Peter quickly tossed the "size" issue to the back of his mind, his eyes gleaming as he pulled the red-and-blue suit from its housing.
Small or not, nobody's going to see the tags, he thought. But a suit this slick? That's a lifetime of bragging rights.
With the lack of modesty that comes from growing up in the same house, Peter stripped down to his boxers right there in the lab and began pulling the high-tech fabric over his limbs.
Moments later, a brand-new, factory-fresh Spider-Man stood before Toby.
Peter struck a classic pose, hands on his hips. "Well? Be honest. Do I look like a total badass or what?"
Toby rubbed his chin, circling Peter like a shark inspecting a new reef. "Tsk, tsk. Not bad, Pete. That suit was definitely made for you."
"Of course it was! It's not like you could fit in it," Peter joked, completely missing the deeper meaning in Toby's words.
Toby wasn't just talking about the physical dimensions. It was the aura. Even in a mask, Peter radiated a sense of approachability, safety, and kindness—the kind of hero who would help an old lady cross the street and stay to chat about her cat.
Toby, on the other hand, was built different. Even when he wasn't speaking, his presence was heavy, dangerous, and oppressive. If Peter was the "Friendly Neighborhood Hero," Toby was the "Super Bully" who would throw dirt in your eye just to see you blink.
While Peter was busy testing the flexibility of his new skin, Toby walked over to the third display case and pulled out his own black-and-crimson gear.
The second Toby pulled the mask over his face, sealing the lenses, Peter's world changed.
Peter's hair stood on end. His skin erupted in goosebumps so violent they felt like needles. It was as if every instinct in his body had suddenly screamed RUN.
Without thinking, Peter scrambled backward, his body dropping into a low, defensive crouch. It wasn't a conscious choice; it was a biological imperative. His body had activated its defensive protocols before his brain even knew there was a threat.
Peter stared at Toby, his heart hammering against his ribs. Through his visor, Toby looked taller, wider, and infinitely more lethal. And behind him... was it an illusion? Peter thought he saw a ghostly silhouette—a monstrous, tri-colored spider, its legs reaching out to encompass the entire room.
"Peter? What's wrong?"
Toby pulled his mask back up, revealing his familiar face. The crushing weight of the danger sense immediately began to recede.
Toby recognized the reaction instantly. Spider-Sense. But something was off. He hadn't felt any killing intent toward Peter. He wasn't planning an attack. So why had Peter's sense flared like he was facing an Omega-level threat? This wasn't the "brotherly connection" he'd read about. This was the instinct of a prey animal recognizing a predator.
It took Peter several long seconds to find his voice. He was panting, cold sweat slicking his skin beneath the suit.
"I... I don't know," Peter stammered. "The moment you put that mask on, I felt this... this insane pressure. Like a 'King' looking down at a 'Peasant.' It felt like I was standing in front of something that could erase me without even trying."
"And... I think I saw something. A giant spider behind you. Black, red, and blue."
Toby's eyes narrowed. The Tri-Color Spider? That was the spider that had killed him in his previous life—the one that had likely granted him his powers upon reincarnation. He'd assumed his current abilities were the full extent of the gift. But now, it seemed there was a hierarchy he hadn't accounted for.
Even more interesting was Toby's own reaction. Looking at Peter's visible fear, Toby didn't feel protective. He felt a strange, dark urge. Not hunger, and certainly not lust—but a primal, territorial instinct to crush Peter into the dirt. To assert dominance.
A "Spider-Sense" of his own told him that if he defeated Peter, he might actually gain something from it.
Toby wasn't one for theorizing. He preferred empirical data. He cracked his neck and gave Peter a grin that was a little too predatory to be "friendly."
"Peter, you've got the power now. But power is useless if your mind is brittle. You're shaking like a leaf."
"You need to build up some 'resistance.' You need to learn how to stay calm when you're facing a monster that actually wants to kill you."
Peter watched Toby approach, his grin looking more like a snarl. His danger sense began to thrum again, a low, ominous vibration in the back of his skull.
"Resistance?" Peter swallowed hard. "How do I do that?"
Toby balled his hands into fists, each step heavy and deliberate. "Isn't it obvious? Practical application. Nothing makes a man grow up faster than feeling the weight of a superior foe."
Toby's final words were the trigger. Peter's heart rate spiked to three times the human norm. His Spider-Sense wasn't just tingling now; it was a goddamn air-raid siren.
He realized Toby wasn't joking. This was happening.
Hell no! Peter thought. I just got these powers! I'm a Level 1 hero! Why am I fighting the Level 99 Hidden Boss in my own basement?!
Without a word, Peter spun on his heel and bolted. With a speed and agility that surprised even himself, he blurred across the floor, wall-crawling up the shaft and lunging back into the first-floor gym in a single, desperate streak of red and blue.