[Third Person PoV]
Tony turned towards the ceremonial scissors resting neatly upon the crimson velvet pillow and raised an eyebrow with a playful smirk. "So, shall we cut the ribbon?" he asked, voice carrying that usual air of confidence and showmanship that made everyone around him chuckle.
"You're not cutting anything," Peter scoffed good-naturedly, stepping forward and snatching the pillow from Janice's hands.
Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning as Peter turned away and approached Aunt May and Uncle Ben, who were standing together at the front of the crowd, their expressions soft and proud.
"Would you guys like to do the honors?" Peter asked, his voice gentler now, carrying a faint smile as he extended the pillow toward them.
"Are you sure you want us to do it?" Uncle Ben asked, clearly caught off guard. Aunt May's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and emotion flashing across her face.
"Of course," Peter said earnestly. "This place was built with you both in mind more than anyone else. You're going to be the ones running things from now on. This shelter, this center—it belongs to you as much as it does to me. So, I want you two to be the ones who officially open it."
For a moment, neither spoke. Aunt May turned to look at her husband, and in that brief silence, they seemed to share an entire lifetime of understanding through a single glance. Then, smiling warmly, they both reached out and took hold of the scissors together, their hands trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment.
They stood before the ribbon, poised to cut it. Cameras began flashing around them as reporters and bystanders raised their phones, the bright bursts of light illuminating their faces. They looked back toward Peter one last time for reassurance. He nodded, eyes shining with pride.
Together, they snipped through the red ribbon. The clean sound of the cut echoed softly in the air before being drowned out by the eruption of cheers and applause. The crowd clapped and cheered as confetti burst from the sides, raining down in shimmering waves of red and gold.
Peter joined in the applause, smiling from ear to ear, but the warmth of the moment quickly shifted as an unmistakable prickle danced along the back of his neck. His Spidey-Sense flared—sharp, electric, and insistent.
All around him, the other spider-heroes—MJ, Gwen, Felicia, and even Aria—reacted subtly, each of them stiffening or glancing about as that same instinct rippled through their senses. None of them looked alarmed, but their eyes grew sharper, scanning the surroundings.
Peter's gaze drifted upward, meeting MJ's, She noticed it too. Instead of panic, however, she simply smirked and gave him a small, knowing wink.
…
High above the celebration, perched on the edge of a neighboring rooftop, a man lay prone behind the sleek barrel of a high-tech sniper rifle. His suit—bright yellow with a glossy polymer sheen—glinted under the afternoon sun. His mask's visor flickered with readouts and digital locks as his breathing echoed faintly within the hazmat helmet.
"I've got eyes on the target," the man said in a low, calm tone, tapping the comm device inside his helmet before placing his finger gently on the trigger. Through the scope, Peter Parker's figure came into perfect focus.
"Take the shot," a cold voice replied through his earpiece.
The sniper inhaled deeply, his gloved finger tightening over the trigger. But as he tried to squeeze, his hand refused to move. His muscles locked up, as if something were physically restraining him. Confusion flashed across his face beneath the mask.
"What the—?" he muttered, looking down. His heart skipped. A thin line of spiders—dozens of them—were swarming over his gloved hand, their combined weight pulling his finger back from the trigger.
He scrambled backward, yelping as he tried to shake them off, only for a wave of spiders to pour out from beneath his gear and across the rooftop. He fell onto his back, eyes wide behind his visor. "Ahhhh! Get away! Get off of me!!" he shouted, flailing and kicking as hundreds of tiny legs crawled over his arms, chest, and helmet.
The voice in his earpiece barked sharply, "What's happening? Report back! I repeat, report your status!"
But the sniper couldn't answer. His voice was muffled by the sound of frantic breathing and the skittering swarm. He tried to shout, but then stiffened as the spiders began crawling beneath his suit, filling it from within. His screams turned to choked gasps as the black wave consumed him completely.
Moments later, there was silence. The swarm writhed and pulsed before slowly dispersing, scattering across the rooftop until nothing remained but an empty hazmat suit crumpled against the concrete and a small earpiece blinking weakly beside it.
The radio crackled with static. "Hello?! Report back! Can you hear me!? Hello?! What's going on up there?!" the voice demanded, growing more frantic with every unanswered call.
The only reply came from the swarm as they crawled away, their chittering voices merging into one eerie chorus:
"Another day we live is another day we serve the Queen! Long live the Queen! What a wonderful day!"
…
As the last snip of the ribbon fluttered to the ground and the crowd burst into another wave of applause, Aunt May and Uncle Ben stood smiling proudly beneath the banner that read FEAST COMMUNITY CENTER – Grand Opening. The air was buzzing with excitement, flashes from cameras still going off, the sound of chatter echoing throughout the courtyard as guests began filing toward the entrance.
Tony, never one to miss an opportunity to make an impression, strode confidently toward the pair, his tailored suit catching the light. His trademark grin was already in place by the time he extended his hand.
"Tony Stark," he announced with his usual flourish, giving Uncle Ben's hand a firm shake. "I'm sure you've heard of me."
Before either of them could respond, Tony turned toward Aunt May, caught her hand delicately, and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "And you must be Peter's gorgeous sister," he said, eyes gleaming with playful mischief.
Uncle Ben's eyebrow twitched as Aunt May covered her mouth to hide a small giggle. "No, you silly man," she said through a smile, "I'm his aunt. But you can call me May."
"And I'm her husband," Ben interjected, his tone polite but edged with a protective firmness. "Peter's uncle. Ben."
Tony blinked, looked between them, and chuckled. "Ah, right—of course. My mistake." He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly with that practiced Stark charm. "Forgive me, I didn't expect his aunt and uncle to look so young and good-looking. He's told me a lot about you two."
Ben and May both glanced past Tony just in time to see Peter standing off to the side, shaking his head while mouthing, "No I haven't."
Tony, oblivious—or pretending to be—just kept smiling.
"Weren't you the guy who was kidnapped and just recently rescued?" Ben asked, his tone half-teasing but.
Tony waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft—details, details. No need to dwell on that. The important thing is, me and the kid go way back."
Peter groaned and gestured with his hands, mouthing again for emphasis, "No we don't! I literally met this guy in my office like three days ago!"
A few nearby guests snickered as they noticed the silent exchange.
Ben tilted his head, smirking. "Uh-huh. Should we be concerned, then? Because Peter only just turned sixteen. How long exactly have you known him, Mr. Stark?"
Tony froze for a fraction of a second, realizing how suspicious that sounded out loud. The corner of Peter's mouth twitched upward into a grin.
"Officer!" Peter called, turning to George Stacy who was standing nearby. "Arrest this man right here."
Tony straightened his jacket with a deadpan expression. "Okay, fine, you caught me. I was lying. I just met your nephew."
Ben chuckled under his breath. "We know."
Tony shrugged, completely unbothered. "Can't blame a guy for trying to establish rapport."
The crowd began filtering inside, exploring the freshly opened building. Voices echoed through the new halls of FEAST—children, people calling greetings, volunteers showing guests around.
But amid the lively chatter, Madeline looked around, frowning slightly. "Huh? Where did Mary Jane disappear to? I swear she was standing right beside me a minute ago."
Gwen, standing next to her with her arms crossed, hid a small smirk. "She said she had to use the bathroom," she replied casually, though the glint in her eye said otherwise.
…
Meanwhile, far from the bright lights of the ceremony, the air hung heavy over a narrow alleyway a few blocks away. A naked man was hanging upside down, wrapped tightly in layers of webbing from his ankles to his mouth. The silk shimmered faintly under the flickering streetlight, the faint drip drip of water echoing off the damp bricks.
His muffled cries came out weak and panicked as he swung gently back and forth, the blood rushing to his head, his face flushed red and soaked in sweat. His terrified eyes darted around desperately, searching for anyone—anything—to help him.
Then a shadow shifted above him.
From the darkness of the fire escape above, a pink-hued web descended—silky, glistening, and strangely vibrant. Hanging upside down from it, descending with predatory grace, was the Scarlet Spider. Her crimson hair shimmered faintly and small black spiders crawled lazily across her shoulders and along her cheek, alive and loyal.
MJ smiled behind her mask, her eyes gleaming faintly with a dangerous light. "A little spider told me you were naughty~" she purred, her voice dripping with playful menace. "So I came to see for myself."
The man tried to scream, his voice muffled by the webbing over his mouth. His whole body trembled, the sound of his rapid breathing echoing faintly in the tight alley.
MJ tilted her head, watching him with interest. "You know…" she continued softly, dragging a fingertip along his chest where the webbing tightened. "I've never actually interrogated someone before. I don't really know where the line is… or when I've taken it too far."
Her lips curved into a grin, fangs glinting slightly as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Let's find out, shall we?"
Her eyes lit with an eerie pink glow, and a hum of power filled the alley. The next sounds that broke the stillness were not words—but muffled screams, sobs, and the skittering of countless tiny legs echoing faintly through the darkness.
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