In a world filled with uncertainty and chaos, where people moved along with the flow as events passed them by, peace was nothing more than an illusion. Humanity, as it always had, embraced ignorance, pretending that the darkness lurking in the shadows had no bearing on their daily lives. As long as the encroaching shadows stayed away from their personal space, they remained indifferent. Even with all the resources available, ignorance persisted. Perhaps humanity was cursed to never overcome its own faults.
But beyond this ordinary world filled with oblivious civilians, there existed another—a world of heroes and villains. A world where beings existed beyond the scope of human comprehension, possessing powers capable of rendering mankind insignificant. Some of these beings had benevolent hearts, their compassion the sole reason humanity had not been wiped out. Others, however, sought destruction, domination, or worse.
Heroes and villains had existed long before they were given names. Some claimed their emergence began in the '80s, but in truth, they had always been present, lurking in history's shadows. Humanity itself had a hand in the creation of many of these extraordinary beings, either through unethical experimentation or sheer cruelty that drove them to villainy.
It was nothing short of luck that the world hadn't collapsed yet.
As the rise of super-powered individuals became undeniable, the world adapted. Governments, recognizing that controlling these individuals was impossible, created new laws to accommodate them. Heroes were not public employees but vigilantes who fought for justice on their own terms. Since they were not bound by legal frameworks, they couldn't justify their actions as self-defense, but special laws were passed allowing them to operate for the good of society. Governments even provided financial and logistical support, realizing that it was far more cost-effective to let heroes handle threats rather than deploying traditional military forces.
In extreme cases, when faced with threats like Dr. Doom, Magneto, or Loki, heroes were even authorized to kill.
Despite the benefits heroes provided, governments remained wary, keeping them under surveillance while continuing down a dark path of corruption and unethical human experimentation.
Amid this chaotic world, a special young man lived, questioning the very ideals that defined heroism. Peter Benjamin Parker, a teenager with a sharp mind and a troubled heart, struggled to understand why heroes would put their lives on the line for complete strangers without reward. His uncle and father had often said, "With great power comes great responsibility," but Peter didn't quite grasp their reasoning.
Why should someone with power use it for others? Would those same people ever lift a finger to help him when he needed it?
Peter was born in Queens to CIA agents Richard and Mary Parker, who were tragically killed by the Red Skull and framed for treason. Unbeknownst to Peter, his parents had another child—a younger sister named Teresa, whom he had never met. Following their deaths, Peter was taken in by his uncle and aunt, Ben and May Parker, who raised him as their own in Forest Hills, New York.
Despite the love and care from his aunt and uncle, Peter's life was far from easy. He was a prodigy, excelling in multiple subjects at Midtown High School, earning top honors among his peers. However, his intelligence and reserved nature made him an easy target for bullying. Eugene "Flash" Thompson, the school's football star, led the charge, tormenting Peter whenever he could. The bullying was exacerbated when Peter was forced to tutor Flash's girlfriend for extra money—an effort to lessen the financial burden on his aging guardians.
Peter was physically weak, with poor eyesight and an unimpressive wardrobe that made him look even more frail. He wasn't necessarily insecure—he knew he was smarter than most of the "buffoons" around him—but he lacked the courage to stand up for himself. Years of bullying had instilled fear, and though he hated it, he felt powerless to change his circumstances.
His family's financial struggles weighed on him heavily. Aunt May worked as a nurse, while Uncle Ben managed a small store. Both were older than his parents had been, leading many to assume they were his grandparents rather than his aunt and uncle. Despite their struggles, they never failed to show Peter unconditional love, and for that, he adored them. They were his world, his anchor, and he did everything in his power to ease their burden.
Peter spent most of his time buried in books, studying relentlessly. He took on tutoring jobs to earn money for necessities, though he wasn't particularly social. People tended to isolate him, finding his interests dull or too intellectual. Conversations rarely went his way—he would start talking about a fascinating scientific discovery, only to watch his audience's eyes glaze over with disinterest.
Despite the constant bullying and social struggles, Peter remained hopeful about the future. He was a genius, after all, and many of his teachers and professors recognized his potential. Some had even extended offers for him to join their research projects. Those words of encouragement fueled his dreams, and while life wasn't easy, he had hope.
Now, at eighteen years old, Peter had finally entered Empire State University on a science scholarship. It was his chance at a fresh start—a new beginning where he could finally surround himself with people who shared his passion for knowledge.
Or so he thought.
Sitting outside on a crisp autumn afternoon, Peter flipped through his notes, lost in the intricacies of his latest research. The world around him faded into white noise as he immersed himself in equations, chemical structures, and theories that fascinated him.
"Hey, Parker, how's life treating you?"
Peter stiffened. The voice was familiar, a ghost from the past that refused to let him go.
Looking up, he saw Flash Thompson approaching with his usual entourage—two guys from the football team and, of course, his girlfriend, Liz Allan.
Peter had dared to hope that university would be different, that the social hierarchy of high school would dissolve in the face of higher education. But reality was cruel.
"Hello, Flash," Peter said carefully, keeping his voice even. "It's going well. How can I help you?"
There was no point in antagonizing him. Flash wasn't just a bully; he was dangerous. He had made it clear before graduation that if Peter ever tried to stand up to him, there would be consequences. And despite his newfound independence in college, Peter knew Flash still had ways to make his life miserable.
Flash grinned, towering over him. "Haha, that's my Parker. We're gonna need help with our assignments, so don't forget to make time for it."
Peter clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to smile. "Sure."
Flash chuckled, patting Peter on the shoulder—too hard to be friendly, but not hard enough to be a clear attack. "Good man."
Peter watched as they walked away, the laughter of Flash's friends ringing in his ears. His gut twisted with frustration, but what could he do? Flash wasn't stupid anymore. He had matured—at least in a way. He no longer engaged in outright criminal behavior, but he still saw Peter as his personal punching bag.
Flash had always been a product of his environment. His father was an abusive alcoholic, a police officer who used his badge as a shield to get away with unspeakable crimes. His mother was a beaten-down woman who never fought back, trapped in a marriage that had long since killed her spirit.
For years, Flash had taken out his anger and helplessness on those weaker than him, never daring to challenge the true source of his misery.
But that changed one night during the summer after high school.
Flash had walked in on his father attempting to force himself on his little sister. The sight ignited something in him—rage, disgust, the overwhelming need to protect. Without thinking, he grabbed a vase and smashed it over his father's head.
The aftermath was a blur. His father was arrested, though his badge allowed him to escape with nothing more than a suspension. His mother, finally free, took his sister and moved in with her parents.
Flash, unwilling to leave Liz, chose to stay behind.
The experience changed him. He no longer saw himself as just another street thug, blindly repeating the cycle of abuse. He had a future in football, and he wasn't going to throw it away for something as meaningless as schoolyard bullying.
But old habits died hard.
Messing with Parker wasn't about malice anymore. It was habit, amusement—a way to test the kid. He wasn't hurting him. Not really. If anything, he was pushing Peter to toughen up.
If Parker had a spine, he'd stand up for himself. If he didn't, then at least he was useful.
Peter Parker could feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribs as Flash's large hand gripped his own, pulling him up with surprising ease. His palms were sweaty, and he bit his lower lip, trying to think of a way out of this situation.
"Flash, I can only make some time. Is that okay? You know I'm really busy now," Peter said cautiously.
Flash raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised. Parker had never really negotiated with him before. Usually, he just nodded and did whatever was asked. It was amusing, in a way. Flash could see the nervous energy rolling off him, but the fact that Peter even attempted to push back was unexpected.
Still, Flash wasn't one to get angry over something so small. He chuckled, slapping Peter on the back with enough force to make him stumble slightly.
"I don't have a problem with that," Flash said, grinning. "But I want my work finished."
"Yes," Peter answered immediately.
"Good," Flash said, satisfied. Then, his eyes gleamed with something that made Peter uneasy. "Wanna join us for a drink? You know, first week of university, new life, new beginnings."
Peter hesitated. "Thank you, but I don't like to drink."
Flash snorted. "Parker, let's go."
That voice—Peter shuddered.
It was an old, familiar command. One that left no room for argument. It wasn't a threat, not exactly, but it was an expectation. Peter had heard it so many times before, back in high school, when Flash decided Peter would be part of something, whether he liked it or not.
Before he could stop himself, his body reacted on instinct. He caught Flash's hand and stood up.
"Okay, guys," Flash said with an excited tone, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulder. "Let's enjoy our time and drink to our futures."
Peter swallowed hard.
He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to drink, didn't want to sit in a loud bar with people who had spent years making his life miserable. But his mind was racing, his heart pounding, and he knew—he knew—that saying no would make things worse.
Flash was in a good mood. There was no malice in his voice, no cruelty in his eyes. But Peter had learned long ago that denying Flash something he wanted would only bring trouble.
So he followed.
Flash had never really been a fan of drinking.
Not because he was some paragon of responsibility, but because alcohol reminded him too much of his father—the bastard who had ruled their house with drunken rage.
But this time was different.
This wasn't about escaping his pain. This wasn't about drowning in misery like his old man. This was about proving something.
To himself.
For years, he had avoided it. The idea of drinking disgusted him because he feared he would become the same monster his father was. He feared losing control, feared turning into that broken, abusive man who saw violence as the only answer.
But that fear had controlled him for too long.
Flash had broken free from his father's grasp the moment he shattered that vase over his head. He had taken his sister's future into his own hands. He had gotten his mother away from the monster who had ruined their lives.
He wasn't that man.
And tonight, he would prove it.
He would drink—not to forget, not to escape—but to celebrate.
The place was packed with students, all eager to enjoy their first taste of true freedom. Some were already drunk, laughing too loudly, while others sat in booths, flirting, making memories that would probably be forgotten by morning.
Peter felt out of place the moment they stepped inside.
Flash led the way, throwing an arm around Liz's waist as they approached the bar. His two football buddies—Mark and Jason—were already grinning, eager to start the night.
Unlike Peter, they were all nineteen or twenty. That made him the youngest, the smallest, and the weakest—even though there was a girl among them.
Liz Allan was beautiful. She always had been. Blonde hair, warm hazel eyes, and a charm that made her one of the most popular girls in school. But she wasn't just a pretty face. Liz had a sharp mind, one that she often hid behind the mask of a carefree girl who loved the attention of the popular crowd.
Peter had always known she was smarter than she let on.
And for some reason, that thought made him even more uncomfortable.
She glanced at him, her lips curving into a slight smirk. "Didn't think you were the partying type, Parker."
"I'm not," Peter admitted.
"So why are you here?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.
Peter hesitated. He didn't want to admit the truth. That he was here because he was too afraid to say no. Because even though Flash had matured, the memories of high school still clung to him like ghosts whispering in his ear.
But before he could answer, Flash clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on, Parker," Flash said, handing him a drink. "One toast. Just one. Even you can handle that."
Peter stared at the glass in his hand.
One toast.
Just one.
His fingers tightened around the glass as he felt the weight of the moment press down on him. He wasn't a child anymore. He wasn't weak. He wasn't going to let the past dictate his future.
Taking a deep breath, Peter raised the glass.
"To the future," he said, his voice steady.
Flash grinned, raising his own glass. "To the future."
And just like that, Peter Parker took his first sip of alcohol.
A single moment.
A single choice.
And yet, fate had already begun weaving its web.
Because tonight was only the beginning.
And Peter Parker's future was about to change forever.