That single sentence shattered the illusion Peter had been hiding behind for weeks.
It cut through every excuse.
Every justification.
Every carefully constructed lie he had told himself.
The truth was simple.
Brutally simple.
The reason this world’s Peter Parker had put on the mask wasn’t heroism.
It wasn’t justice.
It wasn’t responsibility.
It was revenge.
Pure and simple.
Uncle Ben Parker had died.
Murdered.
A robber with a star-shaped mark on his wrist had pulled the trigger and vanished into the darkness of New York City.
The police never found him.
The case remained unsolved.
And Peter couldn’t accept that.
So he did what any grieving teenager blessed—or cursed—with extraordinary powers might do.
He decided to hunt the killer himself.
That decision had led to everything that followed.
The mask.
The web-swinging.
The late-night patrols.
The fights.
The reckless confrontations.
Looking back, Peter wasn’t even sure he deserved the title Spider-Man.
Not yet.
Because everything he’d done had been motivated by personal vengeance.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Then came dinner at the Stacy household.
A conversation.
A few words from Captain George Stacy.
And suddenly, Peter felt as though someone had grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken him awake.
Uncle Ben’s voice echoed in his memory.
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
The words struck harder than any punch.
Harder than any bullet.
Harder than the unbearable grief that still lingered in his heart.
Responsibility.
Not revenge.
Responsibility.
The distinction seemed obvious now.
Painfully obvious.
Peter had spent so much time chasing the man who killed Uncle Ben that he’d forgotten why Uncle Ben had raised him the way he did.
He’d forgotten the lesson.
And now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
So he left the Stacy residence.
Walked through the city.
Thought.
Questioned.
Reflected.
And finally arrived at a decision.
A decision so absurd that even he almost laughed at himself.
He was going to help Captain George Stacy.
The same man who considered Spider-Man a dangerous vigilante.
The same man who openly wanted to arrest him.
The same man who might forbid Gwen Stacy from ever speaking to Peter Parker again if he learned the truth.
Yet Peter still wanted to prove something.
Not through words.
Through actions.
During dinner, Captain Stacy had told him about an operation ruined by Spider-Man’s interference.
A simple car thief Peter had proudly stopped had actually been part of a much larger investigation.
Months of planning had been destroyed because Peter rushed in without understanding the situation.
For the first time, Peter had truly understood why Captain Stacy disliked Spider-Man.
It wasn’t personal.
It was professional.
And if Peter wanted to change that opinion, he’d have to earn it.
Tonight.
That was the plan.
Or perhaps “plan” was too generous.
It was more of a desperate attempt at public relations.
Still.
It was something.
Then another Peter took control.
A different Peter.
One from another world.
After receiving the original Peter’s memories, his first thought was completely different.
“Seriously?
This world’s Uncle Ben died too?”
His eyes widened.
“Please don’t tell me Norman Osborn was involved again.”
That would be ridiculous.
There had to be a universal law somewhere stating that Norman Osborn wasn’t allowed to ruin Peter Parker’s life across multiple dimensions.
Quickly searching through fragmented memories, he found the answer.
No.
Norman Osborn wasn’t responsible.
In fact, the relationship here was surprisingly close.
Norman Osborn had once worked alongside Peter’s parents.
They had known each other professionally.
Meanwhile, Harry Osborn had been Peter’s childhood best friend.
The two boys had been inseparable before life pulled them onto different paths.
Harry eventually transferred into Norman’s elite private academy.
Peter remained in public school.
Years passed.
The friendship faded.
But there was no connection to Uncle Ben’s death.
Peter released a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness.”
For a moment, he’d genuinely considered returning home and asking Aunt May whether she’d ever dated a man named Ben Parker in his own universe.
Thankfully, reality hadn’t become that strange yet.
At least not today.
Peter shook his head.
“Nope.”
He slapped both cheeks.
“Focus.”
There were more pressing matters.
Like clearing Spider-Man’s reputation.
Or at least reducing the size of the target painted on his back.
He opened his backpack.
Pulled out the Spider-Man suit.
And immediately paused.
“…Okay.”
A long silence followed.
Then:
“Wow.”
This world’s Peter might have had similar experience levels, but his costume design was infinitely better.
The fabric looked professional.
The stitching was clean.
The colors were bold.
And most importantly—
That giant spider emblem.
Peter stared at it with growing envy.
Why hadn’t he thought of that?
It looked amazing.
Intimidating.
Everything his own homemade Spider-Man suit wasn’t.
Compared to this masterpiece, his original costume suddenly felt like pajamas assembled during a sleep-deprived science project.
“I’ve been outclassed.”
Peter sighed dramatically.
Then he put the suit on.
The familiar sensation wrapped around him.
Comfortable.
Lightweight.
Flexible.
Perfect.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
“Now we’re talking.”
Peter stepped onto the rooftop’s edge.
Far below, a police vehicle pulled away from the curb.
Captain George Stacy sat behind the wheel.
Apparently, he had received an emergency call during dinner and left immediately.
Peter’s eyes lit up.
Perfect.
A real case.
A real opportunity.
Time to improve Spider-Man’s image.
Or at least stop making it worse.
“Alright.”
He crouched.
“Showtime.”
And jumped.
The city exploded around him.
Wind roared past his ears.
Lights blurred beneath him.
The skyline stretched endlessly into the distance.
Peter laughed.
An uncontrollable laugh.
A free laugh.
The kind that only happened while flying through New York.
“WHOOO!”
A web shot forward.
The line tightened.
Momentum carried him across the street.
He swung higher.
Faster.
Farther.
“This is incredible!”
His voice echoed between skyscrapers.
“One hour ago I was swinging through my own universe!”
Another swing.
Another leap.
“And now I’m doing it here!”
The exhilaration was intoxicating.
For a brief moment, every problem vanished.
No alternate universes.
No dead uncles.
No angry police captains.
Just freedom.
Then he turned a corner.
And immediately regretted it.
“Oh.”
A couple occupied a shadowy alleyway.
They were extremely busy.
Very busy.
Peter arrived at precisely the wrong moment.
The man froze.
The woman froze.
Peter froze.
Three seconds passed.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Peter raised both hands.
“Okay.”
Awkward smile.
“Let’s pretend this never happened.”
The silence somehow became worse.
“I’m a professional Spider-Man.”
Still silence.
“My eyes are only on the mission.”
The man’s expression darkened.
“I definitely didn’t see anything.”
The woman folded her arms.
“I absolutely didn’t see you kissing.”
The man’s hand moved.
Peter noticed.
“Oh no.”
A gun appeared.
“Oh COME ON!”
Peter immediately kicked off the wall.
The bullet missed by several feet.
“That’s excessive!”
He fired a web.
Swinging away at maximum speed.
“People make mistakes!”
Another bullet cracked through the night.
Peter disappeared around a building.
His heart pounded.
“New York is terrifying.”
The humor quickly faded.
Reality returned.
Because underneath the jokes…
Peter was nervous.
Really nervous.
Captain Stacy already disliked Spider-Man.
One mistake tonight could make things infinitely worse.
What if he ruined another investigation?
What if he accidentally arrested the wrong person?
What if Captain Stacy somehow blamed him for an entirely unrelated crime?
Peter’s imagination began spiraling.
He pictured giant wanted posters hanging across Manhattan.
SPIDER-MAN.
PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE.
REWARD OFFERED.
His own face stared back at him.
J.
Jonah Jameson stood beside the poster laughing hysterically.
Peter shuddered.
“Nope.”
Absolutely not.
Not happening.
Then another problem entered his mind.
Gwen Stacy.
Peter groaned.
“Seriously.”
“Out of all the girls in New York…”
Another web.
Another swing.
“…you had to fall for the daughter of the one guy who wants to arrest you.”
He pointed accusingly at nobody.
“That’s not bad luck.”
Another swing.
“That’s supervillain-level bad luck.”
Yet despite the complaint…
He couldn’t blame the original Peter.
Because Gwen Stacy was amazing.
Beautiful.
Intelligent.
Kind.
Confident.
The complete package.
Long blonde hair.
Brilliant academic achievements.
A smile capable of causing cardiac arrest in teenage boys.
Peter sighed dramatically.
“Yeah.”
He understood.
Completely understood.
Meanwhile, there was Liz.
The girl Peter personally liked.
Unfortunately…
She barely knew he existed.
Life was cruel.
Suddenly—
Everything changed.
Buzz.
A violent pulse exploded through Peter’s skull.
His entire body tensed.
The world slowed.
His Spider-Sense erupted like an alarm siren.
Not a warning.
The warning.
Danger.
Immediate danger.
Extreme danger.
Peter’s pupils contracted.
Every muscle locked.
His instincts screamed.
MOVE.
NOW.
At the exact same moment—
His hand squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Click.
Silence.
Peter blinked.
“…What?”
He squeezed again.
Click.
Still nothing.
His face turned white.
“No.”
Again.
Nothing.
The Web of Destiny launcher had malfunctioned.
The realization hit harder than a truck.
Actually—
Considering what happened next—
A truck might have been preferable.
Peter was currently fifty stories above the ground.
Traveling at high speed.
Supported entirely by momentum.
And now…
He had no web.
No anchor.
No safety line.
No backup.
Gravity immediately claimed its victim.
“Oh.”
Peter began falling.
“…that’s bad.”
Wind exploded around him.
The city rotated.
Buildings spun.
Streetlights blurred together.
The ground rushed upward with horrifying speed.
Peter’s stomach attempted to escape through his throat.
His eyes widened.
His arms flailed.
“THAT’S REALLY BAD!”
The distance vanished rapidly.
Forty stories.
Thirty-five.
Thirty.
Twenty-five.
The pavement below became clearer.
Cars.
People.
Traffic.
Death.
Lots and lots of death.
Peter desperately hammered the trigger again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
His voice cracked.
“WHO DESIGNED THIS THING?!”
Twenty stories.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The ground surged toward him.
And somewhere deep inside his instincts…
His Spider-Sense suddenly screamed even louder.
Not because of the fall.
Not because of the malfunction.
But because something else was waiting below.
Something dangerous.
Something powerful.
Something that shouldn’t have been there.
Peter’s eyes snapped downward.
A massive shadow moved between the buildings.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time that night…
Peter felt genuine fear.
Because whatever was down there seemed to be waiting specifically for Spider-Man.
And he was about to land right in front of it.