Ethan stood inside the doorway of his newly inherited home, gripping the heavy backpack full of illegal money. The weight of it felt unnatural—not just physically, but morally.
A hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Dropped by an obvious criminal.
Picked up by a kid just trying to survive.
He exhaled slowly.
I can't leave this lying around.
Not with Ned and Peter visiting today.
He scanned the room, eyes settling on the basement door.
Perfect.
The basement was dim but structurally solid, the air filled with that unmistakable old-house smell—dust, wood, and time. He descended carefully, flicking on the small switch near the door. A weak bulb crackled to life.
The space was cluttered with boxes, tools, and folded tarps.
Ethan moved to the far back corner where a large, unused water heater was installed. A thick wooden panel ran behind it. He tapped it—hollow.
Storage compartment? Or just old construction? Either way, good enough.
He pulled the panel aside, revealing a narrow cavity perfect for hiding something discreet. He wrapped the money backpack in an old tarp he found nearby, tucked it deep into the space, and slid the panel back with precision.
Then he dragged an old metal shelf in front of it and stacked three dusty boxes on top.
Unless someone was actively searching…no one would ever find it.
He dusted off his hands.
One crisis handled.
Ethan hurried back upstairs and checked the time.
Ned and Peter would arrive soon.
He moved through the living room, straightening pillows, folding blankets, wiping surfaces again even though he had already done so last night. The house still carried a faint scent of disuse, but it finally felt somewhat… livable.
His phone vibrated.
[Ned: Bro we on the wayyy]
[Peter: Coming too]
Ethan took a deep breath.
Okay. Normal day. Normal friend visit. Don't overthink.
Ding-dong.
Ethan opened the door.
"ETHAN VALE, RESIDENT OF A WHOLE ACTUAL HOUSE!" Ned declared dramatically before even crossing the threshold.
Peter stood beside him, smiling—but something about him was unmistakably off. His posture was balanced, almost too steady. His eyes darted around quickly, processing everything at once. His breaths were sharper, deeper, more controlled.
He looked like someone who had just woken up with a brand new body and didn't know what to do with it.
"Hey, guys. Come in," Ethan said, stepping aside.
Ned practically sprinted into the living room.
Peter followed more slowly, but every footstep had a silent precision that didn't match a normal teenage boy. Ethan noticed it, filed it away, and pretended not to care.
"Broooo!" Ned shouted, spinning in place. "Your HOUSE has a HALLWAY. Do you realize the significance?!"
"It's… a hallway, Ned," Ethan replied.
"A hall. That is way." Ned spread his arms. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of saying 'follow me down the hall'? YEARS."
Peter snorted, but even his laugh sounded weird—slightly too loud, like his senses were amplifying everything.
"Go look around," Ethan said. "Just don't break anything."
Ned gave a salute. "Aye-aye!"
He dashed toward the stairs.
Peter followed, but paused halfway up as he touched the railing. His hand gripped it a bit too firmly. The wood bent microscopically under his fingers.
Ethan saw it.
Peter quickly released it, eyes darting to see if anyone noticed.
"Peter," Ethan called gently.
Peter turned, nerves flickering in his expression. "Uh—yeah?"
"You okay? Ned said you were sick yesterday."
Peter hesitated. "I… I feel better now. Way better. Too… energetic? Like I drank ten Red Bulls."
"That's worrying," Ethan said, amused.
Peter gave a small laugh—but it ended abruptly as Ned yelled from upstairs:
"ETHAN, YOU HAVE A BASEMENT. A BASEMENT. BRO. THIS IS A GAMER'S PARADISE."
Ethan sighed. "I know."
Peter shook his head with a tiny smile and followed Ned upstairs.
Ethan leaned against the wall, observing quietly.
Every movement Peter made was controlled—but with a tension underneath. A kind of hyper-awareness. A buzzing energy.
His transformation was nearly complete.
Ten minutes later, the two descended.
Ned was breathless from excitement.
"Dude—bro—this place is amazing. We need a sleepover here. Pizza. Games. Movie marathon."
Peter sat more carefully, though even sitting seemed to require conscious effort from him.
"It's nice," Peter said. "Really nice, Ethan."
Ethan nodded, then shifted casually to the topic he needed.
"Hey, Ned… you know any place where I could get a computer? A second-hand one. Cheap but reliable."
Ned blinked. "Oh! Yeah! Mr. Keller's shop near Queens Boulevard. Best deals. Also gives discounts if you bring old parts."
Peter nodded. "He's trustworthy. Doesn't sell junk."
Ethan leaned back. "Perfect. I need one for some personal projects."
Ned's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What kind of projects?"
"Science homework," Ethan replied with a perfectly straight face.
"LIES," Ned declared.
Peter snorted.
Ethan continued, "We can go tomorrow if you guys are free."
"Tomorrow morning," Ned confirmed immediately. "BRO TRIP."
Peter nodded. "Sounds good."
Ethan studied him again—subtle tremors in Peter's fingertips, a twitch in his jaw, the heightened breathing.He was trying hard to act normal.
Soon, he wouldn't be able to.
But for now…they were just three friends.
Talking, laughing, planning their next weekend trip.
A temporary peace.
The last normal moment before destiny kicked the door down.
The living room felt warm and alive with chatter, Ned rambling about movies while Ethan sorted through a box of old books. But Peter…Peter looked like he was trying to survive a hurricane inside his skull.
It started small—barely noticeable.
Peter blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if clearing dizziness. Ethan glanced over. Peter pretended nothing happened, breathing through his nose.
Then Ned tossed a soda can toward Peter without warning.
"Catch!"
Peter didn't even look.He just—moved.His hand snapped up like a whip, grabbing the can mid-air.
Ned froze.Ethan paused.Peter stared at the soda, eyes wide.
"Uh…" Ned blinked. "That was… fast."
Peter forced a laugh that came out wrong. "Reflexes?" he said awkwardly.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Peter, you reacted before you even turned your head."
Peter swallowed. "Lucky angle?"
Ethan didn't push. He simply let the moment pass.
But Peter was unraveling.
A moment later, Peter suddenly jerked his head to the right—just before Ned accidentally knocked over a lamp behind him.
Ned jumped. "Whoa—how'd you know?!"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "I—I didn't know, I just—heard it? Maybe?"
Ethan watched him carefully.
Peter wasn't lying.At this stage, his spider-sense wasn't a whisper—it was static, sparks, sudden flashes of stimulus he couldn't understand.
Peter winced suddenly, pressing a hand against his forehead.
"You okay?" Ethan asked casually.
"Yeah—yeah, just a headache." Peter forced a smile. "Maybe that fever from yesterday isn't fully gone."
Ned leaned forward with concern. "Dude, seriously, if you're sick you should rest."
Peter shook his head. "I'm fine. It's just… things are loud today."
"Loud?" Ethan asked.
Peter tried to explain but couldn't find words.
"It's like—I can hear things I shouldn't. Like… the fridge humming. Your clock ticking upstairs. The cars three streets away." He looked around nervously. "It feels like everything's happening at once."
Ned stared at him. "Bro, what are you, Superman?"
Peter held his head again, sweat forming at his hairline. His vision darted, unfocused. "No, no, I—I just need some water."
Ethan stood. "Kitchen's this way."
Peter followed him in, stumbling slightly—not from weakness, but from too much strength fighting against balance.
When they reached the kitchen, Peter leaned on the counter, breathing heavily.
"Ethan," he whispered. "Something's wrong with me."
Ethan kept his voice even. "What do you feel?"
Peter hesitated. "Everything. Like my skin is buzzing. My muscles feel… tight? Electric. And every sound feels like it's right next to me. I don't know how to describe it."
He looked scared.
Really scared.
Ethan filled a glass of water and placed it in Peter's trembling hands.
"Drink. Calm down."
Peter nodded and gulped the water. Slowly, his breathing steadied.
"Thanks," Peter whispered.
Ethan gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Probably just the fever lingering. Rest today. You'll feel better tomorrow."
Peter nodded weakly but wasn't convinced. "I hope so…"
When they walked back, Ned was sprawled across the couch, watching a cooking show.
"YOOO, guys—did you know sharks can smell a drop of blood from—"He stopped when he saw Peter's pale face."…you look like death, dude."
Peter forced a weak grin. "Just tired."
Ned shrugged. "Okay, but if you faint on Ethan's floor, I'm drawing a mustache on you."
Ethan laughed softly. Ned's ridiculousness seemed to ease Peter's tension a little.
They hung out a bit longer, but Peter was restless—fidgeting, reacting to noises, rubbing his hands together as if his skin itched.
Eventually he stood up.
"I think I should go home," he said quietly. "Aunt May's probably worried."
Ned got up too. "I'll come with you."
They said their goodbyes at the door. Peter gave Ethan a tired but grateful nod.
"Thanks for today," he said. "Really."
"Anytime," Ethan replied.
The door closed behind them.
Silence fell over the house.
Ethan exhaled deeply.
Peter was changing faster than he expected.The spider bite was no joke.
But Ethan wasn't worried.
He wasn't panicking.
He wasn't shocked.
He was preparing.
Peter Parker's transformation has begun.
Now mine continues.
Ethan walked upstairs toward his new room—toward the future he was building quietly in the shadows.
And tomorrow, step by step…he'd build the tools he needed for the world that was coming.