"Man, I'm stuffed," Peter said as the chilled air prickled his skin.
"I don't know. I could eat some more. The turkey Mrs. Parker prepared is by far one of the best I've ever had." Wyatt said as he stretched his arms over his head. He looked ahead to watch as Gwen walked in front of them on the sidewalk with a distracted expression. "So... is Gwen still giving you the silent treatment?"
Peter nodded with a sad frown. Wyatt offered his friend a smile and patted his back. "She'll come around. Just give her time."
"Yeah… I know." Peter nodded as the sidewalks grew more crowded as their group reached Midtown Square.
Marching down West 34th Street was the tail end of New York's annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, a cherished tradition that dates back to its inception in 1924. This iconic event drew thousands of visitors and viewers from around the world, eager to witness an extravagant spectacle that transforms the city into a vibrant celebration of the holiday season.
As the parade progresses, giant balloons — some depicting beloved cartoon characters and others representing various cultural icons — float serenely above the crowd, captured in the spirit of joy and festivity. Elaborately designed floats glide by, showcasing themes that range from classic holiday moments to contemporary pop culture, each accompanied by the lively sounds of marching bands and spirited performances.
"Wyatt, look! It's the Atomic balloon that you and Dad were talking about," Gwen exclaimed as Wyatt and Peter stopped behind her to watch a cartoon depiction of Atomic floating above them. She gave Wyatt a playful smirk as she lifted her phone. "Do you want to take a picture with it? After all, it's so interesting to talk about!"
"Okay, okay. You're right, your dad and I were talking about something else. But… it was guy stuff? Yeah, guy stuff." Wyatt said with shaky confidence.
"…smooth," Peter whispered.
"Uh-huh. Still, we should take a picture. The three of us. To commemorate our first Thanksgiving together," Gwen said, her smile brightening the room as she momentarily set aside her irritation with Peter. His heart lifted at her words, grateful for the chance to share a light moment.
The three friends huddled together as Wyatt held up Gwen's phone with his long arms. He expertly captured several candid photos, each click of the shutter freezing their joy in time. Once he was satisfied, he handed the phone to Gwen, who eagerly swiped through the images. A small, warm smile spread across her face as she appreciated the memories they were creating.
With their photos taken, the trio turned their attention back to the vibrant parade unfolding before them. The streets were alive with color and sound; massive balloons floated gracefully overhead while lively performances dazzled the crowd. They pointed excitedly at the various characters and floats gliding by, their chatter filled with exclamations of delight and shared memories.
"It's too bad Harry couldn't come," Gwen said as a passing Snoopy float passed over them. "I'm sure he would have enjoyed the parade."
"Yeah, he would. From what Harry told me, Norman is still trying to make peace with several of Oscorp's shareholders about the whole scandal involving how Oscorp got involved with the MRD prison camp fiasco," Peter said as he pulled out his phone to show off a picture of an exasperated Harry taking a sneaky picture in France. "I noticed this morning that Oscorp's stock is finally beginning to come out of the ditch it dug itself into."
"Hammer Industries took a hit, too. They almost filed for bankruptcy," Wyatt said with a withdrawn expression. "While I feel bad that Harry is getting dragged into his father's mess... Oscorp deserves what it got."
Gwen nodded, her mind replaying the events and information that was released in mass when the truth about the secret Nevada mutant prison was released. She could still remember how utterly horrified and disgusted she felt at the revelation. Looking over at Wyatt, Gwen frowned at the deep grimace on his face and at the way his eyes lost the bright light they held moments ago.
Sensing her gaze, Wyatt shook his head and offered her a small smile. "Okay, I think I've had enough of the parade. I know this great coffee shop that serves the best hot chocolate you'll ever find in the city. My treat?"
"Dude… how can you still eat?" Peter nodded as he and Gwen followed Wyatt away from the parade.
"Do they have any pumpkin muffins?" Gwen asked, moving away from the dark memories. She stepped up beside Wyatt with her arms behind her back.
"You too, Gwen? Where do you guys put it all away?" Peter asked in exasperation. "At what point did your stomachs get switched with black holes?"
••o••o••o••
After finishing their hot chocolate and muffins—except for Peter, who opted for just a small cup of water—Wyatt said goodbye to his friends at the coffee shop as they headed back to the Parker residence.
Despite the late hour, Wyatt wasn't concerned about them walking to Queens alone. After all, Gwen was with the Spectacular Spider-Man, making her the safest girl in New York at that moment.
With that in mind, Wyatt walked alone through the dark streets of Chelsea. His full stomach was busy digesting the day's meals. Not only was this leisurely walk aiding his digestion, but it also allowed Wyatt to enjoy the nightlife from the ground instead of high above in the skies.
Despite New York being the home city of Atomic—a fact that had contributed to an unprecedented drop in the city's crime rate—shameless criminals and thugs still lurked in the shadows.
Among them were four individuals whose intentions were unmistakably sinister. For the past five minutes, they had been trailing Wyatt, moving stealthily through the bustling streets. The cacophony of honking taxis and distant sirens seemed to fade into the background as they expertly weaved through crowds of unsuspecting pedestrians, their eyes fixed on their target.
These individuals would have gone unnoticed by any normal person; however, Wyatt, equipped with his Mystic Eyes and his natural ability to see the atoms all around him, was able to detect them as he walked through the streets easily.
A shakedown? Whatever this is, I may as well lead them away from the streets. I don't need to get anyone else involved. Wyatt thought as he continued onward as if he hadn't noticed the seedy group following after him. As he moved, he discreetly put on a pair of sunglasses and a medical mask he had created in his jacket.
Making a show of being lost, Wyatt turned left into an open alleyway and walked all the way down to a wall that blocked his path.
"Oh, man. Am I lost?" Wyatt said as he scratched the back of his head.
"Tonight's just not your night," the leader of the pact, Joel, said as he pulled out a switchblade from his jacket.
Wyatt turned around calmly and lifted his hands disarmingly. "Whoa! Easy, I don't want any problems. What is it that you want? My valuables?"
One of the members, Jonas, chuckled and pulled out a Glock 17 from his waist strap. "Sorry, but we don't want any of your crap. We need you to break in the new guy." Jonas said, handing the firearm to a young, nervous-looking teenager who appeared to be a junior in high school.
Collin, the high schooler, took the Glock with shaking fingers and aimed it unsteadily at Wyatt.
Wyatt frowned, choosing to ignore Collin as he stared at the tattoo on Jonas's wrist. The tattoo featured the emblem of the gang he had once tried to join—a sharp snake with wings on either side and a king's crown perched on its hissing head.
"The Golden Vipers…" Wyatt muttered.
"Oh? You've heard of us?" Joel smirked as he adjusted his expensive leather jacket. He held up a hand to Collin as he peered at Wyatt. "If you know about us, then you wouldn't be walking around here like an idiot. So? What crew do you run with? Why are you on our turf?"
Wyatt remained silent as he trailed his hand over his stomach, right over the location where he had been stabbed over two years ago.
"Is... is Hector still in the gang? How's he doing?" Wyatt asked in a small voice, gaining stunned expressions from the group.
"Wait… how do you know the boss?" Joel asked, his once overconfident demeanor replaced with one of trepidation.
Hector became the leader? How? Wyatt thought wide-eyed.
Before the fates of his two lives became inexplicably intertwined, the younger Wyatt found a rare solace in his friendship with Hector, his only true companion after he had been kicked out of his group home.
Hector, much like Wyatt, had grown up as an orphan, navigating the unforgiving streets with resilience and a fierce determination to survive.
Their paths intertwined one fateful night in a desolate junkyard, a chaotic expanse cluttered with rusted metal and forgotten debris. That night, Wyatt was rummaging through the jagged piles of scrap metal, desperately seeking anything of value to sell for a warm meal. As he sifted through the remnants of discarded machinery, he caught sight of a tense standoff unfolding nearby.
Hector, a striking figure with an unyielding gaze and a fierce determination, was surrounded by four other teens who exuded an air of menace. Yet, instead of backing down, Hector faced them head-on, his fierce spirit igniting a spark in the dim surroundings. In a flurry of swift punches and agile movements, he dismantled their aggressive postures with an impressive display of strength and courage, refusing to yield even when the odds were stacked against him.
From his hidden vantage point among the twisted heaps of metal, Wyatt was captivated by Hector, the easily influenced young teen he was. Inspired by Hector's unbreakable spirit, Wyatt decided to step out of the shadows. Over time, he shadowed Hector until the older teen finally acknowledged his presence and begrudgingly accepted Wyatt as a friend.
Hector's boldness, however, led him down a treacherous path. It was that very fierceness that had caught the attention of the Golden Vipers, a notorious gang recognized throughout the Chelsea area for their ruthless tactics and cunning strategies within the broader realms of organized crime. The Golden Vipers didn't just welcome anyone; the initiation process was both daunting and dangerous, a rite of passage that demanded respect and strength.
To even be considered for membership, one had to pay a significant fee that often drained one's meager resources. Acceptance was far from assured, and those fortunate enough to be invited into the fold faced an even grimmer challenge: a harrowing initiation test. This trial was not merely a test of allegiance; it was a grim act that required participants to take the life of a chosen victim—an innocent stranger selected by a high-ranking member of the gang.
The brutality of this initiation was notorious, leaving many young aspirants trembling with dread. Word had spread throughout Chelsea of those who had faltered during this deadly rite. It was widely known that failure did not mean just rejection; it often meant a swift and merciless death at the hands of the supervising Viper or their fearsome leader.
In a world where trust was as scarce as food, the stakes of joining the Golden Vipers were life and death, both for the initiates and for the unsuspecting victims chosen to serve as unwitting pawns in a ruthless game.
"They don't have space for cowards." Hector had told Wyatt on the night of his own initiation.
That fateful night, Wyatt found himself at a crossroads, poised to take the life of an innocent person in order to join the gang. It was not just any mission; it was a test of his loyalty and resolve, the key to gaining entry into the notorious gang he longed to join alongside his closest friend, Hector. The gang promised a sense of belonging and a way out of the harshness of everyday life on the streets.
Despite the pressure to prove himself, the younger Wyatt grappled with an internal struggle. The thought of pulling the trigger proved unbearable, and when the moment came, he couldn't bring himself to commit the heinous act.
With shaking hands and a heavy heart, he returned the cold, metallic pistol to Hector, rejecting not only the weapon but the darkness it represented.
In that instant of hesitation, Wyatt had sealed his fate.
The gang was unforgiving.
They viewed his refusal as a betrayal, an unforgivable weakness. Shortly thereafter, he was cornered by his so-called allies, brutalized for his decision. In a cruel twist of fate, he was stabbed to death and unceremoniously dumped into the icy depths of the Hudson River.
In the final seconds of his diminishing life, something extraordinary happened to Wyatt. His two lives began to merge inexplicably, awakening his dormant reality-warping powers, which not only saved his life but also offered him the chance to become more.
I can't believe I forgot about all that. No… I didn't forget. I just didn't want to think about it. My life has become so complicated and busy that it gave me the best excuse to not think about how my life could have ended that night. Wyatt thought.
Wyatt was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed the annoyed and frustrated looks Joel had been giving him over the past minute. The hardened gangster had been trying to get answers from Wyatt but had been ignored.
Not one to tolerate disrespect, Joel pulled out his pistol and fired.
A loud bang echoed through the alleyway, but the loud, ear cracking noise was quickly forgotten as Wyatt held up a glowing hand.
Floating in front of him was a red sphere containing a spinning 9mm bullet.
With a swift flick of Wyatt's wrist, the four gang members crumpled to the ground, their limbs ensnared within the constricting embrace of straight jackets that molded tightly around their bodies. A suffocating darkness enveloped them as snug and unyielding blindfolds were pulled over their eyes, robbing them of all light. Simultaneously, plush earplugs were thrust into their ears, obstructing any sound from penetrating their isolated world, leaving them suspended in an eerie silence.
With calm steps, Wyatt walked over to Joel's side and knelt. With a flick, Joel's earplugs were removed. "You're going to tell me where your crew's hideout is. Right. Now."
"W-what? What the hell is this! What are you?!" Joel yelled as he wiggled on the ground in an effort to escape.
Wyatt shook his head and grabbed Joel by the back of his neck. "Final warning… where's your hideout?"
"Screw you! I ain't no snitch!"
"Fine… have it your way."
Looks like we're doing things the Batman way. Wyatt thought with a groan, and in a flash, he now stood in his Atomic suit.
With a strong whoosh of wind, Atomic soared into the sky, clutching a terrified Joel within a vibrant crimson sphere. As they ascended higher, the dizzying heights brought them above the towering skyscrapers that pierced the skyline of the city.
In one swift motion, Atomic removed Joel's blindfold, revealing a breathtaking panorama that contrasted sharply with the chaos inside him. The hardened gangster, seasoned by a life of crime, felt an immediate wave of adrenaline, but it quickly morphed into sheer terror as he realized he was surrounded by a flock of birds, gliding effortlessly below him.
The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Panic surged through Joel; his heart raced wildly, and in a moment of utter horror, he soiled his pants and unleashed a primal scream that echoed against the concrete giants beneath them, a scream that felt as though it might reach the very heavens they were soaring through.
"W-west 18th Street! Our hideout is on West 18th Street! Now put the blindfold back on!" Joel screamed in a high pitch.
Atomic nodded before gently placing the blindfold back over the trembling man's eyes. After soaring back down to the ground, he carefully leaned Joel against the gritty brick wall of the narrow alley. The man's face scraped against the litter-strewn ground, his muffled pleas for his mother barely audible above the distant city sounds.
Atomic sighed, shaking his head as he considered flying away and having Eve notify the police to apprehend the gangsters. But just as he was about to take off, his gaze fell upon Collin, halting him in his tracks.
Walking over to Collin, Atomic undid the terrified teen's blindfold and knelt over him.
"You-you were A-Atomic? I-I…" Collin muttered as he began to cry.
"Easy, kid. It's alright… Look, I'm going to give you a choice. You can choose to stay with these men and go to jail alongside them, or you can give up on this fool's pursuit and do something with your life," Atomic said. "What will it be?"
Collin blinked in confusion at his situation and turned over to look at the three Golden Vipers members on the ground alongside him. The young teen closed his eyes and grimaced.
"What choice do I have? I don't got any money, I'm not smart, I'm not talented in anything! I have to fight to get through each day! What future do I have?! This life… this life is all I got, man! It's all I got…" Collin said as he tried to bury his face into the ground, as if to hide his shame. "I'm no good. I don't have a future."
Silence fell over the two as Atomic took in Collin's words. In a flash, the straitjacket over Collin transformed back into his clothes. Confusing the teen, as he was now able to move.
"You always have a choice, kid. You can choose to rise above your situation and become the best version of yourself. Or you can give up and fall into an abyss of hopelessness that you think you're in. No one can make that choice for you. Not me, not your friends, not your family. Only you. But if you choose this life, then there won't be a future for you. Trust me," Atomic said gently and stood up. "I'm giving you a chance. What you do from here is on you."
With his piece said, Atomic took flight into the night sky. Leaving behind Collin to stand over his potential future.
As Collin's trembling hand delved into the fabric of his pants pocket, his fingers brushed against the familiar, worn surface of the small pocket knife left to him by his absentee father. He froze, the weight of its presence igniting a storm of conflicting emotions within him.
With a breath that trembled almost as much as his hands, he drew the knife from its hiding place, the cold metal glinting under the dim light. His gaze flickered over to the frantic figures of Jonas, Joel, and Samuel, their bodies straining against the unforgiving confines of the straitjackets that bound them.
It was agonizing to watch their desperate writhing, and Collin knew that with a single swift movement of the blade, he could set them free.
After a moment of reflection, Collin turned and ran.