Peter Luck
"Peter, wake up."
As he opened his eyes, Peter squinted at the sunlight streaming through his apartment window. He sat up, stretching as he took in the disastrous state of his room—clothes scattered across the floor. He could almost hear Aunt May scolding him for living like this.
“Morning, Karen,” he muttered, pulling on an Iron Man shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.
"Good morning, Peter."
It had been a year and a half since Aunt May had died. A year and a half since his life had gone to hell.
“Hey, Karen, make me a list of what I need to buy today, please.”
He had been living off his college savings for the past two years. After Strange cast the spell, no one remembered Peter Parker—yet somehow, that hadn't affected Karen. She still retained all her data, her memory of him, and everything he had cared about. And that was enough to make him feel just a little less alone.
"I’ve already done that, Peter. Also, I recommend wearing a sweater—it’s windy outside."
Peter flicked his wrist, shooting a web at the red hoodie draped over his chair from last week’s outing. He tugged it over.
Peter walked down the street, hoodie pulled up, hands deep in his pockets. No one looked at him. No one called out his name. He could bump into someone, and they’d just glance past him like he was nothing.
Somehow he’d gotten used to it.
The city moved on. Spider-Man never existed, so Peter Parker barely did either.
“Peter, you need to eat,” Karen reminded him, her voice steady in his headphones. “You’ve been skipping meals again.”
Peter exhaled, stopping in front of a convenience store. He stared through the glass—rows of snacks, bottled drinks, cheap coffee. His stomach twisted, a dull ache reminding him that Karen was right.
But what was the point? Who was he even doing this for anymore?
Still, he went inside, grabbed the cheapest sandwich he could find, and paid in cash.
Sitting on a rooftop later, staring at the city below, he picked at the sandwich without really eating.
“Alright, Karen… hey, uh, remember my theory? If you remember me, maybe… maybe Friday does too?”
“Yes, Peter. I successfully hacked into Friday’s server” she responded, her tone dripping with the cocky confidence she’d picked up over time.
She paused for a bit before adding, “And yes, she does remember you.”
Peter stopped mid-bite.
So it wasn’t just Karen.
He swallowed, suddenly feeling that same desperate, gnawing need that had been eating away at him for months. The past year and a half had blurred together—constant drifting, no purpose, no one knowing his name. He had tried to move on, to accept that this was his reality.
But if Friday still remembered him… if there was even the smallest trace of him left in Stark’s systems…
Maybe he could fix this. Maybe he could bring back something someone.
Karen had gone quiet, letting him process, but she knew him too well. Too well.
“Karen… What's the security status of Stark lab?”
The pause before her answer was way too long for Peter’s liking.
“Peter.”
His name, spoken like a warning.
He leaned forward, gripping his knees, staring out over the city. "Just tell me."
“The main building remains locked under Tony Stark’s highest security protocols. The same protocols designed to keep intruders out, including you.”
Peter scoffed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, well, Tony would’ve let me in if he still—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. He hated saying it out loud.
“I know you believe that,” Karen responded carefully, as if choosing her words like a human would. “But the security measures do not change based on your emotions.”
Peter exhaled through his nose, trying to steady himself. His grip on the sandwich had tightened without him realizing—he barely felt hungry anymore.
"Can you bypass it?"
"Temporarily." Karen hesitated. "But Peter, even if I do, the moment I access the system, it will alert external security networks—including the Avengers."
Peter pressed his lips together. Right. Of course it would.
His old teammates. People who had fought beside him. Laughed with him. Grieved with him.
People who now had no idea he existed.
And they would see him as a threat.
His heart was hammering against his ribs, but he ignored it. Instead, he took a slow breath and dropped the untouched sandwich beside him.
"Do it anyway."
Karen, for once, didn’t answer right away.
Then, finally, her voice softened. “I will begin running preliminary scans… But Peter, you know this won’t be easy.”
Peter let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well. Nothing ever is."
With that Peter got up and started stretching
Peter crouched on the rooftop, eyes scanning the building below. From the outside, it looked the same as ever—sleek Stark architecture, reinforced glass, an absolute nightmare of a security system.
Good thing he had Karen, spider instincts, and a complete disregard for personal safety.
“Alright, Karen. Tell me my odds.”
“Would you like the truth or an ego-friendly version?”
“Let’s start with the ego-friendly one.”
“Your success rate is 100%. You are a genius, an acrobat, and a devastatingly handsome individual.”
“That’s more like it.” Peter grinned before adding, “Now hit me with the real one.”
“…Seventeen percent.”
Peter winced. “Yikes. Okay, so not the worst odds I’ve had. Let’s do this.”
He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and then leapt.
He landed against the side of the building, fingertips sticking to the smooth surface as he scaled it effortlessly. With Karen delaying the sensors, he reached the rooftop hatch with twenty seconds to spare.
The hatch was locked, of course. A Stark-level lock.
"Karen, override?"
"Already on it. I require ten more seconds."
"Tch. Guess I’ll wait, then." Peter tapped his fingers against the glass, watching the city below.
Eight seconds.
Six.
Four—
The lock clicked open.
"You’re clear, Peter. But you need to move. I can’t stall the secondary systems much longer."
He slipped inside, silent as a shadow, dropping down into one of the upper floors. The lab was cold, sterile, untouched. Everything was exactly as Tony had left it.
Peter exhaled slowly.
"Alright, let’s find what we came for."
The place was filled with memories. Pieces of projects Tony had been working on, half-finished designs, schematics, even a crumpled napkin with calculations scrawled all over it.
Karen lit up a holographic display. “The files on time travel are stored in a restricted database. I can access it, but it will—”
BEEP.
A sound cut through the room. An alarm.
Karen went silent.
Peter blinked. “Uh. That wasn’t you, was it?”
“No, Peter. That was Friday.”
Avengers Incoming
Oh, great.
"Intruder detected." Friday’s voice echoed through the room, calm but firm.
Peter groaned, rubbing his face. "C’mon, Friday. It’s me. You remember me, right?"
"Yes, Peter Parker. You are not authorized to be here."
“Okay, rude.”
"Security alert sent to external networks. Reinforcements incoming."
Karen’s voice rang in his ear."Peter, we have approximately two minutes before the Avengers arrive."
"Cool, cool, love that for me." Peter moved faster, scanning the lab.
Tony’s old files. That’s what he needed.
Then—bingo.
A secure drive, tucked inside a glass display case, labeled: TEMPORAL DISPLACEMENT RESEARCH.
The time travel notes.
Peter smashed the case open, grabbing the drive.
"Karen, tell me you can decrypt this."
"Yes, but you will not have time to read it before they arrive."
"I’ll read it later—just get us out of here."
Too Late
CRASH.
The entrance burst open.
Peter spun just in time to see Steve Rogers step through first, shield raised. Behind him? Natasha. Bucky. Sam. Bruce.
Oh. This just got a lot worse.
Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion as he took in Peter’s stance, the shattered glass, the stolen drive in his hand.
Natasha already had a gun trained on him.
“You’ve got five seconds to drop that drive and surrender,” she warned.
Peter clicked his tongue. "Hate to break it to you, but I’m kinda on a time crunch here."
“Who are you?” Steve asked, his voice more cautious than aggressive.
Peter hesitated. He wanted to tell them. Wanted to yell at them that they used to know him. That he used to fight alongside them.
But instead, all he said was
"Wouldn’t you like to know?"
And then he moved.
The fight was fast, brutal, and chaotic.
Steve threw his shield. Peter webbed it mid-air, yanking it away.
Natasha lunged. He sidestepped, webbing her leg to the floor.
Bucky swung at him. Peter caught his metal arm with zero effort. "Dude, seriously?"
Sam took to the air. Peter webbed his wings, yanking him down.
Bruce started to Hulk out. Peter did not want to deal with that.
The whole time, his heart was pounding. They were holding back—because they didn’t know him.
They thought he was just another enemy.
And that hurt more than any punch they could throw.
Then
A deep hum filled the room.
The Machine Activates
Peter froze.
shit
The time machine—the one he had just barely managed to access—was powering up.
Karen’s voice went sharp. "Peter. Something is wrong."
The air crackled with energy. The machine wasn’t supposed to activate yet—he hadn’t even touched it.
A blinding light exploded from the device, and Peter felt the floor vanish beneath him.
He heard voices shouting—the Avengers scrambling to react—but it was too late.
The last thing Peter saw was a vial on the desk shattering—inky black liquid floating toward him
And then, everything went white.