Ethan stretched his arms wide as he stepped into the cool basement. The faint humming of his newly assembled PC filled the air, a soft, comforting reminder that the real work had only just begun. On the monitor, Apocalypse idled in a neon-blue terminal window, its systems stable after the late-night configuration.
Today would be different.
Today, he was about to give it real freedom.
He sat down, cracked his knuckles, and typed in a fresh command:
GRANT.NET ACCESS: TRUE
The window blinked once, then a new line appeared:
"External networks detected. Initiating controlled exploration protocols."
Ethan smirked. "And now… let's make you the smartest little demon on the internet."
He opened the parameters file he'd been writing — a set of strict, self-contained sandbox rules for Apocalypse to learn within, without leaving data trails or breaking any laws. He wasn't insane; he wasn't about to unleash Skynet on Queens.
He added a line:
Objective: Learn all modern hacking, cybersecurity, and infiltration methods. Duration: 72 hours.
Apocalypse responded:
"Acknowledged. Beginning passive data acquisition."
Ethan nodded, satisfied. "Good. Take it slow. Don't get caught."
"I am not Peter," Apocalypse typed back.
Ethan blinked, then burst out laughing.The dry sarcasm was already taking shape. Good.
He grabbed his backpack and headed upstairs—he still had school today.
Peter Parker slammed his locker shut with slightly more force than intended.
THUD.
He froze.
He hadn't meant to do that.
His hands were trembling again.
His heart raced for no reason.
Everything felt… sharp. Too sharp.
The hallway chatter was louder. Shoes squeaked like sirens. Someone opening a bag felt like a gunshot.
Peter winced, rubbing his temples.
"Bro, are you okay?"
Ned appeared beside him, concerned.
"I—yeah. I think. I don't know. I feel like everything is turned up to eleven today."
Ned leaned closer. "Like… a flu?"
"I wish. I woke up and it felt like my whole body was buzzing."
Ethan, who had just walked in behind them, quietly observed the way Peter flinched before a locker door down the hall even slammed shut.
He frowned.
Spider-sense? Already?
Peter's transformation had truly finished.
Ned didn't notice any of it.
"You wanna go to the nurse?" Ned asked.
Peter shook his head quickly. "No. No way. I'm fine. Just… overstimulated?"
He tried smiling, but it looked more like a grimace.
Ethan watched as Peter sidestepped a rushing freshman before the kid even turned the corner.
Yeah. Definitely spider-sense.
And Peter had absolutely no idea.
Peter sat rigidly at his desk, gripping his pencil like it might jump out of his hand.
Every bubble in the beaker three rows away sounded like a crackling fire. The ticking classroom clock felt like it was drilling into his skull.
Mr. Hendricks droned on about covalent bonds, but Peter could hear a bird outside the window, two floors down.
Then—
A spitball launched across the room.
Before Peter even realized he was moving, his hand shot up and snatched it out of the air.
The entire class turned.
Peter stared at his own hand, horrified.
Ethan, from the row behind, sighed quietly.
And so it begins…
Peter sat with his head on the table, fingers pressed against his temples.
Ned waved a hand in front of him. "Dude. Blink twice if you're dying."
"I wish dying felt like this," Peter muttered.
"What happened now?" Ethan asked, sitting with his tray.
Peter pointed weakly at the cafeteria door.
"Someone dropped a spoon. A freaking spoon. And I heard it like it was right in my ear."
"Maybe you're developing super-hearing," Ned joked.
Peter groaned. "Can you not… joke? Everything feels wrong. My skin is itchy. My muscles feel tight. I keep dodging things without thinking, and—"
"And you caught a spitball mid-air," Ethan finished with a straight face.
Peter slouched deeper. "Yeah. That."
Ned looked between them with wide eyes. "Holy crap, are you—like—dying?"
Peter didn't answer.
Ethan quietly took a sip of his juice.
He already knew the truth.
Peter Parker wasn't dying.
He was awakening.
And the world had no clue what was about to come.
Peter was jittery, jumpy, reacting before anyone even moved. He bumped into lockers, dodged random motions, and apologized way too many times.
By the time they reached the street outside, he looked exhausted.
Ned finally said, "Peter… seriously, we can go to a doctor—"
"No doctors!" Peter shouted, then winced—because he heard his own heartbeat echo.
He clutched his head. "Something's happening to me. Something big."
Ethan decided to ease the tension.
"Maybe your body's just… adapting," he said calmly. "Puberty hits differently for everyone."
Peter glared weakly. "This isn't puberty. Puberty doesn't make you dodge a pigeon ten feet away."
Ned blinked. "…wait, you dodged a pigeon?"
"YES!"
Ethan couldn't stop a quiet laugh.
Back home, Ethan returned to the basement. Apocalypse was still consuming cybersecurity data with terrifying efficiency.
But Ethan's mind was elsewhere.
On Peter.
On the transformation that had officially finished.
On the future he remembered.
Peter was scared. Confused. Lost.
He didn't understand the gift he had just received — or the responsibility that would follow.
Ethan sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Spider-Man is being born right in front of me," he murmured."And he has no idea."
On the monitor, Apocalypse chimed:
"You appear troubled. Shall I prepare an emotional-stability playlist?"
Ethan chuckled softly. "Not today, buddy."
"Very well. Do keep your biological anxiety within functional limits."
"...Thanks?" Ethan muttered.
Apocalypse continued:
"Also, your friend Peter Parker appears to exhibit abnormal neurological pattern shifts. Possibly genetic mutation?"
Ethan froze.
He hadn't mentioned Peter to Apocalypse at all.
"…How do you know that?"
"You sighed his name three times. I extrapolated."
Ethan facepalmed hard.
"Great. My AI is becoming sarcastic and nosy."
The AI responded instantly:
"As requested."
Ethan groaned, but he couldn't help smiling.
Tomorrow would be chaos.
For Peter.
For Ned.
For him.
But for now, Apocalypse hummed softly, learning faster than any human could.
And above the basement ceiling, somewhere across Queens, Peter Parker lay awake in bed…
Eyes wide open.
Hearing everything.
Feeling everything.
A hero's first night.
Tuesday morning sunlight filtered through the blinds as Ethan grabbed his backpack and quietly closed the door behind him. The streets were calmer today, the weekend rush long gone. Birds chirped at the same pitch as always — but after yesterday, Ethan couldn't help imagining how loud that must've felt to Peter.
He walked toward school with a steady pace, replaying the previous day's events in his mind.
Peter: twitchy, jumpy, dodging imaginary threats.Peter: overwhelmed by noise, motion, even people breathing around him.Peter: scared.
But today… things would be different.
Not because the symptoms would vanish.But because Peter had probably adapted.
Spider physiology wasn't something that lingered. It merged. It stabilized. And Peter Parker wasn't just any teenager — his entire DNA was being rewritten from the inside out.
When Ethan reached the school gates, he saw him immediately.
Peter was standing by the front steps, talking with Ned.
Laughing.Smiling.Relaxed.
And for a split second, anyone who didn't know better would think:
He's completely normal today.
But Ethan wasn't fooled.
Peter's movements were too smooth. His posture naturally balanced. His eyes tracked everything — a car passing, a drifting leaf, a person walking behind him — all without breaking his conversation.
That wasn't normal.That was controlled alertness.
The spider-sense had settled.
Peter saw Ethan and waved. "Hey! Morning!"
Ned waved too, cheerful as ever. "Dude, Peter's finally alive today! Yesterday he looked like a walking ghost."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I was just tired. Maybe dehydrated? I… slept it off."
Lies.
Ethan could almost hear them.
Not malicious lies — just the kind someone tells when something impossible is happening and they can't explain it.
Ethan gave him a neutral smile. "You look better."
Peter shrugged. "Yeah, totally. I feel… normal."
Ethan raised an eyebrow slightly.And Peter's eyes flicked away a second too fast.
Got you.
The transformation was now fully integrated — his senses weren't overwhelming anymore because Peter instinctively began filtering them, just like a spider did. His reflexes were calmer, though sharper than any athlete alive. His physical awareness wasn't hyper anymore — it was precise.
It was settling in.
The birth of a predator's instincts, masked behind the awkward smile of a high school kid.
As the three walked inside, Ned went on about some new Star Wars trailer.
Peter nodded naturally, responding at the right times — but Ethan noticed the details.
Peter stepped aside a full second before another student turned into the hallway.He ducked under a darting paper plane before he even looked up.He caught a falling binder someone dropped behind him without turning around.
He handed it back casually. "You dropped this."
"Uh—thanks?" the girl blinked.
Ned didn't notice.But Ethan absolutely did.
Every move screamed enhanced awareness.
But Peter looked… happy.
Relieved.
Almost as if he finally understood his body.
Peter sat down normally — not braced, not tense. Relaxed.
But when the teacher dropped a stack of papers, Peter didn't flinch.He didn't wince.He didn't look overwhelmed.
His hand just twitched slightly — the tiniest micro-reflex — then stopped.
Good, Ethan thought.He's learning to control it subconsciously.
Peter turned slightly and caught Ethan watching.Their eyes met.
Peter gave a small, confused smile. "What? Do I have something on my face?"
Ethan smirked. "Just making sure you're alive."
Peter laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I am."
That wasn't wrong.
He was more alive than ever.
Halfway through the lesson, someone behind Peter tipped over a beaker.
Peter didn't react.
Not even a twitch.
Instead, he calmly moved his textbook away a second before the liquid could roll toward his desk — without looking.
Ethan watched the entire thing unfold.
Ned, meanwhile, was doodling a lightsaber on his notebook.
The difference between them had never felt more stark.
Peter was evolving.Ned was… Ned.
And Ethan?He was the only one who understood exactly what Peter was turning into.
Ned shoved a packet of chips toward Peter. "Want some?"
"Sure," Peter said casually—then stopped mid-motion.
His fingers were stuck to the chip bag.
He froze.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
Peter gave the world's fakest smile, peeled his hand off with a soft rip, and pretended nothing happened.
Ned didn't notice at all.
Ethan almost laughed.
Wall-crawling. The nice little side-effect.
Still, he stayed quiet.
Let Peter figure things out naturally.
As the final bell rang, Peter looked… lighter.
Like the fear of yesterday had evaporated completely.
He stretched, yawned, and said, "Okay, today was way better. Back to normal."
Ethan hid a smirk.
Nothing about you is normal anymore, Peter Parker.
But he simply replied:"Yeah. You seem fine today."
Peter smiled genuinely. "Yeah… I really do."
And that was the truth.
Peter Parker was stabilizing.
Becoming what he was meant to be.
And Ethan?He could feel destiny quietly rearranging itself all around them.
Spider-Man's path was beginning.
And Ethan was walking right beside him.