[LEO POV]
"God, I hate the metro," I sighed.
Public transportation was the worst. But what choice did I have? I was fifteen—no license yet. I did have a learner's permit, though I do plan on getting my license the second I turned sixteen.
As you might guess, Midtown High was in Midtown. Unfortunately, I lived near the outskirts of Astoria, which meant crossing half of New York City just to get to school. Total pain in the ass, at least to me.
As I walked through the halls, I couldn't help but wonder:
"What kind of school is this?"
Midtown was weird. There were basically two ways to get in: be rich, or be a genius and score a scholarship.
Flash Thompson? Dumb as bricks, but he had an athletic scholarship and a rich dad. Peter Parker? Poor, lived with his aunt, but had an academic scholarship because he was a straight-up genius.
"I think Ned has a scholarship for computer science," I muttered to myself, "and MJ got one for visual arts or something."
Eventually, I reached my first class of the day. A few people glanced my way but quickly went back to their own conversations.
Flash was already there in the far-left corner, playing the stereotypical jock bully role: blond hair, quarterback build, blue eyes, smug face. A small crowd of jocks surrounded him, like always.
Across from them sat Harry Osborn—the cliché rich kid. Designer sweater vest, gelled-up black hair, and a brooding vibe. Honestly, he looked kind of like James Franco if James Franco had a younger, half-Korean brother. I didn't talk to him much. Nobody really did. He had major loner energy and trust issues or something.
"Hey Leo, what are you doing over there? Get over here," I heard someone call out.
It was Ned Leeds—Peter Parker's best friend. He looked almost exactly like his MCU version, just maybe ten pounds lighter.
Ned was sitting near the middle right of the classroom, flanked by the rest of our weird little group: Peter Parker and me.
Our friendship was kind of… odd. We were friends, but not best friends. I talked to them daily, played video games with them sometimes—we hung out, sure—but it wasn't like a deep ride-or-die friendship.
MJ sat nearby too. Michelle Jones. She kind of looked like Zendaya, but with a darker, reddish-brown hair color instead of straight-up brown.
MJ was hard to describe. Kind of a loner like Harry, but in a completely different way. She wasn't officially part of our group, but she hung out near us, listened in on our conversations, and occasionally chimed in.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "It's way too early for this."
MJ glanced my way. "You look terrible."
I stared back blankly. "...Rude."
I dropped into the seat beside Ned and Peter, who were already mid-conversation—probably geeking out over some show or comic.
We met back in our final year of middle school on the Academic Decathlon Team. Peter did physics. Ned handled tech. I was the math guy.
Yep. I'm a math nerd. Multiplication wizard, fast learner, can memorize formulas in my sleep. But even with that, I was still the dumbest of the group. Peter and Ned were geniuses. I was just… smart.
"Anything new?" I asked casually.
"Not really," MJ answered before either of them could.
"Wait—yeah!" Ned perked up, pulling out his iPhone.
Yeah, I know. A smartphone in 2007. Weird, right? But in the Marvel Universe, it kinda made sense. Oscorp was pushing medical tech, Stark Industries was cranking out advanced chips for military gear, and even Hammer Industries… existed, I guess. I forgot what they did.
"What am I even looking at?" I squinted at the screen.
"It's a Brooklyn Heights forum. Rumor is someone ran into a real-life superhero."
MJ raised a brow. "Doubt it."
Peter didn't say anything, but his face tightened. Nervous? Guilty?
Ned kept going. "No, I'm serious! Apparently this guy flew down from the sky, knocked a dude out with one punch, and jumped over a building!"
I glanced at Peter. He had that awkward "I'm not lying but I'm definitely hiding something" expression. Most people would brush it off—but I had meta knowledge.
That superhero? Probably Peter.
Sure, it could be Daredevil. But odds were slim. A couple months ago, we had a school trip to Oscorp. Peter had to leave early because of an "allergic reaction." A week later, Uncle Ben died.
By the time I regained my memories, it was already too late to save him—or steal the spider.
I never got the chance to meet Uncle Ben, but I still went to the funeral. Peter was my friend, and I knew what it felt like to lose a parent.
"Alright, everybody, settle down," Mr. Harrington walked in.
He was a decent guy, if not kind of awkward.
I glanced around. More students had filtered in. Across from the jocks was a trio of cheerleaders—Liz Allan among them.
Not important.
What was interesting was Gwen Stacy, sitting a couple seats over.
She was different from the versions I remembered. Big geek energy. Braces, thick red glasses, blonde ponytail. Total opposite of Spider-Verse punk rock Gwen.
"Before we begin—" Mr. Harrington's voice faded into background noise.
Perks of living a second life: I already knew everything they were going to teach.
I was twenty in my last life. High school diploma, done and dusted.
Granted, history might be a little different here. Hydra, Captain America. Still, that was a problem for future Leo.
As the day dragged on, I tried to remember more about this universe. Who existed, how far tech had advanced, which characters were active.
Mutants were definitely around. I'd seen the occasional protest on TV—angry boomers with signs, shouting nonsense.
I didn't hate mutants. I didn't exactly like them either. I just didn't trust all of them. Some had powers they clearly couldn't handle responsibly. Just because you say sorry doesn't make it okay to invade someone's mind.
Fantastic Four? No idea. Either they didn't exist or hadn't gone to space yet.
Tony Stark was still the Merchant of Death. Looked like Robert Downey Jr.'s long-lost cousin or something.
"I gotta do some research," I muttered.
___
The school bell filled the hallways.
"Finally!"
School was just as exhausting as he remembered, but at least it was over for the day.
Most of the classes were pretty easy, except for math class. Since i'm here on a math scholarship, I had to take a special math class. One that was more 'accustomed' to my level, if you get what i mean.
Most scholarship students have to take special classes. From what I can recall, Peter took advanced engineering, as well as advanced biology and chemistry with Gwen Stacy. Flash had a class called body development or something, I wasn't sure what MJ took though.
[Quest completed.]
"Yes!"
I really wanted to use his Gacha System, but i was smart enough to know it was probably a bad idea in public.
"Hey Peter, Leo," Ned called out.
"Yeah?" Peter and I responded in unison.
"Are we still playing the new map tonight?"
Ned was talking about a game that was basically the Marvel version of COD, sort of the same story. Except the main villain was just changed to Hydra, there was also the occasional reference to Captain America.
"Sorry, but I can't. I have homework I need to catch up on. Maybe next time," Peter explained.
"I got chores, man. Sorry," I lied. Well, technically I did have chores, I just wasn't going to do them at the moment.
"That sucks, I really wanted to play the—" Ned's complaint was cut off as he was shoved to the side.
Flash came out of nowhere, pushing Ned and slamming Peter into the locker.
"What the hell! You alright, Peter?" I tried to help Peter get back up, but Flash shoved me back.
"Stay out of this, loser!" Flash threatened with a smirk. "This is between me and Puny Parker."
"Seriously, Flash? The day's almost over. Can't we just save it for tomorrow or something?" Peter let out a groan.
Which was weird considering Peter's spider-enhanced body, I'm assuming it didn't really hurt him. Probably acted like it did so people weren't suspicious of him, trying to keep a good cover.
"That's where you're wrong, Parker. Your beatings are daily." Flash struck his palm with his fist. A few of the jocks behind him smirked. A few were just staring at their phones.
Everybody else was either trying to ignore the situation or just staring.
As much as I hated to admit it, I understood why. Like most schools, athletes got special treatment. So even if it was reported, Flash wouldn't get in any serious trouble.
"The fuck is wrong with Flash? He's in high school but he's still acting like a dick." Bullies always pissed me off.
Ever since I could remember I hated bullies, I always wanted to beat the shit out of one. Sadly, Flash was three times my size. So I'll have to be smarter, which means I have to cheat.
With everybody distracted, I walked up behind Flash. Bent down and locked eyes with Peter.
Peter's eyes widened in fear. I just smiled in response. I grabbed Flash's leg, and pulled.
In an instant, Flash fell forward, landing face-first on the ground. Half the crowd snorted, while the rest just laughed.
Flash raised his head and scowled. He stared at me, pure anger in his eyes.
"Well, the show's over."
I locked eyes with Peter once again. "Run!" In less than a second, I booked it down the hall. Peter and Flash stumbled to get back up, luckily Peter was faster and was able to escape before Flash could catch him.
___
"Jesus... Christ." I was exhausted.
Panting like a wild animal, the other metro riders glanced at me in confusion.
The next hour or so was painful.I had no water, so I had to ride the metro dehydrated and out of breath.
"Maybe the Gacha will give me something to help with running," I couldn't help but hope.
[5 XP has been earned for helping Peter Parker with his bullying problem.]
"Shit?" I looked around frantically. He was half expecting people to be looking at him in shock or fear, but nobody was.
"Looks like I'm the only one who can see the system screen. Good to know."
___
An hour later, I reached my home. I couldn't help but feel lonely. The house was completely silent, but that didn't matter—because it was time. Time for me to use the Gacha.
Suddenly, I let out a trio of violent coughs. My lungs felt like they were burning.
"Maybe after some water."
After chugging a cup or two of water, Leo took a seat at the end of his bed.
"Finally." He rubbed his hands in excitement. Enough stalling. It was time.
"Uhm… What should I say? Show me the Gacha?"
[Current GP: 10]
[1 GP = 1 Card (0% chance)]
[3 GP = 3 Cards (20% chance)]
[5 GP = 5 Cards (35% chance)]
[7 GP = 7 Cards (50% chance)]
[10 GP = 10 Cards (75% chance)]
"Like they say in Vegas—go big or go home. DRAW 10"
The Gacha screen displayed a multicolored light, which kind of felt dramatic.