CHAPTER 7: Still A Kid
The snowy exterior of the Sanctum Sanctorum served as a stark canvas for the unfolding drama. As I approached, the grandiose doors swung open, revealing a wintry spectacle within.
Inside, two diligent Apprentices battled the snow's relentless invasion, their futile efforts reflected in the accumulation around them. I stepped into the snowy foyer, the crunching sound beneath my feet matching the palpable tension in the air.
"Um. Hi," I addressed the Apprentices, who halted their shoveling at my arrival. "Hi? I'm, uh-"
Wong, the man of the hour, emerged from a portal, dragging suitcases behind him. His deadpan welcome highlighted the surreal nature of the moment. "The most famous person in the world, I know."
The banter continued as Wong explained the unexpected snowfall, a consequence of a gateway connecting to Siberia. Dr. Strange, donned in a parka, descended the stairway, armed with a mug of hot cocoa and a pointed remark about the neglected monthly maintenance spell.
The dynamic between Wong and Dr. Strange unfolded, revealing a peculiar hierarchy of duties and responsibilities. I, caught in the middle, attempted to broach the purpose of my visit.
"Wait, I thought you were the Sorcerer Supreme-" I began, only to learn that the title had shifted due to the technicality of Dr. Strange's blip during the five-year hiatus.
The exchange continued, punctuated by Wong's deadpan humor and Dr. Strange's defensive stance. As the banter evolved into a discussion about higher duties and potential arson, the atmosphere teetered between humor and tension.
Caught in the midst of this cosmic spat, I gathered the courage to present my plea to Dr. Strange. The revelation of my shattered life post-Mysterio hung in the air, an earnest request for a cosmic do-over.
Dr. Strange, no stranger to tampering with spacetime, offered a stark reminder of the consequences of such endeavors. The weight of the universe-saving partnership momentarily eclipsed by the personal turmoil I sought to rectify.
The conversation shifted to the collateral damage, the lives disrupted by the knowledge of my alter ego. Aunt May, Happy, MJ, and Ned—innocent bystanders caught in the web of my superhero existence.
A glimmer of hope emerged in the form of the Runes of Kof-Kol, a spell of forgetting that could erase Spider-Man from the collective memory. Wong, the voice of reason, vehemently opposed the risky endeavor, leaving the decision hanging in the balance.
Wong's exit through a portal marked the beginning of a risky endeavor as Dr. Strange, ever the risk-taker, contemplated the potential solution. The scene transitioned to an ancient chamber, cryptic and foreboding, where the delicate balance of reality and memory would be put to the test.
In this sub-level sanctuary, the intricate preparations for the spell unfolded. The gravity of the situation sank in as Dr. Strange prepared to cast a spell that would rewrite history, or at least erase a chapter of it.
The ritual commenced with a golden ring of runes, encircling us in a cosmic embrace. Panic set in as the reality of the impending collective amnesia became clear—everyone would forget Peter Parker, the Spider-Man.
Anxiety mounted, and questions spilled out. Would MJ still be my girlfriend? Would Ned remember our friendship? Dr. Strange, attempting to recalibrate the spell, found himself caught in the chaos of my desperate pleas.
The spell's erratic shifts manifested in a burst of energy, shaking the very foundations of the chamber. The crypt walls crumbled, revealing the dark borders between known and unknown reality. Shadows danced, and an unsettling force threatened to spiral out of control.
As the struggle intensified, Strange fought to contain the unleashed power, realizing the catastrophic potential of my incessant interference. The room transformed into a battlefield of mystic energies, and the fate of the spell hung in the balance.
The jumbled spell billowed in sinister rings around them, an ominous dance of mystical chaos that sent shivers down their spines. The room shattered and shook, a testament to the cataclysm unfolding before them. Something was clearly, horribly wrong.
Amidst the tumult, Peter's voice barely rose above the cacophony, desperately trying to make sense of the chaos.
"Basically, everyone that knew that I was Spider-Man before should still know!"
The room was bathed in flashing lights and filled with deafening noise. Strange grappled with the spell as it unleashed its destructive force, tearing apart the crypt walls. Unusual shadows danced on the periphery of their vision, adding to the surreal nightmare.
With a herculean effort, Strange sought to shrink the spell smaller and smaller, until...
Peter and Strange dropped to the ground, the walls around them reassembled and whole. A moment of uneasy silence hung in the air like a heavy curtain.
Peter's gaze shifted towards the spell, now a ball of light trapped inside a pentagon-shaped orb.
"Did it work?" Peter inquired, uncertainty etching his voice.
"No. You changed my spell six times-" Strange's frustration seeped through his words.
"Five times." Peter offered a meek correction.
"You changed my spell! You don't do that! I told you-" Strange's rebuke echoed in the chamber.
And there it was, the now-tiny spell jostling within the orb.
"And that is why!" Strange's frustration echoed.
They both regarded the confined spell, a potent force now under control.
"That spell was completely out of control. If I hadn't shut it down, something catastrophic could have happened!" Strange emphasized, the gravity of the situation lingering.
"Stephen, listen, I am so sorry-" Peter began his apology.
"Call me sir." Strange's demand landed with weight.
A beat passed, with Peter obediently acknowledging, "Sorry, sir."
"You know, after everything we've been through together, somehow I always forget you're... you're just a kid." Strange's softened tone hinted at an understanding.
The words weighed heavily on Peter, leaving him feeling lower than low. Strange, sensing the impact of his words, softened further.
"Look, Parker, the problem is not Mysterio. It's you. Trying to live two different lives, and the longer you do that, the more dangerous it becomes. Believe me." Strange's advice carried the weight of experience.
And then a revelation, "I'm so sorry about you and your friends not getting into college. But if they rejected you, and you tried to convince them to reconsider, there's nothing else you can do."
A moment of reflection followed, and Peter asked tentatively, "When you say 'convince them,' you mean like I could have called them?"
"Yeah." Strange's response held a touch of incredulity.
"I can do that?" Peter's surprise was palpable.
"You haven't called them-" Strange's unfinished sentence hung in the air.
"Well, I mean, I got their letter and I assumed that that was-" Peter's explanation faltered.
"I'm sorry, are you telling me that you didn't even think to plead your case with them first before you asked me to brainwash the entire world?!" Strange's incredulity was evident.
"Well, I mean, when you put it like that…"