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Chapter Text

The hallways of Midtown High were chaos incarnate. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked, and the air smelled faintly of gym socks and whatever the cafeteria was trying to pass off as food. Peter Parker’s arms were overloaded with textbooks, notebooks, and an unreasonably heavy backpack dangling off one shoulder. He couldn’t help but imagine every footstep behind him as a potential ambush.

“Don’t trip… don’t trip… don’t trip,” Peter muttered under his breath, eyes flicking left and right for any sign of Flash Thompson or the rest of Midtown’s eager punching bag enthusiasts.

Inevitably, his nerves betrayed him. One misjudged step on a slick patch of linoleum sent him lurching forward, his books flying in a perfect academic explosion. Peter froze mid-fall, bracing for the shove, the laughter, the inevitable humiliation that always followed. Midtown High had a reputation, after all. But then—

Thick, steady arms caught him before he hit the ground. Not only caught him, but lifted him slightly, steadying him like he weighed nothing at all.

“Hey… you okay?” a deep, calm voice asked.

Peter blinked, disoriented. No one ever stopped to help him. No one cared about Puny Parker, except for his very limited circle of friends.

He looked up, and immediately wished he hadn’t, as his acne-riddled cheeks quickly started to blush up when he noticed them.

His unlikely savior was a tall, broad-shouldered boy who looked like he’d been sculpted out of marble and protein shakes—a walking embodiment of the varsity football team. Except… he wasn’t sneering. He was smiling at Peter, warm and genuine, his chocolate-brown eyes glinting with something almost fond—like he was looking at a stray puppy he couldn’t help but rescue, or little baby barnyard animals. And he wasn’t alone.

Standing behind him were three others.

The one closest to the giant was a golden-haired heartthrob who looked like he’d wandered off the set of a surf movie—tanned skin, sharp jawline, and an effortless kind of cool that made a few girls nearby giggle and whisper. But he ignored them. His eyes—an unreal shade of jade green, too vivid to be natural—were fixed on Peter. A sideways smile spread across his face as he slightly tilted his head like he had some unknown secret he wished to share with Peter. One that he knows Peter will like to hear. He looked like the kind of guy who would be graceful and captivatingly cryptic without even needing to.

Next to him stood a boy with tan skin, sharper features, and eyes of a darker green—still beautiful, but edged with something dangerous. Unlike the others, he didn’t meet Peter’s gaze. Instead, he stared down at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Every now and then his eyes flicked up toward Peter before darting away again, a faint pink blush creeping onto his cheeks. He had that air of someone who was snarky because he struggled to explain his feelings for you.

And finally, there was the girl.

She was stunning— a Brazilian goddess with long, sleek dark hair and eyes to match. She carried herself like a queen who didn’t need a crown—poised, focused, every inch of her radiating the confidence of a straight-A student who ran every extracurricular and still had time to win decathlons. Peter could practically hear his brain labeling her: Honor student. Overachiever. Way out of your league.

Yet here she was, gathering his scattered books with graceful efficiency.

“Here,” she said, handing them to him. “You dropped these.” Her voice was soft, but carried a certain weight Peter couldn’t quite understand.

“I—thanks,” he managed, his voice cracking embarrassingly high. He clutched the books to his chest, painfully aware of how sweaty his palms were. “Uh… sorry,” he added for no discernible reason.

Inside, his brain was melting. Exchange students? That had to be it. They have to be exchange students. Nobody else would talk to me.

The blond boy leaned in slightly, that teasing glint never leaving his eyes. His voice was both smooth, soothing, almost musical, like syrupy honey. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got your back.”

Peter didn’t know whether to feel flattered or terrified. He’d never been the center of attention for anyone, let alone four impossibly attractive strangers all looking at him like he mattered.

“I—I’ve gotta go,” he blurted out.

He bolted down the hallway, clutching his books like a shield, hoping to spare them the embarrassment of being seen with Puny Parker. They were new—obviously. They didn’t know how things worked here. Hanging around him was social suicide, and Peter cared too much to let them suffer that fate. Not when they looked like they could easily become a part of the popular crowd and live comfortably for the rest of their high school lives.

Just leave. As fast as you can. That is the only way to help them. Spare them the misery of being in Peter Parker’s life.

But still… a small, stubborn voice in the back of his mind whispered, Why do they care so much?

Unbeknownst to Peter, the quartet of mysterious strangers watched him go, their expressions shifting to something heavier: sadness, nostalgia, and something else. Something much darker.

The girl lifted a hand to her ear, her tone quiet but firm.

“We’re in.”

Chapter Text

New York never truly slept, but it stirred to life as dawn painted the sky in warm shades of orange. And with it, so too arose the Ultimate Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was snoozing peacefully on his bed, one hand under his pillow, a leg dangling gracelessly off the edge. When the first rays of sunlight brushed his face, his eyes squinted in protest before blinking awake.

He sat up and let out a big, echoing yawn as he stretched—his back popping in satisfying ways.

“Yet another glorious rest for the Ultimate Spider-Man!” he announced proudly, arms flung wide. It was a joke, but the happiness behind it was genuine.

It had been a long time since he’d slept this well. After Ben’s death, nights of sound, uninterrupted rest had been few and far between, disrupted by either Spider-Man duties or nightmares that clawed at his mind. But now? Weeks of uninterrupted sleep. Bliss.

It seemed his sleep schedule had finally improved, like—everything else in his life!

Stretching, Peter flipped off the bed and landed perfectly on his feet. He basked in the imaginary applause of a nonexistent audience before moving on to his morning routine. Normally, mornings meant trudging, groaning, and dragging himself through the motions. But today?

Sunny, Smiley Peter was in charge.

He hummed under the shower, danced on his toes while brushing his teeth, and barely had to comb his hair, which sat perfectly messy on his head. When he finished, he slid into his usual clothes over his Spider-Man suit, enjoying the comfort of knowing Aunt May had long ago learned his secret.

The relief of no longer having to conjure the lamest excuses to cover his double life was immeasurable. He could simply be himself.

And speaking of Aunt May—

“Aunt May?” Peter called, making his way down the stairs. Strange. She was usually already up, making breakfast for the both of them. But the house smelled empty of the familiar aroma of wheatcakes, and no hum floated from the kitchen.

Curious and a little concerned, Peter searched the house. No Aunt May, but a pink note caught his eye, taped to the fridge, written in her familiar handwriting.

He read aloud: “‘Good morning, sweetie. Hope you had a good night’s sleep. There’s breakfast in the fridge for you. When you’re done, why don’t you head to the Triskelion? We’ve got a surprise for you. Love, May.’”

A grin spread across Peter’s face. A surprise? Now, that was intriguing.

He grabbed the breakfast May had prepared—pancake sandwiches, his favorite—and slipped into his civilian clothes over his Spider-Man suit. Once he finished, he pulled his mask down over his face and swung into action.

Climbing to the rooftop of the Parker household, he shot a webline and leapt, letting gravity take over.

“Woohoooo!”

Throughout New York, people paused to watch their favorite arachnid hero swing from building to building. Many of them were smiling, cheering, waving and even taking videos from their phones.

Peter laughed. In the past, he would never have imagined receiving this kind of attention. Many had ignored him or labeled him a menace. But those days were behind him. Now, the city recognized his efforts.

Thanks to him, New York’s streets have never been so safe with only the occasional petty thug or street gang popping up here or there. Even the Daily Bugle didn’t write as many trashy articles about him anymore, much to J. Jonah Jameson’s frustration.

And you know what? It felt good.

“Yeah!” Peter cheered, executing a mid-air acrobatic move before shooting another webline. The people below clapped and cheered.

“Spidey! You the man!” one bystander yelled.

“Thanks! You’re the woman!” Peter called back, giving her a wave.

All around, voices shouted their thanks and admiration:

“Spidey!”

“We love you, Spider-Man!”

“Thanks for taking care of those hoodlums!”

“You’re so cool!”

“Marry me!”

“No problem, New York!” Peter shouted, firing another web overhead. “Just part of being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as he swung off into the distance.

Soon, he arrived at the Triskelion on Roosevelt Island—commonly known as S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy—where young heroes trained. Peter had graduated with flying colors, largely thanks to saving the school during Doc Ock’s attack at his own graduation. Now, he had the honor of mentoring the next generation. How cool was that?

Landing gracefully on the helipad, he was met by Nick Fury, flanked by Agent Coulson.

“Spider-Man,” Fury greeted curtly.

“Director Fury, sir!” Peter responded with a mock salute.

“I’m assuming your aunt told you about the surprise?” Fury asked, eyebrow raised.

“What? Wait—“ Peter snorted. “You mean they roped you into this? Director Buzzkill?”

Fury’s eye narrowed. Coulson coughed to cover a smirk.

“Actually, the director won’t be present; he has work to oversee,” Coulson explained. “But I’m happy to show you where the surprise is being held.”

“Well then, lead the way.” Peter chirped, following close behind, giving Fury a pat on the back.

“Sorry you’re stuck on your 9-to-5, Director Buzzkill. I promise I’ll save you a piece of the surprise, whatever it is.”

This time, Fury glared. Peter removed his hand sheepishly and giggled, walking faster to catch up.

The Triskelion hallways were exactly as he remembered. Filled with advanced technology and the faint humming of machinery. Walking down them honestly filled Peter with nostalgia. He had his qualms about joining SHIELD all that time ago, but he could now safely announce that it had been probably the best decision of his life.

“Right here,” Coulson said, punching the passcode to a room.

Shivers ran down Peter’s spine—not from danger, but from the anticipation of joy. And as soon as he stepped inside—

“SURPRISE!!” Multiple voices erupted, and blue and red confetti rained down. “Happy Spider-Man Day!”

Peter gasped silently. Balloons, streamers, banners, and a centerpiece cake—red, blue, and spider-themed—filled the room. Games and party props covered the tables.

But what really caught Peter’s attention was their everyone was there. And by everyone, he meant everyone.

His original SHIELD team, the New Warriors, the Web Warriors, a couple of the teachers and staff, even the new students. All sporting party hats, whistles, sparklers— all spider-themed.

“Awww, guys. I love it. This is so thoughtful. Honestly, you shouldn’t have.” Peter chuckled, genuinely moved. Still, he couldn’t help but ask— “But uh- what exactly is the occasion? Because last time I checked, it wasn’t my birthday.”

“Duh! It’s Spider-Man Day!” Squirrel Girl announced, blowing again on her whistle blower.

“Spider-Man Day?” Peter parroted, tilting his head.

“It is a day to celebrate all your exploits aiding the city!” Triton boasted, lifting a cup of punch.

“Not to mention helping us.” Cloak added quietly, and Tandy nodded besides him.

“We owe you so much, my friend.” Danny smiled serenely, “Most of us wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Pshh. Speak for yourself.” Nova scoffed, crossing his arms. But Peter could see the tiniest of smiles on his face.

“Peter! My man!” Flash cheered, lifting Peter off the ground in a crushing hug.

“Ugh! Thanks Flash. Now could you let me down?” Peter coughed, straining under his friend’s hold. Heh. His friend. Now that was a funny thought.

Never would’ve Peter guessed that he’d be calling the former star quarterback — who’s been stuffing him inside lockers ever since he could remember — his friend. But here they are now, as close as brothers. Flash really has done a lot of maturing ever since he became Agent Venom. He could still be dim-witted, but he had a good heart underneath all those muscles.

Thankfully Flash let him down, giving him a hearty pat in the back which made Peter wince a little, but also laugh. Soon enough, he mingled with the rest of his friends.

Being surrounded by people who cared about him felt amazing. For years, it had been just him, Ben, and May. And then, just Aunt May and himself— braving against the world. Now, his family had grown beyond anything he’d imagined.

Aunt May appeared, giving him a warm hug. Peter smiled under his mask, hugging her back. This extended family was incredible, but Aunt May remained the center of his world.

“Are you gonna make a wish, sweetie?” she asked, holding up his cake. It was dark chocolate, his favorite flavor. And the frosting was blue and red with little webbing details, like his suit, with three lit candles.

Peter removed his mask and looked around at the smiles and joy in the room.

“Nope,” he said softly, a smile spreading across his face. “I have everything I could ever wish for—right here.”

Aunt May smiled, placing the cake in front of him. Everyone held their breath.

Peter looked around, then at his cake, thinking, Man… my life is awesome.

Foosh! He blew out the candles. The room erupted into cheers.

And nothing—nothing—could ruin that.

Chapter Text

“The coordinates are already set and ready to go,” Amadeus explained, his tone clipped and clinical as he typed the final lines of code into the console.

He turned to glance at the group behind him with a detached, unreadable expression. “You remember the plan?”

Ava nodded on behalf of the team. She refused to call them her team—no matter what Fury had said when he assigned them to her. They all knew the truth. They weren’t Ava’s team. They were Peter’s.

Every one of them looked worse for wear. Ava’s expression was stone-cold, yet there were undeniable dark bags under her green eyes—red and puffy from the days she’d spent crying before throwing herself into relentless work.

Danny’s cheeks were slightly hollow, his fists faintly scabbed from pounding them against training dummies until they bled. Luke looked mostly the same, but those with keen eyes could see the new chips in his fingernails—a nervous tick he’d recently developed. Turns out indestructible skin didn’t apply to nails.

Sam’s state was the hardest to read. The Nova Corps helmet covered most of his face, and they all suspected that was intentional—to hide how broken he really was.

Amadeus himself was no different. Ever since Peter’s death, he’d been working himself to the bone, clinging to the faintest silver lining that maybe, just maybe, his friend could still be saved from his grim fate. His eyes were sunken, his hair matted, and his hands were littered with shallow cuts from endless tinkering—none of which had been given time to heal.

He let out a small sigh and turned to his workbench, grabbing the special communicators he’d built himself—ones far safer than the standard SHIELD issue. It had been a rough few months hiding this project from a global espionage agency right under its own nose. They all knew Fury would never approve of what they were attempting. But they didn’t care. They just needed to be smart.

Ben had suggested using one of Doc Ock’s old labs hidden in the sewers. There was a reason the man had managed to avoid capture for so long while working under Norman Osborn. Ben had called it karmic irony—the same place that had once birthed a monster might now be used to save his brother.

“Remember,” Amadeus said as he handed out the communicators, “you can’t interact with your past selves, and you can’t tell Peter the truth. It’s get in, get out, only. The longer you stay in the past, the higher the risk of breaking the entire timestream.”

“We know what we’re doing, kid. It’s not our first rodeo,” Sam snarked, snatching the comm from his hand.

“But it’ll be the first without Spider…” Luke grunted, eyes falling to the floor.

A heavy silence filled the room. Or maybe it was always there—just heavier now.

“I still expect him to show up, you know,” Ava admitted softly. “Like he’s just gonna swing by any second and crack one of his awful jokes.”

“Remembrance is both a blessing and a curse,” Danny murmured, voice calm but aching. “It’s natural for the heart to crave what it’s lost.”

“We’re losing daylight,” Sam snapped, turning toward the machine’s platform. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Through a sideways glance, the others noticed a single tear trail down his cheek before he wiped it away beneath the helmet.

They stepped onto the platform—Amadeus’s greatest creation. Months of lying, stealing, and sleepless nights had led to this: a machine the size of a small shed, just large enough to carry a handful of people. Capable of bending the timestream itself and transporting them to a precise point in history.

In other words: a time machine.

Ava, Danny, Sam, and Luke had volunteered for the first shift. This was only meant to be a test run, to see if it could work at all. Amadeus had warned them there was a 46.15% chance they could die in the process.

None of them cared.

At least if they died, they’d finally be out of their misery—and maybe, just maybe, see Peter again.

“Ready?” Amadeus asked.

Four nods.

He nodded back. “Good. The others will join you once you’ve made first contact.”

He hesitated. Then, quietly: “Good luck.”

No one replied. He hadn’t expected them to.

Amadeus turned back to the console and began typing a new string of encrypted commands—so advanced and deeply layered with firewalls that not even the Swarm could crack it. The final password?

P-E-T-E-R.

The activation button flashed red—ready. Amadeus exhaled, eyes closing briefly. He tried to picture Peter’s grin, his voice, his reason for all of this. When he opened his eyes again, they were cold with resolve. He slammed the button.

The machine roared to life. It worked! But—

Something was wrong.

“ERROR!” the female AI blared. “External breach detected!”

“What?!” Amadeus shouted, eyes widening. “How could—”

“Cho!” A familiar, synthesized voice barked through the holographic monitor. “Cease what you’re doing immediately!”

“Fury?!” Amadeus cried.

“Cho, what’s happening?!” Ava’s voice echoed from within the machine, muffled by the thick walls of glowing blue aether as she and the others began to vanish into the timestream.

Amadeus didn’t answer. He was typing furiously, sweat dripping down his brow. If he couldn’t guide them to their destination, the least he could do was keep them from ending up in the Jurassic era.

“Give it up, son,” Fury’s voice came again—still firm, but softer than usual. “I know you all miss him. But this isn’t what he would’ve wanted.”

Amadeus froze for a heartbeat, then glared at the screen, tears burning behind his eyes.

“You don’t get to tell that to us after you let him die.” He hissed. His voice cracked, the words dissolving into a growl as hot tears streamed down his face. He pounded new commands into the console, fingers trembling.

“Cho!! Dammit! Don’t do this—you don’t know what you’re tampering with!”

“Cho?!” Ava called again, her figure almost completely swallowed by the blue light.

“Remember the plan!” Amadeus shouted. “No matter what happens, stick to it. Save Peter—at any cost! That’s all that matters!”

Ava gasped but nodded, eyes shining. Danny gave a small, steady nod in return—a silent promise. Luke clenched his fists, jaw tight. And Sam? Sam already looked ready to kill anyone who stood in their way.

Amadeus slammed the red button again.

A blinding flash filled the lab—white, hot, consuming. And then—

Nothing.

Chapter Text

Lunch time was a blessing.

Though, not always. Sometimes lunch time was a battlefield—one where Peter had to tiptoe around to make sure Flash and his buddies, or anyone else, didn’t try to unexpectedly launch a football, a paper ball, or extend a leg to make him trip and dump his cafeteria food all over himself. Nothing was worse than hearing the whole cafeteria burst into laughter at his expense—lunch lady included.

But today, Flash seemed too self-absorbed in the upcoming football season, surrounded by teammates pumping him up. Everyone else was too busy complaining about the food, an upcoming test, or whatever latest high school drama to pay attention to Puny Parker. For once, Peter made it to his usual table in one piece.

“Peter!” MJ greeted, lifting her gaze from her phone. Harry, sitting beside her, gave him a warm smile.

Peter grinned. He was so grateful for his friends. The group was small, sure, but it was good. If it weren’t for the two of them, life at Midtown High would be a thousand times worse.

MJ had been his best friend since childhood—they’d grown up in the same neighborhood. She was the exact opposite of him. Where Peter was shy and awkward, MJ was extroverted and full of energy. Perks of wanting to be a journalist, he guessed.

Harry, on the other hand, had entered his life just last year, when Peter’s old bike broke down in the middle of a storm and Harry offered him a ride in his limo. His limo. That was also the day Peter met Norman Osborn himself—the Norman Osborn. The man had even told Peter he was an “exceptional young man,” and hearing that from the CEO of Oscorp—one of the biggest tech companies in the world, rivaling Stark Industries—had been like a dream come true for a young little nerdling like himself.

Every day, Peter was more than grateful to have these two gingers in his life. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dragging them down.

MJ was beautiful, fiery, and fun—always the life of the room. Peter remembered how last year, Flash Thompson himself had asked her to be his girlfriend, which would’ve made her queen of Midtown. Meanwhile, Harry was filthy rich, model-handsome, and had the kind of easygoing charm that could have the whole school eating out of his palm. Heck, he did had the whole school eating out of his palm.

Both of them could’ve effortlessly joined the popular crowd, but they stayed by his side. And that thought—sweet as it was—made Peter’s chest ache. He didn’t want them to feel like they had to stick around him. Then he’d feel guilty for even thinking that, like he was somehow ungrateful for their friendship.

He should just be grateful. Especially for Harry. How a rich, beautiful guy like that even acknowledged a dust bunny like him in his palace of existence was beyond comprehension.

“Peter?” Speaking of Harry, his smooth voice broke through Peter’s thoughts. “You okay, man? You’ve been staring at the table for a full minute.”

“Huh? Oh—yeah, sorry.” Peter sheepishly smiled and sat down across from them. Great. Even their lunches were different. MJ had a tofu salad. Harry had some fancy-looking French dessert he probably couldn’t even pronounce.

And Peter? Cafeteria mashed potatoes, sloppy joes, and “mystery meat.” Hooray.

“So, what’s up, tiger? How’s Midtown treating you today?” MJ asked, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers, smirking playfully.

“Not bad. Flash hasn’t bothered me yet—he’s too busy peacocking for the upcoming season,” Peter replied with a grin. The three of them glanced toward the Midtown Mustangs’ table.

Flash was flexing dramatically, making grunting noises and kissing his biceps while his pack of like-minded brutes whooped and cheered.

“It’s like they’ve already won the season…” Harry muttered dryly.

“Thousands of years of human evolution—for this,” MJ sighed.

“The museum called,” Peter added. “They said a few specimens escaped from their troglodyte exhibit.”

They all laughed, and Peter’s heart swelled. That was one thing Aunt May always said he’d been blessed with—the ability to make people laugh, no matter the situation. He’d even managed to make Mr. Osborn smile once, which Harry swore was physically impossible for his dad to do. It made a warm fuzzy feeling in his tummy surge, despite how embarrassing it was.

“Besides the gorillas over there finally letting you breathe,” MJ teased, wiping a tear from her eye, “what else has happened today?”

Peter’s eyes widened behind his cork glasses as he remembered this morning’s bizarre encounter. His cheeks warmed as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was about to spill a government secret.

“Okay, get this. This morning, I met some new people—three guys and a girl I’ve never seen before.”

Harry raised an unimpressed brow. “So? We get new kids every semester, Pete. That’s nothing new.”

“It’s not just that!” Peter insisted, shaking his head. “They were gorgeous. Like, model-level gorgeous. There was this huge guy with muscles that could give Flash a run for his money, a blond guy with soulful green eyes and the chillest vibe ever, a dark-skinned guy with serious snark issues, and this Brazilian goddess.”

“Wow,” MJ teased, “sounds like someone’s a little smitten with our new arrivals.”

Peter blushed, waving his hands. “It’s not like that! They just—helped me. I was about to trip, but they caught me, helped me with my books, and even said they had my back afterwards! It was… weird.”

MJ and Harry’s expressions softened.

“It’s not weird, Peter. It’s called being a decent human being,” MJ said gently.

“She’s right,” Harry added. “You don’t have to be suspicious when people help you.”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Peter ran a hand through his messy chestnut hair, frustrated. “I’m the nerd. The geek. I’m Puny Parker. People like that don’t notice people like me. I don’t even look like them!”

“What are you talking about? You are handsome,” MJ said, matter-of-factly.

“Handsome?” Peter let out a humorless laugh. “I think you’ve got me confused with Harry. I’m not handsome, or stylish, or even average. Look at me! I’m covered in pimples, my hair looks like a dead bird’s nest on a good day, and I’m stuck with these stupid round glasses. The only reason people like that talk to me is to shove me in a locker or make me do their homework. Nothing more.”

MJ reached out to squeeze his hand, but Peter flinched away, shame flooding his chest.

Great. Way to ruin lunch, Parker.

All he’d wanted was a normal, nice lunch with his friends—his only friends. And now he’d just made everything weird. He blinked quickly, hoping he wasn’t about to cry. That would make everything a hundred times worse.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember the breathing exercises Aunt May had taught him—especially after Flash had “accidentally” broken his inhaler last month. Slowly, he steadied himself.

“And anyway,” he murmured, staring at his tray, “I’ll probably never see them again.”

If MJ and Harry were still frowning, he didn’t notice. He was too busy drowning his sorrows in cafeteria sludge. MJ opened her mouth, about to say something when—

“Is this seat taken?”

Peter froze mid-spoonful. The sloppy joe plopped right off his spoon and onto his shirt, staining it further—but he barely noticed. That voice. That slightly accented, unmistakably familiar voice.

The entire cafeteria fell silent. MJ’s mouth dropped open. Harry’s eyes widened like dinner plates. Even Flash had stopped mid-flex to stare.

Peter swallowed hard. No way.

Before his eyes stood the four new students from that morning, each carrying a lunch tray—and each wearing those same strange, knowing smiles. All of them were looking right at him.

“Hi~”

Chapter Text

“You’re choice, Spider-Man~” Wolf-Spider purred, his voice low and venomous as he held Aunt May by the throat. One of his sharp spider-like pincers hovered inches from her neck. “Your life — for hers.”

How did this happen? Spider-Man Day had been going so well. They’d blown out candles, opened presents, taken pictures — everything had been perfect.

It truly seemed like nothing could go wrong. But just as the group gathered for a photo — Peter at the center, grinning brightly and flashing a double thumbs-up — his Spider-Sense suddenly went off.

“AHHHHH!!!” Peter screamed, clutching his head as pain shot through him. His legs gave out.

“Peter?!” MJ cried, catching him before he hit the ground. “What’s wrong?!”

Peter couldn’t respond. His body twitched violently, his hands gripping his skull so tightly that his nails dug into his scalp until blood welled between his fingers.

His friends panicked around him, voices overlapping — confusion, fear, desperation. Ben stepped forward to carry him to the med bay when the doors slid open with a hiss. Nick Fury strode in, flanked by a squad of armed SHIELD troopers.

“You kids need to get away from Parker — now!” he barked.

“Nick, what’s happening to him?! What’s happening to my boy?!” May cried, staring in horror at her nephew convulsing on the floor.

“SHIELD just detected a spike in interdimensional travel,” Fury explained grimly. “And Madame Web contacted me. Something that should’ve stayed buried is coming here.”

“Wait — if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be feeling pain too?” Miles asked worriedly, glancing at the other Web Warriors.

Fury shook his head. “No. Madame Web says Parker’s the center of the Web of Life and Destiny. He’s more susceptible to changes in the Web than any of you.” He hesitated before adding, “And even if that weren’t true, the thing coming through… it’s specifically targeting—”

Before he could finish, a violet rift ripped through the air, sending out a shockwave that blasted everyone backward. And, considering how they were made of reinforced steel, it definitely hurt.

If one looked closer, the rift didn’t just open — it tore. Like a jagged wound in reality itself.

A dark, echoing chuckle filled the room as a pair of hands gripped the cracked edges of the rift. Four grotesque spider limbs emerged next, pulling a figure out from the distortion.

“Spider-Man~” the dark voice sang, dripping with mock affection. “Did you miss me?”

Peter’s pain eased just enough for him to look up — and his blood ran cold.

“Wolf-Spider…” he whispered.

“Ah, you remember my name. How touching,” Wolf-Spider cooed, tilting his head with a twisted grin.

The others were recovering, confusion and dread on their faces. The newcomer looked exactly like Peter — but pale as death, with darker hair, red eyes, and a smile that seemed carved from madness. The sight alone sent chills down their spines, as they could’ve never pictured their dear and sweet friend with such a twisted and cruel smirk.

“Peter? Evil?” Ava breathed. It sounded impossible. The idea of Peter Parker becoming a villain was like saying the sky was down and the ground was up — unthinkable.

“I know! He’s not supposed to exist!” Miles cried. “He exploded! We defeated him with help from other Spider-Men—!”

Wolf-Spider’s grin faltered. Snarling, he lashed out with a spider leg, grabbing Miles by the throat and slamming him into the wall.

“Yes, yes, thank you for the recap, Miles,” he sneered. “I’ll make sure your death is quicker than your counterpart’s for that.”

He turned back to Peter, who struggled to his feet despite the lingering pain. “Now… where were we?”

“I don’t know how you came back, Wolfie,” Peter said, breathless but defiant. “But it’s not going to work. Madame Web and Doctor Strange hid the Siege Perilous where you’ll never find it.”

Wolf-Spider’s laughter filled the room — sharp, distorted, wrong. Peter’s laughter was warm, like a bell. This was jagged glass scraping against stone.

“You fool,” Wolf-Spider hissed. “I’m not after that trinket anymore. I’m not even after the other Spider-Men. I’m after you.”

“I’m flattered,” Peter muttered, clutching his head as his Spider-Sense screamed again. Not now…

Wolf-Spider pointed at him with one claw and one finger. “You ruined everything. My plan was perfect. I could’ve been the only Spider-Man — the most powerful variant in the multiverse. But fate had other plans, didn’t it? Peter Parker always wins. Noble, self-sacrificing Peter Parker.” His grin widened. “So why waste energy on the rest when the most important Spider is right here?”

“You’ll have to get through us first, ugly!” Sam shouted, blasting Wolf-Spider in the face.

“No one’s taking Pete while we’re still breathing!” Luke yelled, hurling a table.

Chaos erupted. The young heroes rushed Wolf-Spider while others tried to drag Peter to safety.

“C’mon, dweeb, let’s move!” Ben grunted, throwing one of Peter’s arms over his shoulder.

“No! You don’t understand! He’ll kill you!” Peter struggled weakly, Spider-Sense blaring like an alarm.

“Everyone, stop!” Fury roared, but his voice was drowned out by the clash of energy blasts and spider-limbs.

Wolf Spider, chuckling darkly, breezed through the attacks as if performing a twisted dance.

“You little idealistic morons. Have you forgotten I’m Peter too?” He taunted, dodging one of Dagger’s light daggers and Ka-Zar’s tackle with effortless graceful, “I have all his agility and his Spider Sense. Your pathetic attacks mean nothing to me!”

“Heads up, then!” Agent Venom shouted, kicking Wolf-Spider hard from behind, sending him crashing to the floor. “Venom was made from Pete’s DNA. Makes me immune to his Spider-Sense — looks like yours too!”

Wolf-Spider chuckled darkly as he rose on his limbs. “Eugene Thompson. Is it truly you? You actually became a hero in this universe? How precious. In mine, you were a brainless bully. Oh, the joy I felt making you pay for everything you did to me.”

“Enough!” A voice rang out — firm, trembling with fury.

All eyes turned. Aunt May stood tall, her face set in unshakable resolve.

“Peter… I know you, sweetheart. I know you’re still a good boy underneath all the rage.” She spoke softly, “Please, let us help. Let me help.”

Wolf Spider was silent, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the woman before him. Then he spoke, voice like ice.

“You want to know what my Aunt May was like?” He asked, eyes narrowing, “I’ll tell you. A child molestor. Every single moment of every single day, there wouldn’t be a time where she wouldn’t put her dirty old hands on me. She touched me, made me do all sorts of disgusting things and then claimed she loved me.”

May gasped, and it made everyone’s have a look of horror. Even Peter’s eyes were wide, as he could never imagine his beloved aunt doing something so inhuman.

Wolf-Spider’s lips curled in disgust, “And Uncle Ben? That old fool was a coward. He knew perfectly well what his wench of a wife was doing to me, yet he choose not to do a single damn thing about it. He was too afraid of what the consequences would bring, was too afraid of losing his perfect little family. So he kept quiet.. And he forced me to stay as silent as him.”

By this time, May broke down crying. She hid her face behind her hands, sobbing quietly, all while Wolf Spider stared at her impassively.

His voice cracked, rage bubbling under every word. “That’s why I felt no remorse when I killed them both! I swore I’d never be a victim again! Anyone who ever stood in my way would experience all the suffering I ever had and more!”

He seized Aunt May by the throat.

“NO!” Peter shouted, breaking free from Ben and MJ’s grip.

“Time to make a choice, Parker,” Wolf-Spider hissed. “Your life — or hers.”

Peter’s chest heaved. His eyes darted from his aunt to his friends, to the wrecked decorations and ruined cake. The party that was meant to celebrate him — destroyed by him.

And now, she was paying the price.

The choice was obvious.

“I’m yours,” Peter whispered.

“Peter!” his friends screamed, but Wolf-Spider tightened his grip on May’s throat.

“Anyone interferes,” he warned, “and she dies.”

Peter raised a hand to stop them. “Do what he says…”

“Peter, no! We can find another way!” Amadeus pleaded from within his armor.

Peter shook his head. “He has my aunt, Cho. I can’t risk it.”

They didn’t want to. God, they seriously didn’t want to. But they knew Peter was right, and they could never go against what he said.

Something that made Wolf Spider laugh, “Oh, brave hero. You have everyone here eating out of your palm, don’t you?” He pretended to hum thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one of his pincers, “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have killed all their counterparts. It would’ve been nice to have a whole army of followers to do my bidding.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m really not that special.” Peter murmured, glancing off.

Wolf Spider smirked, “You don’t even know the power you have, do you? We’ve always been that way. But it doesn’t matter anymore more, doesn’t it?”

“Let her go,” Peter growled. “That was the deal.”

Wolf-Spider shrugged and released Aunt May. She fell like a doll, Ben rushing to catch her. Those two have always had a special bond. Peter knew she will be in good hands once he was gone.

Peter exhaled, eyes closing. Acceptance flooded through him. He knew what came next.

Wolf-Spider’s grin widened. His pincers plunged into Peter’s torso. Peter screamed — a raw, broken sound — as the others cried out in horror.

Again and again, Wolf-Spider drove the limbs through him, lifting him into the air like a grotesque trophy. Blood trailed down his arms and onto the villain’s pale skin.

Peter gasped hoarsely, blood trailing down his chin as he flabbily tried grab ahold of Wolf Spider’s spider arms. Why? Even he didn’t know.

His blood trailed down Wolf Spider’s pincers, something that caused him tremendous joy. A couple droplets fell into his grayish face, which he sadistically licked off his grinning lips— savoring the flavor.

“You… could’ve been… a hero…” he wheezed.

Wolf-Spider paused, eyes flickering — then smiled.

“I’m more than a hero,” he whispered. “I’m me.”

A gunshot rang out.

Wolf-Spider stiffened, eyes wide as a hole bloomed in his forehead. He collapsed, lifeless — and Peter fell with him.

Smoke curled from Fury’s pistol.

“Why didn’t you shoot sooner?!” Ava snapped, tears streaking her face.

“I needed an opening. Parker’s sacrifice was the perfect distraction so that thing could be eliminated, otherwise he’d still be untouchable.” Fury grunted, remaining as impassive as ever.

“But why would you gamble with Peter’s life like that?!” MJ snapped, crying beneath her symbiote suit.

“Peter!” Aunt May’s cry cut through the room.

Everyone ran to her side. They checked for a pulse, for breath, for anything.

Nothing.

His blue eyes — once so bright and full of warmth — were empty.

He was gone.

Grief filled the room like smoke. The air that once held laughter and celebration now felt heavy and still.

Some wept. Others screamed. Some stood silent, too hollow to speak.

It didn’t change anything.

Peter Parker — their heart, their center, their Spider — was gone.

Chapter Text

Amadeus numbly adjusted the reinforced shackles on his wrists.

There was little to do in the cell on the Triskelion’s maximum-security wing other than stare at the walls or the ceiling. Everything was sterile-clean and empty, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the machinery embedded in the walls.

And yet, Amadeus Cho was far from powerless. His brilliant mind had already formulated at least thirteen—no, make that fourteen—different escape plans. He’d even devised several ways to deactivate the shackles alone.

So why hadn’t he done it?

Because everything was going according to plan.

BAMM!!

Amadeus barely flinched at the sudden explosion echoing from beyond the thick prison door. A chorus of shouts and gunfire followed—then silence—before the steel door was ripped clean off its hinges by the combined effort of Scarlet Spider and Agent Venom.

“Took you long enough,” Amadeus quipped dryly as he stood, brushing invisible dust from his clothes.

“So we got a little delayed. Big deal.” Ben rolled his eyes beneath his mask, tossing the twisted door aside with a metallic clang.

Miles stepped forward and, with a sharp tug of his enhanced spider strength, snapped the shackles from Amadeus’s wrists. The younger teen winced, rubbing at the raw, red marks left behind.

“Got you something, dude.” Miles grinned, slipping off the red backpack he’d been carrying and tossing it to him.

“Thanks.” Amadeus caught it neatly, his voice brisk but genuine. He slung the backpack on and pressed the activation node. The metallic plates of the Iron Spider suit unfolded smoothly over his body in a cascade of red and gold.

“So, how’s the plan going?” Mary Jane called over the blaring alarms as they sprinted down the corridor, crimson lights strobing wildly against their faces.

Amadeus exhaled, the sound carrying through his suit’s voice modulator as a faint digital sigh. “Not good. We’ve hit a delay.”

“Delay how?” Ben’s mask lenses narrowed skeptically.

Before Amadeus could respond, the corridor flooded with SHIELD agents—at least two full platoons—armor-clad and armed to the teeth. Their laser sights cut through the haze, painting red dots across the floor and walls.

From the Triskelion’s speakers, Nick Fury’s voice thundered, calm but commanding:

“End of the line, kids.”

“Crap, we’re surrounded!” Agent Venom barked, his symbiote armor rippling with tension.

“Oh really, what gave you that idea?” Mary Jane shot back, her arms morphing into sinewy tendrils that coiled and flexed in anticipation.

“They’re only following orders,” Amadeus reminded the group, raising his hands as his repulsors whined to life. “Try not to hurt them… too much.”

“Yeah, now you’re sounding like the dweeb,” Ben muttered, but his stingers slid out all the same.

The Web Warriors moved in sync, forming a tight circle—backs to each other, eyes locked on the agents. Electricity crackled around Miles’s fists. Flash’s shoulder-mounted launchers slid into place with a low mechanical hiss. The air was thick with tension, every breath a countdown.

Fury’s voice returned, harder now: “I applaud you for making it this far, but this ends here. Surrender, or we’ll use lethal force.”

Amadeus’s golden eye-like visors narrowed as he met the security cameras head-on. “Maybe. But guess what, Fury? You’ll have to stop us alone. Everyone’s in on it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We’ll see about that, son,” Fury shot back, steady and unshaken. Then—

“FIRE!!”

The command cracked like thunder—and chaos answered.

Blinding muzzle flashes lit up the hallway as SHIELD agents unleashed a storm of stun rounds and electrified nets. But the Web Warriors moved before the first shot even reached them.

Amadeus barked orders through the Iron Spider’s comms, his HUD mapping every angle, every trajectory, every heartbeat in the room. His arms split into gleaming golden appendages, intercepting bullets midair with a flurry of mechanical precision. Each metallic claw deflected projectiles with mathematical perfection.

“Left flank, Ben—two seconds!” he called.

Ben didn’t need a second warning. The Scarlet Spider darted forward, faster than the eye could track, his stingers flashing in the red emergency lights. He struck with a brutal efficiency—nonlethal but undeniably ruthless. One agent went down with a paralyzing blow to the chest, another disarmed in a blur of web and motion.

Meanwhile, Mary Jane roared. Her Carnage symbiote rippled across her body like liquid fire, forming blades along her arms. She moved like a dance of shadows and blood, slicing through energy nets and tendrils of restraint foam before they could touch her teammates.

“Try not to shred them!” Miles shouted, flipping over her head and vanishing into invisibility.

“No promises!” she yelled back.

Invisible, Miles glided through the fray. His bio-electric charge crackled faintly, a shimmer of light betraying his movement just before he struck. Every zap was precise—a disabling jolt to a weapon, a stun to an exposed arm, a knockout before an agent even knew he was there.

Agent Venom brought the noise.

“Covering fire!” Flash’s symbiote armor erupted with a chorus of living weaponry—mini-guns, launchers, and tendrils morphing into cannons. Rubberized rounds slammed into the walls, creating shockwaves that knocked agents back but didn’t kill. Each hit was devastatingly controlled, his raw strength tempered by discipline learned the hard way.

“You’re welcome for the subtlety!” Flash boomed, laughing as he slammed one agent aside with the back of his armored fist.

“Subtlety’s overrated!” Ben countered, kicking off the wall and pinning another guard to the floor with webbing.

Amadeus’s voice cut through the noise again—calm, steady, commanding. “All hostiles neutralized in thirty-two seconds. Acceptable margin of error: one point three.”

He retracted the Iron Spider arms with a faint hiss of metal and glanced at the pile of unconscious agents littering the hallway. None of them were dead. Some groaned, others twitched. All were down.

“Thirty-two seconds,” Miles echoed, lowering his mask halfway and shaking his head. “You seriously timed that?”

“I time everything,” Amadeus replied, not even looking at him.

Mary Jane’s symbiote rippled and receded, revealing her face beneath the shifting crimson armor. “Okay, genius. What’s next on the plan?”

Before Amadeus could answer, a reinforced blast door at the far end of the corridor began to lower—heavy, mechanical, and fast. Fury wasn’t done.

Amadeus’s eyes narrowed behind the glowing visor. “Next,” he said, “we make sure Fury’s little containment protocols don’t catch us again.”

He raised a hand. The Iron Spider suit’s nanotech shifted, a glowing sphere forming in his palm. “Miles—EMP pulse in five seconds. Flash, cover him. MJ, Ben—contain the perimeter.”

Ben cracked his neck. “Now that’s the Amadeus I remember.”

The hum of energy built in the air, vibrating through the metal walls. Fury’s voice echoed once more through the loudspeakers, sharp and commanding:

“You’re only making it worse for yourselves, kids. Stand down now.”

Amadeus’s voice came through, cold and brilliant.

“Sorry, Director Fury… but we’ve already run the numbers.”

He fired.

The EMP pulse detonated, flooding the hallway in blinding blue light. Every camera, turret, and lock in the sector died in an instant. When the light faded, the Web Warriors were gone—vanished into the smoke and silence, leaving only fallen agents and a disabled corridor behind.

But unbeknownst to Fury, the Web Warriors had vanished right under his nose.

After blasting the EMP, they crawled into the nearest vent system and dropped down into the sewage line. It was a disgusting experience—especially for Mary Jane, who was still relatively new to the hero business—but by now, they’d all grown used to worse.

They followed a passage Ben had mapped out months earlier, back when they first conceived the plan. He knew the sewers better than anyone; they’d been his home during his first years of life. And this particular route led straight to the coast of the Triskelion’s island.

Risky in theory, yes—but with SHIELD scrambling to restore power, the team had a narrow window of opportunity. Not the first time they’d worked through one, and probably not the last.

“Over there,” Ben said, pointing toward a smaller tunnel branching off. The others followed, sloshing through ankle-deep water until they saw light ahead—both metaphorically and literally.

The sudden burst of sunlight blinded them for a moment as they crawled out through the pipeline that dumped the Triskelion’s sewage straight into the sea.

Mary Jane groaned, wrinkling her nose. “You’d think an international super-spy organization would be a little more eco-friendly.”

Miles sighed, wiping grime off his mask. “Trust me. It’s the same in every dimension.”

“Focus,” Amadeus reminded them, his voice crisp as ever. He turned toward Ben. “Is our transport ready?”

“Yeah. They promised they’d be here any minute now.” Ben squinted toward the horizon. Dusk was settling, painting the sky in deep reds and purples.

Then Miles spotted it first—a dark speck against the dimming light.

“There,” he said, pointing.

It grew larger, louder. Soon they recognized the shape: a SHIELD stealth aircraft, heading straight toward them.

But something was wrong.

The aircraft wasn’t flying—it was fighting to stay airborne. It wobbled, dipped, spun sideways, and lurched like it was in the middle of an aerial panic attack.

“LOOK OUT!”

“WE’RE GONNA CRASH!”

“OH MY GOD, THIS IS HOW WE DIE!”

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

The Web Warriors froze, watching the chaotic display with a mix of deadpan silence and secondhand embarrassment. The screams were so loud they could hear them even over the ocean wind.

Amadeus raised an eyebrow. Ben groaned and facepalmed. Mary Jane and Miles exchanged a blank, weary look. Flash—of course—burst out laughing, clutching his ribs.

“Are they… are they okay?” Miles muttered.

“Define ‘okay,’” Amadeus replied flatly.

Finally, the “stealth plane” lurched to a shaky hover beside them. The cockpit retracted, revealing the dizzy, half-traumatized faces of the New Warriors.

Dagger’s head hung forward, groaning softly. Cloak had his cape wrapped tightly around himself like a comfort blanket. Triton looked ready to bolt back into the ocean. Ka-Zar was clutching Zabu’s fur in a death grip, while the giant sabertooth cat looked far too much like a terrified housecat to protest.

Adrian was trembling and muttering something about Armageddon. Alex’s glasses were askew. Frances was ghost-pale.

Mary Jane frowned. “What happened—?”

Then she saw Squirrel Girl slumped over the controls, looking like she was seconds away from throwing up. “Oh. Never mind.”

Ben crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Okay, whose great idea was it to let Green fly the plane?”

“Hey, you said grab the vehicle and get here as fast as possible!” Harry retorted through the Patrioteer armor’s comms. Even with the faceplate down, he sounded equally traumatized. “We didn’t exactly have time for a pilot’s license check.”

“But Squirrel Girl?!” Miles exclaimed, incredulous. “She failed flying class three times!”

“This squirrel,” Doreen groaned weakly, “is not a flying one…” before her head hit the dashboard with a dull thunk.

“Never mind that,” Amadeus cut in. “We have to get to my lab before SHIELD dismantles my machine. Move!”

No one argued. They boarded the aircraft, gently removed the still-queasy Squirrel Girl from the pilot’s seat, and let Amadeus take the controls. The flight smoothed instantly.

As the stealth jet gained altitude, Ben leaned back and shot him a look. “So… what was that ‘delay’ you mentioned earlier, genius?”

“Well, good news first,” Amadeus said, eyes fixed on the instruments. “My machine worked. I managed to send Danny, Luke, Ava, and Sam to the past.”

The team let out a collective sigh of relief. But Amadeus’s tone darkened.

“Bad news? Thanks to Fury’s interference, the portal sent them too far back. My calculations suggest… before the first official Spider-Man sighting. Before the Bugle ever caught him on camera.”

Mary Jane’s eyes widened. “Then Peter would still be in Midtown—with us.”

Harry stiffened slightly beside her.

Miles frowned. “So what do we do now, Cho?”

Amadeus didn’t hesitate. “We follow the plan. We turn this mistake into an opportunity.” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “If Peter Parker is to live… then Spider-Man must never exist.”

A heavy silence settled over the cabin.

Outside, the world slipped into darkness as the stealth jet vanished into the night sky—silent, invisible, and carrying a mission that none of them could take back.

Chapter Text

They didn’t wait for Peter to squabble out an answer before sitting down—Ava and Sam flanking him while Luke and Danny took the seats beside an equally confused Harry and MJ. They started their lunch as if everything was normal, completely ignoring the bewildered gazes directed at them.

It was… weird, seeing them all so young.

Mary Jane looked almost the same, but Harry’s hair was shorter—still not at its usual curls. Yet it was Peter who looked the most different.

He looked… so small.

It’s not like Peter had ever been a giant—especially not compared to Luke—but he’d definitely filled out since then. Or maybe the spider had helped with that. They were so used to his silky chestnut hair, his clear blue eyes, the quiet confidence in his stance.

But this Peter barely seemed taller than Sam. His hair was a knotted mess, his cheekbones buried under baby fat, his face peppered with acne like a field of blooming strawberries. The clear blue eyes they knew so well were hidden behind thick, cork-shaped glasses.

Peter had told them once that he’d been a huge nerd before the bite gave him a “second puberty.” They hadn’t believed it—until now.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Sam asked a still-flabbergasted Peter, pointing at the untouched cafeteria food on his tray.

“Uh—sure…” Peter mumbled, watching as Sam didn’t wait for a response before spooning it up himself.

A few more awkward minutes stretched out, the entire cafeteria frozen in silence. The only sound was the clinking of their plastic silverware against the trays.

Then, ever the daredevil, Mary Jane finally cleared her throat and smiled politely. “Oh, where are our manners? My name’s Mary Jane Watson. Nice to meet you.”

Her cheerful introduction seemed to lighten the air—just a little. Conversations around them began to reignite, with students going back to their own business. Just like the team wanted.

Ava was the first to respond, offering a neat smile. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Ava, and these are Luke—”

“Hey,” Luke greeted coolly, proceeding to shovel mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Danny.”

“Hello,” Danny said with a serene smile.

“And Sam.”

Unlike the others, Sam didn’t even glance at the two redheads across the table. His green eyes were locked on Peter, before he finally mumbled a small, “Hi.”

He continued stealing Peter’s food afterward, and the awkward tension seemed ready to return—until Mary Jane, bless her, carried on the conversation.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet new faces. We don’t often get people sitting at our table.” She smiled warmly, then gestured to her side. “By the way, this is Harry Osborn. Though you probably already know him—he’s on the front page of every teen magazine every other week.”

“Two at most,” Harry said proudly, holding up two fingers. That earned a round of chuckles—except from Sam, who stared blankly at his lunch like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah, we’ve heard of you,” Luke nodded. “Gotta say, we were a little overwhelmed when we found out we’d be sharing hallways with Osborn Jr. himself.”

“Harry’s great,” Peter stammered out. It was probably the first thing he’d said to them all day. Everyone turned to look at him, and the attention made him blush and drop his gaze.

That made them pause.

Usually, Peter wasn’t this shy. Sure, he could get embarrassed—but he always bounced back with a joke and a grin. Now, he folded in on himself whenever someone so much as looked at him too long.

It really hit them then: this was Peter before the spider bite. Before Spider-Man. Before their Peter.

“I-I mean…” he mumbled, sinking lower into his seat, “Harry’s really down to earth. H-he doesn’t make you feel bad just because he has money. I’m sorry, did I say something weird? Forget I said anything. I’ll just, um, shut up now—”

“No! No, no, it’s okay!” Sam blurted, snapping his head up almost desperately. Peter blinked at him in surprise—MJ and Harry did too, though more confused than anything.

Ava, meanwhile, shot Sam a glare that screamed you’re blowing it.

Sam coughed into his fist and shoveled food into his mouth faster, prompting Danny to sigh and Luke to facepalm. Ava let out a strained laugh, flashing a smile that looked more painful than polite.

“Oh, don’t mind Sam! He just gets first-day jitters!” she said, slapping his shoulder a little too hard. Sam winced but didn’t retaliate.

“It’s… okay,” MJ said uncertainly. “We’ve all been there.”

More awkward silence. Great.

“…So, what made you enroll at Midtown, anyway?” This time, Peter was the one to break the ice.

They couldn’t help but smile—fond and nostalgic. Even back home, whenever things got awkward, Peter had always been the one to lift everyone’s spirits. This was no different. A little shyer, sure, but the heart was the same.

“Actually, we were hoping to reunite with a mutual friend,” Danny explained, his green eyes fixed on Peter. “We know he attends this school.”

“We also heard this place had a great science curriculum,” Ava added smoothly, turning to Peter. “Have you heard anything about the field trip to Oscorp, Pete?”

At the sound of that, Peter’s eyes widened. His shyness evaporated, replaced by pure excitement—and he didn’t even flinch at the nickname. He lit up like a kid being told he’d won a trip to the chocolate factory.

“A field trip to Oscorp?! Oh, I wish! They’ve got some of the most advanced genetic tech our generation’s ever seen! And their chemical and mechanical research is out of this world!” he squealed—literally squealed—and it was impossible not to giggle at his enthusiasm.

“Dude! Did you know about this?!” Peter turned to Harry. “How come you didn’t tell us?!”

“Uh, no?” Harry said, bewildered. “My dad hasn’t mentioned anything about public tours of the lab.” His expression soured. “Then again, my dad barely tells me anything…”

So they still had time. Time before that fateful field trip—the bite. How much time, they didn’t know. But it was enough to plan.

Their thoughts were interrupted when a shadow loomed over their table—actually three shadows, belonging to a trio of football players flanking Flash Thompson himself.

“Hey, losers,” Flash smirked. “Guess you finally found some charitable souls to sit with you, huh?”

“Leave us alone, Flash,” Mary Jane snapped, glaring daggers at him.

The jocks laughed. Flash tilted his head, his grin widening. “Aw, MJ, what a shame. You could’ve sat with the winners—but instead, here you are, at the bottom of the barrel.” He turned to Harry. “Same goes for you, Osborn. Imagine the parties we could’ve thrown at your place.”

“Thanks, but if there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s to check for quality,” Harry replied flatly.

Flash shrugged. “Suit yourself. Anyway, we didn’t come for you losers—” His gaze shifted to the newcomers. “We came for you, new blood.”

“Really?” Ava asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Exactly!” Flash spread his arms. “The Midtown Stallions are always happy to welcome new friends into the family, right guys?”

The jocks jeered in agreement, their cheerleader girlfriends giggling behind them. Flash turned to Luke. “You, big guy! Football season’s coming up, and we could use some fresh talent. You’re perfect for the job.” Then he turned to Ava. “And I heard there’s an opening on the cheer squad since Christy fell and stubbed her toe.”

“So tragic,” one of the cheerleaders cooed insincerely.

Flash’s gaze moved to Danny and Sam. “Not sure about you two, but I’m sure we can find something for you.”

“Thanks, but we’ll pass,” Ava said sweetly. Flash’s grin hardened.

“This is a one-time offer,” he warned. “You turn it down now, you don’t get another.”

“They already said no, Flash,” Peter spoke up, his voice shaky but steady. “So back off.”

The jocks all “oooh’d,” and Flash’s expression twisted.

“Look at Puny Parker, trying to grow a spine,” he sneered. Peter gulped and immediately looked away.

Flash scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Back. Off. Him. Creep,” Sam said flatly, standing up. His chair screeched loud enough to make a cheerleader yelp.

“What’d you say to me, new boy?” Flash growled.

The air in the cafeteria went tense. A few students turned to watch, sensing a fight brewing—until one of Flash’s teammates whispered something to him. Flash scowled but backed down.

“You’re lucky Coach said no fights this season,” he muttered, glaring at them all one last time. “Enjoy Loser Town, newbies. Just remember—you had your shot.”

With that, the jocks swaggered away, and the cafeteria gradually returned to its normal buzz.

The group let out a collective sigh—each for different reasons. It was surreal, seeing Flash as a jerk again, especially after all the progress he’d made as Agent Venom.

“I think I liked him better when he was covered in symbiote goop,” Luke muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Luke said quickly, sitting up straighter.

“Well, it’s official,” MJ sighed. “Welcome to Loser Town. Population: three—now seven.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Peter said softly. “That was your only shot at popularity.”

They turned toward him, their expressions softening. Sam slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, noticing how small and frail he felt compared to the version they knew. But the warmth was the same.

“It’s cool,” Sam grinned. “I hear the weather’s perfect in Loser Town.”

That earned a small, shy smile from Peter.

“Oh yeah, sunny vibes all over,” Luke said.

“I can sense a gentle breeze above us,” Danny added, ever-serious.

“California, eat your heart out,” Ava finished, and they all laughed.

Hearing Peter’s laughter—shyer and higher than they remembered—reminded them exactly why they were doing this.

For the king of Loser Town.

Chapter Text

The house was a wreck.

Every room lay in darkness—either because she’d forgotten to pay the electric bill again, or because she simply couldn’t bring herself to care about lighting it anymore. The air reeked of neglect, a sour mix of alcohol, dust, and grief. Every piece of furniture was overturned, the aftermath of her latest fit of rage—grief-fueled, directionless, and inevitable.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, May Parker poured herself another glass of wine and took a long, bitter sip.

Clothes were sprawled across the floor, unwashed and forgotten. The fridge was empty, save for a few expired condiments. The only things that filled the house now were empty bottles—wine, whiskey, and whatever else could dull the pain for a little while. It had started right after her nephew’s funeral. That day had been the last time she’d dressed up, the last time she’d smiled, and the last time anyone had seen her outside the house.

Her hair was tangled, greasy. Dark circles carved themselves under her eyes like bruises. She hadn’t slept properly since Peter’s death, and on the rare occasions she did drift off, her dreams tormented her.

Nightmares of her nephew dying again and again, each time in some new way—and she was powerless to stop it.

Sometimes, it was one of his many enemies striking the final blow. Sometimes, Ben was there beside him. Sometimes, even Richard and Mary.

Those were the worst ones. They reminded her that her whole family was truly gone.

She should move. This house had become nothing more than a graveyard of memories—every wall haunted by laughter that would never return. If only everyone else would get the memo and leave her alone.

A soft knock stirred her from her grief-induced stupor. She hadn’t really been asleep—just slumped over the counter, her forehead resting against her arms.

Groaning, May buried her face deeper, hoping whoever it was would give up. When the knocking came again, louder and more insistent, she sighed and dragged herself to her feet. She grabbed Peter’s old Little League bat from beside the door.

“Whoever’s out there,” she warned hoarsely, “you picked the wrong time to wake me up.”

But when she opened the door, her expression softened.

It was the Web Warriors—or what was left of them. None of them commented on her threat, nor her disheveled appearance. They all looked the same—if not worse.

Amadeus’ eyes were sunken, his hair unkempt, his hands covered in shallow cuts from sleepless nights spent tinkering. Mary Jane’s eyes were puffy and red, her face blotched from endless crying—sometimes alongside May herself. Flash had lost weight; his cheekbones now sharp beneath his skin. Miles looked physically fine, but his usual spark was gone, replaced by quiet gloom.

The only one she couldn’t read was Ben. His mask hid his face, but she understood why. As Peter’s clone, looking at himself in the mirror was unbearable. He knew that everyone who looked at him saw Peter—and the boy they’d lost. So, he kept the mask on, for everyone’s sake.

“Hi, May,” MJ greeted softly, her voice cracking into a faint, crooked grin. “Can we come in?”

May sighed. She’d grown to despise these visits. Half the world had come to her doorstep with condolences and pity, but it all blurred together into meaningless noise.

Still, these kids had been the closest thing Peter had to siblings. And by extension, the closest she had to children.

She lowered the bat and stepped aside. None of them said anything about the smell or the state of the house.

“Sorry about the mess,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. The hangover—or maybe exhaustion—was setting in again.

“It’s fine,” Amadeus said curtly, brushing some empty cans off the couch before sitting down.

The others followed suit, claiming whatever spaces they could. Mary Jane tried halfheartedly to tidy her seat before sitting.

“Would you kids like some water?” May offered, gesturing vaguely toward the fridge. “I… think I have some left somewhere.”

“No, thank you,” Miles mumbled, slumping into the couch with a shadow over his face.

May nodded, dragged a chair in front of them, and sat. For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was heavy—broken only by the steady tick of the wall clock Peter had given her last Christmas.

He’d said it was to remind her to always keep an eye on her past, present, and future.

Now, every tick just reminded her how long it had been since he was gone.

“I know you’re not here to check on me,” May said finally, her tone blunt. “You’d have done that weeks ago.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“Well, if it helps, we are worried about you,” Flash said carefully—but one look from her made him fall silent.

“We are worried, May,” Ben spoke up at last. His voice was gruff, raspier than usual. Even behind the mask, she could feel the weight of his grief. He’d always kept it private—away from eyes that might mistake it for weakness.

Then his voice hardened. “But we know you don’t need sympathy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” May muttered dryly.

Amadeus straightened—or tried to, before slouching again. He cleared his throat. “We’ve come up with a plan.”

“Oh?” May arched a brow.

“Yup.” Amadeus nodded, popping the “p.” “Everyone’s in on it.”

“Let me guess,” May said, her tone sharp. “That everyone includes Nicholas J. Fury?”

The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. Fury had been one of the first to offer condolences after Peter’s funeral. She’d responded with a slap.

SHIELD had tried to pay her off afterward, covering expenses “in honor of Spider-Man’s service.” She’d sent the check back. She wanted nothing to do with them. Not after everything.

Peter had done just fine without SHIELD—until they dragged him in. Maybe, if he’d stayed independent, he’d still be alive. Not reduced to another fallen “asset” in one of their reports.

But deep down, she knew better. Peter’s path had always been dangerous. He’d have found trouble, one way or another. What truly enraged her was how easily the world moved on.

“No,” Miles said firmly. “Fury’s not part of this.”

“Really? You’re keeping secrets from the guy whose entire job is finding them?” she asked flatly.

Ben leaned forward. “This one’s buried so deep, Fury couldn’t find it even if he had both eyes.”

That made her pause. They were serious.

Her eyes narrowed. “All right then. What’s your big master plan?”

The team shared a glance before MJ spoke. “Long story short… time travel.”

Time travel? It sounded ridiculous on paper. Sure, Peter has told her about his dimension-hopping adventures. In fact, Miles himself came from another dimension. But time travel?

Then again, she had a nephew who could stick to walls and shared a house with superpowered teens who held their powers from cloning experiments, alien tech/sentient organisms, magical artifacts and the like, so anything was possible now.

May blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“It sounds crazy,” Amadeus said, raising his hands. “But we’re serious. We’re going back to before Peter died. We’re going to save him.”

May laughed—a dry, humorless sound. “Oh, sure. Just that easy, huh? What about—what’s it called—the consequences or whatever?”

She still remembered Peter’s rambling about his favorite time travel movies and the consequences that brought playing with time, and the possible science behind it.

MJ sighed. “Cho says there’s a chance this timeline could be overwritten if we pull it off.”

Ben gestured around at the decaying house. “But look around you, May. Does this seem like a timeline worth keeping?”

No. It didn’t.

The house stank. Her reflection was unrecognizable. Every breath reminded her of who she’d lost.

But still…

“Do you even know if this will work?” she asked quietly.

“It’s a long shot,” Flash admitted. Then, with a faint grin, “But hey, I’m the king of long shots. Led the Midtown Stallions to three championships, didn’t I?”

That earned a few weak chuckles.

“You’re going to do this with or without my approval, aren’t you?” May asked.

Silence.

“…We thought you deserved to know before we left,” Miles said softly. Which was as good as a confession.

May sighed, then stood. “Good luck,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “Give ’em hell.”

They nodded—each of them, in their own broken way, standing a little taller. Before leaving, they helped her tidy up what they could. By the time they stepped out into the cold night, the house felt a little lighter.

“We’ll succeed, Mrs. Parker,” Amadeus said quietly. “We promise.”

“This’ll all feel like a bad dream,” MJ added.

“If it works,” Ben said grimly, “you won’t even remember this timeline.”

May nodded stiffly. “Go do what you have to do. I’ll be fine.”

They didn’t push it. They gave her soft goodbyes and disappeared into the night.

The house was cleaner now—but still dark. Still empty. Still missing one Peter Parker.

But if their plan worked… maybe, just maybe, May Parker could finally rest.