166. Waking to Consequences. (Patreon)

Spider Ensemble POV:

The first thing Max Borne felt was cold.

Not the sharp kind that bites at the skin but a deep, marrow-soaked chill that sat in the bones and stayed there. His eyes snapped open to sterile white light and a thin mist curling past his lips.

He sucked in a breath. The air tasted like artificial cold.

The cryopod lid above him hissed as it slid aside.

“…ngaged. Subject: Max Borne. Vital signs stable.” An automated voice droned somewhere nearby.

Max pushed himself upright, joints stiff, muscles protesting. Across from him, other pods were opening in sequence. One by one, rows of glass coffins birthing confused, shivering figures.

May Reilly blinked hard, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “W-where… are we?” She whispered, voice hoarse.

“Not HQ.” Charlotte Webber muttered as she sat up in her pod, removing the last of the melting frost from her arms. “Colors are all wrong. Smell’s wrong too. Too clean.”

The chamber was low-lit and industrial, walls lined with thick conduits and glowing panels. Each pod was labeled with names and dimensional markers. Max swung his legs over the side and stepped down onto the cold floor, his bare feet echoing faintly in the cavernous space.

Flash Thompson groaned as his pod opened. “If this is the afterlife, I want a refund.” He muttered, rubbing at his cold face.

Spider-Knight pushed his own lid open with dramatic effort, armorless, wearing only a simple black containment suit. “By the Lady’s grace…” he breathed. “This is no realm of angels.”

Across the row, Spider-Man in Spider-Man Armor MK III flicked his eyes open beneath the faceplate, instinctively patting his chest for the chest plate that wasn’t there. “Diagnostics offline.” He muttered out of habit, then paused. “Oh. Right. No armor.”

A tiny, plushy figure popped up from another pod.

Spider-Plushie blinked his sewn-on eyes. “I can’t feel my stuffing.” He announced solemnly.

“Pretty sure that’s normal for you.” Cyborg Spider-Woman rasped, sitting up as metal gleamed under the pod’s mist. Or rather, didn’t gleam. Her cybernetics were dormant, sealed in offline mode. “Hell of a nap, though.”

Spider-Cat emerged from his pod with a mrrowl of indignation, fur puffed up, tail lashing. He shook himself violently, droplets of cryo condensation flicking off his whiskers. “What in the nine lives was that?!”

Pter Ptarker uncurled slowly, feathers ruffled, beak opening on a long yawn. “I dreamed of bread.” He said gravely. “And of worms the size of trucks.”

Ben Reilly’s eyes snapped open, haunted as always, as if every waking moment was another failure waiting to happen. “Miguel…?” He croaked, head turning, searching for the familiar silhouette of the 2099 suit.

He didn’t find it.

Instead, he found Spartans.

A squad of towering figures in MJOLNIR G-variant armor stepped forward. Their visors were opaque, their movements crisp and controlled. No insignia beyond a subtle Parker Industries emblem on their pauldrons.

“Stay calm.” One of them said, voice filtered but steady. “You’re safe. You’re in Earth-65M, Parker Tower. Basement level.”

Max froze. “Parker Tower…?”

Another Spartan spoke. “You are not under attack. You are not prisoners.” A small pause. “Not anymore, anyway.”

Spidercide cracked his neck, eyes narrow. “You know, that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Tarantula swung his legs over the side of his pod, hair disheveled. “Where’s Miguel?” He asked, voice lower, cautious. “Where’s Spider-Society central command?”

The Spartans didn’t answer.

Instead, they gestured toward a heavy blast door that was beginning to slide open.

“Move out.” The squad leader said.

They were led barefoot and maskless through the corridor, flanked on all sides by armored giants. Without their tech, webs, and suits, the spiders felt oddly… small.

Spider-Wolf sniffed the air as they walked. “This place reeks of metal, oil, and… something else. Fear. Regret.”

“Yeah,” Flash said quietly. “Pretty sure that last one is ours.”

Spider-Monkey swung his arms, fidgeting. “I hate walking. I’d rather web. Or ride on somebody’s shoulder. Preferably the big metal one with guns.”

“Denied.” A Spartan replied dryly.

Peter Parker, the Peter Parker among them, the one who’d followed Miguel for so long kept pace in silence, brow furrowed. He walked as though under a weight none of the others could see.

They entered a large room.

Plain steel walls. No windows. Rows of simple metal chairs bolted into the floor. At the end of the room sat a holo-projector.

“Sit.” The squad leader ordered.

Reluctantly, they did.

Max took a chair near the middle. May Reilly sat beside him, stiff-backed. Charlotte folded her hands in her lap. Ezekiel Sims AKA Spider-Therapist ran a slow, assessing gaze along the others, reading microexpressions like a battlefield map.

“Everyone breathing okay?” He asked.

Spider-Plushie threw his tiny arms up. “Emotionally? No. Physically? Also no.”

“Emotionally projected distress is normal.” Ezekiel said mildly. “You were all frozen against your will.”

Pter Ptarker tilted his head. “I feel… crispy. Emotionally not.”

Spider-Knight huffed. “I feel dishonored.”

Spider-Cat hopped into May Reilly’s lap and kneaded it. “I feel like I missed dinner.”

Ben Reilly looked down at his hands. “I feel… like this is going somewhere bad.”

The lights dimmed slightly.

A hologram flickered to life on the far wall.

Peter Parker of Earth-65M appeared. Not in armor, not in suits of cosmic metal but in a plain shirt and dark pants. His hair was slightly messy, dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired in a way that went beyond exhaustion. As if something had been carved out of him and never fully grew back.

“Greetings,” The hologram began, voice steady but worn. “Members of the Spider Society.”

The room went quiet.

“Yes,” Peter continued. “Before anything else Jessica Drew is alive. She’s safe. Being cared for properly. She will be going home with you.”

A visible ripple of relief passed through them.

May Reilly exhaled sharply. “Thank God…”

Patrick O’Hara loosened his shoulders a fraction, glancing at Widow, who nodded back tightly.

“But,” Peter went on, “we need to talk about what happened. About what you were sent here to do and about what it cost.”

The silence sharpened.

“I know why you came,” He said. “Miguel convinced you that my actions, that Gwendolyn’s and mine were threatening the entire multiverse.” His mouth twitched, humorless. “So the plan was simple. Take my family. Uncle Ben, Aunt May, Captain Stacy. Use them as leverage. Then storm Parker Tower, retrieve Jessica and make sure I had no choice but to cooperate.”

Some of them looked down.

Ben Reilly’s hands clenched.

Charlotte swallowed.

Spider-Man Armor MK III’s jaw flexed.

“Here’s the thing,” Peter said softly. “You’re spider-people. You’re supposed to be the ones who don’t do that. And yet… you did.”

Spidercide snorted bitterly. “Some of us weren’t exactly given a vote.”

“I know,” Peter replied. “I also know fear when I see it and desperation. Miguel has been living inside both for a very long time.”

He paused, eyes momentarily distant, as if replaying something none of them could see.

“Let’s address the biggest storm first,” he continued. “Miguel O’Hara is dead.”

The words hit like a shockwave.

May Reilly’s hand flew to her mouth.

Max’s head snapped up.

Patrick O'Hara's shoulders sagged like someone had cut his strings.

Charollette closed her eyes, tears glistening.

Spider-Cat froze mid-lick.

“No,” Peter Parker (Society) whispered. “He… he can’t be.”

Ezekiel’s eyes closed just briefly, then opened again, calm but sad. “How?”

“He tried to stop the siphon,” Peter said. “While we were extracting the dimensional energy from Jonathan Ohnn. The Spot of 1610-B to prevent a collapse, Miguel attempted to disrupt the process. He believed that draining Spot would destabilize the universe of Earth-1610-B. He didn’t listen when I told him the opposite was true.”

The hologram’s gaze hardened.

“If he’d succeeded, the feedback would have triggered a dimensional implosion. Not just local. Multiversal. You, me, every universe you’ve ever sworn to protect. Gone. Like a match snuffed out in a storm.”

Spider-Knight whispered, “By the stars…”

Peter’s expression softened but only barely.

“Gwendolyn stopped him,” He said quietly. “She used her armor’s plasma lances. It was quick. It was brutal and it saved us all.”

Flash swallowed, voice rasping. “So… she had to...”

“She had to kill him.” Peter finished. “Yes.”

A heavy, aching silence followed.

Spider-Monkey stared at the floor. “He was a jerk. But he was our jerk.”

“Our leader was...” Ezekiel said gently. “Flawed. Wounded. Dangerous. But he did believe he was doing the right thing.”

“Believing isn’t always enough,” Max Borne murmured. “Not when you’re wrong.”

Peter nodded once.

“He was wrong,” Peter said. “About cannon events. About how universes die. About Miles. About me. But I don’t hate him for it. I just wish he’d listened before it came to this.”

He drew in a breath, steadied himself, then continued.

“You attacked my home. You tried to abduct my family. You tried to break into my tower. You forced my hand. And still... I’m not going to hold you indefinitely. I’m not going to torture you, erase you, humiliate you. I’m going to give you your gear back.”

The spiders glanced at each other, surprised.

“Your devices have been fully repaired,” Peter continued. “Dimensional watches recalibrated, suits restored. And as… a gesture of apology, and acknowledgment that this shouldn’t have gone this far each of you will receive three vials of Regen Serum v1.0.”

At the side of the room, Spartans opened armored cases.

Inside, their gear lay neatly arranged — masks, suits, tech. Cleaned and intact. Beside each set sat three slender vials of faintly glowing liquid.

“What’s the catch?” Tarantula asked sharply.

Peter’s hologram shook his head. “No catch. The Regen Serum grants temporary hyper-regeneration. It’s not infinity in a bottle. But it’ll keep you alive long enough to make better choices.”

Spider-Plushie raised his tiny arm. “Can I ask a question?”

Peter actually paused, then nodded. “Sure.”

“Are we… forgiven?”

The question hung there.

Dumb. Honest. Childlike.

Peter’s gaze softened, exhaustion giving way to something more contemplative.

“I don’t know if forgiveness is the right word.” He said. “Some things don’t get neatly wrapped up like that. But I understand why you did what you did. I understand fear. I understand grief.”

He glanced aside, as if seeing someone else. Gwendolyn, maybe.

“And I understand responsibility.” He finished. “You still have yours.”

His expression firmed again.

“Jessica Drew will be returning with you,” he said. “She’s… resting. Her pregnancy has advanced, she’ll need support. You will escort her back. And then… you’re going to fix what Alchemax broke.”

Max leaned forward. “The stolen dimensional energy?”

Peter smiled faintly. “You’re quick. Yes. Using Alchemax Super Colliders across multiple universes, the Spot stole dimensional reservoirs and destabilized entire regions. That energy doesn’t belong in him. Or in capacitors. Or in siphon tanks. It belongs where it came from.”

Julia Carpenter exhaled. “So you want the Spider Society to…”

“Return it.” Peter finished. “All of it. Set right what the colliders broke. It’s a big job. But if anyone can map the webs and restore the damage, it’s you all.”

Spider-Man Armor MK III nodded slowly. “We caused some of this. Or we let it happen. So… we fix it.”

“Exactly.”

He looked straight at Max Borne.

“You’re one of the sharp ones." Peter said. “You see patterns. You see systems. You can lead this effort if you choose. You don’t have to replace Miguel. But you can be better than him. Kinder than him. Smarter than him.”

Max swallowed, throat tight, then nodded.

“We have work to do.” Max declared.

One of the Spartans stepped forward and handed him his restored suit and mask. Max took them, fingers closing firmly around the familiar fabric and metal. Then one of the vials.

He turned it over in his hand, watching the liquid swirl inside.

“Three vials each, huh?” He remarked. “You must really want us alive.”

Peter’s hologram huffed something like a laugh. “I don’t hand out resources lightly. But dead spider-people can’t fix what’s broken. And… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that we had to face each other in such a situation.”

One by one, the others rose to collect their gear.

May Reilly accepted her suit, face solemn. “I won’t let this be for nothing.” She said.

Charlotte took hers. “We’re not just Miguel’s shadows.” She murmured. “We can define our own legacy.”

Spider-Knight bowed his head slightly toward the hologram. “You have my oath.” He said. “I will mend what I can of this wounded tapestry.”

Flash sighed and slipped his mask back into his hands. “Guess I’m going back to work,” He muttered. “Could’ve used a vacation, though.”

Spider-Monkey snagged his gear and grinned weakly. “Multiverse won’t fix itself. Let’s go be emotionally unstable heroes again.”

Spider-Wolf bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. “We hunt damage. We hunt regret. And we make them smaller.”

Spider-Cat grabbed his suit in his teeth and trotted off toward the forming group with a muffled, “Mrrow. Fine. But I better get tuna later.”

Spider-Plushie hugged his tiny vials against his chest. “I’ll… try.” he said. “To do better.”

Ezekiel took his own suit, eyes thoughtful. “I think we all need therapy after this.” He mused.

“Start with yourself.” Malala muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

Tarantula ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll make sure they stay on mission.” He said roughly. “No more kidnappings.”

“Good.” Peter’s hologram replied.

The far end of the room shimmered.

A portal blossomed into existence. Not Miguel’s red-blue gate, not Alchemax’s crude collider rip. This was clean, white light, edges stable, humming softly like a held note.

A Spartan pushed a wheelchair forward.

Jessica Drew sat in it, dressed in a hospital gown, a blanket over her legs. Her belly was more rounded now. Her pregnancy advancing. She looked tired, wary but alive, and very much herself.

Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the assembled spiders.

“Guess I missed a lot.” She said dryly.

“Just a multiversal argument, a near-collapse and your boss dying.” Flash said, trying to be nonchalant. “You know. Tuesday.”

Jessica’s gaze flicked toward the hologram of Peter. “You're letting us go?”

“I’m not your warden.” Peter replied. “I’m just the man who didn’t want to watch everything burn. Also, you guys are practically worthless.”

She studied him for a long moment. Then gave a single, small nod. “Thank you.” She said.

“Take care of your kid.” Peter answered. “That’s your universe’s future. For one's family is their universe.”

Her lips twitched. “Already planning on it.”

The spiders began to move toward the portal, their suits once more part of them, their watches secured, Regen vials tucked away.

Max was the last to speak before crossing the threshold.

“Peter,” he said, turning back to the holo. “If… if we fix this. If we get the dimensional energy back where it belongs. If we stabilize what the Spot rattled…”

Peter tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Will we see you again?” Max asked. “On better terms?”

Peter considered the question.

“Maybe.” He said at last. “If the multiverse doesn’t need me to yell at you again first.”

Max huffed a quiet laugh and smiled

Small but real.

“We’ll try to make sure it doesn’t come to that.” He said.

One by one, they stepped through the portal.

Max Borne.

May Reilly.

Charlotte Webber.

Ezekiel Sims.

Patrick O’Hara & Widow.

Flash Thompson.

Spider-Knight.

Spider-Man Armor MK III.

Ben Reilly.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Plushie.

Cyborg Spider-Woman.

Spider-Cat.

Pter Ptarker.

Spidercide.

Tarantula.

And Jessica Drew, rolling forward in her chair, flanked by two Spartans who stopped at the threshold and watched her go.

The portal closed behind them with a soft whump.

The room was empty again.

Only the echo of Peter’s hologram lingered, flickering once before he raised his gaze toward the ceiling.

“Good luck.” He murmured. “Try not to break anything else.”

Then the projection vanished.

A society of spider-people stepped back into a multiverse in need of repair. Carrying new scars, new tools and a new understanding.

They realized that they were not the only ones holding the web together.