156. Touching the Sun. (Patreon)

POV: Multiple | Earth-65M

Night draped over Queens like a velvet shroud. The wind tasted of approaching rain, and the quiet suburban street outside the Parker residence felt impossibly ordinary. Too ordinary.

Strike Team 1 materialized from dimensional shimmer, crouching low on the opposite roof.

Ben Reilly tightened his web shooters, his hands shaking with the discomfort of the action he was preparing to commit.

“Alright,” He whispered, voice strained. “Fast, clean, nobody gets hurt.”

Peter Parker, another variant, older, tired eyes beneath the mask swallowed.

“Why are we even doing this?” His voice cracked. “It’s Uncle Ben. Aunt May. Captain Stacy. They’re… they’re family.”

Spider-Plushie squeaked softly, tiny mask trembling.

Cyborg Spider-Woman’s optics flickered. “Miguel said the multiverse demands it.”

Spider-Cat hissed quietly. “Demands? Sounds like an excuse to mask his own insecurities.”

Pter Ptarker fidgeted his small T-Rex arms anxiously. “Still… orders are orders.”

Spidercide muttered under his breath. “This feels wrong. Even for me.”

Tarantula, usually bombastic, was silent. His lips quivered, beneath his mask.

Doppelganger clung to the wall above them, multiple eyes blinking. “H-home,” He rasped. “Like mine…”

Ben Reilly shook himself. “We get in, restrain them, exfil. Don’t think about it.”

They vaulted the fence.

The lawn was calm. The house warm. Through the window, Uncle Ben was making tea. Aunt May knitting. Captain Stacy reading the paper and looked. His eyes filled with sadness when he looked at them.

Peter Parker’s voice broke entirely.

“They look just like...”

Ben cut him off harshly.

“Don’t. Focus. For the multiverse.”

They leapt.

Mid-air, everything went wrong.

SHNK—FWAP-WHIP—KRMPH

Coiling strands shot from the darkness like living serpents. Growing, flexible, constricting bands of glossy black filament. They wrapped torsos, limbs, helmets. Vision vanished behind tightening darkness.

Spider-Cat screeched, claws slashing uselessly.

“What... what IS THIS STUFF?!”

Spidercide struggled; it only tightened.

“It’s expanding...!”

Ben Reilly gasped, arms pinned.

“NO... NO, NOT LIKE THIS...”

Through muffled panic, Peter Parker sobbed. “Uncle Ben… May… Captain Stacy… I’m so sorry…”

Cyborg Spider-Woman’s HUD flickered to black. “This material… nano Vibranium … we were outplayed...”

Doppelganger’s many limbs trembled. “H-he knew…”

Tarantula hissed. “Miguel miscalculated. Big time.”

Pter Pterker roared.

As consciousness faded, they saw distant armored silhouettes watching silently from the rooftops and they were waiting.

And the last thought they shared.

We became exactly what we swore to fight.

Darkness swallowed them.

Parker Tower | Strike Team 2

Araña landed lightly on the glassed walkway, her bulky mechsuit humming. “This feels too easy.”

Spider-Knight raised checked his webshooters, visor scanning. “Traps oft wear the face of comfort.”

Flash Thompson exhaled slowly.

“At least no alarms.”

Charlotte Webber peered ahead. “The med-bay’s open. That’s where Jessica’s being treated.”

Patrick O’Hara tapped his suit’s monitor. “The air's dead… weird. There's no frequencies in the air.”

Spider-Widow shivered. “It’s quiet. Wrong quiet.”

Spider-Therapist (Ezekiel Sims) frowned deeply.

“Sometimes the universe hands you what you think you deserve. And then punishes you for taking it.”

Max Borne adjusted his chrono-gauntlet. “Let’s just get her and go. I sense no traps. It's impossible for him to think that Spider people would stoop so low.”

They moved.

The corridor widened, soft blue lights humming. Ahead, Jessica Drew lay on a bed, attended by nurses and doctors in crisp white coats. Her chest rose and fell peacefully.

Araña exhaled. “She’s alive. Thank...”

CLACK.

The corridor shifted.

Walls telescoped upward with frightening speed, forming a smooth, towering box. The medical staff flickered. Holograms collapsing into static snow.

May Reilly screamed, web-lines trying to latch to the walls. Sliding helplessly.

“NO STICKING! IT’S… TOO SMOOTH!”

Spider-Man Armor MK III swung his repulsors up.

“EMERGENCY THRUSTERS—!”

BWRAAAAAAAP—

A blooming shockwave of EMP tore through the chamber, followed by continuous sonic pulses. Plating sizzled. HUDs died. Gauntlets spat sparks.

Max Borne’s device whined.

“My chrono-tech...NO!”

Flash Thompson clutched his head

“The noise!!!”

Spider-Knight dropped to his knees he started to flicker due to his watch being damaged.

“My watch is glitching?!”

Charlotte Webber gasped, “We’re powerless...”

Then the vents hissed.

A thick, high-density polyurethane foam surged inward. Expanding aggressively. Brown, sticky, suffocating and unforgiving.

Widow snarled but it swallowed her arms.

“I CAN’T—MOVE—!”

Araña struggled violently.

“This stuff is… setting, in the joints!”

Patrick O’Hara grunted. “Density’s increasing! Pressure rising!”

Spider-Therapist went still, eyes heavy with sorrow beneath the mask. “Fighting only makes it harden faster. Stop struggling.”

May Reilly sobbed. “This wasn’t justice… this was fear.”

Spider-Man Armor MK III, chest halfway encased, whispered hoarsely. “Were we… the villains… tonight?”

The foam tightened.

Araña’s last breath escaped as she stared at the sealed ceiling above.

“Miguel… you touched the sun.” She whispered.

“And now…”

The foam hardened completely.

“…you will burn.”