Queens High School
The morning sun cast lazy rays across the cracked pavement of Queens High School, bouncing off the faded brick walls that had seen generations of students hustle through their doors. The world outside was its usual chaos, but inside the gates, life slowed into a rhythm of gossip, half-hearted morning yawns, and the dull anticipation of yet another school day.
Aaron Parker adjusted the strap of his satchel, walking with his usual calm precision, his steps quiet amidst the backdrop of teenage chatter. His sharp eyes scanned nothing in particular, yet absorbed everything. To anyone watching, he was just a student—calm, detached, the kid who always topped the tests without effort. To Aaron, the morning was another calculated routine.
Beside him, Peter Parker was already in full chatter-mode.
"I'm telling you, Aaron, the guy wasn't using cables. It was actual webbing. Organic, maybe? Or tech? Could be a prototype from Oscorp!" Peter's hands moved wildly as he theorized, almost tripping over his own feet.
Aaron didn't bother looking at him. "Or maybe you just saw a guy who's really good at parkour. You ever consider that?"
Peter gave him a sideways glare. "For someone so smart, you've got zero sense of wonder."
"I prefer facts over fantasy," Aaron replied smoothly.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Ned Leeds, their self-proclaimed 'guy in the chair' and conspiracy expert. He jogged up to them, backpack bouncing wildly.
"Dudes! You heard about the bank heist last night? Some new villain with tech gloves! Fried the ATMs like toasters!" Ned puffed, barely keeping up with his own excitement.
Peter's eyes lit up. "See? I'm not crazy, Aaron. The city's crawling with people doing insane stuff. We're probably classmates with a few of them."
Aaron's reply was a simple, disinterested shrug.
From behind, a familiar voice cut through. "If any of us were secret villains, I'd bet on Parker here. He's got that 'I'm secretly plotting your doom' look."
Michelle Jones—MJ to those who dared. She approached with her signature deadpan expression, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. She wasn't someone who wasted words, but when she spoke, people listened.
Aaron's lips twitched. "I'd never plot your doom, MJ. Waste of my time."
She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Wow. Compliment or insult? I'll let you decide."
As a group, they made their way through the crowded hallway, weaving through lockers and morning chaos. Students gave them passing glances, some muttering under their breath. It wasn't Peter who drew attention—he blended into the crowd with his dorky charm. It was Aaron.
There was something about Aaron Parker that made people uneasy. Maybe it was his calmness amidst chaos. Or the way he always seemed... a beat ahead. He was untouchable in academics, but never flaunted it. He didn't start fights, but no one wanted to test him either.
Rumors whispered through the hallways.
"Parker's a machine."
"He's too perfect. Like... not normal perfect."
"He once finished a math exam before I even wrote my name."
Aaron heard them all. He didn't care.
Their first class was Advanced Physics—a subject Peter thrived in, much to Aaron's disinterest. They filed into the classroom, claiming their usual spots. Aaron chose the seat by the window. He liked observing—the city outside was a better teacher than half the curriculum.
MJ slid into the seat diagonally behind him, her sketchbook open, though her eyes often drifted to Aaron as if studying an anomaly. Ned sat next to Peter, already pulling out his notebook filled with doodles of imagined supervillains.
The bell rang. Class began.
Mr. Callahan, their grumpy but brilliant physics teacher, launched into a lecture about wave-particle duality. His voice droned, filling the room with the kind of energy that put half the class into a coma within minutes.
Aaron leaned back, propping his elbow on the desk, his chin resting against his palm. His eyes were half-lidded, but his mind was wide awake, processing equations in the background while listening to Peter scribble furiously beside him.
He wasn't paying attention to the desk.
Not until he felt it—
—the wood beneath his elbow buckling.
A sharp, faint crack echoed. To anyone else, it would've been a creak, the sound of old furniture. But Aaron's senses were honed beyond that. He felt the fibers split, microscopic fractures blooming from where his elbow casually rested.
His eyes flickered down.
A hairline crack snaked across the desk's surface, right under his arm. It wasn't visible to others, but to him, it was glaring. The desk hadn't been defective. His calculations, his posture—everything had been correct.
And yet… the desk had cracked.
Aaron slowly lifted his elbow, his face unreadable. His mind, however, was running a thousand simulations. The pressure he applied should've been negligible. Barely twenty percent of the threshold needed to cause such damage. And yet—
"Either the desk is defective… or I am."
He straightened his posture, folding his arms casually across his chest, masking the tension rolling beneath his skin.
Peter, oblivious, kept jotting down notes, glancing up every now and then to murmur enthusiastic comments about photon behavior.
But MJ noticed.
Her eyes flicked from the desk to Aaron. She leaned forward slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "Careful, Parker. You'll break the furniture with that ego of yours."
Aaron's head tilted, his gaze shifting to meet hers.
"I only break what's worth breaking," he replied smoothly, his tone flat but the undercurrent sharp.
MJ smirked, unbothered. "Guess I'm safe then."
Ned, seated beside Peter, chose that moment to break the simmering tension with his usual clueless timing.
"Hey, did you guys know there's a theory that mutants are just humans whose brains evolved faster than their bodies? Like, their minds unlocked new levels, and their bodies are catching up." He nudged Aaron. "Kinda like you, man. You're like... a functional mutant prototype."
Aaron's fingers tapped against the cracked desk, each tap precise, rhythmic.
"I'm nothing like them, Ned," he said softly. "I don't evolve by chance."
Ned laughed, not catching the weight in his words.
Peter, however, did glance at Aaron, noticing the slight edge in his tone. "Everything good, man?"
Aaron nodded once. "Perfectly."
But he wasn't.
He could feel it now. A subtle hum beneath his skin, like a machine warming up after years of idle silence. The sunlight filtering through the classroom window seemed denser around him. Warmer. His muscles ached—not with pain, but with contained energy.
His control—so precise, so calculated—was slipping.
The bell rang, ending the lecture. Students shuffled out, their conversations rising into a background buzz. Aaron stood up slowly, adjusting the strap of his satchel. His hand grazed the cracked desk surface as he rose.
No one else noticed.
But MJ lingered by the door, watching him with a curious glint in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but Aaron knew she had seen more than she let on.
As they exited the classroom, Aaron felt it—a faint prickling sensation along the back of his neck. Like being observed through a lens.
He glanced out the window.
For a fraction of a second, a small drone zipped past the school's perimeter, blending into the cityscape as if it had never been there. Too small for civilian tech. Too precise to be random.
Aaron's jaw tightened.
He knew surveillance when he sensed it.
"You good?" Peter asked, falling into step beside him, unaware of the drone, unaware of the crack in the desk, unaware that Aaron's body had just disobeyed his mind.
"I'm fine," Aaron replied. It was a lie, but it was efficient.
As they walked down the hallway, MJ's voice floated from behind them. "You're not as untouchable as you think, Parker."
Aaron didn't look back.
We'll see.