I Am the Spider-Man from Earth-42

The monitor room crackled with static.

Scorpia stood in the middle of it all screens shattered, sparks flying, wires snaking across the floor like dead vines.

Behind her, a loop of footage played over and over.

Spider-Man swinging through smoke.

Blocking plasma blasts.

Crushing her creation

Landing in front of Mary Jane.

The way she looked at him.

The way he said, "I'm Spider-Man."

And then... the way she touched his arm.

"FUCK THIS!!"

Scorpia screamed, hurling a metal tablet across the lab. It shattered against the wall.

"AARGHH!!"

Her breath was ragged. She tore through the lab—punching steel panels, yanking wires, destroying her own creations.

"Nothing works!" she hissed, slamming her fist into the console.

"Not Skorpion-X… Not the drones… Not the poison-seekers… He tore through them like paper!"

On a nearby cracked screen, Peter stood tall in his suit shoulder scorched, chest rising and falling slowly as Mary stared at him like he was hope itself.

Scorpia's lips twisted.

"That look…" she murmured.

"That look she gave him… that look they all gave him…"

(That's the same look she gave the other one... Gwen.)

She clenched her jaw until it ached.

Then—she saw it.

The vial.

Small. Metallic-blue.

Glowing faintly in the dim light beneath shattered glass.

Her eyes narrowed.

She walked toward it, boots crunching over broken tech.

Lifted the vial slowly.

Inside—the serum.

The one they swore they'd never use.

A prototype for the Viper Ascension Drug.

An unstable formula meant to push the mind and body beyond natural limits.

A power enhancer…

With an unknown cost.

Scorpia stared at it in the flickering light.

"So… it really has to be like this."

She turned to the wall a mural of blueprints, targets, and data readouts of all Sinister 6 assets.

Spider-Man image was now dead center.

Crossed out. Marked: THREAT LEVEL: ASCENDING.

Scorpia's voice dropped into a whisper.

"Fine, Spider-Man."

"You're strong. You've defeated all of my creations. But…"

She popped the cap of the vial.

The liquid shimmered viscous, volatile, alive.

"…let's see if you can handle the real me."

She drove the needle into her neck.

SSHHHHHHKK!!

Her eyes snapped open wide.

Her back arched as her veins lit up with neon blue.

Screams echoed through the lab.

Machinery exploded around her as the ground trembled.

Metal arms burst from her back sleeker, deadlier.

Her bones cracked and reformed beneath the skin. Her voice deepened, twisted.

Her scream turned into a growl.

A mechanical voice from the failing system tried to warn—

"WARNING: Subject mutation exceeding tolerance threshold. Neural sync unstable. Abort immediately."

Scorpia didn't listen.

Her eyes glowed crimson.

Her teeth sharpened.

And then… silence.

She stood.

Changed.

No longer human.

No longer scientist.

Now…

Predator.

She stepped through the broken wall of the lab, the shadows swallowing her up.

"Your move, Spider-Man."

..

Meanwhile as the sky above the rebel base was a strange kind of calm—burnt orange bleeding into dusk, the clouds heavy but unmoving. The wind carried the scent of rust and ash, but for once… no sirens, no gunfire, no alarms.

Just… peace.

Peter stood near the edge of the rooftop platform, overlooking the courtyard where the rebels had gathered. Some were cleaning weapons, others laughing, joking, patching gear. A rare sight in this war-worn world.

Yet—

THMP.

His chest pulsed.

A strange pressure. A quick tingle in the back of his skull.

Peter froze.

(Spider-Sense?)

His brow furrowed. He looked around.

Nothing.

Just Robin spinning in circles as he dramatically sparred with the teenage recruits.

"Alright, kids! You swing, I parry. You miss, I laugh. That's the law of combat, baby!"

One of the rebel kids, Trey, rolled his eyes and tossed a harmless training disc at him.

Robin yelped and ducked behind Arlo.

"I was testing your reflexes! You passed, barely!"

Laughter broke out across the court.

Peter's eyes scanned the horizon again.

No drones. No movement. No red dots. Nothing.

But still…

His skin prickled.

That unshakable crawling feeling.

The one that had always saved his life before.

He murmured, low:

"...Must be nothing."

But his fists clenched.

Behind him, he heard soft footsteps.

"Pete?"

Gwen's voice.

He turned his head slightly. Her silver braid swayed in the light wind.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Peter looked down at the base again.

Robin now mock-fighting with Milo.

Harry and Mary Jane leaning on a railing, speaking quietly, Mary laughing softly at something Harry said.

So much pain… but right now?

Peace.

Peter exhaled.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

"It's just that…"

He paused.

"…It's peaceful."

Gwen didn't smile.

She looked out too.

"…And that's what worries you, doesn't it?"

Peter didn't answer.

But his Spider-Sense didn't fade.

It pulsed again.

Soft. Subtle.

Like the heartbeat of something ancient… and angry…

…watching.

…

Inside a dim tactical room beneath the rebel base, the lights flickered faintly over cracked monitors and scattered maps. Faint static buzzed from a radio in the corner. The mood was heavy the calm before the storm.

Nick Fury stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed, eye narrowed at the largest holographic map. Several red sectors blinked Greenwich, Downtown, the Hollow Zones.

Frank Castle (The Punisher) stepped in with slow, heavy boots. A bulletproof vest strapped tight over a gray tactical shirt. His face unreadable as always.

Nick said, "Frank."

Frank grunted, "Nick."

There was a moment of silence. They didn't need pleasantries.

Frank asked, "How's the searching squad? Any info about Octavius?"

Nick didn't look away from the map.

"Nothing," he muttered. "In the Greenwich District, there's jack shit. Empty labs. Burned tech. Cold trails. I don't know where the fuck that octopus is hiding."

Frank walked to the map and jabbed a gloved finger at a blinking red zone.

"Tsk… That bastard managed to hide again."

His voice was like gravel ground under steel.

"Every time we think he's cornered, he slips through. Like a ghost with metal arms."

Nick finally turned.

"He's not just hiding anymore."

"He's watching. Waiting. You feel it too, right?"

Frank's jaw tightened.

"…Yeah."

Nick leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"And that Spider-Man? The kid?"

Frank raised a brow.

"Peter Parker."

Nick gave him a look.

"You believe it's really him huh?"

Frank looked away for a moment. Thoughtful. Then nodded.

"Don't know. Doesn't matter. What I know is—he fights like Peter. Risks his life like Peter. And those kids? They're starting to believe again."

Nick Fury sighed.

"…Then let's just pray he's enough against those bastards."

Frank turned toward the exit.

"Prayers won't stop Octavius."

"Bullets. Webs. Blood. That's how this ends."

Nick looked back at the blinking zones.

"Then let's hope Spider-Man's ready for war."

…

As minutes goes by, the city below glowed in fractured orange. The skyline was littered with blackened towers and gutted skyscrapers, but tonight… it was strangely still. Only the soft hum of distant generators and the crackle of power lines whispered through the wind.

On the rooftop of the rebel base, Peter, Harry, Mary, and Gwen sat in a loose circle tired but grounded. A small portable heater crackled between them, casting flickers of warmth across their worn-out faces.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Peter with hesitation.

"Um… Pete," he began, voice soft.

"You said that… your powers? You got them after you woke up?"

Peter nodded slowly, stretching out his legs, eyes watching the horizon.

"Yeah. Weird, right?" he replied with a faint smile.

"I don't know how… I just remember dying. And then… nothing. I woke up in a ruined city with these powers. No answers. Just instincts."

There was a pause.

Mary glanced down, her hands clasped around her knees.

Harry looked at Peter earnestly.

"Well… I trust you."

Peter's chest tightened for a moment.

(Even if it's hard to believe… they still believe in me.)

Gwen let out a soft exhale.

"Can we… not talk about all that?"

Everyone turned to her.

"I mean," she continued, her voice lighter but tired, "we should just… enjoy this. Just for tonight. No past. No multiverse. No robots. No Skorpia. Just… now."

Harry blinked.

"Right. Sorry about that."

A moment of silence passed between them comfortable, if fragile.

Peter leaned back on his elbows.

"…You ever think about what it's like when this is all over?"

Mary gave a small laugh.

"You mean if we win?"

Peter nodded. 

Gwen looked up at the stars faint as they were through the smog.

"I want to go somewhere green again. No machines. No steel towers. Just sky."

Harry smiled softly.

"I told Mary, if we ever get out of this, we'd find a quiet town. Grow old, I guess."

Peter chuckled.

"You? Old?"

Harry smirked.

"Hey, I age gracefully."

Mary rolled her eyes.

"You tripped over your own rifle yesterday."

They laughed. Genuinely.

And in that fleeting moment, the war didn't exist.

Just old friends, scars and all, trying to remember what peace felt like.

Peter looked at each of them. His heart ached but not from pain.

From hope.

Peter thought,

("Whatever happens… I'll protect this. Even if I'm not the Peter they remember—I'll fight like I am.")

Just then, a low rumble trembled through the metal beneath their feet.

They all fell silent.

Gwen sat up.

"…Please tell me that was just thunder."

Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Spider-sense…"

Harry stood quickly.

"We need to get inside. Now."

The quiet moment was over.

War was returning.

To be continue