Metamorphosis - An Irondad Fanfic

Chapter 1 - The Bite

*cough- of 87- cough*

Peter Parker was an ordinary genius. Though that statement was contradictory, Ned agreed. All he needed was his best friend's approval anyway. Well, and maybe May's. Either way, it couldn't ring more true in the case of Peter Parker.

He breezed by AP calculus and AP chemistry, shined during physics, and proudly raised his hand in response to every question in biology. In his free time, he tinkered with scraps he found around the city—after dutifully washing them as per his aunt's request. In those odd banana math problems on Instagram, there wasn't a single one he couldn't solve, and not a single commenter was spared his mathematical wrath if they argued with him.

But his genius ended right around where "logic and reason" did. He barely dragged himself through Spanish with an -A, couldn't find an appreciation for Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in English, and history... it's best no one knew what happened in history. There was a reason he had to plead with Mr. McAny for a 50% on his final essay, which dumped him down to being right on the cusp of an -A. Did the teen care? 

Not strongly. 

Outside of school and his long rants on social media, his social skills were rusty. His interests included a few survival video games, Star Wars, legos, and that was that. When Peter wasn't working, he was studying; when he wasn't studying, he was working. 

Normal. Peter Parker was an ordinary genius. Besides his parents dying when he was just a toddler, he had nothing to say about his life.

Until it became unordinary. 

It all started on Uncle Ben's birthday. Peter remembered that day better than he remembered the following night. The sunlight was intense, painting the brick townhouses and apartments with a fiery, molten red. Ben left early that morning but promised to be home early. It was all going to plan. 

Peter remembered how quickly his breaths left his tired lungs as he dashed down bustling streets. He impatiently tapped his foot against the pavement, his eyes locked on the pixelated red hand keeping him from crossing the street home. With one hand in his hoodie pocket, he kept a tight grasp on Ben's gift. Its cool metal reminded him of the months of saving he and May underwent, keeping a stash of loose change deep inside the closet. 

Everything went to plan.

Ben came home to his sweaty nephew and beaming wife and immediately sported his brand-new birthday watch. Peter remembered how loud it ticked when he hugged his uncle tight, telling him how much he loved him. 

Fate had the cruelest plans for the Parkers. When Uncle Ben wore his watch to work the next day, it caught too many eyes. They didn't anticipate that anyone would start whispering to the people they knew. They couldn't foresee a break-in that night—the first time in months that May had a graveyard shift. 

The criminals tore through their humble apartment, dumping Aunt May's family jewelry on the carpet. To this day, Peter still heard Ben's watch tick against his ear as he held onto him. They were corralled into the center of the living room and forced to their knees while the robbers violently searched for something to satisfy their monetary cravings. 

Did he remember which shot came first? The heart or the shoulder? Everything turned from ugly to fatal so fast—Peter's young mind couldn't wrap around it. He didn't remember if only one of them shot or if Ben was killed by them both. He didn't remember at what point they ran. 

All he could remember was Ben's airways filling with thick blood as he lay in Peter's arms, weakly trying to sit up or comfort his nephew. His watch still ticked after his heart stopped beating.