Peter Parker's death wasn't spectacular. It wasn't some heroic blaze of glory, no city-wide parade in his honor, and definitely no dramatic last words. One moment he was mid-swing over Manhattan, trying to stop a runaway truck loaded with explosives, and the next...nothing. Just darkness.

Then came the light.

Peter opened his eyes to find himself standing before a massive set of gates made of shimmering gold. Clouds drifted lazily below his feet, and the faint sound of harps played somewhere in the distance.

"Well," he muttered, brushing nonexistent dirt off his Spider-Man suit. "This is...unexpected."

"Parker!"

The voice startled Peter. He spun around to see a man with a clipboard, wearing a robe that shimmered like sunlight on water. His beard was magnificent—long, flowing, and weirdly immaculate, like it had its own stylist.

"You're late," the man said, tapping the clipboard with an ethereal quill.

"Late?" Peter echoed, blinking. "I just got here!"

The man sighed. "That's not the point. Come on, let's get this over with."

Peter followed hesitantly as the man led him to the base of the gates. There, another figure stood—a woman, tall and imposing, with piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into Peter's soul.

"Uh, hi," Peter said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The woman studied him for a long moment before asking, "Do you like pineapple on pizza?"

Peter froze.

"W-what?"

"You heard me," she said, crossing her arms. "Do. You. Like. Pineapple. On. Pizza?"

Peter blinked. "Is...is this a trick question?"

The robed man beside her sighed dramatically. "Just answer, Parker. It's important."

Peter held up his hands, feeling his palms start to sweat. "Wait, hold on. What about the commandments? Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal—shouldn'tthosedetermine whether I get into heaven?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "That's old news. It's the 2000s. We've updated the system. Now, your eternal fate hinges on your answer to this question."

Peter stammered, his mind racing. "I...I mean, I guess it's fine? Like, I don't order it, but if someone else does, I'll eat it—"

The woman gasped. The robed man's jaw dropped.

"You're aneutral?" the man whispered, horrified.

"Wait, wait!" Peter said, raising his hands defensively. "What's wrong with being neutral?"

The woman looked like she was about to faint. "Neutrality is the worst sin of all," she said, her voice shaking. "You have to take a side!"

Peter swallowed hard. "Okay, uh...then...yes? Pineapple's good on pizza! It's sweet and savory, and—"

"Traitor!" the robed man bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Peter.

Peter threw up his hands. "What? You literally just said I had to pick a side!"

Wade Wilson was sitting in a dimly lit room, a bucket of popcorn in his lap.

"Aw, poor Spidey," he muttered, tossing a kernel into his mouth. "Dude can face down the Sinister Six, but one existential pizza question, and he's toast."

A nearby angel—nervous and clearly overworked—approached him. "Mr. Wilson, please. You're not supposed to be watching this."

Wade spun around, pointing dramatically at the angel. "First of all,how dare you. Second of all, do you have any idea how boring the afterlife is without TV? I mean, come on! The harp music? Overrated. The clouds? Way too soft. And don't even get me started on the lack of tacos."

The angel sighed. "You're not even supposed to be here, Mr. Wilson. You don't qualify for heaven or...well, anywhere."

"Exactly!" Wade said, grinning. "So, I'm here in the loophole zone. Where I can do this." He pointed to the screen showing Peter's predicament.

The angel glanced at the screen, frowning. "That's Peter Parker. He's...actually supposed to pass through. The pizza question is just a formality."

Wade leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Oh, buddy. Have youmetPeter? He's overthinking it to death. Well, technically, he's already dead, but you get the point."

The angel rubbed his temples. "This is above my pay grade."

Peter was pacing now, his hands in his hair. "Okay, okay. Pineapple. Pizza. Pineapple on pizza. It's not a big deal, right? Right?!"

The woman at the gate tapped her foot impatiently. "Make up your mind, Parker. We don't have all eternity. Well, actually, we do, but that's not the point."

Peter froze. "Wait. If I say no, do I go to—" He gestured vaguely downward.

The robed man coughed. "Not exactly. But let's just say it's not as cozy as here."

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate this. I can't believe this is how my life ends."

"Technically," Wade's voice cut through the air, "it's how yourafterlifebegins."

Peter's head snapped up. "Wade?"

Deadpool appeared in a flash of light, wearing what looked like an angel costume made of tin foil and duct tape. "Did you miss me, Spidey?"

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation.

Wade shrugged. "Eh, I got bored. Figured I'd come help you out with your little pineapple problem."

The robed man stepped forward, frowning. "Mr. Wilson, you are not authorized to interfere."

"Oh, relax, Glenda," Wade said, waving him off. "This'll be fun."

He turned to Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, kid. You're overthinking this. Just say youlovepineapple on pizza, walk through those gates, and enjoy your eternity of free Netflix and cloud naps."

Peter frowned. "But I don'tloveit. I just think it's...okay."

Wade's eyes narrowed. "Okay, new plan. Say youhateit. Hating things is very on-brand for millennials, and the gate people might respect that."

"I'm not lying to get into heaven, Wade!" Peter snapped.

"Okay, fine." Wade leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Then tell them the truth. That you're a good person, a hero, and you've saved New York like, what, a thousand times?"

Peter hesitated. "You think that'll work?"

"Absolutely," Wade said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Peter turned back to the woman at the gate. He straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"I think pineapple on pizza is...fine," he said, his voice steady. "But more importantly, I've spent my life trying to help people. I've made mistakes, but I've always tried to do the right thing. That should count for something, right?"

The woman studied him for a long moment. Then, to Peter's surprise, she smiled.

"Congratulations," she said, stepping aside. The gates creaked open, revealing a glowing paradise beyond. "You may enter."

Peter blinked. "Wait...that's it?"

The robed man nodded. "Your answer didn't really matter. It's your heart that counts."

Peter turned to Wade, his expression a mix of confusion and gratitude. "So...I made it?"

Wade grinned. "You made it, Spidey."

Peter smiled, but before he could step through the gates, he paused. "Wait. What about you?"

Wade shrugged. "Eh, I'll catch up. Someone's gotta keep this loophole zone interesting."

Peter hesitated, then reached out, clasping Wade's hand. "Thank you, Wade."

Wade's grin softened. "Anytime, Pete. Now, go enjoy your forever."

And with that, Peter stepped through the gates, the sound of Wade's laughter fading into the light.