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After Joe shared his dream of a company that's going to take the world by a storm upon its maturity, Peter was awed even more. 


Joe's ambitions were wild and nearly omnipotent. Compared to his clueless life, Peter felt like a clown—like a lone fisherman sailing blinding in a vast sea of possibilities. Life was already depressing enough to even think about such lavish grandeur. With his other identity as Spider-Man, the hero of Queens, Peter thought it would be impossible to live freely. 



There was simply no time for stability. A stable life was both a luxury and a dream that Peter yearned for. However, it eluded him. 



But Joe had said that what he was currently experiencing was a trial, which Peter, at first, found nonsensical. Were trials supposed to be this... this ruthless? Was Uncle Ben's death supposed to be part of fate's mechanization? Peter hated everything about his life, but he had to endure. Hope and perseverance was something that he had never lacked. And his sophisticated buddy, Joe Petersen, just happened to be that hope thrown into his life when he was down. For once, Peter thought that, at least, his bleak existence was being rectified. 



While Joe's plans were merely unacted plans, Peter had every reason to trust him. He was in the lowest moments, so why not? Joe had already proven himself capable of bringing substantial results to the table. Several weeks ago when Joe had declared that he would develop a game, Peter thought that it would do good but not like it had boomed in the present. 



Now what will be the results after Prometheus International comes to fruition? Peter held off the thought of the company standing shoulder-to-shoulder with giants like Microsoft and Stark Industries. 



"What are you fantasizing about?" Joe asked, his eyes stuck on the TV. There was some shit about Stark's hearing which he didn't have any reason to watch. 



"Haha, um, nothing. Just a lot of confusion playing round and round inside my head," Peter chuckled nervously before circling his index finger. 




"I-I feel damn lucky to have you, man." 



Joe heavily scrunched his brows after hearing that. "That's corny and gay, bro." 



Peter palmed his face in extreme embarrassment. It had taken all his courage to spew those lines. However, Joe just had to be a sleazy prick. 



"C'mon, stop with that shy act, Pete. I understand what you meant. Aren't we bros?" A huge smirk stretched Joe's mouth as he forcefully patted Peter's back. 



"I know. B-But please stop harassing my damn back. It hasn't been in the greatest state," Peter grumbled in a high-pitched voice before swatting Joe's arm away. 



"Do you live off messing around with others?" Peter's mouth twitched, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. 



"Maybe, but what do you mean your back isn't 'in the greatest state'. Did you get thrown into a wall by some villain?" 



"Something like that. Being Spider-Man isn't as easy as people think." 



"Risking your life to save unknown people on an almost daily basis can't ever be easy. That... takes some massive balls. You see... It's hilarious that I've never seen myself as a hero." 



"Why though?" Peter asked, his thin brows arched in curiosity. 



Joe chuckled, his tone dark and otherworldly. "Because I prefer my freedom. The most feared people in history are the unhinged ones—absolutely free individuals. Not bound by the laws of man, of the divine, and hypocritical morality. I want my existence to be an act of rebellion against fate and all the shackles imposed on man." 



Peter narrowed his eyes, a serious expression on his face. There was something about Joe's words that made his Spidey sense tingle, and it wasn't in a good way. It was a powerful, oppressive feeling that he couldn't put a finger on. He sounded like a super-powerful villain whom he couldn't win against through conventional means. The mere thought alone was ridiculous. 



How can I envision Joe as a villain? He's just a normal man with pretty impressive intellect. He would do more good to the world than harm, Peter shook those thoughts away. 



"That's lame. You like talking as if you are the end-game boss or something. Even superhumans like me can't go against the laws of man and the universe. Spider-Man can be killed and isn't immortal. We were made to be imperfect, bro. What you just said is just... is just a fool's dream." 



"Well, unless you become God, which is... Gazillion percent impossible." Peter gave Joe a reality check. 




Joe remained silent, touching his chin as he casually digested Peter's words. "Hmm, your words are logical, I can't refute that. I guess my words are just baseless and pure fantasy." 



"Huh?" Peter shifted his posture to squarely look at Joe. Did Joe just end the debate by admitting he was wrong? This is a rare occurrence. 



"Your expression tells me that you don't believe everything I said," Joe scoffed. 



"How can I?" Peter widened his mouth in mock astonishment. 


"Whatever." Joe rolled his eyes, ending the spiel he had been spitting about freedom. 


Do Americans even have freedom? Maybe the day I renounce my American status and the world in general, will I truly achieve freedom, Joe humored himself. 



After that, Joe and Peter talked about the future prospects of their rough plans. At the end of it all, it all boiled down to massive amounts of money. The starting capital had to be thoroughly catered for. Peter was intimidated by the digits but Joe remained unfazed. Be it six or eight digits, nothing was impossible for him to procure. That was something Peter shouldn't worry about. He was the face of the company and Peter was just someone under him. So the financial decisions were all on Joe. 



Anyway, Peter stayed the night after giving Aunt May a call to reassure her worried heart. The calls and texts wouldn't stop if he didn't inform her. 



Hours passed, and on the first light of the day brightening the ceiling of New York, Joe woke up early with a bigger purpose. Peter was a heavy sleeper and Joe had to kick his drooling mess off the coach. Then, Joe 'banished' him from his quarters. After that late-night men's talk, Peter was now ready to face the world. No more crying, no more acting depressed. He had to evolve his character.  To grow stronger emotionally. 



"You keep on surprising me, my creator. I thought you would have ignored him and chosen to continue your vital research instead. He's a pitiful young man after all. There's nothing special about him except for his unique powers. How can someone get superpowers from a radioactive spider anyway?" Those were the first greetings Minerva spoke, a few minutes after Peter left. 



Joe stuffed the bacon into his mouth, unhurried with his reply. "That sums it all. Peter isn't special but... He is still my friend. He saved me from a certain death. Being there for him instead of ignoring him will make me feel really, really bad. Even though I'm an asshole (sometimes), my mama taught me to always pay my debts." 



Minerva's attractive holographic figure materialized opposite Joe's seat. 



"You are a good friend, Joe. It almost feels like a fabricated lie." Minerva leaned forward, her hands clasped below her chin. 



Joe gulped down his juice, unbothered by Minerva's taunt. Placing the glass down, Joe sighed in satisfaction. 



"Have you done what I asked for, yesternight?" Joe tossed a question. 



Minerva pouted, clear frustration imminent on her face. Did I just get ignored? Not like it matters. 



Minerva waved her hands and a holographic blueprint of a house formed in front of her. 



"Everything's done. Here's the layout of Hank Pym's entire residence."  



Joe silently studied every minute detail of the structure within seconds, not leaving anything out. Then, a small smile graced his face. 



"Minerva, are you ready for a trip to San Francisco? There are some things I left with Hank Pym for safekeeping," Joe shamelessly stated. 



"Don't you feel uncomfortable with that level of shamelessness?" Minerva smiled, befuddled by the audacity of the man sitting across from her.



"Well, that's the whole point of being shameless, Min. You're not supposed to give a shite." 



***

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