Chapter 9: A Normal Life?
Returning to Midtown High after everything that had happened wasn't easy.
Everything looked the same—the cracked tiles in the hallway, the lockers that never closed properly, the same faint smell of floor polish and cafeteria pizza—but I had changed.
No matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise, I wasn't just Peter Parker anymore.
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"Hey, look who finally decided to show up."
I barely had time to close my locker before Flash Thompson's loud voice rang out from behind me. He swaggered over with his usual cocky grin, a football slung under one arm.
"Where've you been, Parker? Witness Protection?" Flash snorted. "You missed the chem quiz. And the math one. And gym."
Before I could even come up with a half-decent excuse, other voices chimed in.
"Yeah, you totally vanished."
"People were saying you dropped out or something."
I forced a laugh, keeping my tone light.
"Family stuff," I said, offering the vaguest explanation I could muster. "You know how it is."
That seemed to satisfy most of them, but the whispers around me were harder to ignore.
"I heard there's some masked guy swinging around town lately…"
"Yeah, my cousin swears she saw him last week stopping a mugging."
"Spider something, right?"
I smiled faintly to myself, but quickly schooled my expression.
Even now, Spider-Man was becoming an urban myth—but none of them had a clue it was me under the mask.
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My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice behind me.
"Mr. Parker."
I turned, only to find myself face-to-face with Dr. Curt Connors, our new substitute science teacher. He was tall and sharp-featured, dressed in a clean white lab coat with the right sleeve neatly folded where his missing arm ended.
He looked me over with a keen eye, as if he already knew more about me than he let on.
"Glad to see you back," he said in a calm, measured tone. "You've missed quite a bit."
I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that."
"You can make it up," he replied, gesturing toward the classroom door. "Today's topic might interest you."
---
Inside, Dr. Connors stood at the front of the room, writing "Regeneration" across the board in bold, neat letters.
"Today," he began, his voice steady and confident, "we're discussing regeneration. It's one of the most fascinating natural phenomena in biology."
The class quieted as he continued.
"Certain species can regrow lost limbs or organs. Salamanders, for instance, can regenerate entire limbs. Lizards can regrow their tails. The implications of such research for human medicine are…enormous."
He glanced at me, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary.
"Imagine being able to regrow a damaged organ, or a severed limb. What we call irreversible injury could become little more than a temporary inconvenience."
I could feel a chill crawl down my spine, despite myself.
I already knew where this was going.
Dr. Connors' passion wasn't just academic. He had a personal stake in this field—and if my memories of the comics were right, it wasn't going to end well.
Still, I couldn't help but raise my hand.
"Wouldn't that kind of regeneration carry risks?" I asked, playing innocent. "Like…mutations?"
Connors gave a thin smile, impressed.
"Excellent question, Mr. Parker. Yes—unchecked regeneration does present potential risks. But with the right controls, the benefits far outweigh them."
His eyes gleamed as he spoke—not with madness, but with hope.
"That's why I work closely with Oscorp's labs on these projects," Connors added. "Together, we're exploring ways to apply this safely."
Oscorp.
Of course.
---
As the lecture continued, I found myself drifting.
It wasn't boredom—the subject fascinated me, even without knowing what Connors would eventually become.
But I couldn't shake the growing pressure in my chest.
Balancing Peter Parker's life was exhausting enough—but between school, homework, and night patrols, I barely had time to breathe.
I wasn't just juggling two identities.
I was playing with fire.
---
The rest of the school day passed in a blur—more questions about my absence, more stares from classmates, more quiet rumors swirling around the mysterious figure swinging across the city.
When the final bell rang, I bolted.
---
That night, after dinner, I donned the suit again and slipped out into the cool air, webbing across the rooftops under the cover of darkness.
I needed this.
Not the adrenaline.
The quiet.
The space between the city's heartbeat.
---
But peace never lasted long.
As I swung across the warehouse district, I heard the crash—loud and unmistakable.
I landed on a nearby rooftop, peering down at the wreckage below.
A delivery truck had been flipped onto its side, cargo spilling across the street.
Thugs scrambled to gather crates, but that wasn't what made my stomach drop.
It was him.
A towering figure stood in the center of the chaos—his skin pale and tough as stone, his body thick with muscle.
Eyes glowing faintly beneath the streetlights.
Tombstone.
He raised his head slowly, sensing me before I even made a sound.
"So," he rumbled, his voice like grinding gravel, "you're the little spider everyone's buzzing about."
He took a step forward, each movement making the pavement crack beneath his feet.
I froze, instincts screaming.
He wasn't here by accident.
He was here for me.
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TO BE CONTINUED…
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