It was early morning, the day after photographer Peter Parker, aged twenty-six, died as Spider-Man.
Times Square, normally so loud and hectic that even the wind seemed restless, had fallen silent and solemn.
Crowds of New Yorkers had gathered there, yet no one made a sound.
More than half of them, men and women of all ages, shared one thing in common.
Each wore at least one item associated with Spider-Man.
Some wore his suit, others wore masks, gloves, or goggles…
They had all gathered with the same grief in their hearts.
They were there to hold a final memorial service for their beloved Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
Almost everyone present had only learned the name Peter Parker that day, but that did nothing to diminish the deep bond they felt with this friend they had known for less than twenty-four hours.
After all, he was the superhero who had protected New York for ten years, from the age of sixteen to twenty-six, without taking a single day off.
He was Spider-Man!
A sorrowful red-haired woman stood on the temporary stage erected in Times Square.
She was Mary Jane, Peter Parker’s widow.
“He never asked for his powers, but he chose to use them to become Spider-Man.”
“What I loved most about Peter was how he made every one of us feel powerful.
He taught me that everyone has some kind of power, the power to be Spider-Man in their own way.”
“We are all Spider-Man, and we all place our hopes in you.”
…
Her soft, somber voice echoed across Times Square.
On Spider-Man’s behalf, she bid a final farewell to the city and the people he had protected.
Among the crowd, a black teenager named Miles stood with a backpack on his shoulders and a cheap Spider-Man costume on his body.
He murmured to himself,
“They’re all placing their hopes in me…”
Miles had possessed his Spider-Man powers for less than twenty-four hours, and his heart was surging with excitement when a gruff, middle-aged voice suddenly spoke beside him.
“MJ probably wasn’t talking about you specifically.
It was more of a metaphor.”
“Oh.
Okay.
Thanks for pointing that out.”
Miles immediately deflated, though he was not angry.
The man had a point.
How could he possibly become Spider-Man?
Even with those powers, he had no idea how to use them without someone to teach him.
Wait, something was wrong.
Why did this man look so familiar?
Miles suddenly realized that something was off.
When he had caught a glimpse of the helpful white man from the corner of his eye, he had noticed that the man bore an uncanny resemblance to Peter Parker, the Spider-Man who had died the night before.
Aside from the different hair color, a few extra wrinkles, and a somewhat out-of-shape build, they looked as though they had been cast from the same mold.
“You…
You…
You!”
Miles turned toward the man, so shocked that he could barely speak.
The man was, of course, Middle-aged Peter Parker.
Guided by his Spider-Sense, Middle-aged Peter Parker had easily spotted the young black Spider hidden among the crowd.
Once he was sure Miles had seen his face, Middle-aged Peter Parker put his mask back on.
With so many people wearing Spider-Man masks, even the appearance of a real Spider-Man would not attract any attention.
“Hey, kid, relax.
Come with me.
We’ll answer all your questions.”
Middle-aged Peter Parker turned and walked away, gesturing for Miles to follow.
Miles hesitated.
He had no idea who this middle-aged man who looked so much like Spider-Man was, but some inexplicable instinct told him the man was not dangerous.
Then he remembered the promise he had made to Spider-Man the night before.
He had to destroy the Particle Collider.
At last, he took that brave first step.
The two figures, one large and one small, moved quickly through the crowd and soon disappeared from sight.
…
…
Miles followed Middle-aged Peter Parker away from the crowd and onto the rooftop of an apartment building.
Only then did he discover that several people had already gathered there.
Fortunately, Miles recognized one familiar face among them.
“I remember you, Wanda.
What are you doing here?”
The girl Miles called Wanda was a white teenager with shoulder-length blonde hair.
She was none other than Gwen Stacy, known as Ghost-Spider.
Gwen Stacy had been the first Spider-Man to cross over into this Parallel Universe, arriving about a week earlier.
However, Gwen Stacy was cautious by nature and had not acted rashly.
Instead, she had enrolled at Midtown High School as a transfer student to investigate.
She had even met Miles once the previous day.
The moment Gwen Stacy appeared at the memorial service, Peter found her and brought her to this secluded rooftop to join the other Spider-Men.
“Looks like the two of you have a misunderstanding to clear up, right, Gwen?”
Peter glanced at Gwen Stacy, then waved to Miles, who was standing a short distance away.
“Miles, come over.
We’ve all been waiting for you.”
“Okay, I really shouldn’t have used a fake name yesterday.”
Gwen Stacy raised a hand to her forehead, looking somewhat helpless.
When Gwen Stacy had met Miles the day before, she had introduced herself using the alias Wanda instead of her real name.
“Ahem.
All right, I should apologize first…”
Gwen Stacy cleared her throat and began explaining, looking slightly embarrassed.
“It all started a week ago…”
…
After Gwen’s brief explanation, Miles no longer knew what to think.
This world was way too crazy…
“You mean…
all of you are Spider-Man?”
Miles stared at the row of Spider-Men before him and almost wanted to slap himself to see whether he was dreaming.
“To be more precise, you’re a Spider-Man now too.”
Peter pointed at Miles’s right hand.
Two circular bite marks were still faintly visible on it.
Anyone who had been Spider-Man would recognize them as spider bites, the special marks signifying that each Spider-Man had been chosen by fate.
“Come on, kid.
Tell us exactly what happened last night.”
Spider-Man Noir lifted the brim of his hat and asked the question everyone wanted answered most.
With everyone watching him, Miles could not hide the nervousness and hesitation in his eyes.
However, the Spider-Sense buzzing incessantly in his mind soon helped the fledgling Spider reach a decision.
It felt much like the first time he had met Spider-Man.
These people standing before him, all claiming to be Spider-Man, seemed trustworthy.
“That night, Spider-Man saved me from Kingpin…”
As Miles recounted the events in a voice still tinged with tears, everyone present finally learned the truth behind Spider-Man’s death.