Richard sat with his hands folded, the dim neon sign above the Bar With No Name flickering faintly. The air smelled of cheap whiskey, old wood, and secrets. He leaned in, voice uncertain.
Richard: uhhh Captain Stacy? what is this place?
George smirked, swirling the glass of juice in his hand before taking a sip.
George: Welp, Richard, this is the Bar With No Name. Folks come here to drink, vent, and pretend they ain't part of the mess outside. You'd be surprised how many rich people wander through too.
Richard tilted his head, brows furrowed.
Richard: how come i never know this place yet?
George chuckled, lowering his glass.
George: cause I always sabotage the report files about this joint. If the city found out, they'd shut it down and trust me, kid, the fallout would be ugly. A riot waiting to happen. Just another piece of New York shinagenans…
Richard shrugged, eyes darting around at the shadows of men hunched in corners.
Richard: I'm not saying no, but are you sur—
George cut him off, suddenly serious, leaning forward across the table.
George: Yes, I am. Dead serious. Whatever question you've been chewing on, spit it out. Don't be afraid, kid.
For a moment Richard's face was half-hidden in shadow, his jaw tight. Then he looked up, eyes sharp with curiosity and a touch of fear.
Richard: is it true that the mayor and some politician are… some kind of a government? like… I don't even know the mayor's name here, kinda forgot…
George exhaled slowly, his gaze heavy, as if weighing whether to speak.
George: The mayor of New York… Anton Miguel Rodriguez. Born in South America. Came here with promises of change. Got himself a daughter—
but nobody knows her name, or where she's kept. I've been digging into his schemes for years. And every damn time… it backfires. He's got the city by the throat, Richard. And if you're smart, you'll remember that.
The silence hung thick between them, only broken by the distant clink of glasses and low murmurs in the bar.
George leaned back in his chair, swirling the juice in his glass. His tone dropped low, almost grave.
George: The point is, Parker, this crime… it's gonna be different.
Richard nodded, though his face showed he didn't fully understand.
Richard: Okay, still… why?
George took another sip before answering, eyes narrowing.
George: Can you think of a single other thing you're good at?
Richard rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating.
Richard: Uh… not really.
George smirked faintly, almost like he expected that answer.
George: That's exactly what I mean, Parker. It ain't easy to spill the truth of a truth.
Richard tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
Richard: Truth of a truth?
George: Ever heard of the saying, inaction in action?
Richard: Yeah… I've heard it.
George stood from his seat, straightening his jacket. He reached over and patted Richard on the shoulder with a firm hand.
George: Well, that's just an ordinary garage to make a worth of the best as a cop. Live your life to the fullest build a normal family, make it happen. But if you're willing to drift through life half-asleep… then it's time you woke up.
Richard looked down at the empty glass in front of him, his reflection staring back, shadowed and uncertain. He didn't answer not atleast not yet.
-LATER-
The city outside was quiet, at least as quiet as New York ever got at night. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, the occasional honk of a cab breaking through the hum. Inside a small, dimly lit rented apartment, Richard Parker was asleep on the sofa, his arm hanging off the side, a half-empty beer can resting on the floor.
Suddenly, a sharp buzz and a pulse of blue light filled the living room. A faint whirring sound followed. Richard jolted awake, eyes wide, disoriented.
Richard: What the fuck?!
On the coffee table, a small box shimmered into existence, humming with energy. A flicker of light projected upward, forming into a glowing hologram of a man in futuristic spandex suit Booster Gold.
Booster Gold: Is this Richard? Richard Parker of the 20th century… year 1988?
Richard blinked, rubbing his eyes.
Richard: Uhhh… yes? Wh-who are you? Are you some kind of ghost!?
Booster Gold raised his hands quickly, smiling nervously.
Booster Gold: No, no, no you got it all wrong! As I was saying… see that box on the table? That's your choice to make.
The hologram pointed at the box.
Booster Gold: Inside is a picotech stealth suit… or an AI suit that can mask your identity. And some bio-organic web catalysts, necessary for you to undergo a post-human transformation.
Richard, still breathing heavily, hesitated before leaning forward. His hand trembled as he grabbed the box. It clicked open with a hiss, revealing a smooth, black sphere glowing faintly. He touched it the surface rippled like liquid metal.
Richard: What in the world is that supposed to mean?
The hologram flickered, Booster's tone shifting, more serious now.
Booster Gold: Many years ago, in the original timeline… you weren't meant to stay a cop. You were supposed to be something more a hero. A vigilante. Spider-Man.
Richard froze, staring at the sphere.
Booster Gold: But I… I destroyed it. You were framed for murder when you weren't in your suit. People supported you, but the government didn't. After pleading not guilty, you were declared a free man both as Richard Parker and as Spider-Man.
Booster's expression darkened.
Booster Gold: But that very night… you were murdered. A bullet to the head. Midnight. That was the end of you.
Richard's grip on the sphere tightened.
Booster Gold: I couldn't let that happen. I traveled back. I saved you. But… in doing so, I erased the original timeline. Now this is an alternate reality where you are not Spider-Man.
The hologram flickered, his voice heavy with regret.
Booster Gold: This box… this choice… is your chance to take back what was stolen.
Richard sat in silence, the black sphere pulsing faintly in his palm, reflecting the weight of a destiny he never knew he had.
The night air was cold on the rooftops of New York. Richard Parker stood alone, the city stretching beneath him in restless silence. In his hand, a small capsule glowed faintly, the outline of a spider twitching inside.
Booster Gold's voice echoed, not aloud but in Richard's mind, almost like a confession carried across time.
Booster Gold(narration): I stole your future… I robbed you of your destiny… You weren't meant to be just a man with a badge. You were meant to be something greater. Something more.
Richard's eyes hardened, his grip tightening on the capsule.
Booster Gold (narration): In another life… you were the hero who stood against the tide. A vigilante. A protector. But I-I tore that away from you. I buried it under lies, under chains you never deserved.
The capsule clicked open in his hand. The spider within crawled free, its tiny legs brushing against his skin. Richard held his breath, staring at it.
Booster Gold (narration): The question is… do you want it back?
The sunrise began to break over the horizon, golden light spilling across the skyscrapers. Richard whispered, steady but fierce:
Richard: …I want it.
The spider sank its fangs into his hand. Richard's body jolted, veins lighting up like fire beneath his skin. His breath hitched as something new surged inside him power, alien yet familiar.
The AI Suit unfolded from the black sphere he carried, wrapping around his body piece by piece like liquid armor, sleek and alive. By the time the sun fully crested, Richard stood transformed shadows bending over his dark figure, his eyes glowing beneath the mask.
A new Spider-Man was born.