Peter POV – Parker Residence, Night
Books everywhere. Half-open textbooks, research papers I'd begged, borrowed or brute-forced my way through, stacked in chaotic towers around my desk. Principles of Quantum Mechanics, Quantum Theories, Multiversal Probability Fields, Thermodynamics of Wormholes, Multidimensional Mathematics or whatever miniscule amount of theory of it exists. Equations scrawled so fast they were starting to slant off the page.
And none of it was enough even with the Sandevistan speeding my actions to inhuman levels, the AI chip crunching through probabilities faster than a supercomputer.
The glitches. Tiny hiccups in reality. Pens sliding off tables twice. Lights flickering in angular, colorful mosaic like patterns, too clean to be random. Nothing I could get my hands on explained it.
"This isn't physics anymore," I muttered, flipping another page. "This is neurosurgery on the multiverse with a butter knife."
From the bed, Gwen raised her head, phone in hand. "Translation: you're stuck."
"Not stuck." I corrected. "Just… out of books. Which means I need a crankier library."
"Tony?"
I snorted. "Tony would duct tape a reactor to the problem. No, I need someone crankier. Someone with spite and the intelligence to match it." I paused, then grinned. "Pack your bag, babe. We're going to San Francisco."
That's how we ended up on a seven-hour flight across the country.
Pym Residence – San Francisco
The place looked aggressively normal or as normal as Victorian style architecture could be. White siding, tidy hedges like it was trying too hard not to scream mad science bunker inside.
Before I could knock, the door opened. Hank Pym stood there, arms folded, face carved from stone.
"You're Peter Parker." Not a question.
"Guilty."
"Stark's boy wonder."
I winced. "Double guilty. But for the record, I prefer freelancer of destiny."
Behind me, Gwen groaned. "He's been practicing that one all week."
Hank's glare didn't waver. "What do you want?"
"Quantum physics. Multiversal destabilization. A chance not to watch New York and the people I care about turn into a glitchy screensaver."
His eyes narrowed. "You're after my Pym Particles. Like everyone else."
I laughed. "Yeah, no thanks. I cracked stable shifting of atomic distance last night. Not here for your shrink juice." I shoved a folder into his hands. His eyes flicked through it, widening.
"…You what?"
" Told you. I'm not after your tech. I'm after your brain. There's a difference."
"Dad, why is there a teenager at the door insulting you?" Asked a stern faced woman.
Hope van Dyne entered, sharp-eyed and curious. Her gaze swept over Gwen. "Oh. You brought company."
"Gwen Stacy." Gwen said, offering her hand.
Hope shook it, smirking. "You're braver than you look. Come in before he slams the door."
Inside the Lab
Hank's lab was a jungle of prototypes, equations glowing in CRT monitors, parts of old Ant-man suits and devices scattered like fossils. It felt less like a lab more like a Cold War bunker pretending to be functional.
I drifted toward a projection. "You're modeling brane overlaps? Nice. But you missed resonance interference. That's why your equations diverge."
Hope arched a brow. "Do you always insult people's work the second you walk in?"
"Only if they're famous. Also, when did polite suggestions become insults?" I said, grinning.
Hank muttered, but his eyes lingered, more curious than angry.
"You've got something glowing on your spine." He said suddenly, squinting.
My back stiffened. "Sandevistan. Kinetic accelerator and artificial nervous system. Sensory time-dilation device. Custom rig lets me run at 1,056 mph while the perception of time slows down 90% if I feel like it."
"Spine-mounted?" His frown deepened. "Impossible. Immune rejection alone....."
"Nanobots." I cut in. "They eat the rejection like popcorn until my body adapted to the prosthesis. Rewired my proprioception to handle the extra inputs."
His scientist mask cracked. "You performed surgery on yourself?"
Before I could answer, Gwen's voice came soft, raw: "Yeah. On the floor of his basement in a jury rigged robotic operation berth. Then he tried to hide it with a heavy metal T."
Hope glanced at Peter, surprise flickering across her face.
Gwen and Hope – Side Conversation
While Hank grilled me about tolerances, Hope leaned closer to Gwen.
"He really cut open his own back?" She asked, low.
Gwen's lips tightened. "Yeah. It scared me more than anything else. He didn't flinch. Just… decided he was going to turn himself into a machine man and did it."
Her voice wavered, then steadied. "That's Peter. He pushes himself so far it terrifies me. But he pushes me, too. Makes me believe I can do more than I thought possible."
Hope studied her carefully, then tilted her head. "That sounds… familiar. Almost like you're used to keeping up with him in the field."
Gwen froze.
Hope's smirk returned, sharper this time. "The build, the posture, the way you scan exits every time you walk into a room. You're Spider-Woman."
Gwen's eyes widened. "I...."
"Relax." Hope interrupted. "I'm not blowing your cover. Just… impressed. That suit of yours its custom made, isn't it?"
Gwen exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Peter built it. Everything I do out there? He made sure I could survive it."
Hope's expression softened. "Then you're both crazier and braver than I thought."
Back to Peter and Hank
Hank jabbed a finger at me. "Do you realize the danger you're carrying? You've strapped an experimental nervous system to your spine."
"Not experimental at all," I countered. "It's an artificial nervous system boosting electrical signals for desired effects. Runs off body heat and neural electricity. Efficient. Plus beats being a cripple."
"Cocky little—"
"Focused." I corrected. "Cocky would be me bragging about injecting nanobots to rebuild my shattered legs and mend my fried nerves. Oh wait—"
"Peter!" Gwen hissed, smacking my arm.
Hope stifled a laugh. Hank looked seconds away from strangling me but curiosity had already edged out anger.
The Glitch
Suddenly, a console sparked. Holograms warped into jagged weird techno static. A pen slid off the table twice, the same motion, replayed.
Hank cursed, hammering keys. "That's impossible. No energy surge is scheduled—"
"No." I muttered, watching violet arcs twist into impossible shapes. "Not impossible. Someone's playing god with a particle accelerator. And not in this universe."
Hope's face hardened. Gwen's hand slipped into mine, steadying me.
For one breathless moment, all of us stared at the glitching readout.
And I knew with certainty: we were standing on the edge of something far bigger than New York.
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