Peter's Dilemma
For days, Peter Parker wrestled with it. Brendon King wasn't just another mentor figure; he was someone who had built an empire out of nothing and somehow carried himself like he knew more than he should. Nirvana had changed the city, touched the world—but it was Brendon himself that gnawed at Peter's mind.
MJ had noticed too. "You've been jumpy, Peter. Late-night runs, extra excuses. Spill."
Peter brushed her off. But in his heart, he knew: if he was going to be a real part of Nirvana, if he was going to protect Aunt May and his friends, he had to tell Brendon.
So he texted a single line.
Peter: Can we talk? In private.
Brendon's reply came seconds later.
Brendon: I was waiting for you to ask.
The Rooftop
They met on Nirvana's rooftop, the skyline glowing against the night. Peter's mask was in his hands, sweaty palms gripping it tight.
"I… I'm different," Peter started, stumbling. "I got bit. By a spider. It gave me powers—strength, reflexes, all that. And I've been trying to use it for good but… I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep everyone safe. Aunt May. MJ. Ned. They're my world."
He looked Brendon dead in the eye, voice trembling but steady with intent. "I need your help to protect them."
Brendon didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He just leaned against the railing like Peter had asked him what brand of soda he liked.
"Alright," Brendon said simply. "I'll protect them."
Peter blinked. "That's it? No questions? No disbelief?"
Brendon smirked. "Peter, do you think I'd have invited you into Nirvana without knowing you carried something different? The only question is—are you ready to step into the wider world? Because this—" he gestured at the city, the horizon beyond, "—this is only the beginning."
Brendon's Secret
Peter hesitated. "Wider world? You mean… more people like us?"
"People," Brendon said slowly, "and things. Forces that don't belong to our sidewalks and skylines. Some we can ally with. Some we'll have to fight."
He looked at Peter, weighing him. "You trust me, Peter?"
"I do."
"Then you should see this."
Brendon raised his wrist. "Omnitrix—voice command. Diamondhead."
In a shimmer of green light, his body crystallized into jagged diamond armor. The rooftop gleamed with reflections of the city. Peter stumbled back, jaw dropping.
Before he could speak, Brendon's voice rumbled through Diamondhead's crystalline form.
"Omnitrix—voice command. Fourarms."
Another flash, and suddenly Brendon towered over Peter, four red-skinned arms flexing with sheer power, the rooftop trembling under his weight.
Peter's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't move, couldn't even think. It wasn't fear—it was awe.
The form shimmered away, leaving Brendon standing there in his human skin again, as if nothing had happened.
Peter swallowed. "That's… incredible."
Brendon only gave a small smile, but inside, his thoughts guarded themselves. The Omnitrix isn't just a power—it's a responsibility I can't explain yet. Not to him. Not to anyone.
The Observer
They stood in silence, a fragile bond forming in the cool night air. Peter finally exhaled. "Thanks, Brendon. I… I don't feel so alone anymore."
Brendon placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not. Not now. Not ever."
Neither of them mentioned the shadow crouched at the edge of the roof, just out of sight.
MJ had followed Peter, as she often did when his excuses stacked too high. She had expected a stupid boyhood confession, maybe even a fight.
Instead, she had witnessed Peter reveal his greatest secret. And Brendon reveal something even greater.
Her heart raced. She wanted to march forward, demand answers—but she froze. Brendon's gaze flicked toward the shadows where she hid. His eyes softened, just for a second, as though to say: I know you're there. And it's okay.
MJ pressed a hand over her mouth to keep silent. She'd never look at either boy the same way again.