Chapter 9
Spider-Man sat on a gargoyle, staring at the red tear-stained mask he held in his hands. He tried to remember when was the last time Spider-Man had done more good than harm. The last time he could think of was far too long ago. “With great power there must also come great responsibility.” That sentence had ruled his life for so long, Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to have normal responsibilities like everyone else. It seemed all he did was get people killed. Captain Stacy and Harry were dead because of something connected to Spider-Man, and now, so was Gwen. Gwen, who had never done anything to deserve such an awful end. Gwen, whose father he’d promised to keep safe. Gwen, the woman who had trusted him even at his worst. She’d misplaced that trust. Peter had thought seeing the Goblin die would make him feel at least a little bit better about failing her. But instead, it just made him feel even more empty and alone. Where had it all gone wrong? What happened to the days when being Spider-Man was as easy as living on the edge, fighting crime and spinning webs? When did it become about…all this?
His brooding was paused as he heard a strange sound behind him, pulling his mask back on just in time to see a man in another blue and red costume step out of some sort of portal. The man raised his hands defensively. The mask around his face retracted using some sort of extremely advanced technology that normally Peter would have joked about and asked where he could find it. But today, he just rolled his eyes and dropped his stance, too tired to even keep up his posture.
“Hey kid. I heard you’ve had a long day, to put it mildly,” the man said as softly as possible, walking over to Peter and crouching to meet his eyes.
“What do you want?” Peter groaned. The guy obviously wasn’t there to fight, so if he wouldn’t get to punch anyone, then this guy was just wasting his time.
“A lot of things,” the man answered. “But at the moment? I just want to help you.”
“Why?” Peter sighed, sitting back down. The man sat down next to him, looking over the city skyline with him as he talked.
“Because my name is Miguel O’Hara. And I’m the Spider-Man of 2099”
Peter turned to look at him. “Like, the year 2099? The future?”
Miguel nodded. “Yeah. That’s part of it. The rest is a bit too long for me to explain here, but I can tell you how I can help you.”
“How?” Peter asked, now curious.
“What if I told you that every bad thing that ever happened to you wasn’t just because of being Spider-Man, or that ridiculous thing you call the Parker luck? What if I told you that they had to happen, or your world as you know it would fall apart? What if I told you that they were necessary?”
“So what, it was pointless to try at all?” Peter asked, confused and a bit scared. “Haven’t you ever tried to stop bad things from happening? You’re Spider-Man too, aren’t you?!”
Miguel lowered his head even as he nodded. “I did. I did try. And I succeeded. I stopped someone I cared about from suffering. But that was one of the necessary events. Stopping it killed…a lot of people. Including the one I wanted to help in the first place.”
Peter sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Miguel patted him on the shoulder gently. “Me too.”
“I promise I didn’t come here just to tell you that. I came because when I heard about you, and what you’d gone through, I thought maybe you might want to come work with me and the other Spider-People. Protecting other places you’d never imagined explorable. Get away from this place for a while. If you ask, I can always send you back. You don’t have to come at all if you don’t want to. We have a massive amount of recruits already, so don’t feel compelled. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.”
Peter looked down at his hands. What was left for him here? An aunt and friends who he couldn’t tell anything to? A city who hated him like never before? A rogues gallery that never seemed to stop growing? At least in whatever club Miguel was offering, he’d still be able to be Spider-Man without constantly messing things up for the people of his city.
“I’ll take it,” he whispered, looking Miguel in the eyes. The older man smiled and took his hand, leading him to the portal. He slipped a small bracelet onto Peter’s wrist, presumably for whatever club they were joining.
“It’s okay, Peter,” he said reassuringly as they walked off. “You won’t have to be the only one making all the hard choices now.”