The battleground was chaotic—surroundings crumbled, webs crisscrossed the sky, and the clash of Spider-People echoed in every direction. Michael Wilson, clad in a spandex suit and bruised from constant attacks, unleashed his berserker power with raw fury. His muscles bulged as he smashed through waves of Spider-People, each punch and kick sending enemies flying. Despite his strength, the sheer numbers were beginning to overwhelm him.
Michael kicked a Spider-Man on his left, but before he could catch his breath, two other Spider-People shot webs at his hands, trying to trap him. The webs tightened around him, but Michael's muscles bulged as he struggled. With a powerful roar, he tore the webs apart, flinging the two Spider-People into each other. Even though he was still fighting hard, sweat was starting to drip down his face—he was beginning to feel the strain.
"Tsk, too many of them.." Michael thought, gritting his teeth as he dodged another barrage of attacks.
Amid the chaos, a figure appeared through the dust. It was Peni Parker inside her SP//dr mech, blocking Michael's path. The red eyes of her mech glowed with intensity, reflecting the pain and anger in Peni's expression. Michael felt a deep ache in his chest when he saw her. He could tell that she was grieving—a loss caused by the tragic "canon events" that every Spider-Person across the multiverse seems destined to face. Peni had lost someone dear to her, and the weight of that pain was clear in her eyes.
Michael's voice softened, "Peni, you…"
Peni's hands trembled on the controls, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "Why? Why did you only show up now?! Where were you when I needed you?!"
Michael's expression was solemn. He could feel the weight of her words. He knew that Peni was fighting not out of duty, but out of despair. The loss she had suffered was tearing her apart. She no longer fought with the hopeful spirit she once had; now, she fought because she felt there was nothing left to lose.
"I know, Peni," Michael said gently, his gaze fixed on her tear-filled eyes. "You feel like the world's against you, that it's unfair… I understand."
His eyes shifted to her SP//dr suit. It was battle-worn, covered in scorch marks and scratches, yet still standing. Just like Peni. "It must've been hard. You've carried this burden for too long."
Hearing those words, Peni's resolve crumbled. Her fists tightened around the controls, but the pain was too much. The tears she had been holding back for so long flowed freely now. "It's not fair… Why did it have to happen to me? Why did it have to happen to them?" she sobbed, her voice echoing inside her mech.
Michael didn't move. He could have taken this moment to strike, but he didn't. He knew that Peni needed something more than just a fight—she needed to be heard, to be understood.
"Life doesn't always give us the answers we want," Michael said quietly, his voice carrying both empathy and regret. "But you're not alone, Peni. You don't have to carry this pain by yourself."
The other Spider-People surrounding them paused, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. For a brief moment, amidst the chaos and destruction, there was only the sound of Peni's quiet sobs and Michael's steady breathing. Even in the heat of battle, the shared pain and understanding between them created an uneasy silence.
But that silence wouldn't last. Michael knew that once the other Spider-People recovered from the emotional shock, they'd be back to fighting. He braced himself, his mind racing for a way to end this without causing Peni more pain.
"Peni… you can still choose how this ends," he said, his voice filled with both urgency and compassion. "I need you Peni.."
The air was thick with tension as tears ran down Peni's face. Her hands shook as she gripped the controls of her SP//dr suit, Michael's words echoing in her head: "I need you, Peni…" For a brief moment, the battle seemed to fade away. All the chaos around them—Spider-People fighting, buildings crumbling, webs flying through the sky—became a blur. Right now, it was just Michael and Peni, caught in a moment where emotions overpowered the fight.
Then Peni's breathing was ragged as she struggled to reconcile her grief with the hope Michael's plea had kindled. The SP//dr mech's eyes flickered, reflecting her wavering resolve. The anger, the loss, and the overwhelming sense of unfairness fought to keep her in darkness, but Michael's words had cracked through that shell.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, the chase was on. Peter B. Parker, with his baby strapped to his chest in a carrier, swung through the streets alongside Gwen Stacy, both of them determined to catch up to Miles Morales. Peter B's mind raced with thoughts of how he could protect Miles while still trying to be a good father. "This is definitely bad parenting." he muttered to himself before kissing his baby's forehead. He couldn't let the other Spider-People get to Miles, not like this.
Gwen, swinging beside him, was equally determined but for a different reason. She needed to talk to Miles, to explain things, to reach out to him before it was too late. Her thoughts were a storm of regret and determination. "Just one more chance to make things right with him.." she thought, her eyes scanning the places for any sign of him.
Miguel O'Hara, the relentless Spider-Man 2099, was focused solely on capturing Miles. His eyes burned with determination as he pushed himself faster, weaving between places and closing in on his target. "Miles Morales, you can't get away from me!" he growled, each swing bringing him closer to his quarry.
Not far behind, Jessica Drew sped through the streets on her motorcycle, scanning for any trace of Miles. She was committed to the mission for Miguel's sake, but also for the stability of the Spider-Verse itself. "This is bigger than any one of us.." she thought, determination hardening her resolve as she accelerated, her eyes sharp and focused
Miles, hiding in the shadows, peeked out to gauge his pursuers. His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed with the desperation to escape. "Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered under his breath as he mapped out his next move. The Go Home Machine, his one ticket out of this nightmare and back to his father. He just needed to reach it—no matter what..
But before he could make his move, a Spider-Man from Earth-0323 spotted him. "Miles! There he is!" the Spider-Man shouted, pointing directly at him.
Miguel's eyes snapped to where the voice was coming from, and he spotted Miles as well. "Miles, stop!!!" he roared, propelling himself forward with a burst of speed, his claws extending as he closed the gap.
Miles cursed under his breath, panic seizing him as he swung away, trying to evade the pursuing Spider-People. He could hear Peter B. and Gwen's voices calling out to him as they caught sight of him too.
"Miles!" they shouted in unison, their voices filled with a mix of urgency and concern.
Peter B. quickly planted a kiss on his baby's head and sighed. "Yep... this is bad parenting.." he muttered, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him even in the midst of the chase.
The race was on, the fate of the Spider-Verse hanging in the balance as Miles swung with everything he had, trying to outrun not just his pursuers, but the destiny they claimed he couldn't escape.
...........
The fight between Hobie Brown, also known as Spider-Punk, and the Spectacular Spider-Man from Earth-26496 was intense. They moved quickly in a dark, industrial room filled with metal beams and hanging chains. The room echoed with the sound of webs snapping and the loud strum of Hobie's guitar as they fought and talked.
Hobie's punk-styled suit, complete with spikes and a denim vest, contrasted against the more classic red-and-blue design of the Spectacular Spider-Man. Hobie grinned, though there was a serious edge to his question. "You're a cool guy, mate. Why'd you side with Miguel?" His British accent carried a sharp bite, even as he twirled his guitar in one hand.
Spectacular Spider-Man didn't answer right away, his eyes narrowing beneath the lenses of his mask. When he finally spoke, his voice was resolute yet tinged with regret. "It's because you can't change fate." With a swift motion, he fired a web aimed straight at Hobie's chest.
But Hobie wasn't that easy to catch. He effortlessly countered, swinging his guitar like a shield and shredding the web in mid-air. "But what if you can?" Hobie challenged, his voice defiant as he lunged forward, strumming his guitar in a powerful riff that sent a shockwave toward his opponent.
Spectacular Spider-Man's reflexes kicked in, and he flipped over the shockwave with grace, evading the attack. He quickly followed up, shooting another web—this time aimed at Hobie's legs. But Hobie's spider-sense tingled just in time, allowing him to leap out of the way. However, it was all part of the plan. In the split second that Hobie dodged, Spectacular Spider-Man closed the distance and delivered a sharp punch straight to Hobie's jaw, sending him flying back into a cluster of hanging chains.
Hobie groaned as he collided with the chains, the metal clattering loudly. He wiped his mouth, shaking off the hit as he gritted his teeth. "Aurg... nice one, yeah?"
Spectacular Spider-Man stood tall, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow. "Look, I get it, Hobie. You want to change the goddamn fate—who wouldn't? But some things... some things are just set in stone." His expression tightened beneath his mask, as if recalling painful memories. "You can fight it all you want, but in the end... you can't change fate. That's the reality, man."
The room felt heavier as Spectacular Spider-Man's words hung in the air. The weight of countless canon events, the loss, and the heartbreak of accepting an unchangeable future, resonated between them.
But Hobie, ever the rebel, clenched his fists and stood up. "Maybe that's your reality, mate, but it ain't mine. I'm gonna tear down every wall, break every chain, and if fate wants to get in my way... then fate's about to get a knuckle sandwich." His guitar crackled with electric energy, defiance blazing in his eyes.
As Hobie and the Spectacular Spider-Man squared off, the dimly lit room was suddenly filled with the presence of dozens of other Spider-People perched on the beams above and clinging to the walls. The kaleidoscope of different suits and designs—ranging from classic reds and blues to more eccentric variants—stood as silent witnesses to the battle unfolding below.
They all sensed the tension, the clash of ideals between two Spider-Men who, despite their differences, were both fighting for what they believed was right. But none of them moved to intervene; this was a fight that Spectacular Spider-Man clearly wanted to handle alone. The others respected that—this wasn't just a brawl, it was personal.
Hobie spat out some blood, wiping his mouth with a grim expression. His eyes stayed locked on Spectacular Spider-Man, even as he felt the weight of exhaustion settling in. "Tsk, I guess I'm nearing my limit, huh?"
He could feel the eyes of the other Spider-People on him, but he didn't care. He thrived in the spotlight, in the middle of chaos, and this moment was no different. "So, you lot just gonna watch? Fine by me. Guess the show's on me, then!" he shouted with a grin, the sharp chords of his guitar echoing through the room.
Spectacular Spider-Man took a deep breath, letting the energy of the room settle. He didn't mind the spectators either—he knew they were there to see which philosophy would prevail. With determination etched across his face, he said, "This isn't about who's right or wrong. I just need you to see what I've learned... what we've all learned. You can't change the canon, Hobie."
Hobie scoffed, the chains rattling as he yanked them off himself and tossed them aside. "You keep talking about this 'canon' like it's some law carved in stone. But laws are meant to be broken, bruv."
The tension between them grew, the air charged with both their convictions—one willing to accept the weight of destiny, and the other determined to defy it no matter the cost. As they prepared to clash again, both knew that this fight wasn't just physical—it was a battle of ideals, a question of whether fate could truly be rewritten, or if the struggle itself was enough to make a difference.
To be continue