52. Can’t Save Everyone. (Patreon)

Miles stumbled back into his dorm at Visions Academy. His chest was tight, his mask damp from tears. He slammed the door shut, heart racing, pain and fury boiling inside him.

He grabbed a stack of textbooks and hurled them across the room. Instead of falling, they rebounded as if the air itself pushed back. His own power. Mocking him.

“Why now…” He muttered. His fists trembled.

A creak broke the silence. The shadows shifted.

One by one, Spider-people emerged into the cramped dorm. Noir’s fedora dipped under the fluorescent light. Peni’s mech crouched low to squeeze inside. Spider-Ham twirled his mallet nervously. Alternate Gwen kept her hood drawn tight. Gwendolyn stepped forward, her eyes filled with empathy.

And then Peter entered. Not just Peter B., but Peter in his modified ODST MJOLNIR variant armour glowing faintly at the joints, nanobots moving across his gauntlets like liquid steel. The room seemed smaller with him in it.

Miles froze.

They didn’t say anything at first. The weight of what had happened hung thick. Finally, Peter B. broke the silence.

“Kid. You gotta understand something. Being Spider-Man… it’s a choice. And it’s not easy. You don’t always win.”

Noir stepped forward, his gravely voice low. “You can’t always save everyone. I learned that the hard way the night my Uncle Benjamin was gunned down in the rain.”

Peni’s mech let out a sad mechanical hum, her voice cracking through it. “For me, it was my father. He built SP//dr. He trusted me to carry it forward… but he never lived to see it.”

Spider-Ham lowered his head, ears drooping. “I lost my Aunt May. The one who raised me. I still hear her laugh sometimes. Being Spider-Man means… losing pieces of yourself along the way.”

Gwen’s voice was quiet but steady. “In my world, it was Peter. My best friend. And the worst part is… everyone thought I killed him which is true in a way.”

The silence deepened.

Then Gwendolyn stepped in. Her gaze flicked to Peter, then back to Miles. “My story’s different. My loved ones, they're safe. But only because he intervened.” She nodded toward Peter, whose armour's black cast a dark shadow over the room. “Technology that borders on magic. That’s not something most Spider-people have. It’s not the rule. It’s the exception. Don’t mistake it.”

Miles’s throat tightened. Their words cut deeper than any blade.

Before he could answer, the door opened.

“Yo, Miles, I got snacks—” Ganke froze in the doorway. His eyes went wide. A whole squad of Spider-people filled the room, with a man in full ODST MJOLNIR armour standing in the middle.

His jaw dropped.

“…Bro… is that Master Chief?”

And then he fainted, hitting the floor with a thud.

Noir raised an eyebrow. “Odd kid.”

Peter B. sighed, stepping forward. He shot webs that bound Miles to his chair, sticky cords locking him in place.

“You’re not ready. And if you go out there now, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” His voice was firm but not unkind. He glanced at Peter, then at Gwendolyn, then turned for the window. One by one, the others followed.

The door shut. The room went quiet.

Minutes later, a knock came.

Miles froze.

“Miles.” His dad’s voice. Heavy. Tired. The weight of grief pressed into every syllable.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Losing your uncle… I get it. I’m hurting too.” His tone softened. “But listen. I see this new Spider-Man out there. He’s not perfect. He makes mistakes. But he’s trying. And he’s brave. That’s what this city needs right now. Someone brave.”

Miles’s chest ached. He tried to answer, but his mouth was still webbed shut. He pounded against the chair, frustration boiling in his veins.

Jefferson’s voice grew more tender, breaking at the edges.

“And Miles… I love you. You don’t have to say it back. I just need you to know.”

His footsteps faded down the hall.

Something inside Miles snapped. His pulse raced, electricity crawling under his skin.

The webs binding him shivered. Glowed.

Then exploded.

A crackle of venom energy burst from his hands, scattering the bindings across the room, scorching the walls with orange sparks.

Miles stood. His breath was steady now. His eyes burned with resolve.

For the first time, his power wasn’t slipping away.

It was his.

He looked down at his hands, trembling not from fear but from possibility. His reflection stared back at him in the window: masked, battered, but unbroken.

“Alright.” His voice was a whisper, but steady. “Time to be Spider-Man.”

Miles opened his door, stepping into the sunlight.