Absolute Spider-man

As soon as Peter set foot on the street, he looked both ways, unsure of where he was supposed to go. With no better option, he stood still and closed his eyes, letting the memories flow through his mind. The route began to take shape in his thoughts, almost like a map of where he needed to go and which streets to take.

Once he finished analyzing the memories and felt sure about the route, he dropped his skateboard. He truly hoped that, along with the mental memory, he had also regained muscle memory. Without further hesitation, he started skating toward the high school. Fortunately, he had recovered his muscle memory too, because he could skate with a level of skill and fluidity that only someone with years of experience could manage.

It took him quite a while to reach the high school entrance. Peter estimated it had taken around 30 minutes. He stepped off his board and picked it up, looking at the entrance. From there, he could already see a crowd of students scattered around, filling the place with noise.

"Midtown School of Science and Technology," Peter said, reading the name of the institution, amazed by the size of the place. It looked more like a college campus than a regular high school. The building was huge, and if his memories were right, it was equipped with technology and resources most real universities could only dream of.

Peter quickly shook off the amazement he felt and got back on his skateboard, riding it all the way to the main building entrance. Once inside, a familiar sight greeted him: now this looked like a classic high school—with rows of lockers, noisy hallways, and groups of teens chatting, some of them straight-up yelling.

"Please, no more surprises," Peter said almost like a mantra as he walked toward what he remembered was his locker. Muscle memory helped more here than mental memory; he was able to move naturally through the hallways, occasionally dodging other students. When he finally reached his locker, he quickly searched his mind for the combination, opened it, and stuffed his things inside. Then, he took out the yearbook camera they had given him. If today was supposed to be the day of the field trip, he wouldn't be needing his books.

"PARKER!" And just as Peter had finished and was about to close the locker, someone appeared behind him and slammed it shut with such force he could've sworn it nearly broke. Before he could react, a strong hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around abruptly until his back was against the lockers.

In front of him stood a blond teenager with a buzz cut, a head taller and nearly twice as muscular as Peter. At his side were two other goons, just as built—if not a little less.

"What's up, Flash," said Peter, who, for some reason, didn't feel any fear despite the situation—even though his mind told him he should be scared. After all, this was Flash Thompson, the legendary high school bully of Peter Parker.

"Where is it?" Flash asked, leaning his face close to Peter's in an attempt to intimidate him.

"Where's what?" Peter replied, genuinely confused about what Flash was looking for.

"My trigonometry homework! You said it'd be done today!" Flash barked, raising his voice in anger.

That was when the memory hit him—apparently, this Peter had a little underground business going on with several guys from the football, basketball, baseball, and rugby teams... well, pretty much every sports team. He did their homework in exchange for $500 a head. Along with that memory, he also remembered exactly where he kept all his money.

"That's useful," Peter thought, recalling the part about the money.

"Well, Parker?" Flash snapped again, slamming the locker behind Peter's head.

Peter quickly searched through his memories for a way out of the situation. If there wasn't one, he'd have to rely on his questionable acting skills. Fortunately, he found an answer.

"I've got it done. But I want the rest of the money," Peter said with a confidence he never expected to have when talking to Flash. It seemed like this body was already used to dealing with him—or maybe with something worse than Flash.

Peter decided not to think too hard about that.

"How about you just give it to me now, and I don't beat you up," Flash threatened.

Peter blinked, almost expecting that response—but he already had a comeback prepared.

"Sure, and then you can explain to the rest of the football, rugby, and basketball teams why I'm refusing to do their homework because of you," Peter said, locking eyes with the two other football players standing next to Flash. Their once-hostile expressions quickly shifted into ones full of doubt.

Peter had learned that, thanks to his deal with most of the sports teams, he had built a kind of anti-bullying safety net. Since most of the team members were a bunch of idiots who had gotten in through family connections or dumb luck, they needed Peter to keep their grades just high enough to stay on the teams.

Which meant that if Peter refused to keep selling homework, a lot of people would suffer for it. So if anyone tried to use him without paying, harassed him, or laid a hand on him, all Peter had to do was drop the threat that he'd stop doing their work—and that person would suddenly find themselves with every athlete in school as an enemy.

It had already happened three times before with senior year students. The first two times, it didn't even take three days before the rugby team handed the guys over tied up beneath the football bleachers.

The third time, Peter let it go on for a week—and the next thing he heard was that the guy had been found so badly beaten he had to be rushed to the ER.

Peter made sure that news spread through the whole school by paying a couple of cheerleaders, so now everyone knew he was basically untouchable—at least when it came to students.

"So, Flash, what do you say? You give me my money, and I give you your homework—or we keep playing the bully game, and then you'll have to watch your back for the rest of the year," said Peter, his voice full of marked confidence as he took a step forward, forcing Flash to step back.

"Dude, just pay him," said one of Flash's goons, now unsure whether continuing was a good idea.

Flash shot him an angry look, probably because he wasn't getting his way. He licked his lips and looked around, maybe checking for any teachers nearby. Then, he reached into his jacket and pulled out some bills.

Peter took them without hesitation and pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few taps, and a notification pinged on Flash's phone.

"All set. Always a pleasure doing business with you," Peter said with a mocking smile as he walked between the three athletes.

"This isn't over, Parker!" Flash shouted, pointing at him as he walked away.

"Really? 'Cause to me, it kinda seems like it is," Peter said, turning around and walking backward in one last mocking gesture.

"Alright, that felt good," said Peter as he looked at the money Flash had given him. He quickly counted it—it was 400 dollars—and stuffed it into his pocket along with what Uncle Ben had given him that morning. "Now, let's see what's next."

Peter continued walking through the hallways. The bell hadn't rung yet, so he still had time to reach his classroom before heading to the bus that would take them to Oscorp. Peter felt nervous—not about visiting Oscorp itself, but because of what it meant: the spider bite, and the powers that would come with it.

He wasn't even sure where exactly he was supposed to stand, or if he had to do something specific before getting bitten. And even if he did manage to get bitten, he didn't know how his body would react. In the movies, Peter just got a fever or something for a couple of hours, and the next day he woke up with powers.

But with all the variations in this universe, Peter seriously doubted it would go the same way for him. He just hoped he was wrong and wouldn't end up in a coma or missing a leg.

Peter was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice someone approaching from behind—until they were right on top of him.

Suddenly, a muscular arm wrapped around his neck, stopping him in his tracks.

"Peter, my brother! I thought you'd died—you didn't answer any of my messages!" said the guy, releasing him as Peter quickly turned around to see who it was.

He recognized him instantly—and felt his heart sink a little. After all, this was probably one of the few real friends he had left here—or anywhere, really.

Harry Osborn was about the same height, with darker brown hair, striking green eyes, and the classic confident smile that always lit up his face.

"Hey, uh… hey, Harry," Peter said nervously. Unlike with Flash—where most of their interactions, according to his memories, had been about power and intimidation—things with Harry felt more personal, more familiar. Peter had literally run out of the house that morning because he didn't know how to act around people who already knew him, and now, not even half an hour in, he'd run into another one. Maybe, along with the memories and the body, he'd also inherited the legendary Parker luck.

"You okay? You seem a little different today," Harry said, tilting his head as he looked at him closely.

At that, Peter felt a pit form in his stomach.

"Am I that bad that he already noticed something's off?" Peter thought, swallowing hard.

"I'm fine, really," Peter said quickly, forcing a smile to divert Harry's attention. "I just couldn't sleep well last night from all the excitement about the field trip."

At that, Harry seemed to drop his analysis and just chuckled under his breath.

"The excitement about the field trip—or maybe it was the gorgeous redhead living in your house?" he said with a mischievous grin, and at that moment Peter felt a small twinge of annoyance.

Of course, Harry knew Mary Jane—he'd been to Peter's house several times. But Peter's irritation wasn't because Harry mentioned her, it was because…

"By the way, did Teresa get the flowers I sent her?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

…It was because his best friend had fallen hopelessly in love with his new older sister.

Peter quickly searched through his memories and found the answer his friend was looking for.

"She burned them," Peter said flatly.

"Again?" Harry replied, striking a pose like The Thinker. "I guess I'll have to rethink my strategy once more. But mark my words, Peter: one day, you and I will be brothers—when I start dating your sister."

"Whatever you say, Casanova," Peter said with amusement at his friend's bold declaration.

From that point on, the conversation began to flow naturally, with Peter slowly getting more comfortable with the rhythm of it.

"Excited to see my dad again?" Harry asked, giving Peter a light elbow to the side.

"About as much as I'd love getting kicked in the balls," Peter thought as he forced a fake smile. "Of course! It's always a pleasure seeing your dad."

Harry just let out a light laugh at the reply. "I'm telling you, man, sometimes it feels like my dad's happier to see you than me. I swear, if it weren't for your aunt and uncle, he'd adopt you. Meanwhile, he ignores me most of the time."

"You don't give your dad enough credit," Peter said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he felt. It was painful trying to convince his best friend that his father wasn't so bad—especially knowing the half of it. If Harry knew even a fraction of the horrible things Norman had done, especially to him, he'd probably think being ignored was the best-case scenario.

"Well, him ignoring me does have its upsides," Harry said.

"Like what?" Peter asked.

In response to the question, the millionaire heir pulled out an all-black card with golden lettering. "Like, for example, being able to use his unlimited credit card. What do you say—limousine trip to Atlantic City, weekend in a five-star hotel suite, gambling until we pass out?"

"Tempting offer—going on a hedonistic weekend with you," Peter said with a grin. "But I have to work at the shop today."He was genuinely tempted, but he wasn't sure how his body would react once the spider bit him, so he figured it was better to keep the weekend free to deal with the aftermath. He just hoped he wouldn't grow two extra pairs of arms.

"You know that's technically child labor, right?" Harry joked.

"Uncle Ben calls it 'character building,'" Peter replied with a smile, making air quotes with his fingers.

Both boys laughed, and the conversation ended as they finally reached their classroom. They stepped in quickly; the room was half full, and the teacher hadn't arrived yet, so there was no rush to sit down.

Peter headed to his seat and sat quickly, planning to use the time to go over some of the body's memories.At least, that was the plan—until he heard someone clear their throat.

Peter turned and saw a girl sitting next to him, a little shorter than him, with striking blue eyes and silky blonde hair that fell down her back. And just like before, as soon as he saw her, her name popped into his head as if a giant glowing sign had appeared over it.

Felicia Hardy — Peter's classmate, top student, debate club captain, and a thorn in his side from the very day they met.

"Can I help you?" Peter asked, unsure of her intentions.

"You're late," Felicia replied flatly, without even looking up from her book.

Peter turned to look at the digital clock on the wall to check the time. He'd arrived on time, so he didn't understand what she meant.

"What are you talking about? I'm on time," Peter said, confused.

"Look, Parker, I don't care if you're busy playing house with the redhead who lives in your place, but I do expect you to take your responsibilities a little more seriously," Felicia said.

Felicia looked at Peter with an annoyed, irritated expression. If Peter hadn't felt fear before when facing Flash, now he was definitely feeling it.

"Excuse me?" Peter replied reflexively, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't need your excuse," Felicia said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling their faces close. "What I need is your ass in the debate club room early. The Academic Triathlon tryouts are coming up, and despite my protests, we're partners—so I want you to drop your little redhead, grow a pair, and be there tomorrow at 6 a.m. sharp. Got it, bitch?"

The sheer suddenness of the moment left Peter completely frozen. He couldn't do anything more than nod his head up and down in confirmation.

"Good," Felicia said, releasing him—only to grab her stuff and get up to switch seats.

Peter just stared as she walked away, eyes following her, mouth still hanging open from the interaction.

"What the hell…?" Peter muttered. He had just finished threatening Flash Thompson—the school's top bully—and now this shorter, thinner girl had just manhandled him and called him a bitch.

"Seriously, man, I don't know how someone that sexy can be such a bitch," Harry said casually. He was now sitting in the very seat Felicia had just left, startling Peter—who had been so fixated on the platinum-blonde girl he hadn't noticed his friend sit down.

"I'm telling you, if she wasn't a family friend, I wouldn't even talk to her—no matter how hot she is."

That brought more memories flooding into Peter's mind, making Harry's words make sense. Felicia's family owned one of the largest law firms in New York, with Oscorp as one of its main clients. They also ran the Hardy Foundation, a world-renowned charity organization.

Peter blinked a few times, snapping back to the present—he could piece those memories together later. "You're lucky she barely even looks at you," Peter said jokingly.

Harry caught the tone and smirked. "What can I say? Luck's on my side."

Before they could continue, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. The students who hadn't yet sat down scrambled to their seats. Moments later, their teacher, Mr. Warren, walked in through the door.

"Alright class, I hope you're all excited for today, because I sure am!" said the science teacher, walking through the classroom while glancing around to see his students' faces. "And do you know why that is?"

The teacher fell silent, waiting for the class to respond, but when everyone remained quiet, he seemed a little discouraged for a moment before regaining his previous excitement.

"Because today we're going to..." said Mr. Warren, beginning the sentence and prompting the students to finish it.

"Go on a field trip," they all said in a nearly perfect, tired-sounding chorus.

"And where to?" the teacher asked again.

"To Oscorp Industries," they replied in unison once more.

"That's right! And it's all thanks to our outstanding student Harry!" The teacher then pointed to Harry, who was sitting next to Peter. Neither of them had been expecting it, and the mentioned teen seemed to grow nervous under the attentive gaze of the entire class. "Whose father generously offered the trip—so please, everyone, give him a round of applause!"

At his words, a robotic and weary applause spread across the room, only increasing the embarrassment of young Osborn.

"Hang in there, it's almost over," Peter murmured quietly in an attempt to help his friend.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have the whole class looking at you with disdain right now," Harry replied, still waving awkwardly.

"Now," Mr. Warren continued, making a gesture to quiet the class, "please line up in an orderly fashion and follow me—the buses should be waiting for us already."

Peter quickly got up from his desk at the order and, not very discreetly, ran to the front of the line. No one seemed surprised, considering how excited he'd been about this trip all month.

When they exited the school and started down the stairs, the bus that would take them was already waiting at the entrance.

Peter felt his heart begin to beat faster. Soon, he would go from being just Peter Parker to Spider-Man, and he didn't know if he was excited or scared—but he knew one thing: he wasn't going to back down.