[Before this All Happened]
[Earth 42]
The dimly lit room smelled of sweat and metal, with the hum of machinery filling the background. Miles Morales was bound to a heavy boxing bag, his wrists tied, dangling helplessly. His heart raced as he looked around, trying to process the situation. Across from him stood another version of himself, dressed in the black and purple armor of the Prowler, helmet gleaming under the faint light. Beside Prowler Miles stood Uncle Aaron, quiet but menacing, his eyes never leaving Miles.
Prowler Miles began to slowly approach him, his movements deliberate and confident. His voice cut through the tension in the room.
"Your dad is still alive?" Prowler Miles asked, his voice laced with something cold, almost detached.
Miles blinked, confused by the question. "What?"
Prowler Miles stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Your father. You said he's still alive."
A heavy silence hung between them as Uncle Aaron continued to watch, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah... he is..." Miles replied, his voice hesitant. The weight of this alternate reality pressed down on him—everything felt wrong, twisted.
Prowler Miles circled him slowly, the sound of his boots echoing in the room. His gaze was unrelenting, eyes hardened by a life Miles couldn't even begin to comprehend.
"Who are you?" Miles asked, even though the answer was already painfully obvious. He needed to hear it out loud, to make sense of this bizarre things of his life.
Prowler Miles stopped in front of him and reached up to remove his helmet, revealing a face almost identical to his own, yet so much darker, filled with pain and anger. "I'm Miles Morales," he said, his voice low but firm. "But you..." He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with menace. "You can call me the Prowler."
The revelation hit Miles like a punch to the gut. The same face, the same name, but a completely different life. Prowler Miles had lived through something entirely different—something that had turned him into this. A predator. A hunter.
Tied to the boxing bag, Miles struggled to make sense of it all. Desperation clawed at him as he thought about his own world, his family—his dad. His dad was still alive, but if he didn't get back... He knew what was going to happen.
"If I don't get home..." Miles began, his voice shaking slightly. "Our dad is gonna die."
Prowler Miles' eyes flickered with something—perhaps a sliver of recognition, but it was quickly buried beneath the hardened exterior. He balled up his fist and punched the side of the bag near Miles' head with a loud thud, sending a shockwave through the air. The message was clear: there would be no sympathy here.
"Your dad..." Prowler Miles said, his tone cold and final.
Miles' heart pounded in his chest as he felt the walls closing in around him. He had to escape, had to get back home. "Please. You have to let me go.." Miles pleaded, his voice filled with desperation.
Prowler Miles' eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared at the version of himself tied before him. "Why would I do that?" he asked, voice low and menacing.
Miles knew he was running out of time. His fingers, hidden from view, were already working behind him, trying to generate the charge he needed to zap through the chains that bound him. He could feel the faint hum of electricity gathering in his fingertips. He just needed to buy a little more time.
As Prowler Miles and Uncle Aaron loomed over him, Miles felt the weight of this reality crash down on him. This version of himself was not his ally—he was the enemy. And if Miles didn't escape soon, he might never get the chance to save his father, his world... or himself.
The room seemed to pulse with tension as Prowler Miles watched his captive struggle, his expression unmoved. His voice was cold and calculating as he continued, "Your dad... is he a captain?"
Miles, still focused on generating enough energy to zap through the chains that bound him, answered, "Yeah, he will be soon."
Prowler Miles stared at him, his tone grim and unrelenting. "Then he will die soon."
A surge of frustration and desperation coursed through Miles. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on breaking free. "That's why you have to let me go. I need to save him—to save everyone."
Prowler Miles' response was chilling, laced with bitterness. "Nah. I'm gonna let you experience what I lost."
Before Prowler Miles could react further, a sudden thwip cut through the tension, and he was yanked back by a webline, caught completely off guard. Out of the shadows, a figure landed gracefully in front of them—it was Gwen Stacy, her white and pink Spider-Woman suit gleaming in the low light.
With her arrival, the room shifted, the oppressive air lifting just slightly. Behind her, Hobie Brown, the punk-rocker Spider-Man, appeared with a smirk. Following them, Peter Porker, aka Spider-Ham, and Spider-Man Noir stepped forward, their distinct styles contrasting against the grim atmosphere.
Miles, still bound but momentarily hopeful, looked up, wide-eyed. "Gwen..."
Gwen's gaze softened when she met his, the weight of guilt clear in her expression. "This time, I'm going to atone for what I did to you, Miles." she said, her voice sincere, almost pleading.
Miles looked at Gwen, emotions swirling within him—relief, confusion, maybe even a hint of anger. But he turned his attention to Hobie, who gave him a casual nod.
"Zup, man." Hobie said, flashing a confident smirk, clearly unfazed by the gravity of the situation.
Miles couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Hobie."
Peter Porker, always quick with a joke, chimed in. "Well, I couldn't miss a chance to see my friends, right?" He grinned, twirling a web like a lasso.
Spider-Man Noir adjusted his hat, his voice gravelly and intense. "If only they'd come sooner in my universe, I could have seen more of us." he muttered, always the brooding one.
"Ham... Noir!" Miles exclaimed, a bit of the tension easing with their familiar presence.
Then, realizing the gravity of the situation again, he quickly asked, "Wait, where's Michael and Pete?"
Gwen stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They've gone to your universe, Miles. They're trying to find Spot, along with the others."
Miles nodded, understanding that the battle was far from over. He clenched his teeth, feeling the energy surging within him, building to its peak. His hands sparked with bioelectricity as he focused all of his remaining strength.
With one final effort, Miles gritted his teeth and released a powerful charge, zapping the chains that bound him. The metal sparked and shattered, freeing him at last. He dropped to the ground, his body weak but ready to fight.
Gwen and the others moved into position, standing side by side with him as they faced off against Prowler Miles and Uncle Aaron, the weight of the multiverse on their shoulders.
"Let's end this." Miles muttered, determination flashing in his eyes.
.......
Meanwhile in Miles Universe
The group of Spider-People moved cautiously through the streets of Miles' universe, their senses heightened as they scoured the area for any sign of Spot. Tension filled the air, each of them aware that time was running out. Among them were Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man Red, only 16 years old and still learning, along with Peter B. Parker, the older, more seasoned version of himself. With them were Takuya Yamashiro, the Japanese Spider-Man, Jessica Drew, the fierce and determined Spider-Woman, Spectacular Spider-Man, and Ben Reilly, the Scarlet Spider.
Ben Reilly, known for his unique way of sensing danger, suddenly tensed, his muscles rippling under his suit. "I can feel it... my muscles are tingling." he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the environment.
Takuya, ever the no-nonsense type, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "The hell does that even mean?" he asked, his tone half-amused, half-bemused.
Spectacular Spider-Man sighed heavily, shaking his head as if accustomed to Ben's odd remarks. "That's just Ben being Ben." he muttered under his breath, glancing at the others with an exasperated look.
Peter Parker, the youngest of the group, was focused, despite the banter around him. He crouched by a nearby trash bin, eyeing it suspiciously. "Is he here?" Peter asked, his tone serious as he peered into the garbage, his brow furrowed with concentration.
Peter B., watching the younger version of himself, let out a soft groan and facepalmed. "No, man, that's a trash can," he said, exasperation clear in his voice. "I get that we're looking for a guy who can teleport through portals, but trust me, Spot's not hiding in there."
The younger Peter wasn't convinced, though. He tapped the side of the trash can, eyes still scanning the area. "You can't be sure," he muttered. "From what I've heard, Spot's been using his portals to hide in all sorts of places. Maybe he put one here."
Peter B. sighed, clearly torn between annoyance and grudging respect for the kid's outside-the-box thinking. "Yeah, that's totally stupid... but also makes sense at the same time." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around the desolate street.
Jessica Drew, who had been leading the search, turned back to the two Peters, her patience wearing thin. "Shut up, both of you," she snapped, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. "We don't have time for this. Stay focused."
The two Peters immediately straightened up, exchanging nervous glances. Despite their differences, they shared a look of mutual understanding—they both feared Jessica's wrath more than anything at the moment.
Peter B. then glanced up at the sky, his mind wandering for just a second. (I hope my baby is okay... ) he thought, his thoughts drifting to his daughter. He shook his head, trying to refocus on the mission at hand. Spot was a threat to not just this universe but countless others. They had to find him—and fast.
......
In the Spider Society's headquarters, the air was thick with tension. Michael Wilson, the legendary Spider-Man, stood tall, his presence commanding in the room as Pavitr Prabhakar and Miguel O'Hara stood beside him. Strapped securely to Michael's chest was Mayday Parker, Peter B. Parker's baby, giggling softly, oblivious to the weight of the moment.
Pavitr looked up at Michael, his eyes filled with desperation and hope. "Please, sir, save my universe.." he pleaded. Pavitr's home was teetering on the brink of destruction, and he knew only someone as powerful as Michael could help.
Michael, calm and collected, placed a hand on Pavitr's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said, his voice steady. "I intend to save not just your universe, but every universe that has been affected—the ones that got erased, the ones with quantum holes. I won't let any of them disappear."
Miguel O'Hara, who had been quietly listening, stiffened at Michael's words. The mention of "erased universes" struck a deep, painful chord. His thoughts immediately went to Gabriella, his daughter, whose universe had been one of those erased. The memory of her laughter, her touch, all taken from him when her universe vanished. It haunted him.
Miguel clenched his fists, struggling to keep his emotions in check. His voice was low, almost trembling, as he looked at Michael. "Are you really sure about this, Michael? Can you really bring back what's been erased?"
Michael's eyes met Miguel's, unwavering and filled with determination. "Yes, I'm sure," he said confidently. "I've already planned everything out. I won't leave anyone behind."
Miguel's breath hitched for a moment. He wanted to believe him, but the pain of loss was still raw. Yet, when he looked into Michael's eyes, there was a force—a quiet, almost incomprehensible strength—that made him believe, if only a little.
Michael turned his attention to the panels showing different universes in the Spider-Verse. His eyes scanned over the panels of Miles Morales' universe and Prowler Miles' universe. The tension in both timelines was palpable, with chaos inching ever closer.
Michael's voice grew firmer. "I will do whatever it takes to save all of the Spider-Verse," he said, his conviction resounding in the room. Pavitr gazed at Michael in awe, his faith in the legendary Spider-Man growing stronger by the second.
As Miguel watched Michael, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of awe mixed with unease. There was something about Michael that was beyond comprehension—a power or force that couldn't be explained by logic alone. It was as though Michael was beyond even the strongest Spider-People, transcending the limits of their abilities.
Suddenly, in the silence of Michael's mind, a voice echoed. It was the system that only Michael could hear. "Host, your universe. It seems like a canon event is starting... Peter's canon event."
"What?"
To be continue