163. The Line That Had to Be Crossed. (Patreon)

Peter POV:

The humming of the Siphon was a low. It vibrated like someone dragging a star across steel. It pressed against my ribs, rattled my teeth and cast harsh ultraviolet shades across the ruined control deck of the Helicarrier and it became more annoying with the mix of Ohnn's screaming and everything. The entire chamber felt like it was breathing in and out with unstable dimensional energy, which in a sense was.

Spot floated at the center of the cage. If you could call the writhing silhouette of a being made of holes “floating.” His dark body spasmed against the interlocking beams of the dampener grids, arcs of pale blue light slashing across his frame every time the siphon pulled another chunk of stolen dimensional charge out of him.

The world stank of hallucinations and distortions.

Frank’s MJOLNIR boots clanged heavy steps as he paced. Tony hovered beside him, repulsors flickering unsteadily. Power surges from the siphon were playing hell with the systems. Even Hulk, standing in the far corner, occasionally winced as the vibrations made his skull ache.

Miguel was the only one who didn’t move.

He knelt on the deck, wrists and ankles bound by Vibranium-S restraints. The restraints crawled with flickering orange containment lines barely functioning after everything the Helicarrier had been through but still strong enough to hold him.

For the moment.

His mask had retracted, but his eyes…

God. I’d seen fury. I’d seen desperation. But nothing like this. At least not outside of my face.

Miguel stared at the Siphon like a man watching a bomb counting down to his own children’s deaths.

I forced myself to breathe steady as I approached him. The Warpattern Helios Mk.II armor hissed with every step. Servos adjusting, joint stabilizers compensating for the tremors shaking the entire carrier. Hardlight panels flickered across my gauntlets as diagnostic data scrolled through my HUD.

SPOT STABILIZATION: 53%

DIMENSIONAL CHARGE DRAIN: ACTIVE

CAGE INTEGRITY: 61% AND FALLING

Not good, but still under control.

“Miguel,” I said, voice tight through the speaker. “It’s over. He’s contained. We’re draining the energy before he destabilizes anything else.”

Miguel didn’t look at me. Didn’t blink.

“You idiots.” His voice was hoarse, cracking at the edges. “You think a dampener cage can hold him? You think extracting energy from a nexus-level anomaly is simple? You’re children playing with antimatter.” His chest heaved. “If the discharge feedback spikes, this entire universe will shear apart at the seams.”

Tony snorted. “Great bedside manner, as always.”

“Stark,” Frank murmured, “not helping.”

Miguel’s eyes twitched toward them. Just for a second then snapped back to the cage.

“He isn’t just leaking dimensional energy,” Miguel hissed, voice rising. “He is dimensional instability. You drain him wrong, even by a fraction...”

A tremor slammed through the deck. The lights flickered. Spot convulsed in the cage, a hollow scream echoing from a throat that shouldn’t have produced sound at all.

I steadied myself against a guardrail.

“We’ve got it under control.” I said, more firmly than I felt.

Miguel raised his head.

There was a shift in his expression. Something terrifying.

Not rage.

Not fear.

Conviction.

“Peter,” He hissed. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

He stood.

He shouldn’t have been able to stand.

The clamps strained, sparks spitting from the locking channels.

“Tony—!” I barked.

Tony turned. Too slow.

Miguel roared and tore the clamps apart with sheer desperation and will.

The Vibranium-S restraints exploded outward in a shower of light and metal fragments. Miguel surged forward with a speed that almost tore the air as if emboldened and empowered by something magical because for a moment even I couldn't react.

“STOP HIM!” Frank shouted.

Hulk lunged.

A shockwave of glowing red talons erupted from Miguel’s hands. Hulk was thrown backward, slammed into the far bulkhead so hard the steel crumpled like cardboard.

Tony fired repulsors.

They splashed off Miguel’s chest. He ignored the burn.

“MIGUEL, DON’T!” I yelled, sprinting after him without activating my Sandevistan because I feared the kinetic force that would be generated by a behemoth of more than half a ton moving at supersonic speeds so close to the siphon.

He didn’t even hear me.

He was headed for the Siphon field. Straight for the cage. Straight for Spot. Straight for the unstable heart of the entire operation.

If he made contact...

If he disturbed the drain..

If he interfered..

We would all die.

Every universe tethered to this instability would tear open.

I lunged, armor servos screaming.

Miguel leapt.

And then, two streaks of electric-blue light cut the air.

SHHHK—!

They hit Miguel from behind, bursting through his torso—one blade punching out through his sternum, the other just below his ribcage. The impact was so violent that superheated mist erupted where the blades pierced flesh.

Miguel froze.

His breath hitched. Once.

The blades glowed hotter. Then white-hot. Then.

FLASH-BOIL.

A burst of steam, ash and incandescent plasma swallowed him.

Miguel’s body disintegrated into a cloud of burning particles.

The shockwave knocked me backward.

Metal warped under my boots as I slid.

When the light faded—

Only scorched fragments of containment clamps remained.

And behind them…

Gwen.

She was kneeling on the deck, Archangel suit receding, blue lenses dimming as she panted for breath. Her forearms shook, still venting smoke. The blue glow faded out, replaced by trembling hands.

She looked up at me.

Her mask retracted, revealing her face.

Tear-streaked.

Eyes wide.

Lips trembling.

“I… I had to,” She choked out, voice breaking. “Peter... he was going to… he was going to kill you. All of you. I—”

Her breath hitched again.

Her knees gave out fully.

She caught herself with her hands but they shook violently, palms slapping the deck plating.

I rushed to her. Dropping to my knees so hard the armor dented the floor. Cupping her cheeks with trembling gauntlets.

“Gwen. Gwen—look at me. Hey, hey—look at me.”

She tried. She failed. Tears spilled freely.

“I killed him.” She sobbed. “I killed him, Peter.”

Her voice wasn’t triumphant.

It wasn’t relieved.

It sounded like something inside her had cracked.

“He left me no choice,” She said, sobbing into my chestplate. “He was going to destroy everything. Everyone and I… I had to stop him. I had to. I had to—”

I pulled her into my arms as tightly as the armor allowed.

Her body shook against me.

The hum of the Siphon filled the room again. Cold, mechanical, indifferent to the death that had just happened inches from its field.

Around us, nobody spoke.

Not Tony.

Not Frank.

Not even Hulk.

Just the Siphon.

Just Spot screaming in the cage.

Just Gwen shaking against me as I held her.

And just me. Peter Parker.

No powers.

No super strength.

No spider-sense.

Just a man trying to hold his wife together after she killed one of the most dangerous man in the multiverse to save us all.

I was just a man trying not to break with his wife.