The following story takes place on Earth-2464.
I recommend reading the story titled Timeline of Earth-2464 before reading this one. At least from 1992 to 2018, anyway.
It was just an average, ordinary afternoon in New York City.
'Ordinary' and 'average' being relative terms here. Ordinary for Spider-Man meant fighting costumed, super-powered villains more often than not. Ordinary for Peter Parker meant actually putting some time in at the lab for a change. Today's brand of ordinary came in the form of Mysterio turning an old theater into his personal 'House of Illusion'. After enduring the crucible of harrowing hallucinations and grim figments, Spider-Man had incapacitated and captured the old fishbowl-wearing illusionist. Quentin Beck had been a nuisance for quite some time now. He was one of the first villains to appear when Peter first donned the red-and-blues and began cleaning up the crime that infested New York. There was always a certain novelty to Mysterio's antics. He wanted to create the grandest of illusions, but at the same time he also wanted to rob banks to keep funding his endeavors. Spider-Man couldn't abide by that.
Their fight had been ongoing for slightly over a decade now. He was bringing in the new year by arresting Mysterio and, hopefully, keeping him locked up for more than a few months this time. Mysterio never actually harmed or murdered anyone, and it was hard to make any charges stick for too long. The money was always returned and he did always face jail time, but before long Beck was always back out on the streets. Maybe this year would be different, and maybe he was naive to think so. Mysterio's House of Illusion had permanently scarred the people who'd entered, tearing at their minds and driving them mad. That had to be enough to keep him locked up for at least a year or two.
"When I am free of these shackles, Mysterio shall come for you!" Beck bellowed, still wearing his helmet which had been fractured down the center. One of his brown eyes and part of his bloodied face were the only visible features of the man's face.
"Shackles, really? And again with the whole referring yourself in the third person, unrionically." Spider-Man asked. "I know you've got a thing for theatrics, but this isn't a movie, Beck. You're going to be locked away for a long, long time. And if the day comes that you do actually get back out, I'd be more than happy to clean that fishbowl of a helmet for you again. I mean seriously, those things get grimy if you don't maintain them properly. I'd hate to see what a Quentin Beck run aquarium would look like."
Before Beck had a chance to respond or blurt some more angry rebukes, the door to the NYPD police cruiser slammed shut. Spider-Man was perched atop an adjacent police van. Though no one could see it, he wore a smirk beneath his mask. As far as he was concerned, this had been a productive day; and it was always fun to see Beck get his just desserts. He gave the officer below a two-finger salute, then extended his arm upward. He double-tapped on his web-shooter and a streak of silky webbing shot towards the nearest roof corner. Spider-Man wrapped the web around his hand and yanked himself up off the van. Now airborne, he used his weight to swing forward and shoot out another web-line. He repeated this process consistently, swinging through the city at an incredibly fast pace.
It never got old.
That exhilarating feeling of soaring through the city, the wind against his body as he leapt from web to web. When he was up there, swinging around like that, it was easy to forget about the world for a second. His problems seemed to wash away, if only for a moment. The weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders, and he himself was nearly weightless as he zipped through the air lighter than a feather. It was a fleeting feeling that seldom lasted very long. Almost as if on cue, his phone began to ring. Spider-Man let go of his web-line and clung to the closest wall, landing against the glass with a thud. He tapped at the earpiece in his mask with his index and middle fingers and answered the call.
"Parker," a familiar voice said, "Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago."
"Oh man… I'm sorry, Dr. O. I forgot all about it. I thought we were working on the neural interface tomorrow, not today." He replied.
"I'll let it slide this time, but you really must stop being so forgetful. It's unbecoming of a man of your stature. I know you're capable of far greater than this." Dr. Olene Octavius said, her voice flat and serious.
"Yeah, I know… I know… it won't happen again. I'll be there bright and early tomorrow morning, I promise." Peter assured her.
"I'd surely hope so. I'll see you tomorrow then, Parker." Olene said, hanging up shortly after.
"Damn it." Peter groaned, leaning his head back against the wall and releasing a sigh. "How could I forget about that, and when we're so close to a breakthrough? I'm surprised she hasn't fired me yet."
Then, without missing a beat, his phone started to ring again. He checked the caller I.D., and this time it made his heart pound a bit faster. She was just the person he wanted to see after such a long day. He tapped at his mask again and answered her call.
"Hey, Kitty." Peter greeted.
"Hey, Petey." She replied. "We still on for tonight? I was thinking we could go to that little place in Gramercy. The one that serves that amazing Italian food."
"Oh, yeah! I remember that place. Marco's Place, right?"
"Yes! The wine there is to die for—" Kitty began to say before an explosion cut her short.
"Kitty!? Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah. We're just doing some X-Men stuff right now. No biggie." She reassured.
"No biggie? Are you fighting the Brotherhood right now?" Peter asked.
"Yeah."
"And that's 'no biggie'?"
"Yeah. Jean pretty much has it covered. Scott and Logan are helping her out. I mean, when aren't they, right? Wish she'd just pick one already. Anyway, how's eight o'clock sound?" Kitty asked.
"Yeah, eight sounds good." Peter replied.
"Okay, great! See you then, Lovebug." She said.
The call ended and a smile formed beneath his mask. Kitty Pryde, the woman who'd had his heart since high school. The memory of their first meeting at Charles Xavier's school was always fresh in his mind, but not quite as crystalline as the memory of their first kiss on the Manhattan Bridge. That seemed so many years ago now. Since then, theyʼd been through so much. Theyʼd attended the same college, fought through waves of bad guys in between classes, and now they finally had an apartment together. He sometimes still wondered how he'd gotten so lucky, but he didn't dwell on it too much. The Parker luck never usually granted any exceptions, but it had for her. Given that they both had their superhero obligations, he never had to worry about hiding his other life from her or scrambling to create a cover up when he ran late or missed their dates. Tonight wouldn't be like that, though. Tonight, he was going to take her out and have a great time. It was the new year, after all. A time for change, a time to make one's future better than it was before. Yeah, this year was going to be different.
Spider-Man pushed off the glass and began to swing again. He charted a course for his and Kitty's apartment, the GPS in his mask's heads-up display showing him where he needed to go. It made navigation a breeze, and he wondered how he'd ever gotten by without it.
Suddenly, his spider-sense flared.
Maybe this year wasn't going to be so different after all.
Before he had a chance to react, something collided with his torso and began dragging him through the air. If it weren't for the extra padding on his current suit, the impact might have fractured a few bones. He couldn't tell who or what had hit him, or where he was being taken. His vision was too fuzzy to see much of anything. All he knew was their velocity was insane and they almost definitely wanted him dead. When the disorientation finally faded, Spider-Man saw who his attacker was: The Vulture.
"Oh—hey there, Adrian!" Spider-Man grunted, trying to shift out of Vulture's mechanically-enhanced grip. "Look, I told you—before—this type of aggression just isn't gonna fly! Get it? It isn't gonna fly!"
"Enough babbling, Spider-Man! I've such plans for you toni—" Toomes started to say, his words cut short by a blast of webbing that gunked up his visor.
"You're right," he said, placing a kick against Vulture's torso and freeing himself. "Enough is enough."
Spider-Man zipped on a web-line to the nearest rooftop, landing with a roll and readying himself for Vulture's next attack. His spider-sense flared again, though this time he was able to evade the energy blast that came tearing in his direction.
"Shit! Stop being so squirrley, will ya?" A disgruntled Shocker asked.
"Herman, you're with Vulture? I thought you left the city, distanced yourself from all the crime. I was actually happy for you, man! This is such a letdown." Spider-Man said, balling his hands into two fists.
"It's Shocker, web-for-brains; and plans changed. I ain't about to just cut and run for good, especially not when an even bigger opportunity presents itself."
The already overcrowded rooftop gained another occupant in the form of a massive, mechanical suit-wearing Russian. The sound of his loud, crashing footsteps were unmistakable. It was Aleksei Sytsevich, the Rhino.
"Rhino too?! What, is the Sinister Six having a reunion tour? Where's Hobgoblin, Sandman and Electro? The 'Threatening Three' just doesn't have the same ring to it." Spider-Man joked, to which Rhino roared in anger.
"I am already sick of your jokes, puny Spider!" Rhino yelled. "Aleksei will crush you and parade your body through the streets!"
"That's… really morbid, Rhino. You got something you wanna talk about? Some pent-up feelings you'd like to—whoa!" Spider-Man said, then jumped out of the way of Rhino's charge.
The entire ground beneath their feet shook with each step Rhino would take. The concrete which the roof was composed of started to crack, and Spider-Man began to worry that it might not hold under Sytsevich's weight. He had to get Rhino off the roof, but how? When the loud hum of Shocker's gauntlets charging up filled the air, he got an idea. Spider-Man twisted around to face Rhino and shot a line of webbing at his horn, yanking it just enough to jerk his head around. When Rhino was enraged and started to charge, he turned back around to face Shocker.
"Hey, Herman! Think you can hit a moving target?" Spider-Man asked.
"For you? A'course I can. I'll splatter you all over the walls, Spider!" Shocker blurted back.
A blast shot forth from Shocker's gauntlet. Spider-Man dropped to a crouch then boosted off the ground and jumped high into the air. The blast was sent directly into Rhino's face, which immediately disoriented him upon contact. Spider-Man took this opportunity to flip backwards in the air and land on Rhino's shoulders. He shot a web-line at Rhino's right arm, then his left arm, and used them as makeshift reins. Spider-Man pulled the webbed ropes back hard and Rhino ran forward again, unsure of where he was going.
"Rhino, hey! Rhino! Stop it, man! Stop, stop, STOP!" Schultz screamed, then, once he realized his pleas were in vain, braced himself for impact.
Rhino and Shocker fell from the rooftop while Spider-Man leapt from Rhino's back. He rapidly tapped at his web-shooters and created a large net for the two to fall inside of. Shocker was still beneath Rhino when they landed, and as Rhino's weight caused them to sink deeper into the net it began to form a cocoon of sorts. It wasn't long before the pair were nestled cozily beside one another, hanging above the streets for the citizens to gawk at before the authorities came.
Another flare from his spider-sense alerted Spider-Man of incoming danger. He hadn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind that it was Vulture again. He twisted in mid-air and shot some web at the winged old codger. Vulture swerved out of the way, but the web-line was still connected to his leg. This gave Spider-Man the opportunity to strike. He reeled the web in and clung to Vulture's back. Wasting no time, he began shooting webs into the exhaust ports on his mechanical wings and gummed up its interior workings.
"Adrian, you really should get back to the nursing home! I heard it's bingo night, and it'd be a shame if you missed out on that." Spider-Man quipped, grabbing one of Toomes's wings and correcting their descent so they would land on a nearby rooftop.
"I've grown tired of your—oof!" Toomes started to say, followed by a loud grunt when they landed on the rooftop.
"What's this all about, Adrian? Start talking. Unless your dentures fell out, in which case… maybe you can spare me from the literal sight of your flapping gums." Spider-Man said, standing up from the incapacitated Vulture.
"You… you're a fool, Spider-Man. I always knew you were, but you've really shown me just how easy to manipulate you are today." Adrian said in between coughs.
"What are you talking about?"
"This was never about attacking you. This was a distraction."
"Distraction? From what?"
"Look." Adrian said and raised a hand to point in the direction of the Empire State Building.
In a flash, a burst of white energy filled the air. It spread and spread and spread until it engulfed New York in its entirety. Every light in the city went dark. Helicopters fell from the sky as their bewildered pilots struggled to fly in the chaos. They were too far from Spider-Man's reach, and he was helpless to do anything other than watch it occur. Even his own mask's heads-up display began to go on the fritz, but managed to fix itself a few moments later. Explosions rang out all across the city, screams and shouts echoed through the air. The sun was setting and night would soon fall, and New York would be met with nothing more than pitch darkness.
And Spider-Man couldn't stop it.
"Oh my god."
