allowing him to fire different types of webs. It was certainly a hassle to make, but well worth it.
The weekend came again, and Peter took the train to the dojo. They usually had weekends off, but Colleen said she had something else planned and told him to prepare for training that more closely resembled actual combat.
As he approached the now thoroughly familiar building, Peter saw several classmates already waiting. One had made a particularly strong impression on him: a Black boy named Marcus. Peter remembered seeing him in Iron Fist. He would later join the Hand, but for now, he was still just a kid.
"Peter, over here!" Marcus waved at him.
"Hey, Marcus." Peter nodded and greeted the others, who merely nodded back. "Anyone know what we're training today?"
"Didn't the teacher tell you?" asked a girl named Agatha, whom everyone called Aggie.
Peter shrugged. "Just said it was interactive training."
"Here's the deal. We're going to 'rob' our teacher," Marcus explained.
Peter blinked. "Have you lost your mind? What are you talking about?"
The kids around them laughed, and Marcus continued explaining. Colleen was teaching them practical combat skills-basically, training them to work as a group to corner a target. Everyone else thought it was just practice in stealth and teamwork, but Peter knew exactly what it was: the Hand's assassin training, grooming future killers.
"So where's our teacher?" Peter asked.
"Ms. Wing's hiding somewhere in the city. Our job is to find her, catch her off guard and take her sword, then get back to the dojo before she catches us. If we make it back safely, we win!"
Peter could almost see the future: it would no longer be hide-and-seek, but locating and eliminating targets. Running back to the dojo would become withdrawing to an extraction point. The people in the Hand really were both clever and twisted.
After another hour, nearly everyone had arrived, and they began dividing into teams. They usually chose their own groups, but since Peter was still new and inexperienced, he was assigned to a team with Marcus, a boy named Brandon, and Aggie.
The four planned to look nearby for clues first. Most of the other groups ran around aimlessly, but Marcus insisted on checking a few places Colleen frequented. They ended up wasting an hour. Who knew whether Colleen had gone to Harlem, downtown, or all the way to Queens?
Then Peter suddenly had an idea. He asked himself, What would Batman do? How would he track the Joker?
There was his answer.
Think like the target. Peter began working through it from Colleen's perspective: what was her objective? Training her students. Then she certainly would not go too far. She would need an open area where a woman carrying a sword would not stand out, and where her students could not succeed with a sneak attack.