Peter Parker groaned as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch, half-asleep and sweating under a thin blanket. The TV flickered with soft static in the background, casting erratic shadows across the living room. His breathing was shallow, and something about him looked... off. Strained. He wasn't just tired. He was unwell.
And then, as if pulled by invisible strings, Peter slipped into a dream unlike any he had ever experienced.
In the Dream
Peter floated in a boundless void—a swirling realm of amethyst mist and glowing silver webbing. The air was weightless, the silence deafening. The webs stretched in every direction, a lattice of infinite complexity. And upon these shimmering strands stood figures.
Dozens of them.
They came in all shapes and sizes: one in a red-and-blue suit of mechanized armor, another cloaked in living black shadows, one covered in bio-luminescent tattoos, and even—most absurdly—a massive T-Rex with red-and-blue cuffs perched on a giant strand. Yet, despite their differences, every single one of them radiated the same presence.
The Spider.
Peter turned, heart thudding. A figure stepped forward from the fog.
He wore a green suit etched with glowing symbols, and an orange-brown cloak fell over his shoulders like a hooded shroud. His presence was ancient—older than the dream itself.
The figure spoke, voice calm and deep. "You are a unique one. A world not quite Earth-616, but not far removed. And inside you—a power not derived from me."
Peter frowned. "What?"
The man smiled gently. "You may not remember this. But allow me to say it regardless. I am Kwaku Anansi—the first Spider-Man. And I am excited to see what you can do, Peter Parker."
A wave of dizziness hit Peter like a crashing wave. The purple mist thickened, and his eyes drifted shut.
Peter gasped awake, bolting upright on the couch. "Ugh... what the hell was that?"
He groaned and staggered toward the table, rubbing his pounding head. His fingers reached for his glasses—habitually—and he slid them on.
Everything became blurry.
He blinked. Took the glasses off. The world snapped into perfect clarity.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
Then he looked down.
"What the actual hell?!"
His body—formerly lean, borderline scrawny—was now muscular. His arms were toned, his chest firm, and when he lifted his shirt in the mirror, a defined six-pack stared back at him.
Panic. Full-scale.
He grabbed his phone and dialed. "Bobby! Cassie! Get in here!"
Bobby's door slammed open.
"It's too early in the fucking morning for this," he muttered groggily, dragging himself into the hallway.
Cassie followed, hair disheveled. "Peter, if this is another dream about radioactive waffles again—"
Both of them stopped cold when they saw him.
"Whoa," Bobby said flatly. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Peter?"
Peter raised his arms. "Guys, it's me!"
Cassie narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."
"I'm the one who cried watching Wall-E and blamed it on allergies!"
They lunged. In seconds, he was pinned to the floor.
You fake Peter will never admit to it.
"Okay! I'm losing circulation! It's really me!"
Later at the Base
Adrian stood in front of a holographic display, holding a container with a strange red-and-blue spider sealed inside.
Bobby folded his arms. "Okay, someone explain why Peter went from 'tech nerd' to 'shirtless Instagram model' overnight?"
Peter shrugged helplessly. "I don't know! I just woke up like this!"
Adrian cleared his throat. "This is a genetically-altered radioactive spider. Its venom can rewrite a host's DNA."
Cassie's face twisted. "That's...gross."
Adrian continued, gesturing to Peter. "Based on what we've seen, the venom triggered a full-body mutation. Superhuman traits, cellular reinforcement, neurological rewiring."
Peter leaned forward, anxiety thick in his voice. "So, wait—does that mean I have powers?"
"Well," Adrian said, "there's a 10% chance the venom gives you superpowers... and a 90% chance it gives you cancer."
"WHAT?!"
The three shouted in unison.
Peter's knees gave out. He slumped into a chair, pale.
Bobby immediately wrapped him in a hug. "It's okay, man! We'll get through this!"
Cassie looked away, fists clenched, a storm of emotions crossing her face.
Adrian tapped the glass. "Guys. Calm down. Peter's body is thriving. He clearly landed the 10%. No tumors, no collapse. Just gainz. Like superhero CrossFit."
They all paused.
"YIPPEE!" Bobby cheered, jumping.
Cassie let out a breath and laughed. "I swear, Adrian, don't do that again."
Peter was crying again—this time from joy. "I'm not gonna die..."
The Vanguard training room buzzed with energy. Peter stood awkwardly in gym gear, still getting used to his own limbs.
Adrian lobbed a soda can at him without warning. Peter's hand shot up and snatched it effortlessly.
"What the hell?! You almost broke my nose!"
Adrian grinned. "Spider-Sense. Works fast."
The next few days became a blur of experimentation:
Peter clinging to walls, only to get stuck upside down.
Bobby racing him through agility courses, huffing and losing every time.
Cassie documenting his progress with ruthless precision.
Adrian, at one point, making elaborate hand signs and muttering, "Domain Expansion Malevolent Kitchen."
Cassie blinked. "What the hell are you doing?"
Bobby: "Is that, like, ninja magic or something?"
Adrian coughed. "Never mind."
Cassie stood in front of a whiteboard, scribbling powers in bold red ink.
"Okay. So far: super strength, agility, durability, sixth sense—aka Spider-Sense—and wall-crawling. That's five."
Peter raised a hand. "Still no webs though."
"We'll work on that."
Adrian grinned like a madman. "You know what this means."
Cassie and Bobby mirrored his smile.
"A new suit," Adrian said.
Peter backed away. "No no no—guys! I'm still the 'man in the chair'! I'm not a field guy!"
"You're not just in the chair anymore," Adrian said. "You've got powers that put you on par with Cassie and Bobby. You're part of the team."
"Wait, wait, PLEASE—"
They tackled him.
"GET THE MEASUREMENTS!" Cassie shouted.
Three Days Later
Peter stood in front of the mirror.
The new suit was everything he feared—and everything he didn't know he needed. It was sleek and iconic, with deep red and vibrant blue panels. But under the hood, it was tech-heavy:
Reinforced spine support to help with swinging strain.
Suppression knuckles made of impact-dampening foam-metal alloy.
Temperature-regulating underweave for harsh climates.
Adrian stood behind him, arms crossed, satisfied. "Now that's a hero."
Peter muttered, "How did I get dragged into this...?"
"Cheer up," Bobby said. "You're gonna be a legend."
Adrian clapped his shoulder. "Time for your first mission."
Peter groaned. "I WAS JUST A SUPPORT GUY."
Peter's First Day as Spider-Man
The city was buzzing.
Peter crouched atop a rooftop, wind brushing against his new suit. He exhaled through clenched teeth, hands shaking.
"Adrian," he whispered into his comm, "I'm gonna puke."
"Please don't. That mask is expensive."
Below, chaos erupted. Three masked robbers sprinted from a jewelry store, bags slung over their shoulders.
Peter didn't think.
He leapt.
Air roared past his ears. His vision narrowed. Time seemed to slow. One robber raised a gun—Peter's Spider-Sense screamed. He twisted mid-air, shot a makeshift web line, and yanked one man's leg from under him.
He hit the second with a flying kick.
The third pulled a pistol—
Cassie's shadowy whip snapped it away.
Bobby teleported in and slammed the guy against the wall.
Peter landed, panting.
"I... I did it."
Adrian's voice crackled through. "Welcome to the front line, Spider-Man."
Peter grinned behind the mask.
"Yeah... this might actually be kinda awesome."