The next week and a half was a strange one for me. I was now officially a part of the Baxter Foundation, and I spent most of my time there, only coming home late at night. May and Ben didn't approve of it at first, but once they found out the work I was doing could save lives, they begrudgingly understood.
In reality, I actually spent an hour or so with the FF before heading out on patrol as Spider-Man. Sue understood, after all — that was part of the deal. This way I got to be both a hero and a scientist. Ha. And to think Peter always said this was hard.
I still remember the first day I came to the Baxter Building as Peter Parker and not Spider-Man. I had to fight through the giant crowd gathered outside and into the lobby. Even then the guards wouldn't let me through, so Johnny had to personally come down and clear me.
I was fairly certain my picture was going to end up on the front page the next day — 'Mysterious Boy Enters Baxter Building?!' — and I could only hope they hadn't gotten a good enough shot.
"So Peter, how did your aunt and uncle take it?" Johnny asked.
I shrugged. "About as well as you'd expect. I think they're still a little annoyed that I lied to them, but the fact I got a job here seems to make it okay."
"Good man. Hey, maybe one day you should come clean to them — tell them who you really are?" He led me through the elevator doors and into a large hallway.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen. They freak out if I'm late coming home from a friend's place. Can you imagine what they'd do if they found out I was Spider-Man?"
Johnny shrugged. "If you think so." He stopped before a door and pressed his hand against the palm scanner next to it. "Welcome to your new home."
My eyes went wide. "Woah." I blinked as I looked around the large, nearly empty room. There was a wide monitor and computer system up against one wall, a table with a few tools on it, but other than that it was completely bare. "This is so cool!"
Johnny grinned. "I thought you'd like it. Anyway, make yourself at home. My lab is three doors down and Sue's is right across from yours. Reed's is further down the hall, but — ah — maybe don't go in there without permission. The guy's particular about personal space."
I nodded as I set my bag on the chair and pulled out my notes. "This is great, Johnny. I've got a lot of things I want to test. Hey, do you think you can help me out?"
Johnny blinked. "Me? What do you mean?"
"Last night I came up with a theory about how your powers work. I want to test it," I explained as I looked around the lab — and it still felt strange saying that — and found a Geiger counter. It was a complex model with customizable settings. I'd need to modify its internal workings, though, to detect the energy signatures I was after.
"Wait, what? You think you know how my powers work? That's insane, man — even Reed can't figure that out!"
I shrugged. "It's only a theory. Relax." I began working on the Geiger counter, adding a thin filament of nickel to it. The people from my Earth had a theory: that Johnny's powers — and those of the rest of the FF — were dimensional energies, and that their accident had given them the ability to control that energy. Given that this looked to be the Ultimate FF, who had gained their powers through teleportation, that seemed to hold up.
If I recalled correctly, Johnny's powers had once been supercharged by a place called the Negative Zone, causing his flames to grow so intense he couldn't switch them off. But that was theory, and now I had a chance to test it.
I pointed the meter at Johnny. "Go flames."
"It's called Flame on," Johnny grumbled as he ignited, covering himself in fire.
I watched the Geiger counter's reading climb, and I smiled. "Perfecto."
"So? What did you find out?" Johnny asked, switching off his flames.
"I think your powers are drawing from another dimension. Your body is serving as a kind of conduit — not a portal exactly, more like a reverse sponge."
"Wait, how could you possibly know that? What did you do to the Geiger counter?"
"I added a layer of nickel," I said, pointing to the patch. "It measured the heat you gave off. And the counter detected your fire, which radiates outward — but not in harmful amounts. You're not absorbing anything from the surrounding air, so whatever's fuelling it must be coming from inside you. When it reacts with our atmosphere, it ignites. You're not literally a fireball, Johnny — you're essentially leaking white phosphorus-like radiation."
Johnny stared at me. "Woah. That's — that's amazing. Holy shit, Peter, that was so cool! Here, this is Reed's email. Send your theory to him — I'm sure he'd love to hear it!"
I nodded and did exactly that. Honestly, Peter's mind was something else. I had the theory, but Peter's raw intelligence made it possible.
After that I met Reed, Ben, and Sue for dinner. We talked about the projects I'd be working on and how I could best contribute. Reed looked over my findings and was clearly impressed, though I detected a faint undercurrent of distrust in his tone that honestly confused me.
As the week went on, the legend of Spider-Man only grew. Thanks to my schedule at the Baxter Building, I was able to go out on patrol most nights. I must have stopped three muggings a day, on top of everything else.
People spoke about me like I was an urban legend, speculating about the things Spider-Man was rumoured to have done. They'd correctly guessed that I was the one who'd taken down the GST block party and had something to do with the subsequent arrests, but the rest of the rumours were getting increasingly strange.
Some thought I was a demon from hell come to punish the wicked — I was fairly sure that one was a troll stirring things up for fun. Others thought I was some kind of madman. One theory even suggested I was a member of the FF who didn't like publicity and had gotten my powers the same way they had.
People had started taking pictures of me. I was the meme of the week. Even kids at school talked about me like I was some kind of god, which made me oddly self-conscious knowing just how much they loved Spider-Man.
Honestly, though, the crimes being committed on the streets were minor and infrequent. I needed a new target, and soon. I'd been following the GST trial closely, and it looked like Matt had the whole thing in the bag. The evidence wasn't entirely admissible in court, which was frustrating, but the drug bust at the warehouse was more than enough to put them all away.
I kept up my training with Colleen, who had now taught me all the sword katas she knew. It was both a blessing and a curse to have a mind like mine — I could memorise the forms in seconds, though I'll admit actually applying them in combat took considerably longer. Colleen had moved me up on her class roster. I was now in the third-hour classes and had just begun hand-to-hand training. I could tell she was still holding back, unwilling to teach me everything a Hand ninja would know, but that was fine. Sooner or later, Colleen's warrior pride would get the better of her and she'd push me further — just to prove that she could.
Though one particular incident over the past week stood out above everything else. I'd had a run-in with Felicia, only we were both in costume.
I was swinging down Wall Street when I heard a window shatter. I landed on the building across the street and watched as a figure dressed in black shimmied along the side of a building before dropping onto the roof of a shorter one nearby. I narrowed my eyes and smiled. She still wore the black tracksuit and the mask. Honestly, it was kind of endearing.
I swung toward her and dropped down. "Heya, Kitty!"
The Black Cat spun around as I grabbed her around the waist and rolled across the rooftop. I ended up on top with her pinned beneath me. I grinned. "We really have to stop meeting like this."
"Spider?" She blinked. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know how it is — I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by." I glanced at her belt and found a pouch stuffed full. "Have you been stealing again?"
"What I do is none of your business," she growled.
"Ah — yeah, it is. Hero. Thief. See how that works?"
"Sorry, Spider, but I don't have time to flirt," she said, and then drove her knee into my groin with ruthless efficiency.
I crumpled, because of course I did. I knelt on the rooftop in blinding pain as she crawled free and sprinted to the edge, leaping off.
"Not this time!" I shouted, firing a web line and yanking her back up. She grunted as she hit the roof and scrambled to her feet, pulling a knife and slicing through the webbing.
"Hey, that stuff's expensive, you know!" I chuckled.
"I'm sure you can cover it," she smiled as we circled each other. She lunged first with a swipe of the blade. I sidestepped easily, caught her forearm, twisted it behind her back, and grabbed her by the hips.
"You know, Cat, you could do so much more fighting for the good guys," I murmured.
"What makes you think I'm not?"
"Stealing isn't usually what the good guys do," I told her.
"That's what you think. Your definition of good and bad needs some work, Spider. I only steal from those who deserve it."
"Like a small-time jewellery store?"
"A front for an uptown mafia operation."
"And the Wall Street broker's office you broke into?"
"He's a broker. You really think he isn't dirty?"
"So what? You're a modern-day Robin Hood?"
"No. I said I steal from the rich. I never said I gave to the poor." She broke out of my grip and kicked me back. She bolted to the roof edge, turned, and blew me a kiss. "Next time, Spider." And then she dropped, landing on the roof of the building below before vanishing into an alley.
I sighed as I got to my feet. She really was a handful. I pulled out the thumb drive I'd lifted from her satchel during the scuffle and grinned. Score tied. I snapped the drive in half and tossed the pieces away — it was probably useless to me now anyway.
And so after all of that, I found myself back in school, which I was quickly coming to realise was the most tedious part of my life. I was stuck in history class, barely listening as my teacher droned on about just how terrible World War II had been.
I sighed and skimmed through the textbook, looking at photographs and grim illustrations. I stopped at a picture of Captain America and blinked. 'Right — he's a war hero in this world, isn't he?'
I turned to the chapter covering Steve Rogers and looked over the photos and details. It matched the films closely — Peggy, the German scientist being killed, Bucky's supposed death, all of it.
But then I noticed something. In one of the photos, Steve was posing with his army buddies, sitting on crates stencilled with the words 'Property of Hitler.' What caught my eye, however, was the man standing next to Steve, wearing a jacket with a Canadian flag patch — wild mutton chops, a cigar between his teeth, a feral look in his eyes.
I had the strangest feeling I knew this man. I scanned down to the caption listing the soldiers in the photograph and landed on a name I hadn't expected to see:
'James Howlett.'
James Howlett. The real name of Logan. The Wolverine.
I felt my stomach drop. Mutants were real in this world. They were actually real. Oh shit. Oh, absolutely not. What if a telepath read my mind?! I needed to add 'blocking out psychic busybodies who don't respect mental privacy' to my ever-growing list.
I wondered if Charles Xavier had established his school yet. Were Scott and Jean already his students? Had Magneto made any public moves? No — not yet, it seemed. If he had, mutants would be the talk of the planet, and Spider-Man would have been written off as just another mutant. No, mutants were still hidden. They weren't even urban legends yet.
"Mr. Parker," the teacher called.
I looked up. "Yes?"
"Are you paying attention?"
"...Yes?"
"Really? Then tell me — who led Hitler's science and development branch?"
Wasn't that HYDRA? "The Red Skull, ma'am. He also renamed the branch HYDRA."
"Very good, Peter. But his name wasn't Red Skull — what was his real name?"
I blinked. "What do you mean it wasn't Red Skull?"
"I mean it was a moniker. He does have a name his parents gave him, you know."
"Yeah, but that's the name he chose," I said with a shrug. "The name he chose wasn't the one his parents gave him. They probably expected him to be a decent person — a kind boy who played nice with others. But he wasn't. He was a Jew-hating Nazi, and because of that, his actions deserve to be remembered by the name he chose for himself. His name is — and always will be — the Red Skull."
"That's a...very unique answer, Mr. Parker," the teacher sighed. "Fine. Let's move on."
I nodded as she returned to her lesson. I glanced around and caught a few people looking sideways at me. MJ gave me a small smile. Harry and Flash looked bored. Liz was texting under the desk.
My eyes then landed on the newest addition to our class — the beautiful, distinctly aloof Felicia Hardy. She never spoke to anyone. Every boy in the school wanted her attention and every girl envied her for having it. She was the biggest loner in the school, before me of course, and right now she was looking directly at me.
I held her gaze and didn't flinch. She studied me the way someone looks at a puzzle they can't quite solve — her green eyes unblinking. Was this some kind of contest? Was she trying to size me up? Did she know? No. Of course she didn't. And even if she did, I knew who she was too. Mutually assured destruction.
Finally, she blinked and turned back to the board. I did the same. I had no idea what that was about, but I had a feeling it was far from over.