The Subway
The night air bit cold as Miles Morales slipped back into the abandoned subway tunnel, hoodie pulled tight, sneakers scuffing against concrete. His heart hammered with the same question over and over:
What the hell bit me?
He reached the spot where the mural still glowed faintly in spray-painted rebellion. His fingers brushed the wall, searching. Then he saw it.
The spider. The same one from before, black and blue with the glowing "42" burned into its abdomen.
Only now, it was glitching.
Not crawling. Not alive in the normal sense. Its body flickered, jagged pixels stuttering, as though reality itself couldn't hold it together.
Miles staggered back, fear spiking. "Nope. Nope. This ain't normal."
Then his skin prickled. A tingling sensation. Like a whisper in his skull. His spider-sense.
"Duck."
He didn't think. He dropped flat.
A massive green tail tore through the space where he had been standing, shattering the wall with a thunderous crack. Dust rained down as a roar echoed in the chamber.
Miles scrambled to his feet and froze.
Out of the shadows unfurled a nightmare: Norman Osborn, but no longer human. Twisted by mutation, he loomed as a hulking, scaled monster with claws like blades, leathery wings stretching wide, eyes burning with feral madness. The Green Goblin reborn.
And he wasn't alone.
Perched on the pipes above, sleek and lethal in violet-black, was the Prowler.
But before Miles could scream, another figure crashed into the fight.
Spider-Man.
Not just any Spider-Man. The Spider-Man of this world, older, experienced, his movements sharp as lightning. He slammed into Osborn's jaw, webbing snapping taut across the chamber.
"Norman! Shut it down before you tear reality apart!"
"It's not up to me!!!" Osborn roared back, wings beating hurricane-force gusts.
Behind them, the super collider thrummed. Energy built into a catastrophic hum, its rings spinning faster and faster, arcs of neon tearing across the tunnel.
Miles pressed himself into the shadows, heart in his throat. He could barely breathe. He was watching the impossible. Heroes, villains and something beyond all comprehension.
The Collider Ignites
Spider-Man vaulted, landing on the roof. With a few taps he found the collider's console. He entered the access key and his fingers kept flying across controls. "Almost there—"
But the Prowler's claws raked the metal, forcing him back. Osborn surged forward, seizing Spidey in monstrous claws. With a bone-shaking roar, he dragged him upward. Straight into the collider's convergence point.
Miles's eyes widened in horror.
The machine's energy flared. White, then violet, then colors no human eye was meant to see.
In that instant, Spiderman saw it. A glimpse, fleeting but infinite. Threads connecting universes. Variants of himself, of everyone. And at the center: Wilson Fisk, clinging to an impossible dream, using this machine to rip open reality so that he can ressurect his wife Vanessa and son Richard.
If Fisk succeeded, the cost would be infinite.
The machine screamed. Sparks erupted. And then....
It shattered.
The collider overloaded, a scientist's voice crackling through an intercom before the blast consumed it:
"For a fraction of a second, it connected six other dimensions!!!!!"
Then the collider chamber detonated. Concrete split, metal groaned, flames devoured everything.
Spider-Man fell, battered, broken but alive. Barely.
The End of a Spider
Smoke choked the air. Miles stumbled, trying to see through the haze. Spider-Man crawled toward him, mask cracked, one lens broken.
"You." His voice was hoarse, trembling. "You've… got powers now, don't you?"
Miles blinked, stammering. "How... how did you...?"
"I can feel it. I'll… I'll show you. Teach you a few things. But first…" He coughed, blood staining his mask. "You have to survive this and keep this safe." Said Spiderman as he shoved an override key. " Insert the key into the port and press the green button."
Before Miles could answer, the ground shook. A massive figure emerged from the smoke. Wilson Fisk. Kingpin himself, his frame like a wall of muscle and rage.
Above them, high on the collider's framework, the control hub gleamed with red emergency lights.
Spider-Man's voice was strained, but his tone steady as Miles crept closer:
"Kid, listen. That machine...it'll collapse the city if it keeps running. You have to destroy it."
Miles swallowed hard. "I... I don't know if I can..."
"You can." Peter's smile was tired but genuine. "I'll teach you… when this is over."
But the moment never came.
Kingpin's towering form emerged from the shadows of the collider chamber. His fists cracked like thunder as he stepped forward, rage carved into every line of his face.
"You think you can stop me?" Kingpin snarled. Then his eyes caught a flicker.... Miles's silhouette, frozen in terror on a catwalk above.
His voice dropped into a growl.
"Kill that guy."
The Prowler's mask gleamed under the collider's glow as he leapt toward the shadows, claws unsheathing. Miles bolted, his heart in his throat.
Below, Spider-Man staggered, bloodied and exhausted. He coughed, tried to rise.
"Wilson… you can't bring them back. The machine won't give you Vanessa. Or Richard. It'll only destroy everything."
For a heartbeat, grief flickered in Kingpin's eyes. Then it twisted into pure rage.
"Shut up."
The blow came like a hammer. One fist. Then another. And another. Flesh and blood cracked against the floor until Spider-Man was still.
Miles watched in horror, unable to scream, his small hands clutching the override key so tightly it cut into his skin.
Miles ran.
Feet pounding, lungs burning, vision blurred with tears. He barely heard the Prowler's pursuit. The scrape of claws, the growl of jet boots but panic drove him harder. Alleyways, fire escapes, rooftops. He stumbled, crawled and finally slipped into the night, losing his hunter by sheer desperation.
By the time he reached the apartment of his home, he was shaking. His father burst into the room with his service gun in hand but his expression froze when he saw Miles. " Hey, dad? Can I crash here for the night?" " Yeah, sure." Replied Jefferson and shut the door. His parents' voices floated from the living room, the TV blaring breaking news.
"Spider-Man… is dead."
The words shattered him. He collapsed into his bed, pulling the sheets over his head, trembling as the weight of it pressed down.
The world had lost its hero. And he had watched it happen.
The Ping
Across the city, in a quiet Air B&B, two dimensional gauntlets blinked red. A sharp ping echoed in the room, dragging Peter and Gwen from their sleep.
Peter groaned, reaching for the device. His eyes widened at the data. "Dimensional spike. Massive one. Location Abandoned Subway station."
Gwen sat up, hair tousled, worry etched on her face. "What kind of spike?"
Peter's throat tightened. He scanned the data, piecing it together. "A collider. It fired and it connected six other dimensions for a brief moment including ours."
Peter then turned on the TV and it was showing the news of Spiderman's passing in every channel.
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
Peter leaned back against the wall, rubbing his face. "I should've found it. I should've..."
"Pete..." Gwen reached for his hand, squeezing tight.
But Peter shook his head, guilt burning in his chest. "No. It's obvious now. Some events… they're fixed. The universe forces them, no matter what we do."
His voice cracked, low. "And now this world doesn't have a Spider-Man."
The gauntlet pulsed again, quiet and cold. Outside, the city grieved.
And somewhere in Brooklyn, Miles Morales lay awake, unknowingly carrying the weight of the web.
Read 33 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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