155. Return Vector. (Patreon)

Miles Morales (Earth-1610) POV:

Wind howled against the hull of the AV-49 as it sliced through the silent dark above Brooklyn of Earth-42. The cabin lights were dimmed, soft red strips lining the interior like the heartbeat of some stealth predator. I sat strapped into a jump-seat between Gwen and Spider-Punk, fingers digging into the fabric of the restraints. Sweat clung to the back of my neck.

I was going back. Home.

But nothing felt safe anymore.

Across from me, armoured Peter, the one everyone whispered about now stood silent in his War Pattern Helios armor. The plating was dark, as if endless fury was being restrained within his armour. His helmet was attached was attached to the belt of his hip, eyes burning with that sharp, calculating focus that I had already learned to fear and trust. Gwendolyn’s Archangel armor shimmered like starlight beside him, in quiet standby, wings folded.

The compartment jolted slightly due to turbulence and I finally found words.

“Back there… with my other self... Prowler me.” I swallowed. “What did you inject him with?”

Peter didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer, the armour quiet despite the size, voice steady and controlled.

“A synthesized strain of spider-venom,” He said. “Genetically extracted from the arachnid that bit you.”

My eyes widened. “You gave him spider powers?”

“Yes.” Peter shook his head. “The spider that bit you wasn't meant for you, it was about to bite Miles-42 but as it was about to land on Miles-42's hand Johnathon Ohnn now the Spot took it away from its universe.” He hesitated, gaze drifting toward the deck. “That world has enough broken things, now I just gave it's crutches back.”

I exhaled, tension uncoiling from my shoulders. Then...

“You said you also uploaded… memories?” My voice was small.

Peter’s expression hardened into something uncomfortable and paternal.

“Not fake memories. Frameworks. Moral anchors.” He tapped the side of his skull. “Think of them as… guardrails. He can still choose who he becomes. But now, if he walks toward darkness, something in him will tug back. Hard.”

Gwendolyn nodded beside him.

“It’s like emotional insulation.” She added softly. “Without it, he would’ve burned out.”

I didn’t know whether to be horrified or grateful. Maybe both.

“And his New York?” I asked. “It was falling apart. People were terrified.”

Peter lowered his voice.

“In time, that reality’s equilibrium will shift. Fear responds to symbols. With Prowler-Miles stabilized and empowered he’ll become that symbol. He’ll rebuild.” A small smile touched his mouth. “Eventually.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “You’re playing three-dimensional chess with entire worlds." I whispered.

Peter said nothing.

He didn’t need to.

---

The cabin lights flickered as the AV-49 banked hard, guided by Margo’s invisible hand through the city’s radar net. On the holoscreen near the cockpit, The Spot flickered as a white silhouette, glitching through streets like a ghost full of fury.

My heart constricted.

“My dad…” I didn’t finish. My throat closed around the word.

Peter stepped close enough that Miles felt the weight of the armor, the heat of the reactor hum under the plating.

“I know.” Peter said quietly.

“So please,” I breathed, desperation leaking through the cracks of his voice, “let me go back. I have to stop him. I have to save my dad.”

For a heartbeat, I feared Peter would say no, just like Miguel.

Then Peter placed a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. The hand was heavy.

“You will.” Peter promised. “But not alone. Not blind. And not on Miguel’s timetable.”

He lifted his wrist, the Dimensional Navigation Gauntlet blooming to life. Blue threads of possibility spun like silk, forming coordinates, shifting timelines. Plans within plans within plans.

“I already have a counter-operation moving.” Peter continued. “People in position. Fail-safes set. Your father will live.”

My breath stuttered..

“You’re sure?”

Peter’s eyes were a mix of tired, sharp and human and when he looked at me his gaze softened.

“Unlike O'Hara, I don’t gamble with families.”

Gwendolyn’s wings fluttered subtly behind her, as if echoing the vow.

Spider-Punk kicked his boots up against the bulkhead. “Bruv never misses,” He muttered, nodding toward Peter. “When he says he’s got a plan? He’s got a plan, innit.”

I pressed my trembling hands together.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

Peter only looked forward, toward the spreading skyline.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ye murmured. “We haven’t even started.”

---

The AV-49 descended, silent as a falling shadow and a portal opened.

Threads of fate and destiny tightened across the multiverse.

And somewhere, far beyond their horizon...

The Spot laughed manically inside a vortex of impossible holes.

Everything was closing in.