A New Day
Waking Up to Results
Peter groaned as his alarm blared, burying his face into his pillow.
“SIR, IT IS ELEVEN-THIRTY A.M. THE BAXTER INTERNSHIP RESULTS WILL BE ANNOUNCED IN EXACTLY THIRTY MINUTES.”
Peter let out a muffled groan. “Why did I let you wake me up this early?”
“YOU REQUESTED IT LAST NIGHT, SIR. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PLAY A REFRESHING MORNING PLAYLIST?”
“ERIC, if you play anything, I swear I’ll reprogram you to only speak in 2000s meme references.”
“ACKNOWLEDGED, SIR. I WILL REMAIN SILENT… ”
Peter sighed and forced himself out of bed. His dorm was still a war zone of blueprints, wires, and coffee cups. He rubbed his eyes, shuffled to his desk, and cracked open his laptop.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.”
He checked his university portal first.
A message from his professor was pinned at the top.
Peter Parker,
Your recent absence from classes has been noted. As per university regulations, students who fail to meet attendance requirements will be penalized. However, considering your academic performance, your case is under review.
• Professor Harris
Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, threaten me all you want.”
He scrolled to his exam results.
100%.
Peter smirked. “Of course.”
He closed the tab and pulled up the Baxter internship portal.
Baxter Internship Results
“SIR, RESULTS HAVE BEEN POSTED. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO FILTER FOR YOUR NAME?”
“Nah, I got it.”
Peter scrolled through the list of accepted applicants.
And there it was:
Peter Parker – Selected for Next Round.
Peter grinned.“Well, what do you know?”
“CONGRATULATIONS, SIR. SELECTED CANDIDATES ARE REQUIRED TO REPORT TO THE BAXTER BUILDING IN TWO DAYS WITH THEIR PROTOTYPES FOR A LIVE PRESENTATION AND INTERVIEW.”
Peter leaned back in his chair. “Alright, that gives us some time to fine-tune everything.”
“WOULD YOU LIKE TO COMMENCE ADDITIONAL TESTING ON THE PROTOTYPE?”
“Nah, I need a break.” He stretched, then cracked his knuckles. “Let’s go patrol for a bit.”
“ACTIVATING SPIDER-SUIT SYSTEMS. HAVE A SAFE PATROL, SIR.”Peter leapt off his dorm’s rooftop, freefalling for a moment before firing a web and swinging into the open sky. The rush of wind against his face was exhilarating—a welcome relief from staring at screens all night.
New York City was buzzing as usual: taxi drivers cursing, tourists gawking, street vendors hustling.
“SIR, POLICE SCANNER DETECTS A VEHICLE PURSUIT ON FIFTH AVENUE. STOLEN SUV, FOUR SUSPECTS, HEAVILY ARMED.”
Peter adjusted his trajectory. “Alright, let’s ruin their day.”
The stolen black SUV tore through the streets, civilians diving out of the way as the driver ignored every red light. Two police cars trailed behind, sirens blaring.
One of the passengers leaned out with an automatic rifle, firing at the cops.
Peter shot a web at a lamppost, spun around, and launched himself toward the SUV.
“Hey, fellas! Quick question—do you guys have a driver’s license?”
The gunman turned in shock, just as Peter webbed the barrel of his gun and yanked it away.
“Y’know, firing out of a moving car? Not a great idea. But don’t worry, I’ll give you a ticket.”
He flipped over the car, shot two webs to the roof, and ripped off the doors.
The driver screamed. “What the—?!”
Peter punched him in the face, knocking him out cold.
The SUV spun out, screeching against the pavement before crashing into a streetlight.
The remaining robbers tried to flee.
Peter landed in front of them, arms crossed.
“Running? Really? After all that?”
One of them swung a crowbar. Peter dodged, grabbed his wrist, and webbed him to a mailbox.
The last guy raised his hands in surrender.
Peter nodded. “Smart choice.”
Police officers rushed in, guns drawn.
One of them gave Peter a thumbs-up. “Nice work, Spidey.”
Peter saluted. “All in a night’s work.”
As Peter swung through the city, he activated his communicator.
“ERIC, run a quick check. Any major threats left tonight?”
“NEGATIVE, SIR. THE REMAINING REPORTS ARE MINOR INCIDENTS.”
“Great. Let’s head back.”
“UNDERSTOOD, SIR. SHALL I UPDATE YOUR CALENDAR FOR THE BAXTER INTERVIEW?”
“Yeah, and remind me to not sleep through it.”
“NOTED, SIR. I WILL WAKE YOU UP WITH A HIGH-ENERGY SOUNDTRACK.”
Peter groaned. “Just… don’t make it Nickelback.”
“ACKNOWLEDGED, SIR.”
Peter adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket as he walked up to the towering Baxter Building. It wasn’t anything fancy—just his best attempt at looking presentable—but his physique filled it out well, giving him a refined yet sharp look.
“ERIC, navigate me to the interview location,” Peter muttered under his breath.
“Of course, sir. The primary entrance leads to a security checkpoint. Once cleared, take the elevator to the twelfth floor, where the internship candidates are to wait. You will receive further instructions there.”
Peter exhaled, stepping into the grand lobby of the building. The place screamed high-level innovation—sleek glass walls, cutting-edge holographic displays showcasing Baxter Corporation’s latest advancements, and personnel dressed in professional attire, moving with purpose.
He made his way toward the security checkpoint when something—or rather, someone—completely derailed his train of thought.
An incredibly beautiful blonde woman stood a few feet away, her presence commanding attention without effort. Her curves, proportions, and sheer confidence put even supermodels and goddesses to shame. She had a heart-shaped face, piercing blue eyes, and golden hair that cascaded in perfect waves. She exuded elegance, intelligence, and just the right amount of effortless allure.
Peter’s brain short-circuited. His eyes were shamelessly drinking in every inch of her, lingering on the way her form-fitting outfit accentuated her flawless figure. A primal, almost magnetic attraction pulled at him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like a complete idiot.
Then she turned to him, caught him staring, and quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
He immediately snapped out of it—just in time to see her smirk. She took a step forward and casually poked his bicep.
“See something you like?” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.
Peter’s brain fried. Words? What were those? He was supposed to form them, right?
“I—uh—no—I mean, yes—wait, no, not like that—” he stumbled, his face heating up in pure embarrassment.
She laughed, soft and utterly enchanting, before shaking her head. “Relax, handsome. I’m just messing with you.”
Handsome? What?
Before he could process that, she tilted her head. “You here for the internship interviews?”
Peter cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Uh, yeah. First time here.”
She smiled. “Elevators to the right. Twelfth floor. Follow the signs. Good luck.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away, her confident strides as mesmerizing as the rest of her.
Peter stared some more, still reeling.
“Sir, I advise you to stop gawking before you make a bigger fool of yourself.”
Peter blinked. “Right. Yeah. Good idea.”
As he walked toward the elevators, still feeling residual embarrassment, ERIC decided to drop the bomb.
“That, sir, was Doctor Susan Storm.”
Peter stopped in his tracks. “Wait—what?”
“Doctor Susan Storm. She holds multiple PhDs, making her one of the leading minds at Baxter Corporation. And yes, she is also widely regarded as one of the most beautiful women in the world.”
Peter groaned, rubbing his face. “So, let me get this straight—I just made an idiot out of myself in front of her? Great. Fantastic. Off to an amazing start.”
“I wouldn’t worry, sir. She seemed amused rather than disgusted.”
“Yeah, because I looked like a lost puppy trying to speak.”
“At least you didn’t drool.”
“ERIC, not helping.”
Suppressing another groan, Peter focused on the interview ahead, stepping into the waiting area. Several other candidates were already present, most of them significantly older than him. Not surprising. Baxter didn’t accept just anyone—they wanted the brightest minds.
After what felt like an eternity, a voice finally called his name.
Peter stood before the interview panel, a team of Baxter’s most accomplished engineers and scientists—including Reed Richards himself. His prototype was set up on the table, ready to be presented.
“Mr. Parker, let’s begin,” Reed said, glancing at Peter’s submitted reports and schematics. “Explain your project in detail—motivation, function, and expected applications.”
Peter nodded and launched into his presentation. Peter dived into the technical details, discussing energy retention, conductivity optimization, and stability under extreme conditions. The conversation turned into a long back-and-forth discussion, with the panel pressing for clarifications and Peter holding his ground with confident, well-reasoned explanations.
After a rigorous Q&A session, the head of the panel finally spoke. “Thank you, Mr. Parker. We’ll announce the results in a few days. If selected, you’ll be expected to continue working on your prototype here at Baxter. If not, your project will be returned to you.”
Peter nodded, keeping his expression neutral despite the anticipation building inside him. “Understood.”
As he left the interview room, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders loosening slightly. It had gone well—he was sure of it. But whether it was good enough to make the cut? That was another story.
Back in his dorm, Peter leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
“Well, that happened,” he muttered.
“You performed exceptionally, sir. Your responses were thorough, and your prototype was well received.”
Peter smirked slightly. “You’re just saying that to boost my ego.”
“Incorrect. I do not deal in flattery—only facts.”
Peter chuckled, running a hand through his hair. But then his mind drifted to something else.
Or rather, someone else.
Susan Storm.
The way she had teased him, the soft laughter, the way she looked like pure perfection standing there—
Peter groaned. “I totally blew my first impression, didn’t I?”
“Given that she smiled and wished you luck, I do not believe she viewed the interaction negatively. However, if you continue replaying it in your head obsessively, you may develop an unhealthy attachment to the moment.”
Peter sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just… I wanted to make a good first impression, you know?”
“Sir, your intelligence will speak for itself. If she is to be impressed by anything, it will be your brilliance—not your ability to string together coherent sentences in her presence.”
Peter exhaled. “You know, sometimes, you really know what to say.”
“I am designed to be the perfect assistant, sir.”
Shaking his head with a small smile, Peter closed his eyes. Now, all that was left to do was wait.
For his results.
And maybe—just maybe—another encounter with Doctor Susan Storm.