A fraction of a second after Peter’s head snapped toward the darkness, the middle-aged Peter Parker’s Spider-Sense flared to life, drawing his gaze to the exact same spot.
To an ordinary person, the millisecond delay would have been completely imperceptible.
But to a Spider-Man with hyper-tuned senses, it was as obvious as a drop of black ink splattered across a pristine sheet of white paper.
The older Peter noted the detail, a ripple of surprise echoing in his mind.
His Spider-Sense is sharper than mine?
Is it just a coincidence, or do our abilities actually vary across different parallel universes?
Looks like this multiverse situation is a lot more complicated than I thought.
Aunt May sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
Without missing a beat, she snatched up her dropped baseball bat, standing fearlessly alongside the two Peters.
What happened next, however, completely shattered everyone’s expectations—well, everyone except Peter.
Three distinct silhouettes emerged from the heavy shadows of the street corner.
The dim glow of the overhead streetlights cast down on them, revealing their bizarre appearances in full detail.
Leading the pack was a towering, imposing figure dressed in a dark trench coat and a wide-brimmed fedora.
Beneath the coat, he wore a full Spider-Man suit, complete with gloves and boots.
However, his entire aesthetic was suffocatingly grim, completely rendered in stark black and white, as if he had just stepped straight out of a vintage noir film.
But compared to the two trailing behind him, this Noir Spider-Man looked perfectly normal.
Next was a young girl, no older than fourteen, wearing a classic sailor-style school uniform and a heavy backpack.
She radiated an intense, animated energy, like a cartoon character brought to life.
While she didn’t have any obvious spider motifs on her clothes, the massive, mechanical spider-mech walking dutifully behind her was proof enough of her identity.
And finally, taking up the rear was a pig.
A literal cartoon pig, wearing a red and blue Spider-Man suit.
It was a spectacularly chaotic clash of art styles.
Yet, somehow, seeing these wildly different Spider-heroes standing side-by-side didn’t feel jarring at all.
It felt inexplicably right.
Perhaps that was simply the unique, unifying charm of the Spider-mantle.
Following a brief, stunned silence, absolute chaos erupted.
Driven by the overwhelming buzzing of their interconnected Spider-Senses, every single one of them defaulted to their most infamous shared trait: they all started talking at once.
“The name’s Peter Parker,” the black-and-white detective announced, tipping his hat.
“I’m a private eye, and I’m Spider-Man…”
“Hi!” the short-haired girl beamed, literal sparkles seeming to radiate from her expression.
“My name is Peni Parker, and my dad’s mech is called SP//dr!
I guess that translates to Spider-Man here…”
“Just call me Peter Porker,” the pig mumbled around a massive hot dog he had pulled out of absolutely nowhere.
“I’m a pig, but I’m definitely Spider-Man.
Wait, no, I’m Spider-Ham…”
Then, in perfect, chaotic unison, all three shouted: “I was bitten by a radioactive spider!”
After a few moments of deafening, overlapping introductions, the older Peter Parker stepped forward, shrugging his shoulders to take control of the room.
“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up a hand.
“Looks like we’re all Spider-Men.
Just from different universes.
And since we’re all in the same boat, I’m guessing we all have the exact same goal: figuring out a way to get back home.”
The Noir detective, Peni Parker, and Spider-Ham nodded in perfect sync.
“Agreed.”
“Great,” the older Peter said, nodding.
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the younger Peter.
“In that case, let’s share what we know.
I’ll let our little Peter take the floor.”
Peter rolled his eyes, holding up a hand to measure their practically identical heights.
“I’m not little, okay?
The word you’re looking for is younger.”
The older Peter just threw his hands up, flashing a look that clearly said kids these days just don’t get my humor.
Peter shook his head in exasperation.
He was starting to understand exactly why supervillains always flew into uncontrollable rages when fighting Spider-Man.
Their reputation as the most relentless trash-talkers in the multiverse was entirely justified.
“Getting back on track,” Peter said, his tone shifting to pure business.
He quickly briefed the newcomers on the intel he had gathered.
For the newly arrived Spider-heroes, this was massive news.
“To sum it up,” Peter concluded, “Thomas and his Alchemax corporation are the root cause of this multiversal collapse.
If we hit their facility, there’s a very high probability we can use their tech to find our way home.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing with icy resolve.
“But…”
“This universe’s Peter Parker gave his life protecting this city,” Peter said firmly.
“I refuse to let him leave behind an unfinished legacy.
So, before anyone goes home, we are going to drag Thomas kicking and screaming into the light.
We’re going to put him on trial and make sure he can never threaten this city again.”
Peter looked around the circle.
“Who’s in?”
A brief silence fell over the group.
“I’m in,” Peni Parker said softly.
“If we just went home without locking up the bad guys, I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.” Behind her, the SP//dr mech’s digital visor shifted, displaying a sad, teary-eyed emoji in solidarity.
Spider-Ham practically jumped into the air, frantically raising his hand to make sure he was counted.
The Noir detective remained silent, but the cold, merciless glint reflecting off his goggles spoke volumes.
He was a hardened, ruthless vigilante.
When it came to dealing with criminals, he preferred a loaded tommy gun over a witty monologue.
He was entirely on board.
Standing off to the side, Aunt May watched the five Spider-heroes passionately plotting their next move.
A profound sense of comfort washed over her, mixed with an unshakeable, lingering sorrow.
She realized exactly why these heroes from across the multiverse had truly come together.
They were here to seek justice for her nephew.
They refused to let Spider-Man’s death be in vain.
The mastermind had to be exposed, and the guilty had to be punished.
Seeing their unwavering determination, May made a decision.
She was going to help them.
In this universe, Aunt May seemed like a perfectly ordinary, retired elderly woman.
But beneath that gentle exterior, she held a highly classified second job.
She was Spider-Man’s tactical coordinator.
She was the one in the chair, managing the tech, the gear, and the base of operations—much like a certain billionaire bat’s loyal butler.
“Everyone, please,” Aunt May called out, clapping her hands together.
The noise in the garden instantly died down, and five masked heads snapped toward her in unison.
Aunt May offered a mysterious, knowing smile.
“Follow me.
I know a much better place for you all to hold your meeting.
It’s terribly late, and all this noise is bound to attract the wrong kind of attention.”
With a gesture for them to follow, she turned and walked back into the house.