Marvel: Spiderman In A Matriarchal Universe (EvilPen)

[ThierryScott]

No powers. No mask. Just Peter Parker in a gender-flipped Marvel universe where women rule, men are rare, and everyone wants a piece of him. Time to build a new kind of harem — of heroes.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 1: Who Am I?

Usually I wake up fast, as if someone flipped a switch. One moment I was asleep and dreaming, the next I am ready for action. That is a very useful quality, especially when you only have a couple of hours left to sleep and you absolutely must be at work or school in the morning. So this time, it was different.

I was stuck in some kind of borderline half sleep. More precisely, I understood that I was sleeping, I was fully aware of my situation, but still could not wake up, almost like sleep paralysis, just without the panic. Although this time, I could probably find a few reasons to be afraid.

First, I did not remember falling asleep while sitting in a car, judging by the shaking, with a severe headache and ringing in my ears. What is happening, am I drunk?

The car suddenly hit a bump, and I cheerfully smacked the back of my head against some metal thing overhead. Damn. Now I understand why my head hurts so much and my ears are ringing.

The pain helped me wake up, though I would have preferred to do it on my own. I tried to curse, but could not. My lips were sealed together, probably with duct tape. I finally pried my eyes open.

Darkness.

More precisely, there were small glimpses of light, but everything was blurry, I could not make out a thing.

Do I also have a bag over my head? If this is some stupid prank, someone is going to get hurt.

But who?

I suddenly realized I could not remember anyone who would play such a prank on me.

I did not remember anything at all. A massive hangover, or, who knows, amnesia?

I tried to move my hands, but could not. They were tied. What if this is not a joke? Was I really kidnapped? But why would anyone want me? I... I... Damn, I do not remember anything about myself. Who even am I?

And there it was. Panic.

Oh God, how terrifying, I do not want to die.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Cancel the hysterics.

The pain faded a little, and even the ringing in my ears began to subside. I caught fragments of speech.

«He is such a mess, I don't even want to remember.» A female voice, rough, with perfect American pronunciation. I seemed to know English, which was good, but for some reason I had trouble grasping the meaning of what was said, as if I had not spoken English for a couple of hundred years, probably since my school days.

Wait. School. I started to remember. Good.

«Come on, tell me. This is a real date, with a man. You have to tell us.» Another voice, also female, a bit higher and softer.

Again the first voice. The woman was telling some story, but I focused on remembering something about myself. And I began to succeed. I remembered my childhood, regular school where I was teased because I could not communicate with my peers. I remembered my classmates: Mary Jane Watson, my flighty first love; Flash Thompson, the dumb jock football player who constantly bullied me; Harry Osborn, my first and only friend, who quickly forgot about me once he became popular. I remembered my relatives: Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I remembered Uncle Ben dying in my arms. I remembered my first real girlfriend, Gwen Stacy, who also died in my arms because of my mistake, because I was a stupid, overconfident teenager who thought he could be a superhero. Exactly, I remembered. I am a superhero. I am Spider Man. I protect New York City, defending it at night, and by day I work as a journalist at the Daily Bugle, selling my own photos for pennies. Damn, I am such an idiot. What the hell is wrong with me? Calm down. Maybe I will remember something else later that will explain everything.

I tried to relax, to get my thoughts in order. My mouth was extremely dry, my tongue rough like sandpaper, scraping against the roof of my mouth with every movement. Had they been dragging me through the desert? Wait, something was wrong. I tried to figure out what had caught my attention. I ran my tongue over my teeth. There it was. Right there should be a gap, that tooth had been knocked out by Doctor Octopus when I tried to stop him during a bank robbery. What the hell was I even messing around with an ordinary person for so long? I could have just hit him once on the head and knocked him out. Do not get distracted, Peter. The tooth. Yes, the tooth that should not be there. I did not remember getting an implant, and a new one never grew back, though I never stopped hoping. What the hell? Okay, there is another way.

I tensed my right foot, carefully pulling my toes upward, expecting to feel it. Nothing again. But I was supposed to have a damn tracker in my leg, implanted by Fury's people while I was unconscious. An ordinary person would not notice such a small thing, but I knew from the start that SHIELD was watching me with that tracker.

And then I noticed another strangeness. I was weak. No. No. No. This could not be. I was an ordinary person. Damn, I had somehow lost my superpowers.

Or maybe this is not my body. But how is that possible? Oh, I know. A virtual simulation. That is why there is no picture. To stop me from figuring out the deception, it is much easier to make me believe I have a bag over my head than to create an image indistinguishable from reality.

And at that moment, something changed in my head. I began to understand the stranger's speech much more easily.

«The wetter his eyes, the drier I get between my legs. When I decided we had to get out of there, he got all weepy, started doing those poses, puffed out his lips like a child. I wanted to punch him so badly. These men, they cannot even fake anger properly. I left.»

How stupid. What a mess. I do not know how they made me believe I did not understand English, but it only confirmed my suspicion. This is all a virtual simulation. But for some reason I do not remember anything after... I cannot even say exactly where my memories cut off.

«Seriously?» the second girl exclaimed. «You ungrateful bitch. You did not let me make a move on him, and then you did not even take the chance yourself.»

«Damn, I agree,» a third female voice. «You are just a fucking bitch. He is a man. What did you expect, that he would suddenly turn into a woman? You cannot demand femininity from a man. You have to be gentle with them. You got such a chance, and you blew it.»

What nonsense are these women talking? I do not understand a thing.

«You know what? Go fuck yourselves, both of you. And your men too. They are just useless garbage. No way am I going to put up with all those mannerisms, hangups, endless demands, and tantrums. And for what? So that he can wiggle his limp d*ck inside my v*gina once or twice a week? No thanks. I would rather find myself a girlfriend, give her a huge rubber dildo, and let her f*ck me with that d*ck every night in a way no man ever could. And I certainly will not have to share it with anyone. That d*ck will be mine alone, every single night.»

«And then your girlfriend will get married, become some boy with a limp d*ck's fourth wife, and give him wonderful children. She will have a happy, big family, and you will be left alone with your hard rubber dildo. Bitch.»

Well, now I know this is all fake. They probably tried to block my memories to keep me from figuring out the deception, but something went wrong. It is time to stop this circus. I started tugging at the ropes and trying to draw the attention of the NPCs around me, hoping they had a script to take off my bag and gag.

«Oh, look, baby Parker is awake.» Someone sat down to my right, pressed up close, then put an arm around me. «Don't be afraid, boy. We won't hurt you.»

All I could do was grunt and shake my head, which I did.

«Let's take the bag off him. There is no way he can remember the way.»

«Hey, we cannot show him our faces. What are you doing, you idiot?» That was the one who had told the story about the whiny guy.

«Then pull a stocking over your head if you are afraid, you bitch.» That was the NPC who had sat down next to me. «Alright, let's take this nasty thing off.»

Finally, they removed the damn bag, and I could see... a blurry haze.

What the hell. Your simulation is complete garbage. I cannot see a thing. It is as if I have twenty twenty vision. Oh, right, this is another way to hide the bad graphics. Make me believe I have poor eyesight. I get it. They tried to make me forget that I had gained superpowers.

«Oh, right. He cannot see without his glasses,» said the third NPC. Obviously, a hint in case I did not figure out my «poor eyesight» myself.

«Ah, you are such a cute, smart boy.» She ruffled my hair. «So listen to my advice. Do whatever they tell you, and nothing bad will happen to you.»

«Believe me, we feel bad about having to treat a boy like you this way.» That was the girl who had talked about masculinity and men. Now I knew she was sitting directly across from me. «But we have no choice. The boss said only you can help with the Doc problem. Most importantly, don't be afraid. If everything goes well, we will return you home safe and sound.»

«Except maybe use you a little... Ouch, Archie, what the hell are you pushing me for?»

«Stop talking nonsense. He is not here for that. And if your cunt is itching, then go fuck yourself with that rubber dick you were telling us about.» A new voice, again female. Not just her voice. I could also see the blurry silhouette of the speaker, who had just elbowed the other NPC in the side.

«I was just joking. Why are you so wound up? I do not need your Parker. Besides, he has...»

«Stupid jokes, Mumbler. You better shut up before it is too late.»

«Yes, bitch, we already understood that you prefer a rubber dick to a real one, so stay away from Peter.» The NPC hugging me joined the argument.

I saw her face literally ten centimeters from mine, but I could not make out a thing. It is strange that in every way except vision, this virtual world is as good as reality. Touch, sound, smell, pain. All feels real.

«The gag is probably bothering you. Should we take it off?» The NPC turned to her companions.

«Even if he screams, no one will hear. We are already out of town.»

«Then get ready. It will hurt a little.» She hooked the edge of the tape with her fingernail and began to slowly peel it off.

«God damn it, just rip it off already.» I said, jerking my head to speed up the process. Something fell out of my chest pocket.

«Hey, something fell.» The girl across from me leaned down and picked up the object. «It's a glasses case. So you were trying to tell us you have spare glasses.»

«No, you bitch. I was trying to tell you to shove this stupid prank up your...» And then she put the glasses on me, and I stopped mid sentence.

«A boy should not curse so dirty,» said the one hugging me. I could only stare open mouthed from one girl to the next because such a realistic image could not be graphics, and unfortunately, this was not a prank.



****A/N*****

Femininity in this world is the quality of an exemplary woman, that is, the strong sex, i.e., masculinity in our understanding. Keep such nuances in mind going forward.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 2 : Don't Bring Aunt May Into This



While I was trying to process what had happened, it was time to leave the vehicle. Apparently, I had slept through most of the trip. Judging by what I could see from the inside, we had been traveling in a closed cargo van without windows, like the hundreds that cruise the city streets. Except this one was clearly not meant for transporting ordinary people. Seats, ten on each side, lined the walls of the vehicle. Besides mine, four others were occupied by the women accompanying me, all in formal suits.

«Out you go, gentlemen,» said Archie, the one who had earlier silenced Mumbler. Apparently, she was the leader here.

Two of the women grabbed me under my arms and lifted me to my feet. Mumbler, who turned out to be a black woman, opened the rear door of the van and stepped out first. The leader exited last. I was clearly being kept in the center.

We found ourselves in the courtyard of a luxurious mansion. A couple of tired, indifferent guards were loitering by the gate. Beyond the hedge, tree branches were visible, but I wasn't allowed to admire the scenery for long. They immediately led me toward the two story mansion.

Actually, they didn't even need to hold me. Once we got out of the van, the women simply made their presence known and lightly held me by the elbows. A remarkably gentle approach for kidnappers.

Inside, the house turned out to be just as luxurious as outside, perhaps even a bit excessive in my opinion.

«Bobbi, One Two, take him to Cindy's office,» Archie commanded in a firm voice.

The office in question was on the second floor. Mumbler knocked politely with her knuckles before entering.

«Cindy, we brought him.»

«Archie, how did it go?» Cindy was a plump, older woman. She looked at us through tinted glasses, smoking a cigar while seated behind a wide desk cluttered with papers.

«According to plan. We picked him up on his way from school. No one saw us,» Archie reported.

«Excellent, excellent,» Cindy looked at me. «Sit down, Peter. And you... Archie, why did you bring all of them here? And take those ropes off him. Good Lord, he's not a terrorist, just a schoolboy.»

Archie nodded toward me, signaling Bobbi to follow the boss's order, then dismissed One Two and Mumbler.

A few seconds later, after Bobbi had untied the knot, I finally managed to rub my hands together.

«You're probably wondering why you're here,» Cindy blew a puff of smoke into the air and looked me in the eye.

I wasn't in a hurry to answer. I was distracted, watching the play of light and dust through the lenses of my glasses. Nothing like graphics. Pretending to wipe my lenses with my sleeve, I checked for blind spots in my eye, as I used to do as a child. Cindy's head obediently disappeared. Damn, everything felt so real.

«I think you're going to tell me.»

«Look at this. Do you know what this is?» The woman handed me a fairly advanced tablet. On the dark screen was a diagram of some device with a huge number of parts and explanatory formulas. Naturally, I couldn't say what it was off the top of my head. Cindy apparently thought otherwise.

«I don't...» I started to admit that I didn't understand a thing, when my eyes fell on my own reflection on the dark monitor of the device. «...it's a stabilizer circuit for controlling incoherent radiation under extreme...»

I cut myself off mid sentence. What was that? I looked again at my reflection. Yes, it was me. Peter Parker. What had surprised me so much?

«I see you remembered,» Cindy continued, not noticing my hesitation. «Dr. Stans, who published that article six months ago... she's in a coma after trying to use the emitter on herself. Something went wrong. You will finish her work.»

«Dr. Stans's article was severely criticized, and the theory was deemed unsound.» I didn't remember reading that article, but I said it without any doubt.

«Don't play dumb with me, boy. Stans worked for me, and I saw the letter Peter Parker wrote to her. Archie, remind me what it said.»

«With an expansion to the theory.»

«Exactly. Thanks to your letter, Stans almost managed to complete the project. But she made another mistake and messed up during the experiment. You will finish her work, boy. Do it quickly, and you can go back to school. Aunt May won't even have time to start worrying.»

I flinched. Because I realized what had been bothering me. My reflection was far too young. At this age, I hadn't yet gained my Spider Man powers, which would explain both the tooth and the lack of the implant. But she had let something slip. She said «Aunt May will worry.» Yet, by the standard story, Uncle Ben should have been alive. You slipped up, you bitch. But I still couldn't find any confirmation that what was happening wasn't real. More precisely, I was almost completely sure I wouldn't find any.

---

In the laboratory, Bobbi was left to keep an eye on me. However, the supervision wasn't much of a problem. Right now, I was completely alone. The girl had flitted off somewhere, saying she would be back in five minutes.

Amazing irresponsibility. Were they provoking me into doing something rash? Could this Bobbi really be so careless around me? I was a damn superhero, and she was supposed to be watching me.

Alright, let's test something.

I took off my glasses. They would get in the way. I put my hands on the floor. Hmm, I had wanted to do a handstand, but now I realized that in this body, even ten push ups would be a feat.

Well, push ups would work too.

Twelve times. I managed to do twelve push ups. I was completely exhausted. That was the limit. There was no strength left in my arms to lift my torso off the floor. I really was a powerless teenager again. Feeling so weak, so helpless... it was unpleasant.

I needed to look around.

This Dr. Stans had set herself up nicely. My eyes fell on an SEM.

Working with an SEM is like looking at satellite images. You are in space, looking down at a complex earthly landscape. Then you turn a little black wheel, and the surface zooms in. The zoom feels like a fall. As if you've been dropped from orbit, and the Earth is rushing toward you, only you're falling faster than actual gravity would allow, faster than terminal velocity, unbelievably fast, unbelievably far, and the landscape grows, and it seems like impact is imminent, but there is no impact because the image grows even closer and clearer, and you still never reach the ground. Like the old fable of the frog that jumps half the distance to a log, then half again, and again, never actually reaching it. That is an electron microscope. An eternal fall into the image, with no bottom in sight.

I increased the magnification to 14,000, focusing like the Eye of God. Searching for the ultimate, indivisible truth. You can't see the bottom because it doesn't exist.

Under the glass was a blood sample. I chose a more reasonable magnification for working with blood. This was what she had tried to irradiate? The table was covered in a thin layer of dust, barely noticeable, but still there. Several days had passed since someone had worked here, yet the blood cells were still active.

Okay, I needed this woman's computer. I had seen blood like this once before in one person. Not exactly, but still. If this was what I thought it was... where did it come from?

Hmm... what's the problem? Windows crashed on startup. Was the computer broken?

Nothing ever works right the first time.

Perhaps someone had tried to access Stans's records before me. Hmm, before the screen went dark, I saw a line of garbled characters. Probably a font or registry error. I wasn't particularly skilled with computers, but I thought I could try to restore the registry to a working state. Then we would see.

Attempting to roll back to the last working configuration didn't work. That would have been too easy.

«Not Aunt May's cooking, of course, but it's edible.» Bobbi's voice came from behind me. In her hands was a tray of fast food.

Coming over to me, Bobbi set the tray on the table, right on top of Stans's scorched lab journal.

«Oh, trying to get the Doc's computer running? No luck, I tell you right away. It died the day after the Doc fell into a coma. But the hard drive is still in there. I could bring... um, that thing for reading hard drives. There was one around here somewhere.»

«Not yet.»

I used the system recovery tool, but found no restore points. What the hell? This Stans was annoying me more and more.

Without leaving the recovery environment, I opened the command prompt and used it to launch Notepad. Using Notepad, I navigated to the «configs» folder on the system drive. Then I displayed all the files in that folder, found the registry hives responsible for the system and programs, and added a random set of letters to their extensions. Then I copied backup copies of those files into the «configs» folder. Thank the gods this Stans had been smart enough not to disable the task scheduler. Otherwise, I would have had to remove the hard drive.

«I hope this works,» I said, and rebooted the computer.

«I brought you some food,» Bobbi hesitated, seeing that I had finished my work. «It's not home cooking, but it'll keep you alive. The Doc often worked without leaving the lab, and I bought food for her too... wow, it worked.»

This time, Windows successfully reached the welcome screen, but now it was asking for the password of a user named SuperMegaAdmin.

«How old did you say this Stans of yours was?» Realizing what I meant, the girl hesitated for some reason.

«Well, actually, I helped the Doc set up the equipment... but I don't really understand this stuff. And you, kid, are a real hacker.» The girl looked at me as if I had performed a miracle. She had heard that I was supposed to finish and correct Stans's research, yet against that background, fixing the computer was a mere trifle. She was just trying to dodge the awkward topic.

«I see. Well, now we just need to reset the password for this... SuperMegaAdmin,» I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Bobbi blushed as red as a poppy.

«There's no need for that. I know the password.» She bent down to the keyboard and quickly typed a combination. Did she have to press her chest against me like that?

«Seriously?» I said in surprise. «The password is 'password'?»

«I... well, yes. What's wrong with that?» She jumped back from the keyboard as if it were on fire.

Chuckling quietly, I began searching for useful information on the computer. Ah, here was the cause of the crash. Someone had stuffed a ton of incompatible Skyrim mods onto it. Apparently, some of them were writing to the same registry sections while running... SuperMegaAdmin.

Oh, finally, information on the Doc's projects. Damn, what a strange feeling. I was seeing this project for the first time, yet I recognized it. And this scan of a hand drawn diagram and formulas... the handwriting looked very much like mine. This was messed up.

For the next few hours, I fell out of reality, digging through the Doc's work and, apparently, my own. By the end, I even started to develop something like a memory of working on this research. But it wasn't a real memory. You know how, when someone tells you about something you did, but you don't remember it yourself, your brain creates an illusory memory, a kind of model. That was what happened here. I hoped that as the mass of false memories accumulated, the real ones would awaken. I simply could not have forgotten working on this research. More precisely, on the technical part, the emitter schematics. But the formulas for some kind of serum that was supposed to affect the patient in combination with the emitter were unfamiliar to me.

I should have guessed the emitter's purpose. How could I have given something like that to someone without finding out what substances they intended to combine with my work? It was obvious that the settings and emission structure would have to change depending on the type of reagents. Hmm, I might have considered that too obvious, especially for a scientist. Could Stans have used my specific emitter configuration for her formula without adapting it? If she had been my student, I would have made her memorize all the safety rules for every piece of equipment. How could anyone be so reckless? And to test it on herself? That she only ended up in a coma was a miracle. Of course, Cindy hadn't told anyone what the Doc was working on. The doctors simply couldn't or hadn't yet discovered the other consequences. Wait, but this Cindy was a criminal. Maybe they hadn't sent Stans to a hospital at all. They might be keeping her right here, in the mansion.

«Bobbi, tell me something.» I began, but turning around in my chair, I saw that the girl had fallen sound asleep while I was working.

Some guard she was. And how could I use this opportunity?

If she was security, then I was the Pope. I walked over to the girl. She was sleeping peacefully, sitting on a backless stool, her face resting on the table. Her boyishly short, light bangs fell over her eyes and face. I waved my hand in front of her nose, snapped my fingers near her ear. No reaction. Maybe she was pretending, to see what I would do? Hmm, she had a gun. The holster was attached to her side, on her left. If the girl was pretending, she wouldn't let me take the gun. I unbuttoned the holster and pulled out the weapon. I had handled police toys a couple of times before, though I personally disliked noisy, smoky firearms. I put the barrel to the girl's temple. Bobbi slept on.

I put the gun back and, as a final test, placed my palm on the girl's chest. No reaction. I squeezed it, gently massaging through her shirt. No, she was definitely asleep. This was the ultimate test. After all, this Bobbi wasn't Natasha Romanoff, ready for anything.

Leaving the girl alone, I walked to the exit. An electronic lock. Four buttons were more worn than the others. If all the digits were used once, there were only twenty four combinations. I could try all the possibilities, but locks like this surely had a safety mechanism. I didn't need an alarm in the middle of the night. Taking a table knife, I pried open the panel. Inside, I found a port that accepted electronic connections. Got it. I could have taken the guard's gun and tried to force my way out of captivity, but where was I and where was force? My firearm handling skills left much to be desired. If I had at least my spider sense, I might have risked relying on the gun.

In principle, I could build a decoder for the door using the equipment in the lab, but that would take more than a day, and I would need internet access for the work. Unfortunately, my head wasn't a supercomputer capable of storing everything.

Stans's computer was currently offline. At least in that regard, my captors had shown some prudence. Although, I remembered seeing an iPhone cable on the desk.

I returned to the table and the sleeping Bobbi. Now then... I again slipped my hands under the girl's jacket, patting her down for pockets. Change, keys, a wallet, a notepad, an extra pistol magazine, a pack of condoms, some pills. No phone. But surely she must have some means of contacting her superiors, even a radio. I stepped back, and my eyes fell on her backside in tight jeans. Found it.

Pulling the iPhone from the girl's back pocket, I plugged it into the computer and went online. First, I found the information I needed for my own escape plan, and I learned my location. In principle, I could call the police right now or even try to contact one of the heroes. Hmm... I couldn't find my Facebook account. Strange. I also wasn't on Twitter or Instagram. Bobbi stirred in her sleep behind me, making my heart skip a couple of beats. Finally, I found a record for Peter Benjamin Parker in my school's database, just to confirm my existence, and decided that was enough for today.

I disconnected the iPhone and carefully covered all traces of my internet activity. Although, given SuperMegaAdmin's skills, I could have just cleared the browser history. Bobbi didn't wake up, not when I returned the phone to her jeans pocket, not when I made noise with the dishes, deciding to have supper.

I wasn't going to attract outside attention yet. Now that I had a couple of escape routes, I felt like figuring out this mess Stans and Cindy had stirred up myself. I was probably too overconfident for a powerless sixteen year old teenager. Well, we would see what my superhero experience was worth. This serum, combined with the emitter, could cause all sorts of trouble. The project was clearly raw. Even I could see that Stans had made several miscalculations while working on the formula. With that approach, the best possible outcome would be the woman's survival. There could be no talk of any practical use.

Besides the refrigerator full of frozen meals, dishes, and a kettle, the laboratory also contained a bed. Obviously, the Doc could work here for days on end. If only I could wash properly in a normal bathroom or shower before sleep, instead of with cold water from the sink. I went to bed but felt a little awkward. Oh, right, my «guard.»

I shook the girl awake and made her lie down properly. She barely woke up and obediently followed all my commands, even mumbling something like «yes, Mom, don't nag» in her sleep a couple of times. There was enough room on the bed for both of us. I wouldn't be surprised if Bobbi and Stans had shared it like this before.

For some reason, I couldn't sleep. My head started hurting again where I had hit it in the van. I remembered what the girls had talked about while we were driving. At the time, I hadn't paid it any mind. I had other things on my mind. Later, I had convinced myself that what was happening wasn't real, so I hadn't paid attention to environmental details that didn't directly involve me. But now... this was all very strange. It didn't feel like a performance put on for me as the sole spectator. And Bobbi didn't give the impression of a professional actress. If anything, she didn't look like someone who could be a professional at anything. So how were those ridiculous conversations to be understood? I wanted to go online again. It felt like I was missing something important, something that should change my entire worldview. Yet, with an effort of will, I pushed the idea aside.

Before falling asleep, I spent a long time thinking about how to improve Stans's work. My last thought was not to delay, because who knew what would happen to the comatose woman. As soon as I sorted out the mess she had made during the experiment, I would act. Otherwise, it might become too late.

I dreamed that I was flying on a spaceship. The dream was filled with fear and despair. We were fleeing from something, and an even greater danger lay ahead. A man was with me. He kept talking to himself and demanded not to be distracted from his work. The ship's walls could become transparent, and through them I watched the Earth. The little blue ball kept receding from us, but against all logic, it did not disappear from view, even when we left the solar system. Other crew members floated toward me, but none of them saw the Earth. They said it was too small to be seen from such a distance. Then the impenetrable darkness of space swallowed me up.

Fear filled my consciousness. The stars disappeared. The ship disappeared. Only I remained, alone in open space with the Earth. The Earth fell toward me. It grew rapidly, and the larger it became, the more horrors I saw. This was what our ship had been fleeing from. The Earth was dying. No, humanity was dying, thrashing in its death throes, and the Earth, like a vast beast, suffered from the parasites clinging to it. Then a Drop fell upon the Earth, a concentration of pure beauty, a symbol of the grandeur of science, a creation of the gods, perfect in its unbreakable fragility. Then the Earth's suffering ceased. The Drop had rid it of the virus of humanity.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 3: Twelve Push Ups

This time I woke up quickly, immediately conscious and aware of where I was. My head had stopped hurting overnight, but touching the back of my skull, I found a bump there. I had long since grown unaccustomed to such things. Possessing a spider's strength, I simply ignored minor annoyances like this. Even during periods when my powers failed me, I could easily fall from a ten story building, landing back first on a car roof, without breaking my spine.

Also, the muscles in my arms and stomach were pleasantly sore. And that was after a measly twelve push ups. Realizing just how weak I was made me feel unbearably ashamed of myself.

I remembered my dream. Such a strange dream. Just remembering it made my heart clench painfully. Apparently, my subconscious was sending signals to my slow, forgetful conscious mind, but how, damn it, was I supposed to interpret a dream like that?

«Get the fuck off my lane, you one button animal.» A muffled but still quite distinct hiss from Bobbi.

Ah, that was what had woken me. Yes, besides Skyrim, the computer had several other games. Judging by her exclamations, Bobbi was playing one of them.

Getting up, I dressed in yesterday's clothes. No, this wouldn't do.

«I hope you didn't install anything on the WORK computer while I was asleep,» I said, standing behind the girl.

«Oh... I, well, the Doc let me play games on her computer when she wasn't using it, you know? I was stuck here with her all the time, and I got bored... and so...» Bobbi lowered her shoulders and tried not to look me in the eye while making excuses.

She hadn't paused the game, and while she was talking, a female voice announced that the enemy team had killed Baron.

«I'll turn it off and... delete all the games. Just please don't tell the boss it was because of me that the computer broke.» She put her hands together in a pleading gesture and looked at me with an imploring gaze.

«Don't delete anything without me from the computer. Go ahead and finish playing.» I turned away and walked toward the refrigerator.

But Bobbi didn't play anymore. She turned off the game and followed me, showering me with thanks. Apparently, the girl really was afraid of Cindy's wrath.

«Alright,» I interrupted her stream of chatter. «Since you're not playing anymore, listen to my terms. There need to be normal ingredients in the refrigerator, something that can be heated up quickly. Throw out all this rotten junk. I need clean clothes, underwear, toiletries, a towel, and everything else like that. And right now, show me the bathroom or shower room.»

Bobbi was taken aback by such pressure and just blinked at me. I continued.

«And anyway, what the hell am I explaining this to you for? You kidnapped me and expected me to work for you. If you want results, give me decent conditions.»

Fortunately, there were no objections. The girl processed the information and began carrying out my orders. Five minutes later, I was standing under the shower, brushing my teeth, and thinking over the information Bobbi had inadvertently let slip that morning.

She had been here with Stans the whole time. I highly doubted she could have been of any use in the research. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see this girl as a scientist's assistant. Playing games on a work station was a great pastime for an assistant, wasn't it? That meant Bobbi had been guarding Stans just as she was guarding me. So the Doc had been held here against her will. But for how long? It was unlikely Stans had been a prisoner when she wrote her article. No, more likely, Cindy had noticed her precisely because of the article. Though, of course, there could be nuances, but that scenario was the most probable. In that case, the scientist's irresponsible attitude toward her work appeared in a new light. She had deliberately sabotaged the process. And another question arose. Who the hell was this Cindy, that she could see potential where the rest of the world could not, in Stans's article?

Questions, questions, questions. Too many questions.

While I was washing up, Bobbi brought fresh clothes, simple sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and underwear.

I got back to work on my predecessor's project. For now, I was just sorting through her old work and mentally estimating what could be done to improve the situation. Despite my solidarity with the victim, I had no intention of creating a working formula and emitter for criminals. And it was far from certain that I could. Not at all certain. At the same time, I was working on assembling a decoder. Things were not as rosy as I had assumed. I had seen a couple of times how easily Tony Stark hacked various security systems using his suit and Jarvis, but among the information I had blindly saved at night, there was nothing nearly as effective.

The lock was not cheap. A four digit code, automatic alarm trigger after three incorrect entry attempts. A decoder capable of resetting the attempt counter through short circuits would take about an hour and a half to guess a four digit code, about 120 combinations per minute. But if you limited it to just the four worn digits, it would only take about twelve seconds. Ultimately, I decided to find out the master key for this lock. I would still have to assemble the decoder and gain access to the lock for a couple of hours, but then I could reset the lock code no matter how many times they changed it. The master key was longer than the password, six digits, which meant weeks of brute forcing. However, the firmware of this lock model had a vulnerability. As soon as you entered four digits that were neither the password nor the master key, the lock would generate an error. Thus, you could find out the first four digits of the master key, and then figure out the remaining two.

Along the way, I made a simple disposable taser, just in case.

Bobbi didn't bother me and didn't even try to watch what I was doing. And when I let her play games on the computer, she wasn't a guard at all. She was a dream.

On the second night, I found out the current lock code using my homemade decoder, then figured out the master key. The lock naturally switched to new key entry mode. That would have been a mess if I had started trying to get the master key right away and couldn't restore the old code. By the way, the code contained digits different from the four worn ones, meaning it had been changed recently.

This cost me five hours of sleep. First, I waited an hour for the mansion to quiet down completely. Then, during the four hours the decoder was running, I didn't dare sleep. My sleep was deep, and waking up on my own at the right time worked about half the time. It could be a useful skill, allowing me not to use an alarm clock, but for some reason it didn't always work. Sometimes, relying on my ability to wake up when I wanted, I would go to bed without an alarm and come to only fourteen hours later, or Aunt May would wake me up when she knew I had to get up early. That same night, I made a short foray into the hallway. The laboratory was underground, and luckily, the security post was nearby. The guard on duty was quite negligent about his duties, as evidenced by the resonant voice of the innkeeper announcing a fight between Rexar and Anduin. The guard himself was not visible. He was in the next room. Only his removed boots and the edge of a sofa were visible in the open doorway. At least he wasn't sleeping.

From this foray, I learned one very important fact. Cameras were only installed outside the mansion, at the gates and the front door. I was already convinced that the laboratory had no obvious surveillance devices, and now I knew which places to avoid when escaping.

By the way, Anduin won.

On the third day, I learned everything there was to know from Stans's records. I was already starting to feel burdened by this forced confinement. Plus, Bobbi no longer stayed overnight with me, so I had no internet access. During this time, I had more or less sorted out the chaos in my head. However, I still couldn't figure out the meaning of that dream, and there were no new messages from my subconscious. One way or another, it was time to get out of there and find out what had happened to me. If I really had been the superhero Spider Man, then how did I end up in the past? And if I was just a sixteen year old teenager, then where did these memories come from? And in either case, I needed to recover my memories of the last few months, maybe even years, of my life.

I had two main escape plans.

First, take Bobbi's gun, force her to lead me out of the mansion, and call the cops using her iPhone. The downsides of this plan were obvious. I won't even bother listing them.

Second, sneak away at night and then call the cops. This plan wasn't ideal either, but I was leaning toward it. Why else had I made the decoder?

There was also a final option, call the cops and become a hostage during the raid. As you might guess, this option was not approved by the high council and didn't even achieve plan status.

---

I left the laboratory again at night, sneaking past the security post. This time, the sounds of a movie came from there. Well, he couldn't play Hearthstone forever.

I couldn't go through the main entrance. There were cameras. So I needed to find some service entrance. A large mansion like this had to have service passages. I had some experience with this sort of thing. I had even learned a few tricks from Felicia. Unfortunately, I didn't have her skills at lock picking and stealthy infiltration. I managed to get into the garage, overcoming three more electronic locks along the way. Much cheaper than the one in the laboratory. I didn't even need a decoder for those. There are models of electronic locks that are a pleasure to hack. You open the back cover and change the access code. The instructions are even there. Very courteous of the manufacturers to provide such an option. It is called the dirty maid method.

But in the garage itself, I encountered an unexpected problem. I didn't know how to drive. I had never needed to. I found the small truck that delivered supplies. I even knew how to hotwire it and steal it. God, how stupid. I didn't want to escape on foot through the forest when I had a perfectly good vehicle ready to be stolen. I would have to hide and wait for the cops to arrest the criminals. I would rather do that at home than at night in the forest.

Okay, combine the first two plans. Like an idiot, I went back to my room to wait for Bobbi. I could try to capture the guard at the post, but her absence would be noticed quickly, just like mine. But Bobbi spent almost the whole day with me. Considering how early she arrived, she had adapted to my schedule. There was a high chance that our absence wouldn't be noticed right away.

Passing by the security post, I heard the Innkeeper's voice again. He announced a defeat, followed by a woman's indignation.

«Fucking face hunters. A class for idiots. I wonder what it's like to play a face hunter...» A guard, women everywhere in this mansion.

Bobbi arrived a little earlier than usual. She had a stack of clean clothes and a tray of fresh food in her hands. Because of her load, she had to close the door with her foot. Strictly speaking, the door would have closed automatically anyway.

I felt a little awkward about tasing such a caring girl, but then I remembered waking up with a headache and a bag over my head, as well as the results of my push ups. Although my doubts didn't completely disappear, I overcame the sympathy I had developed for Bobbi over these past few days.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 4: Memories of the Past Earth

A powerful shock from a high voltage taser can incapacitate a person for half an hour. That did not suit my purposes, so I had reduced the output power of my device to a minimum beforehand. Even so, it was enough for Bobbi to convulse for a few seconds, then slide down the wall and take several minutes to recover.

During that time, I took her weapon, phone, and wallet. With internet access, I decided to find out a couple of facts, and by the time the angry Bobbi got to her feet and realized her situation, I already knew that no hospital in the city had a patient named Amelia Rose Stans.

«Parker...» Bobbi hissed, but I cut her off mid sentence, waving the gun's barrel in front of the girl's face.

«I ask, you answer. First question. Is Stans still in this mansion?» This was truly the most important thing I needed to know. If the Doc had been taken somewhere, then to give the cops grounds for a search, I would have to become a victim and witness myself.

Bobbi remained silent, not rushing to answer the question.

«Don't make this harder than it has to be, sweetheart. Believe me, neither you nor I will like how this develops.» Honestly, I hadn't even thought about what I would do if Bobbi refused to cooperate, but right now... where was this confidence coming from? I had never interrogated anyone before. It seemed I had forgotten some very important moments of my life.

«Yes,» Bobbi finally spat out.

«Where, exactly? Do you know?»

«No,» the girl replied quickly. Too quickly, as if she was scared for Stans.

«Come on. You were with her all that time. Don't you care that she might die here without proper medical help?» Yes, this was clearly the right approach. Surprise and fear for her friend were evident in Bobbi's eyes. «Cindy has no idea what the Doc did to herself. She needs to be examined, and doctors need data on what happened to her. She is in danger, do you understand that, Bobbi? Time is running out.»

«The Doc is on the second floor, in a room with medical equipment,» the girl gave in. «But a doctor visits her, and she said the condition is stable.»

«You kept Stans locked up. That is not a question. I know it. I will tell the cops about the double kidnapping and that Stans was essentially held as a slave. There is enough evidence in this laboratory. Be so kind as to stuff this in your pretty mouth while I make the call.» I handed the girl a rag. «What? It is clean. And I don't want you pulling anything, like giving the cops my name.»

The conversation with the police went surprisingly smoothly, except for the five times they tried to get my name. The officer who answered didn't allow herself to doubt my words. She wrote down the address of the mansion and all the other provided information.

«So, Bobbi,» I continued after the call, «you have a choice. Help me escape right now and continue living relatively peacefully, or stay here and end up behind bars with Cindy and everyone else. Keep in mind, if I cannot get out of here before the cops arrive, I will have to give testimony.»

Surprisingly, Bobbi actually hesitated.

«If you help me escape now, I promise I will personally deal with Stans's problem. You don't have much time to think,» I pressed a little more.

«Fine,» Bobbi decided, and immediately tried to start giving orders. «Then first we need to erase all our traces.»

«I already did that,» I cut her off.

The girl was surprised by this turn of events. Hesitantly, she asked, «And my accounts on the Doc's computer...»

«I trusted your prudence...» I smirked. «Now come on, stay one meter ahead of me. Let's go. Open the door.»

There was no one in the hallway. Bobbi tried to head straight for the emergency exit, but I stopped her.

«We need to lock the lock,» I explained as I fiddled with the door. «Cindy might try to destroy the evidence. We don't want that, do we?»

Done. Now, to get into the laboratory, someone would have to break down the door, and it was not an easy one.

«Move toward the garage,» I ordered, and Bobbi took the shortest route, right past the post with the guard who disliked face hunters. «No, there is a security post that way. Let's go past the shower room.»

«But there are electronic locks there. I don't know the codes,» Bobbi objected.

«No one knows,» I smirked, «except me. And we need to hurry before anyone raises an alarm about this.»

I miscalculated. Opening the second door on the way to the garage, Bobbi came face to face with two female guards who had apparently been trying to open it before her.

For a second, the women stared at each other. Then Bobbi attacked her former comrades first, before they could figure out what was happening. At that moment, I could only be glad for my foresight. If I hadn't made Bobbi open all the doors for me, our escape attempt might have ended right there. It was unlikely she would have taken my side if I were already in the guards' hands. Now, on one side were two armed security guards, and on the other was me, also with a gun. The girl simply had no choice.

A scuffle broke out. The women fought skillfully, using an aggressive style to overpower their opponent. Exactly how a real guard should act, though their mass was a bit lacking. Bobbi managed to knock the gun out of one woman's hand and pin the weapon arm of the other criminal. I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention with gunfire, so I rushed toward the dropped weapon. The disarmed woman did too.

For a moment, I panicked. I would no longer reach the gun in time, and my opponent was clearly dangerous in hand to hand combat.

The guard's first blow landed on my clumsy block. Oh, she was much stronger than me physically, but we were already too close. I didn't believe I could defeat a trained guard with such muscles as mine, but instinct took over. Grabbing my opponent by the collar of her uniform, I fell onto my back, pulling the woman with me, and in the process, shoved her with both feet in the stomach. While we were falling, she managed to punch me in the face twice. What manners these locals had.

I smoothly rolled to the side and jumped to my feet. The guard, meanwhile, was in an extremely awkward position, sliding upside down down the wall she had hit back first.

I was afraid she would get up, and I wouldn't be able to catch her off guard again. So I quickly approached and knocked her out with a blow from the gun. I really didn't want to get hit in the head again. Usually, I would have tied up criminals with webbing. With my agility, that would have been easy. However, I still knew where and with what force to strike to knock someone unconscious.

«Wow,» Bobbi whistled behind me. «The boy is so dangerous,» she sang with a smirk.

The second guard lay with a broken nose and rolled up eyes, but alive. Bobbi was twirling a captured pistol in her hands.

«Ladies first,» I nodded toward the door. Well, you have a weapon now. So what? The cops are already on their way. We are either in the same boat, or you are going to prison.

Bobbi understood that too. She only laughed, as if I had said something funny. Though maybe she just liked her own parody of a Jackson song so much that she was still amused.

We made it to the truck I had spotted without incident. Bobbi got behind the wheel, and I hid in the sleeping compartment behind her, pulling the curtain shut on my side. A fully closed sleeping compartment might have raised suspicion, though this precaution turned out to be unnecessary.

We weren't even stopped at the exit. No one cared who was driving or where the vehicle was going. Thus, we left Cindy Shaw's lair.

At the edge of the forest, a police car sped past us, racing at full speed toward the mansion.

«Wow,» I said in surprise. «That was fast. Impressive. A little more, and we might not have made it.»

«Pff, what did you expect? A report about a kidnapping from a boy, and a minor at that.»

I didn't comment on that statement. There were more important topics.

«You need to disappear. I called from your phone, after all. But don't worry, I will keep my promise. Once Stans is transferred to a regular hospital, I will help the doctors make a proper diagnosis. However, there is a chance that more... competent authorities will take an interest in the case.» Naturally, I didn't mention SHIELD. «Then they will figure this out even faster than I can.»

Bobbi looked me over suspiciously.

«You are not an ordinary teenager, are you?»

«Ordinary teenagers don't get kidnapped to work on illegal research,» I chuckled, looking at my bruising face in the rearview mirror.

I offered to split up, but she insisted on driving me home. She was strange. She should be worrying about herself. I agreed on the condition that she would drop me off in the same place where she had kidnapped me, a five minute walk from home.

The girl smirked and suggested I not take that route anymore. According to her, that alley, which practically reached my backyard, was an ideal place to ambush a lone person, even in broad daylight.

I didn't pay much attention to her words and walked home, pulling up my hood and thinking about how to explain my absence of several days and my bruises to my family. However, I had some experience with this sort of thing. My entire superhero life consisted of lying to my loved ones, and I couldn't say I was thrilled about it.

Only now did it occur to me that the police could easily link my tip about Cindy Shaw to the disappearance of Peter Parker. Surely Aunt and Uncle had already filed a missing person report. Damn.

Suddenly, my right shoulder exploded with sharp pain. Something pushed me from behind, and blows rained down on my head.

In shock, I jumped back and covered my face with my hands. What the hell? Was Bobbi's warning about to come true so immediately? In the semi darkness of the alley, a shadowy figure in a hood was flailing in front of me. Some damn juvenile delinquent.

My mind was consumed by cold rage.

I caught the hand holding a piece of pipe, then blocked the other fist, and headbutted the face in front of me with all my might.

The body recoiled. The teenager's legs buckled. He pressed himself against a trash can and covered his face with his hands, sobbing. I wanted to hit him a few more times, but such pathetic behavior threw me off. He wasn't attacking anymore, wasn't defending himself. He just sat there, clutching his profusely bleeding nose. Long bangs prevented me from seeing the attacker's face.

I turned around and walked on. My mind was empty. I had acted on instinct, out of habit, and so brutally. I had wanted to beat him, and I would have, if he hadn't given up so suddenly and ridiculously. At the end of the alley, I looked back and caught a last glimpse of a hunched figure walking away. It was a girl.

There was no one home. That was probably good. I would have time to prepare for my meeting with Aunt and Uncle. Why was it so empty here, like a bachelor pad? Aunt May would never have allowed this. So strange.

I opened the refrigerator. The smell of rotten sausages hit my nostrils. The milk was also expired, by about a week. No one had been living here, at least not during the entire time I had been gone. But where could they have gone?

My inspection of the kitchen and living room didn't reveal any obvious memories, but I still recognized this place. I knew where everything was. I knew where the floors had leaks, where mold had appeared on the drainpipe. I had definitely lived here, but the place didn't give me a feeling of homey warmth and comfort.

In the bathroom, I washed and treated all my cuts and scrapes with medicine. The time had not yet come when I could come home in the evening covered in bruises and wake up healthy in the morning. How stupid. The worst bruise came from that street girl. The skin had even split at the point of impact, and my entire shoulder was swollen.

After finishing in the bathroom, I went upstairs out of habit, but instead of my bedroom, I found a mix of a storage room for old, useless things and a laboratory. Strange. I would never have allowed such a mess in my workspace. Was that dirty laundry in the corner? Yet at the same time, I understood that this was where I had worked on Stans's project.

Such a thick layer of dust. No one had entered this room for several months. Yet, there was a path in the dust, trodden toward a disassembled system unit with the video card and power supply removed. This place seemed as if it had been temporarily converted into a laboratory and then abandoned again. I had nothing to do here. I needed a bed and a good night's sleep.

I found my bedroom on the first floor. But there was nothing here that I remembered from my childhood. No posters on the walls, no tools, generally no traces of my activity. Just furniture, clothes, and a computer.

The PC started up without issue. A user account named Peter with no password. What the hell? I would never have left my computer without protection.

I opened the browser. It was time to find out who I really was.

The first line in the browser history. The Three Body Problem.

I remembered.

The Three Body Problem. That damn game.

Three suns in the sky.

Ages of chaos, ages of order, age of crisis. The Trisolarian Crisis.

«Trisolaris,» I didn't say, I spat out.

How much was contained in that word. Hatred, horror, despair, fear.

I remembered.

I looked at the browser history again.

«The Three Body Problem game» was my Google search query.

Liu Cixin's «The Three Body Problem,» the two volume series «Remembrance of Earth's Past,» read online. The last open page. Just a book. «Remembrance of Earth's Past.» What a terrible title, but how accurate.

I am the last memory of Earth's past. My Earth. Nothing worked out. I didn't return to the past. This is not my universe. In this universe, Trisolaris is just a book. Which meant it had all been for nothing. Everyone had died.

I suddenly realized with utter clarity that I had lost them, those who had once lived here with me, forever. I wanted to disappear, to not exist.

I made it to the bed and collapsed into a merciful sleep. I was no longer glad that I had remembered. On the contrary, I wanted to forget everything again, just as I had a week ago. But I couldn't. Instead, my brain kept feeding me memories of those events.

The conflict between Earth and Trisolaris had been one sided from the very beginning. All attempts by Congress and the UN to organize a defense were doomed to fail. We had four hundred years to prepare for the invasion, but this war was lost even before the first Trisolarian ships left their home planet.

Traitors. The ETO, the Earth Trisolaris Organization. They gave the aliens all the information about humanity. The Trisolarans used it. They understood the threat posed by rapidly developing humanity. The technological explosion. That was what they feared. By the time the Trisolaran fleet reached Earth, who knew what heights Earth science would have reached.

They created their main weapon. Sophons. Supercomputers inside a proton.

Just a proton. A tiny particle with no real power, but by interfering with particle accelerators, it destroyed fundamental Earth science.

Tony Stark was the first victim of the Sophons and the ETO. Initially, Trisolaris considered other people to be Earth's most dangerous scientists. Reed Richards, whose space time theory was far ahead of not only Earth science but even Trisolaran science. Bruce Banner, whose research into gamma radiation was simply incredible. Hank Pym, who had come closer than anyone else to mastering technology based on the strong nuclear interaction. However, the leaders of the ETO convinced Trisolaris that all these brilliant minds paled in comparison to the threat posed by Tony Stark. No, he was not the most brilliant scientist on the planet, and his greatest creation, the cold fusion reactor, though ahead of Earth science, did not exceed the development timeline Trisolaris had predicted for our civilization. But Tony Stark possessed two other qualities that were much more important than the genius of the other people on the list.

Psychological resilience and the rational thinking of an engineer and weapons designer. Tony was not obsessed with fundamental science like the other scientists on the list. Even his reactor, he had designed out of necessity. The collapse of fundamental physics theories that the Sophons were meant to bring about would have affected Iron Man far less than other scientists. Tony had many other interests in life. He was already a superhero. He already had a damn iron suit. In the end, he simply knew how to enjoy life. It was highly unlikely that such a person would commit suicide because of the Sophons' actions. As for the second quality. In the context of the stagnation of all fundamental research, already mastered technologies would come to the forefront, along with people capable of applying them with maximum efficiency. It was precisely Tony Stark's engineering and weapons designing talent that made Trisolaris look to the future with caution. If all the planet's resources fell into the hands of such a person, it was not certain that during the doomsday battle four hundred years later, Trisolaris's technological advantage would be as undeniable.

The Sophons attacked Tony immediately upon arriving on Earth. They sabotaged his research first. While other scientists were looking for errors in their calculations or equipment malfunctions in the accelerators, Tony Stark had already progressed to understanding humanity's place in the hypotheses of the Shooter and the Farmer.

A couple of days later, the press once again captured the eccentric billionaire during one of his drunken escapades. That same night, shocking footage of Iron Man's death became public knowledge. The ETO had struck. Tony Stark was a superhero. His death did not need to be disguised as an accident. Those who wanted revenge on him could have formed a line from Stark Tower to the Statue of Liberty. And even the subsequent destruction of Stark's laboratories, though raising questions, still fit the Avengers' legend. The ETO, guided by the omnipresent Sophons, systematically purged all samples of cold fusion technology.

Other scientists followed Stark. In most cases, the Sophons did almost all the work themselves. A wave of mass suicides by leading scientists swept the world. Otto Octavius, Hank Pym, Amadeus Cho, and many other less famous scientists could not handle the pressure. Bruce Banner was also psychologically broken, but he didn't have the means to end his existence. However, his mental state was such that he no longer posed a threat as a scientist.

Reed Richards nearly followed his colleagues. The collapse of his space time theories and the inconsistency of the fundamental laws of physics became an unbearable burden for him. I managed to prevent his suicide at the last moment. And then I defended Reed from ETO assassins many times.

We took many frantic actions during that period. In fact, all of humanity fell into a global hysteria. In the end, Reed and I decided to sleep for two hundred years using cold hibernation technology. We would wait for the completion of the space elevator.

But humanity exceeded our expectations. When we woke up, people had already built a huge space fleet and mastered gamma lasers and thermonuclear fusion technology. Alas, not cold fusion. Moreover, people were confident of victory over Trisolaris. The ETO had been destroyed. Society had gone through the Great Raveling and the Second Renaissance. Superpowers had disappeared. Now, the Golden Age was in full swing. Only fundamental science had not advanced at all. Universities were still teaching awakened professors from my time using two century old textbooks. To my shame, we also believed in the power of our race. It was like a dream, a sweet dream that had become reality. By a lucky chance, Reed and I found ourselves aboard the Blue Space at the very moment when another recently awakened contemporary of ours captured the fleet's flagship, the Natural Selection. He was sure that Earth had no chance of victory and was trying to give humanity a chance to survive. I sincerely admired this man.

The Blue Space and three other ships were sent to intercept. Then came the shocking news. A single Trisolaran probe that had reached the Solar System fifty years ahead of schedule, a Drop the size of a truck, had destroyed Earth's entire space fleet. An alloy based on strong nuclear interaction technology and an engine beyond human understanding. Nothing in the Solar System could destroy the Drop. No one could outrun it. But by that time, we had already left the Solar System.

The Natural Selection was heading toward a star whose system contained a gas giant planet. It could be used for refueling. The journey would take only a couple thousand years. Our fleet of five ships was capable of making such a trip.

But the calculations were wrong. We had not accounted for the braking effect when passing through gas and dust clouds. In reality, the fleet would have to spend fifty thousand years in transit. There were not enough spare parts or fuel for such a journey.

I don't know the name of the ship that attacked first. Thermonuclear bombs detonated fifty kilometers from all the ships simultaneously. For twenty seconds, the flames of the thermonuclear explosions pulsed at infrasound frequencies. When the powerful electromagnetic pulses reached the ships, their hulls vibrated, generating monstrously powerful infrasound waves. Everything was shrouded in a bloody haze. The crew died, but the fuel and spacecraft remained intact.

I foresaw this attack. The Captain of the Blue Space and I decided not to strike first. Instead, the crew donned spacesuits, and all the air was pumped out of the ship. Thus, we protected ourselves from the infrasound bombs. Afterward, we destroyed the last enemy ship, recovered fuel and supplies, and continued our journey.

Reed and I, we enjoyed the crew's trust. Everyone relied on our intelligence. People thought we could invent new technologies using the captured resources, since the Sophons had finally left us alone. Some even believed that thanks to our inventions, they would live to see a new home. Faith was all these people had left.

But Reed and I didn't believe. We knew it was impossible. We had other plans. Within six months, Reed completed his space time theory from two hundred years ago and built the first time machine in human history. We were going to go back in time and prevent the catastrophe. Stop the Red Coast from sending a radio transmission to Alpha Centauri. Prevent Trisolaris from learning about Earth's existence. But we were not allowed.

Probably, the Sophons had been watching us all along and ultimately decided to interfere. Instead of traveling to the past, I ended up in some parallel universe where the history of the conflict with Trisolaris was just a science fiction novel. As for Reed, I can't even imagine what happened to him.

Notes:

The Shooter Hypothesis states the following. A shooter shoots at a target, putting a hole in it every ten centimeters. Now, imagine that the surface of the target is inhabited by a race of intelligent two dimensional beings. Their scientists, observing the universe, have discovered a great law. «Every ten centimeters in the universe, there is a hole.» They took the shooter's momentary whim for a law of nature.

The Farmer Hypothesis has something of a horror film about it. So, every morning on a turkey farm, the farmer feeds the birds. A turkey scientist, observing this phenomenon for nearly a year, concludes, «Every morning at eleven, food arrives.» On Thanksgiving morning, the turkey announces this law to her comrades. But that day at eleven, instead of feeding, the farmer slaughters all the turkeys.

Here, Avengers in the original sense.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 5: But... I'm Peter Parker

I sat at the table, trying to gather my thoughts, watching silent Aunt May bustle around the kitchen. My shoulder still hurt terribly where the teenage criminal had struck me, and my jaw ached with every small movement. At least the bruises on my face had faded significantly after two days of rest.

During these two days, I had more or less returned to normal, psychologically and physically.

This was largely helped by the fact that I had read the story of my past world. Who would have thought? That hedonistic bastard Luo Ji turned out to be the one who could protect humanity from the threat of total annihilation. The Wallfacer Project had seemed like nonsense to me from the start, but we all make mistakes sometimes. I want to believe that somewhere out there, my home Earth still exists. That is entirely reasonable, given that, except for some details, the book describes the history of the conflict with Trisolaris quite accurately.

The biggest difference between the book and reality was the gender ratio. Almost all the characters in it were women. At first, I chalked this up to the author being a woman herself. But then, putting the facts together...

How in the world had I managed not to notice this all this time? This crazy world was dominated by women. I had seen several men on the street while Bobbi was driving me home, but only a few. I searched for an explanation for this phenomenon on the global network, but to no avail. The natives saw nothing strange about it. According to local scientists, the higher the level of development of a species, the fewer males are required for its survival. The regulation of male numbers is part of the natural homeostasis of the population. Radical feminists would be thrilled. This universe fully corresponds to their ideals, even those they themselves were unaware of. Currently, in developed countries, there are at least ten women for every man. And these men serve merely as appendages to the women. Quite a well established appendage, I must say. Most of these bastards don't even work anywhere, living off their wives' support. It's surprising that, given such realities, the institution of marriage developed and still hasn't fallen apart.

Obviously, thinking that since all the turmoil of the past few days hadn't driven me insane, my subconscious decided there was nothing left to fear and fed me more memories. This time, memories from the life of the other Peter Parker. Yes, now I was absolutely certain. I and the one whose body I now inhabited were two completely different people.

From now on, I would call the one who lived here before me Peter. That would be easier. At least I wouldn't feel like a madman.

Peter was an extremely withdrawn person. He practically never spoke to anyone unless absolutely necessary. And even if someone managed to get Peter talking, it could hardly be called a dialogue. In fact, he talked to himself, even when addressing another person. He left it to those around him to translate and interpret as best they could, to glean as much meaning as the listener was capable of absorbing.

To be fair, other people were as much a mystery to Peter as he was to them. Peter had difficulty perceiving the emotions and motivations of these «objects.» In short, he didn't know how to communicate with people, and he had no desire to learn. He was extremely lazy and apathetic. He was too lazy to adapt his thoughts for other people. He never brought even his own ideas to life. If something could engage his mind for a short time, that was already an event, as happened with Dr. Stans's article. That theory captivated Peter for a whole month. In the end, he even overcame his laziness and wrote Stans an email, pointing out a few flaws in the theory and offering a couple of his own ideas. But he was too lazy to fully explain his thought process in the email, believing that since the «object» was the author of the article that interested him, she would figure everything out on her own. Obviously, she didn't.

Aunt May, who had come this morning, informed me that my absences had caused concern among the teachers and reminded me that finishing school was my duty. Aunt May didn't live with me in this house. She only brought groceries, sometimes helped with cooking and cleaning, paid the bills, and left some pocket money. I understood. It was hard to live with a person like Peter. It was good that she had never turned to specialists. After all, Peter's condition should have resembled high functioning autism from the outside, even if it wasn't. A specialist's decision could have ruined Peter's, and therefore my, entire future life.

When Aunt May started to leave, I asked to go with her. I said I wanted to talk to Uncle. She was surprised but didn't object. I wondered what surprised her more, my desire or the fact that I was speaking in simple, understandable language.

I vaguely remembered that besides Aunt May, Ben had several other wives, but they didn't all live together. That was normal practice. Few people were interested in or able to provide shared housing for a huge family of six or more adults and dozens of children, but it varied from case to case. Many women valued their independence. Even when marrying a man, they didn't want to be with him all the time. Ha, I could understand them. The native husbands were terrifying.

Aunt May drove a pickup truck, which we took to Uncle Ben's house. It was a three room apartment where he lived with two wives, one of whom was Aunt May. His three other wives lived nearby but were not frequent guests in this apartment, nor were their children.

I suspected that Ben from this world would be a completely different person, but I still wasn't prepared for what I saw. Aunt May's husband suffered from third degree obesity, as well as the whole accompanying bouquet of related diseases, which was quite lush given the man's age. Add to that a quarrelsome, grouchy personality. With such a character, he would have made an excellent domestic tyrant, if only he weren't so infirm.

He wasn't happy to see me. I am not a great expert in psychology, in fact a complete zero, I have never been interested in that science. But even I could see some superficial reasons for his dislike of me.

Besides the fact that I had torn Ben away from watching some idiotic TV show, in his eyes I was a living reminder of wasted, I suspect in vain, youth and health. Of what he could never return to. It was a mistake to come here. I realized I had nothing to say to this man, but to somehow justify my visit, I tried to ask about my parents, ignoring Ben's openly hostile gaze.

«Why would I know anything about your parents, kid?» Ben was so surprised he even lost some of his anger. «He was May's brother, not mine. I only saw him a couple of times in my life.»

I barely kept my composure. This was unexpected, but inside I felt relief that this man was not my blood relative. I hoped my father wasn't like that.

«Just, you know, Aunt May has...» I tried to come up with some reason. «Well, a woman's perspective. You are the only man who knew my father that I can talk to...»

God, what nonsense.

«I already said I didn't know him,» Ben's irritation returned. Having lost interest in the conversation, he went back to watching television.

«Peter,» I heard Aunt May's voice behind me. «You could talk to Dr. Connors. She worked a lot with Richard, and her husband was your father's friend.»

«Oh, thank you, Aunt May.» You just saved me from this awkward situation. «Do you have their contact information?»

«I'm afraid not,» the woman thought for a moment. «But you can find her phone number on the Empire State University website.»

I would definitely find it. After all, I still needed to keep my promise to Bobbi and monitor Stans's condition. Her research looked very similar to the work of another Dr. Connors from my past.

«No, just look at what she's doing.» Uncle Ben's excited shout reached us.

Glancing at her husband, May pursed her lips with displeasure but said nothing. I had never liked TV shows, but in my real memories, Aunt and Uncle loved spending an evening watching something like «America's Got Talent.» Ben was apparently watching something similar. On the screen, a gymnast in a tight white pink suit was performing some gymnastic tricks.

«Just look at this, ladies and gentlemen,» the announcer said enthusiastically. «This girl will give Mrs. Fantastic a run for her money.»

«Ben is a fan of this Spider Woman,» Aunt May shared with me.

Spider Woman. What a ridiculous nickname.

Wait. Spider Woman?

«What did you say?» I jumped.

«What?» May was surprised. «Haven't you heard of her? Our city's television hero,» the woman chuckled. «Like a real superhero, only on TV.»

And her costume really did resemble mine. But what the hell. Where did another, well, another Spider Woman come from in this world? There had to be a limit to this madness.

«Aunt May, do you know if my class went on a field trip while I wasn't attending classes?» I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

«The teacher mentioned something like that to me. Yes, definitely, they talked about some field trip about a week or two ago,» May said thoughtfully, and then immediately added, «and this girl is really impressive. She's making money with her ability. There's no other way these days. In today's world, without money, you can't find a good husband.» She looked at Ben with long standing disappointment.

Of course. I hadn't been kidnapped right away. Having realized my past, I had fallen into a depression. That depression caused subsequent amnesia. I forgot my past as Spider Man and lived as this world's Peter Parker. Apparently, that was when I had missed that field trip.

I decided to walk back. My head was empty, so I just looked at the natives in the light of the setting sun and the numerous signs. This world was strange. No, if with women everything was clear, they combined the concepts of the strong and fair sex here, hence the great variety of types, then with the men...

This rare beast not only stood out for its abundance of features. Out of the dozen boys my age I encountered, four were overweight, three looked overly feminine but within heterosexual norms, one was definitely gay, and only one looked normal. There was another one, but I tried to forget that miracle in a skirt as soon as I saw it. I was only glad that other passersby also looked at him, some with hostility, some simply mockingly.

Was I going to become one of these now? I caught another appraising glance from a girl walking toward me. Damn. What would I do if my powers had gone to someone else? To someone who used them only for personal gain? What if she just entertained the public on TV shows? Who would prevent the explosion of the star reactor? Who would prevent the city from being infected with the Lizard's vaccine? Who would stop Electro? And if this greedy girl merged with Venom, it would be a disaster. Damn. Besides, I was used to a healthy, strong body. I didn't want to be a weakling with terrible eyesight for the rest of my life.

«Look,» a woman in front of me shouted, reaching for her phone to film a girl in a tight suit running across the rooftops.

Speak of the devil. Did you have to run right here, right in front of me? What the hell are you doing running through the streets anyway? You are not catching criminals.

The girl, meanwhile, jumped off the roof of a building right onto the roadway. Grabbing a lamppost with her hand in mid air, she beautifully executed an acceleration maneuver using centrifugal force and flew to the other side of the street. She was showing off on purpose. She wasn't even a hero yet, but she was already trying to attract people's attention.

«I know her,» an excited female voice nearby. «I know her. That's Spider Woman from TV.»

Less enthusiasm, madam. She doesn't even have webbing. And why has she become so popular so quickly? How long has it been since the field trip? A week? Two?

The acrobat slipped out of our sight, but people kept looking after her for a while.

«Ah, she's cool,» a girl of about thirteen next to me said. «I wish I could be like her.»

Yeah, I wished that too. Because I, Peter Parker, am the real Spider Man.

To hell with all of it.

Returning home in a state of distress, I wanted to go straight to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. So, to kill time, I decided to work. While uploading data copied from Stans's laboratory computer, I thought about my next steps.

Perhaps I should contact the local version of Connors as soon as possible. Stans's formula was close to what Kurt had been working on. It had the same base, but Stans hadn't tried to implant reptile genes with it. Reading Stans's notes, I got the impression that the scientist herself didn't fully understand what she was dealing with. She seemed to be trying to adapt the formula for interaction with the emitter. It was unlikely that this formula was her own development. More likely, she was trying to replicate someone else's work. It was possible that Stans's and Connors's formulas had a common origin.

Another half hour of thinking, and I found myself sketching out web shooter designs.

Are you kidding me?

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 6: Unpredictable

The next morning, after breakfasting on the soup Aunt May had prepared the day before, I decided it was time to grace my local school with my presence. Besides it being my duty as a student, I had another motive. There was a high probability that this Spider Woman had gained her abilities on that ill fated field trip I had missed, and therefore, she might attend my school or even be in my class.

I had successfully missed the school bus, so I was about to walk when, not ten meters from my house, a car pulled up beside me.

Oh no. I know this sports car. Flash fucking Thompson. I instinctively turned away to avoid provoking the bully. A conditioned reflex, damn it.

No, no, no. I did not go through all the shit that happened in my past life to be afraid of Flash Thompson again. Don't even think about it, jock. This means war.

«Hey, Peter,» a female voice came from the car. «Late for the bus again? I can give you a ride.»

I froze. Of course. Peter's memories of his life had returned to me. But why didn't I remember this? This world is insane. Flash Thompson was a woman. Now, seeing her in person, I began to recall. This Flash, though she had the same arrogant and cruel character as her counterpart in my world, had never shown aggression toward Peter.

In fact, whenever she saw Peter trudging to school, Flash would stop and give him a ride. Nonsense. Flash Thompson trying to be friendly to Peter Parker. It was wild to me, but it was a fact.

I got into the car and, to my shame, felt relieved that there would be no confrontation.

«Another two weeks of skipping school,» the girl said cheerfully, with a hint of envy or even admiration. Not waiting for an answer, she continued. «Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. What did you do this time? Invent some new cool science thing?»

She really understood the old Peter, I noted with surprise. She immediately tried to steer the conversation toward something interesting. Because otherwise, I would have ignored her. Not that it ever bothered Flash. If she couldn't get Peter to talk, she wouldn't take offense and would just keep talking about something herself.

«I was finishing up a previous article,» I answered, not going into details.

At least Flash certainly couldn't be Spider Woman. Wrong physique. Yesterday, I had gotten a good look at that upstart. She should be about my height and build. Flash was much more massive, especially in the chest area.

Who else among my classmates had changed gender?

The thought was strange, even shocking. But I couldn't remember. I hadn't noticed it right away, but this life's memories were returning to me as needed. In the morning, when I got home, I remembered myself. When I saw Aunt May, I remembered the family. Now, seeing Flash, I remembered as well.

At school, Flash lost interest in me because she met up with her friends, or rather, her minions. I was only glad about that. The last thing I wanted was to be seen everywhere with Flash Thompson, even if he had become a girl with a pretty face and an impressive figure.

«Parker,» someone called out to me at the classroom entrance.

I turned toward the sound. Behind me stood a tall woman in a strict suit and glasses. Yukka Sarasti, the physics teacher who had started working at our school not long ago. Having captured my attention, she continued.

«Come with me, Parker. The principal wants to see you.» Not only did the woman have an authoritative voice that demanded obedience without question, she also took me by the forearm to escort me.

I remembered that Yukka had always been like that. Even other teachers and the principal rarely dared to argue with this woman. And she was probably the only woman among them who showed no special deference to boys, including me.

Raising my eyebrows, I first looked at her hand invading my personal space, then at her eyes. You might as well grab me by the collar. But the woman didn't flinch.

I had my backpack on that shoulder, so I used it to free myself from Yukka's grip. I slipped the strap right onto the woman's wrist.

«That's unnecessary. I can find the principal's office myself.»

Sarasti didn't answer, only calmly watched as I entered the still nearly empty classroom and left my backpack. She went to the principal with me after all, staying slightly behind like a guard, but she didn't enter. She just watched me, as if I were about to run away.

The principal was a kind, plump woman a little over fifty. She had personally trained half the teachers currently working at the school and always got along with her students. I had never seen her shout at anyone.

«Peter,» the principal, who usually smiled slightly when addressing me, was noticeably serious this time. «I understand that the school curriculum doesn't interest you, but you cannot miss classes for weeks at a time. We don't have open attendance. We are responsible for the students. What if something had happened to you?»

I should explain why the school tolerated Peter's constant truancy. It was all about prestige. Even though men were required to receive a general education, most boys showed no interest in studying. Everything they needed to do well in this life, nature had already done for them by giving them a penis. That might sound crude, but looking reality in the face, that was how it was. Against the backdrop of such widespread idlers, Peter Parker, for all his laziness and apathy, looked favorable. He periodically participated in scientific activities, which brought prestige to the school.

I smirked. If only she knew what had happened to me this past week. I had been damn close to ending up in a police station, and then it would have been bad for everyone. For the school, which hadn't noticed a student's long absence, and for Aunt May, who, by law as my guardian, was supposed to live in the same house as me.

«I don't think you need to worry about that, Principal. I'm thinking about finishing school as an external student. You see, while working on my research, I've become closely familiar with the work of Dr. Connors. I think it would be convenient to get a job as her lab assistant. That way, I could also attend university classes. Or even enroll directly. I haven't decided yet.»

As I spoke, the principal's kind expression changed first to surprise, then traces of displeasure appeared.

«Peter,» she began cautiously. «This is a serious decision. Don't rush into it. Think about it. School isn't just about lessons. It's also about socializing with your peers...»

The principal had always been good at sensing her interlocutor's mood. Even now, before finishing her sentence, she realized she had chosen the wrong approach.

«But you know, since your research is so important to you, I think we could find a compromise. Besides, you do understand that taking exams early is a very complicated bureaucratic procedure. It would take a long time.»

«What do you mean by a compromise?» I asked with interest.

«Well, Dr. Connors is a respectable woman. I doubt she would let anything happen to you while you're working. And the school, if you don't disappear for months at a time, we could turn a blind eye to missing a couple of days a week...»

I raised an eyebrow.

«Or three or four. Just don't disappear for as long as you did last time,» the woman finally gave in.

«I think that will work for me.»

«Good,» the principal answered with a professional smile. «Go back to class.»

And so we agreed. The school gets its dividends. For another two years, all my achievements would positively affect the institution's prestige. And I get to attend freely with a minimum of problems and obligations.

It was unexpected but useful. Even though I hadn't thought about it beforehand, I hadn't lied. I really did plan to contact Connors soon, and I had a good reason. Her work with my father.

As I approached the physics classroom, I saw her. Mary Jane Watson. For a second, I caught my breath, just as I had at our first meeting. No, she seemed even more beautiful than before. Worlds changed, but something remained the same.

MJ turned around, as if sensing my intent gaze, and smiled when our eyes met.

«Hey, Peter,» she said casually. «Haven't seen you in a while.»

«Uh, yeah... I was working,» I stammered.

What is wrong with you? Pull yourself together, you wimp. Yes, it's Mary Jane, so what? You haven't been sixteen for a long time. You were even married to her for a short while, before the Trisolarian crisis ruined your lives.

«Hey, Mary Jane,» I continued, getting my thoughts together. «I just finished up some research.»

She almost kept a straight face, but her eyes gave away her surprise. Over all this time, you could count on one hand the number of times the old Peter had said anything to Mary Jane other than «yeah» or «uh huh» in response to a greeting. Damn, that guy was apparently free from the influence of love and hormones on his brain.

«It must have been something terribly complicated and important,» the girl suggested. «By the way, you missed a pretty interesting field trip. There were lots of spiders. I think you would have liked it.»

Why did she mention that?

Come to think of it, Mary Jane had the same build as Spider Woman. Could it be... but using her powers for fame in show business? Damn, that was so like Mary Jane.

«Yeah, I heard about it. So, how did the field trip go?» I tried to question her casually.

«Fine. Almost without incident,» MJ shrugged.

«Almost?» I latched onto her slip.

«Well, you know Liz is afraid of insects, and Flash got bored with the spiders quickly. Turns out she brought a toy spider on a string and dropped it down the back of Liz's collar. There was a terrible scream, but it was funny.»

«I see.» So Flash was pointedly friendly to Peter, but she periodically teased and even humiliated the other girls. «Did anyone get bitten?» I asked with a smile at the end, as if joking.

«Ha ha, no,» MJ laughed. «Let's go to class.»

«Yes, yes, of course.»

In the end, Mary Jane might not have noticed someone getting bitten by a spider, or she simply didn't want to tell me.

The physics classroom was already full of people, and my appearance, contrary to my fears, did not attract universal attention.

I thought it would be nice if MJ and I sat next to each other. We could continue talking during the lesson. But my memories told me the girl would go to her friends. By the way, there were no other boys visible in the class yet. I felt a little awkward looking at the dozen or so unfamiliar girls. They had all been men in my past world.

«Oh,» Mary Jane suddenly groaned. «We have that stupid test first thing this morning. I don't understand physics at all.»

This was an opportunity. I had to use it.

«I could help you,» I suggested cautiously. «Sit next to me.»

«But the teacher,» MJ began, «though with Sarasti, it might work. She doesn't care about anyone. Peter, would you really do that for me?»

«Yes, why not?» I answered calmly, inwardly rejoicing.

I had just thought about sitting next to MJ, and the universe presented me with a chance. Not bad, not bad. Maybe this was compensation for past failures.

«Osborn,» I heard Flash's voice. The girl jumped off the desk she was sitting on and walked toward the door.

I froze inside, afraid to turn around. What if Harry had also become a girl? Or even... what if Harry Osborn was Spider Woman? No, please, no.

Gathering my strength, I finally looked back, just in time to see Flash Thompson give Harry Osborn a quick kiss on the lips.

Fuck. This was too much for me. How insane could this world be?

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 7: School Life Is... Fun?

Leaning close to Mary Jane so the others in the class couldn't hear, I whispered.

"MJ." The girl turned to me. "Are Flash and Harry like... together?"

I motioned with my eyes toward the pair of students who were just then walking to their seats.

"Peter, aren't you the one who has been in this school your whole life?" Mary Jane smirked. Playful sparks danced in her eyes.

"Well, I missed a lot of school, and all this school drama never really interested me," I answered evasively.

"Yeah, I suppose," MJ didn't argue. "Well, from what the girls talk about, I can tell you that Flash has been trying to get into Osborn's pants for several years now," she finally explained.

"Is it really that hard?" I asked in surprise. Honestly, for Osborn to refuse to sleep with a girl.

That jerk had one upped me even in my past world, I thought, looking at Mary Jane. And not just him, I glanced at Thompson. Perhaps it was good if they were busy with each other.

"Harder than you think," MJ chuckled, looking at Flash with a mix of envy and gloating.

"Really?" Was I worried for nothing? In this world, women pursued men's affections, but was it really so hard to catch Harry Osborn in their nets? I looked the former friend and enemy over again carefully. Harry stood out favorably from most of the men I had seen on the street. Handsome, well built, dressed decently, and generally without any signs of effeminacy or other masculine traits common to this world. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy had already thoroughly plowed through the flowerbed of our class.

"From what I've seen, Harry uses Thompson to scare off other girls," the girl explained. Then she looked at Osborn and bit her lip.

Damn, MJ, I know that look. I used to like it. You used to look at me that way before. No, MJ, for God's sake, no.

Maybe isolation from male attention had preserved your innocence, but it certainly hadn't done your character any favors. The old Harry would have said in such cases that the girl was practically jumping out of her panties. Given his father's financial situation, he had some experience with such girls. And no matter how much I didn't want to think of MJ in that light, the reality was that if Osborn crooked his finger at her... damn.

"Places, everyone." The cold voice of Sarasti came from the entrance. Like a command to a dog. No one disobeyed.

"Wasting time on nonsense means you're ready for the test." Yukka walked to the podium and looked around the room. For a second, her gaze lingered on Mary Jane.

I felt the girl tense up beside me, but a moment later, the teacher had forgotten about her.

"Thompson, come here." Flash obediently stood up and followed the instruction. "Hand out the questions."

Mary Jane next to me sighed with relief.

"Looks like we dodged a bullet," she whispered.

Now we just had to do the hard part. Cheat without Sarasti noticing anything with her dead, unblinking stare.

"There are fifty questions in the test," Sarasti announced. "To get an A, you must answer at least forty five correctly. Forty correct answers will earn you a B. Anything below thirty five is an F."

The test wasn't hard for me. I could have solved it in five minutes, but of course I didn't. Instead, I filled out one question per minute, carefully pretending to recheck each answer. Meanwhile, I was looking at the questions on Mary Jane's sheet, which she had moved to the edge of her desk.

Yukka didn't sit at her desk doing nothing. No, the woman walked between the rows, catching out the desperate ones, those who tried to cheat. When Sarasti had her back to me and MJ, I used my fingers to show first the question number, then the correct answer.

Even with my glasses, I couldn't make out most of the questions clearly. The girl had to fill in most of them herself.

At one point, Sarasti stopped right between me and Mary Jane and stood there for several minutes.

"Parker." At the sound of the teacher's voice, MJ flinched and broke out in a sweat.

"Yes," I answered in an unshaken voice.

"What do you think of Miss Thompson's breasts?" Sarasti asked in a cold voice.

"Um." I admit, I paused for a couple of seconds at such a question. "I think they're fine."

"Really?" Sarasti was surprised. "I thought something was wrong with them. Look more closely, Parker. You'll see it too."

"No matter how carefully I look, I'm afraid I can't see any details through her clothes," I snorted. "If you want details, ask Osborn."

By this point, the whole class had stopped paying attention to the test and was staring at us. My last statement drew surprised whispers, and Sarasti apparently decided to end the performance.

"But I think Miss Thompson's right breast is slightly larger than usual today. Let's have it," Yukka said, extending her open palm toward Flash.

To the amazed looks of the entire class, the girl pulled a cheat sheet from her bra.

"You're free to go, Miss Thompson," Sarasti cut her off.

An angry Flash stood up, grabbed her bag, and flew out into the hallway, not daring to say anything to the teacher. Yukka, meanwhile, walked to the front of the class and, without turning around, spoke again.

"Don't show your classmates your tights, Miss Sanders. You can join Thompson, but only after you've washed the ink off your thigh."

Another unfortunate soul left the classroom.

For the rest of the class, Mary Jane didn't even dare look in my direction again. I made sure she had a solid head start by giving her the answers to ten questions. If she could answer at least twenty five on her own, she would avoid an F.

"Time," Yukka announced. "Since Miss Thompson has left us, Osborn, collect the answer sheets."

Many were writing their last answers at the last second, but no one dared ask for extra time under Sarasti's stern gaze.

Handing her sheet to Harry, a visibly upset Mary Jane was about to leave the classroom, but the teacher stopped her.

"There are still five minutes before the bell, Watson. Aren't you interested in your result?"

"I know I failed," MJ muttered.

"I said, sit down," the teacher ordered without raising her voice. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

Sarasti began announcing the results with the speed and precision of a computer. One glance was enough for her to check the correct answers. I couldn't do that. Out of some whim, Yukka set aside MJ's answer sheet and didn't announce her result until only two sheets remained.

"So, Watson. Thirty correct answers." Sarasti paused. "That is sixty percent. A D."

A murmur rose in the class. Even those who had scored barely above failing and expected a D themselves were surprised. The girls' indignation exceeded even their fear of the imperious teacher.

"Parker," the woman continued, ignoring the discontent. "Forty nine correct answers." She paused and looked at me coldly. "A C."

Silence fell over the class.

"Fuck," I chuckled. "Fair enough." I understood immediately. She was punishing me for helping MJ cheat. My score was nearly perfect, but she gave me a barely passing grade as a lesson. "Where did I make the mistake?"

Sarasti raised an eyebrow.

"I mean the one wrong answer. Since I have forty nine correct, one must be incorrect."

"You didn't account for the electron charge sign in question thirty nine."

"Thank you. I need to pay more attention to details."

"Wait, that's not fair," Harry jumped up. "Even if Parker is a genius, he's in the same class as us. You can't give him a C for one mistake. He practically aced it."

Wow, he stood up for me, and in front of Sarasti. We weren't even friends in this world.

"Why did you make an exception only for Watson?" one of the girls who failed dared to ask.

"No exceptions and no special treatment," Sarasti retorted. "They both scored below eighty percent, which means a C or lower. This is a lesson, Mr. Parker. If you want to help your friend with tests, do it in advance. Not during the test itself."

"I understand," I answered calmly. The next second, the bell rang.

"Free," Sarasti announced.

As soon as we left the classroom, the attention of the entire class focused on me and Mary Jane.

"Peter," Mary Jane began. "I'm sorry. This is all because of me."

"Hey, I was the one who offered to help you," I objected. "Besides, it's just a C in physics. Who cares?"

It would be an understatement to say everyone was surprised. I had just steamrolled over the reputation Peter had built over years of schooling. First, Peter Parker would never have offered to let anyone cheat off him. Second, he was always extremely meticulous about his grades. He could miss a week of school, but if he came, he worked for an A. Third, hearing a curse word from Parker was something no one had ever witnessed.

"That Sarasti is such a bitch," Osborn said, looking around to see if the teacher was nearby. "She had no right to lower your grade. You answered almost perfectly."

"Come on, Sarasti didn't do anything wrong. It might not be according to the rules, but she's right. It was a good lesson."

---

The rest of the school day passed without incident. Except that my classmates started talking to me. The morning incident helped me integrate into the group.

Mary Jane, however, was clearly not happy about me getting a C. The girl's conscience was still tormenting her. Although I repeated many times that I didn't care about my test grade. Even the classmates who initially disapproved of MJ's actions, under my urging, admitted they would have done the same in her place.

At lunch, I sat down next to Mary Jane again. The girl looked at me and gave me an apologetic smile.

"Still thinking about that nonsense?" I began.

"No, I just... it's awkward. I should have told Sarasti to give me an F," she said.

I rolled my eyes. How many times?

"Okay. You want to make up for your 'guilt,'" I highlighted the last word with imaginary quotes. "Come with me to, say, the Bunker tonight."

"No way," Flash exclaimed nearby. "Did I die and go to a parallel universe? Peter Parker is going to a nightclub with a girl. HOLY SHIT."

"Who are you and what have you done with Peter Parker?" Harry said, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

Of course, I laughed along with everyone else at that joke. It was a joke, right?

"So, MJ, are you coming?" I repeated the question.

"I don't know what happened in class, but I'm willing to make amends if Watson doesn't want to," Flash exclaimed.

"No, I mean, yes, of course, I'll go," the girl said hastily.

Victory. Although, that was too easy. As easy as if Mary Jane from my past had suddenly decided to make the first move toward me. Apparently, I had just demonstrated deviant behavior to the whole class. It wasn't customary here for boys to make the first move toward a girl they liked. But I didn't care. I could only thank fate for such a wonderful opportunity.

---

Flash drove me and Mary Jane home. We agreed to meet at ten in the evening and parted ways.

It was so unusual. I leaned the back of my head against the front door, processing the past day. I had gone to school, and I had liked it. Who would have thought?

With a goofy smile on my face, I reheated some soup and, whistling «The Way You Make Me Feel,» turned on the TV. I found a channel featuring a stand up comedian, a woman, of course. There were many jokes about men and sex. Some were funny, but they made me feel vicarious embarrassment for the speaker's former lovers.

During a commercial break, I saw an ad with Spider Woman. The girl was advertising insect repellent. Ironic.

She reminded me of something. Personal happiness was, of course, wonderful, and I wasn't going to give up my plans for the evening. But I also had business to attend to.

Returning to my room, I copied Stans's project data onto a flash drive and, at the same time, went to the Empire State University website to check Connors's schedule. Two lectures today. The last one ended in three hours. Perfect. I could get there by taxi in ten minutes. What to do with the remaining time?

My eyes fell on the web shooter blanks. I had started making them without really thinking about why, then stopped, realizing I only had enough materials for a craft from the early days of my heroics. After the masterpieces I had created using Van Miao's nanomaterial technology and moisture condensation from the air, spending time and effort on something so primitive seemed stupid to me. But why not? Web shooters were like a third hand for me. Even without spider sense, reflexes, agility, and strength, I could use them in case of emergency. It was better than carrying a weapon.

I had everything I needed. Experience, materials for the mechanism, ingredients. So why hadn't I made them yet?

Leaving the house two and a half hours later, I also took all my cash. On the way back, I would stop and buy some normal clothes. I was going to a party.

The taxi driver, unsurprisingly, was a woman. A very talkative woman. So talkative that after five minutes of conversation, I was considering whether a web gag would suit her face.

Fortunately, the ride was short. Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside Connors's lecture hall. The lecture was supposed to end any minute.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 8: Gwen Stacy, Alive

I had to wait another five minutes after the bell. Apparently, Connors had been held up by knowledge hungry students. When I used to attend her lectures, that happened often. Soon, the stream of students, mostly female, dwindled, and the professor walked out of the office. Externally, the woman was surprisingly similar to Kurt Connors from my world, as much as a man and a woman can be similar.

She wore simple everyday clothes with a lab coat over them. Her chestnut hair was in a slight, I would say, creative disarray. A thick folder of documents was pressed to her chest with her single arm. So, in this world as well, Connors had not escaped injury and subsequent amputation.

"Professor Connors," I called out to the woman as she walked past.

Karen, that was her name, stopped and looked at me with an attentive gaze from behind thick glasses. She frowned, trying to remember something, but didn't recognize me. Not surprising. I didn't look much like my father, and given how many years had passed since his death, recognizing Richard Parker's son wasn't so easy.

"Yes? Did you want something?" the woman asked politely.

"Hello. First, I'd like to introduce myself. I am the son of Richard Parker, Peter. I understand you worked with my father."

"Yes, your face did seem familiar," Connors nodded to herself, then, recollecting herself, added, "It's a shame what happened to your parents. Richard was a good man and a friend of my husband."

"Yes, it's a shame. I never knew my parents, and I wouldn't mind getting to know you and your husband, perhaps hear a few stories about them," I began. Connors nodded absentmindedly. "But right now, there are more important matters. As I understand it, you've been trying for many years to understand the regenerative mechanisms of lizards."

Connors frowned and looked at me distrustfully.

"Surely, young man, you haven't followed in your father's footsteps and taken an interest in science?"

"Your skepticism is unwarranted, Professor. Not long ago, I came across the research of a person trying to create something like the infamous Erskine serum. Their work reminded me of your articles." I couldn't tell her that I knew the formulas she had never published, the ones her counterpart from my world had used.

"Many scientists around the world have tried to replicate Erskine's success, but I've never heard of new super soldiers," Connors answered with a fair amount of distrust.

But they exist, even if with varying degrees of success and sometimes with a host of side effects. Not surprising that Connors didn't have that information, and I wasn't supposed to know it either.

"That woman is in a coma after testing her drug on herself. I have some ideas on how to help her, but I lack experience. I thought you might be able to help." Actually, I lacked equipment and resources, and I was hoping to use her laboratory, but I couldn't say that directly. "Besides, her research could help you with your project."

I took out a flash drive and rolled it between my fingers in front of Connors.

"Well, let's see what you've found. But I wouldn't expect anything worthwhile from someone who tests their own developments on themselves." I barely suppressed a chuckle. If only she knew what her counterpart in my world had done to himself.

Connors walked quickly toward her main workspace. I hurried after her.

Someone was already working in the laboratory when we arrived. The front door was open, and from the next room came the hum of a work station and the rustle of pencils.

Could it be Gwen? To my shame, I didn't remember when she started working for Connors. And it wasn't a given that things had worked out the same way in this world. In fact, there was a non zero chance that my acquaintance's place had been taken by some Gwydion. Better not to think about it.

All of Karen's skepticism vanished the moment she saw Stans's formulas. The woman's eyes opened wide in surprise, and she began hastily flipping through pages of documents and scans of handwritten notes. I hadn't tried to catalog or organize Stans's research, so I doubted Connors could have figured everything out so quickly. More likely, she was just recognizing them.

"I don't understand..." the woman whispered.

"What exactly?" I asked.

"I thought Richard hadn't left any records behind." Karen turned a shocked gaze to me. "Peter, this research isn't just similar to mine. It's your father's project."

What? No. Bullshit. I had seen Richard's notes. I knew what was stored in his abandoned warehouse along with that old machine. Richard had never worked on a super soldier serum.

"Are you sure?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course. We started this project together back in college. But then... our views diverged, and soon after, I enlisted. When I returned, Richard was no longer alive." Connors was slightly flustered, remembering that time. "But this. This is definitely a development of our old project."

So Richard and Connors had tried to recreate the super soldier serum in their youth. And then these records somehow ended up with Stans. This was so different from what I knew about Richard's past from my world. But a super soldier serum was certainly better than what Richard had created there.

But now a new question arose. How had Stans gained access to Richard's records? Wait. If there was no Venom project, what had caused his parents' death? I needed to find out if my father had left anything to Aunt May, and if not, personally check that warehouse container. And I also needed to question Stans.

"Dr. Connors, could we learn more if we find a way to bring Stans out of her coma? Will you allow me to use your laboratory?"

"Yes, of course. It's the least I can do in gratitude for this." Connors pointed at the screen. Yes, I had promised to let her use Stans's development.

Just then, I heard light footsteps behind me.

"Professor, I'm finished for the day. All the test data has been saved." My heart skipped a beat when I heard the voice of the girl who had died in the past because of my mistake.

"Meet," Karen drew my attention. "This is Gwen. She's my assistant and student."

Thank God she wasn't a student.

I turned and met the girl's gaze. Damn, it really was Gwen. My Gwen. Alive. And she was as beautiful as ever. I tried to smile as warmly as possible, but it didn't come out well.

"Peter Parker," I managed to push out of my dry throat.

"Gwen Stacy," the girl answered and shook my hand firmly.

Too firmly. Her grip was like a vise. Or was I just that weak? And why was she looking at me so intently? What suspicion?

"Gwen helps me with experiments," Karen explained, then continued, addressing Gwen. "Peter's data could be very helpful to us. You need to see this, Gwen."

This Connors relied on her assistant much more than Kurt had.

"Ah, I..." the girl hesitated. "I'm sorry, I have to be somewhere else urgently. I have... an appointment. Yes. I'll look at it tomorrow, alright?"

Throwing one last suspicious look at me, Stacy hastily retreated. That wasn't the Gwen I knew.

"Strange," Connors murmured. "She's usually more serious about her work."

But Karen quickly shook off her momentary thoughtfulness as soon as her eyes fell on the monitor.

"I need to get to work immediately," the woman whispered, as if forgetting my existence. "If I can combine the serum with the regeneration formula..."

And she had already forgotten her promise to help with a cure for Stans. That actually worked in my favor. I had access to Connors's laboratory, and there should be everything I needed to create an antiserum containing plasma cell antibodies capable of fighting the antigen introduced into Stans's blood. If it wasn't already too late. The course of the process could have been complicated by various factors, from the doctors' intervention to Stans's condition before the injection. If I hurried, I could even stop by the hospital where Stans was being treated.

8:45 PM, same place.

I stood behind Karen with the ready made medicine for Stans and watched the woman. She didn't notice anything around her, completely absorbed in her work. At first, this version of Connors seemed more reasonable to me, especially given her remark about experimenting on oneself. But that was no reason to let her guard down.

The documents on the flash drive did not contain the emitter schematics I had designed for Stans. Even if Connors performed a miracle and combined the two developments, she still couldn't do without my help. Karen was a good technician, but this wasn't her level. I would not repeat the mistake of the other Peter Parker, who gave a nearly finished device schematic to a biologist. In fact, Connors trying to combine her research with Stans's serum would buy me extra time to prevent the appearance of the Lizard. That beast had already given me enough trouble in the past.

"Dr. Connors," I called out to the woman. She responded immediately. "I've finished the medicine."

Karen looked in surprise at the flask in my hands.

"So quickly?"

"It's almost nine o'clock, actually. I suggest we call it a day. I can come back tomorrow to work with you. I've been working on this project for quite a while now." Karen didn't seem thrilled with my suggestion.

"Yes, you're probably right. I'll finish up soon and go home too. Goodbye, Peter." Too hasty an answer.

"Professor, I just hope you'll be sensible, and I won't have to do something similar for you." I motioned toward the flask with the medicine. "Don't rush to use the serum, even if you think it's ready."

Something told me Connors would be spending the night in the laboratory. But as I said, without the emitter, the formula wouldn't work. Moreover, the highly inert compounds in one part of the formula would prevent the other from taking effect. Connors couldn't develop an emitter herself. And to activate the compounds without external influence, if anyone could do that, they must have forgotten more chemistry than I had ever known.

Calling a taxi, I headed to the public hospital where Stans was being held. Ignoring the incessant chatter of yet another talkative driver who introduced herself as Susan and managed to tell me about the hard life of a lonely girl looking for a guy in five minutes, I arrived at my destination. I asked Sue to wait for me, and she readily agreed. Putting a confident expression on my face, as if I knew exactly where and why I needed to go, I walked past the registration desk and headed straight for the elevator. From the hospital's website, I knew they kept coma patients on the fourth floor, but I didn't know Stans's room number. I would have to improvise. It shouldn't be too difficult.

Getting out of the elevator, I unexpectedly came face to face with an old acquaintance.

"Bobbi? What the hell are you doing here?" I exclaimed, but remembering we weren't alone, I jumped out of the elevator, grabbed the girl's elbow, and pulled her toward the coffee machine.

"Parker," Bobbi whispered, barely focusing her gaze on me. "I wanted to talk to the Doc. I thought you had already helped her."

"That's exactly what I'm about to do. Hey, I don't like the way you look. Dilated pupils, shifty eyes, excessive sweating. Are you on something? I told you to lay low."

"Yes, yes, you're right. I need to disappear, lie low somewhere," Bobbi hastily agreed. As she spoke, her hands had a life of their own. She would hug herself, then start wringing her elbows. "And get something to eat. Yes, I need to eat."

"What is wrong with you? You could get caught up in Cindy's case. The hearings are already underway. Pull yourself together."

"It's just the weed. Too strong," Bobbi made an excuse and broke free from my grip. "I'll go. You help the Doc. You promised, Parker. You promised," she repeated, moving toward the elevator.

What was wrong with this woman? Why hadn't nature equipped her with a survival instinct?

"Hey, what room is the Doc in?" I called after her.

"Four fifteen," Bobbi answered, already standing in the elevator. Then she added in a half whisper, apparently convincing herself. "It's okay. Parker won't turn us in. No need to worry."

"Idiot. And these are the people I save." At least now I knew what room Stans was in.

Wait. Room. What if Bobbi was covering her tracks? What if she had decided to eliminate Stans so she wouldn't lead the cops to her when she woke up? Damn.

I rushed to the room. I needed Stans alive. She might be the only link to my father. Bursting into the room, I immediately heard the sound of working equipment. She was still alive.

I examined the woman. No signs of an assassination attempt were visible. The patient lay quietly under an IV drip of saline solution. I had probably suspected Bobbi for no reason. Maybe the drugged girl really just wanted to talk to her friend.

Either way, I didn't have much time. In half an hour, Flash would be picking me and MJ up, and I still hadn't dressed for the evening.

Pinching the IV tube, I disconnected the bag and poured the contents into it. Apparently, the doctors suspected intoxication since they were administering sodium chloride, commonly known as saline solution. At least it shouldn't interfere with the antiserum.

I heard rapid footsteps in the hallway, and I hurried to move out of the visible part of the room. Waiting for the nurse to leave, I retreated from the scene of my good deed and soon found myself listening again to Susan's confessions. Not only did she drive me to the clothing store, but she also helped me choose. That seemed a bit beyond a taxi driver's duties. One way or another, twenty minutes after leaving the hospital, I found myself standing at my front doorstep with a bag of clothes in one hand and Susan's business card in the other. So this was how local girls pursued men. I needed to be more careful. I was only glad I had managed to insist on a classic cut black shirt and pants, not the acid bright horror with short sleeves that Susan and the saleswomen had recommended. In that outfit, I wouldn't even be able to hide my web shooters.

There was very little time left. Just enough to take a shower and change. Honestly, I no longer wanted to go anywhere and regretted not scheduling the date with MJ for another day. It seemed I needed to remember that this body got tired much faster than the one I was used to.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 9: Good Company, Bad Place

I barely had time to get myself cleaned up and pick up MJ before Thompson arrived. The funny thing was, Mary Jane was just coming out of her house to come get me. That was how things worked around here. Girls invited boys on dates, gave gifts, paid compliments, walked them home, and so on. We were laughing about how our intentions had crossed when Thompson's car screeched to a stop dangerously close to the Watsons' fence.

"Damn it, Audrey. I asked you not to drive like a maniac," Harry complained from the front seat.

I smirked. That was the first time I had heard Flash's first name in this world. Audrey, meaning "noble strength." How fitting. Her parents in this world had clearly been guided by the same principles when naming their child. And they had been just as wrong. Because of Eugene Thompson, that name had long been associated in my mind with anything but nobility. I was sure most of the girls in our class felt the same way about the name Audrey.

"Don't pout, baby. You know I drive perfectly fine," Flash leaned over and kissed Harry on the lips. He didn't push her away, but he didn't show much enthusiasm either.

Wow. I would love to tell the Goblin from my world that his son was dating Flash Thompson. Ha. Norman would have eaten his glider in rage.

"Shall we?" I led Mary Jane toward the car and started to help her inside, but this Mercedes Benz E class cabriolet didn't have rear doors. She just vaulted over the frame herself. Her short red skirt fluttered in the air, clearly chosen to match her hair.

Ha, different world, different rules, Peter. At least she didn't offer to help me in. I walked around the car and climbed in as well. I wondered how much more expensive Eugene's collectible Plymouth Prowler was than Audrey's production Mercedes. Well, at least this car had back seats. I remembered drunk Mary Jane riding home on the frame of that damn rarity. I didn't even know what I felt more when I saw scenes like that. Hatred for Flash or worry for MJ.

"Let's go," I shouted and slapped Audrey on the shoulder. "Let's tear it up."

It turned out I hadn't made a bad choice picking the Bunker as our date spot. Mary Jane was the lead singer of a band, and they had recently had their first performance right here. So entry for her friends wasn't free, but it came with a significant discount. Apparently, MJ had really torn it up that night. I hadn't even thought of that. I had brought money, of course. But what if entry was by invitation only or required tickets? I couldn't believe I was saying this, but damn it, I was lucky that in this world, it was normal for girls to handle the organizational details like this. And I still had to insist on paying for myself at the door.

The girls found this a bit strange. For them, my actions must have looked like I was drawing a line between us, signaling that I didn't want to take our relationship further. Even Harry looked at me with disapproval. It was impossible to keep up with local customs. But that was no reason to change myself. I just couldn't let myself become like the local effeminate men. Harry was different. Even though he let Thompson pay for him and sometimes acted too soft, he still looked almost normal to me. But the native men, it was physically painful for me to be in the same room with them. I thought the ones I had seen on the street were strange. Not even close. What occasionally popped up here left me speechless. A couple of anorexic looking guys in pink outfits kissing each other in the middle of the dance floor to cheers and applause, that wasn't even the strangest thing. And no, they weren't gay. Each of them had come with a group of two girls. They just suddenly started dancing together and making out in front of everyone.

At least I didn't embarrass myself when we hit the dance floor after downing a hundred grams of something Thompson ordered to get our courage up. I had been a Michael Jackson fan since childhood and had spent a lot of time practicing in front of a mirror with a brush in my hand. I never had a voice, and I never had the courage to show off my skills. I was the class punching bag and outcast.

Gwen Stacy was the first to overcome my shyness and get me to dance. By that time, my confidence in my own clumsiness was deeply ingrained in my self perception. Even my superhuman agility and flexibility from the spider bite didn't help. Childhood complexes aren't easy to erase, especially in front of everyone, especially when you aren't wearing a mask.

Mary Jane was surprised that I could keep up with her without looking like a clumsy nerd. But without preparation, flexibility, and basic muscle memory, I shouldn't get too cocky. I couldn't do the moonwalk in this body, and this commercial electro dance wasn't suited for that kind of move anyway. Most people here were just jerking around to the beat with no idea how to dance.

Meanwhile, Osborn and Thompson had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, and we finally had some time alone. The DJ changed the track. This time, it was some bubbling Latin beat, just what I needed. MJ felt the music well and easily transitioned to smoother, closer movements. Very close.

Mary Jane pressed her back against me. She writhed so passionately. My sweaty palms roamed freely over her body. I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life. I thought I could hear her heart pounding wildly, even through the noise of the dance floor. Or was that my own heart? This was some kind of trance.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and the dancers slowed down. The room fell into silence and semi darkness. I caught MJ's glazed over gaze. Slowly, the haze of arousal faded from her eyes. Embarrassment appeared on her face. She looked away, not knowing what to do in this situation. Seeing her like that, I felt an unprecedented surge of joy in my chest. She was so innocent and so sexy at the same time.

"Mary Jane," I called to her softly.

She lifted her head to look me in the eyes again. I leaned in carefully and kissed her. With my right hand, I ran my fingers through her hair. With my left, I pulled MJ toward me. My hand was just an inch from ecstasy and ruin. I was simply happy in that moment, my mind empty of thoughts.

She was so inexperienced. She just froze, afraid to breathe, not daring to move. But this was one of the best kisses of my life. It was exactly as it should be.

Finally, the lights came up. Mary Jane flinched and pulled away from me, as if afraid of being caught. I had never known this side of MJ. The woman I had once married wouldn't have hesitated to show our intimacy to everyone around us. That was because I had waited so long. My first love had gone from being a carefree girl to a mature, experienced woman. I loved her that way too, but there was sadness in my heart. I regretted the lost time. This time, things would be different.

"Let's go to the bar," I suggested, and MJ agreed.

In the noisy crowd we had to push through to get to the bar, Osborn and flash were nowhere to be seen. I held the flushed MJ tightly against me.

People were staring at us with their mouths open. Two androgynous lesbians looked at Mary Jane with envy in their eyes. But they quickly looked away when our eyes met. Oh, how touching. One girl was trying to act butch, the other was trying to act feminine, but they looked exactly alike. Apparently, they were ready to move in together and had only come here to pretend to flirt with each other. Was it really so hard for a girl to find a man in this world that she had to resort to such tricks?

The bartender gave me a sly squint and offered me another cocktail. But I ordered sparkling water. I hadn't come here to get drunk. The girl just smirked condescendingly. MJ followed my example. She had never liked alcohol. Most children of alcoholic fathers didn't. I hadn't seen her parents in this world, but I suspected MJ's childhood hadn't been the easiest.

After taking a break, we went looking for Thompson and Osborn. That was MJ's idea. Apparently, she was just buying time to collect herself. The two of them weren't on the main dance floor or the back one.

"Maybe they went out for some fresh air," I hinted that the couple, wherever they were, didn't want to be found. MJ didn't seem to get it.

"Yeah, it's stuffy in here. Let's go outside."

"If you want." We crossed the back dance floor and went out into the courtyard. But there were still a lot of people, and our lovebirds were nowhere in sight. Mary Jane headed toward the other end of the yard.

"Maybe we should just stand here or go back to the dance floor," I suggested. If they were back there, they probably wouldn't appreciate our company. But the girl didn't listen. Was she really so curious about what those two were up to, or was she just afraid of continuing our kiss?

When we reached the trashy, not particularly pleasant smelling back courtyard, it seemed empty at first. But as soon as MJ stepped out of the bottleneck leading from the main yard, she stopped, then recoiled right back into my arms.

"Oh, you found them. Congratulations. Now what are you going to do?" I chuckled to myself.

Thompson had Osborn pinned against the wall of the back dance floor and was kissing him passionately. She was practically licking him. Her hands were groping him through his fly. I really wish I hadn't heard him moaning.

Before they noticed us, I pulled MJ to the other side of the entrance. Wow. Dirt, crunchy beer cans, and used condoms underfoot. This place was totally in the spirit of the Flash Thompson I used to know. If Audrey had chosen places like this before to grope and try to fuck Osborn, it was no wonder that such a decent guy like Harry hadn't let her get to home base yet. And I was afraid that joke wasn't too far from the truth. What a crazy world.

So what now, MJ? Are we going to stand here listening to Thompson's heavy breathing and Osborn's moans, or are we going to risk slipping back into the courtyard through the illuminated area? I leaned close to the frozen girl's ear and whispered.

"Is this what you wanted to see?"

She flinched and turned to me.

"No, I..." MJ fell silent, not knowing what to say. Then, gathering her courage, she looked me in the eyes.

She put her hand on my chest, pressed her whole body against me, stood on her tiptoes, and hesitantly tried to kiss me. We could have kissed just as easily on the dance floor or in the clean courtyard. Oh, MJ. I returned the kiss. This time, Mary Jane wanted to take the initiative. She even tried to use her sharp tongue. But out of inexperience, she bumped her teeth against mine a few times.

We pulled apart, and I gave the uncertain girl an encouraging smile. I remembered how scary it was the first time. How scary it was to be rejected. I felt her hesitant touch on my pants.

"May I?" MJ asked, barely audible. She was trembling with excitement.

This was wrong. All wrong. I was starting to understand Osborn. I didn't want to do this in some dark alley surrounded by beer cans and other garbage. But I could see that it had taken all of MJ's courage to take this step. I didn't want to push her away now. Besides, I doubted she would go too far.

Instead of answering, I smirked and kissed MJ. Much rougher and more demanding than before. Like an adult. With passion, tongue, and biting her lips. Not expecting such pressure, the girl moaned into my mouth and closed her eyes, surrendering to the kiss. She didn't get scared. She grew bolder, fumbling for my belt buckle and wrestling with my stubborn zipper.

She finally got my pants open. She freed my soldier and began stroking it without stopping the kiss. Soon, she ran out of air. We pulled back slightly. She was breathing heavily. Finally, thanks to the scent of her perfume, I stopped smelling the stench of this place. She looked down at my erect cock. Well, erect was too strong a word. Hey, weren't you bigger in your past life? What the hell... although, I was sixteen again. I didn't remember when I had reached my usual size. Wait a minute, it wasn't because of the spider bite. Damn, I didn't remember if gaining superpowers had affected that. At the time, I was only cheating on my right hand with my left, and the girls weren't picky about size. At least Mary Jane didn't look disappointed. She finally looked away from my magnificent teenage dignity and met my eyes.

"Do you like it?" Her voice sounded much more confident than before.

"Honestly?" MJ nodded. "I'm not a fan of hand jobs."

Mary Jane looked at me blankly.

"Oh... what... what would you like me to do?" Her confidence had diminished.

The Mary Jane I knew had always preferred to say what she wanted directly. She expected the same from me. She got annoyed when I tried to hint at things. But she got much more turned on by dirty talk. Should I be gentle now? This MJ was still a girl.

I leaned to her ear and whispered.

"You brought me to this place. You took my cock in your hand. And now you're asking what I want you to do?" Mary Jane held her breath for a few seconds, then nodded. Good reaction, I smiled to myself.

"I want you," I said, slowly enunciating each word, "to suck me off."

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 10: MJ, Are You OK?

Mary Jane exhaled sharply. She hadn't been breathing the whole time I was speaking. I couldn't see her face, so I could only guess what expression she might have right now.

Her hand, which had frozen the moment I said I wasn't a fan of hand jobs, began moving again. She gently stroked the shaft of my cock with her fingers. Then, finally, she worked up the courage to look at me.

A triumphant smirk played on Mary Jane's lips. It was the kind of smile a guy would wear if he had just landed the hottest girl in class. I was sure my own face wore the same smug expression when I said goodbye to my virginity in Gwen's arms.

"Whatever you say," she whispered and lowered herself into a squat. Her knees definitely shouldn't touch this ground.

I could barely believe this was real. I had just suggested to a girl I barely knew, in a dirty, trash filled alley behind a nightclub, that she give me a blowjob. And she was okay with it.

The Mary Jane Watson I knew would never have agreed to something like this. At least, not so quickly. To her, I was just a quiet, nerdy stranger named Peter Parker who had only started talking to her today.

But different world, different rules. I was starting to realize that this situation was just as unusual for this world as it was for my past one. Not because Mary Jane agreed, but because I had suggested it. Or rather, because I had allowed it.

Flash had been trying to get into Osborn's pants for years, and he kept playing hard to get. That seemed strange to me, but for the locals, it was normal. That was how a respectable guy was supposed to act.

MJ pulled my pants down a little further and examined me with genuine interest, her hands exploring. Soon, I felt the touch of her soft lips, then her sharp tongue, and finally the firm softness of her teeth on my skin. I didn't care that she wasn't very skilled, that her teeth grazed my skin too often and too hard. On the contrary, it made me happy. I only regretted that I couldn't return the favor right now. I shouldn't have rushed. We could have done this at my place.

She was doing just fine on her own, though.

I noticed that her other hand had disappeared under her short red skirt. Judging by the sounds, there was already a waterfall down there. Wow. In the past, it had taken a lot of effort to get Mary Jane that wet. Not to mention that in my entire life, I had only known one girl who actually got off on pleasuring her partner with her mouth. And that wasn't Mary Jane. I could only guess whether local girls were typically this easy to arouse.

I wanted to tell Mary Jane that she was being too loud. But then I realized that I hadn't heard any sounds from the other side of the courtyard for a while.

"MJ," I whispered, running my fingers through her hair. "I'm almost there."

But Mary Jane only worked her mouth more intensely and kept her hand busy under her skirt. Fine. I had warned her.

She seemed to have managed to give herself a small orgasm while giving me a blowjob. That was the only way I could explain why her moans drowned out even my heavy breathing at that moment.

"Ugh, that's disgusting," Mary Jane's voice pulled me back from cloud nine. At least in that regard, she hadn't changed.

I don't know how it was for other guys, but I had noticed a little quirk about myself. I couldn't help but love any girl I had just come on or in the mouth of. It was like some damn instinct that was impossible to resist. There was no need to.

Right now, I was overwhelmed with tenderness for Mary Jane. I quickly pulled a clean handkerchief from my pants pocket and helped her wipe the remaining semen from her face.

"Thanks," she whispered, embarrassed, taking the handkerchief from me. She seemed flustered by the gesture.

"I think Harry and Audrey have already left," Mary Jane said uncertainly a minute later, after she had composed herself.

"Yeah, definitely. They noticed us," I answered her unspoken question. "No, I doubt they realized it was us."

Mary Jane still looked unsure.

"So what if they did?" I pulled her to me and kissed her hard.

Mary Jane's eyes widened in surprise, but then she kissed me back with even more enthusiasm than before. She pressed her whole body against me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and held me for a full minute.

Soon after, we returned to the dance floor and found our classmates. They were just heading to the bar, and we joined them. Thompson ordered another round of drinks for everyone and looked at MJ suspiciously.

"Where have you two been?" she asked.

Hearing this, Mary Jane gave her a provocative, triumphant smile.

"Dancing," she said, eagerly downing her shot.

"Then why do you look so pleased with yourself?" Flash tossed back her own drink.

"Peter is a good dancer," MJ smirked.

But Audrey wasn't fooled. She narrowed her eyes even more, as if hoping to find evidence of a crime that way.

Osborn, meanwhile, sipped his drink slowly and watched me with interest. At least he didn't ask for a straw. Small mercies.

"You've changed," he finally said. "Did something happen in the last two weeks?"

I thought about my answer. More precisely, I tried to dig out of my memory anything about the relationship between Harry and Peter before my arrival here. There wasn't much.

A few years ago, Osborn had tried to find common ground with Parker. They were the only guys in the class, after all. But Peter refused to engage at all, and Harry had nothing to interest his mind, which was so disconnected from reality. They had absolutely nothing in common. In the end, Harry quickly gave up and stopped trying.

"Something did happen," I said, noticing that not only Osborn but also the girls were listening carefully.

"Something good?" Mary Jane asked, then, seeing that the others didn't understand, clarified. "Did something good happen?"

"More yes than no. At least for me." I couldn't give a definitive answer to that question.

"Whatever happened," Thompson jumped into the conversation, "it did you good. I like the new Parker. You used to sit in the back like an alien. You couldn't get a word out of you except about lessons."

Audrey threw her arm over my shoulder and squeezed with all the force of her trained body. You couldn't even imagine how much strength was in the hands of the leading forward of the district's strongest high school football team. For example, in my current shape, if I put on full football gear, I wouldn't even run a kilometer. I would die on the second hundred meter.

To stop this torture, I poked her in the solar plexus with my fingers. Not hard, just enough to loosen her grip. Audrey, though not a professional fighter, had a pretty solid core. But I got what I wanted and escaped from her suffocating embrace while Thompson caught her breath.

"You little shit," she wheezed.

"Ha ha," Osborn laughed. "He got you."

Flash glared at Harry, but she still forced a smile and let it go. Wow, men really weren't taken seriously here. For Thompson, a confrontation with me was impossible without losing her self respect and dignity.

"How about a drive around the city?" Mary Jane suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

No one objected. Ten minutes and two more rounds of drinks later, we were sitting in Audrey's convertible. I felt uncomfortable being in a car driven by a drunk Thompson who was trying to regain her leadership points by showing off her driving skills. I couldn't do anything if she lost control. Nervously pressing myself into the seat, I tried to remember my school days. Had Eugene ever crashed his damn Plymouth Prowler? I couldn't recall. It had been so long. Such early, insignificant details of my life had started to fade even in my past world after waking up from hibernation.

Thank God it all worked out. A few hours of pointless driving around the city and a dozen stupid ideas that popped into Audrey's head later, I managed to convince my friends that it was time to go home. While we were driving, Mary Jane, who couldn't boast tolerance for alcohol but hadn't missed a single toast, fell sound asleep.

Stopping outside the Watsons' house, Thompson started to stumble out of the car, clearly intending to shake the girl awake. She really was a great driver to handle the car so perfectly in that condition. Seriously, her own body obeyed her worse than the car had a few minutes ago.

"Don't bother," I stopped her. "I've got it."

Under the surprised looks of Thompson and Osborn, I carefully lifted MJ out of the car and carried her in my arms.

"Well, well, I've never seen that before," Audrey whistled, then looked at Harry doubtfully, apparently imagining herself in Mary Jane's place. A second later, she shuddered in disgust at the thought.

"See you at school," I hinted to my classmates that it was time for some people to disappear into the night. Then, turning my back to them, I headed toward the house. Mary Jane was heavier than I had expected. I needed to hurry.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Thompson's voice reached me, accompanied by a strange noise, as if the girl had fallen back into the car without opening the door.

"What are you doing?" Harry exclaimed. "Get off me. You're heavy. God, Audrey, what is wrong with you?"

Instead of answering, Thompson started the engine and hit the gas.

By this time, I had managed the latch on the Watsons' gate and was approaching the front door. It was already almost four in the morning, and no lights were on in the house. Since I knew where Mary Jane's room was, I would try not to wake anyone, including the girl herself.

The key was in the most reliable and unpredictable place in the universe, under the front door's awning. So I managed to sneak inside unnoticed with a sleeping girl in my arms. Streetlight filtered through the uncurtained windows, so I could more or less see where I was going. Counting every creaking and groaning step on the stairs, I finally made it to Mary Jane's room on the second floor and laid her down on the bed with relief. I sat down next to her to catch my breath.

She was still fast asleep, so I had to undress her myself and cover her with a blanket. While folding her clothes on a chair, I accidentally bumped her desk, causing her computer to wake from sleep mode.

I was about to just turn it off, but my attention was caught by an open browser tab. "Your First Date with a Guy, or What Not to Do to Make Sure It Isn't Your Last."

Scanning the bullet points, I found such gems as:

- If he agreed to the date, it means he likes you. You caught his attention and stood out from the crowd. So be confident.
- He will be evaluating you, watching you. Think about how to behave so he gets a good impression.
- Read his signals. Is he into you but shy about showing it? He listens carefully and looks at you. That's noticeable right away.
- He laughs at your jokes. That's how he shows his sympathy and wants you to see it.
- He's not trying to prove anything to you. He's not acting tough. He's comfortable with you, completely relaxed.
- Be reasonable. The guy needs to know you're not a maniac and he won't be going home in four black trash bags.
- Listen carefully to what he says. Show him that his interests are close to your heart. Don't forget that men don't think about sex constantly like we do.
- Show that you're not a nympho. Don't initiate kisses. Don't grope him without reason. Timing is everything.

But the advice I liked best was for the third date.

- If you want to get him into bed, don't skimp on foreplay. Let the whole date become one big foreplay. Work him over. Make him think about sex as often as you do.

According to the logic of this article, I was constantly being worked over, since I thought about sex as often as the girls did.

I turned off Mary Jane's computer and quietly left the house. I could barely stand. I hadn't slept much the night before, and I had had a very eventful day since then. I needed to do something about my stamina.

Also, I didn't like how quickly my sexual desire had evaporated after just a simple blowjob. I was sixteen. I should be like a barrel filled to the brim with sperm. Wouldn't it make sense for the rare men of this world to have heightened sexual desire to compensate for their scarcity? But my own experience in this body and the online advice for girls suggested otherwise. Either this world's Peter Parker had been average to begin with, or my spider talents weren't limited to combat. So, considering the opportunities this world offered, losing my superpowers was turning into a real disaster. It was late now, but something had to be done about this mess. How had Mumbler put it? Men were just useless garbage, and she didn't need a boy with a limp dick who couldn't even get angry. Well, that wasn't me. No way was I going to put up with this state of affairs, even if fate had thrown me into this body.