"Wait, hold on a second. So you're saying neither you nor Peter are mutants?" Ben Parker sat on a high-tech bench in Base 1, still periodically poking his chest to make sure it was solid. His brain was trying to process a lot of information in a very short window. "I've seen the news. People who can move like lightning or... well, disappear into light... they usually have an X-gene or something, right? Is there another club I don't know about?"
Huang Wen chuckled, leaning against a metallic pillar. "The world likes labels, Mr. Parker. It makes people feel safe to put everything in a neat little box marked 'Mutant.' But the truth is, the universe is a lot noisier than that. Some people are born with it, some people earn it through discipline, and some... well, some get bit by things they shouldn't have been playing with. The result looks the same to an outsider, but the 'why' is different for everyone."
Ben looked at Peter, who was looking down at his own hands with a mixture of awe and guilt. "So... New Hope State? That school for gifted youngsters? Should I still be looking into enrollment forms?" Ben's voice was hesitant. He wanted the best for Peter, but the idea of sending his nephew to a government-monitored facility felt wrong now.
"No! Uncle Ben, please!" Peter's head snapped up, his eyes wide with genuine panic. "I can't leave Queens. I can't leave you and Aunt May. Especially not now!"
Standing off to the side, Huang Liang couldn't help but smirk. The tension was thick, but he couldn't resist a little jab. "Oh, come on, Pete. Let's be honest. It's not just the elderly relatives you're worried about. I'm pretty sure a certain red-headed neighbor named Mary Jane might have something to do with your sudden desire to stay local, right?"
Peter's face went from pale to a deep, vibrant crimson in record time. "Cough—Liang! Shut up! That's... that's completely unrelated and you know it!" He turned back to Ben, waving his hands frantically. "He's just talking trash, Uncle Ben! Don't listen to him!"
Ben Parker actually let out a small, tired laugh. "Son, your Aunt and I aren't blind. We've seen you staring out the window like a lost puppy for three years. You're a man now, Peter. You make your own calls. But whatever you decide—whether you stay here or go—remember what we talked about on that sidewalk. The power you have... it's a tool. Don't let the tool own the craftsman."
Peter took a deep breath, his expression hardening into something more mature. "I won't. I promise. And... Uncle Ben, there's something else. I didn't get that money from a scholarship or a part-time job at the library. I made three thousand dollars tonight. I... I was in an underground cage match."
Ben's eyes widened. "A cage match? Peter, you could have killed someone! Or been killed!"
"I know," Peter whispered. "I was angry. I wanted to prove something. But I'm done with that. It was a mistake."
Before the lecture could continue, Huang Wen's phone hummed. He checked a message from Jack, the local police contact who had been working closely with their circle. "Well, some closure for you," Huang Wen announced. "Jack just picked up Bot and his crew. They didn't get far. Apparently, trying to flee in a stolen car while covered in bodega snacks makes you pretty easy to spot. The money's been recovered, and they're headed for a very long stay in a very unpleasant cell."
Huang Wen paused, his eyes flickering with a bit of pity. "The bad news, Mr. Parker... their getaway driving was atrocious. Your car looks like it went through a car compactor. Unless you've got the world's best premium insurance, it's a total loss."
Ben's face fell. He slumped back against the bench. "Insurance? I haven't been able to afford the commercial premiums since the layoff. I was just running on basic liability. That car... that was our only way to get around."
Peter didn't hesitate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled stack of bills—the blood money from the ring. "Uncle, take it. All of it. Buy a new car. A safe one. Something that won't break down every two miles."
"Peter, no," Ben shook his head stubbornly. "That's your money. For college. For your future."
"My future is right here," Peter insisted, shoving the money into Ben's hand. "If I hadn't been out chasing this cash, I would have been with you. This is how we fix it. Please."
Huang Wen watched the exchange and realized the lesson was over for the night. "It's late. Let's get you both home before May starts calling the National Guard." With a wave of his hand, the group dissolved into golden particles, reappearing in the quiet shadows of an alleyway near the Parker residence.
The next forty-eight hours were a blur for Peter. Ben eventually accepted a portion of the money to buy a reliable, if uninspired, used sedan. The rest went into a "rainy day" jar that May insisted on keeping. But Peter couldn't sit still. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flash of the gun and the blood on the pizza box. He realized that while he was lucky to know Huang Wen, the rest of the city wasn't.
Two nights later, a figure clad in a makeshift red and blue suit—expertly stitched by a very confused but supportive Aunt May—dropped down beside Huang Liang on a rooftop in Chinatown.
"I'm done with the side jobs, Liang," Peter said, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric mask. "I want to do something that actually matters. I want to make sure nobody else has to lie in the street waiting for a miracle that might not come. You in?"
Huang Liang looked at the costume. It was... vibrant. "Nice pajamas, Pete. Very subtle. So, what's the brand? What are the papers going to call you?"
Peter stood up straight, looking out over the skyline. "I was thinking... Spider-Man. It's got a ring to it, don't you think?"
"Spider-Man? Really?" Liang suppressed a grin. "Fine. But we have a problem. My style is Wing Chun and Qinggong. Yours is... well, jumping around like a caffeinated cricket. If we're going to do this, we need backup. We need people who know the streets."
"You mean the guys you told me about? The ones who wear the suits?" Peter asked.
"The Three Heroes of the Swallowtail," Liang corrected. "They're out tonight. Word is there's a human trafficking ring moving through the docks. Let's go."
They moved across the city—Liang leaping across rooftops with the grace of a bird, and Peter... Peter was struggling. He had the strength, but he didn't have the flow. He was running along walls and taking massive, awkward leaps that nearly ended in several broken ankles.
They eventually found the trio: Zhong Qiang, Reese Fisk, and Jack, all crouched behind a stack of shipping containers near the harbor. They were dressed in their signature charcoal-grey swallowtail suits, looking like the world's deadliest waiters.
"Who goes there?" Zhong Qiang hissed, his hand going to his belt.
"Chill, it's just me," Liang said, dropping down from a crane. "And I brought a friend. Meet... Spider-Man."
Peter landed a second later, tumbling slightly before sticking a superhero pose that he'd clearly practiced in the mirror. "Greetings, fellow seekers of justice! I am Spider-Man. I heard you were the best in the business, and I'm here to offer a collaboration."
There was a long, painful silence.
"Peter?" Reese Fisk asked, deadpan. "Is that you under the red spandex? I can see your glasses through the eye-holes."
Peter froze. He slowly reached up and adjusted his mask. "Uh... no. I am a mysterious vigilante of the night. Who is this Peter you speak of?"
"We all go to the same school or work for the same Master, kid," Zhong Qiang said, rolling his eyes. "And Jack literally has your prints on file from the arrest report. Drop the act."
Peter sighed, pulling the mask up to his nose. "Fine. It's me. But the suit is cool, right? My aunt made it."
"It's... bright," Jack commented, looking back at the harbor. "Look, 'Spider-Man,' we're in the middle of a stakeout. We've got reports of girls being moved in those crates. This isn't a school project."
"I can help!" Peter insisted. "I'm stronger than I look. And I have... well, I have this." He flexed, though the baggy fabric of the suit didn't do him many favors.
"The problem is synergy," Reese analyzed, crossing his arms. "We're the Swallowtail Three. We have a theme. We have a brand. You look like you escaped from a circus. If you join us, are you going to wear a swallowtail over that? Because that would just look ridiculous."
Peter slumped. "I don't have money for a custom suit. I spent it all on a used Honda Civic for my uncle."
Huang Liang looked at Peter and then at the others. "He's got heart, guys. And he's fast. Faster than any of us. How about this: he and I work as a separate cell? We can be the 'Scouts.' We find the trouble, we signal you, and we move in together. A loose alliance."
"I don't know," Liang muttered to herself, looking at Peter's lack of mobility tools. "I can't weave webs like he wants to. Maybe I'll ask the Master tomorrow if there's a way to manifest energy strings or something. Or maybe we can build something."
"I'll help with the tech!" Peter said excitedly. "I'm a chem honors student. I bet I could formulate some kind of synthetic adhesive. But Liang... if we're a team, you have to wear a mask too. We need a theme."