As the car drew closer to Queens, Iron Man pulled Peter aside to film a quick “alibi” video together.
Well, it was mainly to pull the wool over Aunt May’s eyes.
Peter thought about it, realized it made total sense, and recorded a clip with him.
Afterward, Iron Man informed Peter that Happy would serve as his dedicated point of contact.
If they ever needed Peter to step up, someone would reach out to him.
Just as Peter was about to get out of the car, Iron Man noticed his distracted look and picked up on what was running through the kid’s mind.
He offered a word of caution: “Remember: don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Peter looked puzzled.
“So I don’t do anything at all?” “No, no.
There’s a gray area right between those two—that’s your operational zone,” Iron Man said, not wanting to crush the kid’s enthusiasm.
Peter looked thoughtful.
“Oooh~” Did that mean he officially had permission to act?
From now on, when he took to the streets, he wouldn’t just be an ordinary vigilante—he’d be an Avenger-in-training!
As for how big that gray area actually was?
Heh, didn’t you see even Iron Man couldn’t lay out clear boundaries?
Hehehe…
Peter lost himself in daydreaming about his bright future.
Iron Man suddenly leaned over in his direction.
Expecting a warm farewell hug before leaving, Peter braced himself, only for Iron Man to simply lean past him and pop the car door open.
“I wasn’t trying to hug you.
We’re not there yet.” Peter: …
…
By the time Peter got home, Aunt May hadn’t off-work returned yet.
So he lay in bed, continuing to tinker with the web-shooters.
Honestly, if dinner weren’t right around the corner, he would’ve definitely run outside to test them in action instead of adjusting them at home.
It had to be said, the sheer functionality of these new web-shooters was incredible—he was completely hooked!
Peter could already picture how formidable he’d become once he mastered every single web-shooting combination and unlocked the tech buried inside the suit!
*Click!* Just as Peter was eagerly tinkering away with the web-shooters, his bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Aunt May walked in.
Startled, Peter’s brain spun through a million thoughts in a split second.
He quickly dropped his right arm—web-shooter attached—behind his back while pressing his left hand over his eye.
“Peter, you…” Aunt May walked in, intending to say *you’re back*, but caught sight of his awkward posture and instantly shifted her tone, “What happened to you?” “Nothing, just got into a fight with someone,” Peter uttered a lie that wasn’t entirely untrue.
He really had gotten into a fight—more than one, actually.
“Who?
Who hit you?” “Some guys.” “What ‘some guys’?
Give me names.” “Uh, Steve, Scott, Sam…
guys like that.
I don’t really know them well.” “Steve?
Steve from 12C?
The one with the buck teeth?
I did hear he was a troublemaker.
Are Scott and Sam his delinquent friends?” Aunt May turned back toward the kitchen, grabbing a towel and running some water over it.
“No, no, no, not him!” Peter jumped, shocked that Aunt May had actually matched the names to real neighbors.
He hurriedly patched up his story.
“You don’t know him.
He, uh…
he lives in Brooklyn.
Yeah, Brooklyn.” Aunt May walked back in and handed the wet towel to Peter.
“I hope you gave as good as you got.” Taking the towel, Peter immediately pressed it over his face before Aunt May could get a clear look at his lack of injuries.
“Of course!
I landed a bunch of solid punches on him, seriously!
It’s just that his friend was huge…
like, super, super huge.” Aunt May gently patted Peter’s head, abandoning her plan to inspect the wound after seeing how jumpy he looked.
“What do you want for dinner, my little tough guy?” “I’d love some Ziti!” Ziti was an Italian dish somewhat similar to baked pasta, and it happened to be one of Aunt May’s specialties.
“Let me check if we have enough ingredients in the fridge,” Aunt May turned and left the room.
“Mind closing the door for me?” *Thud.* …
After dinner, Peter went back to studying the web-shooters in his room.
It wasn’t until around ten o’clock that he finally found an opening to slip into his suit and sneak out through the window, eager to fight crime—and, of course, test out his new gear.
Yet for some reason, Queens was dead quiet tonight.
Peter swung around for hours without running into a single crime in progress.
Well, nothing happening was technically a good thing.
Though for someone bursting with excitement to test out his “new toy,” it was definitely a bit of a buzzkill.
Nearing one in the morning and seeing there was really nothing to do, Peter headed back home, peeled off the suit, and collapsed onto his bed.
‘Oh right, let me check the Web.’ Peter closed his eyes.
‘Huh?’ Beside the dim light representing Spider-Man Noir, another glowing point of light had appeared.
A surge of joy washed over Peter.
This meant he could transmigrate to another Spider-Man’s universe again, experience his life, and absorb a portion of his powers!
No time like the present.
Peter checked the time—1:13 AM.
As long as he made it back before 7:00 AM, he’d be fine.
That gave him roughly six hours of “alternate world experience time.” Keeping that firmly in mind, Peter closed his eyes and slowly extended the glowing strand of web in his consciousness toward the new point of light.
*Snap!* The moment the strand connected with the glowing node, Peter fell “asleep” just as expected.
And just as quickly, he snapped awake!
…
When his consciousness cleared once more, he found himself crouching on the ledge of a building, wearing a teal hoodie, a pair of jeans, and a crossbody backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Uh, what’s with this outfit?
Friendly neighborhood big brother?” Peter muttered under his breath.
A wave of memory fragments flooded into his mind right on cue.
Unsurprisingly, his body in this world was also named Peter Parker.
Was every Spider-Man named Peter Parker?
Or did every Peter Parker end up becoming Spider-Man?
Why was that, anyway?
Peter figured that once he experienced enough worlds, he might eventually find the answer.
He continued processing the memories.
The Peter Parker of this world was remarkably similar to him—he hadn’t possessed his spider powers for very long either, but just like him, he had built his own web-shooters and web-fluid.
However, this version was a year older, currently seventeen.
He had a girlfriend named Gwen Stacy.
Tonight, Gwen had invited Peter over to her house for dinner.
During the meal, Gwen’s father—Captain George Stacy—brought up Spider-Man, calling him a public menace.
Feeling targeted, Peter couldn’t help arguing in Spider-Man’s defense.
The argument completely ruined what should have been a nice family dinner.
Still, the night wasn’t a total loss.
When confronted by Gwen afterward, Peter chose to reveal his secret identity to clear up the misunderstanding between them.
At the same time, a remark Captain Stacy made at the dinner table struck a deep chord with Peter: “The guy wears a mask like an outlaw, and every perp he catches looks like they were cut from the exact same cloth—it’s like he’s out there settling a personal vendetta!”