New York
August 22, 08:50 EDT
East Harlem in Upper Manhattan, also known as Spanish Harlem, is home to one of the largest Hispanic communities in New York City. It is predominantly made up of Puerto Ricans but also has a large population of Dominicans, Cubans, and Mexicans. It's also home to the boxing gym owned by former heavyweight champion Ted Grant. The gym was located in a part of the neighborhood that most people might avoid during the day, but would definitely not be at night.
Peter had come across it by complete happenstance when he was searching for an old camera he had learned he might be able to find at a store in East Harlem. Naturally, he didn't tell his parents where he was going because they wouldn't have let him, and that is also why they still think the gym is located in a different, nicer part of East Harlem.
He arrived on the quiet street where the gym was located. All the other businesses either had their shutters down since they weren't open yet or were permanently closed. The only one that was open was the gym, which never had the shutters down because it didn't have any.
Peter had previously asked Grant why he didn't have any shutters when the neighborhood was so bad, and he said his fists were all the security he needed. That answer was an almost perfect encapsulation of who he was as a person: a tough, rough-around-the-edges man with a penchant for crude jokes and an unshakeable confidence in his skills.
But beneath that tough exterior was a man who cared. He would train kids from the neighborhood and teach them so they could stay out of trouble. If they were in trouble, he'd help them out. If they couldn't pay, they didn't have to; Grant would set them up with all the equipment they'd need. That was the kind of man he was.
Just as Peter was about to walk in, Grant walked out with a lit cigarette on his lips, like usual.
"You're late." he said, his voice gruff from age and smoking as he looked Peter up and down.
He had blue eyes and black hair that was graying, stood at 6'5" (195 cm), and weighed around 250 lbs (113 kg). For an old man nearing 90, Grant didn't look a day over 50 and was in excellent shape for someone young, much less an old man like him. Like every other time Peter had trained with him, he wore a black sweatsuit and black beanie.
Peter had assumed Ted Grant was a mentioned character from the comics for many of the same reasons as he thought Dragon may have been. Mostly, though, it was the fact that Grant was nearing 90 years of age, was in crazy good shape, and fought as if he were a much, much younger man.
"I'm ten minutes early." said Peter.
"You skipped out last week. Means you should've been here at 6 to make up for it." he said, taking a drag.
"I don't know if skipped out is the right term for it. I was sick. I even called to tell you I wasn't going to be able to make it." said Peter, using the simple but believable excuse he had come up with to explain why he would be missing Grant's class the week before.
"With what?"
"Stomach bug. Pretty nasty one too."
"Tch. Kids today. You're too soft. Back in my day, if you had a prior commitment, you'd go even if you were on your deathbed." he said, shaking his head. "Nowadays, you won't even get out of bed if you have the sniffles."
"Come on, cut me a little slack. It's the first time I've ever even missed a session." said Peter. "Last year, I came even when I was dying with the flu."
"Mm. Fair enough." he said, raising his eyebrows in agreement. "Must've been coming out of both ends for you to stay home."
"Like a geyser." said Peter, both of them chuckling.
"Alright, come on." said Grant, tossing the cigarette butt on the ground before going back inside.
As they walked through the door, straight ahead of them was a flight of stairs that went up to the second floor, where the gym was. The first floor was Grant's house and was accessible through a locked door directly to the right of the entrance.
"I've been meaning to ask, is Yolanda okay? I haven't seen her in a while." said Peter as they headed up the stairs.
"I didn't tell you?" asked Grant, lighting another cigarette.
"Didn't tell me what?"
"She moved."
"Moved? To where? And when?" asked Peter, surprised.
While they weren't friends in the same way he and Ronnie were, he thought they were good enough acquaintances that she would've mentioned something major like moving the last time he had seen her.
"A month ago, give or take. Moved to Los Angeles." explained Grant. "Her old man got a good job offer over there, so they moved."
"Oh. That's too bad." said Peter.
"What? Don't tell me you have a crush on my goddaughter?" asked Grant, looking over his shoulder with a teasing smile.
"I don't have a crush on her. She was just the only person my age who I could talk to about martial arts." he said.
"Too bad. She had a crush on you." said Grant as he opened the door to the second floor, and they both walked in.
"She did?" he asked, surprised. "I never knew."
"I knew you didn't know. You're as dense as a fucking brick! Hahaha!" said Grant, busting out laughing.
"That's a little harsh." he said, a little embarrassed.
"Sorry to be the one to break it to you, kid, but you are. She thought you didn't like her like that, and I told her you just didn't have a clue in the world. We wagered ten dollars to see who was right, which reminds me, I need to call her so she can send me my money." said Grant, going to his office. "Stretch while I make this call."
Still surprised at the revelation, he dropped his bag by the bench and started doing his stretches, taking in the gym to see if anything had changed since he was last there.
The gym had not changed and was still very much a typical boxing gym. There was a ring in the middle for sparring, all types of punching bags were along a mirrored wall, with more towards the back, a few speed bags, an area for weights and jump rope, a bench for resting, and a small office for Grant. The place looked and was very old school because that's how Grant liked it; he disliked technology.
As he did his stretches, which he didn't need to do but was doing so as not to make Grant suspicious, he thought about what Grant had told him.
'So, Yolanda liked me.' he thought, smiling a little at that notion. 'Weird.'
In his past life, he had left school before he got to the age when kids developed real crushes, and had gotten too sick to even have a crush on a real person, so it was an odd experience to know a girl romantically liked him. He had no experience with romance, and until recently had little real interest.
'Guess this is a consequence of the whole me not living in the moment thing Mom and Dad talked to me about on my birthday. I was so focused on wanting to be a vigilante no matter what, that I didn't even notice a girl had a crush on me.' he thought. 'It's too bad I didn't notice sooner if I'm being honest. Yolanda definitely ticks off all the boxes: smart, funny, strong, self-reliant, and pretty. She also had reddish hair.'
With the knowledge that Yolanda had a crush on him, he began thinking back on all the times they had interacted and tried to pinpoint moments that might have been flirting that he had missed. On one day alone, he counted at least five instances.
'Oh, Parker, looks like you are stupid. Here I was, telling Ronnie with all the confidence in the world that there were no girls from my past who liked me. I can't believe I had to be practically smacked upside the head to realize Yolanda liked me. At this point, I should reassess everything with everyone.'
Unlike the time with Ronnie, where he casually recalled his memories of talking to and/or hanging out with girls, this time, he was going to do a thorough analysis. He wanted to go over his memories with a fine-tooth comb, using instances with Yolanda as an example to be one hundred percent certain.
Unfortunately, due to his mentality in those days, he didn't remember much of his interactions with girls. But he did manage to recall a few instances from elementary and middle school of girls who had a crush on him. Before he could delve into more recent memories, Grant snapped him out of his thoughts.
"You look like a man full of regret." said Grant, smiling as he came out of his office.
"More like a man who just realized how blind and stupid he was." admitted Peter.
"Haha, yeah, it was funny. She might as well have been flirting with a brick wall." he said, sitting down on the edge of the ring. "You're not gay, are you? Is that why you didn't notice her flirting? Not that there's anything wrong with that. An old friend of mine was gay."
"I'm not gay." said Peter, amused. "To put it simply, my parents recently woke me up. Before two weeks ago, I used to focus on the future so much so that I wasn't living in the present. I screwed up so bad that I even forgot to make friends. And missed out on a few girls flirting with me, apparently. Anyway, it was a wake-up call. Or at least partially. Thanks to you, I'm fully awake now. Hopefully."
"Well, good luck to you, kid." said Grant, standing up. "If there's one thing I can't help you with, it's love advice."
"Really? No luck on that front?" asked Peter, surprised that a good-looking and successful guy like Grant never had any luck with love.
"Nah, not in the cards for people like me." he said, getting a far-off look before snapping out of it. "But at least I got a kid to carry on my blood."
"You have a kid?" asked Peter, really surprised. "Since when?"
"Since he came out of my balls 30 years ago." said Grant.
"Never heard you mention him."
"Yeah, well. Life's not always sunshine and rainbows." he said, looking a little sad before it went away. "Now, are we going to keep talking about each other's feelings like a bunch of namby-pambies or are we going to box?! Put your gear on and get in the fucking ring!"
Peter didn't have to be an expert in the human condition to know that there was a long and assuredly complicated history between Grant and his son. He didn't want to overstep his bounds or stick his nose where it didn't belong, so he didn't say anything else and did as he was told.
He took off his hoodie, wrapped his hands, put in his mouth guard, and put on his gloves before getting in the ring. A spar with Grant was more about technique and getting things right rather than about winning, which is why headgear wasn't required. There were some times when he was punched, but Grant didn't use his full strength, or he would've been seriously injured long ago; naturally, that was before his change. That said, he did have to use a helmet when sparring with other people his age and when having a more traditional sparring session with Grant.
As he got into the ring, Grant looked him up and down with his eyes like he was inspecting him, just like Dragon had.
'Stick to the plan.'
"All that weight I lost from being sick really made my physique pop, don't you think?" he said, trying to cut off any questions before they were asked.
"Yeah. It did." said Grant as he finished strapping on the boxing mitts. "Start with the basics."
He nodded, got into a stance, and stepped closer to Grant before doing a basic one-two combo, mindful to use the appropriate amount of strength. As the hits landed on the mitts, he looked at Grant, trying to gauge a reaction out of him.
"Good. Next." he said, just as serious as he always was during training.
As asked, he did the next combination, a one-one-two, again while gauging his reaction.
"What the fuck are you staring into my eyes for?! You're supposed to be looking at my entire body, not zeroing in on one spot! Did that stomach bug cause you to shit out everything I've taught you or what?! Get your fucking head in the game!" yelled Grant. "Come on! Next one!"
Internally, he smiled, but externally, he focused up. He stopped gauging Grant's reaction and did the thirteen other basic combos one after the other.
"Better. Looks like you didn't shit everything out." said Grant as he took the mitts off.
"Little rusty, I guess." he said, breathing a little hard to sell the act as he took off his gloves and mouth guard.
"More like you were too busy trying to see if I would notice." said Grant.
"Notice what?" he said, trying to keep calm.
"Kid, I've been fighting since I was four years old, my boxing career lasted longer than you've been alive." said Grant, getting out of the ring and sitting on the edge before lighting a cigarette and taking a puff. "I can tell when someone's pulling their punches."
"Maybe I didn't want to hurt your old man bones." said Peter.
"Mm." he said, chuckling. "Dragon came to see me last week."
'Uh-oh.'
"He said you were different, changed. Like a whole new man." said Grant, looking right into Peter's eyes. "He was worried you were using Venom and asked me to make my own assessment. When you called in sick, I thought Dragon might've been right, you were using Venom. Then he called me on Wednesday, said he was sure you weren't on Venom, but something had definitely happened to you."
'Guess I'm not winning any awards for my acting anytime soon.'
"T-that's crazy. Nothing happened to me." he said, waving it off while trying to keep calm. "You know what, it's probably puberty. Yeah, now that I think about it, I-I've hit puberty."
"Peter, relax." said Grant, picking up a stray weight before carrying it over to the weight area. "You think you're the first person to develop superpowers?"
"Super-what?! Me?! No. I'm just regular old Peter Parker." he said, denying it.
"Nothing regular about you, kid. And that's okay." said Grant.
With Grant's back turned to him, Peter closed his eyes and breathed deeply to calm himself.
'Okay, it's my second week as Spider-Man, and my oh-so-secret identity has already been seen through. But it's purely speculative. There's little to no evidence, so it's not ideal, but it could be wo-'
His thoughts were interrupted by his spider-senses tingling with the same intensity as when he was fighting the Venomed mobster in the crypt. Opening his eyes, he could see that Grant had thrown the weight at him, and judging by the intensity of the tingle, it wasn't a weak throw.
'God damn it.' he thought, closing his eyes in resignation.
He caught the weight and sighed.
"You can't say anything to anyone. Especially not my parents. Please." he said as he put the weight down.
"Hahaha!" Grant burst out laughing, which surprised Peter. "Come on, kid, you'd think I was blackmailing you from the way you're sighing. Relax, you're not the only one with secrets."
Grant walked into his office and walked back out with a black mask in his hands that he tossed over to Peter. He was confused, but he caught it, and when he looked at it, his jaw nearly dropped.
"You're Wildcat." he said, baffled, as he looked down at the black cowl in his hands.
Peter had assumed Grant might have been a mentioned character, but thought he was at most a background character who trains a superhero and/or vigilante. He would never have guessed Grant was Wildcat, whom he only knew about because the Justice Society of America had a whole chapter dedicated to them in his 7th-grade US History textbook.
"Retired, but yes, I am." said Grant, getting back into the ring and taking his mask back. "So, now that you know my secret, why don't you tell me yours?"
He stood there in silence, debating whether or not to say something, whether or not to lie. All kinds of thoughts raced through his mind, but he had decided.
"I'm Spider-Man." Peter said with conviction as he looked up at Grant.
"Spider-Man? That's you swinging around out there?" said Grant, surprised.
"Wait, you didn't know?! I thought you knew! You said you knew!" he said, flabbergasted.
"I never said that. I just thought you got superpowers all of a sudden, not that you were Spider-Man."
"But you showed me your mask?!"
"Yeah, because that's my secret."
" ... so I just revealed my secret identity to you for no reason?" asked Peter, head in his hands.
"Pretty much! Hahahaha!" said Grant, nearly tearing up from laughing so hard.
"Oh my god. I'm an idiot." he said, embarrassed at making such a massive mistake.
"Relax, kid." said Grant, patting him on the back. "Your secret doesn't even rank in the top 100 most important secrets that I have! You're a fucking nobody! Hahaha!"
"Weirdly, that makes me feel better." he said, relaxing a little.
"Good. Well, now that it's out in the open, it's nice to meet you, Spider-Man." said Grant, hand outstretched for a shake.
"It's nice to meet you, Wildcat." said Peter, shaking his hand with a small smile.
"You've been doing good work out there, kid. I'm proud of you." said Grant, patting him on the shoulder.
"Thanks."
"Truth be told, I was expecting you to become a vigilante any day now."
"What? What do you mean?" asked Peter, confused.
"I clocked you the day you walked into my gym. You had a look in your eye that I've seen a few times over the years." explained Grant, reminiscing for a few seconds. "Anyway, I knew it was only a matter of time until you were out in the streets fighting crime. I just didn't expect you to be slinging webs and crawling on walls."
"Wow. You've known since back then?"
"It's why I sent you over to that carrot top. I wanted you to be as prepared as you could be." explained Grant.
"I thought you sent me because I was talented." said Peter.
"Don't get me wrong, if you were talentless, I wouldn't have sent you. I'd have beaten you up until you got that dumbass idea of wanting to be a vigilante out of your head. Hahaha!"
"How thoughtful." he said, shaking his head in amusement. "So, does Dragon know too?"
"Maybe. He knows something changed about you, but whether he knows you're Spider-Man, I couldn't tell you." said Grant, as he took a puff. "Hell, if you hadn't told me, I don't think I would have made the connection any time soon."
"Glass half-full then." he said, rubbing his temple.
"Something like that." said Grant, shrugging his shoulders. "So, how'd you get your powers? You just woke up one day and decided to see if you could stick to walls?"
"Pretty much actually." said Peter.
He explained what happened to him, but left out the part about his spider-sense. It's not that he didn't trust Grant, but he thought it would be better to keep that ability of his a secret for as long as he could.
"Bit by a spider, huh? Never heard that one before. Have heard weirder though, that's for sure." said Grant.
"Do you have any powers?" asked Peter, hoping to find out if he looked so young because of superpowers or if he was just genetically blessed. "I remember reading about your time as Wildcat with the JSA, but I don't remember any mention of any powers."
"Some days it's a superpower, other days it's a curse. Depends on my mood." he said. "Take a guess."
'Let's see. He's called Wildcat, so maybe it's something associated with cats. He's old, but he looks young, so definitely some slow aging. He said sometimes it's a curse. Hmm ... ' thought Peter, trying to come up with a guess based on what he knew before coming up with a possibility that seemed in line with comic logic. "Do you have nine lives?"
"Surprised you got it." said Grant, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Yeah, that's the main part of it. Nine lives like a fucking cat. What that has to do with aging slowly and being able to fight like I'm at my prime even after all these years is beyond me, but hey, I'm not complaining. About that part anyway."
"Nine lives ... how many do you have left?" asked Peter, curious.
"Nine."
"Sorry, you probably want to keep it a secret, huh?" said Peter.
"Wasn't lying. I have nine. If they get used up, they come back eventually."
"So as long as you don't die nine times consecutively, you're practically immortal. Wow."
"From being killed, sure. I'll probably make it to two hundred before I hit the dirt." he said, blowing out smoke. "Sure as shit hope it doesn't take that long though."
Peter understood why Grant said his powers were a curse at times. In theory, Grant's powers sounded amazing, but in practice, it meant he would outlive practically all his friends and family. His comment earlier about love not being in the cards for him made sense in the context of his powers. Nearly anyone he fell in love with would die before him.
'He's almost like Wolverine in that respect. Though he's luckier since he hasn't had his memories fiddled with a million times, or been experimented on by the government, or lost loves of his life over and over again, or ... damn, poor Wolverine.' thought Peter.
"Alright, enough pouring our hearts out like a bunch of broads at a tea party. You have to decide what you want to do from now on." said Grant.
"What do you mean?"
"As far as technique goes, you've learned pretty much everything I can teach you. Only way to improve from now on is experience. I was going to ask if you wanted to start fighting in the amateur league, but now that you're superhuman, there's no point; you'll wipe the floor with those kids. But if you want to keep coming, I'll keep taking your money." explained Grant.
"There has to be more you can teach me. You have to know other styles besides boxing." said Peter.
"Don't tell him I said it, but Dragon's better than me at anything I could teach you. If it's boxing, I wipe the floor with that kid, but anything else, he has me beat. And you won't get much experience if we spar. You'd have to fight someone on par with you." said Grant. "That said, I think you should stop going to Dragon's too."
"You do? Why?" Peter asked, confused.
"Two reasons." he said, putting up two fingers. "Reason one, you're superhuman, and you fight normal people; they wouldn't stand a chance against you even if you just stood there, so learning more martial arts is somewhat pointless. Reason two, I've seen you fight as Spider-Man, and whether you know it or not, you've been developing your own style of fighting. It's tricky, it's fast, and it looks like a combination of a bunch of things. My advice: stop going to Dragon and continue developing that style."
"What if I start fighting other super-powered people? Wouldn't it be better to know a variety of martial arts to fight them?" he asked.
"In theory, but would you rather use a style you developed and honed every day that could also be used with superpowered beings by adjusting your strength, or a dozen fighting styles that you know in theory but not in practice? Again, it comes down to the fact that you're superhuman. Even if you pull your punches and fight on par with Dragon, you wouldn't be getting any experience because you're fighting with a handicap." explained Grant.
"That's ... a good point." said Peter. "I never thought about it like that."
"Yeah, well, you were probably thinking you wanted everything to stay the same." said Grant. "But it can't. The only constant in life is change. You either accept it and adapt or reject it and let it break you."
"Sometimes I forget you're pretty wise and insightful. Probably because you're always smoking and look and talk like a grumpy old man." joked Peter.
"Age will do that to you, kid." he said, chuckling before a moment of silence fell.
"So, no more boxing." said Peter, a look of reluctance on his face. "Okay, what if instead, you teach me how to be a vigilante? A hero?"
"Whether you're a vigilante or a hero depends on the powers that be because, at the end of the day, they're both just titles. One day you can be their hero, and the next you can be their villain. It all depends on what will let them get elected. What really matters is what's in here." he said, pointing at Peter's heart. "What you do and why you do it is all that matters, and what decides if you're a hero. There's nothing I can teach you about that. You have to figure it out yourself. And I think you're doing a good job so far."
Peter was speechless. He had read all sorts of speeches in comics from heroes about what it means to be a hero. He had even received the arguably most famous quote himself. But something about Grant's speech really stuck with him. Maybe it was because it was something said just for him, and no one else.
"Wow." said Peter. "That was ... wow."
"Mm." said Grant. "So what's it going to be?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking, contemplating.
"You really think all that's left is for me to gain experience?" asked Peter.
"I do." nodded Grant.
Again, he fell silent, contemplating, but he did not contemplate for long.
"Okay, then. I guess, this is it." said Peter, hand outstretched for a handshake.
"What's with the theatrics, kid? You'd think one of us was dying or something." said Grant, slapping the hand away and getting out of the ring.
"Come on. That was a poignant moment." said Peter, also getting out of the ring. "It's the student saying goodbye to his master before he goes off into the great big unknown. You couldn't let me have it?"
~
After putting his stuff away, Peter took one last look at the gym.
"Are you crying?" said Grant, coming out of his office.
"No. I'm just going to miss coming here every Saturday." said Peter.
"Yeah, well. Come back whenever you'd like. I'll be here. You can even help me teach some of the kids." said Grant before handing over something to Peter. "Here. I found this."
Taking it, Peter looked and saw that it was a picture taken the year before during a tournament between gyms. It was him smiling as he held the first-place trophy for the boy's division, Yolanda smiling as she held the first-place trophy for the girl's division, and Grant standing in between them, looking proud. He also noticed that Yolanda was looking at him.
'Really blind, Parker.'
"Now I really might cry." said Peter, smiling as he carefully put away the picture.
"Alright, get out of here. I got to clean up before the other runts come running." said Grant, scratching his chin.
Peter grabbed him and hugged him. He felt Grant freeze up for a second, but he returned it, patting him on the back.
"Thanks for everything, old man." said Peter, stepping back.
"Don't die out there, kid. And don't let the life consume you. Because it will if you let it." said Grant. "And one final bit of advice from an old-timer. Some days, you'll hear people singing your praises and other days, you'll hear people calling for your arrest or worse. There'll be days when you don't get a single thank you from anyone, and there'll be days when you wonder if it's all worth it. And it fucking sucks. But if you've made a positive impact on even one person, then you're doing something right, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially not English pansies like that Gordon whatshisname."
"I appreciate the advice. I won't forget it." said Peter, smiling.
As he was about to walk down the stairs, he remembered how he had been watched the day before. He didn't think it was Grant, but he decided to ask, just in case.
"I know you didn't know I was Spider-Man until I told you, but is there any chance you were watching me yesterday night?"
"Why the hell would I spend my Friday night watching you prance around in your ballerina costume? I've got better things to do with my time."
"A simple no would've worked just fine. See you around, grandpa." he said, leaving with a smile on his face as he heard Grant yelling about being called a grandpa.
~~
AN
If only he hadn't been interrupted during his enlightened deep dive into his memories to see all the girls who like him.
So Ted Grant is the first person to know he is Spider-Man, and it was due to Peter's inexperience/mistake that revealed it. He'll be more careful from now on.
Dragon does not know he is Spider-Man, nor does Bronze Tiger. They both just think Peter awakened some kind of meta-human abilities that increased his strength. Dragon will not know more than that for the foreseeable future, and Bronze Tiger has already forgotten Peter's name.
All is well in Spider-Ville. For now.