Even a beloved and respected race like the Galvans could have detractors. There were some, though unsurprisingly a minority. After all, much of the universe's scum was simply afraid of them and wouldn't even dare to fly past their home planet with ill intentions.
But among them were also the "bold few." Beings who hid in the darkest corners of the galaxy, secretly gathering strength and waiting for the right moment to strike, aiming first and foremost to seize as many benefits for themselves as possible. They waited… waited… and waited. They could feel that their moment was approaching, that soon they would be able to lay their hands on the treasures of Galvan Prime—be it precious gems, credits, rare materials or their technology.
Until, at last… that moment arrived. The information that reached these beings spoke of an artifact of unimaginable power and limitless possibilities. Galvans planned to transport this marvel to some primitive planet. Quietly and secretly, without noise or unwanted attention. Yet, inevitably, word of it reached those who needed to know. And as for the source… well, Azmuth, with all his genius and greatness, could sometimes be a little naive and overly trusting. In this story, that very trait would play a cruel trick on him…
Far out in the endless black of space, a massive, ominous ship drifts silently, its dark metal surface glinting faintly in the distant starlight. Inside, the corridors hum with low, mechanical sound, and red warning lights flicker along the walls. At the heart of the ship stands a towering being, his armored body bristling with spikes, his glowing red eyes fixed on a floating hologram.
The hologram showed a spaceship, much smaller than the one chasing it. Although it looked quite battered and clearly in terrible condition, it didn't slow down as it moved away from its pursuer, maneuvering between shots from the enemy's weapons while managing to strike back with its own fire.
The large alien leans closer, his sharp claw-like hands clenching, his expression dark and full of determination. Every line of his body radiates power and anger. With a sudden, forceful motion, he slams a massive hand onto a console. "Bring it to me," he growls, his voice echoing through the ship's cavernous chambers.
Next to the hologram of the unfolding chase, another projection flickers to life, revealing a tall and thin figure with spindly limbs ending in razor-sharp claws, its pale, almost grayish skin stretches tightly over its bones, giving it a skeletal, nightmarish appearance. An elongated, pointed head hosts eyes that glow faint red.
"Lord Vilgax, the energy shield around the flagship has failed — we have only one operational weapon left. If we keep going like this and don't pull back..."
The being looked alarmed and spoke in an agitated tone, but it wasn't allowed to finish its thought. A massive armored alien loomed before projection, his head draped with a tangle of tentacles hanging down over its chest, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"No! I've waited for this moment for so long, poured so many resources into it, and now you want me to retreat!? Psiphon, continue the pursuit! I will get the Omnitrix — it will be mine!"
The alien named Psiphon had no choice but to bow, muttering a humble, "Yes, my Lord," before his projection vanished.
Meanwhile, aboard the small ship, a lone figure in a tight white-and-black uniform watched helplessly as the last shields on his vessel fell. He knew the next strike against his spacecraft would be the final one; his mission had failed, and Azmuth's greatest creation would fall into the hands of a cosmic warlord.
Gathering his composure and steeling himself with determination, he approached the onboard computer and quickly typed something on the digital keypad.
"Computer, initiate the B-P-N-T-G-O-B-A-M emergency security protocol."
The white-and-black figure intoned the command in a firm, mask-modified voice. In response to him, an emotionless female voice spoke:
"Voice module identified: Officer R-B-100. Command verified as legitimate. Initiating the necessary calibration immediately. Warning: The process may take up to 10 seconds."
The figure straightened up and quickly strode toward the manual control panel.
"Don't worry, I'll buy you some time. Do what you must."
Taking manual control, the black-and-white clad being poured all of its strength and skill into dodging the relentless fire from the pursuing enemy ship. It helped that the enemy seemed to have lost a significant portion of its combat power during the earlier clash.
"Protocol launch in 5 seconds."
The fire was relentless and unyielding. Yet not a single shot managed to hit the agile, fiercely resisting ship. At that moment, Officer R-B-100 thought of nothing except completing the mission successfully, no matter the cost.
"Protocol launch in 3… 2… 1. Protocol successfully initiated."
Taking a deep breath, the lone living being on the ship reached for the red button on the digital control panel. He pressed it, and a red warning text appeared: [Using the Uber-Charge with the current state of the energy core is not recommended. Consequences may lead to destabilization and self-detonation of the spacecraft. Do you want to use Uber-Charge?]
[Confirm] – [Cancel]
"To peace," the being whispered his last word, pressing Confirm.
In the next instant, several things happened at once. Unseen by any eye, an invisible spherical capsule slipped free from the battered little ship, moving silently through the void on a path known only to itself. The ship froze in place, hovering motionless in the weightlessness of space. From its single functioning weapon, a deep violet light began to glow, low and steady, casting long shadows across the hull.
Before the enemy vessel could respond, a thick, blinding beam of energy shot forward, cutting through the darkness at incredible speed. It struck its target almost instantly, breaking through every layer of defense to hit the flagship's bridge.
Then came the explosions—first one, then another—shaking the void with sudden, brutal force.
At the same time, an earlier-released invisible capsule continued to fly to a place where what was inside it was destined to forever change the history of one person whom its creator deemed worthy…
________________________________________________________________
Earlier. Planet C-54 (Terra). Year 2005. May 31.
United States. New York. Midtown School of Science and Technology
Sitting at the last desk by the window in a classroom filled with other students, 13-year-old Peter Parker rested his head on one hand and let his bored gaze wander around the room for what felt like the hundredth time.
It was the last day of school before summer break, and as it usually happens on such days, time seemed to drag on endlessly—especially during class.
Today was the day Peter always looked forward to the most — Uncle Ben was supposed to come and take him on a trip across the country for the entire summer vacation.
Even though Peter didn't spend much time with his uncle, having mostly lived and grown up with Aunt May, he loved and respected both of them endlessly — the two people who had replaced his parents after they were gone from his life forever.
He loved spending time with both Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but traveling with the latter was something special for him.
It was during those long drives, with the radio playing softly and the sun setting beyond the highway, that uncle Ben would tell him stories about his own youth — the mistakes he made, the choices that shaped him — and Peter would listen, hanging on every word.
They'd camp out under the stars, and Ben would point to constellations Peter could barely see through the city lights back home. They visited famous and interesting places, met new people — overall, it was a perfect adventure and experience that Peter wouldn't trade for anything.
While Peter was thinking, his ears caught the sound he wanted most — the school bell. Class was over! Freedom, thought the student, smiling from ear to ear as he excitedly started packing his things into his backpack. When everything was packed, he jumped up from his desk and was one of the first to rush out of the classroom, running down the halls toward the main exit.
Throwing open the double doors and stepping outside, Peter took a deep breath and exhaled, enjoying the feeling of freedom from lessons.
Don't get him wrong — the boy was one of the few who truly loved learning and discovering new things. He was a diligent student and one of the best in his class. But sometimes, his soul longed for something different — a break from the monotonous routine of moving from one classroom to another, sitting in the same spot all day, and writing in his notebook until his hand went numb.
And today, he would finally break that cycle of routine and set off on an incredible adventure — to places he and Uncle Ben had never been on their previous trips.
Walking down the asphalt path away from the school building, Peter thought excitedly about the time ahead when he suddenly noticed a muffled sound. It sounded like laughter — not just one person's, but a group of people laughing loudly, as if something was extremely funny.
Feeling curious about what could be happening to make so many people laugh, Peter walked toward the sound. It came from a small clearing near the school — a place where students usually spent their breaks. Now, a large crowd of students of all ages had gathered there.
They were standing in a circle around something, watching and laughing. But their laughter wasn't the kind you'd hear after a funny joke — it was mocking, cruel. That gave Peter a bad feeling, yet he kept walking toward them anyway. When he finally reached the scene, Peter struggled to push his way through the crowd — and his eyes widened at what he saw.
In the middle of the circle, under the gaze of all the onlookers, three boys — all ninth graders like Peter — were holding another boy upside down. Peter immediately recognized them: Flash Thompson, Cash Murray, and Harry Osborn — the trio of bullies. And the victim was no stranger either — it was Ned Leeds. All of them were ninth graders like him, and it seemed they had finished their lessons earlier than Peter.
If there's one thing Peter Parker can't stand more than anything, it's people like those three — people who think they have the right to hurt others, whether physically or psychologically, in any form, just because they want to.
He could never understand how anyone could act like that toward someone who never did anything to them — just lived their life. But what he couldn't wrap his head around even more was how anyone could just stand there and watch. There were so many onlookers, and not one of them — not a single person — said it was wrong, let alone tried to stop it.
"No, that won't do", — with these thoughts, he stepped out of the crowd into the circle and, looking at the three boys, said firmly and clearly: "That's enough. Stop it right now."
At that very moment, the laughter died, and for a few seconds, a deathly silence hung in the air. All eyes were now fixed on the newcomer, whose furrowed brows and eyes betrayed a hint of anger.
The three bullies raised their eyebrows at Peter, staring at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head—then their expressions twisted back into mocking smirks.
The dark-haired boy dressed in expensive designer clothes, Harry Osborn let go of Ned's leg and his friends followed him making the boy fall to the floor, not missing his chance he quickly jumped to his feet and without looking back ran away pushing through the crowd.
Some of those gathered, realizing that the fun was over, began to leave, but most, understanding that it was only just beginning, stayed and watched the scene with interest,
the blond short-haired boy, who was a little taller than his friends, stepped forward with an evil grin, staring at Peter
"Parker, if you wanted to be in his place so badly, you just had to ask"
With these words, the blond stepped up close to Peter and reached out to grab his shoulder. At that very moment, the "victim" suddenly caught his arm, twisted his body, and with a swift motion threw the boy over his shoulder, sending him crashing hard onto the floor, causing a painful groan to escape his lips.
Seeing what had just happened before their eyes, the two other boys stood frozen for a few moments, their eyes wide in shock, and then, as if they had made some kind of telepathic decision between themselves, they moved forward together to attack Peter.
"Now this is going to be harder," Peter thought, barely managing to dodge the punch that was aimed straight at his jaw, and leapt back just in time to avoid another blow aimed at his stomach.
While Peter was dodging the attackers, Flash had already recovered from his brief daze and got back on his feet. Gritting his teeth, he charged straight at Peter from behind and grabbed him in a hold. Peter, without losing his composure, drove the back of his head backward with full force, smashing it into the face of the boy holding him, forcing him, startled, to let go, giving Peter a chance to regroup and position himself so he could keep all three attackers in view.
Fighting against three opponents was… an ungrateful task, to say the least, but since Peter had started this mess, it was up to him to finish it. And if along the way his handsome face gets a couple of hits, well, happens.
Speaking of hits to his handsome face, Peter, given the uneven odds, did end up taking one — it landed right on his left eye, sending a sharp sting of pain through him and making him instinctively squeeze his eyelid shut.
But the attackers didn't walk away unscathed either. Peter managed to kick Harry in the stomach, making him double over, and then, with all his strength, landed a punch to his face, sending him staggering backward and crashing to the ground. Cash was the luckiest of them all — he got off with a hit to the gut that knocked the wind out of him and was simply shoved backward, where he was caught by the hands of the onlookers watching the whole scene unfold.
Flash, however, was a bigger problem — he seemed absolutely furious and attacked like a berserker, forcing Peter to go on the defensive and constantly dodge the blond's wild, swinging punches.
At one point, Peter managed to catch the bigger boy off guard and trip him, sending him crashing to the ground. That didn't stop him, though — he immediately scrambled back to his feet, glaring at his opponent with a burning, furious look.
"You're done for, Parker!"
Before Flash could do anything else, a woman's adult voice — that of a teacher — rang out from the crowd of onlookers:
"Step aside, move away, what's going on here?!"
From the crowd emerged a woman whom Peter recognized as the teacher from one of his recent classes — Mrs. Smith. She was a strict but generally fair, and now she stood staring at the scene before her, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"What in God's name happened here?"
"Oh, dear…"