5 months later
Queen's
Queens was waking up. The sun crept over rows of brick buildings, painting the city in gold and orange. On the corner of 31st and Ditmars, Peter Parker's alarm blared, and he groaned, rolling out of bed in a tangle of sheets and textbooks. His phone buzzed with reminders—chemistry quiz at 9, photos due for the Bugle by noon, Aunt May's grocery list blinking at him like a warning.
He was late—again.
He scrambled through his morning routine, brushing his teeth while hopping on one foot to pull on his jeans, then wolfing down a slice of cold pizza as he slung his backpack over one shoulder. His camera, battered but reliable, bounced against his chest as he dashed out the door. The hallway was filled with the familiar sounds of neighbors arguing, radios blaring, and the distant bark of a dog. He waved to Mrs. Ramirez, who was already sweeping her stoop, and sprinted for the subway.
The train was packed, the air thick with the scent of coffee, perfume, and city sweat. Peter squeezed in, clutching a pole, earbuds in but music off—always listening, always alert. He caught snippets of conversation: "Did you see the new White Corp billboard? " My uncle says Whitethorn's new car will drive itself—no steering wheel!" "His AI system from last year is running half the city's traffic lights now." Hydra? Weren't they wiped out years ago?"
Peter almost smiled at that last one. Hydra—just a scary story now, a relic from the war, the kind of thing conspiracy theorists blogged about but nobody really believed in anymore. Even at Midtown High, the name was a punchline, not a warning. Only the Avengers and a handful of others knew the truth: some threats never really die.
He stepped off at his stop, weaving through the morning crowd. The city was alive—street vendors hawking bagels and coffee, taxis honking, the distant wail of a siren. Peter's mind raced through the day's challenges: balancing equations, snapping the perfect shot, and, of course, keeping the city safe.
At school, Peter drifted through the halls, half-listening to teachers, half-watching the news tickers on his phone. Midtown High buzzed with talk of the Avengers, of Sokovia, but mostly of the mysterious new tech mogul who'd donated a state-of-the-art science lab to the school. Flash bragged about how he'd "totally met Whitethorn at a gala," but Peter knew he was lying—Flash always was. Liz and Ned debated whether White Corp's new automotive tech could really change the world, or if it was just another billionaire's vanity project.
"Did you see the prototype?" Liz asked, scrolling through her phone. "No steering wheel, no pedals. It's all AI. They say it'll be safer than any human driver."
Ned nodded, eyes wide. "My dad says Whitethorn's last AI system is why the city's traffic is actually moving now. If this car works, it'll be everywhere."
But beneath the routine, something felt different. The city's energy was off—tense, expectant. Peter had heard the rumors: new tech companies rising and falling overnight, White Corp's AI system quietly taking over city infrastructure, and now this—an automotive revolution.
He'd seen the name in headlines and on the lips of Midtown's science teachers. "A visionary," they said. "A disruptor." Some called him the next Tony Stark, others whispered about secrets and shadows. Peter, ever the curious soul, had tried to dig deeper, but White Corp's files were locked up tighter than Stark Industries. Even Ned, with his "guy in the chair" skills, couldn't get past the firewalls. It was as if the company's digital walls were alive, shifting and adapting, always one step ahead.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Whitethorn's arrival meant change—big change. The kind that made his spider-sense itch, even when he was just Peter Parker.
After school, Peter ducked into an alley, checked for bystanders, and slipped on his mask. In an instant, Spider-Man was swinging above the city, the wind in his face and the world at his feet. He soared past billboards advertising White Corp's latest tech—"Tomorrow, Today!"—past newsstands with stories about Sokovia and the Avengers, past the ever-present hum of a city that never truly slept.
He paused atop a water tower, watching the city below. The skyline was dotted with cranes and scaffolding—White Corp's new research facility rising like a glass-and-steel promise. Peter watched as a convoy of black SUVs snaked through the streets below. White Corp logos gleamed on their doors, the vehicles moving with the precision of a presidential motorcade. Security teams in dark suits scanned the sidewalks, earpieces glinting in the afternoon sun.
Peter's curiosity flared. He crouched low, zooming in with his camera. "JARVIS, you there?" he whispered, half-joking, half-hopeful. No answer, of course. He was on his own.
He snapped a few photos for the Bugle, then listened in as the convoy stopped outside the new research facility. Men in suits hustled inside, and for a moment, Peter caught a glimpse of Ethan Whitethorn himself—tall, sharp-eyed, moving with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much power he held. There was something about the way he paused, scanning the crowd, as if he could sense the city watching him back. Whitethorn's gaze swept the rooftops, and for a split second, Peter felt as if those eyes had found him.
Peter's spider-sense tingled—not with danger, but with possibility. He wondered what it would be like to meet Whitethorn, to talk science, to ask about the future. But he also wondered what secrets the man was hiding, and whether those secrets would help or hurt the city he loved.
He watched as Whitethorn disappeared into the building, the doors closing behind him with a hiss. The security detail lingered, eyes sharp, and Peter felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just another tech launch—something bigger was brewing. He could feel it in the way the city seemed to hold its breath.
As the sun set, Spider-Man swung home, his mind buzzing with questions. He paused atop the Queensboro Bridge, watching the city lights flicker on one by one. The world was changing, and Peter Parker—student, photographer, hero—was determined to find his place in it.
But for now, he had homework to finish, a sandwich to eat, and a promise to keep: with great power comes great responsibility. And with Ethan Whitethorn in town, that responsibility just got a whole lot heavier.
Back in his room, Peter pinned the photos of the convoy to his wall, next to clippings of the Avengers and scribbled notes about "White Corp: What Are They Really Building?" He stared at Whitethorn's face, trying to read the secrets in his eyes. The city outside his window glowed with possibility and danger, the hum of traffic and distant sirens a lullaby for the restless.
"Who are you?" Peter whispered to the empty room.
======
The Next Day
Field Trip to White Corp
The bell rang, echoing through the halls of Midtown High. Peter Parker hurried to his science class, weaving through clusters of students buzzing with the usual morning gossip. The air was thick with the scent of floor polish and cafeteria pancakes, lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking on linoleum. He slid into his seat just as Mr. Callahan, their wiry, energetic science teacher, clapped his hands for attention.
"Alright, everyone, eyes up!" Mr. Callahan grinned, his tie already askew and his hair sticking up in wild tufts. "Books away. Today, we're taking science out of the classroom."
A ripple of excitement ran through the room. Chairs scraped, whispers darted from desk to desk. Peter glanced at Ned, who shrugged, just as confused but already grinning with anticipation.
"Uh, Mr. Callahan?" Peter raised his hand, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Where are we going?"
Mr. Callahan's eyes sparkled, and he leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "Today is the White Corp Expo, Parker. The whole city's talking about it. We've been invited to see the latest tech and meet some of the minds behind it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, folks. Grab your things and head to the bus!"
The class erupted in chatter and excitement. Flash Thompson immediately started bragging about how he'd get a selfie with Ethan Whitethorn. "He follows me on Insta, you know," Flash lied, flashing his phone to anyone who'd look. Liz and Betty gushed about how "divine" Whitethorn was, passing around a magazine cover with his chiseled features and sharp blue eyes.
"He's like a science god," Betty sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Did you see his interview last week? He's so smart and so… dreamy."
Liz nodded, eyes wide with admiration. "My sister says he's even better looking in person. And he's, like, changing the world. Did you see the new car? It's all over Insta. My cousin says her friend's dad is on the waiting list."
Even the guys couldn't help but be impressed. "He's basically the new Tony Stark," Ned whispered to Peter as they filed out, his voice a mix of awe and envy. "But younger. And, you know, not Iron Man. Yet."
Peter tried to play it cool, but inside he was just as curious. He'd read every article he could find on Whitethorn, watched every press conference, and still couldn't figure out what made the man tick. Was he really as brilliant as everyone said? Or was there something more beneath the perfect smile and flawless reputation?
The hallway was a river of students, all flowing toward the front doors. Teachers called out reminders, backpacks thudded against legs, and the buzz of anticipation was almost electric. Outside, the yellow school buses gleamed in the morning sun, engines rumbling as students piled in, voices echoing with excitement and speculation.
Peter snagged a window seat, camera in his lap, as the city blurred past. He watched the skyline shift from the familiar brick and bustle of Queens to the gleaming towers of Manhattan. Billboards for White Corp's new self-driving car flashed by, and Peter caught glimpses of digital ads for the expo—Ethan Whitethorn's face everywhere, smiling, confident, impossibly perfect.
Ned leaned over, eyes wide. "Do you think we'll actually get to meet him? Like, shake his hand?"
Peter shrugged, but his heart beat a little faster. "Maybe. Or at least see him up close. I just want to see what he's really like—not just the guy on magazine covers."
As the bus turned toward the gleaming towers of White Corp, Peter felt his spider-sense prickle—not with danger, but with the electric promise of discovery. The campus loomed ahead, all glass and steel and possibility, banners fluttering in the breeze. The closer they got, the more Peter felt it: today was going to be different. Today, he might just see the future.
The bus pulled up to the White Corp campus, and Peter pressed his face to the window, eyes wide with awe. The expo was already in full swing, and the scene outside looked more like a vision of the future than anything he'd ever seen in Queens.
The plaza outside the main building had been transformed into a sprawling, high-tech festival. Sleek white tents and glass pavilions shimmered in the late morning sun, their surfaces reflecting the city skyline and the endless blue above. Banners bearing the White Corp logo—an elegant, minimalist "W"—fluttered from every lamppost, and enormous digital screens looped highlight reels of dazzling inventions: cars gliding silently down city streets, robotic arms assembling intricate machinery, holographic medical diagrams spinning in midair.
Crowds of students, reporters, and tech enthusiasts milled about, their voices blending into a lively hum of excitement. The air buzzed with anticipation and the faint whir of drones zipping overhead, capturing footage for live streams and news outlets. Holographic displays projected spinning models of self-driving cars, robotic exoskeletons, and next-gen medical devices, each one drawing clusters of wide-eyed onlookers. The scent of fresh coffee, buttery pastries, and sizzling street food drifted from a row of food trucks lining the walkways, tempting even the most focused science nerds.
Security was tight but discreet—men and women in tailored suits with earpieces, blending in with the crowd but always watching. White Corp staff in crisp uniforms greeted visitors with practiced smiles, handing out glossy brochures and branded lanyards that shimmered with embedded microchips. Each lanyard, Peter noticed, doubled as a digital pass, lighting up with a soft blue glow as students passed through the entry gates.
Peter stepped off the bus and was immediately swept up in the energy. The plaza was alive with movement and color. Students from other schools clustered around interactive exhibits, laughing as they tested virtual reality goggles or raced miniature AI cars on a neon-lit track. A group of girls squealed as a life-sized hologram of Ethan Whitethorn appeared on a raised stage, welcoming everyone to the expo with a charming, pre-recorded message. The hologram was so lifelike that for a moment, Peter almost believed Whitethorn was standing right there, his signature smile and piercing blue eyes captivating the crowd.
"He's even more handsome in 3D," Betty whispered, clutching Liz's arm. Liz giggled, snapping a selfie with the hologram in the background.
Peter wandered through the exhibits, camera in hand, trying to capture the scale and spectacle. He paused at a display where a robotic arm assembled a complex puzzle in seconds, its movements smooth and precise. Nearby, a group of engineers demonstrated a prototype of White Corp's new self-driving car, its doors opening with a soft hiss as it glided to a stop on a test track. The car's interior was all glass and touchscreens, no steering wheel in sight.
Ned nudged Peter, eyes wide. "Dude, look at that! It's like something out of a sci-fi movie."
Peter nodded, snapping photos. "Yeah. It's… incredible."
He watched as a group of younger students tried out a medical scanner that projected a 3D image of their bones and muscles in real time. At another booth, a White Corp scientist explained how their new AI system was already optimizing traffic flow in half the city, reducing accidents and cutting commute times.
Everywhere Peter looked, there was something new, something impossible made real. The whole event felt like a glimpse into tomorrow—a place where science was celebrated, and the impossible seemed just within reach.
Flash Thompson strutted by, loudly declaring that he was going to get Whitethorn's autograph. "He's basically the Elon Musk of our generation, but cooler," Flash boasted, drawing eye rolls from the other students.
Peter couldn't help but be impressed. He snapped a few more photos, but he knew nothing could quite do it justice. The anticipation in the air was electric, and Peter felt it in his bones: today was going to be anything but ordinary.
Somewhere inside, Ethan Whitethorn was preparing to unveil his latest breakthroughs. As Peter gazed up at the main stage, where a countdown clock ticked toward the keynote, he felt his spider-sense prickle—not with danger, but with the sense that he was standing at the edge of something world-changing.
He took a deep breath, letting the energy of the expo wash over him. For a moment, he was just another kid in a crowd, swept up in the wonder of science and the promise of the future.
Peter wandered through the expo, wide-eyed and breathless. Everywhere he looked, the future was unfolding before him—robotic arms assembling prosthetics with surgical precision, their movements so fluid they seemed almost alive; drones buzzing overhead, swooping down to deliver medical supplies to simulated disaster zones, their cargo bays opening with a soft whir and releasing tiny parachutes to the applause of onlookers. Interactive displays lined the walkways, each one drawing crowds of students and adults alike. At one booth, a digital map showed how White Corp's AI had already reduced traffic accidents across the city, with glowing green lines tracing the safest routes in real time.
Peter paused at a demonstration where a tiny sensor, no bigger than a coin, detected a concealed knife in a volunteer's backpack. The screen lit up with a gentle chime, and the crowd murmured in amazement as the security staff explained how this technology could make schools and public spaces safer than ever before. Nearby, another booth showcased new brake technology for everyday cars, promising to cut stopping distances in half, even on slick, rain-soaked roads. A test rig let visitors slam on a pedal and watch as a model car screeched to a halt in a fraction of the distance of a standard vehicle.
Peter snapped photos, his mind racing with possibilities. All this tech—so much of it designed to save lives, to make the world safer. For a moment, he forgot about homework, about Spider-Man, about everything except the wonder of what was possible. He could see the excitement on the faces around him—kids dreaming of building the next big thing, parents imagining a safer world for their families, teachers marveling at the educational opportunities.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The crowd's chatter faded to a hush, replaced by a low, expectant buzz. A single, brilliant beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the center of the main stage. The White Corp logo shimmered overhead, projected in dazzling 3D above the crowd.
A figure stepped into the spotlight—tall, confident, every eye in the room drawn to him. Ethan Whitethorn. He wore a tailored suit that caught the light just so, his presence commanding yet approachable. The room seemed to lean in as one.
"Is everyone having fun?" Ethan's voice rang out, warm and charismatic, carrying easily to the farthest corners of the hall. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, the energy palpable.
He smiled, letting the excitement build. "I hope you've all had a chance to see what we've been working on. From medical breakthroughs—like our new portable heart monitors and AI-assisted diagnostics—to smarter traffic systems that are already making New York safer. We've developed new ways to detect weapons in public spaces, and our latest brake technology will make even the most basic cars safer for everyone."
As he spoke, holographic images appeared in the air beside him: a heart monitor the size of a wristwatch, a city grid glowing with AI-managed traffic, a school hallway with invisible security fields. The crowd murmured, impressed. Peter could feel the energy in the air, the sense that something big was coming.
"But," Ethan continued, his tone shifting, "there's something else. Something White Corp has been working on for many months. Something that will change the way you think about transportation forever."
The stage rumbled beneath their feet. Panels slid open with a deep, mechanical hum, and with a dramatic hiss, a sleek, futuristic car rose from beneath the floor, bathed in blue and white light. Its lines were sharp and elegant, the body a seamless blend of glass and metal, hovering inches above the stage on a cushion of invisible energy. The crowd gasped, phones flashing as everyone tried to capture the moment.
"Introducing the VEX R12," Ethan announced, his voice echoing with pride. "The world's first production hovercar. Not only is it the fastest vehicle we've ever built, but it's also the first of its kind—capable of vertical takeoff and landing, zero emissions, and a top speed that will leave every other car in the dust."
The VEX R12 gleamed under the spotlights, its doors opening upward like the wings of a bird. Ethan walked around the car, his hand gliding over its polished surface. "The R12 features our new per-hover technology—personal hover engines that allow for smooth, silent flight above city streets or open highways. It's equipped with advanced AI navigation, collision avoidance, and a battery system that can recharge in under fifteen minutes. The interior is fully customizable, with panoramic smart glass, biometric security, and voice-activated controls."
He paused, letting the awe settle in. "But that's not all. Today, I'm also introducing three more models in the VEX line: the VEX S8, our sport edition—sleek, agile, and built for thrill-seekers; the VEX LX, a luxury hover sedan with comfort and style for families and executives; and the VEX C2, a compact, affordable hovercar for everyday drivers."
The stage shifted again, and three more vehicles rose into view—each one distinct, each one impossibly futuristic. The S8 shimmered in metallic red, its aerodynamic curves promising speed and excitement. The LX exuded elegance, its interior visible through tinted glass, plush seats and ambient lighting inviting passengers to relax. The C2 was playful and compact, its bright colors and rounded edges making it approachable for city life.
Ethan smiled, his eyes shining with pride. "This is just the beginning. At White Corp, we believe the future belongs to everyone. And today, that future takes flight."
The crowd erupted in applause, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. Reporters jostled for position, students cheered, and Peter, heart pounding, knew he was witnessing history. He snapped photo after photo, already imagining the headlines and the possibilities. For a moment, he let himself dream—of a world where technology could lift everyone up, where the impossible was just the start.
And somewhere deep inside, Peter wondered what it would be like to soar above the city, not just as Spider-Man, but as a passenger in the future Ethan Whitethorn had just unveiled.