//------------------------------//
// Ch. 3 "Oil and Water. Milk and Honey" 
// Story: Ultimate Spiders and Magic: Episode VI "Smoke and Mirrors" 
// by Maximus_Reborn 
//------------------------------//

Chapter Three “Oil and Water. Milk and Honey”

Peter guided a small comb through his hair, repeating the process until the strands were straightened. Aria sat on the edge of his bed with a narrowed gaze, shifting through various screens on her cellular device. A disgruntled groan escaped from the boy’s mouth while he sorted through his thoughts, unable to shake one free as it burrowed deeper into his psyche. Suddenly, a hint of clear energy funneled into Aria’s chest, and she inhaled sharply at its sensation.

A blank expression formed on the girl’s face as she lifted her gaze. “Hey. I hope you realize that whenever you overthink or dwell or something, I literally feel it.” Exhaling, she closed the phone before placing it down onto the bed. “Care to share what’s going on?”

Biting down on his lip, Peter shook his head and huffed. “It’s just that Trixie said something, and it’s kind of sticking with me.” He placed the comb down, turning to face Aria momentarily. “Do I come off like a jerk some–”

“Yep,” Aria bluntly stated, her expression ever stoic. “You can be a bit of a snob, too.”

Peter’s brow twitched while his frown deepened. “You could have hesitated a little bit.” However, he scratched the back of his head after a brief duration, dismayed. “I’m hearing that more though, so it must be true. It sucks that it had to come from you.”

Aria scoffed, arching a brow. “What’s that supposed to– Never mind. Dumb question,” the girl huffed dismissively, “Granted, you have been on edge lately, for good reason, so I’ll cut you some slack. I honestly don’t mind, but I can’t speak for everyone else. Not that I’m a glowing endorsement for friendliness in the first place.”

Just before another response could be given on either side, May entered the room with a freshly-pressed shirt in hand. “Here you go, sweetie. You have to look your very best for this date!”

Snorting, Peter rolled his eyes before gently taking the shirt from the woman. “There’s no way that this is a date. It’s just dinner with Trixie and her folks.” He paused, sliding the shirt onto his body. As he snapped the buttons in place along his collar and torso, the boy exhaled. “I don’t even know if Trixie and I are friends half the time, let alone anything more, so there’s no way that this isn’t anything more than a get together.”

An awkward silence filled the room for several seconds, while Aria shook her head in a disappointed manner. “Wow. For someone so smart, you’re as dense as a rock,” she brushed a hand through her violet hair, huffing, “A girl doesn’t invite a guy over for dinner to meet her parents unless she really likes him. I mean, as annoying as she can be, Trixie does go out of her way to spend time with you.”

“Is there a reason why she’s always talking down to me or treating me like a personal assistant?” 

Rolling her eyes, the girl snorted. “In case you haven’t realized, she does that with everyone. You’re just the one dumb enough to not immediately blow her off… outside of the two other bumbling idiots that follow her around.” Humming, Aria raised a finger objectively. “Do you see Snips and Snails getting an invite? Of course not. Not in a million years.”

Peter scoffed, exasperation evident in his voice. “Well, it was more her father’s idea to invite me over for dinner. What about that?”

“It sounds like they’re practically twins, so you tell me,” Aria grumbled before picking her phone back, resuming to peck away at its screen.  “Whatever. Actually, use that brain of yours for once, outside of science and numbers. Trixie is clearly projecting. Why? I dunno. You figure that out. I will say that I don’t feel any negative emotions from her when she’s around you, so there’s that… even with your bad attitude.”

A low growl escaped from Peter before he averted his attention towards his aunt. “May? Level with me. Am I a jerk sometimes?”

“Of course not, sweetie,” May gently said, earning a confident nod from the boy. However, the woman hummed while pursing her lips. “Then again, you can be a touch outspoken and… prickly.”

Never averting her gaze from the phone, Aria chuckled under her breath. “See? Even the living marshmallow thinks you’re an ass–”

“Language!” May interjected, causing the girl to raise her hands in mock surrender. 

Blinking, Peter stood dumbfounded with a furrowed brow. “Seriously? For how long? Is this recent, or–?”

May shook her head, sighing. “You’ve always been like that. You only seemed to have dialed it back when Ben…” she murmured, trailing off as her eyes widened at a realization. The air thickened, making the simple act of breathing difficult. Peter shook his head, glancing away once Aria lifted her gaze, but May hastily cleared her throat, laughing nervously while waving a hand dismissively. “Honestly, dear. You’ve gone through so much lately that it’s understandable why you would be a touch grumpy. I only ask that you keep an open mind with your friends. They all seem very nice, and I’d hate for you to lose them, like you did with Eugene.”

Slow to respond, Peter let out a defeated sigh, while taking a pillow in hand. “Okay. I guess you’re right. Maybe I can swing by the mall and get her something along the way.”

“That sounds nice. Whatever you give, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” May sweetly declared, cupping her hands together.

“Yeah, and for once, actually put some thought into it,” Aria dryly muttered, hissing as a pillow promptly flew into her face right afterward.

Ignoring the siren’s flurry of curses, Peter simply shrugged, before gesturing a wave. While he quietly left the sanction of his home and entered the streets of Canterlot City, the boy sank into his thoughts once again. However, the sounds of the world pierced his cranium, causing Peter to wince in pain and cover his ears with a hand, in vain hope of ceasing the overstimulation. Fortunately, the journey was brief, and he reached a small plaza with an assortment of stores organized throughout. Peter eventually stopped in his tracks, retrieving his wallet from the confines of his back pocket.

Sadly, he could only frown at the lonely pair of bills in his possession. “Great, I’ve already burned through most of my allowance, thanks to the groceries, and I can’t bring myself to ask May for more. I’ll have to get a job soon, to make things easier on her.” Shaking his head, Peter held his gaze on the articles of clothing resting behind the store’s window. Suddenly, his eyes widened at an object hanging near the corner of the display case, zoning in on the price tag placed underneath. With a nod and grin, Peter jogged into the store with a renewed sense of purpose. “That’s perfect!”







Trixie paced across the living room with her arms crossed, alternating her gaze between the table and door. “Is that enough? I am telling you that my friend is a bottomless pit. Make certain that we have seconds!” she stated, tapping her foot impatiently, as catering finished organizing the food across the table. Once everyone had departed, the girl peeked outside and exhaled before slamming the door shut. “He’s going to be late. I mean, he’s always late, but where is he?!”

“Well, I’m happy to see that I was right. You really must like this boy if you’re this uptight about it,” Jackpot lightly declared. He soon finished consulting with an individual, handing him a clipboard before dismissing him with a wave. After watching his daughter continue to pace in place, the man walked towards the girl with an arched brow, stealing a glance at the clock across the room. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. “He still has fifteen minutes. I’m certain that he’ll make it on time. Just try to relax. Unless he has a habit of being fashionably late?”

The girl held a hand over her forehead, exhaling. “It’s practically instilled into his DNA to be late… or not show up at all.”

Humming, Jackpot’s smile remained intact as he raised his brow curiously. “Yet, you seemed to have accepted that. Otherwise, you would have given up long ago. Sometimes, we have to be willing to give one extra leeway, instead of expecting them to break their habits,” Crossing his arms, the man huffed, “Is there a reason your friend is always late?”

“Sure. I mean, he does have a job with our physics teacher,” Trixie hesitantly responded, glancing to the side while avoiding her father’s knowing gaze. The temperature in her face continued to rise, evident by her pink stained cheeks. She soon exhaled, throwing her hands up into the air. “Don’t defend him! He’s always finding a way to avoid hanging out with everyone! He treats our time together like an obligation most of the time!”

Blinking, Jackpot’s eyes widened momentarily as he raised a finger objectively. “Tell me. When you two are out or even alone, how do you act around him?”

Trixie scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “No different than usual!”

Suddenly, Jackpot’s head fell, and a defeated chuckle escaped from his mouth. “That’s what I was afraid of. Please tell me you don’t bark orders at him and treat him like an underling?” An awkward silence filled the room, with the girl nervously glancing to the side. Jackpot inhaled deeply before letting out a sigh. “Of all the traits you inherited, it had to be that and from you know who. Pumpkin, people respond better to kindness. It’s a simple concept.”

Taken aback, Trixie straightened her posture in a snap. “I am kind to him! I share my food with the ingrate, and I make it a point to share my time with him!” Her brow lowered into a glare as she crossed her arms. “Not that he appreciates it.”

“That’s the problem,” Jackpot firmly yet gently affirmed, placing a hand over the girl’s shoulder. “Let me ask you this first. What do you like about him?”

Taken aback, Trixie was slow to respond, but she raised a finger, nodding. “He is intelligent, prideful, and a good listener. When pushed, he has a lot of backbone when it comes to those close to him. He’s also aloof, but he pays attention when he wants to. Oh, and he is very loyal, and it’s easy to smile around him… even if he babbles like a prideful moron. ”

Jackpot snorted involuntarily. “Heh. Sounds like someone I know dearly.” Clearing his throat, the man sobered before holding out his hand. “I can tell your friend is reliable. You have the best intentions, but you are masking your kindness with indifference. While it’s clear that he sees past it to an extent, maybe just out of instinct or obliviousness, you are making it difficult for him, and everyone else, to understand you.” A soft set of knocks were heard at the door, causing both individuals to glance in its direction. However, Jackpot eased back into his seat at the table, before motioning his hand. “Lose the mask for the night, and I guarantee that things will be easier.”

As if contemplating his words, Trixie huffed inwardly while glancing to the side. Slowly, but surely, the girl stood onto her feet and stumbled towards the door upon reaching it. Flustered, she paused to brush the wrinkles from her dress and shared a final glance with her father. Slowly opening the door, Trixie inhaled sharply as she met a bright hazel gaze. 

Peter dumbly blinked in response, sheepishly scratching the back of his head while he glanced over her figure. The boy wore a freshly pressed shirt, disregarding his usual baggy attire, and his unkempt hair was neatly combed back, brushing against the back of his neck. Meanwhile, the girl stood with a simple dress while it graced over her knees, flowing gracefully while a small breeze entered the abode. Both individuals felt the temperatures in their faces rise, evident by the flow of pink and crimson that stained their cheeks respectively. 

“Um… you look nice,” Peter murmured after a brief duration, freeing the words stuck in his throat.

Trixie bit down on her lip, fidgeting in place until she recollected her nerve and straightened her posture. “And you… clean up decently.” She trailed off, arching a brow before narrowing her gaze. “I’m still not a fan of you growing your hair out, but I’ll take what I can get from a mongrel like you.”

Peter managed a smirk, rolling his eyes. “I guess mongrel is a step above bumpkin.” Sobering, the boy cleared his throat, before offering the girl the small bag in his grasp. He glanced away, shrugging dismissively. “It’s not much, but I got you something.”

Trixie’s usual confident posture wavered, evident by her softened gaze as she gently accepted the item. Jackpot quietly watched from the corner of his eye, smiling as his daughter stammered about. For what seemed like minutes, Trixie managed to remove the item from the bag, and she could only blink at the soft pointed hat, her eyes widening at its simple blue and violet, star-patterned design. An awkward silence soon filled the room while the air grew thin, making the simple act of breathing difficult.

Peter raised his hands defensively. “I know it’s dumb, but I know these are your favorite colors. Plus, you have a thing for stars, and seeing that your pops is a magician…”

“I prefer the term illusionist, but I understand the conception,” Jackpot murmured matter-of-factly, straightening his posture.

Clearing his throat, Peter scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Anyway, I thought you might like it.”

“Yes, it is dumb,” Trixie responded barely above the hint of a whisper, never averting her gaze from the hat. Her eyes steadily softened as she traced a finger along the silky material. Albeit faint, the corner of the girl’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s so stupid.”

Oblivious, Peter exhaled while reaching out towards the hat. “Sheesh. All right. I get it. I’ll just take it back tomorrow, and–”

“No!” Trixie blurted out, pulling the hat away towards her chest, before the boy could hope to reach it. An awkward silence filled the room, as Peter stared dumbly at the girl’s shift in demeanor. However, Jackpot erupted into laughter, prompting the girl to glare in his direction with a flushed expression. As if recognizing what had transpired, Trixie forced an exaggerated chuckle and waved a hand dismissively. “T-There is appeal in something so simplistic, bumpkin! As stupid as it is, Trixie will make use of this. So, sit tight, while I find a place for this!”

An exasperated groan escaped from the boy while the girl patted his head condescendingly. Once Trixie exited the room, Peter’s expression grew blank. However, Jackpot gestured a wave and held his hand over an empty seat at the table. Nodding, the boy eventually accepted the notion, and his mouth slowly fell agape at the assorted meal scattered across the table, the fumes of each snaking into his nostrils. Peter recollected his senses, groaning as his stomach grumbled in protest.

“I do beg your pardon. My daughter just finds it difficult to be honest with herself,” Jackpot politely declared, freeing Peter from his self-induced trance. Both individuals shared a glance, before the older male winked playfully. “I can assure you that Trixie loves your gift. I had considered buying her something similar, but I know she’s more appreciative that it came from you.”

Several minutes had passed, and the evening had remained pleasant. Freshly sliced ham, two full bowls of vegetable soup, and rolls of bread sat at the center of the table, albeit momentarily. Jackpot watched with a widened gaze and mouth agape as Peter finished his third bowl of soup, leaving only half of the ham in his wake. The boy paused, alternating his gaze between the remains and the older man, as if asking for permission to continue. 

Jackpot chuckled before placing his utensils down, simply nodding in response. Meanwhile, Trixie sat unphased, casually eating her salad as Peter finished what was left of the widespread dinner. Eventually, everyone had finished their respective plates, prompting the servers to clean the table. As they did so, Jackpot stood from his seat and motioned his hand as he exited the room.

Both Peter and Trixie followed his lead, briefly traversing through the nearest hallway, until they reached a room in particular. However, the boy’s eyes widened upon spotting several items behind display cases and large portraits placed along the walls. From miniature spaceships, costume masks, props of city buildings, and portraits of various movie sets. Each item shone under a bright light, and rolls of films were neatly assorted alongside sets of discs, each labeled accordingly.

Jackpot smiled widely, while holding his arms out in dramatic fashion. “Allow me to present my personal Hall of Fame!”

Slack-jawed, Peter rushed over to a display case holding a wolf mask. “No way! This is from “Night of the Living Werewolf!” he paused, snapping his line of sight to the other side of the room before skipping to the next case. His eyes practically beamed, as he gazed upon the tiny ship within the glass. “The Endurance from Interstellar?! This has to cost a fortune!”

“You’re a fan?” Jackpot questioned, grinning. 

Trixie scoffed, finding a seat while sorting through the collection of discs. “He’s more of a dork than anything else.”

The older man took a small cloth, cleaning specks of dust away from some of the props. “I’m flattered. I actually designed most of the items in this room.” Shaking his head, Jackpot huffed before walking towards his Mysterio costume. “Years before I became the Great and Powerful Illusionist that I am today, I was but a simple special effects makeup artist and digital designer for Hollywood. As you can see, I worked on various titles and handled the special effects and stunts for each film personally, before I chose to retire from the field.”

Peter tilted his head to the side, freeing his gaze from the display case. “Really? What happened?”

Trixie frowned, shaking her head briefly. “My father’s name was sullied. They believed his work was too over-the-top and felt he relied too heavily on special effects.” Slamming her hands against the desk, the girl fumed. “He used practical effects to perfection, and he wasn’t a director! They over saturated his work and used him as a scapegoat! It wasn’t fair! He–!”

“It’s okay, Pumpkin. I’ve moved past those days,” the older man reaffirmed, prompting the girl to exhale before she stomped out of the room in a huff. After a brief duration, Jackpot shifted his attention back to Peter. “I’m sorry. To this day, it breaks my daughter’s heart that I was forced out of Hollywood. As she referred, I wanted to be an actor and director, but my efforts were… poorly received. Over time, I just found Hollywood and its politics … tiresome and wished to make a name for myself, using my own merits. I sought employment elsewhere for some time, before taking my talents on the road. Thus, gave rise to the Great and Powerful Mysterio!”

Peter’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry to hear that happened. I didn’t know Trixie was so impacted by it. It explains a lot. I mean, she acts like you, right down to the third-person self-talk.”

Chuckling, Jackpot nodded. “More or less. My little girl has been there with me through it all.” 

The man trailed off, shifting his line of sight to one of the portraits on the wall. Peter matched his movement, narrowing his gaze on the photo of Jackpot donning the wolf costume. However, just behind the man was a little girl, her image bearing a striking resemblance to Trixie. Just then, Peter looked towards a different photo, finding the child in the background once again. This process repeated with the same results, for what seemed like minutes. For every set, Trixie was prevalent. Jackpot walked up to Peter, standing by his side, before he gently held a hand over his daughter’s image in the nearest photograph.

“She wants to get into show business. I wanted to deter her from it, but she’s tenacious about it. I’m sure you can tell that much,” Jackpot stated, earning a small chuckle from the boy. Sobering, the older man lowered his gaze and smiled. “Thank you, Mister Parker. I know my daughter isn’t the easiest to put up with, but I can tell she really likes you. Please continue to be patient with her.” Jackpot jumped in place as a musical tone erupted from his pocket, prompting the man to retrieve his phone. He shared a nod with Peter. “I have to take this. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

Heeding the man’s word, Peter quietly exited the room before closing the door behind him. Just as he made his way down the hallway, the boy caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. Peter narrowed his gaze on yet another portrait, this one holding an image of a small child, with a carved pumpkin placed over her head. Jackpot sat behind her, with a globe over his own, both even wearing matching violet capes over their shoulders. 

Trixie released an exasperated sigh from behind, freeing Peter from his daydream. “Don’t laugh. That picture is not one of my best,” she whispered, her face burning.

“Now, I get why he calls you Pumpkin,” Peter chuckled, folding his arms.

Scoffing, Trixie managed a smile. “Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, and that year, I wanted to be just like my father: the Great and Powerful Mysterio. My attempt was laughable, but Father thought it was adorable.”

“It is adorable,” Peter simply stated, straightening his posture, “I think it’s cool that you and your dad have a good relationship. That’s why I’m sure you’ll make it into show business one day. I mean, you have the confidence for it.”

The girl’s eyes widened momentarily, before she averted her gaze to the side, huffing under her breath. “You don’t have to console me,” she muttered, fidgeting in place while pursing her lip, “but I do appreciate that.” Like lightning to a rod, a thought struck Trixie’s mind. She raised a finger, smiling devilishly. “If you mean the sentiment, you will assist me! I have grand plans!”

Blinking, Peter arched a brow as his complexion slowly grew pale. “Huh?”

Reaching out, Trixie patted the top of Peter’s head and grinned. “Don’t worry your little head about the details. I will consult with you when the time comes.” Pausing, the girl reached into her pocket and retrieved a pair of tickets, before extending them to the boy. “Since the last show was ruined, I wanted to go to the show. Hopefully, things will stay safe this time.”

Humming, Peter glanced to the side before nodding. “That’s a great idea. Yeah. I’d like that.”

Taken aback, Trixie tilted her head to the side. “No arguing? I don’t have to twist your arm?”

“I can always argue if you want,” Peter groaned, rolling his eyes.

Waving a hand dismissively, Trixie scoffed. “It’s actually a nice change of pace, when you’re agreeable.”

“It’s actually a nice change of pace when you are nice,” Peter dryly fired back, smirking.

“What’s the meaning of this?” a firm and cold voice questioned, piercing the void between the two.

Trixie’s entire complexion paled, evident by the hint of white filling her cheeks. She snapped towards the direction of the voice, inhaling sharply as a fair-skinned woman practically morphed into the vicinity, without making a sound. Peter stammered, furrowing his brow as he met the individual’s steely violet gaze. Her silver-blue hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, held in place with a star-shaped ribbon. An awkward silence filled the room, as the woman alternated her eyes between the teenagers, her gaze narrowing deeper with each shift.

“M-Mother! I-I wasn’t expecting you to make it back home so soon!” Trixie nervously blurted out, after what seemed like an eternity.

Huffing, the woman brushed a hand through her hair. “You sound disappointed,” she harshly stated, folding her arms before arching a brow at the boy, “So. Did one of the assistants lose their way?”

Shaking her head, Trixie stepped between the pair. “No, Mother. Um… this is Peter, my friend from school. I told you about him.”



Slow to respond, the woman frowned as her face twisted. “Not nearly enough, apparently,” she whispered, walking past the pair. Whipping her violet scarf back, she pointed at the nearest door. “It’s late. I suggest you go home immediately.”

“But–!” Before Trixie could hope to respond, her mother had exited the vicinity, as quickly as she entered it. Deflated, the girl’s shoulders lowered, and what remained of her confidence had long dissipated. Her gaze shamefully fell to the ground, while she rubbed her arm. “I’m so sorry. My mother. She…”

Oblivious, Peter simply shrugged and chuckled. “It’s no big deal. I’ve given you a hard time before, so maybe I had that coming. Either way, I had a blast tonight. I got to see a lot of cool stuff from your father.” Nodding, the boy made his way to the door and stepped outside before pausing briefly. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and chuckled. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow!”

Trixie managed a smile, gesturing a wave. “Obviously. Just don’t be late this time.” Sharing a nod, the girl watched as the boy jogged off, and once he was out of sight, Trixie placed a hand over her chest. “...and thank you.”







Meanwhile, Jackpot sat in the middle of his room, while sorting through what appeared to be a script. As he flipped through its pages, his phone rang once more. The man instinctively pressed its center button, activating the device. 

“Jackpot speaking,” he stated, never averting his gaze from the script.

“Quite the performance. Very convincing. Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch,” a dark voice stated, humming, “I must admit that you cover your tracks well… Quentin Beck. It’s been quite some time.”

Jackpot’s demeanor stiffened, as the script slipped free from his grasp, landing on the desk. Biting down on his lip, the man inhaled deeply before sighing. “Norman Osborn. It hasn’t been nearly long enough. I would ask how you found me, but we both know you’re resourceful. I still remained… optimistic that I would have avoided your annoying gaze until the end of time.”

A dry chuckle could be heard from the other side of the phone. “Such a sharp tongue. You haven’t changed at all over the years, Quentin.”

“I made it a point to change my identity so you don’t call me that,” Jackpot growled, tightening his grip on the phone. “What do you want?”

“Straight to the point. So unlike you, but I prefer it this way. I have a proposition for you,” Norman dryly chuckled, pausing before huffing, “...to bring me Spider-Man. The real Spider-Man.”

Jackpot inhaled sharply as his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

Norman scoffed. “Please, Beck. It’s easy to recognize your work. Although I must admit that you’ve refined your work expeditiously since then. Your parlor tricks compliment it nicely.”

“I’ve left that line of work, Osborn. For whatever reason you want Spider-Man, leave me out it,” Jackpot reaffirmed, frowning while glancing to the side. 

Slow to respond, Norman hummed. “I hear you have a daughter. Does she know about your old hobby? What would she think if the truth got out?”

Slamming his fist into the desk, Jackpot stood from his seat, before rubbing a hand over his forehead. Letting out a defeated sigh, the man simply nodded. “Fine. I’ll take care of it, but only on the condition that you leave me and my family alone. Consider this my last job.” Sobering, a dark glint flickered across Jackpot’s gaze. “Does it matter if Spider-Man lives or dies?”

“So long as we can extract his DNA, it hardly matters,” Osborn coldly declared, huffing afterward. “Just leave enough intact. I know how creative you can get.”

To be continued…