A few days after the Stark Expo incident, Ben and Mary Jane walked toward their usual bus stop together, their breath visible in the crisp morning air. Peter had already sprinted ahead with typical Parker punctuality, claiming the best spot on the platform while they took their time.
Mary Jane's eyes sparkled with amusement as she adjusted her messenger bag. "You know, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you take the school bus like the rest of us peasants when you literally own a multi-million dollar company."
Ben shrugged, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. "I'd rather not paint a target on my back. Besides, the whole 'mysterious teenage billionaire' thing gets old fast." His expression grew more serious. "Plus, Mom and Dad are still in Queens. If my identity gets out, their lives get complicated real fast."
The thought of May Parker being swarmed by reporters or worse made his stomach churn. He could already picture Mary Jane's aunt Anna crossing the street to avoid talking to May, intimidated by the Parker family's sudden elevation in status.
"Smart thinking," Mary Jane nodded approvingly. "Though I have to ask—aren't you worried about security? I mean, kidnapping rich kids is kind of a classic villain move."
Ben's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Let's just say I've made some upgrades to our home security system."
Over the past few days, Ben had been working tirelessly on modifying the Hammer Tech robot drones he'd acquired. Using Upgrade's technological intuition combined with the analytical capabilities of Grey Matter, he'd completely overhauled the clunky military hardware.
The original steel robots had been designed for one thing: looking intimidating while firing indiscriminately at enemies. Everything about them screamed "weapon of war," from their bulky armor plating to their excessive firepower. Ben had stripped away all the unnecessary bulk, starting with the heavy outer shells that Hammer had only included to differentiate them from Stark's sleeker designs.
The weapons systems had been the next to go. Ben wasn't building an army—he was creating guardians. The crude missile launchers and machine guns were replaced with precision laser systems that could incapacitate threats without leveling city blocks. The former ammunition compartments now housed advanced medical kits and emergency supplies.
But the real genius was in the software. Ben had programmed them with extensive databases on emergency medicine, threat assessment, and civilian protection protocols. They could provide first aid, call for backup, and most importantly, distinguish between actual threats and nosy reporters.
The only remaining issue was their size. Even streamlined, the robots were too conspicuous to follow May and Ben Sr. around Queens. Instead, Ben had equipped his adoptive parents with discrete panic buttons that would summon the Iron Guard within minutes.
"Here comes our chariot," Mary Jane announced as the familiar yellow school bus rumbled into view, belching exhaust into the morning air.
Peter waved at them from his spot near the front, his camera bag slung over his shoulder as always. Ben noticed the slight bags under his cousin's eyes—another late night patrol, no doubt.
They climbed aboard to find Flash Thompson practically vibrating with excitement in his seat. The moment he spotted Ben, he shot up like a rocket, nearly hitting his head on the bus ceiling.
"Ben! Dude, tell me you made it to the Expo!" Flash's voice carried his trademark mix of enthusiasm and hero worship. "I heard Spider-Man showed up and everything! I can't believe I missed it because my mom dragged me to some boring family dinner!"
Flash's face was a masterpiece of teenage regret. His usual confident swagger was replaced by the kind of anguish reserved for missing once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.
Ben slid into a seat across the aisle, Mary Jane settling beside him. "Yeah, I was there. Spent most of my time in the Primus Technologies venue, though. Didn't catch any superhero action firsthand."
The identity of Primus's mysterious young CEO remained one of New York's best-kept secrets, and Ben intended to keep it that way. The fewer people who connected Ben Parker to his corporate empire, the better.
Flash's shoulders sagged dramatically. "Man, what a waste! You were right there and missed the action!"
"Actually," Flash perked up again, leaning forward with the intensity of a sports commentator, "speaking of Spider-Man, did you hear about that new guy? Prime? The black Spider-Man? The Daily Bugle says Spider-Man called him that during the fight."
"I caught something about it on the news," Ben replied carefully. "Why?"
Flash's question immediately drew the attention of half the bus. Conversations about superheroes were like catnip to their fellow students, and Ben could feel multiple pairs of ears tuning in.
"We've been having this epic debate," Flash continued, his voice taking on the tone of someone about to deliver a TED talk. "Who do you think would win in a fight—Spider-Man or this new Prime guy?"
Ben caught Peter's eye in the reflection of the bus window. His cousin looked genuinely curious about what he'd say, probably still nursing some insecurity about his performance against the Green Goblin. Ben had tried to explain that holding back to avoid casualties wasn't the same as being weak, but Peter was still his own harshest critic.
"That's easy," Ben said without hesitation. "Spider-Man, no contest."
Peter's eyebrows shot up in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. He'd been comparing himself to Ben's more aggressive Prime persona for weeks, always coming up short in his own mind.
Flash, meanwhile, practically glowed with vindication. "See! I told you guys! Ben gets it—he's obviously got good taste in heroes!"
But their classmate Eddie Brock, who'd been eavesdropping from two rows back, wasn't convinced. "Come on, that's ridiculous. Spider-Man's been playing tag with the Green Goblin for over a month and getting nowhere. This Prime guy shows up once and boom—problem solved. Results don't lie."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Flash shot back, his voice rising with passion. "You're all thinking about this wrong!"
He stood up, nearly losing his balance as the bus hit a pothole, and gestured dramatically at his Spider-Man t-shirt. "You want to know why Ben's right? Because you're all judging Spider-Man like he's some kind of video game character where higher numbers equal better hero!"
Ben watched, fascinated, as Flash Thompson—notorious school bully and general meathead—transformed into Spider-Man's most articulate defender.
"Sure, maybe Prime hits harder. Maybe Iron Man has better tech. But Spider-Man?" Flash's voice took on an almost reverent quality. "Spider-Man's the real deal. He's the only hero who actually cares about regular people. While all the big shots are off fighting mutant bird and robots, Spider-Man's the guy who'll help you get your cat out of a tree."
The bus had gone completely silent. Even the driver was stealing glances in the rearview mirror.
"When's the last time you saw Iron Man stop a purse snatching?" Flash continued, warming to his theme. "Or help some kid who's lost? Spider-Man doesn't just fight the big villains—he makes sure everyone in New York knows they matter. He's not just a superhero, he's Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
Ben felt a genuine smile spread across his face. For all his faults, Flash Thompson understood something that most people missed about Spider-Man. It wasn't about power levels or win-loss records—it was about heart.
Peter, meanwhile, looked like he might cry. Ben could practically see the weight lifting off his shoulders as Flash's words sank in. Sometimes you needed to hear from someone else that your approach was right, that protecting people was more important than looking impressive.
"Peter, you look like you're about to hurl," Flash said, noticing Peter's emotional expression and immediately reverting to his usual blunt self. "Whatever, just... sit somewhere else."
As Peter shuffled away, still processing Flash's unexpected tribute, Ben felt a different kind of emotion building in his chest. It started as pride in his cousin, but quickly morphed into something much less pleasant.
Ben reached over and clapped Flash on the shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. "Hey Flash, where exactly did you get that Spider-Man shirt?"
Flash looked down at his chest, clearly confused by the sudden change in Ben's tone. "This? Got it from Nike. They've got a whole superhero line now. I heard they're working on a Prime version too, and they're trying to get the rights for Iron Man merchandise."
Ben's grip tightened slightly on Flash's shoulder. "Rights? What rights?"
"You know, licensing deals and stuff. Though I guess it's harder with the masked guys since nobody knows who they are to ask permission."
Ben felt his jaw clench. While Peter was out risking his life every night, barely scraping together enough money for web fluid, some corporate executives were making bank off his image. The same image that J. Jonah Jameson spent every day trying to tear down.
"Flash," Ben said, his voice taking on a deceptively calm tone, "do you realize that's a bootleg?"
"What?"
"That shirt. It's stolen merchandise. Nike doesn't have the rights to Spider-Man's image any more than they have the rights to use Mickey Mouse or Star Wars."
Flash's face went through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, disbelief, and finally horror. "But... but they're selling them in stores!"
"That doesn't make it legal," Ben replied, already pulling out his phone to text Eunice. "Spider-Man's image is his intellectual property. Just because he's anonymous doesn't mean companies can steal from him."
Ben's fingers flew across his phone screen, sending detailed instructions to his AI assistant. By the time he was done, Eunice would have legal papers ready to file against every company manufacturing unauthorized Spider-Man merchandise.
Flash started to pull at his shirt, clearly ready to tear it off then and there, but Ben stopped him. "Don't worry about it. The damage is done. But for future reference, Spider-Man just signed an exclusive licensing deal with Primus Technologies. Any legitimate Spider-Man merchandise will be through them from now on."
Peter's head snapped up from across the aisle. "He what now?"
"Spider-Man and Primus," Ben repeated smoothly. "Makes sense, really. Primus has been supporting local heroes with equipment and technological resources. Natural partnership."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Primus had been providing Peter with upgraded web-shooters and suit modifications for weeks. A licensing deal was just making it official.
Flash nodded eagerly, clearly ready to support his hero's business ventures. "That's awesome! I'll definitely buy the official stuff. But wait..." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know about a secret licensing deal? Are you like, connected to Primus or something?"
Ben felt his stomach drop. Two minutes ago he'd been smoothly handling the situation, and now Flash was connecting dots that Ben really didn't want connected.
"Could you be..." Flash's voice dropped to a whisper, "Spider-Man?"
"No!" Ben said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "I mean, obviously not. Do I look like I can stick to walls?"
Flash studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, you're right. You're way too tall. Spider-Man's more compact, athletic build. Plus your voices are completely different."
Ben mentally thanked whatever cosmic force was looking out for him. "Exactly. I just have a friend who works for Primus. inside information and all that."
Before Flash could ask more probing questions, Ben glanced over at Peter, who was trying very hard not to laugh at the entire situation. The sight of his cousin's barely contained amusement sparked an idea.
"Actually," Ben said, loud enough for Peter to hear, "my friend mentioned they're always looking for good photographers. Someone who can get exclusive shots of Spider-Man for marketing materials. Know anyone who might be interested?"
Peter's eyes widened as he realized what Ben was doing. A steady income from Spider-Man photography, backed by Primus's resources, would solve a lot of problems.
"I might know someone," Peter said carefully.
"Perfect. I'll put in a good word."
By the time the bus pulled up to Midtown High School, Ben had successfully redirected the conversation, set up a revenue stream for Peter, and begun the process of legally protecting his cousin's image rights. Not bad for a twenty-minute bus ride.
But as they filed off the bus, Ben couldn't help but stare at the school in front of them. The transformation was so dramatic that several students had stopped in their tracks, gaping at what used to be their modest public school.
"Holy..." Mary Jane breathed, her voice trailing off as she took in the sight.
Midtown High School had been completely rebuilt from the ground up. What had once been a standard brick building with narrow hallways and flickering fluorescent lights was now a gleaming modern campus that looked more like a private university than a public high school.
The entrance alone was impressive—a grand archway made of polished stone and glass that rose three stories high. Bronze plaques commemorated various academic achievements and donor contributions, with Norman Osborn's name prominently featured.
"It's like someone took a normal school and fed it steroids," Peter muttered, adjusting his camera bag as he prepared to document the transformation.
"And money," Ben added. "Lots and lots of money."
"This is all because of Harry's dad?" Mary Jane asked, still craning her neck to take in the full scope of the renovation.
Ben nodded. "Uncle Norman wanted Harry to transfer here from his private school. Figured the best way to ensure Harry got a good education was to make sure the school could provide one."
It was typical Norman Osborn logic—identify a problem, throw money at it until it goes away, then throw more money at it to make sure it stays away.
"I heard he's also compensating Dr. Connors for the damage to the original building," Ben continued as they walked through the impressive entrance. "Apparently Norman felt responsible since the Lizard incident started with his research."
Inside, the transformation was even more dramatic. The narrow, cramped hallways had been replaced with wide corridors lined with natural light from strategically placed skylights. The old linoleum floors were now polished hardwood, and the walls were decorated with rotating displays of student artwork and academic achievements.
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," Peter said, pointing to an escalator that led to the second-floor cafeteria. "Who needs an escalator for two floors?"
"The same person who apparently thinks students can handle six flights of stairs to get to the dorms," Mary Jane replied, gesturing toward the traditional staircase that led to the newly constructed boarding facilities.
Ben chuckled. "You're thinking about this wrong. The administrators don't live in the dorms, but they do have to eat lunch. Guess which one got the convenience upgrade?"
"Capitalist logic at its finest," Mary Jane said dryly. "Though I have to admit, I'm hoping some of that money went toward fixing the air conditioning in the classrooms."
"Speaking of which," Ben said, checking his watch, "don't you have band practice today? I should probably come check it out—you know, for moral support and definitely not because I'm looking for future talent to sign to Primus Entertainment."
Mary Jane shot him a look that was half amused, half exasperated. "First of all, there is no Primus Entertainment. Second, I told you I'm not interested in becoming a professional musician."
"What changed your mind?" Ben asked, genuinely curious. A few months ago, Mary Jane had been all about pursuing a career in entertainment.
Mary Jane's expression darkened. "I was talking to Felicia about the industry, and she gave me some pretty harsh reality checks. Apparently, making it as a female performer has less to do with talent and more to do with... let's call them 'compromises.'"
Ben's jaw tightened. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and the thought of Mary Jane being subjected to that kind of treatment made his protective instincts flare.
"The whole system's disgusting," Mary Jane continued, her voice rising with indignation. "According to Felicia, most of the successful actresses and singers had to deal with some form of harassment or worse just to get their careers started. I'm not about to sell my soul for fame."
"That's easily solved," Ben said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I happen to be capital. Miss Watson, would you be interested in letting me be your patron?"
Mary Jane's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Benjamin Parker, are you trying to proposition me?"
"I'm trying to offer you a legitimate business opportunity," Ben replied, though his grin suggested he was enjoying her reaction. "Primus could use a good spokesperson, and you've got the talent and the look. No compromises, no harassment, just good old-fashioned nepotism."
"Oh, well when you put it like that..." Mary Jane's mock-serious tone cracked as she started to smile. "I mean, I suppose I could be persuaded. For the right price."
"I'll have my people call your people," Ben said solemnly.
"I don't have people."
"I'll buy you some people."
Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of their homeroom teacher, Ms. Ramos, who was clearly still adjusting to the school's new reality.
"Alright, everyone, I know the new building is impressive, but we still have actual learning to do," she announced, though she seemed just as distracted by the upgraded facilities as her students.
As they filed into their newly renovated classroom—complete with individual climate control and state-of-the-art smartboards—Ben caught Peter's eye and nodded toward the window. In the distance, he could see one of his modified guardian drones conducting a routine patrol, its sleek form barely visible against the morning sky.
The pieces were falling into place. Peter's financial situation was about to improve dramatically, his secret identity was better protected than ever, and Ben had successfully begun the process of turning superhero merchandising into a legitimate revenue stream.
Of course, he still had to figure out how to explain to Peter that he'd just committed Spider-Man to a licensing deal without asking. But that was a problem for later.
For now, Ben was content to settle into his desk and pretend to be a normal high school student. Even if his definition of "normal" included running a multi-billion dollar corporation and secretly protecting the city as an alien shapeshifter.
Just another typical day in the life of Ben Parker.
After all, with great power came great responsibility—and apparently, great paperwork.