Gwendolyn POV:
The Fisk Tower shimmered with glass and gold, its grand hall dressed in velvet banners adorned with the symbol of Spider-Man and glimmering chandeliers. A string quartet played soft notes that mingled with the polite laughter of New York's elite. Waiters in Spider-Man masks drifted between tables with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
"Me and Spider-Man were very close. He was like a friend to me." Kingpin boasted to the gathered guests.
"What a pig!" Gwen muttered under her breath.
"I'm right here!" Snapped Spider-Ham, deeply offended.
"Hmm." Noir's eyes narrowed under the brim of his hat. "While it may be in poor taste… we might be able to get in. But it can't be that easy."
Everyone wore a bow tie matching their aesthetic, looking like the strangest staff in catering history. Peni had disguised herself as the food cart.
"It can be that easy." I said dryly.
Peter, trailing behind in camouflage mode, didn't respond. Cold and focused, his HUD swept the room, calculating every angle, every guard, every shadow. His gaze landed on the mahogany double doors at the far end of the hall. The only way to the collider.
And then it happened.
Peter B. froze mid-step. His jaw went slack.
At one of the tables, radiant in the candlelight, sat Mary Jane.
The Mary Jane of this universe.
"Peter, don't!" hissed armored Peter.
Too late.
Peter B. was already wobbling forward with a tray in his hands. He set it down in front of her, forcing a shaky smile which was visible even under the mask. "Uh… bread?"
Mary Jane looked up, puzzled. "Oh. Thank you."
Peter B. cleared his throat nervously. "You… uh… want some more?"
She blinked. "I have bread."
"I could… I could bring you more bread. I want to fill up your life with fresh, warm bread."
Mary Jane gave a polite smile, though the topic was clearly veering into strange territory.
Peter B. lingered a moment too long, then shuffled back toward the group, deflated. Gwen shook her head and whispered, "Smooth."
Peter, eyes still sharp, muttered, "Focus. Collider's below us. One elevator."
They slipped past the velvet rope.
The Collider Chamber
The elevator doors opened with a low chime, revealing a cavernous chamber beneath Fisk Tower.
The collider pulsed at the center like a heart of fire and electricity, arcs of unstable energy ripping through the ceiling. The air itself vibrated with raw power, power that could tear universes apart.
"Okay," Peter B. muttered, "we need to shut it down before it goes beyond the point of no return."
"That's plan A." Peter said, the black of his armor shimmering under the shifting light.
"Alright. Peter and Gwendolyn will enter the Goober, send you all home, then destroy the collider. Also…" Peter B. glanced between us. "Are you guys certain your thingamajigs work?"
"Yes." Peter and I answered in perfect unison.
But then every Spider-Sense in the room tingled.
They weren't alone.
Doctor Octavius stepped into view, her tentacles unfurling with a hiss. "Well, well. Look who decided to crash the party."
The tentacles struck.
Peter B. leapt, webbing to the ceiling. Only for one claw to lash out and pin him to the wall. He grunted as cold metal pressed against his ribs.
The others scattered. Gwen vaulted over Scorpion's snapping tail. Noir ducked as Tombstone barreled past like a runaway truck. Peni's mech swung a fist, while Spider-Ham hurled himself like a cartoon missile.
Peter and I cut through armed thugs, webbing and slicing guns aside and dropping them with surgical precision.
Peter B. fought back, webs splattering against the flexible arms. But the tentacles moved like living serpents, fast and merciless. One snared his wrist. Another his ankle. They slammed him into the ground with bone-rattling force.
He groaned, pushing up on shaky arms. Only to be dragged back down.
The tentacles coiled tighter around his chest and throat, beating him into the collider's gleaming surface.
Octavius laughed, a cruel echo through the chamber. "Any last words?"
Peter B. gasped, blood on his lips. "Can I get a pen?"
The tentacle raised, ready to deliver the killing blow.
But then it froze.
With a violent twitch, the mechanical arm turned on itself, smashing into another. One by one, her own tentacles seized and writhed, slamming into their master.
"Why're you hitting yourself? Why're you hitting yourself?"
The invisible voice rang out, mocking and playful.
Octavius screamed as she was flung across the chamber, crashing into the far wall.
And then, shimmering into view, stood Miles.
Not the scared kid from before.
But Miles in his black-and-red suit.
Confident. Ready.
The new Spider-Man.
Read 41 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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