~The Other Parker~
The first days after the Oscorp trip were chaos—at least for Peter.
For me, they were confirmation. My Mimicry had copied the spider's gift from him flawlessly. Every day, I felt stronger, sharper, more alive than I'd ever been in my old life. My body was honed, efficient, perfect. But while I trained quietly in shadows, Peter stumbled through discovery like a newborn deer.
By day, he was still the scrawny Parker kid. By night, he was something else.
Peter's Restlessness
It started with the little things.
He broke his glasses one morning, staring at the shattered lenses like the world had betrayed him. "I—I don't need them anymore," he whispered to himself. He didn't see me smirking from the doorway.
Then came the accident with Flash. Peter had taken one shove too many, and this time his reflexes sent Flash sprawling across the hall like a ragdoll. The crowd gasped, whispers spreading, and Peter ran out before anyone could question what happened.
That night, I found him scribbling formulas into his notebook, muttering about tensile strength and synthetic polymers. Web fluid.
The pieces were falling into place.
But Peter wasn't satisfied. I caught him staring out his bedroom window long after Aunt May had gone to bed, eyes fixed on the city skyline.
I knew the look. Restlessness. The kind that made people want to leap into the unknown.
So when I heard his window creak open past midnight, I wasn't surprised.
I slipped my sneakers on, pulling my hoodie over my head, and followed him into the night.
Peter didn't know I was trailing him. He was too wrapped up in his own exhilaration, testing his powers in the glow of streetlamps.
He started with climbing. Hands and feet stuck to brick like suction cups, he scurried up walls with wide-eyed wonder. Then came the leaps—long, impossible arcs from one fire escape to another. Every time he landed, he grinned like he was flying.
Watching him, I felt a strange pang. He looked so… free. This was his world opening up. His story beginning.
And mine? Mine was to make sure he lived to tell it.
Back at the house, Uncle Ben must have noticed Peter missing. By the time we reached the main street near the convenience store, I saw the familiar shape of his old coat under the flickering streetlight.
He was calling softly. "Peter? Ethan? Where are you boys?"
My stomach sank.
He'd followed Peter.
And he wasn't alone.
A man emerged from the shadows of the alley—jittery, unshaven, clutching a pistol like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
"Wallet. Now," the thug demanded, voice rough.
Uncle Ben froze, hands lifting slowly. "Alright, son. Let's not do anything stupid—"
The thug's finger twitched on the trigger.
My spider-sense roared.
I didn't think. I moved.
Dropping silently from the fire escape, I landed behind the thug just as he spun toward the noise. His pistol came up—but I was faster.
I grabbed his wrist, twisting it in a perfect aikido lock I'd seen once on TV. The gun slipped from his grip, clattering to the pavement.
He cursed, throwing a wild punch. I ducked, countering with a clean boxing jab to his ribs. He wheezed, stumbling back, only to be swept off his feet by a taekwondo kick.
Every move flowed like water. I wasn't just fighting—I was channeling every martial artist I'd ever seen, every technique refined through Mimicry and amplified by spider strength.
The thug hit the ground hard, groaning.
Uncle Ben stood frozen, eyes wide.
"E-Ethan?" he whispered.
I straightened slowly, heart pounding. My hood had slipped just enough for him to see my face.
"…Uncle Ben," I said, breathless.
We didn't call the police right away. Uncle Ben, still shaken, guided me back toward the car parked on the corner. Peter was already there, pacing nervously, unaware of how close disaster had come.
"Uncle Ben! Where were you? I—" Peter stopped when he saw my bruised knuckles, the tension in Ben's shoulders.
"Everything's fine, Peter," Ben said firmly, though his voice trembled. "But we need to talk."
The ride home was silent.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, Uncle Ben cut the engine and turned to us. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with something heavy.
"You boys… listen to me," he said slowly. "Tonight—I could've died. And Ethan… you—" He faltered, glancing at me. I shifted uncomfortably, praying he wouldn't expose me.
Instead, he drew a shaky breath. "There's something you both need to understand. With great power…" His gaze swept from me to Peter. "…comes great responsibility."
The words hit like thunder.
Peter frowned, confused, but thoughtful. I stayed quiet, forcing myself not to react.
Ben leaned back, rubbing his temples. "I don't know what's going on with either of you. But promise me—you'll remember that. Always."
Peter swallowed, nodding slowly. "I… I promise, Uncle Ben."
I nodded too, though my vow was different. I wasn't just remembering. I was living it.
Life didn't pause just because destiny stirred. The next day, we were back at school, trying to act normal.
That's when Gwen Stacy entered the picture.
She wasn't new—I'd seen her around before. Blonde hair, sharp eyes, confidence that set her apart from most of our classmates. But until now, she'd been more in Peter's orbit—one of the few who actually treated him kindly.
Today, though, she stopped me in the hall.
"Hey, Ethan."
I blinked. "Uh… hey, Gwen."
She tilted her head, studying me. "You were out late last night, weren't you?"
My heart skipped. "What makes you say that?"
"You've got that look," she said with a sly smile. "Like you didn't sleep at all."
I chuckled nervously. "Maybe I just study too much."
"Uh-huh. Sure." Her grin widened. Then, softer: "You know… you're different from Peter. Calmer. More… grounded."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's a polite way of calling me boring."
She laughed. "No. It's… nice."
For a moment, I forgot about powers, destiny, shadows. She was just a girl smiling at me in the hallway, and I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could have something normal after all.
That night, Peter was restless again, sketching ideas for gadgets in his notebook. I watched from my bed, replaying Uncle Ben's words in my head.
"With great power comes great responsibility."
The canon had shifted. Ben was alive. Peter wasn't crushed by grief. But the lesson remained. The universe had found a way to deliver it anyway.
And now, it was my turn.
Because someday soon, Peter would need to hear it again—not from Uncle Ben, but from his brother. From the shadow that kept him safe.
I closed my eyes, making the vow once more.
I would protect them. Peter. Ben. May. Even Gwen.
Whatever it took.
I wasn't the Spider-Man.
I was the Other Parker.
And I would never fail them.