That single ache forced Peter to recognize an absolute truth.
No matter how insanely powerful he had just become, inside this house, he was still just the little brother.
And his cousin was the insurmountable mountain he would never be able to cross!
Surprisingly, Peter didn't mind the feeling of a mountain blocking his path. In fact, he found it incredibly comforting.
Since he couldn't climb over it, he might as well just turn around, lean back, and rest against it.
What was wrong with having a massive mountain shielding you from the wind and rain?
Besides, if you actually managed to cross the mountain, who was to say there wasn't a bottomless abyss waiting on the other side?
Having regained his rationality, Peter's mind immediately pivoted to the source of his new abilities.
Given Tobey's casual display of identical, superhuman strength, a spark of inspiration flashed through Peter's brilliant brain.
"I know what this is! Tobey, we must be experiencing a bloodline awakening, right? The Parker family must possess some kind of ancient, hidden genetic talent, and the two of us just happened to awaken it! Tell me I'm right!"
"Right... right into your uncle's smelly boots!"
Tobey raised his hand and ruthlessly flicked Peter on the forehead again.
"I told you to stop watching so much anime. Bloodline awakening? We live in the United States, Peter, not Japan. What kind of ancient bloodline do you think we're going to awaken?"
"The ancient bloodline of professional cotton-gin repairmen?"
After harshly shutting down Peter's dramatic teenage fantasies, Tobey walked over to a blank section of the concrete wall and pressed his palm flat against it.
Beep.
With a mechanical hum, the wall smoothly split down the middle, revealing a hidden staircase descending even further underground.
Peter stared blankly at the dark passage.
A basement inside the basement?
How did he not know his own house had a secret subterranean level? When did Tobey even dig this out?
Tobey obviously had no intention of answering those boring questions. He was already walking down the stairs.
Suppressing his endless curiosity, Peter hurried after him.
Once he reached the bottom, Peter realized he had stepped into a completely different world.
Unlike the heavy-duty gym above, this subterranean floor was a cutting-edge laboratory. It was packed with highly advanced, incredibly expensive scientific equipment that easily rivaled Dr. Connors's private lab at Oscorp.
But Peter's eyes weren't drawn to the multi-million-dollar tech.
His gaze was instantly locked onto a massive, brilliantly lit glass display wall showcasing a series of suits.
Drawn forward by an invisible force, Peter walked up to the display cases. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the thick glass as he examined the suits from left to right.
Suit Number One.
It consisted of a simple black ski mask, dark sunglasses, a crimson hoodie, black cargo pants, and heavy black combat boots. The ultimate thug aesthetic.
This was the improvised outfit Tobey had worn when he first "debuted," throwing it together to mask his identity and prevent the lawless psychopaths of Hell's Kitchen from tracking him home.
Suit Number Two.
A massive upgrade. He had abandoned the thrift-store aesthetic for a seamless, pure black, one-piece bodysuit. The material was a massive step up as well, upgrading from cheap cotton to a high-tensile spandex polymer.
This was the first true tactical suit Tobey had crafted himself, purchased using the early funds Kingpin had laundered for him after he officially became an underworld assassin.
Suit Number Three.
This was the suit Tobey currently wore for his active contracts. The very same black and crimson armor he had worn to massacre the Nihon Syndicate.
He hadn't made this one himself. He had commissioned a highly exclusive designer in the criminal underworld to forge it.
Not only was the craftsmanship infinitely superior to his homemade version, but the material was an exponential upgrade over Suit Two. It was constructed from a composite ballistic nylon capable of stopping small-caliber gunfire.
The color scheme had also evolved. While the mask, shoulders, and gloves remained pitch black, the rest of the suit was a deep, aggressive crimson. Right in the center of the chest sat a jet-black spider emblem, marking his lethal identity.
The functionality had been completely overhauled as well. Beyond being bulletproof, the suit featured waterproofing, thermal regulation, automated drying, sensory amplification, and built-in thermal imaging lenses.
While it wasn't quite on the level of the nanotechnology Tony Stark would eventually invent, it was still a pure masterpiece of black tech.
And that single suit had cost Tobey nearly ten million dollars!
If the suit hadn't actually functioned flawlessly in combat, Tobey would have crushed the underworld designer's skull the second he heard the price tag.
Selling bespoke tactical gear to supervillains was apparently vastly more lucrative than actually robbing cartels!
And even with ten million dollars, money alone wasn't enough to buy one.
That specific designer only crafted suits for world-renowned assassins. A run-of-the-mill hitman couldn't even get an audience with him, let alone commission a piece.
If Tobey hadn't already carved out a terrifying reputation as the 'Poison Spider,' and if Kingpin hadn't personally acted as the middleman, the designer would have rejected his ten million without a second thought.
This was exactly why Tobey constantly accepted high-paying hits and maintained a positive working relationship with Kingpin, despite knowing exactly what kind of monster Fisk was.
In the real world, absolute power meant nothing without money and connections.
Finally, Peter's eyes landed on the fourth and final suit in the display.
He couldn't look away.
It was a striking red and blue tactical suit. The foundational design was largely identical to Tobey's third suit, but with several critical, highly detailed differences.
For instance, while Tobey's suit was completely devoid of patterns outside of the chest emblem, the upper half of this red and blue suit was covered in an intricate, raised webbing pattern centered entirely around the spider logo.
The color palette was also vastly different. Tobey's crimson and black screamed of a morally ambiguous, hyper-lethal predator.
This suit utilized a bright, heroic red, paired with a vibrant blue—a color combination almost never utilized by underworld mercenaries or villains.
It practically radiated pure heroism.
But the most glaring difference of all was the size.
Compared to the first three suits, this one was significantly smaller.
It was mathematically impossible for Tobey's two-meter, three-hundred-pound frame to squeeze into it. Instead, the proportions looked perfectly tailored for...
Peter suddenly snapped his head toward Tobey. His breathing hitched with sudden, overwhelming excitement.
"Tobey... is this..."
Tobey had been leaning casually against the far wall, quietly watching Peter examine the timeline of his armor. Seeing Peter stop in front of the fourth case and ask the obvious question, Tobey finally pushed off the wall.
He walked over and pressed his palm against the scanner.
Hiss.
The glass casing holding the red and blue suit slid open. Tobey smirked.
"What are you standing there looking stupid for? You didn't actually think I could fit into this, did you? My size isn't nearly as small as yours."
Hearing this, Peter's overwhelming surge of emotion was instantly interrupted by a thick layer of dark lines dropping over his forehead.
Joke all you want, but don't insult a man's size!
He wasn't small!
But then...
Peter suddenly remembered the times they had competed to see who could pee farther when they were kids. Remembering the absolute high-pressure fire hose his cousin was equipped with, Peter fell completely silent.
Dammit. It seemed he had encountered a mathematically unsolvable problem.