When Peter Parker saw the article online,
he knew at once—his uneasy premonition had come true.
Something bad really had happened.
That report… it had to be about what went down at their school today.
And it wasn't just bad—it was terrible.
As someone who had actually been there,
Peter knew exactly what had happened.
Sure, the general outline in the article wasn't entirely wrong…
but the details—those were completely off.
Yes, Superman had struck over a hundred students.
But why didn't the report mention what those students had done before that?
And besides, it was just a single slap each—
nothing serious at all.
But in the news, it became: "hundreds of students injured."
The cases of Eugene and his two buddies were real enough, sure,
but the entire tone of the report was full of blame toward Superman.
That, Peter couldn't understand.
And beneath the article, the comments section had exploded—
some people questioning Superman,
others standing firmly in his defense.
"Superman actually hit students?"
"What gives him the right to do that?"
"Didn't Superman take down that brown monster last time? Why would he attack high schoolers now?"
"Exactly—it's definitely fake."
"Even if he did hit them, Superman must've had a reason!" Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⁂𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⁂𝘯𝘦𝘵
"A reason? He's insanely strong—why would he hit teenagers?"
"Three of them were seriously injured. Broken bones! You try breaking your leg and see how it feels!"
"I'm a student from Midtown High, I was there! Superman slapped me too."
"But really, that doesn't count as an injury."
"And Superman did have his reasons."
"I got hit, and honestly, I think I deserved it."
"What reasons? Say it!"
"Can't say? Hah, you're just a Superman fanboy."
"Pretending to be a Midtown student. Obvious."
"I am a student there!"
"Superman went too far this time."
"Maybe there's more to it. Let's wait and see."
"Exactly—I still trust Superman."
The comments were endless.
Some stood with Superman, convinced he couldn't have done something so cruel.
Others, enraged by the report, demanded his arrest—
at the very least, a public apology and restrictions on his actions.
A few, more cautious voices insisted the full truth needed to come out first.
"How can people say that…?"
Peter's anger boiled over.
The more he read, the angrier he became.
He knew what really happened.
When he tried to defend Superman in the comments,
he immediately got accused of being a "blind fanboy."
Peter could only sigh helplessly.
Sure, he was a Superman fan,
but that didn't mean what he said wasn't true.
Still, people kept arguing back.
And he had a good guess who had leaked it to the press—
the article mentioned that the source was a "seriously injured student."
That narrowed it down.
It had to be one of Eugene's two friends.
Eugene himself had changed—he no longer held any grudge toward Superman.
But the other two? That was another story.
"Tch… should've known better than to buy those jerks lunch."
"What a bunch of idiots!"
Peter grumbled furiously, shut his laptop,
and went to grab a drink from the fridge.
"Hey," he greeted, as Aunt May worked over the stove.
Without looking up from chopping vegetables, May said,
"Spaghetti and meatballs tonight."
Peter opened the fridge, grabbed an apple juice, and asked,
"You sure about that?"
"Spaghetti and meatballs," she repeated.
"When have you ever not liked spaghetti and meatballs?"
Then she turned and caught sight of Peter's bruised cheek.
"What?" Peter blinked.
"Your face! What happened?"
Peter had almost forgotten about the punch Eugene landed on him that morning.
"It's nothing," he said quickly.
"Fell off my skateboard, that's all."
He really didn't want his aunt to worry—
or worse, to know he'd been hit.
That'd just be embarrassing.
Uncle Ben walked in just then, lugging a cardboard box.
"Ben Parker!" May exclaimed.
"Don't you dare dump that filthy thing in my kitchen!"
"But honey, it's my bowling trophies…"
"Oh, well in that case," she said dryly, "please, by all means,
put your filthy box right in my kitchen."
Peter nearly spat out his juice trying not to laugh.
Then Uncle Ben noticed Peter's face.
"What happened to you, champ?"
"He fell," May answered before Peter could.
"And I'll never understand why kids do such stupid, dangerous things."
"They're supposed to, that's what being young is," Ben said lightly.
"Remember how dumb we were?"
"I do not," May shot back.
Ben chuckled and turned to Peter.
"Trust me, kiddo, we've all been there."
Peter smiled. "Good to know."
Then he noticed Ben's bare, wet feet.
"What happened to you?"
"Come on, I'll show you."
Peter followed him downstairs to the basement storage room.
Turns out the water leakage was coming from a busted condenser.
Without proper tools, there wasn't much they could do tonight—
they'd have to fix it tomorrow.
As they were cleaning up, Ben handed Peter an ice pack and asked suddenly,
"So… how's the other guy?"
"Oh, come on," Ben said with a grin.
"You really think I didn't notice?"
"Want me to call your father about it?"
Ben just laughed and carried a few boxes upstairs—
old keepsakes that couldn't afford to get wet.
"Take a look around before you come up," he called.
"See if there's anything useful down here."
Peter started rummaging through the shelves.
Then, suddenly—he stopped.
There, tucked away in a dusty corner,
was a brown leather briefcase.
He remembered it clearly
his father had used it when he was little.
WORLDWIDE SUPERMAN STRENGTH
🔹 Dimension Walker – 15 chapters ahead