Prologue

My first week as Peter Parker was...humbling, to say the least.

I was never the most responsible person. With barely two decades of life experience, I hadn't had the chance to get my act together. I was a mediocre student and an uninspired programmer. In fact, I've been called self-destructive. I knew this. So of course, the thought of filling Peter Parker's shoes was daunting. I knew that I'd probably just have to try as hard to fake it as I could, for as long as I had to.

That pretty much summed up my attitude towards my baffling presence in this strange multi-verse. I was given no explanation. There were no clues. No rules. I simply woke up in the body of a six-year-old miraculous accident survivor, Peter Parker. Peter had been in an accident and I woke up in his body at the hospital. My guess is that 'Peter' died and I had somehow occupied his reanimated body.

At first living Peter's life seemed easy. We already shared the same first name so answering to it was not a problem. It was a trade up, even. I thought I was a fairly intelligent person before, but Peter Parker's brain functioned on a different level. Look at it this way: I was able to relearn much my life's education - from school to college material - over a sparingly few years. As a toddler. Now, imagine how much Peter Parker must have actually known having functioned at that mental capacity for his entire life. Sure, it was rather intense study; but still, it really cut you down to size.

Of course, he was only a child when I took over, so he had not had the opportunity to ever flourish into his intellect. I made the decision very early on that I would not let his potential go to waste.

Finding the right words to say in the middle of a fight just to annoy my enemies seemed like it would be easy. I always seemed to have all the information and words I needed at the forefront of my mind and the tip of my tongue. It was odd. I could imagine why Peter Parker found it so entertaining, when he took up the mantle of Spider-Man.

In fact, Peter's mind was so interesting to me, I took up meditation. My everyday observations were so distinctly different now that it was almost necessary. I was always more aware, details I would gloss over before now contrast sharply in my mind. I seemed to make conclusions before conscious thought, and it felt like I was adjusting in some way.

Needless to say, the meditation helped me. It was not something I would ever have had the discipline to do in my old life; but like most things, it seemed simple in the body of Peter Parker.

By the time I had settled into his life well enough for introspection, the thoughts of comic books and heroes were far from my mind. My surroundings felt far too organic for me to think about comic book timelines and movies. The people around me were clearly real and had their own motives.

Whatever little information I could glean from my frantic research when I first arrived offered no clues to some overarching storyline — I got just a smattering of barely familiar names and historical events for my efforts.

It seemed ridiculous to expect something to happen simply because it was written that way in my old life. I should have known better because I now firmly believe that the universe tends to bend the world around the same patterns.

Which is honestly quite frightening. The thought that something was moulding the entire universe around me to its whims. It would be the height of arrogance to say I was not affected the same way.

But I digress.

The sheer amount of love and respect Peter felt for his Aunt May and Uncle Ben was staggering.

At least, that's what the comics said. I had not magically obtained Peter's memories and feelings. Which was unfortunate because accomplishing Peter's daily routine was hard enough as it was.

Peter Parker was a nerd. The only reason I had any idea how to imitate his day in the first place was because of his extensive note keeping. This kid was insane. Hadn't he ever heard of a voice recorder? I mean, a ton of those scribbles were just general observations. He was just a six-year-old for Christ’s sake.

From his doodles, I got the impression that he didn’t have a lot of friends. Most people didn’t get along with him and he tended to find them pretty boring too. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been lonely though. Pretty much the only people in Peter’s life were his Aunt and Uncle, they were his world.

His notes were chock full of his plans for the future, various titbits of information and observations and even remarkably well thought out pranks and toys.

I dove into living a facade of his life with a rather sickening willingness. Something I've long since began thinking of as an insult to not only him, but aunt May and Uncle Ben as well.

And I suppose they are the root of the problem.

As an orphan, the love and devotion they showered on 'Peter' was addictive. I was living the childhood I had always wanted, and I loved it. But as I said, the world felt organic. It took three years before the haze shook off and I realised how horribly I was treating the only two parental figures I have ever had.

Sure, I was the perfect nephew. I got the best grades. Did not get into fights. Helped aunt May around the house as much as I could. But I was not actually Peter. I was just pretending to be him as well as I could.

After years of waiting for the ball to drop, I had almost accepted that I was stuck in Peter Parker's body for good. Which meant that I would have to continue this lie for the rest of my life. Just the thought of it made my skin crawl.

But what could I do about it? I was always a non-confrontational person. Simply telling Uncle Ben and Aunt May made me anxious and, as a plus, it was logically insane so maybe that was not the best idea.

But they deserved to know.

Their nephew was dead, and I had been lying to them for over two years. The thought of continuing such a lie to people so good was abhorrent to me. Copping out because of the off chance they put me in a mental asylum was not acceptable. I know them, they would never do that to Peter. It would be hard, but it had to be done.

"May, Ben; we need to talk," I said, deciding to drop the honorifics. It felt wrong to use them given the conversation I was trying to have.

"What is it Peter?" Aunt May asked worriedly. She left the kitchen and sat on the couch by Uncle Ben, folding her oven mitts out of the way.

Uncle Ben looked just as concerned as I fidgeted and shifted by the TV in front of them. I had come into this half-cocked but thank Peter Parker for his intellect.

"I'm sure you've noticed me behave differently over the past two years." I started.

"Where is this coming from, son?" said Uncle Ben while May squeezed his shoulder worriedly.

The accident two three years ago was a rough time for them. Peter had been in a coma for two weeks and May and Ben had no idea if he would wake or not. By the time I had entered Peter's body it was fairly well recovered, and I did not have to suffer much of the effects of the accident. Of course, I was still in the hospital for a week of observation and I had a month of prescription drugs to take. But I still believe I got off easy.

"There's something you need to know."