13: Chapter 13 The Birth of Spider-Man

Peter should have been worried—extremely worried, in fact.

The next morning, when he went downstairs for breakfast, Uncle Ben was holding the Daily Bugle. The front-page headline screamed in bold letters: "Mysterious Criminal Ruins Block Party." Accompanying it was a sketch of Peter's outfit from the night before.

The eyes were drawn passably well, but the rest of it looked like a demon crawled out of hell. The jacket was depicted as if it were made of scales, and most ridiculously of all, sharp claws had been drawn on his hands.

Honestly, though, Peter was actually quite pleased. The public knew of his existence, but they still didn't know his true identity. Currently, the only thing anyone knew for sure was the spider logo on his jacket. People had already started calling him "Spider," which was indeed a fitting moniker.

When he got to school, Harry Osborn walked ahead with his head down, followed by his father, Norman Osborn.

Peter was standing in front of his locker when he spotted Norman at a glance. The other man noticed him too and flashed a smile—one that sent a shiver down his spine. Peter knew from the memories of this body's original owner that he had met Norman at Harry's house before; the man was broad-shouldered and well-built, with explosive muscles clearly hidden beneath his suit.

Peter instinctively wanted to avoid him or just run away, but Norman was already walking straight toward him with Harry. He could only take a deep breath, tensing his nerves to prepare for the confrontation.

"Mr. Parker," Norman said, extending his hand.

"Dr. Osborn," Peter said, shaking his hand. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Norman raised an eyebrow slightly at having his title addressed correctly. "I'm here on a bit of private business. Can we find somewhere quiet to talk?"

Peter glanced at the thoroughly embarrassed Harry, nodded, and followed Norman out of the school. The two strolled around the block, with Harry trailing ten meters behind.

"I must admit, Peter, you've surprised me. How did you know I received my doctorate?"

"A year ago, when Harry and I were still close friends, I was very interested in your research, so I looked up your profile. Your paper on mechanical muscle replacement surgery is highly cutting-edge."

A flash of surprise crossed Norman's eyes. "You understood it?"

"Replacing damaged or dysfunctional muscle with semi-liquid metal. The process requires injecting nanobots into the affected area to reshape the system at a cellular level. But the bottleneck lies in artificial intelligence; the nanobots aren't smart enough to handle complex micro-operations."

Norman smiled. "Very good, Peter. I like you."

From behind, Harry listened with a look of utter confusion. "What?"

"This doesn't concern you right now, Harry," Norman interrupted with a frown, turning back to Peter. "You're a bright young man. Harry says your grades are always at the top of the class. Is that true?"

Peter narrowed his eyes. Norman was no fool; he definitely knew his grades. So why was he deliberately buttering him up? Unless...

Peter let out a soft chuckle. "Dr. Osborn, let's cut to the chase. Why exactly did you come looking for me?"

"Straight to the point, excellent," Norman laughed. "Then let me test your wits. Why do you think I'm here?"

"You're afraid I'll sue Harry for attacking me last night." Peter's tone was flat. In the distance, Harry's shoulders tensed at the words. "You came to ensure my silence."

Norman nodded. "Harry severely underestimated you."

"Thank you. To be honest, the thought did cross my mind, but I felt it would be too much of a hassle." Peter shrugged.

"Are you sure? As far as I know, your uncle and aunt are in desperate need of money." Norman's tone carried a hint of provocation.

Peter knew the man was trying to rile him up, but he remained unfazed. "Perhaps, but my uncle and aunt have their principles. Taking money this way wouldn't be right."

"Giving up a chance to give your family a better life just for the sake of what's 'right'?" Norman stared at him. "Peter, if doing something could save the World and everyone in it, even if the means were wrong, wouldn't you do it?"

Looking at the twisted sense of justice in Norman's eyes, Peter could almost envision his future madness as the Green Goblin.

"Dr. Osborn, Earth currently has a population of seven billion, but its carrying capacity is only four billion. If I were to kill three billion people to save the future of humanity, would you consider that method reasonable?"

Norman was stunned. A moment later, he burst into laughter. "Peter, I'm liking you more and more."

He pulled a checkbook from his pocket, wrote down a series of numbers, tore the check out, and handed it to Peter. "There aren't many things in this World I care about, but my son is one of them. He made a mistake, and I hope you can forgive his stupidity and put this matter behind you."

Peter looked down at the check. Twenty thousand dollars.

His Adam's apple bobbed. With this money, he could upgrade his Spider-Suit, buy a top-of-the-line computer, and solve countless problems. But he couldn't. He would never accept charity, especially not from Norman Osborn.

"Thank you, Dr. Osborn, but I appreciate the thought." Peter pushed the check back.

"This could greatly improve your family's life. Is your pride really more important than their hardships?"

"You didn't listen to a word I said." Peter rolled his eyes. "I said the means are just as important as the end. Put yourself in my shoes. If you were the one at a disadvantage, would you cast aside your pride and listen to someone who thinks you're only worth a piece of paper and some ink? What about the pride of the Osborn family?"

Norman was dumbfounded. He looked at Peter, then at the check, and suddenly threw his head back and laughed.

"You are a remarkable young man, Peter." Norman took back the check and tore it to shreds right in front of him. "I apologize for insulting you in this manner. Since you have no intention of pursuing Harry's actions, I will trust you. If you ever need anything in the future, feel free to reach out. Have a good day."

He turned and walked toward the Lincoln parked on the corner, casting a cold glance at Harry before leaving. "We'll talk when we get home."

"Yes... Father." Harry kept his head down, not daring to look him in the eye.

Watching the luxury car drive off, Peter patted Harry on the shoulder. "Your dad has an incredibly powerful aura."

"You have no idea," Harry said with a bitter smile.

Peter, of course, knew.

...

After school that day, Peter was worn out from being drilled by Colleen Wing at the dojo. His swordsmanship was already quite superb, with fast and precise strikes. Although he still couldn't beat Colleen, he was already one of the top fighters in the dojo.

At night, in the Underground Room laboratory.

Peter rubbed his aching shoulders, his mind entirely consumed by thoughts of money. Twenty thousand dollars had just flown out the window simply because he wanted to reject a future arch-nemesis. While that was indeed a solid reason, the reality was that Aunt May and Uncle Ben were still struggling to make ends meet. Uncle Ben was working two jobs, and Peter had sunk all his money into his Spider-Man gear.

He had to make money. But how?

His first thought was to invent some high-tech gadgets and apply for patents. His and Peter's talent could definitely produce something notable. But reality quickly doused him with cold water: research costs were too high, or the tech was too complex to commercialize. Just the patent application fee would cost three hundred dollars, an amount he couldn't even scrape together right now.

Sell photos to the Daily Bugle? Out of the question. The journalism industry was in decline, and with everyone carrying a smartphone nowadays, if he swung around the streets in his suit, he would become a viral meme mocking him within three seconds.

Become a white-hat hacker? Find server vulnerabilities for companies to earn bounties? Peter's computer skills weren't at that level yet.

Invest in stocks that would skyrocket in the future? Without seed capital, that was out of the question.

Peter sighed and went upstairs to ask Aunt May for her advice, only to find her staring intently at the television.

"Aunt May, what's wrong?"

"It's terrible, Peter, there's a fight in the streets!" Aunt May pointed at the screen.

Peter turned his head to look. The news was broadcasting a live battle on Madison Avenue. On the screen, a man clad in metallic armor and a green cape raised his hand to unleash lightning. Immediately after, a fireball rained down from the sky, slamming into the armored man. Yet, he caught the fireball with his bare hands and hurled it back at a massive orange rock monster.

Wait, that was The Thing!

Peter's pupils dilated. That green-caped man was Victor von Doom! That fireball was the Human Torch, Johnny Storm! It had only been a few weeks since the Fantastic Four gained their abilities, and it seemed Victor von Doom had also acquired his power around this time.

"Aunt May, I have to run back to school, I forgot something! I'll be back in an hour!"

Peter shouted, ignoring Aunt May's calls as he rushed back down to the Underground Room.

He quickly changed into his Spider-Suit, checked his Web-shooters to ensure they were fully loaded, and then slipped out of the house. He moved through the tree canopies and shadows until he was far from Queens, only then shooting a Webbing to swing into the night sky.

Ten minutes later, Peter arrived at Madison Avenue.

His heart hammered in his chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety. The Fantastic Four could handle Victor von Doom, right? They were the main characters; they didn't need his help.

But no, he had to act.

Peter's gaze hardened. He needed to officially introduce the name "Spider-Man" to the public. The Fantastic Four had always been synonymous with heroes; if he could fight alongside them in this debut, no one would question his stance.

He swung through the skyscrapers of Manhattan, where the three-dimensional terrain felt practically custom-made for him. Just as he rounded Madison Avenue, his Spider-Sense suddenly flared with a frantic warning.

A car was being hurled toward him like a cannonball by Victor von Doom.

Peter decisively let go of his Webbing, landing on the hood of the speeding car. He shot webs from both hands to anchor onto the buildings on either side, using the tension to rapidly slow the vehicle down. Just as the car was about to drop, he yanked the Webbing violently, launching himself and the car backward like an electromagnetic railgun straight at Victor von Doom.

"Watch out!"

The Fantastic Four turned their heads in unison. Johnny Storm pulled up in a thrilling dodge, while Peter leaped into the air just a split second before the impact.

Boom!

The car exploded into a fireball upon hitting Victor von Doom. Peter crawled down the building and landed on the street, secretly clicking his tongue in amazement. He hadn't expected that trick to work so well.

"Holy crap! That was so freaking cool!" Johnny Storm extinguished the flames on his body and landed next to Peter. "Dude, who are you?"

"We'd like to know too," Mister Fantastic Reed and Invisible Woman Susan walked over.

"Uh... a friend?" Peter shrugged.

"I mean, do you have a name?" The Thing, Ben Grimm, asked in a booming, gravelly voice.

Peter pointed to the massive spider emblem on his jacket. "I'm Spider-Man."

"Lame!" Johnny Storm scoffed. "Who'd want to be called Spider?"

"Oh yeah? Well, then 'Human Flashlight' suits you pretty well."

Susan burst out laughing, and Reed's lips curled upward. The Thing laughed even louder. "Ha! Good one, kid!"

Boom!

The burning wreckage of the car was blown away as Victor von Doom emerged from the sea of fire, his armor still completely intact.

Peter looked around. Civilians were shivering in the corners, and news cameras were pointed right at him. Excellent, Spider-Man had officially made his debut.

"We have to draw him away. There are too many civilian casualties," Peter said.

"Anyone got a plan?" Johnny Storm, covered in fire, hovered in mid-air.

"His power is plasma, right?" Peter stared at the electrical arcs on Victor von Doom's body.

"Correct, and he has an extremely advanced suit of armor. Its defense might be on par with Stark's," Reed added.

"River Water," Peter said decisively. "Get him into the river. Water will short-circuit him."

"Good idea. Ben, can you drag him into the East River?" Reed stretched his arms, taking an offensive stance.

"Leave it to me, Stretch," The Thing cracked his knuckles.

"Susan, we'll cover you. Johnny, distract him with fireballs!"

"On it!" Johnny Storm charged straight ahead.

"I didn't say go now!" Reed grit his teeth, then turned to Peter. "Spider-Man, can you give us a hand?"

"Happy to oblige," Peter leaped onto a streetlamp and swung into the battlefield.

"Take this, Victor von Doom!" The Thing charged like a tank. "It's clobberin' time!"

Victor von Doom stood his ground and took the punch head-on. The pavement cracked beneath his feet, but he only sneered, "Still as pathetic as ever, Ben Grimm."

A bolt of lightning blasted out, knocking The Thing flat onto the ground.