Arachnid: A New Turn

[Peter's POV]

"That. Was. Awesome!" 

Miles practically shouted, his voice echoing down the street.

They caught up with me about ten minutes after I left the warehouse, and the conversation immediately exploded. 

Miles, as expected, was bursting with enthusiasm and admiration, while Gwen's remarks were with curiosity and skepticism.

"Do you really think this will change anything?" 

Gwen asked and her eyebrow raised.

"I can only hope." 

I replied with a small shrug.

"At the very least, today made it clear that messing with me—or my friends—isn't a good idea. So yeah, it was worth it."

"But seriously." 

Miles cut in, his eyes sparkling excitedly, "Where did you learn to move like that? That was incredible!"

"I guess all those Bruce Lee movies finally paid off," 

I quipped, deflecting the question with a grin, not ready to reveal the truth just yet.

"Yeah, those few hours were totally worth it," 

Miles said with a satisfied grin.

I froze mid-step, "Wait, how many hours?!"

Miles chuckled. 

"Looks like you were so into it with Flash that time just flew by."

Gwen smirked, crossing her arms. 

"It's true. You didn't seem to notice the clock ticking while you were putting on your little show."

My mind started racing. 

The walk from school to the warehouse took forty minutes, plus the time to get home... oh no.

"I'm late!" 

I shouted, panic rising.

Before Gwen or Miles could react, I was already bolting down the street like my life depended on it.

"Wow," 

Gwen remarked, watching me disappear into the distance, "I guess he really is in a hurry."

...

'Come on, Peter Benjamin Parker,'

I muttered to myself, mentally kicking myself for losing track of time. 

'How could you screw this up? Great job enjoying the glory too much. You promised Uncle Ben! He's counting on you, genius.'

I sprinted through the crowded streets, dodging between pedestrians and silently praying that I wouldn't knock anyone over or, worse, get scolded when I got home.

I dashed onto the main street leading to my house, barely slowing down as I threw open the front door. 

The sharp sound startled Aunt May, who spilled her tea in surprise.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!" 

She exclaimed, clutching her chest. 

"Why are you barging in like a madman? You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, Aunt May," 

I said, panting as I caught my breath, "I was in a hurry. Where's Uncle Ben?"

She gave me a small, disappointed look before answering. 

"He's in the garage. He couldn't wait any longer."

"I know, I messed up," 

I said, guilt weighing on my shoulders, "I hope he's not too upset."

I headed toward the garage, bracing myself. When I opened the door, there he was, standing on a ladder, calmly painting the wall. 

"Don't say anything. I know. I promised to come right after school, and I'm a few hours late. It was my mistake, so please don't be mad."

"Peter, you're young, all sorts of things happen at your age. Believe me, I'm not going to get angry or upset over one mistake of yours. After all, you came."

The old man commented cheerfully.

"Now help me out, there's still plenty of work ahead."

He added with a slightly mischievous tone, handing me the roller.

I breathe out, relax, and take the tool.

That's how we started working, occasionally joking around.

"So what ended up delaying you?"

"Umm..."

"Actually, I was settling an old score."

"More specifically?"

Ben asked with more focus.

"Do you remember Flash Thompson?"

"The troublemaker who's been picking on you since elementary school? Of course, I remember. What happened?"

"I just decided to get back at him for all the humiliation today."

"Peter, you've always been against it, even when I suggested it. You said it was unreasonable to react and that it would all blow over soon." 

Uncle Ben says, looking at me in confusion.

"True. It was unreasonable to drag you into my conflict. But today, I decided to take care of it." 

I reply, not pausing in my painting.

"You were in a fight?" 

Uncle Ben asks, frowning.

"Yes,"

I reply steadily and confidently.

"Did anyone get hurt?" 

He asks, furrowing his brow even more.

"Not as badly as it could have been. Besides, I tried to plant seeds of reason in their heads after the incident."

I say confidently.

"Listen, Peter, I'm not going to lecture you, I'm no saint myself. But remember, reason should always prevail in people. You may be strong, but with great power comes great responsibility." 

He says, giving me a meaningful look and placing his hand on my shoulder.

Wow. 

That signature phrase, coming from him… gave me chills.

"I'll remember, Uncle. I really will." 

I say seriously, looking Ben in the eyes.

"Well, alright. I trust you, champ, I'm sure you did the right thing. Let's get back to work."

We continued painting the garage, but I no longer felt any guilt. It's always nice to talk things out with someone you trust.

After thirty minutes, Aunt May came in and brought us lemonade.

Uncle Ben and I leaned against the tool counter, taking a break and chatting.

"Listen, Uncle Ben, sorry if I'm prying, but I've always wondered… Why don't you and Aunt May have any children of your own?" 

I really wanted to ask this question. I couldn't hold back. The old man even seemed a bit upset.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to…"

"No, no, Peter, it's nothing like that. You see, when I was young, many things happened in my life and the world. These... events had consequences. I'll always be grateful to God that I came back alive, even if not exactly healthy." 

Ben explained sadly but not in great detail.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I didn't know."

"Your Aunt May is a miracle, a true angel. Many women in her place would have just left after hearing the diagnosis, but she stayed with me. I will always value her sacrifice." 

Uncle Ben brightened a little, "And then you came along. Even though it was under terrible circumstances with your parents... we were there and did everything we could to take care of you.

"And I will always remember your sacrifice."

"You don't need to, son. We didn't sacrifice anything. It's quite the opposite. Ah, you've made this old man teary. Let's get back to work."

"Okay."

...

[3rd POV]

At the same time, in the Oscorp office.

Norman Osborn sat in the darkness of his huge office, staring out of the window. 

A message from his secretary interrupted his thoughts.

"Mr. Osborn, Professor Doles requests permission to enter."

"Let him in."

"Mr. Osborn, you wanted to see me." 

The bald scientist stammered nervously, sweating and fiddling with the collar of his lab coat.

"What happened to the missing sample?"

"The subject disappeared from its containment tank. We tried to track it through the surveillance system, but nothing unusual was captured on the cameras that day. There was a school field trip, but nothing extraordinary occurred during it."

"Could the subject have escaped the lab?" 

Osborn asked sternly, his voice full of authority.

"Usually, everything is well-secured, but with the students being allowed in... anything is possible."

"Check the surveillance footage again. I'm sure the answer is in there. This is your only chance, Doles. If you fail me..." 

The man didn't finish the sentence.

At Oscorp, everyone knew how authoritarian Norman Osborn was and what had happened to those who had let him down.

Professor Doles scientist left the office, stumbling over his words.