"Bang!"
Kingpin's massive fists came crashing down toward the injured Spider-Man. But before the blow could land, another figure in red and blue dropped in front of him, bracing the strike with ease.
This new arrival half-crouched against the impact, then straightened, holding back the hulking crime lord's strength like it was nothing.
"Phew… just in time," the newcomer quipped, his voice muffled behind the mask. "Well, technically, Malrick got here in time, and I just made the dramatic entrance."
It was another Spider-Man—this one Peter Parker from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the version played by Holland. With one hand still gripping Kingpin's fist, he used the other to casually wave.
"Sorry, big guy. Even if you don't look like the Kingpin I know, I can't let you crush this Spider-Man behind me. He's already hurt pretty badly. Shouldn't we be calling him an ambulance or something?"
Kingpin narrowed his eyes, pulling his fists back. His gaze flicked between the two Spider-Men.
"Another one," he muttered, then let out a humorless laugh. "From another Universe. I knew it. My experiment worked."
He barked a laugh, clearly pleased with himself, then turned away. With a wave of his hand, he signaled to his men.
"Handle them."
From the shadows, two figures stepped forward. One wore a sleek purple combat suit with razor-sharp gauntlets—the Prowler. The other was a pale, muscular man with a flat-top haircut—Tombstone.
They lunged at Holland's Spider-Man in perfect sync, moving like predators that had fought Spider-Man for years. Even with Holland's experience, the fight quickly turned into a frantic back-and-forth.
Malrick, however, didn't join in. He strolled past the skirmish like a man window-shopping, observing the fight casually until he reached the injured Spider-Man on the ground.
"How bad is it?" Malrick asked. "Can you still stand?"
The blond, battered Spider-Man coughed weakly and gave a lopsided grin. "Are you… another Spider-Man?"
"No. I'm not." Malrick studied him closely. "But to answer your question—thirty-four bones are broken."
The blond Spider-Man winced, then forced a smile. "Well, that means I've still got a hundred and seventy-two that are fine. Could be worse."
Even beaten and bloodied, the optimism was classic Peter Parker.
"You really are something," Malrick muttered. He pulled out his Stark-designed holographic phone, held it up, and snapped a picture.
Despite his condition, the blond Spider-Man instinctively raised two fingers in a peace sign, flashing a bright smile through the blood.
"Cheese!" he said weakly.
Malrick lowered the phone, staring at the photo—Spider-Man broken, bruised, bleeding, yet smiling like the world hadn't beaten him.
"…You're unbelievable," Malrick said, shaking his head.
The blond Peter chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, reflex. People ask for pictures all the time when I'm out. Guess I'm too used to posing."
Malrick arched a brow. "You're almost too nice for your own good. Doesn't Mary Jane complain about that?"
"Sometimes," Peter admitted with a weak laugh. "But she's still with me, isn't she?"
Malrick handed him a slim bottle filled with crystal-clear water. "Drink this. It'll help."
Peter studied the bottle, then glanced up. "What is it?"
"Something that heals."
Before Peter could drink, Holland's Spider-Man shouted from the battlefield, flipping backward to dodge Tombstone's punch. "Hey, uh, guys? Mind not having bonding time while I'm fighting for my life here?"
Prowler locked eyes with Malrick and Peter. His gauntlets gleamed as he sprang toward them, moving along the ruined walls like a predator.
"I'll deal with this one," Prowler snarled.
"Careful, Malrick!" Holland shouted. He didn't step in though—he'd seen what Kamar-Taj sorcerers could do during the battle against Thanos. If Malrick was anything like Strange, he could handle himself.
"Thanks for the warning," Malrick replied evenly.
"Warning won't save you!" Prowler hissed, his clawed gauntlet slashing toward Malrick's neck.
The injured Spider-Man's eyes widened in panic. "Watch out!"
Summoning what little strength he had left, the blond Peter staggered to his feet and tried to throw himself in front of Malrick.
"You could barely stand, but you're still willing to risk yourself for someone else?" Malrick muttered, catching him by the arm with a faint smile.
Then, without even glancing at Prowler, Malrick casually flicked his hand.
The purple-clad villain was hurled back like a ragdoll. His body shot through the ruins like a meteor, piercing wall after wall until he blasted straight into the open sky. The air friction burned his body into glowing fragments, scattering across the night like a falling star.
The battlefield fell silent.
Tombstone froze. His eyes darted between Malrick and his fallen comrade. Then, without a word, he turned and bolted.
A beam of searing red heat lanced from Malrick's eyes, striking Tombstone mid-run. The villain dropped instantly, his chest burned through.
Both Spider-Men stared in stunned silence.
Holland was the first to speak. "Uh… wow. Okay. So your magic looks… very different from Doctor Strange's. But still… pretty awesome."
The blond Peter just frowned, though his voice was calm. "Normally, I'd say handing them to the police would be better. But considering the circumstances… thank you."
"It's nothing," Malrick replied. He gently set the blond Spider-Man back down. "Drink the water I gave you."
The injured hero didn't hesitate. He popped the cap and drank.
Within seconds, his body began to knit itself back together. Bruises faded, cuts vanished, bones realigned. He stood up straight, blinking in surprise as the pain melted away.
"What—what is this stuff? That was… incredible. Feels better than chugging a cold soda on a hot day!"
Malrick simply folded his arms.
The blond Spider-Man clapped his chest in disbelief, grinning. "Your world must be amazing if you've got drinks like this!"
Even Holland's Spider-Man looked shocked. "Strange definitely doesn't have anything like that lying around."
The blond Peter chuckled. "Honestly, I feel like I could swing for days. Mary Jane is gonna be thrilled tonight—cough, I mean… anyway, I think more Spider-Men got pulled here, same as you."
Holland's Spider-Man pulled his mask off, smiling at the coincidence. "Really? Hi! I'm Peter Parker too. I've already met two other Peters before you, so you're number three."
"Nice to meet you," the blond Spider-Man said warmly. "Sorry I couldn't stop Kingpin sooner. If you're here, then the collider experiment must have pulled you in. That means…"
"That means we can use it to get back," Holland said, eyes bright.
"Exactly. We'll regroup with the others, then destroy Kingpin's collider when the time comes," the blond Peter explained.
"Good plan. We can probably track the others down with our Peter-tingle," Holland added.
"Or," the blond said thoughtfully, "we could check with Aunt May. Every Spider-Man I know… always finds Aunt May."
At the mention of her name, Holland froze. His expression went blank, the weight of memory suddenly crashing over him.
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(Tl/N: This is 'Miles Morales' spiderman universe)
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