"You guys actually know each other?" one of the Spider-Men asked, gathering closer.
Holland-Spiderman nodded. "Yeah. We've been through something like this before."
"So, you understand what happened here?" Shadow Spider-Man asked, his voice deep, his long black trench coat rustling though there was no wind.
"I do!" Holland-Spiderman raised his hand eagerly. "It's like this—"
While he launched into an explanation for the younger Spider-heroes, one of the other Spider-Men slipped away toward a pile of broken concrete. Behind it, a young boy crouched nervously, trying not to be seen.
"Hey, kid," Spider-Man said gently, stepping into view. "We meet again sooner than expected. You did great out there."
The boy looked up, startled.
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have known what to do," Spider-Man continued, kneeling. He held out his hand. "But now, I need the Override Key back. Go home, get some rest. We'll reach out to you in a few days."
The boy hesitated before finally nodding and handing over a small white USB drive.
"Thanks," Spider-Man said warmly. "You've done enough for today."
The boy clearly wanted to stay, to fight alongside the others, but the look in his eyes gave him away—he wasn't ready. His breathing was uneven, his body trembling, and he hadn't even noticed the cut along his arm. Blood dripped silently onto the rubble.
Spider-Man watched him walk away before returning to the group.
"That kid's name is Miles," he told Malrick quietly. "Like us, he was bitten by a radioactive spider. He's brave, but right now, he's lost and overwhelmed. He reminds me of myself at the beginning."
Opening his palm, he revealed the USB. "Before you arrived, I gave him the Override Key to destroy the collider. It was the only option at the time. But this isn't the place for him yet, so I sent him home."
Malrick gave a small nod. "Sounds like you're planning to train him later?"
"If he's willing," Spider-Man said with a faint smile. "It would be good to have someone else protecting the city."
With Little Peter balanced against his hip, Malrick descended the ruined scaffolding and rejoined the others. Holland-Spiderman was still talking, explaining every detail of what had happened so far.
"Before we make a plan," Holland-Spiderman suggested, "maybe we should all introduce ourselves properly."
As his words faded, the long trench coat of Shadow Spider-Man stirred unnaturally. His voice carried like a cold wind.
"No matter where I am, the storm answers to me. I am Peter Parker, from 1933."
One by one, the Spider-heroes introduced themselves. Penny Parker stood proudly beside her Spider-Mech. Spider-Ham made an exaggerated bow. Gwen Stacy gave a short wave, her white suit gleaming. Then Tobey and Garfield's Spider-Men stepped forward with familiar nods.
Another middle-aged Spider-Man raised his hand. His suit was stretched slightly at the waist, his hair unkempt, and a weariness clung to his face.
"I'm Peter Benjamin Parker," he said. "My story's a lot like his." He gestured at Tobey's Spider-Man. "Got bitten, became Spider-Man, fought crime, fell in love. Nothing different, really."
He patted the small bulge of his stomach beneath the suit. "Except my marriage is… on the rocks. Mary Jane wants kids. But me?" He shook his head with a sigh. "I can't agree. Being Spider-Man makes it hard to believe in a safe future, much less raising a child in it."
The other Spider-Men fell silent. The empathy was palpable—each of them carried scars from balancing their personal lives with the burden of being Spider-Man.
And then a too-familiar, obnoxious voice broke the moment.
"Exactly! My dear Belly Parker, you said it perfectly!"
Deadpool exploded into the circle, draping an arm around Peter Benjamin Parker. His suit was torn, a jagged slash running down the center, still dripping blood from his earlier antics with the portal.
"Marriage is ridiculous anyway!" Deadpool declared dramatically. "Accidents, drama, heartbreak. Ugh! Why can't it be simple, like seahorses? They meet, they cuddle, and boom—babies!"
The sudden obscenity made several of the younger Spider-heroes step back, their eyes wide.
Peter Benjamin Parker blinked. "Wait… are you saying your marriage also fell apart?"
"Oh, tragic story incoming," Deadpool said, his tone suddenly dropping into mock sorrow. "Vanessa and I split. All my fault." His voice cracked like a whimpering dog.
The middle-aged Spider tilted his head. "I'm sorry, Vanessa? Isn't she… Kingpin's wife?"
Deadpool froze. "…What?!" His pitch shot up two octaves. "Kingpin? That cockroach in a suit? No way his wife is my Vanessa!"
"Well, maybe in this world," Peter said cautiously, "she ended up with him. Variants and all that."
"No, no, no, no!" Deadpool shouted, leaping up as if stamping the ground could rewrite reality. "That's not Vanessa!" He pointed a finger at the sky. "Kingpin, you're on my list now!"
"Hey, relax," Peter said, suddenly the one calming Deadpool. "Everything will work out, okay?"
Deadpool froze again. His voice softened, syrupy sweet. "Oh, Peter… you always know what to say. You make my heart feel like a kitten rubbing against—"
Before anyone could brace for it, Deadpool cupped Peter's cheeks in both hands and peppered his face with loud, sloppy kisses through the mask.
"I just love you, Peter! Love you to death!" he shouted proudly, as though making a public declaration of romance.
The middle-aged Spider shoved him back, wiping at his face in disgust. "Ugh! The drool—seriously, man!"
Every other Spider stood frozen, staring at Deadpool with horror.
"Something's off," Gwen said sharply. "Every real Spider-Man can sense the others through their Spider-Sense. But you? You're not one of us, are you?"
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Deadpool scratched the back of his head. "…Okay, true. I'm not Spider-Man. But look!" He gestured wildly toward Little Peter in Malrick's arms. "He's not Spider-Man either, is he?"
"Still," he puffed up his chest proudly, "I am Peter! Peter Wade Parker! I love Peter, I love every Peter. You, you, you—especially you!"
Every Spider-Man he pointed at instinctively tensed, as though preparing for impact.
"So many Peters! This is heaven!" Deadpool cried, then lunged forward to hug Holland-Spider.
"Ah, Holland, your sweet little face! Toby Maguire—oh, I love that line of yours, 'Try to be better!' And Garfield, my poor boy, our poor Gwen—"
(Their names is meant for you to know who he's referring to.)
"Wait, what?" Gwen muttered, completely thrown off.
Deadpool ignored her, bouncing from Spider-Man to Spider-Man, planting kisses, leaving smears of drool and blood behind. Finally, his eyes landed on Little Peter.
"Oh my God. Look at him! Mini-Holland! Come here, let Uncle Deadpool squeeze those cheeks—"
He reached out, only to be met with a brutal fist.
Malrick's punch flattened Deadpool's head into the concrete with a sickening thud, cracking the ground beneath him.
"Enough," Malrick said coldly. "This isn't your R-rated movie. You don't lay a hand on children."
Deadpool twitched in the crater, his body limp but still making faint gurgling noises through the mashed mask.
The other Spider-Men stared in silence. For once, not even Deadpool's jokes could fill the air.
_____
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