~The Other Parker~
Death wasn't supposed to feel this way.
I had imagined fire, pain, maybe even that endless nothing people talk about when they joke about the afterlife. But instead, there was only quiet. Then, slowly, I opened my eyes—not to some divine throne or fiery pit, but to the blurry faces of a man and woman leaning over me.
"Congratulations, May. He's beautiful," the man said, his voice trembling.
May.
My foggy brain registered the name at once. Aunt May. My heart lurched in my chest. I wasn't dead—well, no, I was—but now I was staring into the eyes of Benjamin Parker, the man who would one day be remembered for his tragic wisdom.
And I was in his arms.
That was the moment I realized: I had been reborn.
Not just into any family. I was in the Parker family. And worse—no, better—I wasn't Peter Parker. I was his big brother.
My name became Ethan Parker. Two years older than Peter, I grew up in the warm, if humble, household of Ben and May Parker. They weren't rich. We didn't have much more than the small house in Queens, a few old family photos, and endless love to go around. But for me—someone who had lived a full life before and carried memories of another world—it was paradise.
Peter was a quiet, timid child. Always nose-deep in books, always curious, always soft-spoken. Kids at school didn't like him much, and they liked me only slightly more. The Parker boys weren't the cool ones. But that was okay. I had no interest in standing out.
Instead, I had a secret.
Around age five, I noticed it. When I was playing with some kids in the park, one of them was showing off karate moves he'd learned from a local dojo. He punched and kicked clumsily, but when I watched… I felt something click. My body moved before I could think. I mimicked his sloppy kick—but when my foot struck the air, it felt cleaner, sharper, perfected.
The kid's jaw dropped. "Whoa, you learn karate too?"
I shook my head, feigning ignorance. But inside, my mind was racing.
I had a power.
Mimicry.
If I saw someone do something, I could copy it. And not just clumsily—my body refined it, adjusted it, made it my own. Whether it was sports, music, or even handwriting, if I saw it, I could do it.
At first, I tested it in small ways. I copied Peter's handwriting once, scaring him when he thought his homework had written itself. I mimicked Uncle Ben's carpentry when he was fixing the squeaky porch step. I even sang once after hearing a pop song on the radio, my voice nearly matching the singer's pitch.
But I kept it quiet. In this world—the Marvel world—being special wasn't always a blessing. It was a target. And I wasn't about to paint one on my back.
So I became what I had promised myself: low-key.
Being Peter's big brother was… different. In my old life, I'd never had a sibling. Now, I had this awkward, brilliant little brother who followed me around like a shadow. He'd tug at my sleeve while I read comics, bombard me with questions about science, or beg me to help him with school bullies.
And I always did.
When Flash Thompson shoved him into a locker one day, I was there. I didn't fight Flash—I wasn't stupid—but I used my Mimic ability to repeat a perfect, cutting remark I'd heard a teacher use once. Flash backed off, confused, and Peter walked away with his pride intact.
I became his shield in ways he never noticed. The older brother who covered for him when he stayed up too late building Lego towers. The one who distracted Aunt May so Peter could sneak snacks before dinner. The one who slipped in front of him when cars sped too close to the sidewalk.
Peter didn't know it, but his destiny had a silent guardian.
~Time Skip
The years passed quickly. By the time Peter and I were in high school, life had settled into a routine. I stayed average—average grades, average sports, average attention. No one suspected that behind the mask of normalcy, I carried memories of a different world and a power I barely scratched the surface of.
Then came the trip to Oscorp.
"Peter, slow down," I muttered as my younger brother practically bounced in place while the tour guide droned on about genetic engineering.
"Are you kidding? This is amazing!" Peter's eyes shone behind his glasses. "Do you have any idea what they're doing here? Cross-species genetics could change the world."
I chuckled softly. Yeah, I know exactly what's about to happen.
We walked through the labs, the sterile glass walls glinting with reflections of scientists and students alike. And then, in that infamous moment, it happened.
A spider.
It dangled from the ceiling, mutated and glowing faintly under the lights. And before I could "accidentally" stop it, it dropped—landing squarely on Peter's hand.
He yelped, swatting it away, but the damage was done.
I watched quietly, my chest tightening. Here it is. The start of Spider-Man.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
The days after the trip were strange. Peter began to change. His body grew stronger, leaner. His reflexes sharpened. He smashed an alarm clock by accident one morning, sending Aunt May into a panic.
I watched it all carefully, pretending to be surprised.
But secretly, I tested something.
One evening, while Peter slept, I touched his arm lightly. My power flared—not with skill, not with something external, but with raw energy. For the first time, I wasn't copying a human action. I was copying something… more.
The next morning, when a fly buzzed past my ear, I swatted at it—and hit it midair with impossible speed.
Spider-Sense.
My heart thundered. I had his powers. And they worked even better in me.
My Mimicry had optimized them. My spider-sense was sharper, my control smoother. When I leapt experimentally in the backyard, I cleared the fence without effort. My body adjusted instantly, landing without a stumble.
I wasn't just Peter's older brother anymore. I was something more.
For days, I wrestled with the choice. I could take the mantle myself. Be Spider-Man before Peter ever figured it out. I could outshine him, surpass him, maybe even prevent the suffering I knew was coming.
But then I looked at him—my awkward, bright little brother who still struggled to talk to girls, who still sketched designs in his notebook late at night, dreaming of a better world.
This was his story. His destiny.
I wouldn't steal it.
Instead, I made a promise to myself. I would live quietly, normally, blending in like I always had. I would let Peter grow into Spider-Man. But when the shadows grew too deep, when the danger was too great, I would step out—not as his rival, but as his shield.
The world didn't need two Spider-Men in the light.
It needed one Spider-Man in the spotlight.
And one shadow watching over him.
Foreshadow
I didn't know then how soon I'd need to break my quiet vow.
Uncle Ben still tucked us into bed some nights, always smiling, always patient. He had no idea how close death had brushed against him in the original timeline I remembered.
And when the night came—the night of the thief, the night of the fateful gunshot—I knew I couldn't just stand by.
Not this time.
Because I wasn't just Ethan Parker, average older brother.
I was the Other Parker.
And Uncle Ben wasn't going to die on my watch.