The Spider:AHero’s Awakening

Pain.

It was the first thing I felt—a searing, unbearable heat spreading from my hand like molten metal burrowing under my skin. My vision blurred, and a guttural cry escaped my lips.

"Argh!"

Then, suddenly, the pain vanished, and I found myself somewhere else entirely.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision, only to be met with a pristine marble floor reflecting my face back at me. My skin was pale, my brown hair messy, and perched on my nose were the largest pair of circular glasses I had ever seen.

"Mr. Parker, are you okay?!"

I looked up, startled by the voice, and found a concerned middle-aged woman staring at me. She had dark hair streaked with gray and a frown of deep concern.

Mrs. Sonada.

The name surfaced from the depths of my mind like an unbidden memory. She was my biology teacher—or rather, Peter Parker's biology teacher.

I froze.

My hand throbbed, and I glanced down, feeling a sense of dread pool in my stomach. Two bright red puncture marks near my knuckles stood out against my pale skin, the flesh around them already swelling to twice its normal size.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

"Mr. Parker?!" Mrs. Sonada shook me gently, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts.

"I—I'm fine," I muttered, standing on reflex. My head swam, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

The rest of the class stared at me like I was a zoo exhibit, their eyes wide with curiosity and whispers filling the air. A tall, blond kid—Flash Thompson, my mind supplied unhelpfully—grinned smugly from across the room.

"Looks like Puny Parker finally did something interesting!" he snickered.

I ignored him, still reeling from the realization dawning upon me. I wasn't me. I was Peter Parker. Somehow, some way, I had woken up in his body, in his life.

"This looks serious," Mrs. Sonada said, leading me toward the door. "Let's get you to the nurse."

I barely registered the walk to the school bus, the other students following behind in pairs, chattering excitedly. My fever was rising, sweat dripping down my face, and before I knew it, I was being rushed into a hospital.

The next few hours passed in a feverish blur.

Doctors came and went, diagnosing me with an "allergic reaction," and recommending bed rest for a week. I managed a weak nod before darkness claimed me once more.

When I woke up, it was to the soft sound of shuffling footsteps and the scent of something warm and comforting in the air. I cracked my eyes open, the ceiling of a cozy bedroom greeting me.

I knew this place.

It was Peter Parker's room. A desk piled high with books, an old computer in the corner, and a closet filled with clothes that screamed "nerd chic."

And then, the memories hit.

Flashbacks of a life I hadn't lived—growing up in Queens, being raised by Uncle Ben and Aunt May, getting bullied at school, and suppressing my intellect out of fear of rejection. I wasn't Peter Parker, but at the same time, I was.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. "Peter, sweetie, are you awake?"

Aunt May.

The warmth in her voice sent an unfamiliar pang of emotion through me. "Yeah… yeah, I'm up," I called out hoarsely.

The door creaked open, and she smiled, relief evident in her eyes. "Good. I made you some breakfast. Come down when you're ready."

I nodded, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, but the moment my feet touched the floor, something strange happened. My body reacted—too fast, too agile. I stumbled forward, catching myself against the wall, and to my shock, my hands stuck to it.

I gasped and pulled back, only to see tiny ridges lining my fingertips, gripping onto the surface with ease.

"What the hell…" I whispered.

I cautiously pressed my hand against the wall again, and sure enough, it stuck, adhering like super glue. Experimenting further, I climbed up a few feet before letting go, landing softly.

I was stronger. Faster. Different.

Rushing to the mirror, I stared at my reflection. A scrawny, bespectacled teenager stared back, but beneath the surface, I could feel the power coursing through my veins. My muscles were leaner, more defined, and my senses were heightened to an overwhelming degree.

Peter Parker had just been bitten by the radioactive spider.

And now… so had I.

"Holy shit," I muttered.

The next few days were spent in cautious isolation. I faked being sick, staying in bed and processing everything. The memories were flooding in—chemistry formulas, engineering blueprints, and a level of intelligence I could barely comprehend.

I learned everything about Peter Parker's life. He had no close friends. No Mary Jane. No Gwen Stacy. Just a lonely genius afraid of standing out.

And then there was the biggest revelation of all: this was the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Iron Man had revealed his identity publicly, meaning the events of Iron Man 2 were already in motion. This world was heading toward chaos, and I was smack in the middle of it.

I could be Spider-Man. But did I want to be?

I sat by the window, watching the sun rise over Queens. "Should Spider-Man even exist?" I muttered to myself. In the comics, Peter only donned the suit after Uncle Ben's tragic death, driven by guilt. But I knew what was coming—I wouldn't let him die.

So what then? Was I supposed to just live Peter's life? Be a scientist and invent things instead?

I could become the next Reed Richards, revolutionize the world without ever swinging from a web. But deep down, I knew that wasn't enough.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

Aunt May peeked in with a gentle smile. "Peter, I want you to meet someone. Anna Watson's niece just moved in across the street."

My heart skipped a beat.

Mary Jane Watson.

And just like that, my life as Peter Parker was about to get even more complicated.

To Be Continued…