Set the Setting. Alright. Easy. A Toyota is about to run my fifteen-year-old ass over in New York City in front of a fuck ton of people. Hooked? Great. Let's rewind a bit before I die for a second time. Yeah, I know what I said. Let me explain.
My name, the second one that is, is Josiah "Joe" Martin Parker, and in most universes, that person doesn't exist. Well, no, they do, someone definitely has that name in other parts of the world, buuut they're not born to people by the name of Ben Parker and Maybelle Parker, nope, that right belongs solely to me. I was born on February 21st, 1985, to a young and married couple, and um, let's just say the experience was traumatizing, painful, and confusing after dying in my first life. Do I remember how I died? Nope. Don't remember much, not even my name. But I do know some stuff, I was born in San Francisco, California, I knew a bit of Spanish, and a fuck ton of random shit because of my easily distracted ADHD addled ass wouldn't quit.
Like, do you know the number of wikis I was on, Fucking Hours into those shits. But I don't have a computer for a brain, so trying to remember which horses won, which racers won, which sports teams won to make some coin went out the fucking window. I do remember the basics, Google, Amazon, etc. But other than that, I am, what was that saying again... Fried? Cooked? Whatever. I was fucked. But who knew watching superhero movies and sometimes TV shows would come in handy? Unfortunately for me and my interests, I didn't watch all the Marvel Projects. I didn't watch Jessica Jones, Iron Fist, Luke Cage, what else... Ah Wandavision, Moon Knight, She Hulk, Black Widow, point is, I know some shit, some details, but definitely not all, so to all those fanfictions that have their character remember everything, and I do mean everything, down to the cereal those character ate. Fuck you.
By the way, notice how I swear a lot? It's how I cope, and also because my new momma has a potty mouth. Yep, Good ol' Famous Aunt May, who looks identical to Marisa Tomei, swears a lot, more than her movie counterpart for sure. Who would've thought? Must be her Italian side... Yeah, I know, I would've gotten slapped for that joke. Oh, and look at that, full circle, I'm finally talking about the people whom I was born to in this universe. Alright, let's stay on track. ADHD, fuck off for a while, alright? Cool.
Yes, it followed me to Rebirth, not the point. The point is that Marisa Tomei and an Adam Scott doubleganger are my parents. Best believe it was awkward for me in my babyhood. Physically, a baby; mentally, an unstable adult, it felt violating in a way when I was getting breastfed, for momma May and me, and also seen naked countless times, getting changed, getting bathed. It was a low for me. I'm ashamed and feel guilty to say that I worried my parents a lot about being an overly quiet baby, especially since the docs said I was going to be their only one.
But I did start showing some love and some life when little bits of independence were granted to me, like showering myself and using the toilet.
But yeah, after that, I was one active tike. The moment I watched on TV old movies about Captain America solidified that this was happening, I was reborn in a soon-to-be dangerous world, and the fact that I was born to a family that pretty much has something to do with the universe and its continuity, the drive to just make it out alive came to me. I wish I could say it's to protect my dad or my mom from death, but man, my mom, I could see saving... My pops, though? Spider-verse said it best. Some things are written and can't be undone or erased, so that's why I try to spend the much as I can with both of my parents. Sometimes alone, sometimes both, but if there is something I won't do, it is to take them for granted.
And so, when I wasn't with them, I was running around, literally. I did everything to build up my cardio, my stamina, my agility, and my strength, I even begged my parents to get me into peewee soccer, football, and baseball. I was alright with soccer, though I did prefer football as I played cornerback just to fucking tackle the other little shits, and with baseball I just practice my reaction speed and awareness. But yeah, anything involved getting active, I signed up for, and stayed true till this day, as I'm a part of the Midtown High School Football Team, again as a cornerback, and when our season is over, I'm a part of the Baseball Team as an outfielder.
I also got trained in different combat styles by my Uncle Richard and my Aunt Mary, who are CIA Agents here. Unfortunately, they do it behind my parents' backs because they wouldn't allow it for some reason. Maybe it's because I do too much already, they have never really given me a reason why, and if it is that, good thing both my uncle and aunt don't feel that way. Though both of them are skilled sadists, they stopped pulling their punches when I had my growth spurt a few months back, where I went from 5'8 to 5'11. Fucking CIA.
Oh, by the way, after my growth spurt, I looked like that one dude from Too Hot something, the sex appeal, romance show, the first season of it. His name started with either a D or a B. I don't know, but I resemble him, I think, my mind gets cloudy when I try to remember for sure.
Anyway, I didn't only focus on the physical aspect of my brand-new life, I did the mental stuff too, although reluctantly, because I'll confess, I was shit in schoolwork back at my first go at life, I was. I hated studying, I saw it as a waste, I just wanted to have fun and shit, but within this universe, I went straight to the books, and here's another jab at those fanfic writers who make their character supersmart and take in everything in one go and understand shit easily.
Double fuck you. No for real, I've spent hours on books on science, mathematics, tech, and shit, and fuck me does my brain hurt reading them. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm not learning here and there the more I read, but fuck me, writers make it so fucking easy, when it's not. Understanding complicated shit isn't easy at all, it takes a lot of time, time that I could be using doing something else, not breaking my head open trying to figure out chemistry.
But it is what it is, I'm in too deep to quit, but trust me when I say that I will always be envious of naturally talented, smart people, because I'm not them. My lane is being Brawn, not Brain, but dammit I will prevail against these shitty subjects if it's the last thing I do.
Anyway, I think that's a good recap about what I have been doing so far with my peaceful life, but man, what is with being fifteen and us Parkers, it's like we're destined to go through something at this age that isn't crippling depression or puberty. And I honestly thought I was going to survive it, too. We're only like 2 months away from February. I was so close, but in the end, Parker Luck found me after all these years.
My day started like this: I wake up, stretch, have a mini workout session, take a shower, get dressed, eat some breakfast with my parents, take the bus to school, ignore the stares I get from girls because to me they will always be underage despite some being the same year as me, learn some shit, get handed back some tests (got a B- in Chemistry) read a chemistry book during lunch, leave school, and take the bus back home.
After I got home, I relaxed for a while, did my homework, read for a while, then went out to my Uncle Richard's and Aunt Mary's place for the last time in a while, since they were going to leave for tomorrow in the morning to do spy shit, but when I hopped out the bus, that's when I saw it.
The girl was running by herself, had brown hair, and was dressed pretty. She giggled and squealed as she ran away from her yelling mother. I don't know why, but I turned my head and saw a swerving Toyota driving rapidly from a distance. The driver was either drunk or an idiot, but the fucker wasn't slowing down, and then I turned my head back towards the little girl and saw that she wasn't stopping, she just kept looking back, and light was still green as she ran through the street on the crosswalk.
The next thing I know, I'm on the street with a picked-up and thrown little girl on the floor a distance away from me, looking at me with a startled gaze.
Now we can hit Resume.
Pain, pain I hadn't felt since the day I was born. I felt every second of the impact, rolling on the hood, the windshield, the roof, and falling back on the street. I felt every moment of it, and it hurt so bad. I heard the mumblings of voices, of screams for an ambulance, but the only thing I could focus on was how my skin burned, how my bones felt shattered, how my throat ached in agony, a constant vibration going through it until, as I was blacking out, I realized I was crying my guts out in pain.
Then Black.
Eight Months Later
Third Person POV
A steady beeping woke him up. Joe's face scrunched up as a white light blared onto his face. He raised an arm to shield himself from the brightness, and in doing so, he felt a small, thin plastic object move with his arm. He flinched as it touched him; he felt overly sensitive, but before he could wonder why, a sound so rough and loud burst through his ears. He groaned, immediately placing his hands over his ears as he was bombarded with so much noise coming from... everywhere. But it wasn't just sound, he could...see...with his eyes closed.
It was not the same way as when his eyes were open, but he could see in the sense that he saw figures; they changed color, from white to red to blue, but he saw them all. He turned his head as he "gazed" upon what appeared to be a woman walking towards him, she was colored white, and every time she took a step, a wave of white and black encircled her, like a form of echolocation, it happened every time her hair swayed, when sleeves went up and down as she walked, every time she blinked, and every time her heart pumped blood into her body.
She got close enough that she stood some feet away from him. Then she extended her arm, grabbed onto something, and suddenly he was aware that there was a door there as she twisted a clinky metal like knob, and as she opened it, the noises became louder, making him groan even louder.
"Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker!" She exclaimed as she made her way to his side, but her exclamation was like daggers to his head as he gritted his teeth in agony; her quick stomps didn't help at all either. The one pleasant beeping became faster and faster, and with each beep were stabs at his head. He was getting too overloaded, and he was in so much pain. He needed an out. He needed one fast.
"Too loud," he said, his voice coming out raspy from disuse, and bless the woman's heart as she quickly turned off the heart monitor, and its white figure blurred out into black.
The woman, now the shade of light blue, lowered herself near him. "Okay, Mr. Parker," She whispered, "I'm going to need you to uncover your ears and focus only on my voice, can you do that?" She asked softly. He was reluctant, but he gave a small nod, though he grimaced as he heard closely how his hair scraped against the pillow. Slowly and hesitantly, Joe moved his hands away from his ears, and he groaned loudly as the noises came back with a vengeance.
"It's okay, it's okay, just listen for my voice, follow my voice, focus only on my voice. My name is Nurse Catherine Fowler, but you can call me Nurse Cathy..." And on she went as she whispered slowly and softly to me about her life, and the more she went on, the more the noises calmed and diminished, until the only voice and figure he saw was Nurse Cathy's. She must have seen how relaxed he was now, because she asked if he felt better.
He slowly blinked and squinted his eyes open, but he looked at her and gave her a small smile. "Better." Though inwardly, he had just one question. 'What the fuck was that?'
Around an hour or so, he was doing much better. His eyes finally adjusted to the light as he ate some applesauce he was given by the Doctors who came by to ask questions, run some diagnostics, and also to answer some questions of his own. 'Eight Months? Jesus Christ, might as well call me Steve Rogers, that fucking cocksucker,' Joe raged at the driver as he fed himself a spoonful of applesauce.
'And fuck me I'm hungry, I'm practically starving up in here. What I wouldn't do for some steak,' He went for another scoop, only for him to notice his tiny plastic cup was empty, "Ah fuck," he sighed, he then lamely threw the plastic cup into the trash can across the room, intending to throw the plastic spoon next, when he flinched at a loud thud and his eyes widened as he witnessed the cup leave a crack on the wall before going into the trash can. He looked at his hand in horror.
"What the fuck? What's happening to me," he whispered as he clenched and unclenched his hand.
He then heard a string being plucked from above, and he snapped his head up towards the sound, and he narrowed his eyes as he watched a small spider finish up its web. His eyes switched from the spider to the web, and he couldn't help but admire it. It looked elegant, precise, stable, and perfect for prey to— the same sound again, he snapped his eyes back to the spider, the webline still vibrating from where the spider plucked it.
'Fucking bug is taunting me, calling me webless. I'll show it webless,' Joe launched the plastic spoon up at the spider and it's web, killing and destroying both in one throw, and this time he didn't flinch at how hard he threw, the impact, or the crack, he felt like it was justified because he— "Holy shit I was jealous of a spider," Joe realized.
Before he could come to terms with his madness, the door to the room opened, revealing a smiling Nurse Cathy, "Joe, we have some visitors, I'll give you some privacy with them for a while, okay?" And the next thing he knew, his mom, dad, uncle, aunt holding a baby, came into the room, and he couldn't help but smile...wait what? His focus snapped solely to the baby. It looked small, really small, as in just out of the womb, small.
"Joey?" He heard his mom say, but all he could think of was.
'Holy Shit.' "Is that… is that a baby?" Joe asked, his voice cracking mid-sentence, not out of emotion, but pure shock. His eyes darted to May, then Ben, then to his Aunt Mary, who just chuckled softly as she bounced the baby in her arms.
"Nice to see your sarcasm's still intact," Uncle Richard smirked, arms crossed, his usual leather jacket looking somehow even more badass under the stark hospital lighting. "You sleep through a whole pregnancy, Joey. Congratulations. You're a big cousin now."
"I—what? Wait, back the fuck up." Joe's heart monitor would've beeped again if it weren't off. "You mean to tell me I went into a coma, and you guys just decided, 'Hey, you know what would really complete the trauma? A newborn.'"
"You watch your mouth in front of your cousin," Mom said, stepping forward, but there was no anger in her voice—only exhaustion laced with joy. Joe stared at her, seeing the subtle lines under her eyes, the kind that only came from months of stress, grief, and sleepless nights. She looked tired. Dad looked older. And somehow, Aunt Mary looked like she hadn't aged a day, holding the baby like she was born for it.
"What... What did you name him?" Joe asked his cousin's parents, his tone more softly now, eyes returning to the little pink face bundled in the blanket. Big dark eyes blinked up at him, curious and unaware of the mess of a world he'd just been born into, and as for asking the name, despite knowing it, wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Peter Benjamin Parker," Dad answered instead, voice filled with pride and happiness in having someone named after him.
"Poor baby," Joe joked, getting a mock glare in turn from his pops. "Can I?" He asked his Aunt Mary with extended arms.
"Of course," she said as she walked over and gently placed the newborn in his arms, murmuring how to hold him right, then taking a step back to look upon them both. Joe looked down at the quiet baby and just admired how this baby would turn out to be one of the coolest and most popular superheroes ever in comic book media.
"Joey," His mom called out, and he looked up, only to flinch and blink rapidly as he was flashed by a camera.
Continuous camera flashes blared, so he blocked them out by staring down at the wiggling baby, who stared back. "You know you pretty much fuck yourself over by being born, right," he whispered to the baby quietly enough that only the two of them could hear.
Peter answered with a cute "Eh."
"I know buddy," Joe agreed, "So did I. I guess we're just gonna have to figure out how to survive this shit together. Luckily for you, I know a few things." Joe then turned his head to the calendars on the wall, the one on the left for August, today being the 15th. His eyes settled on the calendar on the right for September, his eyes focused on one date.
The Eleventh.