"Hey Jake, how are you feeling?" Peter asked when he spotted me. His voice immediately drew the group's attention.
Luke Cage looked up from where he had his head resting on Jessica's shoulder. He disentangled himself and strode over, his dark brown eyes glinting. He pulled me into a bro hug.
"Dude, what happened to you over the weekend?" Luke asked, brushing a hand through his short, faded haircut.
I sighed. "Wasn't feeling well. Had a fever."
We rejoined the group—Peter, Harry, Ned, Eddie, Lyn, the two MJs, and Cindy. Jean waved from a little distance, and I waved back, only to spot Felicia approaching. I sighed again.
Felicia Hardy—my cousin. Our grandparents were siblings, so we hung out now and then. "Are you feeling better, Jake?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
She peeled off to join Lyn, Cindy, and the other girls, chatting about whatever it was girls always seemed to talk about. Meanwhile, Peter, Harry, Ned, and I got wrapped up in science chatter. I threw around terms I didn't even know I understood until they rolled off my tongue. It unsettled me, but I played along.
As we boarded the bus, I nodded to Danny Rand, who headed to the back. He sat next to Miles Morales—headphones slung around his neck—and Gwen, who was leaning against him. Miles gave me a small smile before slipping the headphones back on. He looked like a mix of his Spider-Verse and comic counterparts.
I slid into the seat beside Harry. Peter and Ned took the row ahead of us, their conversation picking up again. I stared out the window, the Manhattan skyline flashing by.
Peter. Ned. Harry. Luke. Danny. Miles. Eddie. Lyn. Gwen. I mentally ticked off my circle of friends. That thought, instead of comforting me, twisted my stomach tighter.
Which version of Marvel is this? Please, not the Scope-verse. I shivered at memories of its symbiotes.
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Meanwhile, in the Author's Room…
Freeze frame.
Yeah, it's me again—the narrator. Look, I was about to go full fanboy over some Tracy Scopes comics, weighing if I should crank the symbiotes up to eleven, when a blue flame wisp floats into the room. You know—the Satan kind, straight out of Blue Exorcist.
So, of course, I freak out. Because if a satanic plot device strolls into your fanfic, it's either (A) foreshadowing, or (B) Deadpool's fault. Spoiler: probably both.
When I found the source of the anomaly, I lost it. "Deadpool! That scrotum-faced son of a bitch! When he's caught for his crimes against the Noctice-verse and Rego-verse, I'll—" [static noise, screen cuts to black]