Many people wonder how someone trained only in Ripple could fight Peter.
But this is the earliest stage of Spider-Man's mutation — his strength, reflex integration, and sensory processing are still stabilizing.
In Marvel canon, strength levels fluctuate. Even Wilson Fisk (Kingpin), officially rated at superhuman levels in some depictions, can physically challenge Spider-Man through technique, conditioning, and sheer mass.
A Ripple-trained body combined with Star Platinum's precision makes this matchup entirely plausible.
10:00 PMWest City Dock
Moonlight streamed through shattered windows high above the abandoned warehouse, casting fractured light across the concrete floor.
The iron door creaked open.
Peter Parker stepped inside.
"You're three minutes late."
The voice emerged from the shadows.
Peter jumped.
Joren stepped out from behind stacked containers, hands in his pockets, delinquent uniform unchanged.
"Sorry, I—"
"Come here."
He didn't move.
A broken brick lifted from the ground.
It traced a circle roughly two meters wide.
The brick dropped.
"Stand inside."
Peter blinked.
"…Stand inside for what?"
Joren simply looked at him.
Understanding he was here for training, Peter scratched his head and stepped into the circle.
He felt like a ritual offering.
Then he noticed something impossible.
Pebbles floated around Joren.
"What… what is that?"
Magnetic field?
Anti-gravity?
No equipment.
Unseen to Peter, a bluish-purple figure hovered behind Joren.
Star Platinum opened its palm.
Pebbles rested within it.
"Let's start with the basics."
Bang.
A pebble struck Peter's forehead.
He yelped, clutching it.
A pebble fell to the floor.
"Get out of the way."
"…Get out of the way of what?"
Bang.
His shoulder this time.
"I told you. Get out of the way."
Peter understood.
He bent his knees, focusing.
Another pebble flew.
At the instant it launched, a sharp tingling sensation sparked at the back of his head.
He tilted left instinctively.
The pebble grazed his ear and shattered against a container.
It worked.
Joy surged—
Two pebbles flew simultaneously.
Bang! Bang!
"Too slow."
The next thirty minutes were torture.
Pebbles attacked from every angle.
Faster.
Sharper.
Unpredictable.
Peter stopped tracking them with his eyes.
Instead, he began trusting the strange warning sensation flickering through his mind.
A pebble shot toward his face—
He ducked.
Miss.
Danger flared on his right—
He twisted left.
Miss.
His movements grew smoother.
More instinctive.
The final pebble flew.
Peter didn't dodge.
He reached out—
—and caught it mid-air.
Silence filled the warehouse.
He stared at the pebble in his palm, chest heaving.
He did it.
"Not bad," Joren said.
"Adaptation complete. Lesson one finished."
He beckoned.
"Come here. Attack me."
Peter hesitated.
"What?"
"Attack with everything you have."
Joren cracked his knuckles.
Peter hesitated.
He knew his strength.
He could crack brick.
"I might hurt you."
Joren almost laughed.
"How naive."
"If you don't attack, I'll consider it surrender."
Competitive instinct flared.
Peter stepped forward.
"Here I come!"
He charged and threw a straight punch capable of splintering wood.
Joren shifted half a step.
The punch sliced through empty air.
An opening appeared.
Joren's elbow struck Peter's back.
"Ugh!"
A strange vibration spread through his body.
His limbs went numb.
He collapsed forward.
"Too dependent on brute force. Too many openings."
Peter growled and spun into a sweeping kick.
Joren didn't evade.
He raised his leg.
THUD
Impact echoed.
Peter felt like he'd kicked steel.
Shockwaves numbed his leg.
Joren remained unmoved.
Years of Ripple conditioning had hardened muscle, bone, and connective tissue far beyond ordinary limits.
Joren stepped forward.
His hand formed a blade.
Crack.
A precise strike to Peter's shoulder joint.
His arm went limp instantly.
Peter staggered back in horror.
How?
No invisible force.
No supernatural strike.
Just fundamentals.
"Your strength is great," Joren said, approaching.
"But you don't know how to use it."
"You're like a child swinging a loaded weapon."
"Again."
Peter roared and charged.
The outcome did not change.
Thirty minutes later
Peter lay on the cold concrete, bruised, breathless, every muscle screaming.
He had never been this thoroughly dismantled.
Joren stood nearby, breathing steady.
"That's enough for today."
He turned to leave.
"Wait…"
Peter struggled to lift his head.
"How do you do that?"
"That energy… what is it?"
Joren paused.
He did not turn around.
"When you land a punch on me," he said calmly, "I might tell you."
He left the warehouse.
Peter remained on the floor, contemplating his existence.
The next dayMidtown High School
Peter slipped into the classroom wearing a hoodie like a criminal avoiding surveillance.
Gwen Stacy gasped.
"Oh my God, Peter!"
"What happened to your eyes? Did you join an underground fight club?"
Peter forced a smile and immediately regretted it.
Pain flared.
"No… I just fell down the stairs."
Gwen narrowed her eyes.
"You fell… and got perfectly symmetrical black eyes?"
Peter had no answer.
Could he say he'd been dismantled by Joren for half an hour?
At first, Joren had been almost gentle.
Then he stopped holding back.
Peter retreated to his seat.
He glanced cautiously toward the back row.
Joren leaned back in his chair, calmly reading a marine biology encyclopedia.
As if the ruthless instructor from last night had never existed.