I Am the Spider-Man from Earth-42

Mary blinked, her voice trembling as she took a step forward.

"Who… are you?"

Peter stood.

Straightened his spine.

The white spider on his chest flickered. His cracked visor caught the firelight.

"I'm Spider-Man."

(I'm not your Peter. But I'll protect you like he would.)

The Control Spider emitted a high-pitched shriek.

"SPIDER-MAN DETECTED."

"ENGAGE."

Two side turrets unfolded from its body. Red-hot plasma coils spun up.

Peter muttered under his breath.

"Well… now you know me."

FWIP!

He launched forward webbing the nearest car, flinging himself around the incoming plasma bolts with inches to spare. One blast shattered the windshield behind him. Another melted through a mailbox, leaving molten slag.

Mary dove behind cover with Boppy and Bon, shielding Bon's wounded arm.

"He's… he's drawing the fire…"

Boppy muttered, breathless, eyes wide.

"He's fighting for us."

Peter landed sideways on the wall of a collapsed shop, ran across it sideways, then flipped mid-air and fired his Drone-Spider again.

"Deploying scan: armor density..."

"Analyzing..."

A small screen lit up in Peter's HUD:

WEAK POINT: UNDERSIDE CORE JOINT (PHASE 2 FLARE MODE NEEDED)

(Alright. Let's light it up then.)

He reached to his gauntlet, sliding a dial into a glowing red position.

The web-shooter hissed. Charged.

His right hand began to glow blue-white veins of energy pulsing along the knuckles.

He dove down straight at the Control Spider.

The bot's arms swung wildly, one nearly impaling him mid-air. He twisted, dodged—

And then—

SLAMMED his charged palm directly into the core joint beneath the spider's body.

CRACKKKK!

The armor dented in. Sparks flew. Fluid hissed out.

But the bot didn't fall.

It reared back, shrieking, then unleashed a 360-degree EMP burst.

Peter was thrown across the street, hitting a power pole hard.

BOOM!

His HUD glitched.

Vision scrambled.

(Nghhh—come on, suit—come on...)

But then—

Mary stood. Rifle raised.

"Boppy—light it up! Bon—cover fire!"

Boppy fired a flare to blind the bot's sensors.

Bon, despite the injury, sent a stream of lead into its legs.

Peter saw it.

(They're fighting back... just like before. Just like rebels should.)

He jumped again.

Final round.

Final strike.

He flew forward at full speed—gritted his teeth—and shouted:

"HEY, TIN CAN—YOU FORGOT SOMETHING!"

He twisted mid-air both arms firing double web shots at the broken core.

Then he yanked.

Hard.

The weakened plate ripped open exposing the core.

He hurled a plasma charge from his belt—

BOOOOOOOMM!!!

The Control Spider exploded in a wave of fire and shrapnel—legs flying in every direction.

Silence followed.

Only the hiss of the broken hydraulics… and the slow, rising cheers of the rebels behind cover.

Peter landed. Suit scorched. Breathing hard.

He turned back.

"You all okay?"

Mary, blinking, stepped forward.

"…You're really him that footage I saw."

Peter didn't respond right away.

Then nodded.

"I'm Spider-Man."

Mary's eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but something deeper.

"Who are you really?" she asked.

"Behind the mask?"

Peter hesitated.

(Okay. Say it. Just say it. Pull the damn mask off and tell her who you are—)

But before he could speak—

"MARY!! PETER!!"

A voice rang out from behind.

Peter turned his heart dropping.

(…For fuck's sake. I should've been the one to say it… now you reveal my identity—Harry!!)

From the dusted road, Harry ran up.

And right behind him: Gwen, Ganke, and Quin all breathless, weapons holstered, wide-eyed at the wreckage.

Mary slowly turned to face them.

"…Peter?" she said again, her voice now trembling.

Harry's eyes widened like he'd stepped on a landmine.

"Oh shoot."

Mary stared at him.

"What do you mean, Peter… Harry?"

The group fell quiet.

The wind blew.

Peter felt the eyes now all of them. Watching. Waiting.

He clenched his jaw beneath the mask.

(This is it. You wanted to delay it, but truth has no brakes.)

Harry stepped forward, raising his hands.

"Mary—I—I thought it would be easier if he told you himself but—yeah. It's really him."

Mary shook her head, a stunned laugh escaping her lips.

"No. No, Peter Parker is dead. We buried him. I… I put a flower on his grave. I cried for him. For months."

Her voice cracked at the end.

Gwen approached gently.

"Mary… I didn't believe it either at first. But it's him."

Mary's gaze returned to Peter.

Her voice was a whisper.

"…Say it. Please."

Peter slowly reached up.

Fingers gripped the cracked sides of the mask.

(Time to stop being Spider-Man. Just for a second. Be Peter.)

He pulled the mask off.

His face emerged sweat-matted hair, a healing scar above his brow, eyes tired but steady.

Mary gasped.

A step back.

She covered her mouth.

"Peter…?" 

He nodded once.

"Hey, MJ."

Silence.

Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them back. She stared at him like a ghost had risen.

Behind her, Boppy and Bon stood stunned.

No one dared speak.

And then—

Mary stood just a breath away from him. Her hands at her sides, knuckles white. Her eyes didn't leave his, not even once.

"Why didn't you come back?"

Her voice was low. Angry, but… hurt more than anything.

Peter felt like her words punched through the armor more than any enemy ever could.

His mouth opened slightly he wanted to answer.

To say the right thing. To tell her something real.

But the truth? He couldn't say it.

Not the whole truth.

Not yet.

Instead, he whispered—

"…It's complicated. I… wasn't able to. Not until now."

A lie. Wrapped in guilt. Worn like a second skin.

Mary's eyes glinted. She took a slow step toward him.

The world behind them faded. The ruined city, the quiet fires, the flickering lights in the sky. All of it melted away, as if the war had paused for just this moment.

It was just Peter.

And Mary.

A year of silence between them. A thousand emotions in every second.

From behind, Harry's voice gently called:

"Let's go… give them some space."

Gwen glanced at him, uncertain.

Quin's voice had a bite:

"You sure? That's the love of your life, Harry."

Harry turned to her, steady.

"I trust Peter. And I trust Mary. They wouldn't do what you're thinking, Quin…"

A pause. Then a quiet sigh.

"They're stronger than that."

Quin didn't reply. She just nodded, and followed.

They left them alone.

By the wall. By the wreckage.

Only Peter and Mary remained.

He still held the mask in his hand. One lens shattered. The fabric burned at the edges.

His fingers trembled.

Mary didn't speak. She just stared.

Not at his face.

Through it.

Like she was trying to rebuild the memory of the man she loved from the fragments standing in front of her.

Peter broke the silence.

His voice was raw. Thin.

"…I forgot most of my memories."

A pause.

"I don't know how. One day I woke up… in the dark. Alone. The world was colder. And broken. I only knew my name was Peter Parker."

(Lie.)

(But necessary.)

He couldn't say: I'm not your Peter. I'm Drake. I'm from another Earth. I took his body. And he's… gone.

Mary's eyes flickered downward.

Then up again.

"…But you still remembered me?"

Peter hesitated.

(No. Not at first. Not until his memories clawed into my mind. )

But he said:

"Yes. Always. You… Harry. Our comrades. The ones we lost. I remember it all. But after I… died, something fractured. Some memories are foggy."

Mary closed her eyes. A tear slipped out. Rolled slowly down her cheek.

Then—

"…You bastard."

Her voice cracked. A whisper. A scream trapped inside a whisper.

"You left us. You left me. You left without a word."

Peter couldn't reply.

He hadn't left.

But the one who did?

Was buried in the dust.

And he, Drake, was left to carry the heartbreak.

Mary stepped closer, voice trembling now.

"Do you know how long we waited?"

"Do you know how long I hoped it was all fake?"

Her jaw clenched. Rage burning beneath sorrow.

"You didn't even say goodbye, Peter."

Peter turned his head slightly, away from her gaze.

(Because I never got to say it. Because I'm not him.)

But his voice came out quiet. Shaky. Measured.

"…I didn't know how to face you."

"Not after what happened."

Another lie.

But it tasted close enough to the truth to pass.

Mary let out a bitter laugh.

"I hate that I'm happy right now."

"Hate that I'm crying in front of you."

She reached into her coat.

Pulled out a small, worn photo.

Three teenagers on a rooftop. Sunset behind them. Laughter frozen in time.

Peter. Mary. Harry.

Happy. Before everything fell apart.

She handed it to him.

"This was everything to me."

Peter took it gently.

His hands shook now. He stared at the photo.

And for a second, a lifetime of a stranger's memories crashed through his head like a wave.

Mary's voice was quieter now.

Searching.

"…You feel different."

"Not just the memories. It's something else. Something… deeper. You smile different."

Peter's eyes lowered.

His voice almost broke.

"…A lot can change when you die."

Her breath caught in her throat.

Then came the question. The one he feared most.

"…About the letter?"

He didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because Peter Parker had loved her.

But Drake American never had the chance.

He looked at her softly.

And whispered—

"I want you to be happy. With Harry."

Mary froze.

Not from heartbreak.

But realization.

The truth hit her not in words, but in silence.

The way his voice felt a beat off.

The way his eyes didn't glint the same way they used to.

The way he let her go…

Not because he stopped loving her.

But because maybe that letter just a misunderstanding to her part.

Mary gave a slow nod.

Tears welled, but she didn't let them fall.

She reached out.

Touched his arm.

Just for a second.

Fingers brushing the fabric of his suit.

A ghost of a goodbye.

A farewell between a memory… and the woman who once loved him.

To be continue