A few days had passed since I went to the secret Sanctum — a strange, hidden place where reality itself felt like it could twist with every breath. The memory still lingered in my mind.
The Ancient One had asked me how I met The One Above All. Honestly, I didn't even know who that was, nor did I want to get dragged into any cosmic problems.
"Peter, do you mind focusing on the class?"
The sharp voice of Ms. Harold snapped me out of my thoughts. I blinked back to the present.
I was sitting in the middle of her lecture, daydreaming again. A piece of chalk flew straight toward my face — but too bad, my reflexes were faster. I caught it between my fingers before it could hit me.
A few of the students gasped quietly, and I could hear someone whisper, "Nice catch."
"Less action, more focus, Parker," Ms. Harold said sternly, hands on her hips.
"Sorry, Ms. Harold," I replied, setting the chalk back on her desk with a small grin.
Still, my mind wouldn't stay still. Questions kept racing through it like an endless loop.
Why me?
Why was I the one reborn?
Could there be others like me out there?
Could this somehow be connected to me changing reality or fate itself?
I didn't know. I was all tangled up in this multiversal madness.
At the corner of my eye, I noticed Gwen looking at me with a worried expression. She could tell something was off. I smiled faintly, pretending everything was fine.
That's what being a superhero feels like sometimes — holding it all together, even when you're falling apart inside.
Well… that's the job, right? The friendly neighbourhood one.
When the school bell rang, I packed up my books and slung my bag over my shoulder. The noise of the classroom faded behind me as I stepped out into the hallway.
The sunlight spilling through the windows felt warm, grounding. I took a moment, exhaled, and called Aunt May.
I told her not to pick me up, that I wanted to walk home — to clear my mind a bit. Uncle Ben's voice suddenly chimed in over the phone, cheerful and warm as ever.
"Don't worry, Peter. Good things come to those who do good," he said.
That man never failed to make me smile.
"Peter!"
I paused mid-step and turned. Mary Jane Watson was jogging toward me, red hair swaying under the golden light. Oh yeah — I almost forgot. We're neighbours.
We fell into step together, walking down the street. The city hummed around us — cars rushing by, people chatting on their phones, kids on bikes zooming past. MJ looked at me curiously, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
"Girlfriend problems?" she asked teasingly.
"No, just… personal stuff, MJ," I replied.
"You know," she said, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, "you've been kinda avoiding me lately."
"Avoiding you?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Usually, you'd be peeking around corners or trying to talk to me. But this new you… you've got this, I don't know—gangster vibe."
Bruh.
I thought to myself. She wasn't entirely wrong. I had changed — a lot — since my rebirth.
I stopped Uncle Ben's death and changed the fate of Dr. Otto Octavius, and helped Curt Connors stay on the right path.
Norman Osborn? It's still a work in progress. And I even had the occasional online chat with Max Dillon — yeah, that Max Dillon — about his wild energy theories.
"Really?" I asked, half-smiling.
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "You've been working out too. I like that you're growing up, tiger."
Ah, yes — tiger. She's been calling me that since elementary school, back when I saved her from those bullies on the playground. It stuck.
But time has a way of changing things. Somewhere along the line, we drifted apart.
In another life — my past life — we got married, went through our differences, and eventually divorced. She even remarried… to that Paul Baker guy. Or whatever his name was.
I glanced at her as we walked. The sun dipped low behind us, painting the streets in orange and gold.
Maybe this time, things could be different. Maybe this Peter Parker could make better choices.
But fate? Fate always finds a way to remind me who I am.
"Say, MJ… can I ask you something?" I stopped in my tracks, my voice quieter now, almost uncertain.
She turned to me, the streetlight reflecting off her red hair. "Sure, Pete. What is it you wanna ask?"
I looked ahead, hands tucked into my pockets. "If you had the power to get a do-over in life… what would you do?"
She thought for a minute, her expression softening as her gaze drifted upward, eyes catching the dim glow of the evening sky.
"Redo with a little adjustment,"
she said finally.
"The world's not perfect at all. America's got that whole rainbow war thing going on — a lot of people hate it, not that I care much. Then there's the wars, the chaos, the never-ending noise. But truth is…"
She paused, then smiled faintly.
"I'd focus on my own wrongdoings — and set them straight."
"Huh? Didn't know you could answer that with a straight face," I said, smirking.
"Hey!"
She playfully punched my shoulder, giggling as she did. I chuckled under my breath, rubbing the spot dramatically.
The two of us continued walking down the block, side by side, our shadows stretching long under the fading sunset.
"But Pete,"
she said after a short silence, her tone turning serious.
"Truthfully… if I had a do-over, I'd never make the same mistake again. Even if it means being the villain in my own story."
I stopped for half a second, her words echoing in my head. That was deep — unexpectedly deep. I couldn't even respond.
I just looked at her and smiled faintly. She didn't know. She didn't know that I wasn't from this time. That I'd already lived, died, and rewritten fate itself.
And soon, this world was going to face the biggest storm in history.
"See ya tomorrow, Peter!" MJ called out as she reached her front steps.
"Yeah… see ya, MJ," I said softly, watching her open the door. She smiled back, gave a small wave, then disappeared inside. The click of the lock echoed faintly in the quiet street.
My smile faded. The calm expression I wore turned blank, emotionless, as the air around me grew colder.
"You can come out now," I said, not even turning my head. "I don't know why you're following me, or if being a stalker helps you somehow, Lady in the copycat suit."
From the darkness of an alley, a figure clawed her way out of the shadows — smooth, confident, and deliberate.
The moonlight caught the silver of her hair, the shimmer of her black suit hugging her curves, and the sly grin curving her lips.
"The way you sense things… and the way you talk," she purred, tilting her head. "Funny how you can still keep that plastered calm face."
Her voice dripped with seduction as she stepped fully into view.
I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you stalking me, Black Cat?"
Felicia Hardy — bold as ever. Whether this was payback for what happened last time, or something far more dangerous, I couldn't tell.
But I knew one thing for sure.
This night wasn't going to end quietly.
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Chapter 13 — End.