During class, Peter leaned over to whisper to John, his pencil tapping nervously against his desk.
"Hey, thanks for your help today," he said quietly, glancing toward the front to make sure the teacher wasn't watching. "But what did you say to Flash? One minute he was ready to fight, the next he just... stopped."
"It was nothing. I just told him I'd tell the teacher if he kept it up." John kept his eyes on his notebook, sketching absent patterns in the margins.
"Really?" Peter looked completely baffled, his eyebrows raising behind his glasses. That's all it took?
John, who wasn't paying attention to the lecture about molecular structures droning on at the front of the room, knew Peter's destiny was just around the corner. The watch in his pocket felt warm against his leg. "Hey, Peter," he asked curiously, turning to face his friend, "what would you do if you suddenly got superpowers?"
"I haven't really thought about it," Peter admitted, setting down his pencil. "I'm just an ordinary person. I guess... maybe I'd try to earn some money with them."
"Is that so? Maybe," John mused, studying Peter's earnest expression. "Who knows what the future holds?"
He just wants to help Uncle Ben and Aunt May, John thought, a somber feeling settling over him like a cold weight. It's always the same story, isn't it? Every version of Spider-Man loses his Uncle Ben. Does being a hero always have to come at such a high price? It feels like good people always get the worst of it. Is that just fate?
He looked at his friend with sudden intensity, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Peter, you're a good person. A good person shouldn't have to lose so much."
"John, why have you been acting so strange lately?" Peter asked, completely confused by the turn in conversation. He shifted in his seat, the plastic chair creaking softly.
"You'll understand eventually," John said, his voice low and determined. His hand moved unconsciously to his pocket, fingers closing around the mysterious device. "Peter, if fate has a tragedy planned for us, then I'll be the one to fight it." He unconsciously gripped the Knight Watch in his pocket. With this.
The watch in his pocket emitted a faint, warm white glow that only he could feel. He felt a slight vibration as the two black hands spun once around the dial. A whisper, barely audible, seemed to echo in the air around him: Kamen... Rider...
John's breath caught in his throat. Did I just imagine that?
"I don't really get what you mean," Peter said, shaking his head with a puzzled frown. "Are you talking about Flash?"
The teacher's voice cut through their conversation as she tapped the blackboard sharply with her pointer. "Peter. John. If you two keep talking, I'll ask you to leave."
The moment the bell rang, Flash Thompson was out of his seat and bee-lining for John's desk, his usual swagger replaced by something that looked almost like... nervousness? His massive frame towered over John as other students filed out around them.
"John, what did you mean by what you said earlier?" he demanded, but his usual bravado was gone. His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
A corner of John's mouth twitched. He hadn't expected his off-the-cuff remark to cause this much trouble. Seeing Flash's burning enthusiasm—the way his eyes lit up with desperate hope—John knew that if he didn't offer some kind of explanation, the guy would pester him every single day.
"Find me after school," John said, rubbing his forehead as a headache began to form behind his eyes.
"You got it, John! You have to wait for me!" Flash's face broke into the biggest grin John had ever seen from him. His mind was already racing with possibilities. He imagined that the quiet, invisible John was actually some kind of secret agent, placed in their school to recruit future superheroes. He, Flash Thompson, had been chosen! He would gain incredible powers, save the world, have beautiful women cheering his name, and walk the path to greatness...
Of course, if this quiet kid dared to lie to him, he would definitely make him pay.
Peter watched the exchange with a worried expression, his brow furrowed with concern. He came over once Flash had left, his footsteps quick on the linoleum floor.
"I'm sorry, John. How about I come with you to meet him after school?"
"It's fine, Peter. He's not looking for a fight," John reassured him, though he could see the doubt in Peter's eyes. "Flash isn't a bad guy at heart. A lot of his aggression comes from his home life. I'll talk to him, and I bet he'll stop bullying people."
"Well, if anything happens, you have to call me!" Peter said, clearly not convinced. He pulled out his phone and waved it meaningfully.
After the final bell, John found Flash waiting by the flagpole, practically bouncing on his toes with nervous energy. John walked over and patted him on the shoulder.
"Let's go. We can talk once we're outside."
"Oh, okay, okay! Right behind you," Flash said eagerly, turning to his friends who were gathering their football gear. "You guys go on without me, I'm not playing football today." He then quickly jogged to catch up with John, his heavy footsteps echoing in the emptying hallway.
The second they were through the school gates, Flash couldn't hold it in any longer. The afternoon air was crisp, and their breath came out in small puffs as they walked.
"So, John, what did you mean by what you said?"
"You mean the part about you being a superhero, right?" John asked as they walked down the tree-lined street.
"Yes! Exactly! Why did you say I'm some future superhero?" Flash's voice was pitched higher than usual, excitement making him almost vibrate with energy.
"You think being a superhero is a great thing?"
"Duh! Don't you think it's cool?" Flash said, his eyes wide with excitement. He gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke. "Superpowers, super speed, incredible strength, flying through the sky... I'd take any of it! If I were a superhero, I'd be a hundred times cooler than that Daredevil guy."
"You know about Daredevil?" John asked, surprised.
"Yeah, the guy in the tight suit who beats up villains in Hell's Kitchen at night, right?"
"Do you know why he does that?"
"Because it's cool!" Flash declared, throwing his arms wide. "Imagine jumping out from the shadows when criminals are making a deal and just beating them all up!"
John was a little speechless. Flash talked about fighting gangs like it was a video game, his face lit up with the same enthusiasm he showed for football touchdowns. "His father was killed by a gang when he was a kid. That's why he fights crime. Also, he's blind. I'm guessing you wouldn't want to be blind."
"What? He's blind?" Flash stopped walking, his face going pale. "The papers never said that. But what does that have to do with me?"
"My point is, being a hero often comes from a place of tragedy. You might not want the life that leads to it." John's voice was gentle but firm.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Flash's excitement was rapidly being replaced by confusion and a growing sense of unease.
"Look, I don't know how to explain it," John said, stopping under a streetlight that had just flickered on in the gathering dusk. "Let's just say I have an ability to see… possibilities for the future. They're vague, and nothing is guaranteed, so don't take it as gospel."
"Wait, you have superpowers?" Flash stared at John, his jaw dropping. His mind reeled with the implications. He'd heard rumors about super-powered people, but to think one was right beside him—and with an incredible ability like seeing the future!
"Do you still want to hear?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, yes, of course! Keep going!" Flash grabbed John's arm, his grip surprisingly gentle despite his excitement.
John took a deep breath, knowing this would change everything between them. "Okay. In one possible future, you join the army. You lose both of your legs saving your comrades," John said bluntly, watching Flash's face carefully. "After that, you participate in a secret government experiment and merge with a black, gooey alien life form. You become this hulking black monster, but you can change back to your normal self, so don't worry. Your superhero name is... Agent Venom."
Flash was quiet for a long moment, his face cycling through a dozen different emotions. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed with awe.
"Agent Venom," Flash repeated, a huge grin spreading across his face despite the sobering details. "Cool! So cool! That name is awesome!"
"I hope you're still smiling when the time comes," John said seriously, his tone cutting through Flash's enthusiasm like ice water. "Becoming a superhero isn't always something to celebrate."
"Where is this experiment? I want to sign up now!" Flash was completely swept up in the fantasy, ignoring John's warning entirely. His eyes were bright with dreams of glory.
"Stop dreaming," John cut in, his voice sharp enough to make Flash flinch. "The thing you merge with is called a symbiote. Right now, it's still floating around in space. On top of that, symbiotes amplify the host's negative emotions. Without the right treatment, you'd just become a man-eating monster. Besides, you're not ready."
Flash's face fell like a deflated balloon. "No way! Then when can I become a superhero?" Flash asked, deflated.
"Look, you're not a bad person, and I have a rough idea of what your family situation is like," John said, his tone softening as he saw the vulnerability beneath Flash's bravado. The other boy's shoulders sagged slightly, and for a moment he looked less like a school bully and more like a confused kid. "If you're willing to change, I can probably help you become Agent Venom sooner. For starters, be nicer to Peter Parker. He's a legitimate genius. Whether you need help capturing the symbiote or developing a treatment for its side effects, he'll be indispensable. I'm no scientist, so if you alienate him, you'll be on your own."
"Thank you, John! I'll be good to Peter, I swear!" Flash declared, patting his chest enthusiastically. The transformation in his demeanor was immediate and complete. "From now on, he's my brother!" His eyes were shining with the dream of his heroic future, all trace of his earlier aggression replaced by something that looked almost like innocence.