Responsibility - A Spider-Man Transmigration Story

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Peter, a twenty-year-old lifetime orphan gets transmigrated into the body of Peter Parker. Find out what happens when he decides it isn't worth living a lie just to be a hero. Transmigrated Peter Parker. Avengers, X-men, etc.
Think of this as the spiritual opposite of most SI/transmigration stories.
1. Prologue
A/N: So I uploaded this fic on ffnet a few months back. I've heard I'd get more constructive criticism on SpaceBattles and here. This is the first fiction or fanfiction I have attempted to write and I'm pretty lost. I hope to improve a lot this year and hopefully some people can even enjoy the content. Given that, I'd appreciate any feedback/thoughts you have about the content. Thanks!

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Prologue

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My first week as Peter Parker was...humbling, to say the least.

I was never the most responsible person. With barely two decades of life experience, I hadn't had the chance to get my act together. I was a mediocre student and an uninspired programmer. In fact, I've been called self-destructive. I knew this. So of course, the thought of filling Peter Parker's shoes was daunting. I knew that I'd probably just have to try as hard to fake it as I could, for as long as I had to.

That pretty much summed up my attitude towards my baffling presence in this strange multi-verse. I was given no explanation. There were no clues. No rules. I simply woke up in the body of a six-year-old miraculous accident survivor, Peter Parker. Peter had been in an accident and I woke up in his body at the hospital. My guess is that 'Peter' died and I had somehow occupied his reanimated body.

At first living Peter's life seemed easy. We already shared the same first name so answering to it was not a problem. It was a trade up, even. I thought I was a fairly intelligent person before, but Peter Parker's brain functioned on a different level. Look at it this way: I was able to relearn much my life's education - from school to college material - over a sparingly few years. As a toddler. Now, imagine how much Peter Parker must have actually known having functioned at that mental capacity for his entire life. Sure, it was rather intense study; but still, it really cut you down to size.

Of course, he was only a child when I took over, so he had not had the opportunity to ever flourish into his intellect. I made the decision very early on that I would not let his potential go to waste.

Finding the right words to say in the middle of a fight just to annoy my enemies seemed like it would be easy. I always seemed to have all the information and words I needed at the forefront of my mind and the tip of my tongue. It was odd. I could imagine why Peter Parker found it so entertaining, when he took up the mantle of Spider-Man.

In fact, Peter's mind was so interesting to me, I took up meditation. My everyday observations were so distinctly different now that it was almost necessary. I was always more aware, details I would gloss over before now contrast sharply in my mind. I seemed to make conclusions before conscious thought, and it felt like I was adjusting in some way.

Needless to say, the meditation helped me. It was not something I would ever have had the discipline to do in my old life; but like most things, it seemed simple in the body of Peter Parker.

By the time I had settled into his life well enough for introspection, the thoughts of comic books and heroes were far from my mind. My surroundings felt far too organic for me to think about comic book timelines and movies. The people around me were clearly real and had their own motives.

Whatever little information I could glean from my frantic research when I first arrived offered no clues to some overarching storyline — I got just a smattering of barely familiar names and historical events for my efforts.

It seemed ridiculous to expect something to happen simply because it was written that way in my old life. I should have known better because I now firmly believe that the universe tends to bend the world around the same patterns.

Which is honestly quite frightening. The thought that something was moulding the entire universe around me to its whims. It would be the height of arrogance to say I was not affected the same way.

But I digress.

The sheer amount of love and respect Peter felt for his Aunt May and Uncle Ben was staggering.

At least, that's what the comics said. I had not magically obtained Peter's memories and feelings. Which was unfortunate because accomplishing Peter's daily routine was hard enough as it was.

Peter Parker was a nerd. The only reason I had any idea how to imitate his day in the first place was because of his extensive note keeping. This kid was insane. Hadn't he ever heard of a voice recorder? I mean, a ton of those scribbles were just general observations. He was just a six-year-old for Christ's sake.

From his doodles, I got the impression that he didn't have a lot of friends. Most people didn't get along with him and he tended to find them pretty boring too. That didn't mean he hadn't been lonely though. Pretty much the only people in Peter's life were his Aunt and Uncle, they were his world.

His notes were chock full of his plans for the future, various titbits of information and observations and even remarkably well thought out pranks and toys.

I dove into living a facade of his life with a rather sickening willingness. Something I've long since began thinking of as an insult to not only him, but aunt May and Uncle Ben as well.

And I suppose they are the root of the problem.

As an orphan, the love and devotion they showered on 'Peter' was addictive. I was living the childhood I had always wanted, and I loved it. But as I said, the world felt organic. It took three years before the haze shook off and I realised how horribly I was treating the only two parental figures I have ever had.

Sure, I was the perfect nephew. I got the best grades. Did not get into fights. Helped aunt May around the house as much as I could. But I was not actually Peter. I was just pretending to be him as well as I could.

After years of waiting for the ball to drop, I had almost accepted that I was stuck in Peter Parker's body for good. Which meant that I would have to continue this lie for the rest of my life. Just the thought of it made my skin crawl.

But what could I do about it? I was always a non-confrontational person. Simply telling Uncle Ben and Aunt May made me anxious and, as a plus, it was logically insane so maybe that was not the best idea.

But they deserved to know.

Their nephew was dead, and I had been lying to them for over two years. The thought of continuing such a lie to people so good was abhorrent to me. Copping out because of the off chance they put me in a mental asylum was not acceptable. I know them, they would never do that to Peter. It would be hard, but it had to be done.

"May, Ben; we need to talk," I said, deciding to drop the honorifics. It felt wrong to use them given the conversation I was trying to have.

"What is it Peter?" Aunt May asked worriedly. She left the kitchen and sat on the couch by Uncle Ben, folding her oven mitts out of the way.

Uncle Ben looked just as concerned as I fidgeted and shifted by the TV in front of them. I had come into this half-cocked but thank Peter Parker for his intellect.

"I'm sure you've noticed me behave differently over the past two years." I started.

"Where is this coming from, son?" said Uncle Ben while May squeezed his shoulder worriedly.

The accident two three years ago was a rough time for them. Peter had been in a coma for two weeks and May and Ben had no idea if he would wake or not. By the time I had entered Peter's body it was fairly well recovered, and I did not have to suffer much of the effects of the accident. Of course, I was still in the hospital for a week of observation and I had a month of prescription drugs to take. But I still believe I got off easy.

"There's something you need to know."
 
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2. Chapter 1
Chapter 1

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I sighed as I looked in the mirror. It had been almost a year since I came clean to Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It was rough to say the least. They were very concerned that their nephew was suicidal or something. I don't recall how that conversation went or why I left that impression, but somehow the message didn't quite make it across. That, or they simply did not believe me.

It had not occurred to me that they were just as conflicted as I was. They had faith in Peter's intelligence and hearing such things from their six-year-old nephew's mouth unnerved them greatly. So of course, I went to see Psychologists. I even told them quite a lot. I always made it a point to say that I believed I was from another universe, one where a lot of people - including myself - were characters of fiction. Initially, they took it in stride. They seemed to appreciate that I was not acting out.

Eventually, though they all grew frustrated with my childish fantasies. I still believe they simply did not like the fact that they were completely inconsequential in my, supposedly, made up world. I must have run into some bad eggs because I knew for a fact that my 'delusions' weren't all that unheard of.

Patients who believe they are separate from the world, or the only real person, or even strangers in their bodies are all well documented psychoses. It should not have been so hard to be my 'therapist', but then again, I made it a point to recount only the most ridiculous stories. A matter I will not deny being immature about.

The few who had the patience to stick around, did admittedly help me - talking about my old world was cathartic - regardless of whether they believed me or not.

Meanwhile, I carried on with my life as well as I could. I could see this...conflict was hard on May. She was anaemic and it seemed to be acting up a lot lately. Throwing myself into making her feel better was natural and I did everything I could to keep things intact. I still went to school, still helped May around the house, still watched ball with Uncle Ben. But there was always a conversation hanging over our heads, an elephant in the room.

Receiving their affection now came with a fresh dose of guilt for me and a dollop of worry for them. But despite this… they were the best parents I could ever ask for. Their sole motivation for making me see psychologists was to try and understand what I was failing to communicate to them. They kept believing that I was either speaking in riddles or PTSD had somehow hurt my mind in some way. Either way, they accepted it. All they wanted was to know how they could make things better.

It was bittersweet and frustrating as hell. Facts had not worked; the psychologists did not help either. It would be easy to say that telling them was a mistake, but I know I did the right thing. Eventually I will figure out how to show them the truth and when that happens at least they will know I had stopped deceiving them as soon as I wizened up. Whatever little comfort that may give me.

I sighed again as I looked back at the 'facade' in the mirror. It would have been easier if Peter did not look so much like the old me. Peter Parker had the same brown windswept hair as I had, even our facial features were eerily similar. In fact, a non-biased observer may even say that Peter and my old body looked exactly the same. But somehow Peter's face looked more angled to me. His hazel eyes, more vivid than my own.

I sighed again as I struggled with my tie.

"Do you need some help with that young man," said Aunt May from the doorway. A faint smile graced her face. She was wearing a yellow sun-dress covered by a thick kitchen apron. Despite the crow's feet beginning to appear by her eyes and her often sickly disposition, Aunt May always surprised me with her vibrancy.

Her thick brown hair was seemingly ageless, and her diminutive form did nothing to stop her from demanding the attention of a room by sheer force of competence. I could not imagine a stronger role model for Peter Parker, arguably the world's greatest superhero.

"You're a lifesaver aunt May, I'll get this down...someday," I muttered as she pulled the two ends of the necktie and got to work. She was done impossibly quickly.

"Thanks Aunt May, you're the best." I give her a hug and cherish it for a moment before I decide I've had enough guilty pleasure and let go.

"Are you ready, young man?"

"You still haven't told me who this new Doc is May. If it helps, I prefer Matt Smith" I rolled my eyes at her cheekily through the mirror.

Nobody in the Parker household watched Doctor Who, but a good reference was a good reference, regardless if anybody caught it.

As it often does in homes with obstacles like physical or mental impediments (my little sister was not a problem in my old life, thank you very much). We had become a little bit blasé with the topic of my ongoing therapy. The fact that I needed a psychologist was definitely something we all hated and worried about, but humour is how the Parker household has learnt to deal with problems all our lives. This was no exception.

I heard a deep chuckle behind Aunt May. "Let's go squirt. We have an appointment to keep." I loved how Uncle Ben would show his appreciation for a joke, even if he didn't quite have the same interests.

May stroked the back of my head and half-answered my question mysteriously, "Don't worry I'm sure you know of them."

We took Uncle Ben's truck straight downtown. It worried me because paying the bills for a psychologist in the middle of New York City would be incredibly hard for Ben and May. But I had learnt early on, not to get in their way when it comes to these decisions. They were single minded in their determination to help me and no amount of griping about money would stop them.

As we sat in the immaculate waiting room, Ben turned to me and asked, "So how's school champ?" He was sitting with a newspaper open and a cup of coffee, courtesy of the receptionist who greeted us moments before.

"Uncle Ben," I whined. "You know what I think about school. The teachers like me." I added noncommittally.

Uncle Ben folded the paper away and gave me a stern look, peering over his horn-rimmed glasses. He had the sort of face you would call 'kind'; his short, white, and scruffy beard only enhanced that grandfatherly look.

"Peter," he admonished. "If you don't interact with the other kids then you'll never even get the chance to find something in common."

"Yes, yes, making connections is important," I said more dismissively than I intended.

"It's not just that Peter," corrected Uncle Ben. "This is an important life skill. Forget about everything else. I want you to learn how to act in context. Years from now you will be working with groups of people no matter where you are. I simply have to make sure you can participate and communicate no matter where you are."

He shifted in his seat. "I worry about you Peter. You seem to think the problems with your…current mindset will simply go away with time. But how can I be sure of that? As a parent, I worry."

"Yes, Uncle Ben," I sighed a blanket agreement as reassurance.

An early 'trick' the Parker household learnt from the more successful therapy sessions was to not challenge my claim. Dealing with delusions was a delicate process and oftentimes the strategy was to be open-minded. To discuss your view, that is, the rational view of the delusion and work together.

It worked wonders and I could clearly see where he was coming from. But school was boring the first time around and I didn't really think that would change any time soon.

I could see why Peter Parker built his habit of note keeping. It started with simply doodling in class to pass the boredom. It wasn't long however, before I was noting down my own thoughts as often as Peter had.

It was in this time where I theorised about the things Peter had created to help him be Spider-Man. There was the web shooter, of course. And I'm sure he added a whole bunch of other interesting gadgets and features, but as a ten-year-old, I hardly had access to cutting edge R&D technology.

But what I could do, was basic chemistry. It would surprise you to know the number of chemical processes you can successfully accomplish with a basic chemistry set and some creativity.

De-fragmentation, distillation, a whole number of extraction techniques all for the cost of a simple excuse to Uncle Ben saying I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up. It didn't make me too guilty, because technically I did.

It had taken some time, but I finally had a working prototype for the infamous web fluid. The key was in nylons and protein polymerisation chaining. It took a lot of experimentation on household products and chemicals, but I was able to isolate a number of compounds and come up with a passable process.

All I was missing was something to give it a boost to its tensile strength. It was still barely capable of lifting a few pounds.

I discovered that my formula allowed the web to absorb water molecules to strengthen itself, but even that wasn't nearly enough. I had no idea whether this was how it was supposed to be or if I had unknowingly made an improvement to the formula. The discovery made me realise that I should test things extensively, even if I think they should work a certain way based on my past life's memories.

It felt strange to me that this web-fluid didn't exist in my old world – for more practical applications, of course. I mean it wasn't that hard to come up with the shear-thinning liquid.

But what if the laws of physics or the properties of materials were somehow different in this universe? I was nowhere near knowledgeable enough in my old world to compare the two to find the truth. But it was a humbling thought. I mean, the very fabric of existence had probably changed, and I could barely tell the difference.

Sure, I had been studying quite hard to make myself worthy of Peter's brains. But Peter Parker, Reed Richards and Tony Stark put together couldn't possibly learn enough about both worlds to know the minute differences between the two that made all this possible.

Despite my success with the web fluid, the web shooter's themselves on the other hand were another problem altogether. I was too young for certain power and electronic tools and I refrained from asking for them to avoid Ben's admonishments. So, putting together the shooters was just a series of janky hacks. The end result was not pretty to say the least.

I had taken the motor out of an 'RC' car, but it proved to be too weak and too big to really be functional. While the motor I had did not have the power to propel my web pellets very far, I made significant progress in the pellets themselves and added multiple modes to the shooters. The maximum distance for what I call a web bomb - the heaviest pellet in my arsenal - was a mere half meter. Thus, for now the slinger itself remained a novelty at best, a glorified pee shooter.

Thankfully, the doctor's receptionist interrupted the familiar silence induced by questions about my school life and we were on our way to meet the esteemed doctor.

"Welcome Messrs. Parker," said a cool voice in a distinctly British accent.

I looked at the source and blushed.

It was Dr. Frost. Fuck.

I had quite literally run into her a week ago. Or rather, she had run into me, I suppose. I was photographing a puppy outside the coffee shop Aunt May worked at, waiting for her to be done with her shift. The little Labrador runt had been leashed to the hydrant by the entrance just moments before. I had assured the jogger that I'd watch his dog while he grabbed his coffee.

I'd always wanted a dog, but it was impossible at the orphanage in my old life, and I couldn't add that responsibility to the shoulders of Ben and May. But dogs were the best.

Anyhoo.

She must have been on her phone as she exited the café because I was soon trampled and drenched in – thankfully – cold coffee. She apologised an appropriate amount and I found myself forgiving her quite easily despite her unsettlingly chilling blue eyes.

As she assured me that she would pay to launder my jacket she must have noticed the camera I was fiddling around with. It was an ancient thing. Kept together by sheer force of will. Uncle Ben gave me this thing a year after the accident and I have refused to allow it to die ever since. Why you may ask? Well, it was Richard Parker's old camera. I owed it to Peter to maintain it.

Being a near twenty-year-old in a pre-pubescent body was hard enough as it was. But with the onset of puberty and hormones, it was bound to get even more challenging. So, while I struggled with handling my worry for the camera and my hots for the blonde angel in front of me, she leaned down to me and handed me a business card.

"That camera looks important. I want you to call or email me if I have damaged it in any way, okay young man?" she says almost gently as I take the card. Still simply blinking dumbly. I thought I saw her hand twitch towards my face before she simply turned around and left.

I had, of course, not charged her for anything. I did however send her an email. I explained that I had fixed the camera myself and had attached pictures and explanations she probably didn't need or have the time to read. It was an email that I immediately regretted sending out of embarrassment.

So now I had to interact with a gorgeous woman who might even think I was faking a mental disorder to be her client. I sighed. Sometimes Aunt May and Uncle Ben just didn't think things through. Then again, jumping in half-cocked to save the day was the Parker way. And it sure as hell worked for Peter Parker.

"My name is Dr. Emma Frost," she started.

Double Fuck.

I won't lie. I had a little bit of a panic attack when I heard that name. This was the first time I had actually interacted with a person whose name I recognised. Granted, I didn't know all that much about Emma Frost other than her telepathic abilities – which I guess would make her a good psychologist. But I had the impression that she was neither always good nor evil. She, like everyone else, was her own person. While the comics of my past had portrayed her on the wrong side of morality more often than not, it seemed she had yet to stray.

Besides, I had long since lost the ability to think of the people in this world in that way. The stories from my world were…inconsistent to say the least. Most characters are evil as often as they are good, and I refused to put myself in a box when I knew I would have to live with the consequences of my actions. Can you imagine engineering the death of Magneto only to realise Charles Xavier and Max never had a falling out in this world?

So, despite not being certain of her character or even her identity – though the blonde hair, blue eyes and enchanting face were points in favour of it – I decided quite easily to dive into this half-cocked. The Parker way.

Why? I guess the fact she was able to notice the importance of the camera and did what she could to help earned her some trust. Then again, she could have just read my mind.

Yep, I'm screwed.
 
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3. Chapter 2
Chapter 2

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Before I knew it, Uncle Ben had left me in the gracious care of the 'White Queen'. I didn't know what earned her the name, but the name itself was sufficiently menacing.

"So, Peter, I noticed your camera is back to full function." It was odd to see her face so impassive when her words were kind.

I was a little thrown off before I got my bearings together. This was just small talk, like all psychologists tend to do. They simply never found anything to talk about that actually interested me. Sure, one of them had noticed the camera. They assumed I was passionate about photography, but it was never about the photos for me.

"It was your father's." She didn't really ask, and I wondered if she had read my mind.

"Richard Parker's, yes."

"I've spoken at length with Ben and May." She set herself up to prove to me that she's on my side. To show she understood at least some part of my thoughts. All psychologists did it. They needed to find common ground with my beliefs so that we could work together to understand each other, or some other such nonsense.

"If Richard Parker isn't really your father, why do you care so much about the camera?" Once again throwing me off, this time with her almost contentious attitude.

"Peter would have wanted to keep it safe."

"Peter as in, Richard Parker's real son," she prompted as if to clarify.

"Yep." I said with my eyes close, popping the 'p' at the end.

"Forgive me Mr. Park-" she stopped scribbling in her pad momentarily and looked up at me, somehow noticing I was uncomfortable being called Mr. Parker. "Peter, but what does that have to do with you?" she asked.

"Well, it would be the right thing to do for one."

"In case the real Peter came back?"

"Well no. I don't actually think he's coming back. I mean, not anymore. Maybe he really did just die that day," I said.

I noticed she didn't like that answer because she pursed her lips and scribbled aggressively some more.

"I just think that it may be my fault that Peter is dead, I owe it to him to at least not fuck up his life in some way. Even if I can't quite live up to his name."

She liked that answer even less. It was the cussing wasn't it? It was probably the cussing.

"Well from where I'm standing it looks to me that your attachment to your birth parents could be a thing that has survived this new…development to your mentality. Perhaps the need to take care of that camera is simply your subconscious fighting back, as it were."

"You don't believe me then."

"I do not."

I sighed with a defeated finality. My shoulders dropped considerably and I no doubt just looked like a ten-year-old who was denied ice cream.

"Which is why, you're going to have to convince me."

"Huh?" This was significantly different from any of my other appointments.

"Ben and May say you're a very intelligent young man. Your email," she smiled, "was enough proof for me. I have long since believed that our control over our own minds and bodies far surpasses what we think. I'm fairly certain that an intelligent man such as yourself will either convince me or will rationalise my arguments appropriately."

With her pitch done, she adjusts herself in her seat. She sat in front of me with one leg crossed over the other. She wore red heels and a white dress that ran from her shoulders to below her knees. It was form fitting, but very professional. It was clear she even dressed like the character I recalled.

I decided it was time to bite the bullet. This was a leap of faith I would have to take if it meant I might be able to convince another person of my situation. Anyone would do. Start small and work from there, that's what I say.

"Well I'm sure you have many arguments to convince me," I ventured, "and I've read quite a lot on psychology myself." I look at her in the eyes. This was serious now. All childish thoughts aside, I had to make her see that I was not merely a love-struck ten-year-old. I knew things about her that would not only make her very angry but could also get me killed. "But the only way I could convince you to see it my way, would be if you read my mind."

There. I said it.

And she laughed. Fuck.

With a beautiful woman laughing at my words, I was considerably less confident, but I barged ahead regardless.

"Your name is Emma Frost. Your father's name is Winston Frost. You have two sister's and a brother. A brother who might be gay, in case you didn't know." I began to ramble. Without taking a breath I continued, "Don't look at me like that, I'm not a stalker, I'm eleven for Christ's sake - sort of." I shook my head and carry on, "The names Max Eisenhardt, Scott Summers or Ian Kendall may mean something to y-"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "Ian Kendall was my professor while I studied for my doctorate. Why would you know that name?"

That is when things started to change. It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped three degrees.

Finally, I finished, "and you're a telepath."

Her light blue eyes had almost solidified. Their colour had shifted so much they practically shined like diamonds. "I take it I am a character in this world of yours," she asked coolly.

"Um, yes." And then suddenly I could feel her rooting around my head. I experienced thoughts as she did and could clearly feel her almost ripping through my mind to find out why I know what I did about her. She was not kind as she stole memories of her portrayals as I had seen them and my impressions of her; and she knew everything.

I reeled back from her, somehow breaking contact by willpower alone. It's true I wanted her to see the truth, but this felt wrong. And it was painful.

She seemed equally shocked by the disconnection. Undoubtedly, she would have searched for as much information as she could get from me.

"You hadn't been reading my mind all this time?" I gasped out. "I mean, I sort of assumed you had already read my mind and the fact that I was still in one piece was evidence that you wanted to help me, somehow" I trailed off. I was breathing hard and scared out of my mind.

Here I was, face to face with a powerful telepath. Who I had probably severely pissed off? In the body of a nearly eleven-year-old powerless Peter Parker.

What was the safe word again?

I wilted under her stare. She was barely in her twenties; she would have been only a few years older than me in my past life at best. Yet the combination of behaviourally acting like a child and the sheer competency of her gaze was paralysing.

"Your name was Peter," she started.

I could only nod my head. I had gone by Peter Calvert in my past, but I wasn't really attached to the name 'Calvert'. It always felt like something assigned to me by the orphanage, a replacement for a family I would never have.

"You were born an orphan and dealt a really shitty start in life."

Well I couldn't argue with that.

"You were an uninterested student and that only carried on to your work life. You put no effort nor love into your work. You just needed the money."

Harsh but true, I suppose.

"Despite needing to fend for yourself your whole life, you took care of your fellow orphan. A bipolar girl, trapped in the mind of an eight your old."

"Hey now, someone had to take care of Cali-"

"And despite all that weight you had on your shoulders, which you carried without a hint of complaint, I might add; you still believed you could not fill the shoes of a six-year-old."

"I never claimed- Hey, now, what?" I stumbled on my words; the conversation was not going where I expected it to at all. "Aren't we going to talk about all the comics and movies?!" I nearly shouted in bewilderment.

"Mr. Parker left you with me so we could work together to understand what you're thinking and make you feel better. Your parents are very worried for you, Peter. Comic books and heroes have nothing to do with this. We'll open that particular can of beans at a later date," she said with perhaps the most expressive face I have seen yet. The dislike was palpable.

"You, young man, are critically self-depreciating. And it is not healthy. You do realise that in this world that you've come to inhabit – and find as real as your old one, I might add; Peter Parker was a six-year-old boy. It is a tragic loss, certainly. But you and I both know you came to terms with that a while ago," she admonished as she got off her seat and approached the couch I was sitting on.

"And in some ways so did Ben and May," she finished now sitting beside me and rubbing my back.

Her words and actions provided little comfort in my confusion. Something she probably noticed as she continued, "Ben and May both know that something had died within their nephew that night. Peter had lived with them only a year prior to the accident. Did you even know that?"

I was stumped. I hadn't, in fact, known that. I had been under the impression that Peter had simply taken up note making a year before my arrival, which is why I didn't know much about his life with his biological parents.

"So, the accident was a rough time, May and Ben knew things would never be the same. But you came back home, and while strangely reserved, you were still a delightful child to have."

I opened my mouth to speak and she interrupted me, "Their words, not mine."

"So now, tell me, what exactly have you been failing to live up to?"

"Spider-Ma-"

"Spider-Man does not exist. Not yet anyway. Everything you think you know is a possibility Peter. Do you think you're the only person with knowledge they shouldn't have or don't want?"

"You do realise that there is such a thing as a precog? How do you think they deal with all the possibilities for the future? You do what you can, and you hope for the best, Peter."

How do you comb your hair? The question enters my mind unbidden, in the voice of Deborah Ann Woll, from Daredevil. I almost snickered, the Parker tendency to find humour in unfortunate situations having struck me truly.

Dr. Frost's curiosity must have overcome her because I felt a light touch on my mind. A far cry from the pain I felt before. This felt more like a gentle prod, almost a pleading question. She already knew my most embarrassing thoughts of her so allowing this seemed inconsequential in comparison.

"You are so strange," she said as she looked at me. "You've been so busy pretending to be Ben and May's nephew that you've deprived them of a son. You do know that's how they think of you don't you? And don't tell me you don't think of them as parent figures. Perhaps it's time to stop being the best version of Peter Parker, and simply be the best version of yourself, hmm?" Once again, her face is almost impassive, despite warm words.

My face heated up, she was sitting rather close to me and now that conversation had lulled, I found myself praying that she wouldn't look into my mind again. She would not have appreciated my stray thoughts.

I did not feel anything against my mind that time, but she said, "I don't use my abilities often you know," as though she had read me.

"In fact, I have never so far, needed to use it in my line of work. Despite the fact that I deal mostly with irregularities of the mind. If a patient can be helped without the interference of my abilities, then that is always the first step. I'm honestly surprised I had not run into a problem counselling wouldn't fix sooner. Then again, my practice is quite new."

She smiled brightly and rubbed the top head. This being the first time I'd seen it; I was quite stupefied. "You're only my fourth long term patient, you know."

While I was starting to see her point, the root of the problem still remained.

"But what about Ben and May?"

"I'll tell you what. I'll talk to them tonight. I'm going to cancel all my meetings for a week anyway," she said as kissed my forehead. "I'll be taking a bit of a trip," she added coldly. "And after that, we'll continue our meetings. Sound good, young man?" once again back to her impassive yet warm self.

We talked for hours more, recounting stories of myself and this so-called multiverse. With direct access to my mind, she knew exactly how I thought and what to say to help me heal. She did more to clear my conscience and help me grow in those few hours than any other therapy, meditation or self-reflection since I woke up in this body.

All too soon, a ring chimed and the door to the counselling room was opened. Uncle Ben had come to pick me back up. Goodbyes were said in a blur and before I knew it Ben had assured Dr. Frost that he and May would be available that evening to meet her and we were on our way home.

"So, how'd it go bud?"

Dr. Emma Frost had me on the back foot for the entire session. Which was crazy! I was the one with otherworldly knowledge! I was the one who knew more about the other. And she hadn't even used her ability till the end!

"She's good."

She had certainly given me a lot to think about. I could see her point of course, but like Ben always said: With great power comes great responsibility. I had the power to fulfil Peter Parker's potential, to improve hundreds - possibly thousands of lives. Which meant I had a responsibility to be the best version of Spider-Man as I could be. As much as I wished to simply be Peter, the nephew - or even the son of Ben an May Parker; could I really deprive the world of Spider-Man's strength?

But maybe Dr. Frost was right. Maybe being the best version of Spider-Man didn't mean being the best version of Peter Parker. I had to accept that Peter Parker was gone and believing that the world would benefit more from me pretending to be someone else rather than simply being the best version of myself was surely doing myself a disservice.

Ben gave me a concerned look. I would usually complain quite loudly during these drives back home. I was far too introspective for his liking after this one. But my words assuaged his concerns. After all, I had never complimented any of the counsellors before.

Eventually we were both able to relax and drove home together singing along softly to Hotel California on the radio, a song we both loved.
 
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4. Interlude 1
Interlude 1 – Emma Frost

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Emma Frost had a lot to think about. Peter's mind was bizarre to say the least. What she saw was both exhilarating and discomforting. She saw various ways in which her life had supposedly played out. Most of it was utter nonsense, but a lot of things did not fall too far from the tree.

Her abilities were almost spot on for one. Granted, she did not have nearly the control the sensationalised comics Peter had read claimed she did. But she could feel that she had the potential. Leading her to believe that perhaps Peter was simply some sort of clairvoyant gone wrong. She had heard of mutants whose abilities have caused strange psychosis before, after all.

She still couldn't wrap her head around alternate universes; but she could tell that for Peter, personally, that wasn't even the issue. From Peter's perspective he has to fulfil the role of some larger than life superhero. But when she compared her own life to his perspective of her, she could tell that such aspirations were… superfluous to say the least.

She could not deny that she recognised quite a few people from his memories. His impressions of them were, more often than not, at least partially accurate. But she would not claim to believe that her life has been part of some larger picture. In fact, most of her life's decisions have been reactionary and probably ill-advised – purely emotional. So, rejecting the idea that her world is somehow exactly as Peter's mind imagined it was natural.

But then again, she would not deny that she fully intended to take advantage of his knowledge.

Emma's father was a…difficult man. And an even worse parent. But now Emma found that even this rave review was far too optimistic. She had unknowingly given him the benefit of the doubt all his life. It took Peter's odd perspective for her to realise just how much her father had taken from her. And she couldn't thank the boy more.

Peter was strange. Despite having practically raped his mind he still had the courage, or the sheer audacity to let her back in…simply to tell her a joke. It was baffling. She hadn't gotten much more from his mind other than her own circumstances but from what she could tell he was deeply damaged young man.

He wasn't just too humble, he was self-sacrificing. As much as it hurt him to have his mind ripped through, he was still happy he had a way to help his parents. She could feel it clearly in his mind, despite the pain and embarrassment, he was glad he had no secrets left.

It was easy to forget his real age was in the mid-twenties now, probably older than her. Evidence being the fact that she felt comfortable enough to kiss his forehead and embrace him.

Having taken care of his schizophrenic 'little sister' all his life, he was quite comfortable behaving…playful. His sister, Cali, had early onset schizophrenia which resulted in her mental maturity halting at the age of ten. Despite taking the responsibility to care for her, he always treated her like his best friend. Which of course meant acting like a ten-year-old second nature to him. Still, she suspected it was more than that. If what Peter claimed and what his mind seemed to show was true, then it would make sense that his very physiology would make him behave differently from his adult past.

It was almost ironic how Peter was more reserved imitating a six-year-old Peter Parker, than he was simply being his twenty-year-old self interacting with Cali.

But she could think of how cute a twenty-year-old playful Peter Parker would be at a later time. She had a family to fix.
 
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5. Chapter 3
Chapter 3

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The day after the Parker household met Dr. Frost was challenging to say the least. I will not deny that there were plenty of tears. But in the end, a great weight had been lifted off our shoulders. We all grieved for the loss of six-year-old Peter Parker and while my relationship with the Parkers would never be the same, I was quite content.

They had woken me up the morning after their meeting with Dr. Frost. We sat on my bed and spoke for hours; a lot of hugs and teary kisses were exchanged. They told me that the doctor had shown them the truth. They had seen it, themselves. It made me uncomfortable that a powerful telepath had been in their heads, but Dr. Frost had only ever helped me.

"Now, you ready for breakfast son?" asked Ben kindly while rubbing my back.

"Yep!" I must have been sporting a megawatt smile because Ben practically tackled me and picked me up, easily going back to our old roughhousing. "Aah! Uncle Ben! Put me down!" I squealed barely able to keep in my laughter. For some reason, Peter Parker was the most freaking ticklish person in the world. I struggled to break free and the only retaliation I could make was to try and tickle him right back as I hung onto his shoulders, practically upside down at that point.

By the time he manhandled me to the kitchen, I was beet red. Both gravity and embarrassment coloured my face in equal proportions. Ben chuckled as he was finally forced to let go of me. I was so used to acting like an eleven-year-old around them that it was second nature to me now. It did not help that this was the eleven-year-old life I had always wanted.

Now that they know, however, my embarrassment was palpable. They knew I was like twenty-something years now, and I was still so childish. I probably singlehandedly undid everything Dr. Frost said to convince them I was a mature young adult.

"Grab your pancakes boys!" May called from the stove.

We both dropped what we were doing and dashed for May. May always made two kinds of pancakes at a time. One was a good, honest pancake with maple syrup and blueberries. But one was always a lie. She claimed variety was the spice of life, but I think it was just her way to make us get to breakfast quickly. Nobody wanted a potato pancake. Ew.

Score!

As usual, I got to it first; pretended to scarf it down all by myself and then traded over a bit more than May would prefer, to Uncle Ben. It was a good morning.

Days like this reminded me how lucky I was to be here. Not here in the Marvel universe, but here with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It had been a long, long time since I have had to fake the love I showed to them. As a decidedly unlucky orphan in my previous world, the childhood I was living with them was my paradise.
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It had been several years since I met Dr. Frost. It was our first and last meeting. She did mention she would be going on a trip, but that was supposed to last a week. Her tone implied she had seen something in my head…which was worrying. She could have started any number of conflicts her character was known to have, and I did not know if she could make it out unscathed. She was never known to do things lone wolf after all.

Thankfully, about a month after her disappearance I received an email from one Emma White. At first glance it looked like it was sent to the wrong person but with a sender's name like 'Emma White' I knew there would be more to it than meets the eye.

It was not written in any sort of cypher but the content itself would be quite mundane to anyone else who read it.

Emma White had supposedly taken her three kids out of day-care because the principal was too arrogant for her liking. She decided to tutor her children herself and so she would have to cancel our supposedly ongoing tutorials.

I think I got the message. She did not have children, but she did have three siblings. The principal she mentioned must have been her father.

I, of course, replied that she had got the wrong address. I followed it up with a long description of my various middle school and side projects to show I didn't need tutorials. Once again happily telling her things she did not have the time to read. An inside joke, to hopefully ensure she knows her message was received.

It did not hurt that it let me show her how thankful I was for her help. I was a more active part of my own life now and it was all thanks to her.

With an alleviated conscience, I had spent the years after our meeting simply living my new life and learning to be the new me. I realised I had been putting myself in a box by trying to relive Peter Parker's childhood. I was determined to try things neither of us had ever experienced before.

I had only recently started to visit a gym, not that they would have taken me seriously before, anyway. But self-defence was something that I have always wanted to learn.

In my past, I had taken up Karate. One of the few opportunities I had available at my public school. I enjoyed it, performed well, even. One day, my Sensei asked me to participate in a tournament, to represent their school of the art. I stopped going the very next day.

When Dr. Frost spoke of this in our marathon therapy session, she said I was so self-deprecating that I did not think I was worthy of the position. And rather than confront the teacher of my supposed deficiency, I simply took away their opportunity to choose me.

But I still believe I was just too chicken.

Well, that will not happen again. I was determined to Bruce Lee the shit out of that dojo.

The world had not worked in my favour, however. Unfortunately, despite all my efforts, I never actually found a place to train that I could both get to (I was still in a very fragile eleven-year-old body and needed Ben to drive me) and that would actually teach me. I really wish I had trained long enough in my last life so I could train myself here.

After years of no results, I did a little research and did what I could to ready myself for training.

Calisthenics were not known to have any adverse effects on a growing teen, so I kept up a light routine once I started going to the gym.

'Who knows, maybe I'd just run into a well-known martial arts trainer just running around the park?' I had thought.

While I had kept up my routine and hopeless prayers, I also took a deeper dive into Peter Parker's notes.

Cute, little Peter wanted to be an acrobat. Quite shockingly, I had found a few pages of drawings and sketches by a six-year-old peter detailing his tools for his dream trade. A light-weight grapple gun, likely the very first iteration of Spider-Man's famous web-shooters.

Embarrassingly enough, his model had the same idea for the motor of the shooter as I did, an 'RC' car. An idea that had failed quite miserably.

Little Peter, of course, had absolutely no ideas for the web fluid. A fact that I was rather smugly proud about, having discovered the formula myself. It didn't matter that I was competing with a six-year-old.

This time, with Ben's blessing and help I was able to work on a far better prototype. It had the unfortunate downside of using lithium ion batteries, but the new shooters were far more powerful. The batteries were housed in tube shaped rings held together with a soft plastic coating. The rings would go around my wrists and tighten so that two sets of electromagnets could sit on the top and bottom, like a double-sided watch.

The shooters were quite bulky, mostly due to the makeshift materials that were used in its crafting, but the electromagnets could spin fast enough to shoot my web bomb pellet over fifty feet away. Which was about as well as I could hope for, really.

My first experiments with them were entertaining to say the least. Let's just say that I'm glad I did not try to improve the one-hour long dissolve time.

I wonder if wetting the web will increase the time it takes to dissolve? Something to test.

While I was getting better at aiming the webs, swinging was completely impossible. In fact, grabbing the web in general was pretty much impossible for me. It requires an almost supernatural level of speed and dexterity to be able to shoot the web and catch an end of it, something I simply did not have. Let alone the fact that the webs could not support my weight; they did not have nearly enough tensile strength.

On the bright side, the high entry level meant that when a particular cat burglar steals my shooters she won't suddenly skyrocket in manoeuvrability.

I designed unique pellets for each type of web. I had no idea how Peter Parker really did it, but I found this to be a pretty much necessary downside. It meant that until I could improve my shooters, I would be limited in ammunition as well as the speed in which I can switch between the types of webs.

But there was no need to be a sourpuss. I had web-shooters!

"Peter! The light is green!" called Uncle Ben from the kitchen.

Finally!

"C.A.L.I, Transfer 'all open projects' to the Linux Subsystem And Update Windows; it's starting to get on my nerves," I said to nothing in particular as I left my room.

Alright, then! Let's do this!

Uncle Ben stood in kitchen wearing a large "hug me" cooking apron. He had removed his usual horn-rimmed glasses in an effort to keep them clean and was squinting at a paper manual.

I was, once again, testing a new iteration of my web fluid formula. I had not been able to increase the longevity of the webs, but boy, had the tensile strength gone up!

"Okay Peter, just stay behind the threshold and I'll press the - red, button was it?"

I rolled my eyes behind the giant safety glasses Uncle Ben had procured, "It's just a centrifuge Uncle Ben. Think of it like a larger than average juice maker."

It had been decided that I would be treated like an adult for as long as I behaved like an adult. However, the caveat was that as long as I was in the body of a child, my health and safety was the responsibility of Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It was an unstable equilibrium that had spawned a lot of odd rules for the Parker household.

No alien Pets. No super-powered hostages in the basement. But here's the kicker - No dangerous experiments. And boy had that been a pain to work around.

Simple experiments like this, however, could easily be performed with the blessings of Uncle Ben.

Albeit with an overprotective shadow.

"Remind me why I'm not in a super expensive lab, being paid for by whatever prestigious university begged to have me, again?"

"Because you said the eyes on you would restrict your movement," drawled Uncle Ben, uninterested in my whining. He knew it was largely just pointless chatter.

A moment later he had pressed the start switch on the centrifuge and retreated to my side.

"Also, you claim my son and daughter-in-law were secret agents for a world-spanning organisation of pure evil," he added.

I blushed at that, "That's not what I meant Uncle Ben and you know it! And I didn't say it was a fact!"

"Yes, yes, now run along. You said this would take two hours correct? Why don't you go to the park? Play some ball."

I had spent the years of my pre-teens and early teenage hood being very active, I had even made friends at the neighbourhood ball field.

I say friends; but really, it was hard to take them seriously most of the time. There was definitely a disconnect between me and my peers but that does not mean the sports weren't fun, or even challenging. Since I had the same physical build as them – weaker, when I first started, if I'm being honest. The games were not easy, and I had failed as much as I had succeeded.

"I'm a bit too old for that Uncle Ben, even my body. I'm going to head to the sports centre, I'll see you at seven!" I called as I took two steps at a time up the stairs.

I had been avoiding lifting weights like the plague and planned to do so till my body matured. But a sports centre like this was practically a playground for someone with as much energy to burn as I had. There were gymnastics facilities that would make the young Peter Parker drool and my favourite, a climbing wall.

What started as a bit of an 'on the nose' joke to share with the Parker household slowly transformed into something I was genuinely passionate about. Wall climbing was a great combination of strength, problem solving, and grace and I had fallen in love with it.

I returned home tired and sweaty only to find the kitchen in a giant soppy mess.

Evidently Uncle Ben could not wait to try the shooters with the new web fluid.

"Hey at least, I finally know if water increases the time it takes to dissolve." I thought as I confirmed it was seven o'clock, having left at three 'clock it was over two hours after the fluid would have been completed.

Uncle Ben and I weathered the storm that was May Parker and I finally crawled to the safety that was my room after Aunt May was satisfied.

With the web shooters ready and my mirror finally showing me the fruits of my labour, I felt confident and comfortable. Which was good because it would be needed to deal with the news Ben and May had for me.

Ever since the day I first left the hospital, the Parker household has been living on the very outskirts of New York.

We were finally moving to Queens, an event I both awaited and dreaded in equal measure. Ben had been transferred to work at a bank downtown. The bank in their infinite generosity, made available a small house in Queens for our use. The rent was good considering we were going to live in New York proper. Or closer to it anyway. In the end, there wasn't really a decision to be made.
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Our day of departure arrived in a blink of an eye.

"You ready squirt?" said Uncle Ben with a small smirk.

"I'm not a squirt anymore, ya know." I said while pulling my suitcase to the door, a piece of toast in my other hand.

Only fifteen, I was already as tall as Uncle Ben at five feet, seven. I wasn't a giant or anything but at least I shouldn't be the runt of high school which was comforting.

Perhaps it was the constant sun or simply puberty, but my brown hair was almost sandy now. It was always unkempt, but pulling it back usually got it out of my face.

I was standing by the door waiting for Ben to pull his truck in, already having brought Aunt May's luggage down. My brand spanking new letterman jacket was tied around my waist. The heat of the afternoon had gotten to me while I struggled with the bags.

"Going somewhere Pete?" called a voice from the house next door.

"Oh hey, Mona! Long time no see! How are you?"

"Well, my study buddy abandoned me a few weeks ago. So not so good." She pouted.

I had been visiting the public library almost regularly for the past few months; most recently I had been researching gamma radiation. Banner had done a number on New York City not long ago and well, I was curious. The Internet connection is better and more importantly, not paid for by me at the library and it wasn't like I was doing anything illegal anyway.

Needless to say, I came out of my trips to the library a little more knowledgeable about Dr. Banner's situation and a lot more friendly with the pretty brunette college student who lived next door.

I explained to her that we were moving to Queens. It was quite heart-warming to know I had made a good enough impression on her in a few weeks that she looked genuinely disappointed we were moving. She was fairly new to this area herself, being a new student at the local community college, so perhaps it was not so odd she felt attached.

Finally, with May ready and the car by the door, it was time to hug my new friend goodbye. I felt ready for anything Midtown High School had to throw at me.
 
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I have only one criticism, other than a bit of timeline problems in the early chapters, is that you wrote Dr. Frost giving off some heavy pedophile vibes. It's honestly very creepy since she's a child psychologist, she admitted she still thought of MC as a child, and had a brief sexual fantasy about him while he was still ten years old. Let me just tell you, Dr. Frost was definitely being creepy thinking about one of her underage patients being cute aged up, and possibly being 'playful' or acting like a ten year old while 'looking' like a twenty year old. 🤢🤮
 
I have only one criticism, other than a bit of timeline problems in the early chapters, is that you wrote Dr. Frost giving off some heavy pedophile vibes. It's honestly very creepy since she's a child psychologist, she admitted she still thought of MC as a child, and had a brief sexual fantasy about him while he was still ten years old. Let me just tell you, Dr. Frost was definitely being creepy thinking about one of her underage patients being cute aged up, and possibly being 'playful' or acting like a ten year old while 'looking' like a twenty year old. 🤢🤮
Dafuq? I can honestly say you are are the first person who thought she had a sexual fantasy about a ten year old...
 
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6. Chapter 4
Chapter 4

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"You're going to make me late Uncle Ben!" I whined exasperatedly as he checked my bag for the lunch May had prepared for me. My ears tinted when I realised, I had forgotten it. He smirked at me and dragged me back to the kitchen by my bag. I practically slid all the way over the cheap marble floor.

I made a big show of grabbing the lunch box and stuffing it in my backpack. I grinned at him, "Happy?"

"Get in the car, ya runt."

"I'm not a runt!" I said indignantly as walked out the front door.

As I was readjusting the straps of my backpack, I heard a voice in the distance, "See ya later, mom!"

A girl with fire red hair in a red and blue cheerleader outfit ran out the door of the house to the left of our own. If I was looking for Peter Parker's inspiration for his classic Spider-Man colours, I did not need to look too far from there. She was struggling with a sports bag in one hand and rushing to make the bus waiting down the lane. The combination of sleepiness and the determination to make the bus on time made her look adorable in her clumsiness.

"Wait MJ! You forgot your lunch!" a voice called out from the house frantically.

The girl spun around and huffed, during which time her sports bag came loose and spilt to the ground.

By now, I had walked out my driveway far enough that going over to help her out was only natural. I would have to be a real ass to just watch her struggle on the ground. "Let me help you with that," I said as I knelt over and helped refill the bag.

I barely hear a muffled thanks as we get all the items together and stand up. "I can give you a drive, if you need one," I said, though it was almost a question, "The bus looks like it's about to leave."

"W-What?" she asked, still seemingly flustered by her clumsy accident.

"You go to Midtown High right?" I gestured at the name on the bus, "Uncle Ben is taking me for my first day, we're supposed to arrive earlier than the bus anyway." I trailed off.

"Uhhh."

She didn't seem like a morning person. Maybe I needed to introduce her to the joys of coffee.

"Gimme a mo," she mumbled and waddled her way back home with her bag. She and her mother had a frantic conversation on the front porch. They looked almost comical in how Mary Jane tried to hide what was spoken.

She walked back down the driveway and thanked Ben and I for the lift. When we got seated in the car, she turned to me. We were both sitting in the back of the truck while Uncle Ben drove up front.

"So, you must be Peter."

I was surprised to say the least. I did not know May had already introduced us to the neighbours.

"Yep, Peter Parker. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Mary Jane, but everyone calls me MJ."

"It's really nice to meet you, Mary Jane." I smiled.

"MJ," she asserted.

"MJ," I agreed, easily. This was so neat. I was meeting Mary Jane Watson for the first time!

"If you want, you could go to sleep, and I'll wake you up when we reach the school?" It was exciting to meet her, but she barely looked conscious in her seat. She might just survive the day if she gets a bit more sleep in.

"You're the best Pete," she mumbled as she hugged her bag with her head nestled against the window.

That went far better than I expected. Despite my confidence in my likability, I will admit I was quite anxious about my reception to the school.

I knew I did not look easy to pick on anymore, and I don't think I have the patience to be bullied by children half my age. So, I was not worried about that. But I did not want to separate myself from my peers either.

Sure, I had a more matured mind and a slightly stranger perspective, but we were all fifteen going sixteen, almost adults. I was certain that even Flash Thompson, the quintessential Spider-Man bully, would be above petty squabbles – if he even existed here, that is.

I was determined to make a good impression.

Choosing what clubs to join was hard. While joining a sports team would be an automatic ticket to being socially accepted, I didn't want to commit that kind of time into team practises and social events. I would probably get kicked off for skipping too many practises once I put on the suit anyway. Let alone the times I would be forced to abandon them mid-practice, without a word, because of an emergency is some part of the city.

Quite tragically, I was finding out that my overall high school life was looking to be quite similar to Peter Parker's. Except that, while Peter probably used Midtown High's facilities out of sheer boredom, I intended to fully exploit their incredibly advanced scientific equipment. Midtown High was well known for its achievements in the Sciences, after all.

I could just imagine the new web fluid and pellet types I could cook up. I was dreaming of arc reactors powering each of my web shooters and over-kill weapon attachments around my body like some sort of freakazoid Franken-Spider when I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to a light punch. MJ was red in the face and her almost exaggeratedly angry expression didn't really match the strength of her punch. Until I realised, she probably thought she put more strength into it than that, it just wasn't that hard.

"Fuck, I fell asleep." I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock."

I wasn't sure what had her panties in a bunch, I was still firmly on my side of the back seat and we hadn't even reached school yet.

I noticed Uncle Ben smiling at me in the rear-view mirror. He said, "Don't go back to sleep, we're almost there Pete."

I knew he was deflecting but the signal switched, and his attention was back on the road. Quite pointedly ignoring me, with a grin.

"I'm sorry about that MJ. I won't fall asleep this time, promise." I apologised wryly with a cheeky laugh.

She laughed back, "Don't worry about it, Pete. I'm wide awake now."

We chatted a bit about her schedule and what the school was like. She and her friend Liz did everything together, so naturally she joined the cheerleading squad. Drama was fun too, but Liz has been talking about getting jobs to help pay for college and then MJ sort of just dissolved into a torrent of words with little meaning to me.

She seemed to be venting a lot of frustration, but for the life of me, I could not keep track of all the things she said. I had never felt myself play catch up with the brain of Peter Parker and it was quite a novel experience. The sheer randomness of her tirade made it so hard to grasp all that she said.I couldn't help but be reminded of Cali.

Our arrival at the school coincided with the end of her rant and she gratefully took the excuse of getting out of the car to hide her embarrassed blush. When she came around to the footpath, she gave a us a very hasty thanks and scuttled off towards the sports fields.

"Come on, Pete," said Uncle Ben with a smirk, "We've got to get to the offices."

I readjusted my backpack and took a deep breath. "Let's go," I nodded.

Midtown High School was freaking massive. Compared to the high school in my past life, anyway. It looked more like a major scientific institute than a public school. It was four stories tall, with narrow floor to ceiling windows laid out in lines all around the Victorian façade. The footprint of the building itself was somewhat like a trident, with three rectangular prongs and hallway connections in between. More like a capital 'E' than a trident, I suppose.

As we walked up a small flight of stairs to the entrance, I looked up at the rather grand entryway. The large double doors were flush with a tinted glass wall that reached high up, only to get cut off by an overhanging arch seen commonly in more Gothic structures.

The inside was practically deserted, which really let you see just how monotonous and uniform the building really was. Without the colour and variety from hordes of students, the blank walls and endless rows of lockers looked quite unfriendly.

We were asked to come in early, just to ensure I have everything I need ready for my first day. The school would properly start in around half an hour, so Ben and I booked it to make our appointment.

The student councillor, Mr. Flannigan, handed me a class schedule and a detailed map of the school. We had already had a lot of correspondence over email and telephone.

Mr. Flannigan was a short bespectacled man. He wore a brown, boxy suit; the kind you would expect to have a bowler hat to go with. He looked very much like a detective from a Mystery Noir film and had the handlebar moustache to go with it.

I still didn't know his first name and it had reached the point where it would be far too awkward to ask. Thankfully, he thought I was a delightfully polite boy who respected his elders thanks to all the formality.

A fact that helped me a lot when I had him shift my schedule to let me have more lab time than theory. My grades made it clear that I was at least a gifted student, even if I hadn't done anything remarkable in the public light. So, giving me the benefit of the doubt was his prerogative and I am really, really glad he did.

In fact, I got to work as a research assistant to Dr. Lynn Nelson, the head of the science department.

And I was so stoked.

If somebody told me I would be excited by the thought of research in my past life, I would have laughed in their face. But the rules had changed, the very fabric of reality had changed. Anything was possible here, and I had the brains to discover it! Never mind, that the extent of the doctor's research was programming neural linguistic nodes. With the right tools and support as I was sure I could make something of that too.

When I had researched Dr. Banner's condition back in Bay County, I had unknowingly unleashed and insatiable curiosity within myself. Seeing firsthand knowledge of the publicised and whistle-blown research had amazed me because the science checked out!

Which meant that people didn't just turn into green rage monsters for just 'reasons'. There was a rational explanation for it and that meant that the laws of reality were somehow different here, like the other side of a coin. The fact that this difference allowed for extra-dimensional travel and infinite clean energy among many other things meant I simply had to know more about it.

Mr. Flannigan completed his impromptu orientation and could see that I was sufficiently excited to start my journey in Midtown High. Just in time for the first bell to ring, requesting students to head to class.

I said my goodbye's to Uncle Ben, assuring him I'd eat the lunch and agreed that yes, wasting food was bad. And that I would be home by five. And that no MJ, wouldn't want to meet May at home for dinner. It was a little longer before I could convince Ben to leave me alone. I had honestly contemplated acting out like a real fifteen-year-old embarrassed by his parent.

Thankfully, locating my locker was a fairly simple ordeal – the map had detailed the locker numbers with their locations on each floor as well – so I quickly got to unloading my school stationery and required texts. My backpack now blissfully lighter.

I chuckled as I stuffed my locker, I can't wait to meet someone who knows magic. I could really use some lightening charms on my backpack.

A loud, rude knocking interrupted my inner musings. I turned around to see a giant of a blonde high schooler in front of me. He must have been above six feet, two – easily. He was stocky too, the footballer who was undoubtedly Flash Thompson did not look happy with me.

"You think it's funny that I got ripped a new one out in the hallway?" he glared. The fact that he couldn't recognise my face meant nothing to him. He had taken offence to me finding something funny in his general vicinity, oh the tragedy.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I don't know what y-"

"Hey Flash," called a lilting voice from behind the bigger boy. A blonde girl with perfectly tanned skin wrapped her arm around his shoulder as she greeted him with a kiss. She was wearing the same outfit that MJ was, a red and blue cheer -leading uniform. I could not help but notice the small navel piercing she wore while her outfit adjusted for her lifting hands.

"Hey Liz." He pawed at his girlfriend almost possessively but made sure to continue glaring at me through their meeting.

"Watchadoin?" she asked him softly. Her lips were so close to his head that speaking any louder would have been painful for him.

"This guy-"

"Peter Parker, pleasure to meet you." I drawled a little unkindly. This had really put a damper on my mood. I was so, so hoping that Eugene "Flash" Thompson would not be a complete prick. But apparently, it was not to be.

The blonde looked me up and down uncaring of how obvious she was. I wish I had her level of confidence my first time through high school. She really did not seem to care what I thought about her at all.

"Puny Parker here-" Flash restarted angrily when Liz interrupted him just as softly, "Doesn't look that puny to me."

Wow, Liz Allan did not give a fuck.

Flash looked angrier now if anything. But before the argument had been resolved a voice warned from behind, "Only your first day Mr. Parker and you're in trouble already. I'm not sure what Flannigan was thinking saddling me with a high schooler."

No, no, no.

Before I could make a defence, she led us into the class for our homeroom and ushered us into our seats. She was my homeroom teacher and my boss, effectively. From her words she had not wanted a teenage lab assistant to baby and the encounter with Flash had probably eroded any goodwill Mr. Flannigan may have built.

I cannot believe how many of my plans Flash has single-handedly endangered just by being a jackass. All I could do was stare icy daggers that promised vengeance, something he noticed and returned in equal measures.
 
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7. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Dr. Nelson made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself, something I did without any fanfare. MJ was not in my class, and other than Flash and Liz, none of the other students really stood out to me.

I would not say the class she took after her homeroom was boring. Despite Dr. Nelson only teaching things I already knew, what she taught was interesting. Most of her class material were things I would consider important or at least fascinating to know.

But I could not exactly keep myself occupied by simply rehashing my own knowledge. I made a great effort to appear like I was paying attention, but really, I was going through my research notes and plans almost all throughout the class. I had made it a point to ignore Flash and was completely oblivious to the other students but made an effort to make eye contact with Dr. Nelson, to show her I was following along.

My first objective was reconnaissance. Peter Parker was my hero growing up and I was hoping I could find enough information about Midtown High to understand just how much trouble I was in. This was supposed to be ground zero for all kinds of chaos after all. I had already seen many stark differences from the comics I read as a teenager, however, so I did not have great expectations.

Speaking of Stark; it's been almost two months since he was abducted. I know being captured by terrorists and tortured is quite an ordeal, but the movies had not made it seem that long, had they? News of the attack on Tony Stark had been all over the Internet and television long before The Hulk decided to throw a hissy fit in Harlem. The fact that he had not already busted out was mildly concerning.

Ideally, a list of faculty and students would be a great start to my information expedition. But the only place I could find that would be on the computers in the administration office. An office that was pretty much always staffed and under surveillance.

I knew I could break the credentials to access the files on whatever computer they used. Midtown High was a well-equipped school and probably had decent security, but I was almost certainly better. Unfortunately, I didn't think I would get the opportunity seeing as I couldn't even get close to the computer without being spotted. The only solution I had to my dilemma would be to break into the school at night, something I did not want to risk.

Perhaps it would be better to just try to get remote access but that came with its own setbacks. Regardless, the list was tabled for now. I had decided to build my first planned gadget!

In all honesty, I simply wanted to build something. I knew reconnaissance was the first objective, so quite conveniently, I thought up a plan for surveillance bots. But I will openly admit that all of this was just an excuse to get into the robotics lab at Midtown High and see what I had to play with.

Any imminent threat had always been far from my mind as I was confident that May, Ben, and I wouldn't be bothered by much before I got my signature Spider powers. The last few years had been great for learning about the world and myself.

I had quite gleefully, also thrown myself into designing one half of a whole bunch of different ideas. I did not have the physical components to build any of them, but I had at least worked on a bunch of the software and theory.

I had designed a squad of 'spider-bots' that would use various sensors to relay data to a single processing unit. I had plans to then use that information as required, but primarily as on overlay to my vision. Creating any sort of visor would not happen any time soon, realistically, but I really, really wanted to throw a Pokeball full of spider bot minions.

Of course, I had no idea what sensors I would have available or what mechatronic components I could assemble so that would have posed a problem in designing the software. That is, unless I was a freelance programmer for most of my working life (which I was) and I had to deal with the trail-end of projects on a regular basis (which I did).

So yes, while my 'Spynet' would require severe adjustments to whatever hardware I could get my hands on, I was quite excited for the project. Meanwhile, my web-shooters have sat exactly as they did; still waiting for love from Midtown High's energy department. And I was very willing to oblige.

I needed a new power source for my webshooters. Lithium-ion was fine for a prototype and proof of concept, but it could blow my arm off without my spider power up. And regardless, a weapon so susceptible to exploding was a big no, no.

I wish I knew how Howard Stark's arc reactor worked but there was almost no information out there. I had gone down to the giant reception building of Stark Industries in Manhattan, just to look at it.

Could have been magic for all I knew.

But the power output I needed was minuscule compared to what the Iron Man suit required, so I was sure I could come up with something, given just a little bit more information.

It looked like super charged plasma, but at that scale, it should have been guzzling tons of power; let alone generating it. I had even combed through forums on the dark web, safe under the blanket of anonymity, to no avail. While there seemed to be a lot of bounties for the information, nobody actually claimed to have any. It seemed to be a running gag that it would never happen again.

Ironically, I had to look at the mundane technology in my past life for a solution. An ideal solid-state battery had been just an idea, though certainly greats strides were being made to get there. But I found quite astonishingly that it had been a rather simple solution.

Ha. Irony. Solution, Solid state, get it. Never mind.

Unfortunately, my internal joke must have been a lot more obvious than I thought because I heard the now almost dark and angry voice of Dr. Nelson, "Something you find funny, Mr. Parker?"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Well?" she clearly did not want to give me a chance to weasel out. I looked at the blackboard in a panic, trying to connect what I could see now to what I last saw and then fill in the blanks from what I heard from memory.

Needless to say, I did not really have the brain power left to stall for time, "Uhh.."

Somebody snickered and I was finally talking, "I just noticed we've been working on the proof the regular way for almost fifteen minutes now."

Her eyes had gone from looking at the class disdainfully to being singularly focused on me. For a regular teenager, being stared at with that level of annoyance by a beautiful older woman – a blond teacher and colleague of Sue Storm herself, no less – would have been incredibly intimidating.

But I had taken on the full force of Emma Frost's glare and had only died a little bit.

"But from the last proof we looked at we know that if a fully connected graph has n nodes then it would have at most 'n times n minus one over two', edges so our proof would practically be done already." I continued unfazed by her stare; the snickering had stopped, at least.

Though now, her eyes were significantly less piercing. Her lips were still tight while she nodded as though to tell me to carry on.

"You mentioned early on in the class that this was the kind of subject where it would benefit us to work smart rather than hard, and I found it funny that we had to get a practical lesson for it to stick." I shrugged acting as nonchalant as possible.

If you asked me if I were feeling smug in that moment it would be a lie to deny it. I knew I had a good answer so when she asked me to meet her in her office after school, I was flummoxed.

This was bullshit, there was no way anybody should still think I was not paying attention after an answer like that.

"Detention!? What? But-" I started to complain.

"You're not in trouble, Mr. Parker. We must talk about your role as a lab assistant and the kind of work we will need to do," she said, almost placating.

I blinked, "Oh. Well that's fine then."

"Not that you would have a choice if I had deemed a detention necessary for your lack of attention in my class."

I opened my mouth to answer, once again indignant – I had clearly been paying attention! Sort of – but I snapped it shut when her practically giddy expression in comparison, disappeared. I decided I should probably not push her temper.

Somehow the class ended without any further interruptions. Dr. Nelson left me with instructions to find her after school and, strangely enough, the impression of taciturn consent for my wandering mind. Maybe she could tell that I had this material covered.

Regardless, I found myself quite excited to meet with her later and dashed out of the classroom before Flash could get in my way and ruin my improving mood.

Midtown High only had three classes in a day. Each class was two hours long and had a short and longer break spaced among them. The classes were more like workshops than lectures and I found it to be quite unique from anything I had ever experienced before.

So, with the first class done I was on my way to the cafeteria with a box of lunch, courtesy of Aunt May. Students were given a half-an-hour long break to get some food in them in case they had physical activities for their first class, but it was a good short break for everyone. Something I really wish I had an established friend by my side to deal with.

I walked through the blue metal doors of the food hall hoping to find MJ already inside. She was not.

It was no matter; I could get in line and grab some juice and hopefully she would be around later. She was not.

I looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit, surprised by how disappointed I was. I don't usually have great expectations when it comes to other people, but we seemed to have gotten along pretty well and I even offered her a drive to school that morning. We definitely spoke about how I was anxious about eating alone during the breaks, so I was really hoping she would show up.

I shook my head and made my way to the only table that had a seat unoccupied seat and was not completely empty. I didn't want to sit at a table alone and all the tables in my sight were fully occupied.

As I neared the occupant almost all turned to me. Convenient I guess, it certainly made it easier for me to introduce myself and grab a seat. "Hey, I'm Peter Parker. New kid. Do you mind if I sit here?"

The two boys at the table just stared at me. One of them wore a dark blue hoody that had to stretch to contain his stocky body. The other wore a white collared t-shirt; he even had the cap to give him a Wimbledon look.

After allowing a second awkwardness just in case any of them decided to say something I sat down, "Thanks guys, you're the best. I can't stand eating without friendly faces around."

I turned to the blue hoody on my right, who still looked shocked by my existence, "So what's your name?" I asked him.

The dark-skinned boy, blinked his beady eyes twice and said almost subconsciously, "Ned Leeds."

Oh no.

I knew that name. He was the nerdy sidekick from the movies!

My frustration with not seeing MJ and my lack of social opportunities only built when I heard it. The plan was to balance my scientific shenanigans and a healthy social life. I did not want to be forced into some clique.

I looked over at the group who still refused to begin introductions; the petite girl sitting diagonally across had not even taken down the hood of her bomber jacket to make eye contact.

"So Ned-" I started in hope that I could still hustle a conversation out of them. Ned's expression however quickly changes to a mixture of fear and excitement as his attention was drawn to something behind me.

"Hey, Pete!"

"Parker!"

I turned to see the only two girls I recognised in the school facing each other. They seemed to have had some sort of altercation.

MJ resembled a deer caught in headlights, her face tinting as she was turning away from Liz evasively. Meanwhile Liz had almost broken her diva personality; looking at MJ with something that bordered on curiosity.

Before I could ask what had got them at each other's throats, MJ started to speak, "Liz says she can give us a ride home, later today. Ya know, since you helped me out this morning."

Liz did not really look like she was particularly invested in the idea, but MJ carried on anyway, "You may have to wait a bit after school though, since we have try-outs." Her words were apologetic, but she looked pretty proud of herself. I really did not have it in me to be mad at her for missing the break anymore.

After we agreed to a time, we decided we would meet at the bleachers by the football ground. MJ apologised that she probably wouldn't show up for lunch after all. She claimed to be busy, but Liz made it a point to ensure I overheard they'd be going on a joyride and I was starting to wonder if this was how things would always be. A friend before and after school, but completely ignored within its walls.

To be fair, I would not be all too concerned even if that were true. They were quite a few years younger than me and I did not really yearn for their approval. I had plenty of other things to achieve in this incredible new world.

But I cannot claim to not be disappointed. These people are going to be my peers for the rest of my life. I am very likely to share a lot of experiences with them. But they were behaving like absolute teenagers.

I sighed.

Maybe I was judging them too harshly. Everybody had their own circumstances, and I would be hypocritical to talk about behaving childishly.

"Not to mention; they are, in fact, teenagers," I muttered as I made my way to my next class, American History. I had a long day of significantly less-interesting classes ahead of me.

Mondays sucked.
 
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8. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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The rest of the school day was uneventful and boring to say the least. Finally done with classes however, I was excited to go find out what was in store for me from Dr. Nelson. I weaved between the many students rushing towards the buses as I made my way to her office. Once again, thanking Mr. Flannigan for the map.

I knocked on the frosted glass door of the head of the Science Department's office. She was given a very large corner office on the second floor of the Science wing. Once I had her permission, I entered to see a room decorated very differently from the rest of the school.

While the school building itself had a façade of red bricks, the hallways inside were bleached a pasty yellow. Dr. Nelson's office looked like it belonged in a different building entirely, however. It was all glass furniture and pristine marble floors. The décor was minimal and very stylish in my opinion; it was an office I would love to have.

The school must have been quite desperate to have her here, to allow her such liberties with her office. She seemed to have spared no expense, purely for the sake of it. I could not imagine that she even used this office much, being a full-time researcher. She probably only used it when she needed to write emails or make calls.

"I hope you've had a good first day Mr. Parker," said Dr. Nelson almost belatedly, after I had waited awkwardly by her desk for a few seconds. She was still completely focused on the document she was writing but she added, "Please, take a seat."

I sat and waited several minutes longer, busy with my own thoughts. It looked like she would take a long time and I was beginning to worry that MJ and Liz would be delayed. Regardless, I simply glanced around the room. I was certain Dr. Nelson would not appreciate any interruptions.

"It is good that you are patient," she said as she put the papers aside. "You'll find that interrupting me while I'm working is a sure-fire way to piss me off. I would much prefer you remain one of the few people still on my good side, Mr. Parker."

I perked up at that.

"Yes! This day can be salvaged, yet!" I intoned grandly in my head. I was beyond relieved that my reputation with Dr. Nelson had not been completely demolished simply by associating with Flash.

Her initial reaction to seeing Flash and I "talk" was extreme to say the least. We were barely even making a noise so her instant dislike of me was baffling. I could only imagine she has had some bad experience with Flash, or she just really didn't want some pipsqueak high school intern to babysit.

Dr. Lynn Nelson was a tall but lithe woman. Her hair looked like it had been brown at some point but had spontaneously decided to turn blond, resulting in thick dirty blond curls. She wore a no-nonsense white shirt and black pencil dress skirt. The outfit would have seemed aged on her not-yet-thirty person, but it was very well fitted.

She carried herself with confidence. Which had the downside of getting a lot of male - and probably some female - students to take her classes, only to flunk out later.

Despite her relatively young age for a teacher, she was seen as amongst the strictest at Midtown High. Her disdain for her classes and occasionally her students was well known. She knew the school would put up with almost anything, evident in her occasional complete disregard of propriety when dealing with pesky students.

Midtown High was desperate to rekindle their connection with a re-emerging Baxter Foundation and Dr. Nelson looked like she intended to take full advantage of that.

"Come on, let's show you what you get to play with," she said mirroring my thoughts almost exactly.

Dr. Flynn had opened a drawer and tossed the documents she was working on inside. With a long sigh, the visibly relaxed woman got out of her seat and walked to the door. She opened it for me and gave me an almost impish grin, "You're going to like this."

What followed was a walk through Disneyland.

The facilities available to Midtown High could not claim to be state of the art, but they were still a far cry from the cave paintings I've been dealing with.

The Chemistry Lab would enable me to run tests using a whole host of new materials. Not to mention the industrial grade chemicals the lab had permission to use. Just basking in the presence of the decommissioned AIO Manufacturer from Stark Industries in the Robotics Lab made me giddy.

I enjoyed the tour that Dr. Nelson was almost proudly giving despite her rather vocal dislike of her humble role as the Head of Science for a High School. Every now and then she would interpose the tour with titbits of information about the projects currently underway in the many, many labs of Midtown High. To be fair, not all the work was particularly interesting but the sheer amount of real research being conducted at this public school was just disproportionate.

Just goes to show the power of Stardom. All this was likely only possible because of the school's connection to its alumnus, the late Franklin Storm. Father and mentor to the top researcher Sue Storm, founder of the Baxter Foundation; Franklin Storm's influence in the scientific community was palpable. Donations from both the Foundation itself and the slew of parties trying to curry favour with it had made Midtown a fortunate beneficiary.

"So," started Dr. Nelson as she ushered me through yet another frosted glass door. "Finally, this is my lab."

Like many of the other labs, it was in pristine condition. After further inspection I realised it was a little too pristine. Not a single item in the lab was misaligned. The decoration, the spartan comforts and even the smell spoke of a high functioning, obsessively clean individual.

This is going to be such a drag.

I would not say I was messy. I am carefully disorganised. There is a difference. And with Peter Parker's frankly astonishing memory at my disposal, it was inevitable that I would prefer to simply toss things around and catalogue its location.

I placed my backpack neatly in a locker and followed the Doctor into the lab.

Once inside she simply nodded approvingly and got right into it, "Now given the school's management's latest idiocy I am stuck with you. I'm at a bottleneck with my research and unless you know more about neuroplastic learning algorithms and linguistic computation than I do, you are useless to me."

I refrained from the obvious confirmation that I indeed did not know more than her on either of those topics and she continued, "Yet, you are now officially my student lab worker and if you don't want me to scrub my name off your records you'd better get up to something productive around here."

The woman had been becoming increasingly agitated, no doubt once again frustrated at this school blindsiding her. However, she composed herself easily with a small breath, "Kindly, refrain from bothering me while you work. As important as you may think your dilemmas may be, I assure you they are not comparable. I do not have the time to babysit you, unfortunately. Neither do I want your assistance, nor do I require your assistance-"

She cut herself and pulled a phone to her cheek. I blinked, that was abrupt. Where was she even keeping that cell phone, I wondered baffled as I tried my best not to eavesdrop.

"Oh! It's here already?" she asked excitedly. "Yes, well it was rhetorical. Transport the equipment to lab sixteen and I'll have my assistant swipe you in." She paused, and visibly calmed herself. "Yes, my assistant will be with you momentarily."

"I need you to do me a favour." Gone was the cell phone and I was once again faced with a slightly ticked off Dr. Lynn Nelson.

But I couldn't help it, I grinned.

So much for not needing my help.

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Once I got my very own Midtown High access card, I grabbed my backpack and started to make my way to lab sixteen. The building was thankfully very well organised. The labs were labelled sequentially in order covering all the departments. Unfortunately for me, this meant I'd have to walk a department over and two floors down to get to lab sixteen from twenty-one.

Thanking Mr. Flannigan seemed to be a theme for the day as once again I benefited from the lovely map. I decided to take the stairwell by the fire exit rather than walk to the middle staircase of the building or wait for an elevator. In a more modern building these doors tend to be locked magnetically until a fire alarm is tripped but this building was probably built way before that was popular.

I was skipping two steps on the stairwell at a time when a sound broke me out of my frantic descent. Someone was muttering and sniffling and they were only just around the corner. My pause in movement made me just too late to get a look at who it was or what had happened.

On any other day, my curiosity would probably have gotten the most of me. But as it was, I had a task to do. And it had been a long day. So instead of poking my nose in other people's business, I carried along down the stairwell.

It was not long before I was waiting outside lab sixteen. But there was no shipment equipment evident.

I groaned, why didn't I take Dr. Nelson's business card or something.

I waited around for a few minutes hoping that the delivery would arrive quickly. I would probably need to get to the football grounds soon. Before I could check my watch however, I heard sounds from inside the lab.

The heck?

Fumbling my shiny new keycard out from my wallet, I swiped myself into the lab. The lack of audio feedback from the reader before I tried the door made me wonder if it was even working. I did not have long to ponder however because it looked like the delivery guys were already inside.

The room was dark and rather musty. In fact, I concluded this was the most neglected lab at Midtown High. The edges of the room were lined with tables stacked with all sorts of scientific instruments and gadgets. It looked like a bit of a dumping ground, to be honest.

"Um hey guys, what's up?" I said a bit awkwardly from behind them as they struggled with a massive cabinet. The cabinet was covered under a sheet and resting on a sturdy pallet. It looked like I had interrupted them as they attempted the brutal task of getting the cabinet off the pallet and onto the only free table. From the looks of the tables around it, it was very newly liberated.

Of course, a few muffled grunts were all I got for a response.

So, I waited.

Tapped my toes for a bit.

"Maybe taking the sheet off before trying that would have been a good idea?" I asked, to fill the silence if nothing else.

"And I'd do that if the crazy bat you call your boss didn't threaten to claw my freaking eyes out!" exclaimed the man on the left side of the pallet. He had his hands under the wooden platform and was trying to squat lift it off the ground. His position left nearly no space for his head and his words were oddly muffled by the cloth invading his face.

I roll my eyes at that; how would she even know? A moment of contemplation later though it occurred to me that she probably would find out. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she was monitoring us now - the control freak that she is.

I glanced around the room and found my prize in the top right corner. A solitary CCTV camera with 360 degrees of vision, probably. I gave it a cheeky grin and turned back to the two struggling souls behind me.

The two delivery men had presumably mustered up their strength while I was looking for the camera as I turned to find the cabinet securely on the table.

"Right then-" started the man on the right when the theme song for Super Mario Bros. started playing out loud from behind me. I whipped around looking for the source when I remembered it was my ringtone and my phone was in my backpack. Feeling a bit sheepish, I had to complete a three-sixty degree turn to face the conversation again, but I used the momentum to slide my bag off my shoulders in an effort to play it off.

I barely used my phone for taking and making calls. I couldn't remember the last time I had even heard my ringtone so let's give Peter a break, shall we?

Even stranger than getting a call in the first place, it was from an unknown number. This was particularly odd because I had very religiously kept my visible footprint as small as possible. That kind of information leak would be a huge danger to Uncle Ben and Aunt May. I had no Online presence to speak off and I've always loathed giving my phone number to services only to have it sold to spam callers anyway.

"Um, hello?"

"Mr. Parker. I have left the premises; it slipped my mind to inform you. Please ensure you lock lab sixteen and find your way home. That will be all for today," barked an easily recognisable voice.

"No problem Dr. Nelson. Thank y- Geez, rude much?" I looked at the phone a bit disgruntled.

'Welp, my work here is done. All I need to do is usher these two clowns out and lock the door.' I thought, as the two aforementioned clowns were attempting to stretch each other's backs into feeling a bit more comfortable. My eyes however slid to the veiled cabinet behind them.

'Unless…'

I could not help the slightly manic grin that grew on my face.

*************************************************************​
With the delivery guys gone and the lab door securely closed I approached the cabinet with a small amount of trepidation. On the one hand Dr. Nelson was no longer in the building so it was unlikely she was monitoring me. On the other hand, her call was perfectly timed and from what she said she had already left so maybe she really does have some remote access to the video feed.

Decisions. Decisions.

Technically she never forbade me, from looking at it. In the end, I reasoned that a peek would not hurt. And boy am I glad I did. The content of that cabinet was the single strangest thing I had seen since my arrival. Even the footage of the Hulk was just that: footage. It simply could not compare to seeing the weirdness of the Marvel Multiverse first-hand.

Under the sheet was a cabinet made of glass, a protective housing of some sort for the real package. The package itself was about the size of an overhead suitcase. It was made of a translucent crystal-like substance and seemed to be filled with some sort of green fluid. Oh, did I mention it also contained an off-colour, off-size, very human looking brain?

The organ was at least twice the size of the average human brain and had a leathery purple texture. Every now and then the fluid would light up as if the brain was sparking. It reminded me of those Tesla lamps you get at gift shops.

"So cool…" I breathed, my eyes wide in awe. I had no idea what it was, but I assumed it was some sort of processor to help in Dr. Nelson's research. I would imagine observing this strange abstraction between a real brain and a physical processor would help her improve her models.

I wonder where it came from though. Not many people would have the knowledge, ability, and resources to build something like this. Running my hands along the base of the cabinet brought forth no further clues. For a moment I thought I found a button but pressing it down did not seem to do anything and releasing it simply brought the button flush with the base once again.

It was clear the button had not done anything, and I blessed my stars that was the case. Keeping in mind it is location, I continued my observations. Staying far away from the solitary button on its base.

Only once I was done canvassing the entirety of the cabinet did I realise just how much time had gone by since school ended.

"Shit, Liz is going to kill me!"
 
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9. Interlude 2
Interlude 2 – Eugene "Flash" Thompson
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"Eugene! Breakfast!" called Flash Thompson's mother as he applied his aftershave; a rare gift from his father for 'growing into his manhood'. He wiped his face with a towel after he was done getting dressed and made his way to breakfast.

"Good morning, mother," he said kindly with a kiss on her cheek. He then proceeded to help set the table and seat her.

"Where's the douche?"

"Eugene Harrison Thompson! You will treat you step-father with respect."

"Whatever."

What little positivity Flash had for the day was now decidedly smothered. But that was okay because he had a goal and a plan to achieve it. It was imperative to his college plans that he manages to assemble a full squad that day. First day jitters be damned.

"Oh, don't look so gloomy Flash, eat your eggs. Chop-chop."

Flash smirked at that and dug in. Sometimes it felt like his mother still saw him as an eight-year-old. It was nice. Far better than the hastily worn mask everyone saw back at school.

"Morning," greeted a gruff voice outside of Flash's field of view. While his mother responded enthusiastically, Flash dropped his head with a sigh and simply grunted in lieu of a reply.

After the new arrival, breakfast was a silent affair. Even so, Flash did not escape the usual interrogation.

"So, still planning on chasing balls for the rest of your life?" snarked the man seated beside him once his mother left to clear the table.

"I'm not joining the fucking Marines!" He hissed with a tad more enthusiasm than he intended and knew was safe. The change in the man's expression made it clear that Flash had overstepped. A quickly added, "Sir", did not do much to calm the fossil.

Thankfully, the return of Flash's mother along with a glass of milk for Flash and a cup of coffee for his stepfather broke them apart momentarily.

"As long as you remember: two years; if you don't make it as a professional sportsman by then it's my responsibility to make you a real man. You'll be off to Parris Island before you can say 'defence'."
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"Fuck! This is a goddamn mess!" thought Flash as his dreams threatened to crumble around him. It had taken an agonising amount of showboating and trash-talk to organise the misfits you would call the 'jocks' of midtown high into a team. He had become accustomed to the sycophantic bullshit they spewed over the summer but at least they all listened to him. Yet he hadn't even made it to his first class, and he was on shaky ground on both fronts.

This was ridiculous. His team was calling him a pussy just because he didn't dismantle some fucking creep perving on his girlfriend. And despite not having touched the little shit his Chemistry teacher claimed he'd 'lost the benefit of the doubt'.

So now he has to get a B or higher in his first testing season or he loses his right to captain the team and he has to somehow figure out how to wrangle his team back under heel.

Once his Chemistry teacher ended his tirade and turned to leave, Flash heard someone snicker from behind him. The voice was quite loud and his team spying at him from around the corridor definitely heard it. Flash could not help but allow the surge of anger the laugh caused to reach its natural conclusion. He did not recognise who the laugh came from but at least he'd be an easy target to get rid of the 'pussy' talk.

Flash strode up behind him and demanded his attention. Somehow, the boy was taller than he looked. Despite taking up seemingly less space the boy wasn't much shorter than Flash himself, but that did not stop him. Flash mush have been channelling his stepfather because the boy's untidy windswept fair was pissing him off - a contrast from his own crew cut.

Of course, not even this ended well. He was once again interrupted by a teacher who hated him, but not before being sabotaged by the Queen Bitch herself. Whom, now that he thought about it, could quite neatly be blamed for all his problems that morning.

"I hate school," he thought before heading into class and doing his best to unnerve the oddly confident new kid. In for a penny, in for a pound.
 
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10. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Despite Dr. Nelson's extended tour of the labs and her many interludes deriding her fellow researchers, the cheerleading try-outs did not appear to have concluded.

Glad I wasn't late, I made my way to the bleachers and climbed to the top bench. I was waiting around awkwardly for a while before my mind wandered to the odd package received by Dr. Nelson.

Dutifully, I brought out my journal and began to draw the cabinet from lab sixteen. The container was pretty tall, obviously I didn't actually measure it but it looked at least three feet tall. I sketched the creepy brain inside as accurately as I could and even illustrated the supposedly useless button on the base - the only button or input visible on the surface of the cabinet. It would be absurd to assume it did nothing, regardless of my experience. It could very well have had a safety lock.

The brain box was an intriguing mystery, to say the least. Making an otherwise lacklustre day far more memorable.

I will admit I may have gotten a bit carried away with my note-making and extrapolation because it wasn't long before MJ practically screamed at me from the bottom of the bleachers, "Peter!" She must have been calling my name for a while because she seemed quite annoyed.

Interacting with MJ had been an almost surreal experience. I had been trying very hard not to associate the comics and movies from my old world to the people here. From my conversation with Dr. Frost and my own research, I knew that even though a lot of features were the same as the fiction from my past, the nature of them could vary wildly. Frost herself was a surprise, I always knew she was not inherently evil. However, at the very least, she had a healthy professional interest in treating a random patient - despite the oddness.

So, if the Mary Jane Watson I saw in front of me did not match up to the woman from the comics; it was entirely my fault for putting those expectations on her in the first place. Up until that point, I had been expecting something significant would happen when I met a major character like MJ. It was slightly disappointing to realise that she was just another person, really.

But then I remembered the close call that was my encounter with Dr. Frost and decided I did not need that kind of stress in my life. It was pure luck that I had stepped into her life before she was first kidnapped by Magneto.

"Let's go dweeb," called Flash from his place between the trio without much malice.

I didn't like the fact that Flash appeared to be coming with us but making a fuss about it would be ridiculous. He was dating Liz and seemed close enough to MJ as well.

"Yeah, yeah."

I strapped my bag to my back and hopped down the bleachers two levels at a time. I may not be Spider-Man but that did not mean I wasn't agile.

I was undeservedly proud of my minor feat and grinned an enthusiastic "Hello," to the group. They were a tough crowd though. Liz just rolled her eyes and led us away from the grounds.

We made our way towards Liz' car and I learnt from her that their cheer-leading try-outs had gone well. Both MJ and she had gotten positions on the squad. Liz seemed genuinely excited about meeting to practice every day, but MJ was suspiciously silent throughout the exchange.

Once at the parking lot, before Liz could point out her car, Flash extricated himself from Liz' grasp and made a beeline to a pair of boys in jerseys - presumably, his teammates.

"Give me a second," he gritted out as he left.

Once there, Flash grabbed the one on the left by his neck and pulled him behind his car, blocking most of my view. I couldn't hear what Flash said to him but suddenly the boy's head disappeared under the hood of the car away from view.

"Ow! Damnit Flash. What the hell?!" whined a pained voice from behind the car. They were rather far away so the fact that I could hear that said quite a lot.

Holy shit!

The sudden violence surprised me, and I whipped my head back to see the reactions of the two girls. Liz was just glaring angrily in the direction Flash had left but was otherwise untroubled by the fate of the boy. Meanwhile MJ appeared to have just turned away guiltily.

What the hell is going on?

When I reduced the distance between myself and the car by about half, I heard his voice again, "He was stalking your girl man! We had to do somethi-"

Once again, I could not hear Flash's response but seconds later I heard a thump, "No!" the boy grunted in pain, "That's not what I said!"

I finally made it around the side of the car to find the boy down on his ass, his hair dishevelled. He did not look particularly roughed up beyond the state of his hair, and the small amount of spittle pooled on the ground between his legs was further proof that Flash had resorted to using only body blows.

"Flash! What the hell are you doing!?"

"Mind your own business parker." He hissed at me without turning around.

Before he could grab the boy's hair and pull him up for another go at playing piñata, I get between them and push back at Flash.

Oh boy.

Flash was freaking heavy. I realised quickly I probably would not be able to budge him no matter how well I thought I was doing physically, so instead I thought I'd buy some time. I was pretty loud when I stopped him, maybe I drew attention from nearby security.

"Flash, what are you doing? He's your teammate, isn't he?" I repeated for lack of anything else to say.

I had no idea what was going on. I knew Flash was supposed to be a bit of a bully in school, but I had not expected him to pick on his own teammates as well. There were no usual signs of bullying; no goading or attention seeking. He was just…hitting him. To be honest, it looked more like a mugging.

To my surprise however, my words proved enough to forestall his will to fight.

He shoved my hands off his body with a disgruntled snarl pointed at the downed footballer, then he walked away. If I did not know any better, I could've sworn the psychopath grinned at me as he passed by.

I wanted to ask the two targets of Flash's rage what had just gone down but a quick glance back at MJ and Liz told me they were already heading towards their transport.

So, for the second time that day, I curbed my curiosity and minded my own business as I left the poor sod to his pal's administrations. I am certain he would have at least appreciated the greater beating I saved him from.

As I neared Liz' car I heard the butt end of her conversation with Flash.

"Are you saying you should drive because I'm a girl, Flash?" Liz said somehow both sweetly and menacingly.

In Flash's defence, he was genuinely taken aback. "What? No!"

Flash could tell as well as I could that Liz tripping him on purpose so he changed tack, "Besides, aren't you the one who keeps saying I should do more boyfriend-like stuff for you? Come on, babe, let me drive you."

They were both strangely amused throughout their tiny spat and only once it ended did I realise that it was probably just something of a ritual between the two. They were a surprisingly good pair.

"You can ride shotgun Flash," she ordained, "Either that or you ride bitch in the back. We can't leave these two kids without a chaperon after all." She added once again in that saccharine tone.

Flash followed Liz' gaze to MJ and then to me as I reached the car. He gave me a smiling nod as I neared and then went in, presumably in a good mood after bloodying his knuckles and kissing his girl.

Freaking caveman.

It goes without saying that he took the seat by the driver, leaving MJ and I to sit at the back.

I was going over what just happened as Liz pulled us out of the parking lot. The annoyance on Liz' face when I glanced at her was to be expected, she could very well have just been pissed that Flash was making her wait as he pummelled some defenceless kid senseless. Even MJ's, guilty expression was understandable now that I had gotten a better grasp of her character. It felt like she just didn't have it in her to be contrary to her best friend.

Liz Allan was quite the monster.

I knew Flash would not explain anything if I asked, so I could only let his good mood persist. Instead, I decide on a relatively safe topic of conversation: school.

"You know that show and tell, Dr. Nelson mentioned in class today?" I ask Flash and Liz.

A glance at MJ confirmed that she heard that in her class as well, so I continued, "I think it may actually be pretty cool!"

"Of course, you do," snarked Liz as she stopped for a red light.

"No, really! I may have snuck a glance at it after my labwork with her. I'm not sure if she's showing what I think she is; but if she is, oh boy, are you going to be freaked out."

I could tell they were wondering now but were too stubborn to revel in curiosity. So I turned to MJ, hoping she would take the bait but she was barely paying attention.

Another Polar Bear bites the dust. Ill-fated to die under the weight of the ice it could not break.

"So, that research gig you're doing; is that for, like, college credits?" asked Flash after an awkward moment, answering the Bear's dying prayers.

"Oh, I don't plan on going to college," I answered easily.

As soon as the words left my mouth, the car came to an uncomfortable halt. Liz had been nearing another red light and overstepped the brakes in shock.

"What!?" exclaimed all three teenagers.

"This city has a lot of traffic lights, huh." I said, slightly amused.

I had MJ's full attention now, I didn't know she cared so much about college. In fact, had I still been associating her to her comic counterpart, I would bet she did not.

"What do you mean, Peter?" she asked.

"I just don't see the need to waste years of my life validating my knowledge to some stuck-up elitists when I can just do my own thing."

"I think it's safe to say, Peter, that none of us could have expected that," said Flash with a face looking like I told him football was played with feet, not hands. His utter confusion was sufficiently amusing, and I was glad I had replied so nonchalantly.

"What about you Flash, are you grabbing a sports scholarship for yourself?" I asked, ready to keep the conversation moving.

My words did not have the intended effect, however, because his mood soon worsened considerably.

He had a decidedly negative view of the school's administration and made that abundantly clear over a short stream of invective. The school's blatant favouritism towards the Sciences he explained, was making his life far more miserable than it needed to be. He was truly a skilled sportsman, after all and would have had a million and one opportunities anywhere else.

Liz on the other hand, was not sure what she wanted to do. She definitely wanted to have the 'college experience', but beyond that she wasn't so sure.

Curiously, when it was MJ's turn, she said she wanted to be a film star. A different story from her little rant that morning. She sat a little straighter and her eyes were brighter than when we first started talking. It did her good to have a frank conversation about the future with people of her age.

Well, partly her age.

Liz pulled into the Watsons' driveway and promptly booted us out the car. She gave us a gracious few seconds to make our goodbyes and drove off dangerously. I wouldn't say the drive was terrifying, but she drove a faster car than I had ever been in before and she wasn't afraid to advertise its speed. I could see why Flash wanted to drive the vehicle.

The Porsche quickly reduced to a red speck in the distance and MJ and I were left in increasing silence.

"Well then, I guess I'll see you later MJ. At school, I mean. Not literally, that would be weird."

Ugh, I need sleep. I'm rambling. What a day.

"Bye Pete," MJ gave me a laugh and a jerky wave goodbye, a little awkward because of the relatively small distance between us and scurried off back home.

Once I made it through my own doors, I met my first surprise for the night. Aunt May was home and it was only six o'clock.

"Aunt May!? Is everything alright? Why are you home so early?"

A fleeting thought crossed my mind and my eyes widened in terror, "Did something happen to Uncle Ben?"

Panic had quite easily stepped in. I had not seen nor heard even a whisper of a radioactive spider, but Dr. Frost's life did not follow her portrayals to the letter either. Events being jumbled around was not too far a stretch for my overactive imagination.

"No, no Peter. Calm down, will you? Oh gosh, Peter, what will I do with you?" She got behind me and began to push me to the living room while massaging my shoulders. "You really need to get out of this habit of assuming the worst will happen. Do you know hard it is to explain why I don't have Facebook to new friends? They must think I'm so old!"

She interrupts my attempt at a cheeky rebuttal with a, "Hush now let's go talk to your Uncle."

"Uncle Ben's home too?"

I went through a list of the things I could be in trouble for. I could safely say that it was highly improbable that they had found the worst offenders. But they could have easily found something less incriminating lying around.

Uncle Ben's genial smile at seeing us though erased the thought of any verbal discipline coming my way.

This better not be a birds and bees thing, that would be absurd.

The chiming of the doorbell stops us before we could start, and I rush off to open it in order to buy myself some time to think. Them being home early should have meant food was cooked, but I guess everyone was feeling a bit tired that day.

I opened the door for what I assumed was pizza delivery only to find two redheads carrying food and wine.

I blinked and my brain rebooted at the unexpected visitors; my parting words to MJ made me feel a bit silly now.

I greeted them politely and Aunt May ushered them into the living room to meet Uncle Ben. I closed the door behind the leaving group and rested my head on it for a moment.

A slight laugh from behind me ended my attempt to muster the energy I had left, "Hey Pete." MJ had presumably left her mother's fate to May and Ben, opting to wait for the Parker she already knew.

"Hey MJ, did you know about this?" I asked, slightly disgruntled.

"Haha yeah, my mum told me on the porch today morning," she answered brightly.

I rolled my eyes at her and began to walk her to the living room, "I'm glad you're amused."

Nobody tells me anything around here!

When we met with the rest of our families, May's and Ben's wry expression told me the little housewarming party wasn't meant to be quite this much of a surprise.

Regardless, I managed to avoid any social pitfalls despite my lack of information on our two guests. I stayed away from the topic of her father since I didn't see him, and since he wasn't brought up, I guess he wasn't in the picture.

The night ended on a pleasant note after a lovely dinner. We learnt a lot about the Watsons over May's Roasted Chicken and Mrs. Watson's Risotto. For one, there was at least a fifty percent chance that cooking was in their genes. Other than that, though, they seemed to have lived an almost uncommonly dull life.

I went to sleep thanking my stars that May and Ben had stayed away from childhood photos, that would have been a little too surreal for me.

Now if only things can remain this calm.
 
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"I just don't see the need to waste years of my life validating my knowledge to some stuck-up elitists when I can just do my own thing."
Is... this a joke? He understands how connection building works, right? Like, congratulations if he legitimately knows everything a standard college will teach him, but good luck getting anywhere in academia or research without a degree. It just comes off as super jarring and arrogant. Yeah, you'll have to sit through lectures on stuff you already know, but doing so isn't about "elitism." Its about verification of skills. Any potential hire for anything is screened to make sure they have the relevant skills and knowledge. And going to college, especially for a Doctorate or a Masters is the best way to get recommendations from other respected minds in the field. Those Professors can smooth your entire career path based on the weight of their words alone. Choosing to ignore that field entirely is equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot for the rest of your scientific career. It also drops your credibility for selling potential inventions. Basically, if Peter wants to have a non-superhero job that pays beyond minimum wage, or sell his inventions, he needs a degree. Even Tony flipping Stark has a degree in engineering from MIT.
 
Is... this a joke? He understands how connection building works, right? Like, congratulations if he legitimately knows everything a standard college will teach him, but good luck getting anywhere in academia or research without a degree. It just comes off as super jarring and arrogant. Yeah, you'll have to sit through lectures on stuff you already know, but doing so isn't about "elitism." Its about verification of skills. Any potential hire for anything is screened to make sure they have the relevant skills and knowledge. And going to college, especially for a Doctorate or a Masters is the best way to get recommendations from other respected minds in the field. Those Professors can smooth your entire career path based on the weight of their words alone. Choosing to ignore that field entirely is equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot for the rest of your scientific career. It also drops your credibility for selling potential inventions. Basically, if Peter wants to have a non-superhero job that pays beyond minimum wage, or sell his inventions, he needs a degree. Even Tony flipping Stark has a degree in engineering from MIT.
No he doesn't. In fact, it's a highly reactionary decision based on past experience. A bad one. Don't worry, your faith in your college degree in not misplaced, lol.
 
Did he forget the Otto in Peter's body went back to school for a PhD because having one was useful?
 
Is... this a joke? He understands how connection building works, right? Like, congratulations if he legitimately knows everything a standard college will teach him, but good luck getting anywhere in academia or research without a degree. It just comes off as super jarring and arrogant. Yeah, you'll have to sit through lectures on stuff you already know, but doing so isn't about "elitism." Its about verification of skills. Any potential hire for anything is screened to make sure they have the relevant skills and knowledge. And going to college, especially for a Doctorate or a Masters is the best way to get recommendations from other respected minds in the field. Those Professors can smooth your entire career path based on the weight of their words alone. Choosing to ignore that field entirely is equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot for the rest of your scientific career. It also drops your credibility for selling potential inventions. Basically, if Peter wants to have a non-superhero job that pays beyond minimum wage, or sell his inventions, he needs a degree. Even Tony flipping Stark has a degree in engineering from MIT.

Maybe Peter wants to struggle the rest of his life as a half time photographer for the NYC Paper, and full time super hero?
 
Did he forget the Otto in Peter's body went back to school for a PhD because having one was useful?
Doc Ock's seal of approval is irrelevant to his position. He's just a bit delusional about his own ability. He's the smartest he's ever been after all.
The irony is intentional. And I kind of like it.

That being said, I just re-read the chapter and I think I can make his opinion more explicit. Thanks for pointing out the weirdness, you guys!
 
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This guy is walking around like Hydra, the Hand and other fonts of bastardly don't exist. Did he really start telling people about his extra-dimensional knowledge? Did he luck into Emma Frost or did she specifically search him out?
 
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