More Than Amazing
Chapter 3 - Trying To Do Better
He never asked for these powers.
He never knew it would mean a bashed up hand, a hard nine p.m. curfew, no job—and friends who all thought he was scum!
…It was all just a twist of fate—a random bug bite!
He uncorked the genetic cleanser and held it up to his mouth. It was his chance to live life without Spider-Man. A chance to live as Peter Parker.
Easiest decision he ever made.
Then, an old photo of Uncle Ben caught his eye. He webbed to his hand and eyed his moral center.
It made him think of everything Spider-Man had done. The cleanser was the easy decision… except, he had saved them.
Spider-Man was no magic wand, but thanks to him—Curt was cured, and Billy got his father back.
He removed the gene cleanser from his mouth, and hid it under his desk.
…So what if nobody threw a parade.
Spider stays because Spidey's needed.
For now anyway.
…
He stared at the news stand, eyeing the latest headline.
'Daily Bugle: CRIME UP 75%! Where is Spider-Man now?'
He couldn't tear his eyes off of it.
—Then screaming reached his ears.
He turned, and saw it—a fire, an entire apartment building engulfed in a blaze. Faint explosions rumbled from it as residents fled in droves.
"Somebody… help! Fire!"
He was moving before he could think, hands reaching for his undershirt… only to realize, he didn't have a costume anymore.
He threw it away—his power was gone, and so was his responsibility.
Spider-Man was no more.
Another explosion drew him back to the scene, where he heard a man yelling, "Alicia—Alicia, the Chens can't find their daughter! H-have you seen her?"
The man must not've gotten a good response, as he quickly yelled towards those around him, "Somebody call the Fire Department, now! Help!"
He sprinted over to the man in an instant, eyeing the burning windows as he spoke, "Is there anyone in that building?"
"W-we think there's a kid stuck on the second floor." The man responded anxiously, before crying out to him in disbelief, "H-hey, w-where you going?!"
He had already run into the burning building without hesitation.
The moment he exited, the building had collapsed behind him—but he did it. Against all odds, he had saved the little girl.
Peter Parker had saved her, even without his powers.
"You got some guts, kid." The firefighters had helped him afterwards, thankful for his bravery… but, then he overheard their next conversation.
"…Some poor soul got trapped on the fourth floor, never made it out."
His stomach dropped as he heard their words, ones that filled him with sadness, shame, helplessness and guilt.
Peter Parker may have saved a little girl… but Spider-Man?
Spider-Man would have saved everyone.
…
He was in an dirty alley.
"Listen, maybe there is another way to—!" He was punched across the jaw.
He stumbled from the blow, fixing his glasses back to his face, "Look, we all just got off the chain, and no one wants a fight. But, their rations are theirs."
"And now, they're mine." The mugger replied remorselessly.
The people he was defending shouted for the man to leave him alone. He rubbed his jaw as he stood, "Don't worry, Mr. Angelo, this face can take a punch or two!"
Then the mugger pulled out a knife.
"Okay… but, it does have a severe knife allergy."
But they were interrupted, "You, assailant."
The voice had a majesty to it that was hard to deny, and the owner behind it only further reinforced that. He was huge, the largest man he had probably ever seen, and had a handsome and masculine face, with long golden locks framing it.
But, he seemed injured. His face was bruised, and his flowing cape torn—not to mention the glowing cracks on his hammer.
"Flee."
The mugger ran away without retort, intimidated by the man's glowing eyes.
Meanwhile, he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Angelo, "Yeah, you guys should probably flee as well, just to be safe."
"Thank you. Thank you." Mr. Angelo said to him as they left.
"Just… being a friendly neighbor." He replied hesitantly.
Then the injured man walked over to him, looking him in the eyes as he spoke—no, declared, "I know you."
He was confused, "Uh, do you? Feels like I would've seen a guy like you on the chain. You're kinda obvious…"
The man ignored his words, "You keep your face hidden, but Sif's eyes see all. You are one of her favorites."
He didn't know how to reply to that.
"You truly do not know me?" The man asked with surprise.
"I feel like you want me to, but I also hate lying…"
"…Then it is true. The madman has used the Bifrost to banish the memory of the world before." The man sighed to himself, before looking at him with electric blue eyes, "But, I know you… Peter Parker."
"In this place, I could not hear the mind-voices of those whom I have fought alongside. If I could not find my allies, I sought whomever might be considered a champion of this place that remains." The man put a hand to his shoulder, "So, I allowed my feet to guide me."
"And they brought you… to me? Wow, man. Whatever it is you're looking for, you've got the wrong guy."
"No," The man smiled at him, "I have not."
He eventually brought the man to his shabby, tiny apartment and explained how life went on in this dump, "When one of us… is really good—waiting in line like a champ, or going above and beyond in the mecha-mines, or especially not causing trouble—then you get ascended. You become one of the palace people, and get to do… palace stuff."
He pulled back at his torn curtains so they could look at the Ziggurat, a large glowing building of riches, technology, and magic shining out like a beacon at the center of an endless slum.
"Man, I would love to do palace stuff."
The man was in disbelief, "Your life here, all you have known… is dirt and suffering. And your only escape here is… not causing trouble?"
"A bit bleak. But, yeah… you nailed it."
"And yet, you stood up for the old man, 'Mr. Angelo.' That is… not not causing trouble."
"…I suppose you're right." He gazed at the infinite ghetto as he continued, "It's just hard to watch people suffer when you can do something about it. Even if that something is… just taking a punch."
The man turned to him as he spoke, watching him as he continued gazing out the window, "I know I'm just one guy… but I feel like I have a responsibility. To make the effort."
The man was quiet for a bit, before he asked him with trepidation in his eyes, "…Even in failure?"
He eyed him from the side, "Especially in failure." He gained a faint grin, "The battles you can't win, are the most important to fight."
The blonde haired man gained a bright smile at his words, standing tall before patting him on the head, "You will not remember this. But when next we meet, you have earned a visit to the hot springs of Heven."
"…Not gonna lie, that sounds pretty good—"
—But the man vanished with a crack of thunder. For the mighty Thor… had returned to battle.
.
.
.
..
…
"…Peter?"
Gwen Stacy stared at a sleeping Peter Parker as he quietly napped at the back of the classroom, his face was surprisingly peaceful today.
"Peter!" The teacher yelled out again.
It was a shame his nap was interrupted.
Peter jerked up from his seat in surprise, almost falling out of his chair. But she never removed her eyes from him, the way his eyes momentarily glazed over or how his hands trembled beneath his desk.
He had gotten good at hiding it. But she knew what she had to look for—the signs that there was something wrong with Peter Parker.
It was why she never truly hated him, no matter how much he ditched her, ignored her, and avoided her. He was suffering too, always sad and frightened—and she knew it wasn't just about his parents.
Enough time had passed to weaken that ache.
It hurt that he left her… but she could also see how clearly it hurt him as well. He often looked at her so sadly… sometimes he would even flinch at the sight of her, as if her face brought him physical pain.
He clearly cared for her, but it was like he was afraid to.
But even so—why did he always chase her away? What was he so afraid of?!
She was resentful.
He never explained anything to her, no matter how hard she begged and cried for him to just talk to her.
He would only tear up and say he was no good for her, and that she should stay away from him.
Who was he to decide that!?
She didn't even know what he was talking about—he never did anything wrong to her before!
He was her best friend.
She watched as he steadied his nerves while the teacher continued, tapping the board with a sarcastic voice, "Answer the question, Peter. You've had enough time to work on it… unless, maybe you were asleep?"
"Maybe you need a refresher to remember?" They were expected to have been working on it the whole time.
But Peter… definitely had not.
Gwen glared at her tone.
"…Let a and b be positive real numbers such that a + b = 47. If reducing b by 90% yields a value equal to 230% of the square root of (a − b), what is the value of a?"
It wasn't just an SAT question—this was the kind of problem reserved for seniors aiming for perfect scores.
The kind that required translating language into equations, managing radicals, checking for extraneous solutions, and keeping track of domain restrictions. Most AP high school students would need scratch paper, crossed-out attempts, and several minutes just to orient themselves.
The teacher had written it up as a warning.
This was what real testing looked like—especially after yesterday's abysmal class average. This was what they should be striving for by the time they graduate from high school years from now.
Peter didn't even blink.
Even half-lost in his thoughts and barely awake, he answered instantly, "24."
The teacher froze.
"…That is—" she stammered, quickly checking her guide, reworking the equation under her breath, then staring back at him. "…That is correct."
There was a reason most teachers didn't ask about his reclusive behavior.
Because Peter Parker was smart—extremely smart. He just never really showed it off, too busy being half asleep or half depressed.
But the results spoke for themselves.
Most of the class watched in shock, and Peter didn't even realize it. His gaze had already drifted, unfocused, fingers twitching faintly against the edge of his desk as if his mind were somewhere else entirely.
Gwen stared down at her own scrap paper, She had written the system out correctly. She'd translated the percentages, and even remembered to isolate the square root.
And yet, she was still stuck with her pencil hovered uselessly over the page.
She swallowed.
She wasn't stupid. She knew she wasn't. But moments like this—watching Peter casually pluck answers out of thin air like it cost him nothing—always left her feeling strangely hollow.
Because she knew him, she knew how effortlessly it was for him. But, if he could do that—solve something like that instantly, without even seeming awake—then what was he stressing out to himself about the rest of the time?
Why did he always look like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders?
She glanced up at him again.
Peter sat slouched in his chair, like none of this mattered. Like he didn't belong here.
Her chest tightened.
She didn't want to compete with him, and she didn't care that he was some super genius pariah.
Gwen Stacy just wanted Peter Parker to look at her again.
Eventually the bell rang, ending the class. Chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up, chatter filling the room.
"…Peter." She spoke hesitantly, forcing the words out of her mouth before he could leave.
He froze at the sound of her voice, before he slowly turned, already bracing himself.
Gwen stood there, clutching her notebook to her chest nervously. "You… uh. That was really impressive."
"Oh." He adjusted his glasses, clearly caught off guard, "Thanks. It's just… numbers."
There was an awkward pause. She was surprised she had even gotten this far—surprised he hadn't brushed her off with a cold shoulder.
"…Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Peter hesitated, as his eyes seemed to look everywhere but at her. Before eventually, he locked eyes with her, as if finally deciding not to run away.
But she saw him hide the sadness in his eyes.
"…I'm trying to do better." He ultimately said, grinning a bit to himself as he seemed to recall a good memory, one that made her finally notice the lack of bags under his eyes.
"O-oh, I see."
"Thank you Gwen… for asking."
She tried not to think about how his response didn't make her happy like she thought it would, instead it made her stomach cramp in envy.
…Who made him smile like that?
—————
Parker."
Flash stood there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, eyes fixed to the floor.
"…Look," Flash said, voice rough. "About yesterday."
Peter waited.
Flash exhaled hard. "I shouldn't've done that. To Osborn." He hesitated, "Or to you… it wasn't cool."
Peter blinked. "Okay."
He frowned. "That's it?"
Peter patted him on the shoulder, "You're trying to do better right? That's… all I needed," Peter replied honestly.
Flash huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well—don't get used to it."
Peter smiled, before closing his locker, "Your football should be on hold 'til your grades improve right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Then let's use that time to study." Peter invited him, "Let's head to the library."
Flash blinked. "Wait—now?"
Peter shrugged. "Unless you've got somewhere better to be."
Flash scoffed.
Peter just slung his bag over his shoulder and started down the hall, trusting Flash to either follow or not.
After a second of indecision, Flash did.
They hadn't gone far when Flash glanced over his shoulder, and spotted Harry, who had been lingering near the water fountain like he wasn't sure he belonged anywhere in the hall.
With a hesitant expression, Flash Thompson thought of the person Peter Parker remembered him as.
The person he wanted to be.
"Hey, Parker…" He turned to Peter, licking his lips nervously as if in disbelief of what he was about to say, "…You think we could invite Osborn?"
Peter's eyes widened in surprise, although he was still hesitant about interacting with others… he knew he needed this as much as Flash did.
Maybe even Harry did as well.
"…Of course, it's up to you. I'm not the one that needs tutoring." He left it open to Flash anyway, encouraging him.
Flash clicked his tongue under his breath, before walking over to the absentminded Harry, "…Hey. Osborn."
Harry stiffened immediately. "Y-yeah?"
Flash scratched the side of his jaw, clearly annoyed with himself more than anything else.
"Uh. Look—about yesterday. That was… dumb," Flash muttered.
Harry blinked. "Oh."
An awkward beat passed.
Then, Flash seemed to resolve himself, squaring his shoulders and looking at Harry straight on, "I shouldn't have done that… and, I'm sorry."
Harry was speechless, he couldn't remember the last time he had even heard those words spoken to himself.
Then Flash jerked his head toward Peter.
"Parker's tutoring me… you should come."
Harry understood what it was—a crude apology, an invitation, maybe even a chance at something normal, like friendship.
But he didn't know how to respond.
The friends he'd had before were always interested in his last name, his money, or what they could get out of him.
But he didn't get that feeling from Flash, who literally bullied him yesterday, or Peter, who mostly just ignored him.
Harry glanced at Peter, searching for the catch.
Peter met his eyes and smiled faintly with a shrug, "If you want. We're just studying."
No expectation. No evaluation. No hint that Harry needed to earn the invitation by being smart, rich, or useful.
Harry swallowed. "…Yeah," he said quietly. "I'd like that."
Flash nodded, like that settled it. "Cool. Library." Before walking off with Peter.
Harry didn't reply—but something in his chest eased anyway, and for the first time that day, his shoulders did too.
He then quickly followed after them.
————-
That evening, Peter sat at the small kitchen table, elbows resting beside an untouched plate. His homework lay neatly stacked to one side, already finished.
"…Peter, are you going to eat?" He could hear the grief in their voice, scared of his poor appetite.
Peter jolted slightly and forced himself to take a bite to reassure them. He chewed quickly, swallowing even faster.
"I'm fine," He said, a little too quickly, "Just… stuck in my head."
Uncle Ben folded his newspaper with a quiet rustle and studied him over the rim of his glasses.
"You want to talk about what's going on in there?" He asked gently, tapping his own temple.
Peter hesitated.
They waited, and he could see the anticipation in their eyes—one that pleaded for him to finally open up.
…And Peter couldn't keep coming up with excuses not to. How long would he keep running away from it?
Was it ever even worth the effort—putting his head in the sand and pretending it was all alright?
That the world wasn't only a few years away from falling apart? Aliens, Gods, Alternate Dimensions… he would just be some kid in high school, how could ever face that?
…But, he could.
He knew he could—he'd seen that he could.
He was just afraid to.
But then he thought of his conversation with MJ, about the words of encouragement he used. He mostly said it to cheer her up… but there was some truth to it.
So, with a deep breath—Peter Parker thought of what Spider-Man would do.
Would he also run away from this conversation?
No, he wouldn't.
He stared at his plate, at the half-eaten food, at the faint reflection of the overhead light in his glass. The words piled up in his throat—and he finally spoke what he hid in his heart since he was a boy.
"…What would you do, if you could do a good thing—lots of good things… but you would have to suffer for it?" He looked up at their confused eyes, "Suffer more than you think you could ever handle."
The room went quiet, May's hands stilled at the counter.
They clearly didn't expect this question, out of any of them.
Ben didn't answer right away. He lowered his newspaper slowly, as if taking in the weight of Peter's words.
"…That's a heavy question, Peter," Ben finally said.
Peter's shoulders hunched slightly. "You don't have to—"
"No," Ben interrupted gently. "You asked. That means you deserve an answer."
Ben leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. His voice was calm, steady—and wise. It was the voice of a man who had lived life, "If I could do a good thing," he said slowly, "…and it meant I'd suffer for it… I'd want to know why I was suffering."
Peter frowned, "Why?"
"Because suffering by itself doesn't mean anything," Ben said, "People suffer every day for no reason at all. What matters is whether that pain means something."
Aunt May joined them at the table then, sitting beside Peter instead of across from him. She placed a hand over his, warm and grounding.
"Peter," she said softly, "Do you think the world is kind to people who try to make it better?"
He shook his head immediately. "No."
She smiled sadly. "It never has been."
Ben nodded. "Doing the right thing doesn't come with guarantees. It doesn't promise you'll be thanked, or safe, or happy."
He thought of all the good Spider-Man did, and the heartaching pain and loss it cost him to do so.
Only to be labeled a menace.
Peter swallowed. "…Then why do you do it?"
Ben's eyes softened.
"Because," he said, "if you can do good—and you choose not to—you don't just avoid the pain. You live with the regret."
That hit harder than Peter expected.
May squeezed his hand, "And regret lasts longer than any bruises, sweetheart."
Her words brought the faint echo of a snapped spine, a bleeding man on the floor crying out to him, and a flatlining heart monitor.
He didn't like it.
Peter's voice dropped to a whisper, "…What if I'm not good enough?"
Ben didn't flinch. "It's hard to be good enough, Peter. You can't always win, that's the way life works. Sometimes, it doesn't matter how hard you try, you lose anyway. Listen, killer—life is a very long season. Some you win, some you lose… and it's good to lose once in a while. It makes the winning all the sweeter."
May glanced over from the side, a proverb easily leaving her lips, "A righteous man may fall seven times, but he will rise again." May covered his hand entirely with her own, "I think you are a righteous man sweety, I know you are."
Ben shot a grin at May, "On that we agree. Don't doubt yourself son—It's never about being good enough, it's about trying your hardest even when you aren't."
May's grip tightened just a little. "And when you can't," she added with a soft smile, "We'll be here to help you, always."
Peter looked between them. Two people who had already suffered so much, but still chose kindness anyway.
They were more than he could ever ask for.
Ben straightened slightly as he added quietly, "Don't ask for an easy life Peter," He finished,"…Ask to be a strong man."
Peter teared up at his words.
He struggled to think of a better way to describe it, he knew his life wouldn't—couldn't—be easy.
That dreadful expectation left a cloud over his head, one that would never go away.
He always felt like the world was on his back since he was a boy, because he knew too much—seen too far behind the curtain… but now, he just hoped he could become a man with shoulders broad enough to carry it with.
Because he decided to be brave.
He couldn't keep running away from it. His other selves didn't, even when they lost their power—even when the entire world was designed against them.
"…I-I want to try," Peter choked out after a long moment, "Even if it hurts. Even if I fail."
Ben smiled—not proud, not relieved—just certain, "That sounds like someone I know."
May grinned as Ben leaned over to him, putting a finger to his chest, "The only thing greater than that big ol' head of yours... is your heart son. Just don't forget who you are—knowledge is power Peter, but with great power…"
Peter's breath hitched at his words.
"…there must also come great responsibility."
The words hung in the air.
Peter didn't answer right away. He couldn't. His chest felt too tight, his vision too blurred for anything clever or articulate.
He wasn't Spider-Man, not yet. But he had a choice, to keep running—or to stand still long enough to carry that weight, even when it hurt.
Even when it tried to break him.
Not even Spider-Man could do everything, save everyone—he wasn't the strongest, the fastest, or even the smartest.
But, he sure as hell was the most resilient.
Peter wiped at his eyes and forced a shaky smile. "I'll… try to remember that."
Ben smiled back, warm and proud. May pulled him into a hug without asking. For the first time in a long while, Peter let himself believe he could be strong enough.
Maybe not enough to solve everything.
But enough to always keep trying.
And tomorrow—when the world asked more of him again, he wouldn't look away.
Not anymore.
===========
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Author's Notes
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
Hope you all have a great holiday! Make sure to leave a like, it would be a great present to me…
Not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but hopefully it's good enough, leave a comment for your thoughts!
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