In Peter Parker's hidden underground laboratory, a space that was part workshop, part superhero lair, Gwen Stacy lay on a state-of-the-art diagnostic table. An array of strange scanning devices hummed around her, all focused on her prone form. Hopping nimbly across the console terminals and diagnostic equipment was a diminutive, grey-skinned creature with large green eyes, no taller than her hand.
Earlier, Ben had explained the entire situation to this universe's Peter Parker—the multiversal collision, Kingpin's collider, and the temporal paradox that prevented them from acting prematurely. Peter, a seasoned hero in his own right, understood immediately. His job was now to monitor the Kingpin and, using Ben's guidance, develop a program to safely reverse the collider. The first step was data acquisition, and Ben had pointed him to the one place that would have it: the abandoned laboratory of this world's Doctor Octopus. Stealth was a piece of cake for this Peter, a man who had successfully balanced his double life for years and was, by all accounts, second only to Ben himself in terms of sheer competence.
Ben's task, in the meantime, was to fulfill his promise to Gwen and develop a device that could stabilize her molecular structure against the painful, degenerative effects of being in the wrong universe. To do that, he needed data, and Gwen's intermittent, painful glitches were the perfect source.
"But why?" Gwen asked, her voice tight with frustration as she watched the tiny amphibian-like alien zip back and forth. "Why am I the only one breaking down like this? You seem perfectly fine."
"Our biological situations are… different," Grey Matter chirped, his voice a high-pitched but clear staccato. He noted a string of data on a holographic display with a flick of his eye. "The device that grants me my abilities has its own dimensional safeguards. It isolates my core matrix from external reality, preventing cellular decay. You, unfortunately, don't have that luxury."
Gwen sighed, slumping back onto the table. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're all geniuses with perfect lives, and I'm the loser." So far, she had met two other Spider-People. One was a god-like entity who could solve multiversal crises in his spare time, and the other was a successful, well-adjusted adult who had managed to find a happy balance between being a hero and a person. She, on the other hand, had made a complete mess of her life. She couldn't protect her best friend, and her own father was hunting her, convinced she was a murderer.
Thinking of it, a wave of profound depression washed over her.
Ben, even in his alien form, sensed the shift in her mood. He hopped onto the edge of the diagnostic table beside her head and gently patted her temple with a tiny, three-fingered hand. "Don't be sad," he said, his voice softer now. "Things will be different now that you've met me."
Gwen managed a weak, sarcastic smile. "What are you, some kind of fairy godmother?"
"I am, in fact, learning magic," Ben said matter-of-factly. "The Sorcerer Supreme of my dimension, a bald woman named the Ancient One, wants me to take over her job, but I refused. I'm still just trying to get a handle on my own innate mana."
Gwen had never heard of a Sorcerer Supreme, but it sounded incredibly powerful, which, considering it was Ben, seemed entirely plausible.
She watched him work for what felt like only a few hours. Then, with a final flash of green light, Grey Matter vanished, and Ben stood there in his human form, holding a device that looked remarkably like a sleek, futuristic watch.
Gwen sat up, astonished. "You're done? Already?" It had been a single night. He'd solved the problem of multiversal cellular decay in a few hours. The idea was so ridiculous it bordered on absurd.
"I had a pretty good template to work from," Ben said, gesturing to the Omnitrix on his own wrist. The protective systems of his watch were incredibly comprehensive. He gently took her arm and fastened the new device around it. With a turn of the dial, a familiar hourglass logo briefly appeared before dissolving into a multi-function holographic screen.
"I added some basic functions as well," he said, his tone casual. This was familiar territory for him, not unlike upgrading Peter's or Harry's suits back home. "You can use it for communication and location tracking. It's got a scanner for analyzing unknown objects and substances. And most importantly," he added with a grin, "it can change color."
With a tap of his finger on the display, the watch's default black-and-green color scheme shifted, swirling into a perfect match of the pink-and-white of her Ghost-Spider suit.
"Whoa," Gwen breathed, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks as she looked at their wrists. They looked like a pair wearing matching couple's watches.
"By the way, I finished that nano-suit for you, too," Ben added, as if it were a minor afterthought. "It's bonded to the watch. You won't have to worry about replacing your gear until the last nanomachine gives out." He tapped the display again. "Your suit's status will be displayed here. One-click repairs, instant cleaning, and it can reconfigure its material structure to generate its own webbing." He gave her a playful look. "It has a user-friendly interface. It's foolproof."
Then he let go of her hand.
"Are you calling me a fool?" Gwen asked, though her blush deepened and there was no heat in her words.
Ben held up his hands in mock surrender. "Just a joke, don't take it seriously."
Gwen wasn't angry at all. In fact, she was more flustered than anything, clasping the hand that still felt warm from his touch. Being thrown into this strange, familiar world had been terrifying, but meeting Ben—another Spider-Person, another anomaly—was a novel and strangely comforting experience. The connection their spider-senses shared felt special, different from the one she later felt with this universe's Peter. It was a unique frequency, a sense of safety that cut through the chaos.
With Ben, she felt like she could finally breathe. She didn't have to worry, didn't have to have all the answers. For the first time in a long time, she could rely on someone else, a feeling she hadn't experienced since she was a little girl who still believed her father could solve any problem.
She watched with a sense of admiration as Ben began assembling several more of the stabilizer devices. "You're not Spider-Man," she said quietly, coming to stand beside his workbench. "You're Doraemon."
Ben was concentrating on the delicate parts. "So you don't need to be that little frog anymore?" she asked, peering curiously at his work.
"That's Grey Matter," Ben corrected without looking up. "And no, I've got the structural data I need. The rest is just simple fabrication. Besides, the other devices won't have all the same functions as yours." He had promised her a full nano-suit, after all. The others would just get the standard-issue stabilizer wristband, like the one Miles wore in the movie.
Hearing that hers was a special model made Gwen's face turn red again, and she subconsciously fiddled with the watch on her wrist. For the rest of the time, she was uncharacteristically quiet, simply watching him work with rapt attention.
During this period, Peter returned once, holding a data drive he had successfully lifted from Doctor Octopus's lab. He was about to head down to the basement to analyze it, but Aunt May stopped him at the door, giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Don't disturb the two young people," she whispered.
She looked at Peter, her expression soft and happy. "You know, when I first saw Ben, I thought to myself, if my Ben and I had ever had a child, maybe he would have been just as wonderful and brilliant as him." She sighed wistfully. "Then I thought, no, that's impossible. We were never the cleverest of people."
Peter put an arm around her, hugging her tight. "But you raised me," he said gently. "And I'm pretty smart."
"That's because you take after your parents," she replied.
"No," Peter insisted. "Lots of smart, talented people use their gifts the wrong way. You taught me to be kind, May. You taught me to do good. That's all a credit to you."
A few hours later, Peter finally returned to the basement. With Ben's help, they used the stolen data to fabricate a USB key designed to deliver a kill code to the particle collider.
"You have to admit, being able to use a particle collider to open a stable channel to a parallel universe… this Doctor Octopus is a legitimate genius," Ben said, impressed as he analyzed the schematics. While he couldn't replicate the machine himself, the theoretical principles were fascinating.
"When in doubt, it's always quantum mechanics," the older Peter said with a wry grin. In their corner of the multiverse, the Quantum Realm was the key to everything time and space related.
"The key is ready," Ben said, holding up the finished drive. "Now, we just wait for Kingpin to turn the collider on again. That will complete the time loop, pull the rest of the Spiders here, and then we can get rid of him and send everyone home." The crisis in this parallel universe felt, to him, like a problem with a clear and simple solution.
And since Peter had retrieved the data without being discovered, it was possible that the collider accident that would have created The Spot might not happen at all. A whole universe, saved from that particular villain.
"Then again," Ben mused aloud, "villains always have a way of showing up, one way or another."
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