> Ultimate Spiders and Magic: Episode VI "Smoke and Mirrors"
>  by Maximus_Reborn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: "Path Finders"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prologue “Path Finders”

With a bemused expression, Peter stared blankly behind a large pair of shades at nothing in particular while sitting in the lab. “Are we done yet, Doc?” he questioned, exasperation evident in his voice, “There’s some kind of announcement going on, and I don’t want to miss it. Everyone already thinks I’m a flake. The last thing I need to do is give them more ammo.” 

“You can’t rush through the details of altered genetics, my boy. It’s only been two days since your… incident,” Otto nonchalantly declared, paying no mind as Peter exhaled loudly. Turning to the side, the man hummed, “How is your vision? Are you still sensitive to light?”

Peter held a hand over his face before shaking his head. “I’m sensitive to everything, Doc, but I’ll get over it.” Pausing, the boy removed the shades from his head and offered them to the professor. “I just realized that I held on to these by accident. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

Otto waved his hand dismissively. “Keep them, son. Consider them a gift. Lord knows that I have plenty of extras. Roselie would prefer it if I dwindled down the collection some.” He peeked through a microscope at a blood sample his pupil had given him, alternating his gaze between that and the walls of text that scrolled across the nearest monitor’s screen. Arching a brow, the man chuckled under his breath. “You’re more irritable than usual. Has Twilight been giving you a hard time again?”

Peter inhaled deeply before sighing, throwing his hands high overhead. “It’s not just her. It’s all of her friends and some of mine. Twilight thinks I bailed on her again, I’ve been snapping at my friends, everyone’s jumping at their shadows whenever Spider-Man is mentioned, and–” he trailed off, pausing as his stomach growled loudly in protest. His brow twitched in response. “I’m even hungrier than usual! Aunt May scrambled half a dozen eggs, gave me three bowls of oatmeal, and tossed in a bag of apples for breakfast this morning. That’s the usual routine, and it hardly put a dent in me!”

Otto straightened his posture as he cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. “I see. It seems your already high metabolism has grown even more. We can’t be surprised, considering the transformation your body has undergone. You need more fuel to compensate for your acquired upgrades.” The man opened the drawer to his desk, retrieving a stethoscope, and after he eased the tongs into his ears, Otto placed the disk-shaped resonator over Peter’s chest. His brow furrowed while rapid yet firm thumping echoed throughout his cranium, before he eventually removed the equipment from his head. “You have a very strong heart. Most humans couldn’t survive having that heart rate without suffering, yet here you are, healthy as an ox! Fascinating!”

“Doc, your inner mad scientist is showing again,” Peter dryly declared, rolling his eyes as the older man cackled to himself. With a dismissive shrug, he leapt into the nearest room before reemerging in his heroic attire within mere seconds. “If it’s the same to you, I have to take care of a few things. See you tomorrow.” Otto, returning his attention to the microscope, simply gestured a wave. However, just as Peter closed the door behind him, maniacal laughter could be heard from within the lab. Yet, the young man seemed unphased, evident as his masked eyes furrowed. “That dude scares me sometimes.”

Bursting into a sprint, Spider-Man leapt high into the air, but his trajectory was disproportionate, as he cleared over a pair of buildings. He flailed his arms and legs wildly, attempting to recollect his sense of balance. Eventually, he shot out a strand of webbing onto the edge of the nearest building and swung for several meters with some semblance of control. Some spectators watched the vigilante swing across the city, some aweing at the sight while others screamed apprehensively.

“Glad to see my adoring public still loves me like a hernia,” Peter mumbled, exhaling as some gestured their fingers in provocative manners. A pair of men took empty cans and bricks in hand respectively, hurling them at the airborne individual, but Spider-Man sped past the objects, paying no mind to what was an inconvenience at best. The young man’s masked eyes furrowed. “You know… how is it that Fury sent me here to repair my reputation, but I’ve only found creative ways to make it worse over the course of a month?! I destroyed Jameson’s billboard, damaged his car, hijacked a concert from singing magical seahorses, got blamed for the Juggernaut’s mess, and went all Xenomorph on the city! Is there anything I’m missing?!”

Before he could sink further into his personal tirade, a throb seared through his cranium. The world slowed to a near halt for Peter as a pair of gunshots echoed across the vicinity. Stuck in midair, Spider-Man raised a free hand over his pulsating skull before directing his line of sight to two bullets slowly spiraling towards him. His masked eyes squinted, alternating between the incoming projectiles and the citizens on the ground, who seemingly stood in place in a walking posture. Time soon resumed before Spider-Man swayed out of the bullets’ path midswing, leaving them to harmlessly collide into the brick layout of the building behind his position.

Peter relinquished his webbing and landed on top of a lamppost in a perched stance, still clutching at his throbbing temples. “Geez. I thought the Spider-Sense was overwhelming before, but now, it almost feels like my head’s about to split in two whenever something triggers it. I really hope it acclimates sooner than later.” 

Once his spinning vision settled to a halt, a realization struck his mind like lightning to a rod. Spider-Man growled under his breath, exasperated. “Oh, right. Someone just tried to shoot me in broad daylight?!” he exclaimed, cracking his knuckles while diverting his attention to his assailant. “All right, pal. You just made the biggest mistake of your–” he trailed off as his words fell into his throat. However, like ice under the heat of the sun, Spider-Man’s demeanor shrank as he glanced at a police officer with his firearm aimed in his direction. Peter shook his head inwardly and cursed under his breath. “Ah, crap.”

“S-Spider-Man! I have a warrant out for your arrest!” the officer yelled, failing to contain his nervousness. 

Peter could only stare at the individual for what seemed like an eternity before he leapt to the ground, landing mere inches away. “On what grounds?”

The policeman narrowed his gaze, tightening his grip on the trigger and handle of his firearm. “You know why! For assaulting an officer! My partner!”

All sense of apprehension seemed to have dissipated from Spider-Man as he settled his gaze on the officer’s quivering arms. Inhaling deeply before sighing, Peter raised his hands defensively. “Okay. I understand, and I’m sorry. What was his name?”

“Jefferson Davis! He’s still in the hospital because of you!” he loudly stated, closing the gap between himself and the vigilante. However, just as he was ready to grab his wrist, Spider-Man lowered and vanished in a blur. The officer blinked, stammering wildly as he scanned his surroundings. “Where’d he go?!”

Meanwhile, Spider-Man watched the man continue to hopelessly search for him from the safety of a rooftop several yards away. “Well, that was disastrous. I should have known something like that was going to happen,” he mumbled, placing a hand over his forehead. Yet, his masked eyes widened as he faced a bright white building in the distance. “I wonder if I…”

“Let me stop you right there and simply say no,” a firm voice stated from behind, causing Peter to stammer involuntarily. Fury emerged from the shadows with his arms crossed, shaking his head. “By no, I mean hell no.”

Spider-Man weakly raised a finger, a bemused yet defeated expression forming through his mask. “Okay. Seriously. Two questions. How are you still following me even though I removed the tracker from my suit? And two? Do you just hang out on rooftops? How are you getting up here?”

Fury huffed, “That’s three questions.” With a smirk, the man glanced to the side. “Besides, you seriously thought that was the only way I was tracking you? You’re a priority on my list, and I have many eyes on you. It’d be stupid on my end if I just left you unattended, especially after your latest episode.”

“It’s still weird knowing that you are my personal stalker, and I just have to accept it,” Spider-Man grumbled, holding a blank expression. He paused after a duration, humming as he alternated his gaze from one side to the other. “Still doesn’t explain how you got up on this roof. Do you have a jetpack or something?”

“I know what you’re thinking, kid,” Fury stoically stated, ignoring Peter’s questions, “and it’s a bad idea.”

Sobering, Spider-Man threw his hands out to the side. “Why? I just want to apologize to Officer Davis. I just learned that he’s still in the hospital. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Fury shook his head, frowning as his hardened exterior softened. “Look, kid. Your heart’s in the right place, but I want you to really look at this. The last thing Officer Davis saw was a giant ****ing spider attacking him in the middle of the night. You gave him and my agents enough nightmare fuel to last a lifetime.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, the man furrowed his brow. “Now, how do you think he’d feel if you showed up while he’s injured and defenseless?”

Peter’s head lowered shamefully. “I didn’t think about it in that sense.”

“Just give it some time and bite the bullet for now. Besides, I’ve run his file. Officer Davis is one of the good ones. He’s got a kid that just started kindergarten. Safe to say, I think he’ll hear you out, once everything settles,” Fury calmly declared, walking past Spider-Man while approaching the nearest door. Just as he twisted the knob, the man turned and smirked. “Forget about the Spider-Man stuff for a few days. You have a camping trip coming up! Why don’t you go and enjoy yourself? Take in nature and all that ****! Kids like you could use some sun instead of playing on those phones all day!”

Tilting his head to the side, Spider-Man scoffed harshly. “What are you, my aunt? Besides, how do you know about the camping trip? Are you keeping up with my itinerary, too? Hang on. My phone! That’s how you’re tracking me!” He turned to face Fury, but the man had long departed, leaving the boy alone on the rooftop with the wind as his only company. Spider-Man groaned afterward, lowering his shoulders. “I really hate that guy.”







On the school grounds, everyone gathered throughout the courtyard. Some of the students steadily congregated into the two buses parked at the front, while others maintained conversation. “Camp Everfree” was labeled across the banners hanging across the side of both vehicles. Twilight stared soberly at the signs, while clutching at the straps of her backpack before glancing to the side. Soon, a hand fell over her shoulder, freeing the girl from her self-induced trance, and she shared eye contact with Sunset, who offered a smile in return.

“Everything okay?” Sunset questioned, furrowing her brow.

Twilight used her free hand to straighten her glasses before nodding. “Yes. I’ve just been having some nightmares lately. I’ll be fine.”

Sunset frowned, blinking. “Is it about the other night, or something else?”

Suddenly, Rarity approached the pair while holding a small mirror in hand, staring intently at her reflection within. The girl exhaled, using a finger to trace over the bags under her eyes. “How could anyone sleep after what we experienced? If I never see another disgusting spider again, it will be too soon!” she whined, taking in bated breaths before slamming the mirror shut. Using her free hand as a makeshift fan, Rarity shook her head with dismay. “Now, I have to go back into the wilderness and expose myself to more creepy crawlies? Why must I suffer so?!”

“All the more reason that we go on this trip,” Applejack declared from behind, grinning. She paused, scratching at the plethora of bandages wrapped around the crown of her cranium. A few strands of her golden hair protruded through the taping. The blonde shrugged, nodding. “We’re all wound up after what happened. A peaceful weekend in the woods sounds like the perfect therapy session to help everyone forget what happened.”

Pinkie Pie bounced in place. “It wasn’t so bad. It was like being in a swing all night!”

Arching a brow, Sunset let out a dry huff. “I’m glad you're able to walk away from it with a smile. I just wish someone else could do the same.” She trailed off, wincing once a backpack slammed into the ground mere inches away. Everyone turned to the source as Rainbow glared sharply at the bag, sorting through the items inside. A hot pink tint filled the girl’s face while she fumed, occasionally punching at the side of her backpack. Sunset simply cleared her throat, raising a finger. “Um, Rainbow Dash?”

“What?!” Rainbow blurted out, hastily zipping her bag shut. Everyone watched as she stood, hurling her backpack’s strap around her shoulder before stomping into the nearest bus. Upon finding a seat, the girl narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. “I’m not going to let him humiliate me like that again. I have to find a way to even the scales, but how?” 

Within the circle outside of the bus, Applejack watched the girl with a knowing stare before turning back to face her friends. She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about her. Her ego’s just bruised. There’s just something about Spider-Man that rubs her the wrong way. She’ll get over it.” 

Twilight exhaled, mirroring Rainbow’s glare with one of her own. “She isn’t the only one! He just showed us how dangerous he was if left unchecked!” A dark glint flickered across the girl’s glasses. “Once I’m able to study his biology, I can even the scales in our favor.”

Bemused, Applejack shook her head while tapping a foot impatiently against the ground. “Have ya’ll figured that us messing with him put us in danger in the first place? In hindsight, we really should have just listened to Fluttershy.” Reaching down, the blonde managed to lift her bulky bag from the ground and stepped into the bus. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Twilight and Pinkie shared a glance, grabbing their respective items before following the others into the vehicle. Rarity readied to do the same, pausing once a thought intruded into her mind. “Hang on. Where is Fluttershy? I couldn’t imagine her missing this trip.”

Sunset pointed a thumb behind her position. “Shy said she was going to check on something.” Chuckling under her breath, the girl’s lip curled into a smile. “Knowing Shy, she just wanted to make sure her pets were taken care of. At least, all of the ones she’s not able to bring along.”

Cupping her chin into the palm of her hand, Rarity frowned. “I’m not sure. Fluttershy has been awfully secretive lately. She was already keeping to herself about a boy, and now, she won’t tell us the entire truth about what happened with that overgrown spider.” Stomping in place, Rarity whined while biting down on her lower lip. “I hate secrets! What could Fluttershy possibly have to hide?!”

Arching a brow, Sunset frowned. “Now that you mention it, Fluttershy doesn’t seem too fazed by what happened. If anything, it seems like she’s going out of her way to pretend like everything didn’t happen.” Trailing off, the girl pursed her lips. “I wonder what’s really going on?”

Meanwhile, along the other side of the courtyard, Peter sat on a bench with his arms folded. He watched students prep for their trip with a blank stare, having no feeling on the scenario. However, a hint of pink crossed his peripheral, causing the young man to inhale sharply. Fluttershy gently gestured a wave while smiling, giggling as Peter nearly fell out of his seat. He eventually straightened his posture before nodding, prompting the girl to take a seat along the spot next to him. 

“Hi, Peter,” she sweetly whispered, brushing a hand through her silky hair.

Peter struggled to clear his throat and fuzzy thoughts. “Er… hi. W-What’s up?”

Never losing her smile, Fluttershy grinned. “You look well. I just wanted to see if you were feeling better.”

Sobering, Peter managed a nod. “Yeah. Things are piecing back together, but I’m more upset that everyone thinks I'm a bad guy. Well, more than usual. Especially your friends, not that I blame them. I’m told that I was pretty rough on them.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Fluttershy shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ve told them that you just weren’t yourself, and most of them understood.” She paused, glancing to the side. “Rarity’s going to take a little longer to recover. She has a deep fear of spiders, and Rainbow just isn’t used to losing. I’m afraid that this is just going to push her harder to beat you.”

Blinking, Peter stared at the girl dumbly. “Beat me? I didn’t realize that I was in a competition with someone.”

“Rainbow Dash has always been too competitive. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Fluttershy simply stated.

A content sigh escaped from the young man. “Thanks. Besides a small handful of friends, I’m not really able to talk about this sort of thing openly. It’s pretty refreshing.”

“Oh, g-good,” Fluttershy stammered momentarily. Peter watched as the girl’s face turned as pink as her hair, but she eventually recollected herself, leaning forward. “I can tell that you’re still going through a few things. I just wanted to give you something before I leave.”

Before Peter could hope to respond, Fluttershy gently pressed her lips against his cheek. Albeit brief, a sense of warmth enveloped the boy as his entire face burned to a shade of crimson. Fluttershy soon parted, nodding before placing a small piece of paper on the bench mere inches away. Brushing through the haze his mind was lost in, Peter took the slip in hand. It was gently folded, as if it was carefully prepped. He unfolded it just enough to peek at the message within, and the young man’s eyes widened upon spotting a set of numbers, his mind quickly deducing what the girl had given him.

“Um, call me,” Fluttershy whispered, nodding before turning to take her leave.

Dumbfounded, Peter sat at the bench with a sense of disbelief filling the cockles of his mind. Yet, he stole one final glance at Fluttershy before she exited the vicinity, and she seemingly did the same, sheepishly gesturing a wave. Soon, she joined with her friend, Rarity, and all doubt seemed to have left Peter’s being. In spite of the negativity he previously felt, this sense of good was more than enough to outweigh it, even if it was momentarily. 

Suddenly, a bag dropped onto the table mere inches away from Peter, causing it to shake briefly. “Okay, Parker! We have several things to go over before we head to Everfree!” Trixie loudly declared, brushing feeling back into her hands. 

The girl donned a violet sleeveless shirt and blue shorts with star-patterned high-socks, something different from her usual attire. As he snapped out of his self-induced trance, Trixie sat onto the tabletop before crossing her legs. She retrieved a letter and pen from one of the bag’s pockets, lifting her gaze momentarily. Staring intently at the boy for what seemed like an eternity, Trixie hopped from the table while arching a brow. 

She placed both hands over her hips, pursing her lips. “What’s with you? You’re grinning like an idiot.” Shrugging, the girl waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, it doesn't matter. It’s better than you acting like a sad sack all day. At any rate, this camping trip will be most wonderful for Trixie and yourself, Bumpkins. I’ve already made a list of everything we’ll be doing.”

Peter meekly raised a finger. “Trixie.”

“First, we’ll go walking through the woods,” Trixie firmly declared, ignoring the boy entirely. She pointed a thumb behind her position, where the buses were parked. “Trixie took into consideration that you’ve hardly interacted in the sun or outside in general, so she had Ditzy pack extra sunscreen and bug repellant,” She paused, huffing while bowing condescendingly, “You’re welcome, by the way. After that, we’ll have cooking class. Ditzy is looking forward to that one.”

“Trixie,” Peter stated loudly, irritation evident in his voice and body as his brow twitched.

The girl barrolled through the conversation with her gaze fixated on the list in hand, having not noticed Peter’s protests in the slightest. “The next day, we’ll go swimming in the lake. I hear the water is surprisingly clean. Can you swim? Sure you can. I’ll have to ask Aria if she can as well,” she questioned, scoffing afterward before a response could be given. The girl narrowed her gaze, tugging at Peter’s long sleeve. “Where is your bag? Why haven’t you changed? You’re going to burn up wearing those double-layers.”

Exasperated, Peter finally reached out and took hold of the girl’s wrist. “Trixie! I’m not going! Neither is Aria! Once she heard Flash and Adagio were going, she wanted nothing to do with it.” 

Slow to respond, Trixie’s mind slowly registered the boy's words, and she simply tilted her head to the side in bewilderment. “You’re not going?” she lightly questioned before a switch flipped inwardly, apparent by her narrowing glare. She snatched her hand away, poking a finger against the boy’s chest. “What do you mean you’re not going?! Trixie went out of her way to make plans, and you decide to bail out at the last second?! That’s just rude! I can’t believe you!” 

Exhaling, Peter stepped forth and glared down at the girl. “You never asked if I wanted to go in the first place! Like always, you just assume and never ask if I’m okay with going along with your stupid plans! If anything, that’s rude!”

Scoffing, Trixie placed her hands over her hips. “If my plans are so stupid, why do you go along with them?!”

Peter threw his hands up in frustration, resisting the urge to scream. “Ugh! I don’t know! I’ve been asking myself that since we’ve met!”

However, before the pair’s argument could escalate further, a ringing sound erupted from the girl’s back pocket. Trixie quickly retrieved her phone and glared at the screen, turning away from the boy briefly. “Pardon me. You’re lucky I have to take this.”

Shrugging, Peter shook his head and dryly snorted. “Yeah. Lucky me. Someone else gets to hear the banshee shriek.” 

Paying no mind to the girl’s conversation, Peter groaned as he stood in place with his pinkie finger in his ear. Even now, a simple conversation seemed to have peaked his acute hearing, and the surrounding chatter of the crowd only aggravated it further, further fueling his need to retreat into the quiet sanctums of his home. Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal escaped from Trixie, causing Peter to shiver involuntarily. He glanced at the girl, whose mood seemed to have flipped entirely, and could only furrow a brow at her wide-smile.

Trixie took her bag and tossed it into Peter’s arms before he could utter a response. “Okay, Parker. Because I’m in such a good mood, you are off the hook. It turns out that I am unable to attend Camp Everfree this year, too!”

Inhaling deeply before sighing, Peter let out a low sigh. “Yay. I get that some people, unfortunately me, have that one friend who needs to learn how to whisper, but here I thought I’d get a little peace and quiet for once.” Feigning struggle as he shook his arms and rattled his knees under the bag’s weight, the boy strained with exaggerated bated breaths. “H-Hang on. You were just eager to go on your camping trip. I’d think you’d be more upset that you had to cancel at the last minute. What happened?”

“Some things take priority, Bumpkins, and this is most important to Trixie!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands high overhead, “My father is coming to town!”

Taken aback, Peter blinked dumbly. “Oh? You never mentioned your father.”

Trixie opened her mouth, ready to respond, but she hummed, as if a realization came to mind. “You’re right. I haven’t. How careless of Trixie!” The girl cleared her throat, hopping onto the table before pointing a finger skyward! “Not only is Trixie’s father amazing, but he is the greatest showman and illusionist in all of the world! He is–!”

“--the Great and Powerful Mysterio!”

To be continued
> Ch. 1 "Daddy's Girl"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One “Daddy’s Girl” 

“I told you he wasn’t going,” Spitfire chuckled, turning to share a knowing glance with Octavious, “You owe me five bucks.”

The sun shone brightly overhead, filling Canterlot City with a sense of warmth. Yet, rays of light from the outside failed to enter the confines of the lab of Otto Octavious. Peter murmured under his breath while narrowing his gaze on the prosthetic brace wrapped around Spitfire’s lower back. He tightened a pair of knobs at the center where her spine rested. The device stirred to life, humming as the orthosis around her legs tightened. 

Octavious stood behind Peter while alternating his intent gaze between the woman and the computer screen on the nearest desk. “To be fair, Miss Spitfire, even young Twilight went along for the trip. I believe that negates the wager.” 

“Hey, don’t try to weasel your way out of it! The bet was for Peter! Not Twilight!” Spitfire called out, holding out an open hand. 

Octavious could only let out a defeated sigh as he surrendered a small bill to the woman. “Be careful showing such ravenous behavior. It’s unbecoming of you.”

Peter lifted his gaze momentarily, bemused before placing the screwdriver down. “Seriously? You guys do realize that I just had a life-altering experience? I mean, it’s not everyday a guy turns into a giant man-eating spider.”

Spitfire huffed. “Would that have really mattered? I’ve got a feeling you would have found a way to talk yourself out of going on that trip regardless.” Once Peter arched a brow in her direction, the woman raised her hands defensively. “I’m only going off of what I see. You’ve spent more time with me than your friends. Besides, am I wrong?”

“I cannot, and will not, confirm or deny that accusation,” Peter blankly stated, reverting his attention back to the center knob over the woman’s spine. 

Inhaling deeply before sighing, Spitfire managed a nod before biting down onto her lip. The woman eased onto her feet, managing to stand upright for a few seconds. However, the strength in her lower extremities diminished and left her to collapse to the padded floor. Peter slid his arm underneath Spitfire’s pit, allowing the woman to pull herself back to her feet with some support. 

“Cerebrospinal fluid readings are in the green,” Peter declared, pausing to ensure the woman could stand on her own before facing his mentor. “Dial the pressure back two points. Her muscle structure is overcompensating for the balance. It will probably be another week or two before she is ready for phase two.”

Octavious nodded before sitting at the nearest desk, pecking away at the computer’s keyboard. “Noted. Spitfire’s healing is progressing ahead of schedule thanks to the prosthetics training.” As the screen filled with text, the man cleared his throat after Spitfire eased into the plush comfort of the sofa across the room. A brow raised behind his large pair of shades. “I believe Miss Spitfire has a point. You spend quite a bit of time in the lab. I appreciate your due-diligence, but I can’t help but notice that most of your time is spent here, at school, or as your costumed counterpart.”

A harsh scoff escaped from Peter’s mouth. “What are you two getting at all of a sudden? Is this really about that stupid camping trip?”

“No way, dude. It’s not about the trip,” Spitfire lightly declared, pausing to wipe away the sweat from her forehead with a dry cloth. Sobering, she shared a glance with Peter as he gently removed the orthosis from her lower region. “We know you went through a lot recently. I was just hoping you were going to unwind and have some fun.”

Peter’s eyes softened at the woman’s firm yet gentle tone. “I appreciate that. I mean, this is relaxing for me. I feel better working with my hands and doing something productive.” He smirked, flipping open a panel and revealing the bracer’s inner circuitry. “Do I look like a guy that can survive for a weekend without a single microchip?”

Spitfire shrugged, shaking her head coyly. “I guess not, but my point still stands. You still don’t hang out with your friends nearly enough. It’s probably why Colonel Fury recommended you to Crystal Prep the first time. You come off as a snob with the way you avoid your friends sometimes.”

Raising a finger, Peter readied himself to respond, but he could only recoil, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “That’s not the first time I heard that.”

“Nonetheless, my boy, you know that what she says has merit. Even I am not beyond breaking my introverted ways. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met my wife, Rosalie,” Otto interjected, keeping his attention centered on the wall of text on the computer screen. “You’ve put in plenty of hours and have contributed immensely to Spitfire’s rehabilitation. Perhaps you should take the next few days off? It gives Spitfire a chance to recuperate and myself time to study the changes your DNA has undergone.”

Raising a finger, Spitfire pursed her finger. “I can actually help with that, Doc. It’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to Peter about. He technically owes me a gym grade. If the dork doesn’t want to go to camp, then I’ll actually give him a workout.” Leaning forward in her seat, the woman rubbed at her chin with the palm of her hand. “I have a spot we can use. It’d be a good way to gauge where the dude’s limits are. Plus, it’s a good way to retrain your body. You mentioned everything’s been off since your were-spider spell. It’s just good to know what your limits are now. The last thing you want to happen is that you hurt someone or yourself because you under or overestimated your abilities.”

Blinking, Peter chuckled sheepishly. “Sounds like a bad idea. I’m not so sure about that.”

“Nonsense! That sounds like a brilliant idea!” Octavious firmly declared, practically materializing next to Spitfire with a clipboard in hand. His bright visage darkened as an unsettling grin surfaced on his face. “Make certain that you document everything! I’ll supply any devices should you need suggestions. I have a colleague joining our team. He is a brilliant geneticist, and I can have him bring in anything you need.”

“Everything’s an experiment with you, Doc. All we’re missing is a hamster wheel,” Peter groaned, his brow twitching in exasperation. “I’m almost afraid to ask who you’re bringing on board. Twilight’s… a questionable choice. She not only hates me as Peter Parker, but also wants to dissect Spider-Man like a frog in biology. No exaggeration.”

“It’s research and a surprise,” Octavious hastily stated, clumsily straightening his shades with a finger. With a brief nod, the man huffed. “Do not fret. He is a friend I’ve known for years, who wants to use his research to help mankind. Considering the disaster we narrowly avoided, I’d like to exercise extreme caution to ensure your safety and future. Your identity will not be compromised, I assure you.”

Humming inwardly, as if contemplating the man’s words, Peter was slow to respond, but he relented, hesitantly smiling briefly. “Okay. Thanks, Doc. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Spitfire nodded, grinning. “I’m sure. Anyway, stop acting like we’re twisting your arm, dude.” Just as Peter slid his lab coat from his shoulders, the woman furrowed her brow. “What were you planning to do outside of work, anyway? I swear that I’m going to find you a hobby if you say anything video game related.”

“Well, I was going to go to the library,” Peter murmured, nodding once Spitfire’s face grew blank, “and, yes. I’m serious. I really like to read.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips curling into a smirk. “You are such a dork.”

Peter scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “That was my plan, but Trixie’s dragging me along to see her dad’s show. Apparently, he’s some big shot magician. Cheerio? Oreo? Mystico? Or something like that.”

“You mean Mysterio?” Spitfire questioned before her features lit up, evident by her widening grin and sparkling irises. “Oh, crap! Seriously?! He’s coming back into town?!” she blurted out, fumbling to retrieve her phone from the confines of her bag. Scrolling past the walls of text on her device’s screen, the woman exhaled before shaking her head furiously. “I’ve been so focused on rehabbing that I didn’t realize that I almost missed his show! I’m just glad that I reserved my tickets in advance!”

Slow to respond, Peter folded his arms. “Am I missing something? Is Trixie’s dad that famous?”

Pausing, Spitfire stared intently at the young man with an arched brow. “It’s easy to forget that you aren’t from around here. Before magic or whatever it is that has taken over Canterlot City, we had the Great and Powerful Mysterio!” She readied to respond further, but the woman lifted her gaze, nodding feverishly. “I won’t spoil anything. You’re in for a treat, if this is your first time hearing about him. There’s no one that does illusions and special effects quite like Jackpot! He even performs his own stunts! I modeled some of my aerial techniques after him!”

“Did you say Jackpot?” Octavious questioned, stealing a glance at Spitfire from the corner of his eye. Once the woman nodded again, the man’s brow furrowed before he hummed under his breath. “It’s good to see that he’s found a new hobby. I do question the name change, but all things considered…”

“Did you two know each other?” Spitfire asked, tilting her head to the side. 

Otto inhaled deeply before sighing. “We worked together. He’s a brilliant mind, but he was a bit… narcissistic. One could only bear so much for so long in his presence.” A bead of sweat fell down the side of the man’s cheek. “Let’s just say that in regards to your friend, Miss Lulamoon, you will learn that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

As if a thought came into mind, Spitfire pursed her lips. “Hang on. You said he changed his name. What was it before? Plus, now that you mention it, you also said you two were coworkers.”

“It’s not my place to say. I’m certain Jackpot has his reasons for altering his identity,” Otto whispered, holding a stern expression towards the woman, “I imagine you can understand that sentiment.”

Oblivious, Peter simply shrugged before gesturing a wave to both adults. “We’ll have to continue this later. Trixie will kill me if I don’t make it in time,” he huffed, grabbing his backpack from the nearest rack and exiting through the main door of the building, “Time to see what the fuss is all about.”







People steadily gathered within the large building at the center of the city, filling in dozens of rows of seats. Nearly packed to capacity, everyone kept their attention locked on the stage, as they eagerly waited for the show to begin. Peter sat quietly at the front row with his eyes slammed shut. The surrounding clamoring of the crowd sent waves of pain coursing through his cranium, worsening as his ears seemingly picked up every sound in the vicinity. Retrieving a pair of plugs from his pocket, Peter hastily slid the pieces into his ears, and the young man sighed contently, as the heightened pitch piercing the confines of his brain lessened.

Soon, Trixie walked past some of the seated patrons with a bag of popcorn and beverage in each hand. “I hope you are grateful, Bumpkins! To obtain such seats is a miracle!” she exclaimed, sneering, “Now, you will bear witness to the greatest show in the galaxy!”

“Speaking of which, you’ve never mentioned your father until now,” Peter asked, narrowing his gaze on the girl. “As a matter of fact, you haven’t talked about your mother, father, or family at all. What’s that about?”

Trixie blinked, as if taken aback by the question, but she scoffed in response, shrugging dismissively. “Do I go around asking about your family history? If you are meaning to pry, stop it. That’s rude.” 

Frowning, Peter’s expression grew blank. “I was just asking a question. Geez. It’s just that you are usually an open book about everything.”

“What Trixie meant to say is that it’s fairly obvious that her father is a traveling magician. I simply assumed that you had some tact and took that into consideration,” Trixie dryly responded, pausing to take a sip from her beverage, “As usual, you are rather dense, but I will forgive this transgression as well. Why must you hate taking my feelings into consideration?”

Slow to respond, Peter grumbled under his breath before simply nodding. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The girl pompously hummed, smirking. “Of course I’m right, Bumpkins.” As Peter turned briefly, Trixie’s expression softened momentarily, but she swiftly straightened her posture once the lights in the arena dimmed. Her hands clutched at her bag, causing some of her popcorn to fall to the ground. “Shush! The show’s about to begin!”

Darkness steadily spread throughout the arena, until every shred of light dissipated from sight. Soon, an array of multi-colored small lights flickered and rose from the center stage. They danced in place, spiraling across the room before aiming at one spot in particular. Suddenly, a cloud of smoke erupted and spread, filling the stage with a mist. That same moment, a silhouette of an individual materialized into existence at the center of the fog. They wore golden armor under a heavy violet cloak, keeping their face hidden underneath what appeared to be a crystal bowl. 

“Prepare to be amazed!” a male’s voice exclaimed, echoing throughout the reaches of the arena. His tone was extravagant, bolstering with confidence as he chanted loudly. Green smoke spiraled around his position, spreading throughout the arena while powerful gusts of wind blew through the vicinity. Lightning crackled throughout the smog, and thunder sent tremors coursing through the foundation of the building. The man raised his hands high over his head, cackling. “Mysterio is no illusionist playing parlor tricks! I am a man full of wonder and divinity!”



Peter blankly stared at nothing in particular, whispering, “Doc wasn’t kidding. I see where Trixie gets her self-absorbed tendencies from.” Trailing off, Peter’s cranium buzzed, and the world around him steadily came to a halt. He clutched at his throbbing temples, glancing at Trixie and the other spectators who were frozen in place from his perspective. “Why is my Spider Sense going off? Where is the danger?”

Eventually, the buzzing ceased, and time resumed. Trixie stole a glance at Peter from the corner of her eye, frowning. “What are you mumbling about?”

Peter forced all intrusive thoughts to the wayside as he huffed, reaching into Trixie’s bag of popcorn. After scarfing the item in his grasp down, the young man shook his head. “Nothing.”

The costumed man continued to cater to the audience, wowing them with his special effects, and Peter soon allowed himself to suspend his disbelief, cheering alongside Trixie. For the next hour, Mysterio went through a routine of spells. Before long, the show had ended much to the audience’s dismay, but there was promise of a grander show the following night. While the audience poured out of the main auditorium, Trixie stood from her seat and climbed onto the stage without prompt. A pair of guards hastily rushed towards the girl, ready to apprehend her, but Mysterio stepped forth, raising his hand defensively.

“At ease, gentlemen! That little lady is a VIP!” he loudly stated, removing the bowl from his head before dropping it into one of the guard’s open yet unprepared arms. Almost in a haste, the blue-skinned man removed the costume, handing it to the other security official before waving a hand dismissively. The guards shrugged, departing the vicinity. Donning a vibrant violet suit with a tie, the man grinned uncontrollably before wrapping his arms around Trixie’s body and pulling the girl into a warm embrace. “How is Daddy’s little Pumpkin?”

Slack-jawed, Peter traced a finger against his cheek awkwardly. “Pumpkin?”

Trixie’s eyes widened as the temperature in her face rose, evident by the pink tint filling her cheeks. “I’m a little old for Pumpkin, Daddy,” she declared, stammering involuntarily. The girl straightened her posture, brushing a hand through her silver-blue hair. Holding her hand to the side, Trixie stepped to the side and revealed a flummoxed Peter. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend from school. He’s the bumbling bumpkin I told you about. This is his first time seeing one of your shows.”

Jackpot arched a brow, holding a knowing smile. “Oh. Now, I see why you’re suddenly above being called Pumpkin. So, this is the boy you keep prattling on about.” He motioned his hand, prompting Peter to climb onto the stage as well. The pair shared a glance before Jackpot offered a friendly hand. However, just as Peter readied to accept the gesture, a black wand and golden top hat materialized into existence in the older man’s hands respectively in puffs of smoke. Jackpot with a smirk and raised brow, chuckled. “The first rule of the illusionary arts? Don’t watch the mouth. Watch the hands. Did you enjoy the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s showcase?” 


Tilting his head to the side, Peter dumbly chuckled and nodded. “That’s pretty cool. I’m actually blown away by how realistic the special effects were. Is it magic or technology?”

Trixie inhaled sharply, thrusting the point of her elbow into Peter’s side with enough force to cause the boy to recoil playfully. “Parker! Have you no shame?! You never ask a performer to reveal their secrets!”

Jackpot chuckled, his expression softening. “I appreciate the sentiment, Pumpkin, but do not be so rough. Your friend’s curiosity is endearing. It reminds me of an old cohort of mine.” He waved his hands, causing both objects in his grasp to vanish without a trace. “That is only a fraction of the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s might. Stick around long enough, and you might learn to turn your mind to the spiritual, as I have.”

“So, it’s a secret?” Peter blankly stated, pretending to rub his ribs.

Jackpot nodded, extending his free hand to the young man. “Indeed, but all kidding aside. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister…?”

Smiling, Peter accepted the gesture before both individuals shared a nod and smile. “Peter B. Parker.” Slow to respond, the young boy stared at both the older man and girl’s features intently, narrowing his gaze on their matching violet irises and silver-blue hairstyles. “Has anyone mentioned that you two could pass as twins?”

“I like this one. He is humorous and quite the original thinker,” Jackpot grinned, his thespian-tone never faltering as he glanced at his daughter.

Trixie shrugged, snorting. “Bumpkins does have the occasional bright thought.”

Bemused, Peter’s brow twitched. “Great. Now, I have twice the charm to put up with. Can this day get any better?” Suddenly, Peter’s expression stiffened while his cranium buzzed once more. He alternated his gaze, attempting to locate the source. “What’s happening?”

“Over there!” someone cried out, pointing towards one of the windows high above everyone’s position. A silhouette sat perched on the opening, their image basking in the shadows. That same moment, someone shone one of the studio lights in their direction, and Peter’s complexion paled upon recognizing the spider insignia at the center of their crimson costume. The audience member screamed. “It’s Spider-Man!”

Trixie furrowed her brow. “What’s he doing here?”

“I…” Peter questioned, his mind racing into a flurry before he recollected his thoughts, “have no idea.”

Just as everyone began to murmur amongst themselves, Spider-Man raised his hand. “Everyone, this is a robbery,” he darkly stated, hopping from his vantage point. He landed a few feet away from Jackpot, chuckling before grabbing the man by the collar. As the masked man lifted Trixie’s father from the ground, Peter could only watch with a bewildered gaze as the audience stared at what appeared to be his heroic alter-ego going rogue. Spider-Man tossed Jackpot off the stand and into several boxes of equipment, causing the wood to break in a heap under his weight. “I don’t think you all heard me. Your not-so-friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is robbing the place!”

The surreality of the situation struck Peter’s mind like lightning to a rod, all evident by his slack-jawed expression. “What?!” He soon shook the disbelief from his head before clutching at the straps of his backpack where his costume resided. "All right. I don't know why someone decided to cosplay, but it's time I shut this convention down."

Before any action could occur, Trixie's screams reached his ears and gave him pause. "Peter! What are you doing?!" she cried out, rushing to where her father was hurled. The young man glanced at the girl while she attempted to dig through the pile of shattered wood. "My dad needs help! Stop gawking and do something!"

Peter cursed under his breath, wincing as Spider-Man lifted a guard high overhead and tossed him into a pair of his cohorts. He quickly yielded, joining Trixie’s side. The pair rummaged through the broken equipment, eventually reaching the bottom of the pile, but they paused, sharing bewildered gazes upon finding nothing in place. Suddenly, a hand gently fell over Trixie’s shoulder, and the girl turned, inhaling sharply at the visual of her father. His suit remained undamaged as smoke began to rise from underneath his feet.

Jackpot smirked as his form vanished in the fog. “I’m sorry to make you worry. Never fear! Allow Mysterio to stave off this pest!” he exclaimed, his voice booming throughout the arena. Suddenly, his green and golden costume materialized onto his frame before the bowl shaped into place over his head. Brushing his cape to the side, Mysterio walked towards Spider-Man undeterred. “I heard you were a menace, but I didn’t think you were cowardly enough to attack the good people of Canterlot. How about you face the Great and Powerful Mysterio instead?”

Spider-Man’s masked eyes narrowed before he ran towards Mysterio with a fist raised. However, Mysterio reared back before throwing his hand forward, unleashing a wave of emerald flames. The projectile consumed Spider-Man, sending his form careening across the room until he smashed through the nearest window. The audience watched with glee, cheering as a few police officers stormed into the area. Mysterio lowered into a hunched position, pointing the local law enforcement towards the direction Spider-Man was launched. Meanwhile, as Trixie and the others swarmed Jackpot and congratulated him on his victory, Peter sat back with a grim expression. 

“I thought my nightmare was over. It’s just starting,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

To be continued… 
> Ch. 2 "Even Salt Looks Like Sugar"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Two “Even Salt Looks Like Sugar”

“Just when you think it can’t get any worse, life comes in to remind you how deep the rabbit hole goes,” Jameson firmly stated, stifling the urge to smile as his lip quivered. Clearing his throat, the man recollected himself before turning his attention to the monitor behind his position. An image of Spider-Man filled its screen, showcasing the vigilante physically assaulting several guards, and Jameson could only shake his head in response. “In case some of you missed it, during the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s performance, that wall-crawling freak not only interrupted the show but attempted to rob the innocent patrons in attendance!”

The footage continued, coming to a pause after Spider-Man was consumed by a wave of emerald flames and hurled through the nearest window. “Fortunately, before he could cause any damage, Jackpot, who prefers to go by his stage name, Mysterio…” Jameson stated, trailing off as someone muttered off screen. The man rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “I know it’s the Great and Powerful Mysterio, Jared, but I’m not saying the entire title everytime he is mentioned!” Blinking, Jameson listened further to his colleague, until a vein surfaced along his temple. “Stop comparing us! J. Jonah Jameson rolls off the tongue better! Just ask our sponsors! Now, shut up, Jared!”

Inhaling deeply, Jameson let out a content sigh and grinned while Mysterio waved to the crowd in the background. “If I seem happier than usual, ladies and gentlemen, it’s because nothing brings me more joy than being validated in my efforts and seeing justice prevailing by the end of the day. I’ve been warning you all about Spider-Man since the day he first showed up in New York.” Lifting a finger, the man pointed directly at the camera. “Now, look at him! His ego is so fragile that he’s now openly attacking other performers for being far more entertaining than he ever was! I’m grateful that pompous little hotshot finally picked on someone his own size and got flattened for it!”

Sobering, Jameson narrowed his gaze and removed the thick cigar from the corner of his mouth. “Sadly, our local law enforcement weren’t able to find and detain Spider-Man in the aftermath, meaning he could strike again. As of this morning, the police have issued another warrant for Spider-Man’s arrest and will increase their efforts to apprehend him, should he choose to show his face again.” The older man’s broad smile diminished slightly as he nodded. “If you see Spider-Man, do not engage. Just leave it to the professionals. We will keep you posted on any new developments. This is Just the Facts with J. Jonah Jameson!”







Peter sat in the confines of his room with a blank expression on his face. He glared daggers at the television screen displaying his imposter’s image, while the corner of his mouth curled into a snarl. Aunt May soon peeked her head inside, arching a brow at the sight of her nephew as he repeatedly pressed the rewind and playback button on the remote in his grasp. The process continued for what seemed like minutes, until the device cracked, crumbling with pieces remaining stuck on his palm. May cleared her throat, seemingly freeing the boy from his self-induced trance.

Peter alternated his gaze between what remained of the broken remote and his aunt, chuckling sheepishly. “Uh, don’t worry, I can fix that.” He paused, brushing his hands free before exhaling harshly. “As matter of fact, I bet I can’t! You watched the show! I know it looks bad, but I swear that it wasn’t me! I was there with Trixie when that stupid phony showed up! My name is already mud, and I now have some schmuck impersonating me.” The boy’s eyes widened before he winced, slamming his eyes shut as if expecting a fatal blow to come at any given moment. “You probably already called SHIELD. I wouldn’t blame you, since I went all Man-Spider on everyone! So, get it over with! I know Fury’s around the corner, lurking like the creepy stalker that he is!”

Blinking, May rolled her eyes before she offered a plate of cookies to the boy. “Honey, I watched the video and knew it wasn’t you. Whoever that was is too tall.” After placing the treats down onto the bed, she pointed at the screen. “You were already sitting in the front row with your bright blue-skinned friend. That’s pretty hard to miss.”

“Oh,” Peter dumbly muttered, trailing off as the fumes emitting from the batch of cookies entered his senses. The boy quickly yielded to his never-ending hunger and began scarfing down the treats, practically inhaling them within seconds. Once the tray was clean, Peter shrugged. “Well, I’m sure some of the others will think I’m the bad guy.”

“Like the creepy stalker?” a man’s voice deadpanned, causing both Peter and May to jump in place. They both looked around, attempting to find the source. Before long, Peter’s eyes widened at the sight of his phone’s screen lighting up, with Fury’s face at the center. “If I knew or assumed you went off the rails of your own choosing, I’d have my team on top of you a thousand times over.”

Exasperated, Peter took his phone in hand while his brow twitched involuntarily. “You know you aren’t helping the creepy vibes case when you pull stuff like this, right?” Glancing to the side, Peter grumbled under his breath. “You’re usually far more intimate than this. What made you call instead of invading my physical personal space?”

Ever stoic, Fury merely huffed. “Believe it or not, Parker, you aren’t the most important thing in my life. I have many obligations that I have to uphold, outside of one kid in an isolated town.” The man seemingly smirked as Peter grumbled incoherently, allowing his cheek to rest against his fist. “If it's any consolation, I knew it wasn’t you that attacked the show. The fake didn’t move quite like you normally do.”

Pausing, as if contemplating Fury’s words, Peter smugly grinned. “Oh? I see what you mean. Like, the imposter didn’t have that Spidey razzle dazzle and flare? The way I move is like an art?”

“Hell no! I mean he didn’t twitch around like a giant bug,” Fury bluntly declared, all hints of humor leaving his voice before a mock smile surfaced on his face, “Best of luck figuring this out, kid.”

The phone’s screen went dark, as an awkward silence filled the room. Bemused, Peter stared blankly at nothing in particular and groaned inwardly. “I really, really hate that guy.”







Clouds spread over Canterlot City, hiding the sun beneath a gray blanket. Peter slowly approached the arena with a furrowed brow, staring intently at the hundreds of citizens that stood in several lines outside of the ticket booths. His mind raced, attempting to make sense of the situation while he pocketed Otto’s shades. However, before the boy could truly sink into his thoughts, a dainty blue hand reached out until it was inches from his face and waved repeatedly.

“Earth to Parker!” Trixie loudly hummed, managing a smile once the boy's bewildered gaze met her own. The girl shook her head before placing both hands over her hips, nodding confidently. “I’m amazed, Bumpkins! You actually showed up and on time! Keep it up, and you’ll soon be back in Trixie’s good graces! You should–” she paused, narrowing her gaze, “When was the last time you cut your hair?”

“Does it matter? I’ve cut it once since I moved here. It’s hardly any longer than usual,” Peter snapped, grumbling while running a hand through his hair.

Trixie frowned, shaking her head. “Please keep it trimmed. I think you’re much more handsome when it's short.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’ll just– Wait, really?” Peter whispered, his brain slowly but surely registering the compliment. 

Stammering, Trixie huffed while the temperature in her face rose until her cheeks glowed to a shade of pink. “Stop making everything out to be rocket science. Just cut your stupid hair as soon as you get the chance. Trixie will not associate herself with a slob.”

Peter poked his lips out before raising his hands, waving them with mock enthusiasm. “What’re you? My aunt? Eh, whatever.  I’ll make sure to look presentable for Her Highness.” 

“It would be most appreciated,” Trixie hummed, nodding earnestly.

Exhaling harshly, the boy stole a glance at the crowd and security guards keeping them in line. “Meh. Anyways, I’m surprised your father still wants to keep the show going, after what happened with Spider-Man.”

“Hardly anything deters my father, once his mind is set. If anything, the inconvenience seems to only motivate him further,” Trixie huffed, motioning her hand to beckon the boy to follow before turning towards the nearest entrance into the arena. Soon, the pair made their way inside after consulting with security. The second they were alone, Trixie crossed her arms and stopped in her tracks. “Keep this between us, Parker, but I just know that whoever attacked my father was not Spider-Man.”

Taken aback, Peter’s eyes widened at the statement. “Um, what makes you say that? It sure looked like it to me.”

Scoffing, the girl vehemently shook her head while waving a finger disapprovingly. “Only because you are uneducated and misinformed, but Trixie is well-informed, with a keen eye for detail.”

Retrieving a rolled up poster from her jacket pocket, she stretched out the paper and held it inches from Peter’s face. At the center was an image of Spider-Man, garbed in a much simpler version of his costume, without the white extensions. He raised a motorcycle high overhead, balancing it with a finger. A wave of nostalgia rushed over Peter as he read the ‘Sensational Spider-Man’ labeled at the top of the poster, evident by his softened gaze. However, Trixie turned around and rolled the poster back up, freeing the boy from his self-induced trance.

“Before he came to Canterlot City, Spider-Man was a live performer and wrestler. No matter the stunt, he always engaged with the crowd and opponent with verbal cues,” she stated, brushing her hands together.

“So, he talks a lot?” Peter dumbly suggested, frowning.

Trixie shook her head, exhaling. “Yes, but unlike your pointless babbling, Spider-Man’s banter is witty and charismatic! During his debut with the undefeated Bonesaw, he used mental warfare and got in his head!”

Arching a brow, Peter forced a chuckle under his breath and used a free hand to hide his smile. “You sound like a fan. Plus, I didn’t think you liked pro wrestling. I still like it myself.”

“Then you appreciate it unlike most! We all know it’s scripted, but the performance is real! It’s acting with athleticism, stupid!” the girl exclaimed, clenching her hand into a fist. After a brief duration, she inhaled deeply and sighed before glancing to the side. “I still am a fan. It’s just a shame that he was forced to retire from show business, just as his career was beginning to blossom. That scoundrel, Jameson, gave him such bad PR that he was virtually unhireable. It didn’t help that he refused to reveal his identity, even then, but considering how bad his reputation is now, it might be a blessing in disguise.”

Peter furrowed his brow and hummed. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Trixie soon continued walking ahead, holding her gaze at the ceiling. “You’re right, whatever they may be. Just do me a favor. I know you listen to his podcast, but take it from Trixie when she says take anything that Jameson says with a mountain of salt, especially when it comes to Spider-Man.”

Slow to respond, Peter allowed his smile to show as a flurry of thoughts ran rampant through his mind. “What is it about Spider-Man having the most unlikely of fans? I mean, Flash, Fluttershy, and even Trixie? It’s so weird.” The boy cleared his throat before joining back with the girl, arching a brow soon afterward, “So, is that why you called me here? To talk about Spider-Man?”

“It wasn’t just that. Trixie wanted to personally tell you that she got us extra tickets for tomorrow night’s show. It’s not fair that your first time seeing my father’s performance was ruined by an imposter trying to make Spider-Man look bad,” she stated, her usually firm voice falling to a whisper.

Peter scratched the back of his head sheepishly, stammering. “Wow. That’s actually really nice of you. Uh… thanks.”

Snorting, Trixie waved a hand dismissively. “I mean, don’t get the wrong idea. My father insisted, and he really wanted to talk with you personally. I haven’t the foggiest idea why. He’s being unusually tight-lipped about it.”

Bemused, Peter’s blank expression returned. “I should have known. There’s always a string attached with you. Oh, well.”

Trixie immediately stopped in her tracks once, snapping around until she stood inches away from Peter. She glared at him, raising a finger objectively. “Stop right there. I’ve put up with this for some time, and it needs addressing! Is it really so hard that I want to see a show with you, and that my father being insistent on seeing you are two entirely different matters?”

Snorting, Peter growled. “You just told me not to get the wrong idea. What are you even going on about?”

Suddenly, Trixie exhaled at the top of her lungs and threw her hands over her face. “You are so dense and stuck up! It’s obvious that I like hanging out with you, even when you’re a complete jerk half of the time!”

“Maybe if you didn’t treat me like a minion most of the time, I’d lighten up! You always contradict yourself!” Peter exclaimed, standing his ground. “I can never tell if you like or hate me!”

“Perhaps I feel both ways about you!” Trixie exclaimed, huffing before resuming her path down the hall. The boy steadily followed in silence, with both individuals visibly agitated with each other. However, Trixie let out a harsh sigh after a few seconds. “I wouldn’t waste my time if I didn’t like you. It’s just that you make it really easy to hate you sometimes. Anytime we try to hang out with you, there’s an excuse to avoid us on your end. It’s like we’re an inconvenience but… I’m still trying.” 

Peter opened his mouth, ready to respond, but nothing could be said, as the girl’s words sank into the depths of his mind. Similar sayings from Doctor Octavious, Spitfire, and Aria also echoed throughout his cranium, bringing up his self-isolation tendencies. Peter’s brow lowered, reflecting on choices made since coming to Canterlot City, and he found truth in Trixie’s words. A desolate sigh escaped from the boy’s mouth before he folded his arms, lowering his head shamefully.

Eventually, the pair reached a door at the end of the hallway with a golden star placed at the center. “Either way, try to behave yourself,” Trixie firmly declared as she placed a hand over the knob, pausing to shift her line of sight towards the boy, “Like Trixie stated, you come off as abrasive and rude half of the time. For once, try not to put your foot in your mouth.”

Peter’s frown deepened at the comment, prompting Trixie to return the gesture in kind. The pair stood in this staredown for what seemed like an eternity, a classic case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. However, Peter eventually yielded, while a defeated and exasperated groan escaped from his mouth. Bearing his teeth, the boy’s face cracked as he forced a grin, and Trixie nodded, seemingly satisfied with the act. Soon, they entered the room and caught sight of Jackpot sitting in front of a mirror.

Swinging his head to the side, the older man let out a content sigh upon sharing a glance with his daughter. “Ah! Excellent timing, Pumpkin! And you brought Mister Parker!” he exclaimed, standing from his seat before offering his hand. “I do humbly apologize for what happened. I was simply swarmed after what had happened.” The boy accepted the gesture, giving the lightest squeeze he could muster, yet Jackpot winced, shaking feeling back into his hand once they parted. However, he still managed a chuckle. “I must say that is quite a grip you’ve got.”

Stammering, Peter’s mind raced as he chuckled sheepishly. “Oops! Sorry! I’m just a little nervous. Spider-Man attacked you, and you pushed him back like it was nothing! How did you manage to do that?” He paused, furrowing his brow. “Do you even know why he attacked you?”

Jackpot smirked, twirling his fingers until flickers of emerald flame danced above his hand. “Years of practice in the art of predigitation. Unfortunately, I am unable to share my secrets.”

“Just as I mentioned before!” Trixie huffed, frowning deeply as she stared intently at Peter, “Never pry about a magician’s secrets!”

Chuckling, Jackpot waved a hand dismissively. “Do try to relax, Pumpkin. Curiosity towards the unknown is healthy.” The man cleared his throat before straightening his posture. An air of seriousness came over him, evident by his stern expression. “There is something I’d like to ask of you, and forgive me if it’s rather sudden. My next showcase isn’t until tomorrow night, and my tour of Canterlot City will only last a few days, before I am forced to resume my travels. Would you like to join our family for dinner tonight?”

“What?!” Trixie blurted out, her complexion growing cold, “F-Father! I-Is that really a good idea?”

Oblivious, Peter blinked while scratching the back of his head. “Really? I’m flattered, but are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Nonsense! I’d be happy to make your acquaintance personally!” Jackpot reaffirmed with glee, smiling widely, “My daughter talks about you so much, and she’s even mentioned your insatiable appetite. I implore you to humor me!”

Slow to respond, Peter hesitantly nodded. “Sure thing. That, uh, sounds nice.”

Jackpot’s expression brightened, apparent by his toothy grin. “Excellent! I’ll make accommodations! Would seven o’clock suffice?” Just before anything else could be said, the man’s brow furrowed as the earpiece within his lobe beeped. Raising a finger, Jackpot hastily made his way towards the door before facing Peter once more. “Excuse me. I am needed elsewhere, but we’ll see you tonight! Good day!”

Both men shared a nod and wave before Jackpot exited the vicinity. Once certain the older individual was out of hearing range, Peter hummed inwardly and managed a smile. “You know, I was expecting your dad to be a spitting image of you, but he seems super friendly. It’s actually a little jarring. It’s weird that I’m actually looking forward to having dinner.”

Trixie whined, biting down on her lip. “I don’t know, Peter. This probably isn’t such a good idea.”

Tilting his head to the side, a befuddled expression filled the boy’s face. “What’s with you all of a sudden? Usually, you push for me to try hanging out. I mean, you’ve never mentioned your parents or your home. From what I can tell, you have a cool dad.”

“Certainly, yes. My father is excellent, if not a little overbearing,” Trixie murmured, crossing her arms, while her gaze lowered to the ground shamefully.

Peter shrugged, chuckling. “It just means he loves you. My Aunt May’s the same way, so I get that it’s embarrassing. After tonight, I’ll invite you over and make it even. May would love to meet you. Plus, you’ll get to see Aria’s room. She’s surprisingly a neat freak.” 

A soft smile formed on the girl’s face. “I… Trixie will hold you to that.”

A buzzing sound emitted from Peter’s back pocket, prompting the boy to slide the phone free and into his grasp. Scrolling through the small wall of text on its screen, he nodded and huffed. “Speaking of, May needs some eggs. I’ll head home for a bit and catch you later.”

Trixie’s demeanor continued to shrink as her shoulders slumped, but she shook her head, clearing her throat with a forced cough. “Yes. Go home and freshen up. The last thing I want is for you to come dressed like the mongrel you are.”

“Fine. I’ve got a pair of slacks I can iron out,” Peter barked, walking past Trixie. Halfway through the door, a thought struck the boy’s mind, and he grinned, nodding. “I just realized that I’ll get to meet your mom, too. See ya later.”

A nervous hint of laughter escaped from the girl as she watched Peter’s image fade from sight. Soon, a sense of dread overtook Trixie, apparent by her softening gaze. She stood in silence with her arms crossed, cursing the fates for leaving her to her own devices. 



Once certain no one could hear her, Trixie inhaled deeply and let out a defeated sigh. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of…”

To be continued… 
> Ch. 3 "Oil and Water. Milk and Honey"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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…
> Ch. 4 "Truth Beneath the Mask"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four “The Truth Beneath the Mask”

As thousands of spectators gathered into the stadium, lights beamed across the vicinity. News media and local outlets talked about the upcoming show, each broadcasting portraits of the leading star. However, Jackpot himself withdrew from their eyes, staying cooped in his dressing room. Seldom, he sat near the back by a mirror with his face buried in his hands. 

Inhaling deeply before sighing, the man stole a glance at his reflection before growling under his breath. Suddenly, a soft breeze brushed by him briefly, prompting Jackpot to glance to the side. A fair-skinned woman with large violet irises walked to his side with her arms crossed. However, Jackpot’s demeanor remained unchanged as he let out a dejected groan.

The woman brushed a hand through her silver-blue hair, scoffing. “So melancholy. At the very least, pick yourself up. It’s pathetic.” Her expression unfaltering, she scoffed while shifting her attention to her own reflection. “I’m still not happy about you and Trixie inviting that hoodlum over for dinner without talking with me about it first.”

“Because you wouldn’t have given him a chance if we had, Spectacle,” Jackpot murmured, glancing from the corner of his eye. “His name’s Peter, by the way. He’s a good kid, and the gift he gave her told me everything I needed to know. Our little girl is important to him, and Trixie likes him just as much, if not more. Isn’t that enough? You know how hard it is for her to make friends.”

Her nose scrunched. “Of course not. From what I can see, he’s an uncultured mongrel. The last thing we need is for our daughter to be influenced by such a character. I know from personal experience where that road leads.” Spectacle arched a brow, bemused. “Besides, just because he actually enjoyed your ludicrous projects doesn’t mean a thing. It only enforces what I know, Quentin.”

Exasperated, Jackpot shook his head as he tapped a finger impatiently against the desk. “Why are you here, Spectacle?”

The woman’s frown deepened. “I know that he called you last night.” A long silence filled the room as Jackpot’s gaze fell, his firm confidence evaporating instantaneously. Spectacle edged closer as her expression twisted into a scowl. “You assured me that Oscorp wouldn’t bother us again. What do they want?”

“One last job, and I promise you that Norman will leave our family alone,” Quentin reaffirmed, pausing to glance about his surroundings before lowering his mouth near the woman’s ear. “Apparently, they want me to bring them Spider-Man dead or alive.”

Undeterred, Spectacle scoffed before standing. “Of course. I warned you not to revolve your act around that ruffian, but you just had to be as grandiose as possible. Now you’ve garnered the wrong type of attention. Again.” Throwing her hands up in the air, the woman turned away from Jackpot and paced in place. “First, you walk away from a great-paying job in Oscorp and then you do the same with Hollywood, all because of your arrogant pride and showmanship!”

“It’s never been that simple, Spectacle,” Jackpot muttered, growling under his breath.

Quentin readied to stand, but Spectacle raised her hand, sharply pointing a finger in his direction. Violet sparkling energy ignited from her digit, illuminating as several objects in the room began to levitate from the ground. Inhaling deeply, the woman closed her eyes in an attempt to recollect herself. After what seemed like an eternity, everything eased back into place before the magical energy emitting from Spectacle steadily dissipated from sight. 

“Look, I’ve supported you through everything and sacrificed my dreams for you,” Spectacle whispered through gritted teeth, holding her trembling hands up. “We changed our identities, and I even used the mystic arts to change your appearance– something that even affected our daughter! Now you are telling me that it was all for nothing?!” Growling under her breath, the woman narrowed her venomous gaze onto the man. “It’s enough that you have contaminated that child with your foolish dreams and lack of talent, but I have to just accept yet another empty promise.”

Wincing as the truth behind the woman’s words cut through deeper than any blade possible, Quentin could only bite down on his lip and nod. “This is not an empty promise. After today, I will reach unparalleled heights of stardom as the Great and Powerful Mysterio! I will bring Norman Osborn Spider-Man, and we can retire from the future profits of all the upcoming shows!”

As if somewhat satisfied, Spectacle crossed her arms and huffed. “For your sake, you’d better.”

Jackpot leaned in, ready to press his lips against the woman’s cheek, but she vanished from sight in a burst of light before he could hope to make contact. Yet, the man simply shrugged before eyeing his Mysterio costume and helmet across the room. Just as he walked towards the item, Jackpot paused upon catching sight of a photograph placed at the corner of his mirror. Taking the picture in hand, the man’s eyes softened at the image of himself and Trixie as she waved at the camera. Both individuals shared a smile, and Jackpot’s gaze lowered shamefully before he slid the photo deep into his pocket.

“Trixie,” Quentin whispered, glancing towards the ceiling, “I hope you can forgive your father someday.”







Meanwhile, Peter sat at the front row underneath the stage with a distant look in his eyes. The audience had nearly filled the coliseum to capacity with late attendees finding their seats. The alternating rainbow patterned lights beamed brightly, and music echoed throughout the entire vicinity, quaking through the floors and walls. Peter placed both hands over his throbbing ears before slamming his eyes shut in a vain attempt to decompress his overwhelmed senses. Each wave pierced his equilibrium, sending bolts of pain searing through his cranium.

However, everything numbed as a tantalizing aroma seeped into his nostrils. He shot up and glanced to the side, quickly locating the source. Trixie stood behind the boy with a large bucket of popcorn, fresh fumes exuding from the buttery treat. Blinking, Peter stared at the food with a widened gaze before inhaling sharply at the sight of a pair of hot dogs sitting atop the pile of popcorn.

Trixie sat the food on Peter’s lap, practically burying the boy, but she simply huffed, brushing a hand through her silver-blue hair. “The lines are absolutely dreadful, but Trixie always finds a way! Be grateful, Bumpkins. Besides, I am aware of how much you like popcorn.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this!” Peter declared, peeking his head over the popcorn mountain in his unwitting grasp. His brow furrowed as he alternated his gaze between the food and girl. “Did you take out a loan to pay for all this?! Do you know how expensive concession food is? You practically pay triple the price for half the size!” Wiggling in place, Peter struggled to reach his pocket without disrupting the delicate balance of popcorn and hot dogs in his wake. “How much do I owe you?”

Humming, Trixie waved a hand dismissively before finally taking the seat next to the boy. “Nothing. Consider this my thanks for the pitiful… yet thoughtful gift,” she whispered, her tone inaudible. Trixie glanced at Peter, who arched a brow as if he actually heard what she said without issue. “I’m just saying thanks.”

“So… it’s not poisoned?” Peter questioned, squinting at Trixie.

Cursing under her breath, the girl forced a haughty laugh from her mouth and turned to the side in a hasty attempt to hide her burning face. “S-Stop ruining everything with your terrible sense of humor, Bumpkins! I have VIP privileges as the main star’s daughter, and that includes free refreshments! It’s a no-brainer, but considering Trixie is talking to you, she understands that common sense eludes you. Now hurry up and eat. I almost stained my clothes walking with so much butter and grease.”

Oblivious, Peter simply shrugged before wiping the drool from his face. He paused, sharing one more glance with the girl, but Trixie shook her head, motioning a hand. As prompted, Peter grinned while thrusting his hands into the bucket. A neighboring bystander watched with a mouth agape as the mountain of popcorn crumbled into nothingness within minutes. Before long, the hotdogs had become casualties of the storm, fading in a pair of chomps. With the bucket emptied, Peter licked the salt and butter from his fingers. Right afterward, Trixie casually offered the boy a large cup of soda without glancing in his direction, and Peter accepted the item without hesitation, downing the beverage in a matter of seconds.

The girl’s eyes softened as her lips curled into a warm smile. “You look so happy when you eat.”

“Th–Thanks, I guess?” Peter stated before throwing a hand over his mouth, somewhat containing a belch.

Rolling her eyes, Trixie eased into her seat and turned her attention to the stage without losing her smile. “You’re welcome. Also, you are the very epitome of disgusting and gluttony.”

Just as Peter chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to respond, the entire world around him steadily grew mute. The center of his cranium buzzed, humming quietly as Peter slowly lifted his gaze. He shifted his line of sight throughout the audience before focusing on the ceiling window. In response, the buzzing morphed into a high-pitched wail, slowly growing in volume. Peter clutched at his pulsating temple, wincing as the internal blaring alarm overwhelmed his senses. Eventually, the ringing ceased and allowed the boy to stand from his seat. However, Trixie shot him a glance and arched her brow, as if questioning his intent without saying a word.

That same second, Peter grabbed his empty cup and shook it until the ice within rattled. “Just going to grab a refill. Those are free, right?”

Trixie pecked away at her phone’s screen, furrowing her brow before eventually nodding. “Yes, but make sure to hurry. The show’s about to begin!”

Minutes passed before the lights within the arena dimmed with one beam centering onto the stage. Suddenly, smoke rose from the floor and spread throughout the vicinity. Thunder rumbled across the arena, sending tremors coursing across the floor and walls. A silhouette of an individual rose from the smoke with their arms stretched out to the side. The audience erupted into applause once their image cleared, revealing the Great and Powerful Mysterio doning his signature armor and helmet. 

“Thank you all for coming to yet another masterful performance by the Great and Powerful Mysterio!” he boasted, his voice echoing throughout the vicinity. 

Twirling a finger, green smoke erupted from his palm before emerald flames sparked out. The fire dissipated from sight, revealing a sword in the man’s grasp. The audience clamored as he spun the blade by its handle over his finger effortlessly, all inhaling sharply once the weapon vanished in a burst of light. Mysterio held out his hands, chuckling before flicking his wrist. Suddenly, a bouquet of roses snapped into existence in his grasp. While everyone clapped approvingly, the man gently tossed the flowers to Trixie, and the girl could only smile upon catching the item, prompting Mysterio to gesture a bow to the audience.

Straightening his posture, Mysterio stood upright. “Now for my next trick–!”

“It’ll be to drop dead!” a voice exclaimed from above, prompting everyone to avert their attention to the ceiling. 

The glass suddenly shattered as something burst through, causing those caught underneath to throw their arms over their heads in an attempt to shield themselves from the sharp debris. The individual landed just a few feet away from Mysterio, pointing a finger sharply in his direction, and the audience began screaming upon recognizing the white spider emblem over his crimson and blue attire. 

“It’s the Spider-Man!” a member of the audience exclaimed, sending everyone into an upheaval. Many of the spectators stood from their seats, rushing for the nearest array of exits, and others took out their phones, recording the standoff between those on the stage. “Everyone run!”

“No, it’s not,” Trixie whispered under her breath. She stood in place beneath the stage with a furrowed brow, never averting her gaze from Spider-Man. “That’s the imposter!”

Mysterio shook his head. “You haven’t learned a thing, but the Great Mysterio is more than happy to educate you.” Emerald flames simmered from his hands. “You don’t want any part of this.”

“You got lucky last time! Now I’m taking your money and your life!” Spider-Man stated, clenching his hand into a fist.

However, before anyone could hope to react, an individual swung across the rafters on a strand. Relinquishing their hold on the thread, they flipped across the air gracefully until they managed to land on the other end of the stage in a perched stance. Both Mysterio and Spider-Man stared at the intruder for what seemed like an eternity, and the audience shared their bewilderment, murmuring amongst themselves as they took in the sight of yet another Spider-Man. Yet, this one seemed considerably smaller in stature in comparison to the first.

“They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I’d say what you’re doing is a straight mockery!” he declared, tilting his head to the side. Lifting a finger, the smaller Spider-Man waved it objectively. “No witty repertoire? A snappy comeback? I’m giving you the easiest softball here. Come on! If you’re going to be me, you have to crack a joke. Yeah. You’re clearly a phony!”

“Two of them now? But which one’s the real one?” one of the spectators questioned.

Another member of the audience stood, pointing at the smaller of the two. “That one’s the faker! His costume looks so cheap!”

A long silence filled the stage as Peter’s eye twitched, his hand covering the entirety of his face. “Why do I even try?”

The larger Spider-Man alternated his gaze between his smaller counterpart and Mysterio, his masked eyes squinting before he ripped a steel beam from the stage. The man hurled it overhead at the audience, forcing Peter to leap forward with his hands extended. Just as he captured the item, landing to place it away from any bystanders, the imposter sprinted by Mysterio and burst through the exit door on stage. Quick to react, Jackpot gave chase and pursued the man. 

Security readied to do the same, but a wall of flame erupted from within, rendering the pathway inaccessible via burning wood and steel. Smoke sped out from the debris, consuming the entirety of the stage. Peter alternated his gaze wildly, eventually settling his line of sight at a vent positioned above the door the two men took. 

He turned, watching as the audience eventually relented and began to exit the arena. “Sorry that the imposter ruined the show for you guys again. Talk with management about getting a refund. Maybe.” Nodding, Spider-Man jumped towards the vent before managing to slide into the opening. “You didn’t hear that from me!”

Meanwhile, Trixie watched with a narrowed gaze. Slowly but surely, the corner of her mouth curled into a smirk, and she nodded firmly. “Now that’s more like it! True showmanship!”

Elsewhere, Peter burst through another pair of double doors before skidding to a halt. He searched around, his masked eyes widening at the sight of Mysterio laying face down on the ground. Rushing over, Peter knelt down over the man, but as he readied to help, his cranium blared. Yielding to his senses, the boy spun around with a punch, and his fist crashed into his imposter’s jaw, causing a loud crack to echo throughout the vicinity. The force of the blow sent the larger Spider-Man careening through the air until he spun into the nearest brick wall. 

“Oh my God! No!” Spider-Man cried out, wincing as he clutched at his fist. 

Just as the boy sprinted towards the imposter, a metallic thud echoed before electrical currents sparked from the man’s body. Peter watched as the imposter’s body twitched in place with gurgling sounds repeating. Slowly but surely, the boy approached the carcass with a furrowed gaze until they were only inches apart. Reaching out, he removed the being’s mask, revealing a blank yet metallic infrastructure.

“A robot?” Spider-Man whispered, poking through the interior wiring and design. Inhaling deeply before sighing, Peter shook his head. “Thank God. I have to be more careful. My Spider-Sense makes me too trigger happy, and I might have beheaded this guy if he wasn’t a bot.” 

Smoke had spread throughout the entire area, concealing everything on the ground level. However, Spider-Man staggered in place as his eyes suddenly grew heavy. He lowered to a knee, shaking his head in an attempt to recollect his senses. Static had consumed his hearing, causing the world to grow mute. Stumbling to an upright stance, Spider-Man managed to make his way back to Mysterio, but as he reached out to the man, his body vanished from sight, dissolving into the earth like sand.

“I really wish you had just stayed home,” a distorted voice called out, causing Peter to look around aimlessly. Darkness had filled the sky, leaving Spider-Man in an empty void of smoke. The boy continued to inhale the fumes, coughing as his vision continued to blur, but Mysterio stood behind him with his arms crossed, cackling before his image blended into the darkness. “It’s nothing personal. Just know you will be the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s greatest triumph.”

The ground beneath Spider-Man’s feet crumbled away, sending him plummeting into an endless abyss until he crashed through masonry and earth. Shards of stones scattered from the impact as a cloud of dust spread. Peter struggled to stand, inhaling sharply while Mysterio levitated over his position. Suddenly, the man laughed maniacally while his image split and multiplied. The process repeated until half a dozen copies stood in their wake. Each snapped their hands forward, unleashing waves of emerald flames onto Spider-Man. The fires engulfed the boy, searing into his flesh, and he screamed at the top of his lungs, attempting to stagger free from the blaze.

One of the Mysterios snapped their fingers, causing a meteorite to materialize into existence, and the stone crashed into Spider-Man, erupting into a blast. The scenery spiraled out of space, morphing until several tombstones rose from the ground. A vicious crack echoed through the vicinity as Peter’s body whipped into the air, pinwheeling before bouncing to the earth. He glanced at the nearest grave, finding ‘Here lies Spider-Man, the World’s Biggest Menace’ inscribed onto the marble, and Jackpot soon appeared instantly behind the boy without his armor or helmet, shaking his head sadly.

“Do you really believe you are a hero? Laughable,” he declared, his voice distorting further. “You are just a showman struggling to find relevance, and the world just laughs at your efforts.”

Thrusting his foot forward, Jackpot kicked Spider-Man squarely in the chest, and Peter fell into the grave’s opening, screaming as he plummeted into another abyss. The environment distorted from sight, transforming into a pit of smoke. Spider-Man crashed to the earth onto his shoulders, grimacing in pain as he clutched at the back of his head. Jackpot materialized into existence, walking towards the boy while flames rose from his front. Peter stumbled to his feet, backpedaling to avoid the embers. Mysterio raised his hand, causing the flames to dissipate, and Spider-Man stopped in his tracks, taking in bated breaths. His cranium buzzed, vision blurred, and senses disoriented, Peter stared up at Jackpot.

“It’s easy to fool everyone when they’re already fooling themselves,” Jackpot harshly stated, pointing a finger at Spider-Man. “I was stupid to believe that I could ever live a normal life without having to resort to… this.” Inhaling deeply before letting out a low sigh, the man pursed his lips and nodded. “But for what it's worth, I truly am sorry, Spider-Man. What happens next… isn’t personal.”

Spider-Man’s masked eyes furrowed at Mysterio’s words. Suddenly, the smoke cleared and the surrounding environment dissolved. The sun emerged from the smog, and Peter found himself standing at the center of a bridge. His cranium erupted with a blaring alarm, prompting the boy to weakly turn to the side, but he couldn’t react as a speeding force slammed into his frame, taking him away in an instant. Mysterio simply watched as a bullet train had run the boy over, sending his body spiraling over the edge of the bridge and into the river waiting beneath. His body sank into the deep waters lifelessly, and Jackpot stood with an unreadable expression, his shoulders sinking.

Pressing the side of an earpiece, Mysterio let out a dejected groan. “It’s done, Norman. I know you’re tracking me. Spider-Man’s body is at my location. Move fast before his body sinks to the bottom of the Hudson.”







Doctor Octavious sat at the center of his laboratory, pecking away at his keyboard as he centered his attention on the computer monitor. Meanwhile, Spitfire stood at the other side of the room, straining while she performed lunges in place. Both individuals performed their tasks for minutes until a soft set of knocks were heard at the door. Otto furrowed his brow at the sound, easing himself from his seat. However, the door flew open before he could reach it, and an individual collapsed onto the floor in a heap, water dripping from his frame. 

“Egad!” Otto exclaimed, his eyes widening beneath his shades upon recognizing the spider insignia on the being’s back. Blood poured from a pair of gashes over his face and torso. Spitfire stopped what she was doing, inhaling sharply at the sight. Both individuals tended to the boy, carefully lifting his bruised body from the ground. Otto quickly shut the door to the lab before removing Peter’s bloodied mask from his head. “Peter! What happened?”

Lifting a hand, Peter lifted his gaze while using his forearm to wipe away blood from his bruised lip. “Tell me everything you know about Mysterio.”

To be continued…
> Ch. 5 "The Road Less Traveled"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Five “The Road Less Traveled”

Octavious stood over a table with Peter’s costume stretched out, eyeing the attire carefully under a magnifying glass. The spandex was torn and burned in sections, evident by the singes spread throughout. Yet, the costume remained intact just enough to be practically wearable, revealing only bits of torso, chest, and thigh through small tears. The man rubbed a finger over the white armored pieces, each showing little to no damage. 

“I must say the armor is made of a sturdy and fascinating material. It clearly aided in your protection,” Otto stated, narrowing his gaze on the material. He paused, glancing in the boy’s direction. “How are you feeling?”

Spitfire had finished strapping an ice pack onto Peter’s shoulder, concealing a visible bruise. Meanwhile, cream had been eased over several patches of pink flesh, where clear indications of deep burns were. Gashes began to seal themselves shut, and some swellings steadily dissipated from sight. Lastly, the bruises on Peter’s face and mouth remained, prompting Spitfire to bandage and treat each accordingly.

“I feel like I got hit by a train, Doc,” Peter bluntly spat, cursing sharply once Spitfire guided an alcoholic swab over the swollen lump on his cheek. Hissing, the boy glared at the woman. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

Dismissing the comment, Spitfire inhaled deeply before sighing. “Can it, smartass. Though to be fair, I’d be pissed too if I took a bullet train to the face.” The woman’s demeanor softened as she cupped Peter’s chin in her hands, making certain to avoid any of his open wounds. She paused to analyze his structure further with a furrowed brow. “The fact that you’re still in one piece, let alone alive, is a miracle in itself.”

Otto nodded, humming. “Outside of some bruising, lacerations, burns, and a concussion, I’d say you came off fairly well, given the severity of your circumstances.”

Arching a brow, Spitfire huffed. “It sounds like you were completely caught off guard. How is that possible, with your tingle-thing?”

Peter shook his head. “Spider-Sense, and it’s been working a bit too well, since my whole Man-Spider episode.” The boy rubbed a finger over his aching temple, exhaling. “I’m spending most of my time just trying to tune it out, so I can think straight.”

A dark glint flickered over Otto’s eyes as he peeked over his shades. “The idea that you withstood such physical trauma while remaining soundly intact shows you are truly a marvel of evolution!”

A desolate groan escaped from Peter’s mouth, matched only by his blank and exasperated stare. “Every time you do that, it gets scarier.”

Upon receiving a glare from Spitfire, Octavious forcefully cleared his throat. “Apologies, Mister Parker. The saying ‘time and place’ applies here.” Crossing his arms, the man diverted his attention from the costume and faced the boy with a stern expression.  “I just hate that my old colleague would do such a thing. From the DNA I managed to save from the residue, you were drugged by a very potent hallucinogenic agent.”

Peter gagged, shaking his head. “I’m surprised anything survived. I’d rather get set on fire again than take another dip in the Hudson.”

“How potent are we talking?” Spitfire questioned, arching a brow. 

Otto straightened his shades with a finger, huffing. “Enough to drive three bull elephants insane. All the more reason that I’m amazed with Parker’s resilience, considering he is still acclimating to his body’s recent biological changes.”

Taken aback, Spitfire’s mouth fell agape. “Three bull elephants?! That’s a bit excessive. This guy’s no ordinary illusionist, if he’s packing that kind of heat. Why go after Spider-Man with such force?” Trailing off, the woman frowned while staring intently at Octavius, and her glare only deepened as his demeanor remained undeterred. “You said that you two used to work together. What kind of work did you do exactly?”

His complexion paled, evident by the blue stain filling his cheeks, but Otto cleared his throat, turning to the side. “The kind of work one with a conscience would be ashamed of, but that is a story for another day.”

Just as Spitfire readied to pry further, Peter removed her hand from his shoulder and leaned forward. “So, he worked with Oscorp. I’m noticing that’s becoming a common denominator as of late. What else can you tell me about Jackpot, if that’s even his name? I remember you mentioning that he possibly changed it.” His vision spun momentarily, prompting the boy to slam his eyes shut. Eventually, his equilibrium settled back into place, and Peter groaned, holding an exhausted glare towards Octavious. “I’ll be happy once my Spider-Sense acclimates. I just couldn’t focus while Mysterio bombarded me.”

Otto pursed his lip, nodding. “His real name is Quentin Beck, and he is a former employee of Oscorp. We were former colleagues and coworkers under Norman Osborn. Beck was brilliant in engineering and robotics.”

Lifting a finger, Peter scoffed. “I found that out the hard way. The fake Spider-Man that had been ruining his shows was a robot. I managed to decommission it, but from what little I saw, the design was unlike anything I saw before. A very intricate design and surprisingly lifelike.”

Humming, Otto rubbed at his chin while furrowing his brow. “It would appear that he has improved the technology considerably since leaving Oscorp. Originally, Quentin was confined to using small drones that he controlled remotely, and Beck also designed special toxins to disorient those around him. To say he used them creatively would be an understatement.” Slow to respond further, Octavious tapped a finger against his forearm. “I recall Quentin always considering the usage of gas rather… crass, but the higher-ups only pushed for him to use it further.”

Frowning, Peter’s eyes widened as a thought came into mind. “You said drones. That explains the illusions. It’s all holograms! It’s how he gassed me… and set me on fire. Those drones were masking everything!” The corner of the boy’s mouth curled into a smile, before he winced involuntarily, throwing a hand over his swollen jaw. “It’s not magic! It’s just high-level technology! Smoke and mirrors!”

Spitfire tilted her head to the side, blinking. “And that’s a good thing?”

Peter waved a hand dismissively once the throbbing pain coursing through his face ceased. “High-end technology actually makes sense and is grounded in reality. Magic is illogical and breaks too many of the laws of physics. This means I can plan a counterattack for Mysterio.” As if another thought came into mind, Peter’s gaze fell, while his shoulders slumped. “Let me guess? Did Mister Jackpot and your boss have a falling out over creative control?”

Otto simply nodded in affirment. “Indeed. Quentin just found everything in poor taste and chose to leave Oscorp on his own accord. It would explain why he went so far as to change his appearance and identity.”

“That seems to be a running thing with him. Mysterio went to Hollywood to start over, but his visions were derailed before he quit there, too,” Peter muttered, standing from his seat, before walking towards the table where his costume was. Inhaling deeply before sighing, the boy shook his head, while rubbing a hand over the spider insignia. “This sucks. Jackpot– I mean, Quentin Beck– seems like a decent guy, and now, I have to bring him down.”

“Are you serious?” Spitfire growled, folding her arms. Once Peter began to slide his costume over his frame, the woman bit down onto her lip and raised a finger. “He just tried to kill you! I don’t care what his reasons are!”

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter stood in uniform with his mask in his grasp, and he clutched at his side, groaning. “I know. Beck’s committing fraud and tried to kill me, but he’s still Trixie’s father. If I go through with this, it’s going to break her heart.”

Spitfire opened her mouth, ready to respond, but she glanced to the side, rubbing the back of her head. “I didn’t think about that. Poor kid.”

Peter faced Octavious, pausing to put his mask on. “What do I do, Doc?”

Otto’s expression softened, as he placed a hand over the boy’s shoulder. “I do not envy your position, Parker, but I chose you to be my apprentice because you are a man of integrity. Just do what you feel is right.”

The man’s words only seemed to conflict Peter further, apparent as his masked eyes simply narrowed in response. Thoughts flooded his mind, while he slowly turned to exit. However, before Peter could make it out of the building, Spitfire rushed to his side. The woman placed both hands over his shoulders, her fiery gaze softening with every passing second.

“Look. Mysterio only beat you because you’re overthinking the entire thing,” she whispered, gently tightening her hold on the boy. A faint smile graced her usually steely features. “Just do what I do when I fly. Just let go and trust your instincts. You strike me as the kind of dude that’s at his best when the pressure’s at its highest point. I know you’ll do the right thing in the end, even if it sucks.”

As if contemplating the woman’s words, Spider-Man hesitantly nodded before taking his leave. In spite of the pain still coursing through his body, the boy broke into a sprint and vanished in a blur. Using all the strength in his legs, Peter jumped into the air and soared for several seconds, before firing a strand of webbing onto the side of the nearest building. Spectators watched as Spider-Man swung into the distance, pointing in awe and shock. Meanwhile, Peter glanced to the side and groaned. However, buzzing erupted from his side, before a number appeared within his mask’s lenses. 

Cursing under his breath, Peter hastily landed onto the nearest rooftop and pressed a small button along the edge of his lens. “Hi, Trixie. What’s up?”

“What’s up?! You have a lot of nerve to act so casually, Parker!” Trixie barked, her face appearing on the phone’s screen. She fumed, biting down on her lip while the temperature in her face rose. “That fake Spider-Man showed up again, and I never heard back from you in the chaos! Care to explain yourself?!”

Cursing under his breath, Peter could only stammer about nervously. “Oh, right. Uh, I’m sorry about that. Things got so crazy,”  he declared, looking around his surroundings frantically. Suddenly, the boy snapped his fingers as an idea came into mind, and he soon removed his mask, all while making certain his phone was aimed away. Before long, Peter pressed the camera icon on his screen, and his bruised visage took center on the phone, surrounded by flowers plastered along the edges. “I was just getting more soda before a mob of people just stampeded over me! I guess I blacked out, because the next thing I know I’m waking up in the hospital. The doctors told me that I have a concussion.”

Trixie’s eyes widened as she stared intently at the boy’s bruising and swelling. Slowly, but surely, her anger dissipated while her gaze softened. “A concussion? You poor thing. In that case, it could have been much worse.”

“Either way, I didn’t want you to worry,” Peter answered softly, using a finger to poke at the lump on his cheek.

Inhaling deeply before sighing, the girl shook her head, while managing a small smile. “I’m going to worry regardless, but I do appreciate the sentiment. That’s… considerate.” Like lightning to a rod, concern returned to the girl’s mind, and Trixie clutched at the phone, shaking it in her grasp. “Don’t change the subject! Are you okay? You look awful! Are you still at the hospital? Is there anything I can bring for you?” she questioned, her mouth moving faster than her brain could comprehend. The girl paced throughout her setting, retrieving her purse before tossing several items into its pocket.  “Are you at the local hospital? I’m coming right over.”

Peter shook his head, chuckling nervously. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t care. I’m coming,” Trixie reaffirmed, narrowing her gaze.

Waving a hand dismissively, Peter managed a small smile. “Seriously, you don’t have to. I’m about to be discharged from here in a few minutes, and my aunt’s on her way to take me home.”

As if considering the boy’s words, Trixie’s demeanor softened before she gave a small nod. “Okay, but call me the moment you make it home. We have some leftover soup that I’m sure you could use.” Her image remained on the screen as she pursed her lips, glancing to the side shamefully. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you were hurt. I just wanted you to enjoy my father’s performance, and it’s been ruined twice in a row.”

Peter chuckled under his breath. “It’s not your fault, Trixie. It was just bad luck. Trust me. I’m used to things going wrong at the worst time. That’s the Parker Luck.” Sobering as the weight of reality steadily sank back into place, Peter’s gaze narrowed and brow lowered. “Something’s been bugging me, Trixie. Can I ask you something?”

Taken aback, Trixie blinked in response, before eventually nodding. “Um, sure. What’s wrong?”

“It’s about your dad,” Peter stated, trailing off while scratching the back of his head. His gaze fell, landing on the spider insignia over his chest, and he gathered his thoughts, nodding. “Don’t you think it’s a little convenient that a fake Spider-Man attacked your father not once, but twice?”

Trixie’s mouth fell agape before she frowned, her softened gaze morphing into a glare. “What are you insinuating all of a sudden? My father just defended himself from an attacker!”

Peter stood firm with a steady gaze, huffing. “Has your dad ever been attacked during his shows before? You admitted that Spider-Man was a fake, just from watching, and he seems to jump in right after a portion of the show had started.” He leaned forward, never averting his eyes from the screen. “It’s almost like it’s part of the show.”

“That’s enough!” Trixie exclaimed, staring intently at the boy. However, her disposition lightened, as her shoulders fell. Inhaling deeply, the girl rubbed at the bridge of her nose with two fingers, before letting out a low sigh. Her expression faltered further, evident by her quivering violet irises. “You’re clearly not thinking right, but seeing that you’re concussed, I’ll let it slide. Just… keep it to yourself. Something like this could ruin my father. He’s been trying so hard, and I’d hate for his career to get ruined again, because of word of mouth.”

“Trixie,” Peter whispered, opening his mouth to object.

Undeterred, Trixie slammed her hand against the wall and shook her head furiously. “Peter! Promise me that you won’t say a word!” She brushed a hand behind her ear, glancing away shamefully. “Please.”


Slamming his eyes shut, Peter shook his head and grumbled under his breath. A long silence filled the air as the boy contemplated the girl’s words. However, he let out an exasperated groan, before eventually yielding with a nod. As if satisfied with his response, Trixie mirrored his action and sighed. 

“We’ll talk later. Thanks, Peter,” she muttered, pressing the red icon on the screen.

The call disconnected, leaving Peter to curse inwardly, before he leaned against an air conditioning unit and slid to a sitting position. The boy stared at his phone for what seemed like ages. However, his eyes widened at a realization, before his thumb scrolled through a list of names. Eventually, one name in particular filled the center of the screen, and Peter hesitated, humming as he swam through a whirlpool of thoughts filling his mind. Letting out a sigh, the boy tapped at the screen, until a ringing tone could be heard. 

Peter let out a derelict groan as he wiggled in place, attempting to ignore the thumping at the center of his chest. “This was probably a mistake. I shouldn’t have…”

“Um, hi,” a soft voice answered, sending Peter’s already rapidly beating heart into overdrive. However, the source of the sound let out a content giggle. “Is that you, Peter?”

Blinking, Peter forced a chuckle and nodded. “Hi, uh, Fluttershy. Is this, uh, a bad time?”

Elated, Fluttershy grinned in response. “No! Um, I mean, I’m happy that you called.” Realizing what had transpired, the girl shielded her phone from prying eyes and curled into a ball. She faced the window, smiling. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good, all things considered. A lot has happened over the weekend. Really makes me wish I just went on that stupid camping trip.” Peter stated, placing a hand over his forehead. His eyes widened at a thought before he sighed. “Speaking of, how is that going? You girls enjoying s’mores and singing kumbaya over the fire?”

Brushing a hand through her long hair, Fluttershy shook her head. “So much has happened here, too. We can talk about it a little later. We should be back in Canterlot City in a couple of hours.” Twirling a strand of her hair across a finger, the girl’s eyes softened. “We’ve been hearing about what’s happening. They’re saying that Spider-Man has been attacking the arena lately, but I knew that it wasn’t you.”

Blinking, Peter tilted his head to the side and arched a brow. “Really? How’d you figure that? Is it because you knew that I wouldn’t stoop so low? That I’m too friendly?”

“Yes, and um, the imposter was too tall,” Fluttershy gently replied, smiling.

A blank stare formed on the boy’s face. “Am I really that short?” Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Peter raised a finger defensively. “Anyway. Yeah. It’s a long story, but the fake Spider-Man turned out to be a robot. Thing is, I know who is responsible, and I’m going to stop him. It’s just…” he trailed off, his eyes softening before he glanced skyward. “No matter what happens, a friend of mine is going to get hurt from this. I almost don’t know what to do.”

Fluttershy frowned as her gaze straightened. “Yes, you do. You’ve always done the right thing. It’s why you’re a hero. It’s why you’re my hero.” Many of the students began to clamor in the background, prompting the girl to use a free hand to shield her phone. Fluttershy held her mouth over its speaker, whispering, “I’ll be home soon. If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”

The screen darkened, prompting Peter to place the device within a hidden compartment under the spider insignia over the chestplate. “Okay. Guess there’s no way around it,” Peter whispered, pausing to slide his mask back over his face. With a nod, the boy hopped over the side of the building and descended into a glide. Firing a strand of webbing onto the nearest side of a building, Spider-Man swung over the streets of the city. “Time to pull back the curtain and start the final act!”







Within the halls of the arena, Quentin sat at the center of his dressing room, with a distant stare in his eyes. He stared somberly at the picture in his grasp, tracing a finger over the image of his daughter. However, his phone began to buzz loudly, vibrating at the corner of his desk. The man steadily freed himself from his self-induced trance, before walking over to the device. He could only release a low growl from his mouth upon recognizing the name and number glowing on its screen. 

Beck opened his phone, slamming a hand over the desk afterward. “What do you want, Norman? I recall our deal being that you would never bother me or my family again.”

Huffing, Osborn eased back into his seat and folded his arms. “I am not one to break a deal, Quentin. Perhaps you should honor your side, before making assumptions.” Pressing an array of buttons nearby, this prompted an image of Spider-Man to appear at the center of Beck’s phone. Osborn rested his elbows over his desk, before cupping his hands together. “Care to explain? It’s hard to extract anything, when the target is still mobile.”

Slack-jawed, Beck fumbled in place, while nearly dropping his phone. “That’s impossible!” he exclaimed, eventually snatching the phone still. “How is he still moving?! I drugged him and set him on fire!”

“Pardon?” Norman questioned, furrowing his brow.

Beck yelled out, swatting the objects over his desk away. “It should have instantly incinerated him, but it didn’t! I even smashed him with a wrecking ball, and he just shrugged it off!” Burying his face in the palm of his hands, Quentin slowly lifted his gaze, before grabbing a vase and tossing it across the room. The decor shattered upon impact, causing water and flowers to scatter. “I walked him right in front of a bullet train, and what was left of him fell into the river! That’s enough to kill any man a thousand times over!”

Osborn hummed, taking in the information with a stern gaze. “Yet, Spider-Man not only survived, but he’s in good enough health that he is making a beeline towards your location. How interesting…?” Once Beck ceased his motions, holding a bewildered gaze, Norman simply crossed his arms in response, smiling evilly. “Based on social posts and our sources, Spider-Man is heading straight towards the arena. Safe to assume, he’s coming for you, Beck. For your sake, I suggest you try a little harder.”

Lowering his head, Beck slammed his eyes shut and exhaled. “Fine. If this is what I’m forced to become, so be it.” He straightened his posture, pausing to remove the tie from his neck. He took the phone in hand, frowning. “You’ll get your body this time, Norman. I’ll see to it personally. Call it my greatest performance yet!” Closing the phone, Beck huffed, before lowering his shoulders. Suddenly, he cackled maniacally, before raising both hands high overhead. “Come, Spider-Man! Enter the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s world!”

To be continued…
> Ch. 6 "Great and Powerful"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Six “Great and Powerful”

Jackpot stood at the center of the arena with a deepened and narrowed gaze in his armor. The stands had long been emptied, leaving only the sound of whirring to echo throughout the chambers. The man paused, rolling up his sleeves to reveal keypads strapped to his wrists. He soon pecked away at the devices before lifting his gaze, all while his clear and round helmet sat by his feet. 

Soon, a small machine materialized into existence in a burst of light, mere inches away from his being. It hovered in place, stirring to life as a holster opened at its center and clicked in response. Suddenly, a dozen others appeared throughout the arena and repeated the same action. Lights emitted from the drones, as if scanning their surroundings, and the environment soon distorted from sight, filling the area with darkness. 

Slowly, but surely, everything disappeared and left only Jackpot. However, before he could proceed further, the device over his wrist buzzed to life, and Jackpot removed a small piece from its side, sliding it into his ear. Inhaling deeply, Jackpot pressed the small button at its center and let out a small sigh. His stiffened demeanor lightened, evident by the small smile that graced his features.

“Hi, Pumpkin,” he gently stated, pecking away at the buttons on his wrist pad, and Trixie’s image soon appeared on the screen. Meanwhile, the drones steadily scattered throughout the arena, while Jackpot centered his attention on his device. “I haven’t heard from you all morning. Is everything well?”

Slow to respond, Trixie pursed her lips while brushing a hand through her hair. “I’m fine, Dad. I just…thought about you. After what happened yesterday, I was worried.” She glanced to the side, blinking as her eyes softened. “You’ve been attacked twice by Spider-Man, and now, all of a sudden, a second one shows up. I don’t understand. Were you being attacked by an imposter this entire time? Do you have any idea what’s really going on?”

Taken aback, Jackpot stammered. A lump formed in his throat, forcing the man to swallow before he laughed uproariously. “They both attempted to swindle your father, but the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s illusions and skills proved to be too much for the two of them!” Waving a hand dismissively, Jackpot’s smile widened until practically all of his teeth shone. “From what I’ve read, he is the city’s biggest menace, and the Great and Powerful Mysterio can only assume he is attempting to make a name at his expense.”

Trixie watched her father with an unreadable expression, remaining silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, but the girl soon nodded, smiling as if comfortable with the response given. 

“O-Of course! Trixie should have known that’d be the case!” Lowering her head until only her smile could be seen, the girl forced a grin as her mouth quivered involuntarily. “Will you make it home for our Friday night movie marathon? If so, could we invite Peter? He’s such a big fan of your work, and we didn’t get to show him the theater room last time. ”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he whispered, managing a small smile. Sobering, Jackpot’s brow furrowed momentarily, but he brushed aside all intrusive thoughts, nodding confidently while his smile only widened. “Of course your friend can join! I’d like nothing more!”

Both individuals shared a glance before their respective screens darkened. Once certain she was alone, the girl dropped her phone and threw a hand over her sore eyes. Before long, Trixie sat down and pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Jackpot stared intently at his wrist pad for what seemed like ages. His confidence wavered while his eyes softened, shadowing with dejection. 

He lifted his saddened gaze momentarily, exhaling. “I’m so sorry, Trixie.”







Spider-Man swung across the city on a strand of webbing, relinquishing his hold before speeding into a brief glide. Eventually, the costumed hero landed along the side of the arena’s wall, perching himself in place. He crawled towards the nearest vent, removing the shaft before sliding within. The journey through the ventilation system was brief, with the boy navigating his way through the arena’s interior design, but he soon reached the center, crawling along the ceiling of the auditorium where the main shows usually took place. 

Analyzing his surroundings, Spider-Man’s masked eyes widened upon spotting Jackpot sitting along the edge of the stage, with his helmet on his lap. Yet, Peter squinted in response, before leaping from his perched position. Jackpot glanced in the costume boy’s direction, remaining undeterred, while a distant stare remained on his face. The air remained silent, as Spider-Man steadily walked towards the man, but the surrounding environment distorted, fading from sight as darkness spread. Soon, Spider-Man and Mysterio stood in a void, but neither faltered, holding their respective positions mere feet apart.

“You know,” Jackpot stated, brushing a hand over the dome-like helmet in his grasp, “it wasn’t meant to be personal. The last thing I wanted was a fight.”

Spider-Man’s eyes narrowed further as he alternated his gaze about, noting the lack of buzzing within his cranium. “Seriously? You commit fraud at my expense. Then, you drugged me, set me on fire, dropped something really heavy on me, led me into the path of a bullet train, and left me to drown in the slime soup that’s the Hudson River.” 

Shaking his head, Jackpot pursed his lips and forced a wry smile. “I hadn’t had intentions of torturing you, my good fellow. All of those attacks were meant to be quick and painless, but you are far more… hardy than I anticipated. It wasn’t a personal or vindictive endeavor.”

Turning sharply, Spider-Man pointed a finger at Mysterio. “Oh, that makes it so much better. You still made this personal! Why make a fake me? Why even target me in the first place?”

Jackpot winced, closing his eyes, but he shook his head, frowning. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I merely saw you as a means to improve my reputation. I mean, you are the biggest menace in this region of the country, according to the media.” Lifting his gaze, the man shared a glance with Spider-Man and huffed. “If I took you down, I’d be regarded as a hero, and all would come to see my performances as the Great and Powerful Mysterio. That was as far as I intended to take it.”

“My reputation already sucks. One mistake, and everyone thinks I’m a bad guy. Glad to see you were willing to take advantage of that,” Spider-Man spat, crossing his arms. Slow to respond, the boy gathered his thoughts before exhaling. “So, what changed? You wanted to kill me because you were afraid of being exposed?”

While that is a fair and warranted accusation, I promise you that is not the case,” Jackpot declared, slowly standing from his position. The world began to shift, as stone and metal pillars materialized into existence, soon forming a crumbling bridge. Spider-Man inhaled sharply at the change of scenery, but once he glanced back at Mysterio, the individual levitated from the ground, with his arms stretched out to the side. The clear helmet faded from sight, placing itself over Beck’s head. “I only targeted you because Oscorp wants you captured, and before you ask, I have no idea why. They desperately want a sample of your DNA. I only know if I do as they say, my family will be safe, and I can provide for them without issue.”

“There are better ways to provide for your family. What would they think if the truth came out?” Spider-Man responded, pausing while a buzzing sensation coursed through his cranium. 

Growling, the boy extended his hands and fired a pair of strands of webbing at Mysterio. However, the projectiles simply passed through Beck’s image, and his form distorted from sight, fading as green smoke enveloped him. Myserio’s laughter echoed throughout the vicinity, while the surrounding landscape fell apart. Broken shards of stone and steel fell from the bridge, as flames steadily spread across the ground. 

Spider-Man flipped out of the ember’s reach, landing at the top of a lamp post. “I’ve a friend who was hurt by Oscorp, and she didn’t think there was a way out either. Don’t let this become your legacy. It’s not too late.”

“I’m afraid it is, Spider-Man. It’s a shame you have to die. My daughter is quite a fan,” Beck stated, his voice echoing across the airwaves. The clouds in the sky darkened, spiraling until Mysterio’s image morphed into existence. Beck’s face within the helmet faded from sight, leaving a blank void. Soon, lightning crackled across the sky and thunder rumbled, sending tremors coursing through the earth. Mysterio soon cackled wildly, vanishing within the clouds. “Now, there is only the Great and Powerful Mysterio!”

Mysterio appeared behind Spider-Man’s position with his hands raised, prompting a trio of blue orbs to faze into existence. Each glowed brightly before unleashing a bolt of electricity, forcing Spider-Man to leap out of their path. They continued to fire in his direction, as he hurdled over every broken piece of stone and steel in his path. However, Peter fired a strand of webbing onto a broken pipe and pulled it into his waiting grasp. 

Suddenly, the buzzing within his cranium amplified and sent bolts of pain searing through his skull. Spider-Man stopped in his tracks, groaning as he struggled to gather his bearings. Meanwhile, a pair of turrets rose from the ground mere inches away, before taking aim at the costumed individual. Their chambers spun, whirring to life while bullets began to fly, but Spider-Man shook the cobwebs free from his mind, narrowly managing to contort his upper body out of the pathway of the hell of steel. 

Vanishing in a blur, Peter dashed behind the closest mounted gun, and he swung his pipe with great fury, shattering the steel turret, as if it were like glass. Just as the second turret turned, readying to return fire, Spider-Man tossed the pipe like a spear. The impact pierced the core, causing the mechanism to spark uncontrollably, before it eventually collapsed to the ground. The imagery of the broken turrets distorted, morphing back to the original shape of Mysterio’s drones. 

With a narrowed gaze, Peter took hold of one of the devices, but before he could proceed, the trio of blue orbs soared back into proximity. All three unleashed electrical bolts at once, this time connecting to their target as they struck Spider-Man. The force of the blow generated a shockwave, igniting a light potent enough to disrupt the holographic background momentarily to reveal the interior of the arena, before it stabilized back to the bridge settings. Peter was launched and spiraled violently across the air for several yards, until his back cracked against a steel beam, folding the material upon impact. 

Yet, he managed to keep hold of the drone, tightening his grasp. The boy lifted his head, humming as his body was shielded by debris, and the blue orbs slowly began to congregate towards his position, electricity crackling across their shells. Peter peeled back the hull of the drone in his grasp, exposing an array of wires and circuitry. He studied the anatomy with a narrowed gaze, soon retrieving a small pair of tuning forks from a hidden sleeve near his thigh. 

“This tech is amazing. I wish I could take time to really admire it, but I’m on a tight schedule. I just hope this stupid idea works!” Spider-Man whispered as he rearranged the wiring, wincing as the device sparked in defiance. Within seconds, the orbs began to glow, but Peter closed the shell of the drone, tossing it to the side. Inhaling deeply, before sighing, the boy cracked his knuckles and huffed. With a steady gaze, Spider-Man nodded. “Okay. My turn.”

Suddenly, Spider-Man sprang into the air, before latching a strand of webbing onto the nearest orb, swinging it overhead until it smashed directly into the others. Shards of steel scattered from the impact, as Peter landed on the ground. Meanwhile, Mysterio materialized into existence mere inches behind the costumed hero, with his hand reared back while flames poured from his palm. Spider-Man’s cranium blared wildly, prompting the boy to spin around with a clenched fist, but his mind screamed internally, forcing him to draw back his punch, before it could connect. 

Both individuals stood in place, with Mysterio staggering, while Spider-Man’s fist hovered inches away from his face. A crack soon formed at the center of the glass, spreading like a fissure. Eventually, the world rolled back into motion, and Beck vanished from sight, appearing several yards away down the street. He frantically pecked away at the keyboard strapped to his wrist. 

“Activate all drones now! Full power!” Beck exclaimed, grinding his teeth to the core. A warning message appeared on the screen, flashing in bold crimson letters. However, this only seemed to have evaporated what little patience Quentin had left, before he unleashed a wild scream. He snatched his glass helmet away and hurled it to the ground, shattering it upon impact. Slamming the keys on his device, the man howled. “Override the fail safes! ACTIVATE! ALL DRONES! NOW!”

Spider-Man raced towards Mysterio in a sprint, closing the gap within a virtual second, before leaping into the air, but once they were inches apart, a pair of drones materialized into sight between them. Both drove into the boy’s chest and carried him into the air. Faster than he could hope to react, the drones detonated in a burst of light. A cloud of flame and smoke engulfed Peter’s body, as a shockwave sent tremors coursing through the vicinity, and he was launched back, spiraling into the ground. Steel and stone ruptured upon impact, giving way for yards, until Spider-Man eventually grinded to a halt, on the back of his head. 

A high-pitched hum echoed throughout Peter’s ears, as the world seemingly slowed. Straining, he pulled himself back to a standing position, all while an array of drones surrounded Mysterio. Each faced Spider-Man’s direction, as if on command, and the boy simply staggered to his feet, taking in bated breaths. All of his senses roared at once, disorienting his equilibrium, but Peter inhaled deeply before closing his eyes, tuning out the screams of the outside world. Meanwhile, darkness and a green smog spread across the area, enveloping everything in sight, with the exception of Spider-Man. 

However, Peter managed to regulate his breathing, before inhaling deeply, exhaling once he opened his eyes. “Trust your instincts and follow your senses.”

Nodding, Spider-Man raced towards the void and ducked underneath a storm of bullets. He flipped overhead, throwing a kick, and the blow crashed into a drone, making it visible as it shattered to pieces. Spider-Man blurred from sight, as a wave of bullets rained down where he previously stood. Suddenly, a crimson wave blitzed through a trio of drones, sending the machines careening to the side in a sea of broken pieces of steel and circuitry. 

Flames spun across the vicinity from multiple angles, attempting to envelope him, but Spider-Man continued to sprint through the dark corridor, grabbing one of the drones as an unwitting shield. Soon, the boy rammed his way past what remained of the machines, before slamming the drone in his grasp against the wall. He sprinted forth into the darkness, focusing on a tiny beacon of light at the end of the path. His emotions cried out, flooding the confines of his mind, but his heart screamed, begging for a merciful triumph. 

Yelling, Spider-Man threw a straight punch at the center of the light, and a crunch echoed throughout the area, soon revealing a crack in Mysterio’s chest armor. The environment distorted, shifting back into the arena’s setting, while Beck skidded across the floor. Peter panted with a furrowed gaze, never averting his line of sight from the fallen Mysterio, but he soon stood, as the buzzing in his cranium finally ceased. 

Peter limped towards Beck, holding a hand over his aching torso. “It’s over, Mysterio.”

Wincing, Quentin struggled to remove his dented chest plate. “I must say, I know when I am outmatched,” he whispered, eventually managing to free himself from the armor. Yet, the corner of his lips curled into a dark smirk. “However, I’m a man with contingencies.”

Beck vanished from sight, materializing into existence in a burst of light just behind Peter, with a firearm in hand. A loud bang echoed across the arena as a bullet pierced Spider-Man’s cranium from the back. The boy limply fell to the ground, collapsing to a knee, before folding to the ground in a heap. Quentin watched with a look of grimace, lowering his head shamefully. However, his eyes shot open as an invisible force grasped his wrist and lifted his arm. 

“What?!” Quentin yelled out, straining as he attempted to free himself to no avail. He lowered his gaze, inhaling sharply as Spider-Man’s downed corpse suddenly sprang back to his feet, seemingly unharmed. He soon glanced to the side at the source holding his arm, finding Spider-Man in place, and Beck’s complexion paled while he took in the splitting image of two webbed heroes. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Spider-Man huffed, tightening his grip until the wrist device crumbled to pieces. “Easy. I hacked one of your drones and implemented my own dummy hologram program, just in case you tried something funny.” The boy shared a glance with his holographic counterpart, snapping his finger once the last remaining drone’s camouflage fell. “Say hello, dummy.”

A line of static trickled through the image of Spider-Man before he nodded, gesturing a thumbs up. “Hello, dummy.” The projection posed, holding his hands out. “I have to take a shot in the dark, but I almost lost my head there! Wacka wacka!”

Spider-Man shook his head and exhaled before smacking the drone with the back of his hand, causing the holographic image of himself to vanish from sight. “Am I really that awful? I’ll work out the kinks on that,” he declared, using his free hand to unleash an array of webbing onto Mysterio. The gossamer spread upon impact, binding the entirety of Beck’s upper body, and Peter pushed him to the ground, leaving the man in a sitting position. After a few seconds, Spider-Man let out a low sigh. “It’s over. Consider this your final curtain call.”

Beck strained, unable to free his arms from the binding, but a small smile graced his features before he peeked up at the costumed hero. “Well played, Spider-Man. I yield to the superior showman.” Sobering, the man lowered his gaze as if accepting his fate. “So, what happens now? Do you take revenge for my attempts on your life?”

“Don’t be stupid. The last thing I’ve ever do is take a parent away from their child,” Spider-Man scoffed, lowering to Beck's side before removing the other wrist device from his second arm. He pecked away at the board before dropping it to the floor. “Now, you answer to the police. It’s out of my hands.”

Taken aback, Quentin’s eyes widened. His expression softened and shoulders slumped, as the reality of the world sank in. “Even after what I did, you’re still doing the right thing? You’re nothing like the media portrays.” Jackpot let out a low sigh, before shaking his head. “Forgive me. I know what it is like when the media destroys one’s reputation unjustly. I believed the false rumors, without giving you a fair chance.”

“I still wish it didn’t come down to this,” Spider-Man gently interjected, his masked eyes narrowing. Suddenly, the door to the main lobby opened, before a plethora of local law enforcement swarmed into the area. Peter returned his attention to Mysterio as the officers neared the stage. “So, what happens now?”

As if contemplating the boy’s question, Beck was slow to respond, but he eventually nodded, holding a firm expression. “Simple. I confess to my crimes and serve time. I owe you… and my daughter… that much. As a showman, I must keep some semblance of honor.” Once the officers were within hearing range, Jackpot cleared his throat and growled in an exaggerated manner. “Curse you, Spider-Man! You foiled the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s plan to exploit you! One day, Mysterio will have his revenge and destroy you next time!”

Spider-Man reached out, as if to stop Beck, but one of the officers readied his weapon, pointing it in his direction. Raising his hands defensively, Peter blankly stared at the policeman. “Seriously? Why aim at me this time?”

The officer glared, pursing his lip. “You’re still under arrest for the assault of an officer!”

A long silence filled the air as Spider-Man awkwardly stammered about. “Oh, right. That’s… actually reasonable. In that case, here’s my disappearing act.” He paused, pointing dramatically to the side. “What’s that?!”

All three officers shot their bewildered gazes to the side, attempting to locate what the vigilante was referring to. Faster than anyone could react, the boy fired a strand of webbing across the arena and swung throughout the air, until he reached the vent near the highest point of the room. The officers could only watch as Spider-Man crawled into the shaft, each cursing amongst themselves. 

However, Jackpot quietly nodded his approval, before allowing himself to smile briefly. “Don’t watch the mouth. Watch the hands.”

After what seemed like minutes, the officers escorted Mysterio from the premises and to their squad cars. The media, ever present, waited outside, with their cameras ready. All in one fell swoop, the Great and Powerful Mysterio’s reputation sank beneath the depths of the earth. 

Spider-Man watched from afar, perched on the side of a building. “I found a way to win, but somehow, everyone still loses.” He shook his head sadly, before unleashing a strand of webbing into the distance, falling into a swing, away from the media frenzy. “I’m sorry, Trixie.”

To be concluded…
> Epilogue: "Beck and Call"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue “Beck and Call”

“Ladies and gentleman, it pains me with a heavy heart to confirm that the so-called Great and Powerful Mysterio is nothing more but a con man and a fraud,” Jameson stated, leaning forward against the desk. He paused, removing the thick cigar from his mouth before shaking his head. “Our proud and competent local law enforcement apprehended Jackpot yesterday, and he has openly confessed to hiring an actor to play Spider-Man in a coup to gain the trust of the people. With trust comes fame, with fame comes notoriety, and with notoriety comes profit.”

Jameson frowned, inhaling deeply before exhaling harshly. “It is well documented that I have no love loss for Spider-Man. I still say that wall-crawler should be strung up by his webs and arrested for the crimes he’s committed, but the justice system is built on integrity and honesty, things Mister Jackpot has clearly disregarded in his quest for fame.” Straightening his posture, the man pointed his cigar directly at the camera. “I am an optimist and admit that I was hoodwinked along with all of you. After that webbed freak attacked a good officer, I suppose I was just enthusiastic that someone could stop him. I should have stayed professional instead of urging on what was an unlawful approach.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Jameson. It’s only because we weren’t together when that phony was in town,” a soft voice declared from off-panel, prompting the camera to sharply shift towards the direction of the source. Suddenly, Diamond Tiara occupied the entirety of the screen with a wide grin while patting her poofy, violet hair. She raised a finger, waving it confidently. “Hello, everyone! I have returned from Camp Everfree! I must say that we have much to discuss, but we can go over that after the break! I am sad to hear that our Spider-Man issue has only worsened. Like moths to a flame, he’s become a draw for low-lives!”

“The truth is so obvious that even my niece has to spell it out! Spider-Man has attracted nothing but trouble since he moved to Canterlot City!” Jameson exclaimed from off camera. An awkward silence filled the air as the screen remained centered on Diamond, who hastily pointed to the side. Loud smacking and rattling echoed throughout the room. “Jared! For once in your life, focus! Get your head out of your–!” Jameson yelled, pausing once the camera finally shifted towards him. He awkwardly stood in place, towering over his desk, and the man chuckled sheepishly, easing back into his seat. “I’m just pleased to announce that I have a solution!” 

The corner of Jameson’s mouth cracked to curl into what resembled a smirk, sending an unsettling chill through those in his proximity. “That hotshot vigilante’s days are numbered. I will officially be providing help to our local law enforcement through the gracious charity of Oscorp Industries. You will see the results of our labor soon! Your donations have also helped fund this project!” Easing back into his seat, Jameson propped his feet up onto the desk before easing the cigar back into his mouth. “Your continued support is appreciated! This is Just the Facts with J. Jonah Jameson!”







Somewhere within an office, a dark man stood with both arms crossed behind his back. He stared intently at a wide screen stretched across a wall holding multiple images of Spider-Man, each of a different time and locale. Pressing a hand against the projection, the man scrolled through the walls of text and photos. His smile only grew wider with every passing second, matched only by his brightened gaze. Suddenly, a blue-skinned woman entered the room with an electronic pad in her grasp, and she slowed to a halt once they were inches apart, her violet irises peeking over a small pair of glasses.

“It seems Quentin was unsuccessful in obtaining a DNA sample from Spider-Man,” the woman stated, tapping at the numbers on her device. After a few seconds, her face twisted with disgust, as her nose scrunched tightly. “That was uncharacteristically sloppy of him. He usually sees a job through with passable results.”

The man managed a chuckle, never averting his gaze from the giant screen. “Do go easy on him, Abacus. It wasn’t through a lack of trying. Beck is narcissistic, but he is a professional, especially when motivated. I can assure you that he went after Spider-Man with all that he had. It truly shows how impressive the specimen is.”

Using a finger to straighten her glasses, Cinch huffed under her breath. “I’m surprised, Norman. I anticipated that you would not have taken Beck’s failure well.”

Osborn smirked, closing his eyes momentarily. “If Spider-Man were to have been killed so easily, he would not have been worth our investment in the first place. However, he just proved to be the perfect candidate, by easily surviving Quentin’s tactics. So, it’s not a failure. I’d call it a successful field test.” He opened his eyes, narrowing his gaze on the largest photo of Spider-Man. “We are truly on the verge of achieving our goal of creating the perfect super soldier.”

Abacus nodded, allowing a small smile to grace her features. “Well, I suppose it is time for phase two? Shall we prepare Mister Gargan for surgery?” She soon hesitated, furrowing her brow. “There are signs that the procedure may have negative effects on the subject’s psyche.”

“That comes with the territory, Abacus. It’s why we will let Jameson handle the fallout, should anything come apart. For now, let’s see how Gargan’s body adjusts to the cybernetics and animal mutation injections. Begin Project Scorpion immediately,” Osborn declared, turning before pointing behind the woman. Abacus gave a small nod, exiting the room upon prompting. Once alone, Norman continued to stare intently at the photograph of Spider-Man for what seemed like ages, before his grim facade softened. “Just a little longer, Harry…”







Deep within the confines of Canterlot Penitentiary, Quentin sat in an orange prison uniform, while rubbing the bridge of his nose with a pair of fingers. The media had long pressed him, as if reveling in the confessions that he shared, but it paled in comparison to what he felt currently. The man peered up, sharing a glance with his wife, and Spectacle simply glared in his direction, her scowl seemingly permanent. Yet, Quentin glanced at the younger girl sitting behind the woman. Trixie had remained silent through the entirety of the visit, sitting in the corner of the room, with her gaze lowered and arms crossed.

“Yet another colossal failure. Color me surprised,” Spectacle quietly whispered, tapping a finger against her forearm impatiently. “I have no idea why I even bothered in the first place.”

Beck reached out, extending his hand. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just…”

“Good. Because I can’t and won’t. I wasted years of my life catering to your choices and failures. Now, all I have to show for it is this: a broken husband and city wide ridicule,” Spectacle coldly declared, standing from her seat. She ignored the man’s extended hand before turning sharply, making her way to the exit door. “Speak to your daughter. I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

The woman stomped out, slamming the door behind her, and Jackpot inhaled deeply before letting out a defeated sigh. However, his demeanor lightened once Trixie slid into the available seat across the table from him. The pair sat in silence for what seemed like ages. Beck opened his mouth, ready to respond, but his words fell into his throat. His gaze fell as he yielded, throwing himself at the mercy of his daughter. Fortunately, Trixie’s hands fell over one of his own, and she gave a reassuring squeeze, as if sensing his uncertainty. Elated, the man shook his head in disbelief, while ignoring the pain in his eyes.

Beck pursed his lips. “I’m so sorry, Pumpkin.”

“It’s okay, Dad, but why did you do it?” Trixie questioned, her eyes softening. “You were already famous. Why fake the entire thing?”

Exhaling, the man cursed under his breath, before sharing a gaze with the girl. “I wasn’t famous enough. I felt if I took down Spider-Man, I would have earned enough fame to support you and your mother for the rest of our lives.” He returned Trixie’s gesture, gently squeezing her hand back with warmth. “I have failed you both for years. It doesn’t excuse my actions, but I wanted to make amends for not living up to your expectations.”

“Is that why you turned yourself in and confessed to everything?” Trixie questioned, frowning.

Slow to respond, Quentin nodded and huffed lightly. “Yes. Spider-Man proved to be the better showman, and… I wanted to preserve what little honor I had left by telling the truth.”

Sniffling, Trixie’s lips quivered, as her mind struggled to process the information she was given. “Don’t listen to Mom. I don’t care how she feels, and she doesn’t speak for me. I was always happy, just spending time with you. While I don’t condone what you did, I’m proud that you chose to do the right thing in the end,” choking back the sob lodged in her throat, the girl nodded fiercely. “You can and will come back from this. You just stumbled again. The Great and Powerful Mysterio will make his comeback!”

The officer standing behind Beck stepped forth, pointing a thumb behind his position. Dejected, the man’s shoulders slumped. “It seems our time is up for today, Pumpkin. I hope you’ll come visit again soon.”

“R-Right. I promise I’ll visit every chance I get,” Trixie whispered, pushing herself from the chair and into a standing position. 

Quentin cleared his throat, causing the girl to stop upon reaching the door, and he soon hummed, while a half-hearted chuckle escaped from his mouth. “Please let me know how things go with your friend, Peter.”

“What friend?” Trixie darkly muttered, turning away sharply before her father could hope to interject.

Exhaling, Beck frowned, before throwing a hand over his face. He sank into his seat and moaned. “What have I done?”

“Hello, Quentin Beck,” a firm voice suddenly called out from the other side of the room. A man with dark skin and a long, black jacket entered the room with a narrowed gaze, crossing his arms once he took a seat at the table across from Quentin. He glanced at the guards, waving a hand dismissively, and this prompted everyone to exit the room, leaving the two men alone. After a brief duration, the individual in black huffed, before leaning forward. “My name is Colonel Nick Fury. I’m the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Slow to respond, Beck blinked in response, while furrowing his brow. “I’ve heard of you. What could you possibly want with me?”

Smirking, Fury held his ground and stared intently at the man. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time, and I’m impressed with your technology and techniques.” He reached into his jacket, retrieving a folder before extending it to Beck. “I have a proposition for you.”

Quentin accepted the item, reading through the walls of texts and photos upon removing the documents from the folders. Hesitant, he arched a brow. “What’s in it for me?”

“Less prison time and a cleaner cell for starters,” Fury dismissively stated, shrugging while peeking at Quentin from the corner of his good eye. “Plus a little dirt on Oscorp. I know you’re building a case against them.”

Slack-jawed, the folder slipped from Quentin’s grasp. “How did you know about that?”

Fury huffed, ever stoic. “In my line of work, I make it a point to know everything.” He retrieved the folder, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Interested?”

After a brief duration, a small smile steadily formed on Beck’s face. “When do we start?” 







“Any word from Miss Lulamoon?” Octavious questioned, furrowing his brow.

Peter shook his head, peeking up at the ceiling. “No word. I’ve tried calling her a few times, but she’s not answering. I hope she’s okay.”

“Give her time, my boy. It’s quite a personal endeavor she’s experiencing. Just– Fascinating!” Otto exclaimed giddily, losing his train of thought. Closely examining Peter from every conceivable angle, he alternated between an array of tools, from a stethoscope to a thermometer, and even a magnifying glass. Holding the tool mere inches away from the boy’s face, the man beamed, in spite of Peter’s bemused expression. “It’s only been twenty-four hours, and your physical wounds have all but healed! There’s not even a hint of scar tissue!”

Rolling his eyes, Peter grumbled under his breath while Octavious lifted his sleeve and examined his arm. “I feel like a guinea pig every time we do this, Doc. Just watch where you’re poking those– Ah!” he blurted out involuntarily, as the cold steel of the stethoscope slid underneath his shirt and brushed against his skin. Peter snatched his shirt down back into place, frowning while flustered. “We really have to work on your tact and establish personal boundaries! Give me a warning next time!”

Paying the boy no mind, Otto shifted back to the computer screen nearby, before taking a seat at the desk. “I do apologize, Parker. It’s just that your physical attributes continue to astound me. For all intents and purposes, you should still have some evidence of the injuries you sustained, but you don’t,” Octavious declared, emphasizing his words as he pointed at the images on the monitor. The man rubbed at his chin, humming. “I’m willing to even argue that the only symptom of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy you suffered was a mild headache, and that was only for a few minutes. Astounding, considering the blunt force trauma was delivered via a bullet train at maximum velocity to the frontal lobe.”

Crossing his arms, Peter let out a low sigh, as he rubbed a finger over his temple. “Train to the face. Yeah. It still sucks, but would it be weird to admit that I still get worse headaches from my upgraded Spider-Sense? I mean, I was able to power through it against Mysterio, but it’s going to take some time before I really get used to it.”

“Evolution naturally takes time, my boy. With each experience, you will naturally grow and evolve both physically and mentally. You are truly becoming something beneficial to humanity,” Otto replied, nodding while straightening his shades with a finger. 

Slow to respond, Peter’s thoughts trailed off, as his gaze fell to the side. “Speaking of, I can’t help but wonder about something,” he murmured, stepping forth until he was mere feet away from his colleague. Peter soon folded his arms and leaned against the desk. “You used to work with Oscorp. Do you have any idea why they would send Trixie’s father after me? Mysterio said that they wanted my DNA really badly.”

Sobering, a dark cloud seemingly formed over Otto’s head, as evident by his diminishing demeanor. “I can’t speak on their behalf, but I have theories,” he sighed, lowering his head shamefully. A low huff escaped from the man’s mouth, while he uncharacteristically removed his shades and revealed a saddened pair of brown irises. “I left Oscorp years ago because of their dissolving standards in morality. They cared more about the results and not the road taken to achieve them.”

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned, arching a brow.

Pursing his lips, Octavious considered his words carefully with a furrowed brow. “I believe they view you in the same light as I do: as the next evolutionary step that can benefit mankind. However, they want to obtain your biological structure by any means and potentially weaponize it.” The man cleared his throat, before placing the darkened eyeware back over his face. “At least, that’s my theory.”

Peter nodded, straightening his posture while raising both hands behind the back of his head. “It’s all we’ve got to go on, and we both know they have a bad reputation behind the scenes. Mister Jackpot wanted to get out for the sake of his family, and Oscorp blackmailed him to do their dirty work. Plus, it’s really looking like Oscorp’s the reason why Spitfire’s suit malfunctioned in the first place. They just really wanted her schematics and wanted her out of the way, when she wouldn’t play ball.” The boy’s brow lowered to resemble an exasperated glare, as he could only frown. “I knew there was a reason why I hated big corporations to begin with.”

Otto stood as well, placing a hand over Peter’s shoulder. “It’s all speculation, but I am proud that you are using your gift for the good of humanity.”

A small smile formed on Peter’s face. “Thanks, Doc, and I’m glad you left Oscorp before doing anything shady.”

“Well. A-Actually,” Otto whispered, stammering before taking a step back. 

Just as he opened his mouth to elaborate, a soft set of knocks were heard at the door. Both Otto and Peter shared a glance, their gazes wide with bewilderment, but the older of the pair dismissed the thought, opening the door once he reached it. After a brief duration, a blonde individual walked into the room behind Octavious and steadily approached Peter with a warm smile. Otto stepped to the side, nodding. “Parker! I’d love to introduce you to–” 

Peter’s eyes shot open as he stumbled in place, practically appearing before the man in a flash, and he nodded feverishly, slack-jawed. “Dr. Curt Conners!” he exclaimed, extending his right arm to the man. “What an honor! I’ve read about your work with biology, herpetology, and biochemistry!”

Curt chuckled sheepishly, awkwardly raising his left hand in response. “T-Thank you, Mister Parker. I’m flattered.”

Blinking, Peter was slow to respond, as his gaze steadily shifted to the man’s shoulder, and his complexion paled upon spotting the lack of a limb attached to it. “Oh, my God! I am so sorry!” Peter whimpered, quickly offering his other hand in proper response, and both men accepted the gesture, with the boy keeping his head lowered shamefully. “I’m such an idiot! I had forgotten about your accident!”

“It’s okay! I know you meant no harm! I’ll take it as a compliment!” Curt lightly declared, grinning until Peter eventually relinquished his grip. The man paused, attempting to shake blood flow back into his hand, and he huffed, stretching out his fingers. “Quite a grip you’ve got there. Otto’s told me quite a bit about you, too, Mister Parker.  He says you’re brilliant.”

Otto soon stepped between the pair, chuckling while playfully patting the back of Peter's shoulder. “And lazy, depending on the circumstance.” After the trio shared a brief hint of laughter, Octavious turned his attention to his youngest compatriot and nodded. “Doctor Conners will be working with us from now on. I believe his expertise in biology and biochemistry will be most beneficial to the research we’ve recently discovered. I will inform  Miss Sparkle of the news, once she returns from her camping trip. I’m certain she will be just as enthusiastic!”

Grinning, Peter’s gaze brightened. “It’s an honor, Doctor Conners!”

“The honor is all mine, Mister Parker,” Curt declared, his smile matching the boy’s.







Within the halls of Canterlot High, the world seemingly fixated its gaze on one individual. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a dream come true, but today, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Trixie wanted to shrink, as she lowered her head shamefully, avoiding the gazes of everyone around her. Yet, she could not escape from their laughter, while various groups grinned at her expense. 

“Oh, look! It’s the Great and Powerful Fraud!” a girl exclaimed, sending everyone in the hallway into a sea of uproarious laughter. 

A boy stepped forth, brushing his elbow against his closest friend’s side. “What’s the matter, Trixie? Your pops couldn’t perform his own tricks?”

Another girl emerged from the crowd, pointing a thumb behind her position. “Sure he can! He can disappear for the next five to ten years!”

The last comment sent every student in the hallway into an upheaval, their laughter growing in volume until their voices could be heard from the outside. Trixie bit down on her quivering lip, stifling her building sobs. She pulled the hood from her sweater over her head in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the rain of insults. Her mind raced as she struggled to find words to respond, but the girl uncharacteristically remained silent, her face flushing to a shade of pink. Yielding to her embarrassment, Trixie hastily retreated from the scene and kept her line of sight fixated on the ground, in a vain attempt to avoid the world’s piercing gaze. 

However, just as she cut around the corner, the girl nearly collided into a blunt force, but as she peeked up, a familiar hazel gaze greeted her. Peter stood with his hands extended, gently gripping Trixie’s shoulders. The pair stood in silence for what seemed like ages, before the girl scoffed, pulling herself out of the boy’s grasp. Taken aback, Peter merely blinked in response, but his disposition soured as students around them began to snicker mischievously, apparent by his scowl and furrowed brow.

Ignoring their laughter, Peter returned his gaze to the girl. “Are you okay, Trixie? I’ve been trying to call you.” Inhaling deeply before sighing, the boy glanced to the side. “I’m sorry about what happened to your dad.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Trixie scoffed, snapping a glare in Peter’s direction. Frowning, Trixie shook her head and sniffled. “You’re just here to tell me that ‘I told you so’ and rub it in that you were right. Again.”

Peter’s eyes widened at the accusation before he stepped back, his mouth falling agape. “What? No! I would never say that.”

Leaning forth, Trixie’s glare only deepened, as her eyes ached and grew wet. “My father invited you into our house for dinner, and you repay his kindness with a vile accusation! I thought you would have had more faith in him! It doesn’t matter if you were right! Now you get to go back to your family and I have to go back to my mother!” 

Peter winced in response, unable to defend himself from the reality of the situation. Tears began to pour down Trixie’s face, prompting the girl to wipe away at her cheeks with a free hand. Yet, she stood in place, before holding her gaze at the boy. Peter opened his mouth to respond, but his words failed him, as he glanced to the side with a look of uncertainty. Trixie narrowed her gaze, as if waiting on the boy to give any form of response. However, the pair stood in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. Even the surrounding spectators bit their tongues, unsure of what to make of the situation. 

Eventually, Trixie shook her head and frowned. “As usual, you were right. Now, my father’s a fraud and locked up while I’m stuck with my mother. I hope you’re happy.” The girl walked past Peter, avoiding his extended hand, but she paused, holding her saddened gaze skyward. “I need some space for a while. We’re still friends, Peter, but I’ll need time to figure everything out.”

“Trixie,” Peter stated, reaching out once more, until his hand hovered over the girl’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Slow to respond, Trixie’s shoulders trembled, as her gaze fell. Soft sniffles escaped from the girl, before she forcefully cleared her throat, walking forth out of Peter’s reach. “Yes. I’m sorry, too.”







The walk home was slow and arduous, filled with self-doubt and endless thoughts. Trixie’s words struck harder than any blunt force trauma could manage. Spider-Man remained undefeated since his move to Canterlot City, but it seemed Peter Parker, while on the verge of a turn-around, managed to cost himself another chance at happiness. It was self-inflicted and unavoidable all the same, it felt, but there was a lingering thought hovering over the boy as he finally made it to the outskirts of his abode.

Peter slowly opened the door to his home once in range, peeking his head inside, and his eyes softened at the sight of May working diligently in her cooking. He glanced to the side, spotting Aria comfortably stretched across the couch, with a pair of buds in her ears. Faster than the boy could hope to react, fumes escaped from the kitchen and rushed into his nostrils. A soothing sensation clouded his mind, sending Peter into a blissful drift. 

May turned, smiling widely upon taking in the sight of her nephew. Before long, the woman left the kitchen and openly embraced the boy without question. Peter quietly stood with May’s arms wrapped around his neck, sighing as Trixie’s words echoed throughout his mind. A newfound sense of appreciation began to swell from within his chest, evident as the boy returned the embrace with warmth. 

The pair soon parted, sharing a smile while Aria dragged herself from the couch. Once inches apart, the girl managed a smile before reaching up and mushing a hand through Peter’s hair. May returned with a fresh slice of banana cream pie, fumes exuding from the treat. Grinning, Peter accepted the small plate, and he chomped down into the treat, allowing the savory goodness to melt within the confines of his mouth. 

Aria arched a brow, smirking. “You’re usually far more gloomy than this. Everything okay?”



Peter paused, shrugging. “Almost nothing went right. Some days ahead are going to suck, but I have two amazing people looking out for me at home,” he trailed off, taking another bite of the pie. He stared lovingly at both women in his proximity, holding his smile. “Tell me there’s something better. Go ahead. Try.”







“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” - Michael J. Fox

The End