Chapter 70: Hey, Is That You, Bully Maguire?
"So how am I supposed to know when the mission's complete? Ancient One, you maddening riddler."
Ethan was muttering to himself at an outdoor café just outside the museum at Columbia University.
Before she'd sent him off, Ethan had asked her that exact question — how will I know when I'm done? — and all she'd given him was:
"You'll know when you know."
And then she had shoved a still-completely-lost Ethan straight into a tear in spacetime.
Ethan wasn't sure whether that was her vote of confidence in his abilities, or petty revenge for the way he'd flexed on her with the portal trick two days ago.
He'd been in this parallel universe for two days now.
The city looked eerily like his. Same Big Apple. Same forest of skyscrapers.
The differences were telling. There was no Stark Tower here. There was, however, an Oscorp Tower.
Calling this place a parallel universe was maybe inaccurate. It was more like Spider-Man's universe and nothing else.
No Iron Man. No S.H.I.E.L.D. No Kamar-Taj.
Spider-Man himself didn't seem to have shown up yet either. Ethan had picked up the Daily Bugle every morning, and there was no signature rant from a certain loud man about a certain web-slinger.
Ethan still wasn't sure which Spider-Man universe this was.
"Assuming nothing goes sideways, I should find out today." Ethan had worked out — through a few quiet inquiries — that a local high school was bussing a tour group to the spider exhibit at the Columbia museum today.
Which was why he was dressed as a tourist, parked at this café, playing the waiting game.
If the cards landed right, today he was going to meet this universe's Peter Parker.
Elsewhere:
"HEY — STOP THE BUS — STOP THE BUS!"
A skinny kid in glasses and a striped shirt was hammering the window of a school bus, running alongside it.
"Please — please stop!" He was sprinting, begging the bus to stop.
This was the sad, desperate figure Ethan had come to find. Peter Parker of this parallel universe.
The driver saw him, laughed, and — instead of stopping — sped up.
"Grab yourself a cab, Parker!"
The students on the bus were howling along with the driver, nobody even pretending they wanted to help.
Eventually, a redheaded girl in the back — mid-makeout with her boyfriend — looked up, saw what was happening, and frowned. This was Peter's neighbor. Mary Jane Watson.
Whether out of basic decency or neighborly obligation, she stepped forward, tilted her head at the driver, and snapped:
"Stop the bus. He's been running since Woodhaven Avenue."
The driver — probably more afraid of a complaint than he was committed to being a jerk — finally pulled over.
Poor Peter, after a full ten-minute sprint, finally got to climb aboard.
He was panting, gasping out: "Thanks — sorry — I'm late —"
The second he finished the sentence, the mockery started up, a chorus of sneers and laughter. A few kids were folding paper scraps to flick at him.
Peter had been through this before. He just wanted to find a seat and sit down.
But every time he spotted an open seat, the kid next to it would slap both hands across it, visibly disgusted:
"Don't even think about it, Parker, you freak."
Peter just kept walking, cringing inward, moving down the aisle as every other open seat got refused the same way.
He was too beaten down to force one. He just kept walking to the back.
When he passed Mary Jane, he gave her a hopeful little smile.
Mary Jane was still tucked under her boyfriend's arm. She looked away. She didn't want the visibility of being connected to Peter Parker either.
Peter lingered on her a beat too long — and one of the class bullies hooked a foot out and tripped him.
Peter went down hard. His glasses flew.
The bus howled again. This was their sport.
The bus pulled away to its destination through a soundtrack of laughter.
Peter sat on the floor of the aisle, and something in him sank.
After about two hours, Ethan finally spotted him: Peter Parker, part of the school tour group.
Ethan left the café and made his approach.
Peter was at that moment trying, once again, to say hi to his neighbor. Mary Jane was, in fact, saying hi — just not to him. To her best friend, standing right behind him.
Peter's face was doing that specific flavor of public embarrassment when a voice floated up behind him, warm and conspiratorial:
"My guy. If you like her, go get her. You're not gonna land that being a simp about it."
Peter turned. A stranger was standing behind him, grinning. Peter didn't recognize him.
Ethan, meanwhile, had just confirmed the universe. Tobey Maguire version Peter Parker. The most painfully awkward, painfully real, painfully sincere Spider-Man.
And Ethan couldn't help feeling a small pang of affection. Back in his previous life, Spider-Man (2002) had been the first superhero movie he'd ever seen.
Tobey-Peter didn't have the swagger of Iron Man or the square-jawed heroism of Cap. But there was something about this version — about how real he was — that had always landed hardest for Ethan.
Peter squinted at the confident stranger.
"...Do I know you?"
"Ethan Cross. I know you. Peter Parker, right? We were classmates. Don't tell me you don't remember me?" Ethan put on the most innocent face in his arsenal.
Peter paused, genuinely trying. I don't think I've ever had a Chinese classmate? But this guy knew his name.
Maybe I did? Peter thought, uncertain.
"You really don't remember? You're the Peter who was always getting picked on, right? I used to get picked on too — for being Asian. That's how I remembered you."
Ethan was making it up on the fly. Though to be fair — an Asian kid getting picked on in the land of the free wasn't exactly a stretch.
Peter actually looked surprised. Another kid with the same scars.
Something softened in his face. He reached out and shook Ethan's hand.
"All students — keep up! Don't fall behind!"
The tour guide called them forward before Peter could ask any follow-up questions.
Peter gave Ethan an apologetic look. "I'm sorry — I have to go. Can we catch up later? Grab a coffee or something?"
It was rare that Peter got treated warmly by a classmate. He wanted to hold onto this.
Ethan waved him off. Go, go.
Then he followed along behind the group at a casual distance. He was, after all, here to witness the birth of Spider-Man. A man's got to see the sights.
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