Chapter One
There he went, swinging past skyscrapers, a streak of red and blue. Our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Even as he goes by, you could always tell that he was smiling underneath that mask of his. He doesn't have any higher purpose, an organisation giving him orders, or even a team to speak of. No, in a way he's on his own, truly free with his gifts, but what does he do with them? Saves the poor and abused, protects the innocent. He helps people, without glory or the promise of reward. All that freedom, all that power, and he still protects people for no other reason than "it's the right thing to do."
The Daily Bugle would have had you believe he's a menace, a vigilante without any regard for the law. The NYPD has a more mixed opinion, some officers praising him, while others condemn his actions. Norman Osborn of Oscorp even gave a public statement on the Spider-Man, stating "The real question we need to ask ourselves is how we allowed our society to grow so cancerous that men like Spider-Man need to be who we look up to. How did the people of New York allow this great city to get so crime ridden that a costumed freak becomes our city's hero?"
Everyone in the city has a different story to Spider-Man. Some saw him as a savior, others a criminal in his own right. Some wanted him behind bars, while others believed he's doing the right thing. At the end of the day though, there's a question the people of New York need to ask themselves: What would your life be like without Spider-Man? Could you even imagine a world without the web shooting hero? In just two years of being here, the Spider-Man has become as much a landmark of New York as the Statue of Liberty, so is it even possible for you to go back to what your lives were like without him? Could you actually stand to lose such an icon?
If you answered yes then I appreciate your honesty for what it is worth. There are not many in this city that would share your sentiment it would seem. When surveyed, I found that over 86% of middle to lower class Americans living within Queens could not, at present, imagine a world without the Spider-Man. He's influenced their lives so heavily that some have even made major life choices because of the hope he's inspired. I met with recovered addicts, reformed criminals, and even an anonymous former villain of Spider-Man's looking to atone for his actions by helping rebuild sections of New York that were destroyed in his most previous attack.
It's looks easy to say that without Spider-Man, New York will be a very different place. He's always been a symbol of the what anyone can do to change the world, that even one person can make such a massive difference. There will never again be a hero quite like him. The people of New York will never forget your sacrifice. We miss you Spider-Man.
-Ben Urich, Journalist
Ben Urich Article 312 taken from American Records and Document dating back to May of 2018, One Month after the Temporal Crisis.
Two men hung over the holographic projection of the document, its blue glow casting the only light in the room. They spoke to one another, their voices hushed.
"You know what this means don't you?"
"Of course."
"Then you know what needs to be done?"
"The council would never-"
"The council doesn't understand the ramifications. Even now their failed Empire beats down on our doors. We need to act."
"If we do this, there's no going back. Are you sure about this?" Sirens sped past the building, followed closely by a thundering explosion that shook dust from the ceiling.
"Just look outside if you are uncertain of our crusade." The first man walked to a nearby window, cracked from years of abuse and worn from time. "This is our alternative." With a wave of his hand, the first man brought attention to a scene the second man was more than familiar with.
Outside was nothing but metal and chaos. Fires bellowed from pores in the streets, ragged civilians clutching their children as they fled from the metal men chasing them. Large vessels from the skies bombarded derelict buildings with plasma cannons from above, weeding out the pathetic opposition. Foolhardy resistance fighters in the streets tickled the hides of these goliaths with stolen weaponry, only to be silenced by the steel drones amidst their chase of the scurrying masses.
"Do really want to wait for the council's permission? The same council who authorized these forces to begin with?"
"I...No, you're need this done immediately. I just don't understand why you can't come with me. You know the time period better than I do. It's where you were from, wasn't it?" The first man pulled out a small device from his cloak, attaching several smaller pieces to it as the fires raged outside.
"You know why, son. The radiation this device emits would...I might…"
"I know Dad. I just thought that maybe you'd have found a way to-"
"There wasn't time. It could only work on one person anyway." The father prepared the device on the floor, hooking spare cables up to the holographic panel of Ben Urich's article.
"When you get there, look for a man named Reed Richards. He'll understand everything."
"You're sure?" The son stood on the platform his father had constructed.
"He always did. Trust me, when you explain everything to him, it'll probably make perfect sense to him alone." The blasts started to get closer.
"An what about you? Should I-"
"Don't look for me, please."
"But-"
"Trust me when I tell you I was a very different man back then. Just trust me, alright. Now are you ready?" The son took a deep breath.
"Yes dad." His father prepared the device, now only a single switch to activate the chronometer.
"This might be a one way trip, so I just wanted to tell you-"
"Dad, I'm going to come back. You said it yourself, that time was full of some of the greatest geniuses of all time. I'm sure there'll be a way to send me back." The building shook again, the electric whirring of the machines now audible from just outside the walls.
"I just want you to know how much I love you." Tears welled in his father's eyes, a sentiment his son shared.
"I love you to Dad."
"Anthony Amadeus Banner, whatever happens I'm proud of you." His father flipped the switch and the machine began to circle energy around Anthony. The process was not immediate, but required him to remain absolutely still. As it began working, the wall in front of him exploded inward, debris landing just short of the device.
"I'll take care of them, don't move!" His father approached the androids, removing his glasses. Drones made of various metals approached, their faces that of nightmarish skulls frozen in anger.
"Resistance will not be tolerated," the machines declared in a monotone voice.
"Yeah, I'll do more than just resist." Steven watched as his father's body grew four times its normal size, his skin turning a deep green. The androids began to fire, but their weapons had no visible effected as they pelted into the radioactive last thing Anthony heard was his father's final monstrous declaration.
"Hulk! Smash!"
With that Anthony was swallowed into a void, every one of his cells vibrating faster than light. He could feel all of it, every second making his whole body burn white hot. He felt like his body would tear under the sudden stress and pressure of the travel, until just like that it all stopped.
All of his senses were bombarded at once, a flash over his eyes while white noise filled his ears. His vision recovered first, taking in his surroundings. A small office room, awards and framed stories of note lining the walls. To his side was a terrified bald man with glasses sitting in a swivel chair. Papers settled from their flight, that the travel must've caused. His ears filled out the excess noise after only a moment.
"-was that?"It was the bald man asking him something.
"What?"
"What the hell was that? What-I-Uh-What just happened here?" Catching one of the flying paper, Anthony read the name of the journalist who'd written the piece.
"Ben Urich? You're Ben Urich?"
"Yeah, who the hell are you?
"It's a long story, but first things first: What day is it?"
"Uh-why-I- Okay sure. September. Third."
"Year?"
"Twenty Seventeen."
"Good. There's still time." The reporter started to stand from his chair.
"Time for..?
"To prevent the death of Spider-Man."