A/N: NOT MY ORIGINAL WORK. I'M ONLY UPLOADING THIS HERE SO I CAN LISTEN TO IT MYSELF. IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN ALONG WITH ME, FEEL FREE.
YES, SOME ASSHOLE IS SELLING THIS FOR HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS EVEN THOUGH IT'S FREE FANFICTION. I'M NOT GOING TO NAME THE FANFIC—WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?
IF YOU REALLY WANT THE FULL THING, GO FIND IT LIKE I DID, AFTER A WHOLE LOT OF FRUSTRATION.
AND YES, THE NAME WILL MAKE SENSE AFTER A FEW CHAPTERS—AND WHY NAME IT LIKE THIS? IF YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW.
***Each Chapter on average is about 3.5K***
Chapter 1: A New Life
The pain in my hand was immense, like a hot iron pressed against my
skin. Whatever it was burrowed through my skin and into the veins in my
hand. I grunted, trying to hold still, but a roar of pain tore itself
out of me.
"Argh!"
And then, suddenly, I was somewhere else.
The floor was pristine marble, reflecting my face back at me. My skin
was pale, my hair brown, and I was wearing the biggest pair of circular
glasses I had ever seen in my life.
"Mr. Parker, are you okay?!" someone called out.
I looked down. The face staring back at me mirrored my own looks. 'Was
that me?' I asked myself, unbelievingly. My hand stung. I looked down
and saw it swelling to twice its size, two bright red bite marks near my
knuckles.
"Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker?!" someone shook me.
I blinked and looked up to find a crowd of students staring at me like a
caged exotic animal. Right in front of me stood a woman who looked to be
around fifty, black hair greying at the sides.
A name popped into my head. 'Mrs. Sonada.' She was a biology teacher—my
biology teacher. I blinked. 'That's not right. I've never met her before
in my life.'
"Mr. Parker!" Mrs. Sonada called out again. "Are you okay?"
I blinked. "I—yeah, I am," I responded on reflex. Suddenly a sharp pain
lanced through my hand and I flinched.
"That looks bad. We should get that checked out," she whispered, then
turned to the rest of the class. "Alright, class—we're cutting it short!
Everyone grab your buddy and walk out to the parking lot!"
"Alright! Guess puny Parker was good for something after all!" a tall
blond teenager yelled out to his friends.
I looked around. I was in a lab of some kind. People in lab coats moved
between stations, and monitors showed DNA sequences of human cells being
manipulated—numbers running through them that I somehow understood,
every single one.
"Come, Peter. I'll get you looked at," Mrs. Sonada whispered as she
guided me out.
Outside, a large yellow school bus waited. We climbed on and she sat me
in the front. I could feel a fever creeping in, sweat pouring down my
brow. And slowly, darkness swallowed me.
I remembered flashes. Getting off the bus and onto a hospital gurney. A
doctor looking me over before informing me I was suffering from an
allergic reaction. He told me to rest for a week, and I managed to grunt
in understanding.
I remembered someone picking me up. His face was aged, his hair white
and cut short. But the moment I saw him, I knew he loved me. He drove
out of the city to a quiet suburban neighbourhood and carried me into a
humble-looking house that filled me with warmth the instant I stepped
through the door.
I was put on a bed that had been made up. The moment my head hit the
pillow, my eyes shut and I slept.
Memories upon memories flooded in. I could recall so many events that
weren't a part of my life—names, faces, mathematical formulae so
advanced I knew I shouldn't have been able to think them up. But somehow
I did.
A school. A kid being bullied. A house, and two relatives raising him
with nothing but love and kindness. A kid growing up to be a genius
without equal, but hiding his own brilliance out of fear of being
rejected. And then, finally, a name.
Peter Benjamin Parker.
And with a gasp, I woke up.
I jumped in shock and found myself shooting towards the ceiling. Acting
on instinct, my body twisted—arms and feet slamming against it. There
was a jerking motion, and instead of falling back down, I stuck. I hung
there, looking at the world upside down.
I was panting. I could feel my body cool down. I looked at my arms and
feet, plastered to the ceiling. I pulled one hand back and pieces of the
plaster came peeling off, still stuck to my fingertips. I was horrified.
I wanted to let go, and suddenly I was falling.
My body twisted again and I stuck the landing on the mattress. I looked
down at my hands. I could feel something there—I focused on the swirls
on my fingertips, and between the lines were small, razor-sharp
protrusions curved inward.
"Holy shit," I gasped, and looked around. I found a book with the name
'Peter B. Parker' on the cover. I looked in the mirror and sure enough,
a frail, skinny teenage boy with brown hair and pale skin stared back at
me.
"I'm Spider-Man," I whispered.
'What the fuck?!'
A few days later:
It took me a full day to come to terms with what had happened. I
pretended to still be sick—every time Aunt May or Uncle Ben checked on
me, I groaned and rolled over. Those names were strange to say, but they
fit.
I spent that day trying to piece together how I'd ended up here. I was
alive and well, but in another body, another life. I was Peter Parker
now, and somehow I had all his memories and his genius mind.
It was almost like I was Doc Ock and had taken over Peter's mind in some
bid to become the 'Superior Spider-Man.' Though last I checked, I wasn't
a fucking supervillain.
I dug through Peter's memories. The spider bite had only just
happened—that was the pain I'd felt when I arrived. I tried to figure
out what kind of world I was living in. Classic Spider-Man? Ultimate?
One of the movie versions? So far I had nothing concrete. But I did find
out that Tony Stark had publicly revealed himself as Iron Man, which
meant there was a good chance I was living in some version of the Marvel
movie universe.
Peter didn't have many friends. Even Harry Osborn was more of a study
partner than an actual friend. No Gwen Stacy. No Mary Jane. No one. He
was, frankly, a very lonely kid.
I learned that Peter was smart—extremely smart. Frighteningly so. Given
enough time and motivation, he could have become the next Doctor Doom.
But he hid most of his intelligence because he was terrified of being an
outcast, more than he already was.
The feeling of having so much more processing power was startling. My
brain was functioning at a pace I wasn't used to, but at the same time I
had no trouble keeping up. It was, after all, my brain now.
I did wonder how this had happened. If the Marvel universe was real, and
my world was one where they existed only as comic book characters, did
that mean all those cosmic beings were real too? Had one of them done
this to me? Put me in Peter's body just to see what would happen?
I sighed and opened the window, sitting on the sill as I watched the sun
rise on my second day of 'bed rest.'
I took a deep breath and looked out at the world around me. I was at an
impasse. Should Spider-Man live? That was the question.
Being Spider-Man was something Peter had done out of guilt for getting
his uncle killed. But that wasn't going to happen here. I wasn't going
to let Uncle Ben die—that would be too much of a weight on my
conscience. So that option was off the table.
I also didn't like the fact that being a hero had basically ruined
Peter's life in so many ways. Romantically, socially—even his superhero
career was haunted by J. Jonah Jameson and the Bugle painting him as a
menace.
And to be fair, I wasn't a hero. Why should I risk my life for
strangers? I was a genius. Maybe I should just invent things to help
people. I could be the next Reed Richards—save more lives as Peter
Parker the inventor than I ever could as Spider-Man.
With my mind made up, I headed out of my room. I suppose it was my room
now, since I was Peter Parker. Just who the hell had done this to me?
I went downstairs and found Aunt May cooking breakfast, Uncle Ben
already up and getting ready for work.
"Good morning," I said.
Aunt May looked up and smiled. "Peter! So good to see you up and moving
about. How do you feel, dear?"
"Better," I shrugged, sitting down at the dining table. May placed a
stack of pancakes in front of me. I grabbed one, took a bite, and
stopped chewing. "Ah… I don't mean to complain, but this pancake is
dead."
"That's because it's a rye pancake," May exclaimed with a grin. "I found
the recipe online! It's supposed to help flush out any unhealthy foreign
substances from your body. So eat up!"
I grumbled. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not everything on the internet
is true?"
Ben chuckled. "He has you there, May."
"Oh, hush, you two. Eat up, Peter—I want you at full strength today!"
I shrugged and dug in. "So what's so special about today?"
"Well, you see—Anna Watson's niece is coming over today. The poor dear
had to move because of some family trouble. She's going to be staying
with Anna, and we were wondering if you'd talk to her. Help her settle
in."
My mouth froze mid-bite. I turned to May with wide eyes. "You're
kidding."
"Peter, she's a perfectly fine girl. A little shy, but—"
"No!" I yelled, startling them both. I caught myself and added quickly,
"I mean—I would love to! I feel great! Better than great, actually! When
is she coming?"
"Around noon, I think," May replied, unused to my enthusiasm. "Are you
sure, Peter? I don't want you to stress yourself."
"No stress, Aunt May. It would be my pleasure." I bit into the pancake
and immediately regretted it. "This tastes like cardboard."
Ben laughed heartily as May glared at me. Uncle Ben left for work soon
after breakfast, so I decided to take a shower and get ready.
I put on Peter's best clothes—a t-shirt under an open plaid shirt and
jeans. It wasn't fancy, but it was the least nerdy thing he owned. I was
definitely going to have to overhaul his wardrobe. I also discovered I
didn't need glasses. No surprise there. At least now I wouldn't look
like a total nerd.
I was ready by ten, and I was genuinely excited. This was Mary Jane
Watson—the girl of Peter's dreams. The woman he'd one day marry. Sure,
there was that whole retcon mess, but forget that.
I honestly didn't know why I was so excited. Maybe it was because I was
about to meet a pretty girl. Maybe it was because I wanted to see Mary
Jane in the flesh. I wasn't going to be Spider-Man—would she still like
me? Did I even want her to?
What was I saying? Of course I did.
But it was only ten. I still had two hours to kill. So I sat down on the
couch and turned on the TV, flipping channels until I landed on the
news.
The anchor spoke: "Billionaire Tony Stark, also known as the superhero
Iron Man, was seen in Flushing Meadows in Queens today, working on what
many assume to be a new expo. Not much is known about the event, but
on-scene reporters and bystanders have snapped several photos and posted
them online—including pictures of Mr. Stark in his signature Iron Man
suit, helping construct various attractions. Though we don't yet know
what this expo will bring, many assume it will announce the launch of
his suits for public commercialisation."
My eyes went wide. The Stark Expo. The beginning of Iron Man 2. So I was
in the Marvel Cinematic Universe after all.
I kept listening as the anchor went on about Stark's tech and the
government's growing unease. I knew there was nothing to worry
about—Tony was an okay enough guy. But I understood why they were
scared. They didn't know that aliens were real, and that they'd need
heroes like him.
This also meant I was in the MCU, and I wasn't a kid. If Sony hadn't
hoarded the rights to Spider-Man, Spidey would have been introduced much
sooner. I guess I now lived in a world like that.
I whiled away the two hours like that, learning more about the world I'd
landed in. And soon enough, the clock struck twelve.
May arrived just in time, dressed in her Sunday best. She nodded at me
approvingly. "I'm glad you dressed up, Peter. I just know you'll make a
great impression."
I blushed and followed her out. We crossed the road and knocked on the
door of the house directly across from us. A few moments later, Anna
Watson—a kind older lady with grey hair and a warm smile—welcomed us.
"Ah, Peter! So nice to see you! I heard about your little accident—are
you sure you're alright to be up and about?"
I smirked. "I'll be fine. It was just a spider bite."
"Oh, that's my Peter," May smiled. "When I told him about Mary Jane, he
was so excited. Practically jumped at the chance!"
A blush crept across my face as I glared at May. "Aunt May! Stop!" The
old lady just giggled.
"Well, come on in," Anna invited us inside. The place was cosy—pretty
pictures on the walls, antique furniture, a TV in the corner.
Just then a girl with wet hair came rushing down the stairs two at a
time, wearing green shorts and a purple tank top, holding a hair dryer.
"Aunt Anna, the damn thing's broken again—"
She stopped dead when she saw she wasn't alone. I looked at her, and her
eyes landed on me, widening. They were so green. Her wet red hair clung
to her scalp, making her look even more striking.
I couldn't help it. The timing was perfect. I whistled and smiled.
"Damn. Looks like I just hit the jackpot."
Her face turned red. May and Anna exchanged surprised glances—clearly
they'd never thought Peter had it in him. I chuckled at the silence.
"So—you're Mary Jane?"
The girl nodded. "Y-yeah. Hi."
I nodded and looked at the hair dryer. "Not working?"
"Yeah, it just kind of stopped," she said slowly.
I held out my hand and she passed it over. I took a look and, using
Peter's remarkable knowledge of mechanics, spotted the problem
instantly. "The motor's fried. I can probably fix it for you, Ms.
Watson—shouldn't be too hard."
"That would be lovely, thank you, Peter," Anna nodded, then turned to
MJ. "Mary Jane, maybe it's time you put on something a little more…
decent."
"Right," the redhead nodded quickly, turning and heading back upstairs.
She glanced back at me one last time. She was looking for something—I
could tell. I just smiled.
When she disappeared behind her door, I turned to Anna and May. "I'll
run to the hardware store and grab the parts to fix it. Be back soon."
"Why don't you wait for Mary Jane to get ready, Peter? Maybe you two
could go together," May suggested, oh so subtly.
I shrugged. "Sure. No problem."
"Oh, look at you—acting so innocent," Anna giggled. "Didn't I tell you
they'd hit it off, May?" I tuned the two old women out as they gossiped
about me and MJ.
It took a little while, but soon the redhead came back down—this time in
jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers. I looked her over and smiled. "I liked
the other outfit better."
"Peter!" May gasped. "That is no way to speak to a lady! I raised you
better than that!"
I checked Peter's memories. She was right—she had. I turned to MJ and
bowed with exaggerated formality. "I am so sorry, my lady. My actions
have been terribly uncouth. I beg a thousand pardons for my rash
behaviour!"
Mary Jane chuckled. "Your Shakespeare needs a little work there, Tiger."
"Shakespeare? I was doing my best fancy-pants impression."
"That is Shakespeare."
"Ah. So the voice has a name." She laughed. Good. She liked me.
Anna gave us some cash and sent us out with instructions to grab lunch
after fixing the dryer. And just like that, MJ and I were walking side
by side.
"So what do I call you?" I asked as soon as we stepped out.
"Hmm?"
"Mary Jane—seems like a mouthful," I shrugged. "Do you have a nickname?"
Mary Jane shrugged. "Most people call me MJ."
"Hmm. Cool, but not very creative. How about Red?"
"Red? Really? And you say MJ isn't creative enough."
I shrugged. "I'm sure we'll figure something out. I'm Peter, by the way.
Peter Parker."
"Oh, I know. My aunt hasn't stopped talking about you. I figured she
must have some sort of crush," she teased.
"Hmm… tempting. She is a MILF. Totally my type," I teased back.
MJ's eyes went wide. "What?"
"Kidding," I chuckled. "I actually like redheads." Mary Jane blushed.
"So, where are you from, MJ?" We talked the whole way to the hardware
store, a few streets over. She told me she was joining my school on
Monday—I gave her a few tips but avoided topics like friends, since
Peter didn't really have any.
We walked a little further to find a restaurant for lunch. We sat down
and ate. I threw out a few jokes—she laughed. She teased me—I blushed.
It was a great first outing. Well… maybe not a date. Not yet.
We headed back to her place and found our aunts still chatting on the
sofa. I sat at the dining room table with the broken hair dryer and
started taking it apart with a screwdriver Anna had lying around.
As I worked, MJ watched, whistling as my hands moved over the machine.
"You're pretty good at this, huh?"
I smiled. "Very good. I'm sort of a nerd, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Believe me—I know," I looked confused. She clarified: "No one talks
about Star Wars that much and isn't a nerd." I blushed. She was right.
"So is this what you want to do when you grow up?" MJ asked as I
replaced the motor.
"A handyman? No. My ambitions are a little higher," I smiled.
"Like what?"
"Like… honestly, I don't know. I know I'm smart, and I could probably do
a lot of good. But I don't know what that looks like yet."
MJ smiled. "Maybe you should build yourself a suit of armour and fly
around saving the world."
"Nah, the suits are more Tony Stark's thing," I chuckled. "Besides,
being a hero is dangerous, and the pay is horrible."
"Heroes don't do it for thanks, you know. They do it because they're
heroes."
I leaned back and sighed. "Is it a bad thing that I'm not that
selfless?"
MJ looked concerned. "What? No—I just meant—"
"I know what you meant. I get it. It's just… why do they have to be
heroes? Can't they just be normal?"
MJ studied me for a moment. Seeing that I wasn't angry, just genuinely
curious, she thought about it. "Well… maybe because if they don't… who
will?"
"The po—" I stopped myself. The police? Yeah, right. They could barely
handle street crime, let alone aliens from outer space. Heroes needed to
exist. But maybe not Spider-Man.
I sighed. "Yeah… you're right."
I did manage to fix the damn blow dryer, much to Anna's gratitude. MJ
and I talked for a while longer—mostly about school and her life before
the move. We talked about superheroes too, though she quickly picked up
that it was a touchy subject for me, even if she didn't know why.
We exchanged numbers before I left, and I promised to see her again the
next day. Judging by the smile on her face, she liked that idea.
That night, though, I found myself in the basement—in the small lab
Peter had set up for himself. It was cluttered with chemicals and
half-finished gadgets. I sat down and opened the junk drawer, pulling
out two broken watches with metallic straps.
I looked them over and got to work.
The formula for what I wanted to make was difficult. It took all my
brainpower just to think through the chemical chain needed to produce
webs. The compound would react when exposed to air and solidify into a
sticky, elastic, nearly unbreakable structure. The problem was that I'd
be building it from scratch.
It wasn't finished in one night, but I made progress. The next day I
spent with MJ—helped her catch up on homework, taught her some basic
chemistry. We got distracted a lot, talking about books and TV shows,
but that gave me a reason to come back the next day to finish our
lessons.
The nights I spent in my basement lab, working on the web formula. It
was a pain in the ass. I nearly caused a small explosion when I
accidentally mixed the wrong chemicals—luckily I caught it before there
was a chain reaction, or else Peter—well, me—would have been in serious
trouble.
I was on doctor's orders to stay home all week, so I took full advantage
of that. Every day I alternated between spending time with MJ and
working on the formula, making progress with both. MJ and I even started
chatting at night.