Across the planet of Terra, eyes remained glued to the live broadcast room, held in suspenseful silence. As footage of the Earth age flickered across the screen, horrific scenes played out in real time. Streets were littered with victims of sudden, inexplicable deaths, prompting waves of sobbing from onlookers.
Outside, brilliant giants of light towered over the landscape to shield the population. The grandest of them all stood resolute against the sky, though its radiant luster had noticeably dimmed to a darker, more muted hue.
In the broadcast, the camera focused on an ancient transmitter blinking with unfamiliar, alien symbols. Speculation immediately flooded the chat network.
"Director Fury is a man of great wisdom. Seeing this situation, he wanted to use this ancient transmitter for the first time?"
"What sign is this?"
"I haven't seen it before. I'm afraid this thing is not an old antique."
"The tyrant finally snapped his fingers; half of the life in the universe was wiped out, and we are still suffering."
"I suddenly thought that if the Immortal Warrior of a hundred lives does not capture the previous life, can we not have to suffer this kind of pain?"
"Yeah, if he didn't catch it, would Terra be attacked by this level of weirdness?"
"What are you thinking? Even if he doesn't capture it, someone else from that world will eventually! Don't forget, in the same world, more than one person has a previous life!"
"Indeed, I agree with the user above. As Strange said, it was the only hope. But if actions change, the future changes."
"It's all fate; everything is fate's arrangement."
"This is only the history of the Earth's age. If it were the history of other times, or a far more distant era, would something even more terrifying happen?"
"Thanos is not dead, and the Infinity Stones should still exist. Can the Time Stone restore everything to its original state?"
A tiny glimmer of hope flickered in the hearts of the masses. Although Thor had ultimately failed to kill Thanos, Doctor Strange's final words, promising there was no other way, convinced many that this grueling timeline was the sole path to ultimate victory. This shared belief gave the populace the strength to endure while the giants of light outside maintained their desperate defense.
Inside the sanctuary of the High Council, Briggs kept his eyes closed, though his rapidly moving eyelids betrayed his inner turmoil. Ever since the broadcast revealed that unique logo, tranquility had abandoned them. He had seen it before.
Through the network, he had successfully captured seven past lives, each spanning entirely different eras and worlds. During the recall of the third past life, a time defined by the convergence of ancient and modern martial arts, he had spotted that exact symbol. In that era, absolute power was revered; ancient martial techniques were demoted to mere fitness routines, while new martial styles integrated technology directly into human biology, such as bio-electromagnetic chips that allowed practitioners to generate raw electricity.
Though he had been a common citizen with limited security clearance back then, he remembered one detail vividly: the supreme governing organization of that era bore the identical crest.
Is it truly a coincidence? Johan pondered, opening his eyes as thoughts raced through his mind. The chronological gap between these two eras should be immense. If it isn't a coincidence, does that mean certain organizations or factions from the Earth age survived and endured into subsequent historical epochs?
If true, this was a groundbreaking realization. Humanity had long believed that the history of the Earth suffered a complete, unbridgeable fault line. If they could trace the historical anchor captured by the memory stream, they might unlock forgotten records of the Earth era through these linked past lives. I wonder if anyone from my original historical period has been captured as well...
As a grand strategy to better utilize the Network formed in his mind, Briggs forced himself to maintain composure. He shook his head softly. "Regardless, we must survive the current crisis first."
He took a deep breath, focusing on channeling his energy to sustain the glowing aura surrounding his body. To keep the giants of light empowered, the remaining Councilors took turns synchronizing with their own past lives.
Suddenly, Hyeon turned deathly pale. "Just now... all orbital defense satellites on the planet's periphery went dark. The mysterious wave of destruction must have wiped them out."
Briggs did not flinch; he had anticipated this outcome the moment the electromagnetic defense grid shattered. "Ensure that the Terra ground signal base stations remain fully operational at all costs."
Before the command could even settle, a massive shockwave rattled the building. Through the reinforced windows, the Council watched in horror as the giant of light, a massive titan standing tens of thousands of meters tall, began to flicker unsteadily.
A profound, suffocating sense of grief swept across the globe. Millions felt a sudden, piercing ache in their chests, as though a piece of their soul had been torn away.
Councilor Evonne pointed out the window, her voice trembling: "Look below the giant's face... is that... a tear?!"
The Council watched, spellbound. High beneath the radiant titan's eyes, a brilliant, condensed droplet of material mass detached from the light, falling slowly like a tear toward the earth below.
Online discussions exploded into a frenzy.
"That super light man... is weeping?"
"He cried? Why did he cry..."
"I feel so heartbroken, like a loved one just passed away."
"The Giant of Light is a projection of humanity's collective consciousness fused with past lives... Tony is crying!"
"Look at the screen! A new scene is forming!"
"A memory that could make Tony cry?"
"Wait, what is that creature?"
"That's the remains from the Avengers' first battle when the Chitauri attacked Terra, right? It's massive! That's a Leviathan!"
The video stream stabilized into a vivid scene inside an industrial facility. Lying sprawled across the floor was the armored, mechanical corpse of a Leviathan monster, taking up nearly the entire length of the warehouse. Teams of salvage workers were actively cutting through its dense outer shell.
Near the center of the floor, a middle-aged man wearing a cap and glasses held up a child's drawing. The paper featured crude sketches of Iron Man and Hulk standing beneath a swirling space wormhole.
"Things are never gonna be the same now," the middle-aged man said with a light chuckle, showing the paper to a stocky man beside him. "I mean, look at this. You got aliens."
"Mm." Another man answered.
"You got big green guys tearing down buildings. When I was a kid, I used to draw cowboys and Indians."
The fat man shrugged helplessly. "Um, actually, it's Native American, but whatever."
"Yeah. Tell you what, though," the middle-aged man agreed, staring fondly at the page. "It ain't bad, is it?"
"No. Yeah." The fat man nodded. "Kid's got a future."
The middle-aged man took off his glasses, smiling. "Yeah, well... we'll see, I guess."
The perspective shifted, revealing the battle-damaged Stark Tower standing in the distance beyond the warehouse complex.
The audience realized the workers were operating out of a nearby underground facility and they exchanged hurried comments.
"That's Tony's tower, still scorched from the Chitauri invasion."
"Are these guys just a clean-up crew?"
"Why are we seeing this specific moment? Is there a deep memory hidden here in the Immortal Warrior's mind?"
"Quiet and watch! This memory must hold huge significance for Tony!"
Inside the warehouse, workers continued cutting metal and clearing debris. The middle-aged man, acting as the foreman, walked through the floor while holding the drawing to direct his crew. "No, hey! Uh-uh! You can't saw through that stuff. These alien bastards are tough. You gotta use the stuff they use."
He picked up a heavy iron tool, jammed it beneath the edge of a cluster of glowing blue alien crystals, and levered it with force. With a sharp metallic ring, the crystalline power sources popped free and tumbled to the floor.
"See? All right."
"All right."
"Oh, hey! Glad you could join us."
"Yeah. My alarm didn't go off."
"Yeah, your alarm. Look, just go stack that armor plating as I asked you. This is a huge deal for us."
Before he could finish scolding the late arrivals, the main doors swung open. A group of official personnel dressed in matching uniforms marched into the facility.
"Attention, please!" Announced a stern female supervisor, flanked by several guards wearing white hardhats. "In accordance with Executive Order 396B... all post-battle cleanup operations are now under our jurisdiction. Thank you for your service. We'll take it from here."
The foreman stared at her in shock. "Who the hell are you?"
A guard behind the female supervisor stepped forward coldly. "Qualified personnel."
"Look," The foreman protested, gesturing angrily. "I have a city contract to salvage all this, okay, with the city, so..."
"I apologize, Mr. Toomes," the female leader interrupted flatly. "But all salvage operations are now under our jurisdiction. Please turn over any and all exotic materials that you've collected... or you will be prosecuted."
Unwilling to see his livelihood destroyed, Toombs stepped closer to negotiate. "Ma'am, what am... Please. Come here. Hey, lady, come on. Look... I bought trucks for this job. I brought in a whole new crew. These guys have a family. I have a family. I'm all in on this. I could lose my house."
The female leader turned away indifferently. "I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can do."
As she walked toward the exit, one of the personnel sneered, "Maybe next time, don't overextend yourself."
Flames of rage erupted in Toombs's chest. "What'd you say?"
"Yeah. He's right. I overextended myself." Without warning, Toombs closed the distance and slammed a hard fist directly into the person's face.
"Unh!"
"Hey, hey, hey."
"Don't do it."
"Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh."
Instantly, the surrounding officers drew their sidearms, pointing their pistols straight at Toombs.
"Put them down," The female leader commanded sharply, turning back to glare at Toombs. "If you have a grievance, you may take it up with my superiors."
Toombs stood his ground, his voice dripping with venom. "Your superiors. Who the hell are they?"
The female leader offered no reply. Signaling her team, she turned and marched out of the facility, leaving Toombs standing amid the ruins of his ruined contract.
Inside the Administration headquarters, the Director and his inner circle stared at the projection screen in silence.
Johan, his eyes brimming with curiosity, leaned forward. "This is the dawn of a whole new era. Who knows what course history will take from here?"
Digging beneath the surface had always been his passion. He lived to unearth the hidden truths buried deep within every epoch, knowing full well that these underlying undercurrents shaped every generation.
The scene on the screen shifted abruptly, cutting to the interior of a cramped, dusty workshop. In the background, a small television set played a news broadcast featuring Tony Stark. "A joint venture between Stark Industries... and the government... the Department of Damage Control, will oversee the collection... and storage of alien and other exotic materials."
Lounging on a worn sofa, a man scoffed in disgust. "Now the assholes who made this mess are paid to clean it up."
Over by the workbench, a stocky engineer studying a glowing blue crystal nodded bitterly. "Yeah, it's all rigged."
"Experts estimate there are over 1500 tons of exotic material... scattered throughout the tri-state area."
"Hey, chief!" A worker called out as he pulled back the canvas tarp draped over the bed of a pickup truck, exposing a cluster of jagged, purple crystal wreckage salvaged from an alien ship.
"We have another load from yesterday!" The worker paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We're supposed to turn this in, right?"
The man on the sofa shrugged indifferently. "I ain't hauling it."
"It's too bad." The stocky engineer shook his head with a sigh. "We could have made some cool stuff from all that alien junk."
With a quick flick of his wrist, he calibrated a small ducted drone wired directly into a purple power core. The device hummed to life, levitating effortlessly into midair. Toombs commanded quietly, casually glancing over at the truck bed.
"I tell you what," Toombs added, a dark, calculating smirk creeping onto his face. "Let's keep it."
He looked toward the horizon, his voice hardening. "The world's changing. It's time we change, too."
The screen flickered, jumping forward in time. The same crew reappeared, though their surrounding environment had transformed dramatically. They operated with crisp, seasoned precision inside a fully upgraded workshop complete with an automated assembly line. Rows of strange, futuristic weaponry lined the workbenches.
One of the men picked up a firearm-like prototype fitted with a pulsing purple crystal at its stock. He flipped the safety off and pulled the trigger. A sphere of unstable purple light condensed rapidly at the muzzle before discharging in a blinding flash.
BOOM! A heavy steel safe across the room was instantly blasted into twisted scrap metal. Without missing a beat, the crew efficiently packed the freshly minted armaments into transport crates.
The audience watching the broadcast erupted into chatter.
"Wait, are they literally reverse-engineering alien technology into black-market weapons? That's insane!"
"Talk about some top-tier underground engineers..."
"They definitely don't look like the good guys, though."
"Did Tony seriously not realize that kicking them off the cleanup contract would just drive them straight into organized crime?"
"Holy crap, look! Is that a giant mechanical bird suit?!"
Under the cover of night, a massive set of metallic wings sliced through the sky, carrying Toombs back toward the hideout. He touched down smoothly on a mounting rack, dropping a freshly stolen haul of alien materials onto the floor.
Unbuckling the flight harness, Toombs smiled warmly at his crew. "There you go, Mason."
Mason grinned back, nodding in satisfaction.
Toombs looked over their sprawling operation. "Business is good."
Meanwhile, over at Essen Heavy Industries Group, Chief Engineer Astor watched the screen, his jaw practically hitting the floor. The terrifying speed at which a ragtag group of scavengers had weaponized alien tech hit him like a freight train. Their practical engineering was somehow cutting through raw theoretical barriers faster than Stark's own high-tech labs!
"How are legitimate industries supposed to compete with this?" Astor muttered, letting out a helpless sigh. "They're going to put us all out of business..."
The executives sitting behind him shared his bleak expression. Given the current global tech baseline, creating standard armor was difficult enough, let alone replicating a self-contained, high-performance flight suit like Toombs' wings. Astor could recognize the absolute genius behind its flight dynamics, yet he couldn't even begin to fathom the underlying mechanics.
Just as the conference room descended into a heavy, embarrassed silence, a familiar voice rang out from the broadcast.
Astor blinked, leaning closer to the screen. "Wait... is that Parker?"
The camera angle flared to life, swaying violently up and down. Parker's enthusiastic voice echoed as he filmed himself sitting in the passenger seat of a luxury sports car speeding down the highway. "New York. Queens. It's a rough borough, but, hey, it's home."
The camera swiveled sharply toward the driver's seat, catching the annoyed face of Happy, Tony Stark's head of security.
"Who you talking to?" Happy grunted, keeping his eyes on the road.
"No one. Just making a little video of the trip," Parker replied cheerfully.
Happy scowled. "You know you can't show it to anyone."
"Yeah, I know," Parker said, nodding quickly before leaning back.
Happy glanced over. "Then why are you narrating in that voice?
Parker paused, thinking it over. "Um... Because it's fun."
"Fun."
"So, uh, why do they call you Happy?"
Instead of answering, Happy reached over and slammed the privacy partition switch, blocking Parker's view of the front row.
Before long, the scene cut to Happy leading Parker onto a private jet. Parker babbled non-stop through the boarding process and continued chatting halfway across the Atlantic.
"Come on. I'm not carrying your bags. Let's go."
"Hey, should I go to the bathroom before?"
"There's a bathroom on it."
"Whoa, no pilot? That's awesome."
"Ahh."
"Is that where you're gonna sit?"
"Yeah."
"This is your first time on a private plane?"
"My first time on any plane."
"Should it... Should it be... Should it be making that noise?"
"Shh. Shh."
"No one has actually told me why I'm in Berlin or what I'm doing."
"Something about Captain America going crazy."
When they finally arrived at an upscale hotel, Happy unlocked a door and motioned inside. "This is you."
Parker looked around, confused. "Oh, we're neighbors?"
"We're not roommates. Suit up." Happy deadpanned, rubbing his temples.
Parker pulled out his custom-made, homemade spider outfit. Once suited up, he stood in front of the mirror, pumping himself up. "Okay, Peter, you got this."
Happy opened the door, froze, and stared at Peter's outfit in sheer disbelief. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"It's my suit." Parker said proudly.
Happy sighed, holding out his hand. "Where's the case?"
"What case?"
Happy rolled his eyes and opened a hidden adjoining door.
Parker gasped, trailing behind him with the camera. "What? I thought that was a closet."
Happy gestured toward a sleek, metal case sitting on the table. "Box is over there."
"This is still my room?"
"Go."
"My room is way bigger than..."
"There."
Parker rushed over, zooming the camera in on the giant silver case. "I found the case. I found the case."
A small card rested on the metallic lid: A minor upgrade.
"'A minor upgrade'?" He popped the latches, and the lid sprang open. Sitting inside was a brand-new, cutting-edge spider suit loaded with Stark technology. Parker's hands trembled with excitement, shaking the camera violently. "Whoa. Oh, my God."
"Put it on," Happy ordered, leaning against the doorframe.
"What the...," Parker stammered, staring in utter awe. "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen..."
"Let's go."
"But, yeah. Well, I don't understand. Is it for me? Happy. Happy, wait"
Parker tried to articulate his excitement, but his brain completely short-circuited. "This is insane. Insane. Look at this thing. Look. Look at the eyes. This is the greatest day of my life. Okay."
"Let's go." Happy said.
The viewers finally pieced the timeline together.
"Wait, is this right before the Avengers' internal clash when Tony brought Parker in as secret backup?"
"Yep, exactly! Back then, I legit thought Parker built that high-tech suit all by himself!"
"Seeing how much Tony looked out for the kid right from the start... man, it hits right in the feels."
"Seriously, Tony was basically a father figure to him."
"Peter, stop shaking the camera! You're giving all of us motion sickness!"
"He's so earnest and sweet... how could he end up meeting such a tragic fate later on?!"
"He's just as much of a chatterbox as Tony. They really are two peas in a pod!"
"I can't with this kid, he's literally vlogging in the middle of a superhero war..."
The screen shifted again. Now fully suited up in his new gear, Parker followed Happy to a secluded spot outside an airport hangar. Hiding behind a stack of crates, Peter aimed his camera toward the tarmac, providing a low-whisper commentary. "Okay, there's Captain America, Iron Man... Black Widow. Whoa, who's that new guy?"
Suddenly, Tony's voice boomed across the tarmac through the comms: "Underoos!"
Parker panicked, whispering furiously into the camera. "Oh, that's me. I gotta go. I gotta go."
He slapped the camera onto the pavement, facing upward. With a burst of webbing, Parker launched himself into the air, gracefully soaring across the tarmac to snatch Captain Rogers' shield right out of his hands, a iconic moment that brought bittersweet smiles to everyone watching the stream.
A moment later, the footage cut back to Parker sprinting through the chaotic battle, picking up the camera on the fly.
"Hey, everyone." he panted, breathless with excitement. "The craziest thing just happened. I just had a fight with Captain America. I stole his shield. I threw it at him..."
Before he could finish, a shadow swallowed the sky. Ant-Man expanded into a towering giant, blocking out the sun.
"What the hell? He's big now. I gotta go. Hang on." Parker yelped. The camera tumbled onto the grass, capturing a chaotic montage of explosions, repulsor blasts, and mechanical roars.
"It was the most amazing thing! Mr. Stark was like, 'Hey, Underoos!' I flipped in and stole Cap's shield. I was like, 'What's up, everybody?' And... Hey, just a second! Coming! Hey."
"We have thin walls here."
The scene shifted to the following morning. Happy was driving down a quiet road with Parker in the passenger seat and a visibly banged-up Tony Stark resting in the back. Tony reached forward, gently tapping the camera lens in Peter's hand. "What are you doing, a little video diary?"
"A video diary," Parker replied quickly. "Yeah."
Tony chuckled faintly. "It's all right. I'd do the same thing."
Happy grunted from the driver's seat. "I told him not to. He was filming."
"I'm gonna wipe the chip." Parker blurted out, turning around nervously.
"Okay." Tony waved his hand reassuringly. "Hey. You know what? We should make an alibi video for your aunt anyway. You ready?"
Parker blinked in surprise and fumbled with the settings. "An alibi? Sure. Okay."
Tony gestured toward the seat next to him. "We rolling? Get in the frame."
Parker scrambled into the backseat.
Despite the bruises on his face, Tony flashed a charismatic smile at the lens. "Hey, May. How you doing? What are you wearing? Something skimpy, I hope."
Parker froze, his brows furrowing into a confused frown as he stared at Tony in sheer disbelief.
Tony broke character and burst out laughing, patting Parker on the shoulder. "Ha-ha-ha. Peter, that's inappropriate. Let's start over."
"You can edit it."
"Mm-hm."
Clearing his throat, Tony composed himself and looked straight into the camera with a warm, encouraging expression.
"Three, two, one. Hey, May. My gosh, uh, I wanted to tell you what an incredible job your nephew did...."
"Ha-ha-ha."
"This weekend at the Stark internship retreat. Everyone was impressed."
"Come on! It's a freaking merge. I'm sorry."
"This is because you're not on Queens Boulevard."
"See, Happy is hoping to get bumped up to asset management."
"He was forehead of security, before that he was a driver."
"That was a private conversation."
"I don't like joking about this. It was hard to talk about that."
"No, seriously, was he snoring a bunch?"
"Here we are. End of the line. Whoops."
The video faded out on the image of the three of them chatting and banter-filled laughter echoing inside the car, leaving behind an atmosphere overflowing with warmth and life.
Meanwhile, the audience couldn't bear the emotional weight any longer.
"Tony's rare, genuine smile, the one we hardly ever saw in earlier clips, says everything. It seems he truly cares about Parker."
"He was actually planning a fake alibi for Parker, just to help the kid hide the truth from his aunt..."
"How utterly devastated must Tony have been when Parker died? To watch someone die right in his arms... the sheer agony of that. Even watching a stranger pass away leaves a deep scar, let alone someone you love."
"Hey... is there still any chance for Parker to be brought back to life?"
"Resurrection? Death is absolute; people don't just come back from the dead unless someone uses the Time Stone to turn back the clock."
"I just want to sit in silence for a moment and feel the weight of what Tony was enduring. Look at them, chatting so easily. They had such a wonderful bond."
Inside Federal Hospital, Tetsuo stared unblinkingly at the glowing screen. The scene hit a deeply personal nerve, dragging his thoughts back to his old dean, back to the dark days when he was at his absolute weakest.
It was that old dean who had extended a hand, granting him confidence, guidance, and unwavering support. Whenever he stumbled upon impossible hurdles or crises he couldn't solve, he would go to the old dean just to vent his frustrations. Though the old dean was not his birth father, he had shown him more unconditional care than his real father ever had.
I think I can truly understand Tony's state of mind right now... Tetsuo sighed softly, falling silent. If I were ever forced to watch the old dean fall right in front of me... He couldn't even bring himself to complete the thought; the mere picture in his mind was far too painful to imagine.
On the screen, the scene played out smoothly.
"Can you give us a moment?"
"Want me to leave?"
Tony turned slightly, instructing his head of security, "Grab Peter's case out of the trunk."
Parker blinked, caught off guard. "I can keep the suit?"
Tony replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: "Yes, we were just talking about it."
Reaching up, he slipped on a pair of sleek sunglasses before leaning in with a firm, paternal warning: "Do me a favor, though. Happy's kind of your point guy on this. Don't stress him out. Don't do anything stupid. I've seen his cardiogram. All right?"
Parker nodded resolutely, his eyes shining. "Yes."
Tony pushed further, his tone earnest and grounded: "Don't do anything I would do, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. There's a little gray area in there."
He traced the narrow space between his fingers to illustrate the point. "That's where you operate."
Overwhelmed with excitement, Parker blurted out, "Wait, does that mean I'm an Avenger?"
Tony shut it down instantly: "No."
Happy hauled the heavy suitcase out of the vehicle, gesturing briskly toward Parker. "This it?"
Tony gestured toward the building, saying, "Seventh floor."
"I can take that. You don't have to." Parker said hurriedly.
"You'll take it?"
"Yeah, I can take that."
"Thank you." He turned back toward Tony, his young face flushed with anticipation. "So when's our next, uh... When's our next "retreat," you know?"
Tony raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "What, next mission?"
"Yeah, the mission. The missions," Parker confirmed expectantly.
Tony gave a non-committal response: "We'll call you."
Parker paused, checking his pockets. "Do you have my numbers?"
"No, I mean, we'll call you." Tony repeated, correcting the misunderstanding: "Like, someone will call you. All right?"
"Oh."
"From your team."
"Okay. All right."
As he spoke, Tony leaned across the seat, reaching past Parker to make a wide sweeping gesture. Taking it as an embrace, Parker threw his arms around Tony without hesitation, pulling him close.
Tony quickly nudged the door next to Parker open, chuckling as he pushed the kid back. "It's not a hug. I'm just grabbing the door for you. We're not there yet. Bye."
Parker stood frozen in place, utterly stunned as the luxury door clicked shut. Stepping out into the cool air with his suitcase in hand, he remained anchored to the curb, watching the vehicle glide away into the distance.
"They're gonna call me."
Watching this brief, lighthearted exchange unfold, those in the audience who were quick to tears broke down completely on the spot.
"An awkward, clumsy hug like that... why does it make me want to cry so badly?"
"Because the next time they actually hug... Parker is gone forever."
"We really need to cherish these moments while they last."
"It's an unfinished embrace. It makes me think of the helpless way Parker wrapped his arms around Tony right before he dissipated into dust. It breaks my heart."
"Tony and Parker were technically just partners on paper, yet Tony taught him so much about how to be a real human being."
"This hurts so much to watch..."
As the footage rolled on, everyone watching came to a profound realization: just how deeply Parker had come to mean to Tony.
After parting ways with Tony, Parker texted Happy endlessly every single day, keeping him updated and letting him know he was fully prepared to jump into the next mission at a moment's notice. But his phone remained quiet; he never received a single reply.
Back at school, the rhythm of mundane student life resumed.
"What's up, Penis Parker?" A student in a car said as he drove by.
The scene transitions again. Parker unlocked his storage locker, pulling out heavy textbooks for his upcoming class. Suddenly, a hand reached over from behind and set a miniature plastic figure on his shoulder. "Join me, and together... We'll build my new LEGO Death Star."
Parker spun around hastily. "What did you say? How much in total?"
"What? That's awesome. How many pieces?"
His best friend, Ned, couldn't pull off the dramatic surprise and explained with a self-deprecating grin: "Three thousand eight hundred and three."
Parker's eyes widened. "That's insane!"
Ned chuckled happily. "I know. You want to build it tonight?"
Parker shook his head apologetically. "No, I can't tonight. I've got the Stark..."
Ned nodded in understanding. "Mm-hm. Stark internship."
Parker shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Yeah, exactly."
He scratched his head nervously, adding, "Always got that internship."
In reality, he hadn't heard a word from Tony in what felt like forever. "Yeah, well, hopefully, soon it'll lead to a real job with them."
Ned looked at him with genuine envy. "That would be wonderful! Everyone will say it's serious work. Parker will give you a gold coin as a reward for doing a good job."
"That would be so sweet."
"Right?"
"He'd be all, Good job on those spreadsheets, Peter. Here's a gold coin"
"I don't know how jobs work."
"That's exactly how they work."
The two friends fell into step, walking down the crowded hallway toward their classroom.
"Oh, heh, I'll knock out the bones of the Death Star." Ned rambled enthusiastically. "I'll come by afterwards. For the most part, the difficult thing is the base of it. The top half we can knock out in two hours, tops."
Parker's steps slowed to a halt, and his focus drifted away completely as he caught sight of a female classmate walking past in the hallway. A soft, unmistakable affection flickered in his eyes. He didn't hear a single word of Ned's Lego breakdown, a simple, dopey smirk spreading across his face as he aimlessly offered, "That'd be great."
"Okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration... between points A and B?"
"Flash."
"It's the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by mass."
"Nope. Peter. You still with us?"
"Uh, uh, yeah, yeah."
"Uh... Mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine.."
"Right. See, Flash, being the fastest isn't always the best if you are wrong."
"You're dead."
"Today we're talking about Danish physicist Niels Bohr... but trust me, there's nothing Bohr-ing... about his discoveries regarding quantum theory."
For the rest of the day, Parker was completely checked out. During math class, instead of taking notes, he secretly watched footage of himself stopping a speeding car with his bare hands under his desk. His academic focus was completely shot, and he even skipped out on rehearsals for the upcoming debate competition.
Through these mundane, grounded scenes, the atmosphere in the live broadcast shifted dramatically. The stinging agony of cosmic warfare and burning battlefields felt miles away. Yet, it was precisely this ordinary, peaceful glimpse into Parker's everyday life as a normal high school boy that made his tragic fate so much harder for the audience to accept.
In the bustling cafeteria, Parker sat with his chin resting in his hand, staring blankly past his untouched lunch tray toward the girl hanging a debate banner on the far wall.
"Did Liz get a new top?" Parker murmured to Ned.
Ned barely looked up. "No. We've seen that before, but never with that skirt."
Parker kept his eyes locked on Liz, muttering, "We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy."
"Too late," a deadpan voice interjected. Sitting at the same table was their classmate, Jones, who had been quietly observing their awkward behavior the entire time. "You guys are losers."
Ned smirked lightly, unintimidated. "Well, then why do you sit with us?"
Jones delivered her response with icy directness: "Because I don't have any friends."
"Next question. What is the heaviest naturally-occurring element?"
"Hydrogen's the lightest."
"That's not the question. Okay."
"Yeah."
"Uranium."
"Correct. Thank you, Abraham."
"Yes."
"Please open your books to page 10."
Moments later, Parker approached the faculty supervisor to officially ask for leave from the debate team. He didn't want to drag down the team's chances with his unpredictable schedule, but his sudden withdrawal drew immediate taunts from his peers.
"Peter, it's nationals. Is there no way you could take one weekend off?"
"I can't go to Washington. If Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I'm here."
"You've never been in the same room as Tony Stark."
"Wait. What's happening?"
"Peter's not going to Washington."
"No."
"No, no, no."
"Why not?"
"Really? Right before nationals?"
From her corner seat, Jones casually chipped in without missing a beat: "He already quit marching band and robotics lab."
The entire group turned to stare at her.
Jones shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not obsessed with him. Just very observant."
In the end, the team had no choice but to find a alternate replacement for him.
"Flash, you're in for Peter."
"I don't know. I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Black Widow coming up."
"That is false."
"What'd I tell you about using the bell for comedic purposes?"
After a long, agonizing afternoon of waiting, the final bell finally rang. Parker was the first to burst out of the classroom doors, charging into the open air like a bird bursting free from a cage. Little by little, the charming simplicity of his daily routine and bright character were painted across the screen.
"Wow, Parker is super dedicated!"
"Was Tony like this when he was a kid? Though, to be fair, Tony was way richer than Parker."
"Well, Tony's parents probably weren't around much during his childhood, right?"
"I get it! Tony must have been looking at Parker and remembering his own youth. That has to be why this segment exists!"
"That makes sense, but Parker is just so pure and naive."
"Watching these tiny moments of Parker's life really takes me back to my own high school days..."
"Yeah... life really is beautiful when you're young."
Standing near the tall windows of the command center, the Director stared out at the horizon. The towering light giant remained anchored between heaven and earth, its majestic aura growing noticeably stronger even as it displayed these intimate, quiet memories of Parker's life.
The Director shook his head, letting out a soft, heavy sigh from deep within his chest.
The screen continued its replay. Once clear of the school gates, Parker didn't bother waiting for the crowded exits to clear. He bounded upward, vaulting cleanly over the perimeter fence in a single, fluid motion before jogging down the street toward his favorite corner bodega.
"Hey, what's up?" Pushing the door open, Parker greeted the owner like family.
The middle-aged shopkeeper leaned over the counter, smiling warmly. "Hey, man."
"What's up, Mr. Delmar?" Parker reached over and picked up two small packages of candy.
"Hey, Mr. Parker. Number five, right?" Mr. Delmar asked, already knowing his regular order.
Parker pointed toward the back counter. "Yeah, um, and with pickles, and can you smush it down real flat? Thanks."
He pressed his hands together in a quick squishing gesture to demonstrate.
"You got it, boss." As an assistant stepped up to help prepare the sandwich, Mr. Delmar leaned over with a mischievous grin. "How's your aunt?"
Parker froze for a fraction of a second, pursing his lips awkwardly before managing, "Yeah, she's all right."
"She's a very hot Italian woman," Mr. Delmar praised playfully, an exaggerated, humorous expression breaking across his face.
Parker squared his shoulders, firing back a quick counter: "How's your daughter?"
The shopkeeper's warm smile vanished instantly, his expression turning stone-cold. "Ten Dollars."
Parker pointed at the handwritten menu sign in disbelief. "Ten dollars."
Mr. Delmar glared at him sternly. "For that comment, 10 dollars."
Parker held up his hands, chuckling helplessly. "Hey, come on. I'm joking. I'm joking."
He fished a folded bill out of his wallet and slapped it onto the counter. "Here's 5 dollars."
Giving him one last fake scowl, Mr. Delmar snatched the bill and turned around to stroke the shop cat lounging on the counter.
"What's up, Murph? How you doing, buddy?"
"So how's school?"
"Ah, it's boring." Parker admitted, "Got better things to do."
"Stay in school, kid." Mr. Delmar advised earnestly, gesturing around at his cozy, cluttered space. "Otherwise, you're gonna end up like me."
Parker looked around the warm shop, offering a genuine smile. "This is great."
The owner wrapped up the hot meal and handed it across the counter with pride. "Best sandwiches in Queens."
Taking his food, Parker slipped out the front door and darted into a quiet, deserted alleyway out of sight. In one practiced motion, he shed his jacket and pulled his signature red-and-blue suit from his backpack. Once dressed, he used a quick burst of web-fluid to pin his backpack securely against the high brick wall.
He reached down and pressed the spider emblem centered on his chest. Instantly, the loose fabric snapped tight, conforming perfectly to his form. With a powerful leap, he launched himself onto the rooftop above.
For the rest of the afternoon, he moved through the neighborhood like a local guardian angel, swinging gracefully through the streets, stopping a petty bike thief, waving to a group of cheerful commuters waiting at the bus stop, giving clear directions to a confused elderly lady, performing a crisp backflip for an admiring street vendor, and balancing casually along rooftop ledges.
They were all minor, everyday deeds, but his heart ached for something bigger; he desperately wanted to prove himself on a real, meaningful mission.
As dusk settled over the city, bathing the skyline in golden light, Parker perched on the edge of a high roof, munching on his sandwich while dialing Happy's number. He babbled eagerly into the voicemail, sharing every detail of his day, but as usual, no one picked up.
Suddenly, his sharp eyes caught a suspicious flick of movement down on the corner street. A group of figures wearing strange masks was huddled around an ATM, working quietly in the shadows.
Parker's eyes lit up beneath his mask, his mood soaring instantly. "Ahh, finally."