Peter Parker: A Spider-Man Origin Story

The following late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Midtown High as students poured out of the building, their chatter filling the air. Peter walked down the steps, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets and his gaze fixed on the pavement. The events of the past weeks swirled in his mind, leaving him feeling more distant from the world around him.

"Hey, Parker!"

Peter turned to see Liz Allan jogging toward him, her smile as bright as the sun overhead. "Got a minute?"

Peter blinked, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. "Uh, yeah. What's up?"

Liz fell into step beside him, her eyes scanning his face. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind. Everything okay?"

Peter hesitated, his mind racing for an excuse. "Just… school stuff," he said, offering a half-hearted shrug.

Liz wasn't convinced. She tilted her head, her gaze soft but persistent. "You sure? You've been kind of… out of it lately."

Peter forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Really."

They walked in silence for a moment before Liz spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "You know, whatever it is, you don't have to go through it alone. You're not as invisible as you think, Parker."

Her words struck a chord, and for a brief moment, Peter felt the weight on his shoulders lighten. "Thanks, Liz," he said softly. "That… means a lot."

Liz smiled, nudging him playfully. "Good. Now, how about we grab a coffee or something? There's this café a few blocks away I've been wanting to try."

Peter stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise. "Wait, you mean… like now?"

Liz laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, why not? Unless you've got plans."

Peter scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing. "It's just… I don't really have any money right now."

Liz waved him off with a grin. "Don't worry about it. Drinks are on me. I just got my allowance."

Peter hesitated, his cheeks reddening further. "I don't know… I mean, I'm supposed to be the one—"

"To pay?" Liz finished, cutting him off with a laugh. "It's fine, Peter. It doesn't always have to be that way. I'm doing this because I want to. Besides, you've been the sweetest to me lately, and you deserve a little treat."

Peter's embarrassment melted into a shy smile. "Well… if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Liz said, her grin widening as she tugged his sleeve. "Come on, let's go."

As they walked together, Peter found himself relaxing, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Liz talked about her new job and her plans for the future, while Peter shared some of his own ambitions—carefully omitting the more complicated parts of his life.

The dimly lit workshop hummed with energy as Adrian Toomes stood before his fully assembled Vulture suit. The jagged wings gleamed under the flickering fluorescent lights, their sharp edges radiating an ominous energy. Blueprints and maps were scattered across the workbench, detailing Oscorp's most secure facilities.

Toomes adjusted a control on his gauntlet, the suit's thrusters emitting a faint whine as they powered up. His expression was cold, his eyes burning with anger.

"Osborn's not getting away with this," he muttered, his voice low and venomous. "Not this time."

His gaze shifted to a photograph pinned to the wall—Norman Osborn shaking hands with a group of investors. Next to it was a hastily sketched drawing of the hooded figure who had interfered at the shipping yard.

Toomes clenched his fists, his gauntlets sparking in response. "That kid… he's going to regret crossing me."

He moved to the workbench, finalizing his plans. His target was clear: Oscorp's advanced energy cells, the key to stabilizing his suit's power core and ensuring its dominance. He would stop at nothing to succeed, even if it meant leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Peter stepped into the apartment, the faint scent of Aunt May's cooking wafting through the air. He set his backpack by the door and made his way to his room, still replaying the afternoon's conversation with Liz. A small smile tugged at his lips, but it quickly faded as his eyes landed on the scattered notes and blueprints cluttering his desk.

With a sigh, he sank into his chair, picking up the sketch he'd made of the Vulture suit. His fingers traced the lines of the drawing as his mind raced, trying to piece together connections between Oscorp's advanced energy cells, Toomes' theft, and Gargan's transformation. The pieces were there, but the puzzle still eluded him.

The door creaked open, and Uncle Ben stepped inside, his expression a mix of concern and quiet understanding. The glow of the desk lamp highlighted the lines of experience etched into his face. "Burning the midnight oil again, huh?" he asked softly.

Peter nodded, barely glancing up. "I'm trying to figure out where Toomes might strike next. If I can get ahead of him, maybe I can stop him."

Ben walked further into the room, pulling up a chair beside Peter. He glanced at the blueprints and notes scattered across the desk, his brow furrowing slightly. "Pete, I get what you're trying to do, but this isn't just some high school science project. This is dangerous."

Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know it is, Uncle Ben. But if I don't do something, who will? I have these powers for a reason, right?"

Ben studied his nephew for a long moment before resting a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, kid, I'm proud of you. I really am. You're braver than I ever was at your age. But I've been in situations like this before. I know what it's like to feel like you have to fix everything, to protect everyone." His voice softened, a tinge of regret seeping through. "But it can take a toll on you, Pete. More than you realize."

Peter looked at him, surprised. "You mean… when you were in the military?"

Ben nodded, his gaze distant for a moment. "Yeah. There were times I thought I had to be the one to save the day, to take on more than I could handle. But I learned the hard way that no one can carry that kind of weight alone." He met Peter's eyes again, his expression earnest. "It's okay to ask for help. You don't have to do this by yourself."

Peter's shoulders slumped, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him again. "I just… I don't want to mess up, Uncle Ben. What if I make things worse? What if someone gets hurt because of me?"

Ben's grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, his voice steady and firm. "You're going to mess up. That's part of it. But what matters is that you keep going, that you learn from it. And Pete… you've got me. You've got Aunt May. You've got people who care about you and will stand by you, no matter what."

Peter swallowed hard, his chest tightening. "Thanks, Uncle Ben. I don't think I could do this without you."

Ben gave him a small smile, his voice softening. "You're stronger than you think, Pete. But remember—you're still just a kid. Don't lose sight of that. And don't be afraid to let people in."

There was a long pause before Ben added, "And hey… if you need me to help with anything—research, advice, anything—I'm here. I might not be swinging from buildings, but I know a thing or two about strategy."

Peter chuckled lightly, a flicker of relief breaking through his anxiety. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Uncle Ben."

Ben stood, patting Peter's shoulder one last time. "Anytime, kid. Just promise me one thing."

Peter looked up at him, his brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"Be careful," Ben said, his tone serious. "You're doing something incredible, but that doesn't mean you have to put yourself in harm's way every time. Think things through. And remember—you're not alone."

Peter nodded, the words sinking in. "I promise."

As Ben left the room, Peter turned back to his desk, his resolve hardening. He picked up his sketch of the Vulture suit, studying the intricate details. "One step at a time," he muttered to himself, echoing Ben's advice.

But this time, the words felt less like a burden and more like a path forward.

In the dead of night, the city skyline glimmered under a blanket of stars. High above, a dark figure soared through the air, the faint hum of thrusters cutting through the silence.

Adrian Toomes, fully suited as the Vulture, hovered over Oscorp's main facility. His eyes scanned the perimeter, calculating his next move. The advanced energy cells were within reach, and nothing—no one—would stand in his way.

"This time," he growled, the suit's amplifiers distorting his voice, "I'll finish what I started."

The Vulture dove toward the facility, his wings slicing through the air like blades. The faint glow of his suit's energy core illuminated the night as he prepared to strike.

In the distance, a faint silhouette watched from the shadows, its figure obscured against the city's lights. The stage was set, and the players were in motion.