Peter Parker felt like he was back in his childhood in this life, on the day he said goodbye to his parents. That day, his parents took him to Uncle Ben's house. After his parents talked with his aunt and uncle, they didn't tell him why they were leaving, only saying, "Listen to your aunt and uncle."
He remembered telling his parents that he had found something, that he knew it was dangerous, and he wanted to help.
"I know you're smart, sometimes not like a twelve-year-old. But this isn't something a child can help us with. Listen to Uncle Ben and Aunt May, understand?"
Peter couldn't quite recall what he answered then. He tried to remember, but the sound of his alarm clock interrupted his thoughts, calling him back to reality.
With a grumble, he raised his hand, hesitating for a second. Just then, Uncle Ben's voice came from outside the door.
"Fifth consecutive day of resisting morning grumpiness, Peter."
"Sixth day, Uncle Ben."
Gently pressing the alarm, Peter bolted upright. Uncle Ben had already opened the door. Benjamin Parker was a man in his forties, a little plump, but still looked robust, nothing like the elderly Uncle Ben from other universes.
"You came home too late yesterday. Your Aunt May doesn't want you going astray when you're about to start high school, hanging around outside like a hooligan."
"Did you tell her I was held up?"
"Forgot the time at the library again? You'll need a better excuse next time."
Uncle Ben smiled and closed the door, adding a reminder: "Hurry up, we still have our morning run."
No matter what kind of Spider-Man he was outside, Peter Parker was still just a 15-year-old high schooler... a soon-to-be high schooler.
"Did you know American high schools are four years long? From fifteen to eighteen."
Peter, accustomed to talking to himself, said this as he got dressed, then quickly went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He shoved his toothbrush into his mouth and continued indistinctly:
"But you probably don't know that Uncle Ben was in the military, joined the Marines, and even served overseas. Pretty awesome, right? I mean, wow."
After a quick wash-up, Peter began his morning exercise. He and Uncle Ben jogged five kilometers together, then returned for Aunt May's breakfast. The purpose of the run wasn't to build stamina, but to better disguise himself as a normal person—otherwise, Peter could easily set world records.
Not only did he help him train to pretend to be ordinary, but Uncle Ben, a retired military man, also taught Peter many things: battlefield reconnaissance techniques, combat training, planning escape routes, and avoiding surveillance and sight. Without this training, it's unlikely Peter would have grown into what he considered a reasonably competent Spider-Man in just five months.
"So, what happened again yesterday?"
"You know, swinging around the New York ruins, finding some criminals, tying them up, and handing them over to the police."
Uncle Ben's face was already red from the strenuous exercise, while Peter seemed quite relaxed, barely even breathing hard.
"But these smugglers are getting fewer and fewer now, Uncle Ben. After all, the Battle of New York was over three months ago, and September is almost here. Maybe I won't have to inspect those things much longer."
Uncle Ben sighed, unsure if he was lamenting that the Department of Damage Control had taken over three months to clear the ruins, or celebrating that they were finally nearing completion.
He also remembered what had happened during this time. Five months ago, his nephew went to a science fair and came back secretive, constantly doing something but hiding it from him and May, making them worry for a long time.
Until one day, Peter restlessly told him the truth: he was bitten by a radioactive mutated spider at the tech expo and gained spider-like superpowers: wall-crawling, jumping ability, danger sensing, and superhuman physical attributes—but he couldn't spin webs.
"I... I want to do something. Maybe I can be a hero, or earn some money with this. What should I do, Uncle Ben?"
Ben originally wanted to tell Peter "with great power comes great responsibility," but he didn't say that. Because Peter was, after all, only a fifteen-year-old child, and he knew that so-called superheroes weren't as glamorous as the reports made them out to be. Just look at the freaks they had to deal with to understand how dangerous it would be.
For Ben, who had no children of his own, Peter was his child, and he didn't want to push him into danger.
He simply said:
"As long as you don't use this power to harm others, Peter, Uncle Ben will support whatever choice you make. I believe May feels the same."
After some more time, a fire broke out near their home. When Uncle Ben took the neighbors to fight the fire, he saw a scene he would never forget: Peter alone, holding a small child, leaping from the second floor and saving the person.
"I... I was so scared, Uncle Ben."
He still remembered later in the car, Peter almost trembling as he told him:
"There were flames all around, and a beam collapsed and hit my arm. It still hurts now. I... I didn't want to go in, Uncle Ben. But I heard that little girl crying, she wanted someone to save her."
"I could save her, I wasn't helpless. I was so scared I wouldn't make it out if I went in... But what if I could have saved her, but she never made it out because I didn't go? I think I'm more afraid of that, more afraid of dreaming at night about the people I could have saved, asking me why I didn't reach out."
Peter didn't choose to become Spider-Man because he wanted to help others, but because he was afraid of not being able to help those he had the power to assist. When he became a superhero, what drove his actions wasn't power, or a self-righteous savior complex.
It was the fear of facing the disappointment of all those begging for help without extending a hand.
At that moment, Benjamin Parker knew that his nephew could become the world's greatest hero.
He began to worry if Peter, like this, would one day be unable to cope, but he chose to support Peter's decision. So, he used his old Marine Corps skills and began training his nephew, right up until now.
Peter also displayed his talent. He was very smart, just like his deceased parents. He even found clues in some scattered manuscripts of his father, Richard, synthesized web fluid, and then made his own web-shooters. They both liked spiders; in that aspect, he was indeed like his father...
"Maybe when the ruins are cleared, those smugglers will just run off on their own. Then I'll just have to help people catch petty thieves, save cats, and stuff like that on my way to and from school..."
Peter ran backward, looking at his seemingly distracted uncle, and asked, "Uncle Ben?"
"Oh, that's great. Your Aunt May won't have to worry about you hanging out with hooligans anymore."
"She knows I wouldn't."
Peter and Ben laughed together, then Peter turned around and ran alongside Uncle Ben.
"How about we get some Turkish kebab when Grand Central is cleared up?"
New York, a certain basement.
A black man in his twenties with dreadlocks walked into a derelict building, carrying a bag—this was his hideout, containing a simple mattress, a desk lamp, and seven or eight companions.
"This is today's haul."
He distributed the money from the bag to his subordinates. One of the younger men asked, "Herman, why is the money getting less and less each day?"
"There's less and less stuff to find in the ruins, and fewer buyers too. Those guys calling themselves A.I.M. pulled out last week, and even the people in Hell's Kitchen aren't buying much anymore. I still have to find others willing to risk a beating from Iron Man to buy those alien things. Not to mention there's been some spandex freak with a web-head bothering us lately."
After Herman, the black man, finished speaking, another subordinate complained, "You shouldn't have hoarded those goods. Now there's nowhere to sell them."
Hearing this, Herman actually laughed.
"Guys, New York's goods are valuable, but they're not infinite. We have to think about the future. I used to be New York's best safecracker, made the best safe-cracking tools."
"But today, thanks to our alien friends, I've created something even more powerful with the part of the goods I kept."
He said, taking out a gun-like object from his shoulder bag. It wasn't complicated, having a blue energy tank connected to a Chitauri battery, a knob, and a trigger.
"What is this?"
"A safecracker, a shockwave generator. This is the knob, you can adjust the output power. Level one, we can knock someone down."
Herman fired at a nearby concrete pillar; the invisible shockwave made the pillar tremble.
"But if you crank the power up to level two..."
A piercing sound came, and the concrete pillar shattered directly.
The younger men instantly became excited.
"Maximum power?!"
"I haven't tried it, but if my calculations are correct, smashing a building probably won't be an issue. So I've set up a safety, it can only go up to level three."
The younger men let out continuous exclamations of "Cool." Most importantly, Herman took out more than just one of these things; he gave one to each of his subordinates.
There were plenty of concrete pillars in the unfinished building, so they could freely test the power of this new device.
And this was Herman's creation, the "safecracker" that could open any safe and vault door.
"Herman!" A subordinate who had tried the new weapon couldn't help but laugh: "What's this thing called? Does it have a name?"
"Of course, it's called the Shocker. Herman Schultz's Shocker."
Herman picked up a Shocker and said confidently:
"Neither that spider freak nor the Avengers can stop us now. Soon, all of New York, no, all of America will know. The best engineers aren't those nerds in universities, or those white dogs with glasses. I will prove one thing to those fools who value education and skin color."
"I, Herman Schultz, have created what they cannot replicate—"
"The Shocker."