It started with a creak on the windowsill.
Ash didn't think much of it at first. May's house was old—floors groaned, radiators hissed, and the wind had a way of playing tricks on loose siding.
But that night, while he was sketching a new design for the Mark Zero chest piece, he felt it. The unmistakable feeling of being watched.
He turned slowly toward the window.
And saw a boy's face. Round. Curious. A little too wide-eyed for someone spying through glass.
Ash blinked. The boy blinked back.
Then vanished.
Ash bolted to the window and yanked it open.
Silence.
Nothing but the faint rustle of leaves and the distant bark of a dog.
Still, something in his chest stirred.
He'd recognized the face.
---
Peter Benjamin Parker.
Ash had seen it in photographs on the hallway wall a dozen times. May's little nephew. A sweet kid, maybe five or six years old. Too small to be sneaking around at night. Too gentle to spy.
But Ash had seen it in his eyes—the other thing.
That flicker.
That quiet hum that whispered potential.
The Spider hadn't chosen him yet. The bite was still years away.
But the threads? They were already starting to weave.
---
The next morning at breakfast, Ash tested the waters.
"Hey, May?"
"Mm?" She was flipping pancakes, humming softly to the radio.
"When's Peter coming over again?"
She glanced at him, surprised. "You like having him around?"
Ash gave a noncommittal shrug. "He's quiet."
May laughed. "You say that like it's a compliment."
"It is."
"He's coming this weekend. Ben's working nights and I offered to watch him." Her voice softened. "He likes you, you know. Says you're smart."
Ash's pencil froze mid-sketch. "He said that?"
"Yesterday. After you fixed that broken toy of his. You didn't even tell me you did."
Ash didn't respond. He didn't have to. The toy had been half-shattered—a cheap plastic action figure with one arm snapped off. Ash had repaired it with a drop of resin and a soldered joint, hiding the seam under fresh paint. Nothing advanced.
But Peter had noticed.
He always noticed.
---
That weekend, Peter arrived in a red hoodie two sizes too big, trailing a backpack full of books and Legos. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his nose ran a little, but his eyes lit up when he saw Ash.
"Hi!"
Ash raised an eyebrow. "You always this loud?"
Peter grinned. "Only when I like someone."
"Yikes."
May swatted Ash lightly as she took Peter's coat. "Play nice."
They spent the first hour in the living room. Ash worked on a disassembled radio while Peter built a tiny spaceship from bricks beside him. Occasionally, Peter would glance sideways, watching Ash's fingers move with unnatural precision.
"You fix things without looking," Peter said at one point.
"I do look," Ash replied. "Just not with my eyes."
Peter furrowed his brow like a scientist. "That's weird."
"I'm weird."
Peter didn't deny it.
He just smiled.
---
Later that evening, while May was making dinner, Peter followed Ash out back toward the garage. He said nothing as Ash opened the heavy door and stepped inside, pausing only when he realized Peter had followed him in.
"You're not supposed to be in here," Ash said.
Peter just looked around in awe. "Is this your lab?"
"No. It's my grave."
Peter tilted his head. "Huh?"
Ash sighed. "It's a joke."
Peter walked over to the workbench, eyes wide at the scattered tools, broken tech, and crude armor prototypes.
"You're building a robot?"
Ash didn't respond.
Peter reached out to touch a palm plate and froze.
His fingers trembled above it—just shy of contact—as if his body knew it wasn't ready.
Ash saw it.
The tingle.
The almost-instinct.
He stepped forward and gently moved Peter's hand away. "Not yet."
Peter looked up. "Will I get to help one day?"
Ash studied him for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "One day, you will."
---
That night, Ash added a new name to his journal under Long-Term Variables.
> Parker, Peter — Status: Dormant. Spider potential. Mutation latent. Estimated Event Window: 5–7 years.
Then, after a long pause, he wrote one more line:
> Potential Corp Candidate. If awakened early? Dangerous. But worth it.
---
He didn't see Camryn again until the next day. She was leaning against the school fence after class, twirling her copper coin like always.
"He saw it, didn't he?" she said without looking at him.
Ash tensed. "Saw what?"
Camryn turned her gaze toward him—sharp, knowing. "The web. He doesn't know it, but it's already there. Threading around his life. I can feel it on him. Like static."
Ash said nothing.
"Question is," she added, "do you pull him in now? Or let the spider sleep?"
Ash watched the traffic go by.
Then whispered, almost to himself, "Spiders always wake up. Eventually."