Super Template System In Marvel and Beyond

He looked out across the rooftops, eyes sharp with new resolve.

"Now the real question is… what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Hmm, that's a good question," a voice said suddenly from his side.

Peter jerked back in surprise, startled. His Spider-Sense hadn't even warned him—whoever this was had somehow slipped past it.

A figure stood nearby, calm, arms crossed.

"Relax," the man said casually. "I'm not here to harm you."

Peter narrowed his eyes, taking a closer look. Recognition dawned on him almost instantly.

"You… It's you!" he exclaimed, stepping back instinctively.

"You're that guy! The world-strongest man—Dave Garcia!"

Dave smirked, giving a short nod.

"Yes. That title belongs to me," Dave said calmly as he slowly walked toward Peter.

As Dave confirmed it, Peter looked at him in disbelief.

"But... why are you here?"

Dave gave a light shrug.

"Well, I was just passing by when I saw someone jumping around like a monkey across rooftops."

Hearing him say that, Peter felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

"Yeah... that was me," he admitted awkwardly.

"Seeing your raw movements, I'd guess you got these powers pretty recently," Dave observed.

Peter nodded. "Actually, yeah—it was just today. A spider bit me back at Oscorp during a school trip. I think that's what gave me these abilities."

He said it plainly, not hiding anything. Dave chuckled softly at his openness.

"You might want to not tell people exactly where your powers came from," Dave advised, raising an eyebrow.

"Especially when it's a major corporation like Oscorp. That kind of information can get you into all kinds of trouble."

Peter blinked, realizing the weight of that. "Right... good point."

Dave gave him a relaxed nod.

"Anyway, to answer your question—what you're supposed to do with these powers?"

He tapped Peter lightly on the chest.

"Just do what your heart says… and you'll be fine."

Peter looked down, thoughtful. For the first time that night, the confusion and panic in his mind began to settle—replaced by a flicker of clarity.

Peter looked at Dave earnestly and said,

"Can you teach me? How to be like you?"

He quickly clarified, stumbling over his words.

"I mean—not just be you, but how to become a great hero... like you."

Dave let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"Kid, I'm not a hero. I'm a selfish man. I only care about myself. The only time I show up on the news is when someone tries to force me into some grand cause... and usually, they regret it the next day."

He looked Peter dead in the eye.

"You still want to learn from someone like me?"

Peter didn't flinch. He met Dave's gaze with quiet determination.

"Yes. Maybe to the world you're not a traditional hero... but I've seen how you fight. The way you move—you're not just powerful, you're experienced. You've been through it. I really want to learn from you."

Dave stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a faint smirk, he sighed.

"Huh... never thought it'd go down like this."

He looked away for a second, then back at Peter.

"Alright then. Come to my home tomorrow. We'll talk... and maybe train."

With that, Dave turned, stepped off the edge of the rooftop—and vanished with a sudden burst of movement, disappearing into the night.

Peter stood in stunned silence for a few seconds, then let out a breathless laugh.

"Damn... I can't believe it. I didn't just meet a Strongest Avenger—I'm actually going to train with him tomorrow."

A grin slowly formed on his face as he looked out at the city, heart pounding not with fear, but anticipation.

*** Next Day

The Next Day — Late Afternoon

Peter stood in front of a large, modern-yet-humble building tucked between a quiet stretch of city blocks. The address matched what Dave had sent him. It didn't look like a superhero hideout… but something about the place had a strange energy to it.

He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

The door opened—not to Dave, but to a tall woman with long dark hair, golden eyes, and an aura of quiet power.

"You're Peter."

It wasn't a question.

"Uh—yeah. I'm here to see Dave. He said—"

"We know," came a second voice, soft and smooth.

Another woman appeared beside the first—this one with icy blue eyes, short silver hair, and a confident smirk. She looked Peter up and down.

"So this is the Spider-Kid. Cute."

Peter blinked. "Wait… are you…?"

Just then, two more women walked into view—one with wild crimson hair and tribal tattoos curling across her arms, and the other with violet hair and a sharp, analytical gaze behind sleek glasses.

Peter's eyes widened.

"No way… You're Boa, Trish, Diana, and Emma…"

He remembered reading that wild, speculative article online about Dave Garcia having four girlfriends—each a deadly powerhouse in her own right. Everyone thought it was clickbait.

Apparently… it wasn't.

"He wasn't kidding…" Peter muttered, stunned.

"You're all real. And really, really… intimidating."

Boa stepped forward and smiled softly.

"Relax. We don't bite."

Then, after a pause, she winked.

"Unless you ask nicely."

Peter's face turned bright red.

Emma crossed her arms and nodded toward the hallway.

"Dave told us you're someone special. That you have potential. So he asked us to help get you started."

"Wait—really? You're going to help train me?"

Trish cracked her knuckles.

"Yup. Spider reflexes or not, you're green. We'll see what you're made of."

Diana walked past him toward a sparring room down the hall, glancing back.

"First lesson: keep your guard up at all times. You're not fighting school bullies anymore."

Peter swallowed nervously and followed.

"This is either the best or scariest day of my life…"

Boa chuckled. "With us? It's usually both."

And thus, what Peter thought was going to be a beautiful, inspiring training session… turned into something much more brutal.

A hellish experience began—one that left him beaten to the edge of consciousness, healed, and then thrown right back into it. Again. And again.

Each of the four women trained him relentlessly.

Boa broke down his instincts with punishing reflex drills.

Trish pushed his body through relentless combat endurance.

Diana tested his agility and awareness with brutal sparring.

And Emma challenged his mind, making sure he didn't just fight—but thought like a warrior.

By the end of the day, Peter was flat on the floor, soaked in sweat, bruised all over, and barely able to move.

Meanwhile, miles away—

Dave leaned back in his seat aboard a private jet, a tablet in one hand as he scrolled through recent footage from the training facility.

He paused on a still image of Peter collapsed on the mat, Emma standing over him like a disappointed teacher.

Dave smirked and shook his head.

"Poor kid. I almost feel bad for him."

*******

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