Spider-Man - Chapter 2: Super Redhead (Patreon)

Peter could become Spider-Man, but he must not become Spider-Man.

He still had no idea which universe he'd ended up in. There were simply too many strange, chaotic comic-book continuities, and decades of serialization had created so many complications that predicting Peter Parker's future was practically impossible.

“Having too many stories is a problem in itself. But if the boy named Peter... well, that would be me. If I become Spider-Man, then Uncle Ben is definitely going to die.”

It was like how the only place you could visit Batman's parents was a cemetery. Spider-Man, meanwhile, never got to keep his Ben.

It had practically become destiny. Someone always had to say those famous words, “With great power comes great responsibility.”

But if Gwen became Spider-Man, Ben wouldn't have to die.

The person who died in that version wasn't Ben. It was Peter.

And only after he'd transformed into the Lizard and Gwen had beaten him to death, no less.

That experience forced Gwen to grow up on her journey as Spider-Man. She stopped being a kid who played hero simply because it was exciting and truly began walking the path of a hero.

For Peter, however, that was a pretty miserable fate.

Still, he'd rather take control of his own life and death than allow fate to murder the Uncle Ben who'd raised him.

Besides, he genuinely had no desire to become Spider-Man.

Perhaps it was another consequence of the comics running for so many years. The villains Spider-Man spared always seemed to break out of prison again and again, or get resurrected for the sake of their popularity, only to hurt Peter all over again.

Ben died. Gwen left. Mary Jane took their future child and walked away. At one point, Peter couldn't even afford the bill for his seriously ill Aunt May.

“And yet he always gets back up, no matter how much he suffers. It's amazing.”

As a transmigrator, Peter didn't think he possessed that kind of resilience.

More importantly, he didn't agree with the idea that great power automatically brought great responsibility.

American superhero fairy tales were stories for children.

It was like claiming that someone with the ability to save others had been born solely for that purpose.

Just because you had power, were you supposed to live like a saint, devoting yourself to helping everyone else?

And everyone else could simply enjoy the benefits with a clear conscience while waiting to be saved?

Apparently, everyone else could just sit back and wait for a savior without feeling guilty about it.

“Let Peter the Spider-Man bow out, and welcome Gwen the Spider-Woman instead!”

“What are you talking about, Peter?” A red-haired girl spoke from where she was leaning against a locker.

“Oh, my God. Mary Jane, you're still here?” Peter blurted out. Realizing immediately that he'd said something rather unkind, he changed the subject. “Well, how about grabbing a snack at the hot dog stand on Thirteenth Street?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Peter?” Mary Jane replied. “Who chooses a hot dog stand for a date?”

“Weren't you waiting here for me?” Peter shrugged. “Unless you were waiting for someone else. In that case, I apologize for assuming.”

“Don't you know you're not supposed to keep a girl waiting, Peter?” Mary Jane turned and started walking away.

Peter knew better than to let her go alone. He hurried after her, then walked backward in front of her. “All right, all right. Who's made our dear Miss Mary so angry?”

“Your boyfriend Thompson?”

“He's the only one who calls himself that.”

“But you haven't denied it, have you?”

“Wasn't it supposed to be someone else?”

“I don't see it that way. We're still too young, and I can't give you what you want.”

“Can't give me what I want? You don't even know what I want!” Mary Jane quickened her pace and shoved Peter aside.

“All right, all right.” Peter raised his hands at her anger, making no attempt to chase after her.

She flagged down a taxi and prepared to leave.

“Are you really going to let a girl go home by herself?” she called.

“Guess I'm not getting that hot dog, then. Not that I liked that stand anyway. The buns are soggy and the sauce is too salty.” Peter climbed into the taxi after her.

“Actually, I like your cooking much better than hot dogs, Peter. When can I come over for dinner again?” Mary Jane asked.

“Whenever you want. All you have to do is climb over the fence. I can make an extra serving.” Peter spoke calmly. “Of course, Aunt May's cooking is good, too.”

Peter and Mary Jane were childhood friends. They'd attended the same schools from elementary school through high school, and their houses were right beside each other. Even their bedroom windows faced one another.

She really did have to cross only a single fence to reach his home.

But Mary Jane had an awful family situation. Her mother was divorced, and her father was an abusive alcoholic. Growing up in that environment had twisted her personality in some troubling ways.

At one point, Mary Jane had asked Peter to take their relationship further.

He'd agreed, and what followed had been the worst year of his life.

After that, Peter understood that he wasn't the Peter who ought to become Spider-Man, and that he and Mary Jane weren't right for each other.

Unfortunately, she kept pursuing him, which was giving him an endless headache.

“I'm not saying Aunt May's food isn't good, but I prefer yours, Peter. Once you've tasted it, you can't forget it. You know what I mean? Just like you.”

“All right, please stop saying things people could misunderstand. Driver, just take us to the subway station.”

The real reason Mary Jane praised his cooking was simple.

He couldn't stand the food he'd grown up with.

When Peter had first been adopted as a little boy, his two scientist parents had been the sort of researchers who did little besides send money home. They were rarely around, so he'd learned to cook for himself.

Later, they had practically dumped him at Aunt May's home and left him there.

Years of practice had made him such an accomplished cook that he could satisfy everyone in his family and the neighbors next door.

In this world, Mary Jane had gone to live with her father after her parents divorced. With an alcoholic and violent father like Philip Watson, she often ended up covered in injuries.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben took pity on her. Whenever she fled her house, they gave her somewhere safe to stay.

They'd practically raised her like a goddaughter.

After Peter arrived in their lives, he and Mary Jane were nearly inseparable, though they'd grown distant once they reached high school.

That distance had been Peter's choice.

“I don't like him,” Mary Jane said after a long pause.

“Who?”

“Thompson.”

“Mm.”

Peter's indifferent response only made her angrier. “Maybe you should try playing football yourself. You might look a little more manly.”

“I'm not particularly fond of the sport. I'd rather spend five hundred dollars on a Broadway show than watch a free charity football game at the stadium.”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, Peter.” There was genuine irritation in Mary Jane's voice now. Clearly, he understood what she was trying to say.

But he always reacted like this. Whether she offered him roses or came at him with her fists, nothing seemed to get through to him. Whatever she did, Peter responded with the same maddening calm.

Just like now.

Even if Mary Jane started breathing fire, Peter would probably keep watching the scenery slide past the taxi window.

In the end, Mary Jane relented. “Peter... I...”

“I already gave you a chance, Mary Jane,” Peter replied.

“...”