Four weeks before Peter held his daughter in his hands, the event that allowed Peter to reclaim his daughter from Mephisto's grasp took place—all thanks to the help of one of his greatest enemies. In exchange for returning his daughter, however, this foe demanded something equally important. Yet, our dear Parker doesn't regret his actions in the slightest.
FOUR WEEKS EARLIER.
Peter was swinging through the crowded streets of his city, searching for a crime to stop. He wanted to distract himself from recent events, to forget how everyone had turned their backs on him, refusing to believe his explanation about Octavius taking control of his body over the past few months—even though stranger things had happened in this world he called home.
He wanted to fill that void by living up to the responsibility his spider-powers granted him.
As he swung through the city, the call of duty came when he spotted several patrol cars and officers in defensive positions behind their vehicles outside a bank.
Spider-Man quickly slipped in through a rooftop hatch, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid alerting the robbers.
Firing a web at the first robber's mouth and yanking him up to stick him to the ceiling, the other thieves quickly noticed the wall-crawler's presence and began firing at him—unsuccessfully.
"Stay still, Spider!" one robber shouted, aiming at the hostages while the others did e same.
"Easy, guys, no need to go that far. I'll stay put—just stop pointing those at them, alright, pal?" Spider-Man's tone grew more serious beneath the mask.
The moment they lowered their guns from the hostages and fired at him, Spider-Man moved—dodging and swiftly disarming the robbers, wrapping them up in cocoons of webbing.
Once he'd restrained the thieves, he noticed a bullet wound in his leg, barely visible thanks to the red of his suit.
Despite being injured, Spider-Man approached the hostages to reassure them—only to be met with fearful stares. Deep in the eyes of those he'd saved, he saw something that truly hurt him: hatred. A deeply buried hatred.
He tried to step closer to calm them down but was met with screams for help.
"Help! Spider-Man's trying to kill us!" a woman shrieked.
"Stay away from us, you spider freak," a middle-aged man said coldly.
"Help! Quick, officers! Spider-Man's trying to kill us! Please, Spider-Man, don't do it!" The screams were so loud they echoed down the block, and the police obviously heard.
When the officers rushed in, they found Spider-Man standing before the trembling hostages. Without a second thought, they aimed their guns at him, forcing him to flee on instinct.
The cops opened fire wildly at where Spider-Man had escaped, only stopping once he was out of sight.
Spider-Man swung as far as he could, eventually reaching an abandoned workshop on the outskirts of New York.
"Those people, the robbers, the whole situation… Yep. My sense of duty kicked in again—leading me right into a trap. Set by who knows who, for who knows what." He didn't need to think hard to realize the bank robbery had been staged just to further tarnish his name.
For now, Spider-Man pushed aside thoughts of the trap and focused on closing the bullet wound in his leg to stop the bleeding, letting his healing factor do the rest.
He rummaged through the abandoned storage, finding only two scraps of white cloth on the floor and a sharp piece of metal to cauterize the wound. At the same time, he tried one last time to call the Fantastic Four for help—only for the building's AI to immediately recognize him, scold him for calling where he wasn't welcome, and hang up.
Unbeknownst to Spider-Man, just a few meters away stood a man of indeterminate age, dressed like a noble from the Middle Ages. He stood about two meters tall, with a thick white beard and hair of the same color. The strangest thing? He seemed to be staring directly at the wall-crawler—yet Spider-Man's senses detected no danger.