Chapter 8
I spent the rest of the morning practicing in that basement. Flying, jumping, testing the armor's strength. It was awesome.
Turns out I could punch a dent in the concrete wall if I wasn't careful. Yeah, I had to explain that one to Mom later, but whatever. Worth it.
The flight thing was tricky. I could hover consistently now, stay in the air for about thirty seconds before my concentration slipped. Actually moving while airborne? That was harder. I managed to float forward a few feet before almost crashing into the dryer.
Baby steps, right?
By the time I was done, I was exhausted. Not physically. But mentally,.my brain felt like mush from all the concentration.
In seconds, I was just standing there in my regular clothes, holding the black sword.
I dismissed it with a thought and it vanished.
Then I noticed something.
My body felt perfectly fine. No pain. None at all.
I pressed my hand against my ribs where the bruises had been. Nothing. I rotated my shoulders, stretched my arms, jumped up and down a few times.
Not even a twinge.
What the hell?
Was this the armor's doing? Did it heal me somehow? I mean it's the only possible explanation.
Welp, another ability to note, enhanced regeneration. Cool.
I headed back upstairs and grabbed the phone box Mom had given me and started setting it up. New phone, new number, whole fresh start. Fitting, I guess.
While it was downloading apps and doing whatever new phones do, I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.
This was my life now.
Part of me still couldn't believe it. Yesterday I was just the new kid trying to survive high school. Now I was... what? A superhero in training? Some kind of chosen one? A lucky idiot who stumbled into powers?
I thought about that giant lizard that nearly killed me. About spiderman.
Did I even want to be a superhero?
That was the real question, wasn't it?
I mean, yeah. Growing up, who didn't want to be Superman? Or Batman? Saving people, fighting bad guys, being someone who mattered. Every kid dreamed about that stuff at some point.
But this was real now. Not some fantasy I'd grow out of. I had actual powers. Actual abilities. And New York was full of actual threats. Giant lizard monsters. Mutants. People with abilities like the Fantastic Four. All kinds of crazy shit.
If I had these abilities and didn't use them, and someone got hurt because of it? How was I supposed to live with that?
But on the other hand, I was just a kid. Seventeen years old. I had enough trouble figuring out homework
Now I was supposed to fight monsters too?
Mom already lost Dad. If something happened to me out there playing hero, it would destroy her. She'd be all alone.
Was it worth the risk?
I didn't know. Honestly, I had no idea.
All I knew was that eventually, I'd have to decide what to do with them.
My phone buzzed. Finished setting up.
I checked it and saw a text from Mom. Must've sent it earlier while I was in the basement.
Mom: Hey sweetie, how are you? Everything okay?
I typed back quickly. Me: All good. Just resting.
A few minutes later, she replied.
Mom: Good. I might be home late tonight. Sorry honey.
Not unusual. Mom worked overtime pretty often. I mean, she's a nurse. Hospitals don't exactly run on a nine to five schedule. Someone's always sick, always needs help, and Mom never said no when they asked her to stay.
Me: Okay got it.
Mom: Love you. Take care.
Me: Love you too.
I set the phone down and looked around my room. Nothing to do. Homework? Yeah right, the doctor said I needed rest. That included mental rest, which totally counted for skipping assignments.
I headed downstairs and flopped onto the couch. Grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
The reporter was interviewing someone at what looked like some fancy building in Manhattan. The Baxter Building, according to the text on screen. And standing there in a blue suit was Dr. Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four.
Right. The Fantastic Four. Scientists who got powers from cosmic radiation or something. I think? It'd been years since I'd read about them online. They were pretty famous though. Saved New York a bunch of times. Had their own building and everything.
Dr. Richards was going on about some teleportation experiment. Something about quantum mechanics and dimensional travel. Very scientific. Very boring.
I changed the channel.
After a few clicks, it finally landed on something decent. Some action movie. Explosions, car chases, the whole nine yards. I didn't recognize it, but it looked entertaining enough.
I settled back into the couch and watched for a bit. The hero was doing some parkour across rooftops, chasing down the bad guy. Pretty cool, actually.
My stomach growled.
Right. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. And that was hours ago.
I got up and headed to the kitchen. Mom said there was food in the fridge. I opened it and scanned my options.
Leftover pasta from two nights ago. Some chicken. A sandwich she must've made this morning wrapped in plastic. Fruits. Yogurt. The usual stuff.
I grabbed the sandwich and a can of soda.
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By the time Mom came home, she was exhausted and I was bored out of my mind. I'd spent the rest of the day watching TV and browsing the internet. Though, okay, I'll admit it. I kept going back to the basement every couple hours to put on Grand Chariot. Just for a few minutes. Just to feel that rush again.
What? Don't judge me. You'd do the same thing. It was like getting a new toy on Christmas morning. I was still giddy about it. Bite me.
Mom dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh.
"How's work, Mom?" I asked.
"God, there were so many injured today." She rubbed her temples, looking worn out.
She must be talking about the lizard. Earlier on the news, they'd reported that the giant lizard came back. Attacked some building in Manhattan. Oscorp Tower, I think.
"The lizard?" I asked.
She nodded. "Multiple casualties. Some critical. We were swamped all afternoon."
My stomach dropped. For a second, I'd been worried she might've been there when it attacked. That she could've gotten hurt. But the news said the fight happened at Oscorp Tower, and Spider-Man managed to take the thing down. Thank god.
Still. People died. That thing killed people.
"By the way," Mom said, settling deeper into the couch beside me. "Isn't your friend's name Stacy?"
"Gwen?"
"Yeah, the girl who visited you." Mom's expression turned sad. "There was a police captain who came in. Dead on arrival. Killed by the lizard. His name was George Stacy." She paused. "Maybe they're related?"
My heart sank.
George Stacy. Gwen Stacy.
Oh no.
I didn't know for sure. I mean, Gwen and I just met.
But Stacy wasn't exactly the most common name. And if her dad was a cop…
"Maybe just the same last name?" I said, but even I didn't believe it.
Mom gave me a sympathetic look. She didn't believe it either.
I felt something twist in my chest. That awful, hollow feeling I knew too well. The one that showed up when Dad died. When we got the call from the hospital. When Mom came home with red eyes and told me he was gone.
If that was Gwen's dad... god, I knew what she was going through. How the world just stops making sense for a while. How everything feels wrong and empty. How you keep expecting them to walk through the door even though you know they never will.
And the worst part? Knowing there's nothing anyone can say to make it better. People try. They tell you it'll be okay, that time heals, all that stuff. But it doesn't help. Not really. Not when the person you love is just gone.
I'd only known Gwen for a day. But she'd been nice to me. Came to visit when she didn't have to. And if she really just lost her dad the same way I lost mine...
That was rough. Really rough.
I pulled out my phone, thinking about texting Peter.
I got their number at the hospital, and we exchange contacts.
Still asking if he'd heard anything. But what would I even say? "Hey, did Gwen's dad die today?" That seemed like a terrible way to find out.
I set the phone down.
If it was true, she'd tell us when she was ready. Or Peter would know. Either way, it wasn't my place to go digging.
But man. First day at a new school, I nearly died. Now one of my new friends might've just lost her dad.
New York was brutal.