[Third Person Pov]
Peter stood alone at the very center of the Danger Room, the vast metallic space stretching endlessly around him. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms overhead, and twisted his torso from side to side like an athlete warming up before a big match. A grin tugged at his lips as he cracked his neck once, then twice.
"Alright," he muttered before raising his voice, "bring it on, baby~ and let everyone bear witness to the one, the only—the Amazing Spider-Man!"
High above him, near the reinforced ceiling, a wide viewing deck overlooked the entire chamber. Thick panes of specialized glass separated the observers from whatever chaos the Danger Room was about to unleash. From there, the X-Men and their guests could both monitor the test and actively control the environment below.
Kitty Pryde leaned forward slightly, arms crossed, watching Peter with a wary smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Isn't he taking this a little too lightly?" she said, her tone uneasy. "Even if he's Spider-Man, the Danger Room is no joke…"
She paused, her expression briefly darkening as old memories surfaced. "If you underestimate it," she added quietly, "it has a way of leaving scars. Mental ones."
Harry shook his head with a small chuckle. "That's honestly just how he is," he replied. "That's how he faces everything—every opponent, every disaster." He glanced toward the others. "We dealt with multiversal-level threats not too long ago, and he didn't change his attitude even once."
"Huh?!"
Nearly every member of the X-Men turned sharply toward Nightwing, disbelief written plainly across their faces.
"Multiversal danger?!" Hank exclaimed, stepping away from the control console entirely. His eyes practically lit up behind his glasses. "Are you telling me the Multiverse is a confirmed reality and not merely a theoretical construct?"
Before anyone could elaborate, Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up toward the deck. "Hey! When do we start? I've got a reputation to maintain here—I need to look cool!"
"We'll share the full story later," Aria said calmly, a note of amusement coloring her voice. "At the moment, Father is becoming rather impatient."
"…."
"FATHER?!"
The entire viewing deck erupted.
They were somehow even more shocked than they had been moments ago.
"SPIDER-MAN'S YOUR DAD?!" several voices shouted at once.
Charles blinked, clearly taken aback. "Is he… your biological father?" he asked, still struggling to process the idea. The thought of Spider-Man as a parent had never once crossed his mind.
"Yes," Aria replied without hesitation. Her tone was firm, confident. Considering she had created her body using Peter's DNA as a foundation, it wasn't inaccurate in the slightest to call him her biological father.
"I refuse to believe that guy is, like, a forty-something-year-old man," Kitty said flatly, staring down at Peter as if sheer disbelief might make the statement untrue.
"I must admit," Charles added, rubbing his chin, "I am genuinely stunned."
"And who is the mother?" Storm asked, her gaze shifting thoughtfully between the three spider-themed women present, clearly searching for any resemblance.
"I mean, it's obviously Scarlet-Spider, right?" Jean chimed in, tilting her head. "They both have psychic abilities." A few of the others nodded in agreement—it made sense, at least on the surface.
Both Aria and MJ shook their heads in unison.
Then, as if rehearsed, every member of the Spider-Family raised an arm and pointed directly at Gwen.
Gwen puffed out her chest proudly, striking a victorious pose as though she had personally carried Aria for nine months—despite the fact that her actual contribution had been limited to genetic material combined with Peter's, forming Aria's unique DNA.
"Well, I'll be damned," Rogue muttered, glancing back and forth between Gwen and Aria. With Gwen's full-body suit concealing her features, no obvious similarities could be seen.
Suddenly—whpp!
A sharp sound echoed through the chamber, followed immediately by something hitting against glass.
Everyone turned just in time to see thick strands of webbing plastered across the viewing window. A second later, Peter yanked himself upward with startling force, sticking effortlessly to the glass. He crawled across it upside down before knocking loudly with his knuckles.
"Hello?! Chat, am I muted?" he called out. "When can I begin the exercise? Is the first level an endurance test for patience? Because if so, mine is being seriously tested!"
Professor Xavier chuckled warmly. "Our apologies, Spider-Man," he said. "We became a bit… sidetracked. That was not our intention."
"It felt like I got left on read," Peter complained dramatically. "Which hurts more when it happens in person, by the way."
With that, he kicked off the window, flipping gracefully through the air before landing perfectly back in the center of the Danger Room.
"Hank, if you would," Charles said, nodding toward the blue-furred scientist at the controls.
"We'll begin with Level One," Hank announced as his fingers danced across the console. "From there, the difficulty will steadily increase."
"How many levels are there?" Felicia asked, studying the panels with interest.
"There are five primary levels," Hank replied calmly. "Each one contains unique variables, abnormalities, and escalating challenges that the subject must overcome."
Peter's spider-sense flared to life in an instant.
Without even looking down, he calmly twisted his body to the side just as a massive sawblade burst upward from the floor where he had been standing moments before. Sparks flew as the spinning metal shrieked through empty space, missing him by inches.
Peter didn't so much as flinch.
He casually slipped both hands into his pockets and began moving forward at an easy, unhurried pace, as if he were taking a leisurely stroll through a park rather than navigating a lethal training chamber. Traps sprang from the floor, ceiling, and walls with vicious speed, yet Peter merely bopped, weaved, and stepped around them with effortless precision, his body flowing naturally from one movement to the next.
Without warning, thick steel walls erupted up on either side of him, attempting to crush him between them. Peter planted a foot against one wall, skipped along its surface, and launched himself backward into a smooth, controlled backflip. He landed in a relaxed crouch just as the walls slammed together in front of him with a thunderous, rattling bang.
A barrage of spinning blades shot toward him from every direction.
Peter leapt into a corkscrew spin, twisting through the air as blades whizzed past his head and limbs. One came too close—so he simply kicked it mid-spin, altering its trajectory and sending it crashing into several others in a violent chain reaction.
From the walls, rows of razor-sharp spikes extended outward and fired toward him like bullets, each one positioned for a lethal strike.
Peter's grin widened.
An invisible aura of repulsive force bloomed around him as he subtly manipulated attraction and repulsion through the Van der Waals force. The spikes and blades never even reached him—each one ricocheted away the instant it came close, scattering harmlessly across the chamber.
"Wha—how is he even doing that?" Kurt asked, his tail flicking in disbelief as his eyes followed Peter's movements.
"His agility is something else entirely," Rogue muttered, watching the fluidity of Spider-Man's dodges and spins.
"It's not just agility," Bobby added thoughtfully. "It's his flexibility… his control… his acrobatics." He shook his head slowly. "I don't think I've ever seen someone move with that much—grace."
"If you're this impressed just watching him move," Felicia said with a knowing, almost wary grin, "I'm curious how you'll all react when he actually starts taking things seriously."
That caught Charles's attention immediately.
"Hank," he said, eyes sharp with intrigue, "increase the danger level to two."
Hank's fingers flew across the control panel as the Danger Room responded. The hum of machinery deepened, the atmosphere growing heavier.
The traps began activating faster—far faster—and their lethality increased dramatically.
Drones poured into the chamber, buzzing through the air as they unleashed volleys of high-caliber gunfire and launched rockets in rapid succession. Flamethrowers jutted from the walls, spewing roaring infernos that flooded entire sections of the room with searing heat.
Peter didn't break rhythm.
He leaned forward and began skating across the floor, his feet gliding effortlessly as he manipulated attraction and repulsion beneath him. With no friction to slow him down, he moved like a professional figure skater, carving smooth arcs through chaos while bullets and flames tore through the space he had occupied moments earlier.
He spun cleanly between two walls of fire, slipping through a narrow opening like a needle threading fabric.
Landing on one knee, Peter chuckled as he finally pulled his hands from his pockets. "Looks like level two's worthy of me using these~" he said lightly.
Rockets streaked toward him in response.
Peter took a firm stance and punched the air once.
A massive wave of repulsive force detonated outward, colliding with the rockets and causing them to explode simultaneously in a deafening cascade of fire and smoke.
He surged forward toward the oncoming drones as they descended on him, emptying nearly their entire arsenal in a desperate attempt to bring him down.
To Peter, the world slowed.
He punched straight through the first drone, obliterating it in a single strike. He tore through another with his bare hands, ripping metal apart as though it were paper. Using their falling remains as stepping stones, he bounded upward, launching himself high into the air.
Flipping upside down, he crossed his arms mid-flight, calm and composed.
At the apex of his jump, Peter extended both hands and thrust them outward repeatedly, unleashing a storm of glowing azure webs from his wrists. He spun rapidly, firing in all directions like a living turret, his body rotating like a disco ball of crackling blue light.
The webs struck true.
Electric energy surged through them, freezing every drone mid-air as they spasmed violently and malfunctioned, suspended helplessly above him.
Peter landed lightly on his feet, forming a precise mystic hand sign—each finger touching perfectly—as he spoke a single word.
"Latom."
The webbing flared brilliantly, the blue glow intensifying until it was almost blinding.
Then everything exploded.
A chain of brilliant azure detonations tore through the air above him, shockwaves rattling the chamber as shredded metal rained down in smoking fragments. The echoes of destruction lingered long after the final blast faded.
Peter lifted his head toward the viewing deck, a wide grin on his face. "Please tell me there's more," he called out cheerfully. "I'm really starting to enjoy myself."
"…What a monster," Angel whispered, a faint chuckle slipping out despite himself.
Around him, the rest of the X-Men nodded slowly, still trying to process what they had just witnessed.
Meanwhile, every member of the Spider-Family shared similar thoughts in their own way.
'That's all it took to impress them?'
'That's enough for him to be called a monster?'
It seemed that, in the end, the definition of a monster differed greatly depending on who was watching.
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