Marvel: Viral

by abcd12344321

During a fatal accident involving a runaway vehicle containing viral cargo, Peter Parker meets his end. Only to wake up in the morgue hours later with hardly any memory of his life, and a few new, abilities. The question everyone is asking is, is this really Peter, or is it the virus that consumed his body and mind, 'Apex?

11. Chapter 11

Marvel: Viral

Chapter 11: Anomaly-1, Anomaly-2, and Anamoly-3?

…

The soft morning light spilled through the curtains of Peter's apartment, casting a warm glow across the room. Rachel Summers stirred beneath the blanket, her hair a mess of red waves sprawled across the pillow. She blinked awake to the sound of a knock at the door and couldn't help but giggle when Peter groaned theatrically, sitting up from the bed.

"Morning already?" Peter mumbled, though his voice carried no real annoyance.

Rachel giggled again, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her body as she watched him rise. His viral strands shifted seamlessly across his skin, morphing into the familiar black and red outfit that he always seemed to wear. She shook her head with a soft smile. "You really don't have to worry about laundry, do you?"

Peter smirked, glancing over his shoulder. "Perks of being an unstoppable viral hive-mind, I guess." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Rachel flushed, her giggle bubbling up again as she swatted at him playfully. "Go get the door before they break it down."

Peter straightened, running a hand through his hair as he walked toward the door. Another knock echoed, firmer this time, as he unlocked it and pulled it open.

Standing on the other side were Gwen Stacy and Jean Grey, both dressed casually but with expressions of mild concern.

"Peter," Gwen started, her hands on her hips, "is everything alright? Rachel didn't come back to her apartment last nigh-?"

Her voice trailed off, and Jean's jaw dropped slightly as their eyes wandered past Peter and into the apartment.

Rachel, still wrapped in the blanket, was sitting up in the bed with a faint blush dusting her cheeks. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and her eyes sparkled with amusement as she caught the expressions on their faces. She tucked the blanket more snugly around herself, but her grin gave her away.

"Morning," Rachel said brightly, unable to suppress the wild giggle that escaped her.

Jean blinked, her telepathic composure cracking as she glanced between Peter and Rachel. "Oh… oh."

Gwen's eyebrows shot up, and a smirk slowly spread across her face. "Well, I guess that answers our question."

Peter turned to glance back at Rachel, his expression a mix of sheepishness and amusement. "Really?" he said to her. "You couldn't just let me handle this?"

Rachel shrugged, her blush deepening as she laughed. "What can I say? They're your friends as much as mine?"

Jean pinched the bridge of her nose, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her attempt at being serious. "We were just… checking in. Didn't realize we'd be walking in on—" She gestured vaguely toward the scene.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "On what, exactly?" she teased.

"On this," Gwen said, gesturing just as vaguely as Jean, though she was far less concerned with diplomacy. She crossed her arms, looking at Peter with mock disapproval. "And here I thought you were all work and no play."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I have my moments."

Jean sighed, finally giving in and letting herself smile fully. "Well, I'm glad you're alright, Rachel. And Peter…" She paused, giving him a pointed look. "…try not to forget there's a whole world out there waiting to throw something at you."

Rachel waved her off with a playful grin. "We've got that covered, don't worry."

Gwen snickered. "Oh, I bet you do." She gave Peter a wink before turning to Jean. "Alright, we've seen enough. Let's give them some privacy before Rachel burns us alive with a look."

Jean nodded, though the amusement in her eyes lingered as she followed Gwen back into the hallway. "We'll talk later, Rachel. You too, Peter."

Peter closed the door behind them, shaking his head as he turned back to the bed. Rachel was still laughing softly, her cheeks pink from the teasing.

"You really let them see you like that?" Peter asked, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Rachel shrugged, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm comfortable here."

Peter walked back over to the bed, sitting on the edge as he took her hand in his. "Good," he said softly, his smile returning. "I'm glad."

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his as their laughter faded into a quiet, shared moment. Whatever chaos the day might bring, for now, they were exactly where they wanted to be.

…

The X-Men were, predictably, the first to react, and their responses were varied. Jean Grey, Rachel's mother, was initially caught between protective concern and cautious optimism. She trusted Rachel's ability to make her own decisions but couldn't deny the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Peter, or rather, Apex, was no ordinary person, and the viral entity that now defined his existence was a wild card.

"Just… be careful," Jean had said when Rachel told her. "I trust you, but he's… complicated."

Logan had been less diplomatic. "If he hurts you," he growled, "I don't care how many viral tendrils he's got, I'll find a way to rip him apart." Rachel had rolled her eyes, knowing it was Logan's way of expressing his concern, but the balance between seriousness and playfulness lingered there whenever he looked at Peter.

Storm, on the other hand, offered her quiet support. "If you're happy, Rachel, then that's all that matters. But if you need us… we'll be there."

Among the Avengers, Tony Stark was the first to chime in, unsurprisingly with sarcasm. "So, let me get this straight. Spider-Man, but not really Spider-Man, is dating Rachel Summers, who's, what, the future daughter of Jean Grey? Makes perfect sense. I'll send a toaster for the housewarming."

Steve Rogers, ever the voice of reason, approached the news with cautious acceptance. "If they trust each other, that's what matters. Relationships like this are never easy, but they deserve the chance to find their own path."

Thor found the pairing intriguing. "A union of great power and great fire!" he declared with a booming laugh. "It shall be most interesting to see how their fates intertwine."

On the streets and in the wider superhero community, whispers spread quickly. Peter, formerly known as Spider-Man, had already become a controversial figure as Apex, and now his relationship with Rachel Summers brought even more attention.

Many were skeptical, questioning how someone with the power of a viral hive-mind could maintain a healthy relationship. Others were more supportive, seeing their union as how even the most complex individuals could find love and connection.

…

Later that morning Racheal was standing in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepared breakfast. Peter was already up and taking care of some errands, and the apartment was filled with the faint scent of coffee and toast.

Rachel was chopping vegetables when the knife slipped. She felt the blade graze her palm, but there was no pain, no sharp sting. She glanced down and froze. The cut was already sealing itself, tendrils of orange and black writhing faintly around the wound before vanishing beneath her skin.

Jean, who had been sitting at the table, sipping her coffee, saw it happen. Her mug stopped halfway to her lips, her expression instantly shifting to one of shock.

"Rachel…?"

Rachel looked at her mother, her eyes wide. "I… I didn't even feel it," she said, her voice trembling.

The two women stood there, frozen in silence, staring at Rachel's hand as if it might act again. Jean slowly set her mug down, her telepathic senses reaching out instinctively. What she felt made her breath hitch—a faint echo of something other, something alive and yet deeply connected to Rachel.

Rachel's voice broke the silence. "Mom… what's happening to me?"

Jean took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. "It's the virus," she said softly. "It's… tailored to you."

Rachel blinked, processing the words. "Tailored?"

Jean nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "Peter's virus—it must have passed to you. But it's different. It's adapting to your body, your DNA, your mind. That's why it… feels like you."

Rachel looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers as if testing them. "I didn't even feel the cut," she repeated, her voice distant. "It's like… it was never there."

Jean stood, moving cautiously toward her daughter. "Rachel, listen to me. We'll figure this out. You're strong, stronger than anyone I know. But we need to tell Peter. He needs to know."

Rachel nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on her hand. "Yeah… yeah, okay. But, Mom… what does this mean for me and Peter?"

Jean placed a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder, her expression softening. "It means you're changing. But no matter what happens, you're still my daughter. That won't change."

Rachel let out a shaky breath, her resolve hardening as she looked toward the makeshift office space in the nearby room where Peter was taking care of some files before heading out for the day.

"Then we'll figure it out. Both of us will."

Rachel and Jean moved cautiously into Peter's private workspace. The room was sparse but organized, with a desk covered in notes, reports, and Peter's laptop. He stood by the window, a faint red glow in his eyes as he worked through whatever he'd been tasked with that morning. But as soon as they entered, Peter's head tilted slightly, his crimson gaze flickering toward Rachel.

Something in the air changed. His tendrils shifted subtly beneath his skin, and his posture stiffened. He turned to face her fully, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Rachel," he said softly, his voice calm but laced with curiosity, "something's… different."

Rachel glanced at her mother, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement, before turning her attention back to Peter. "Yeah," she began, her voice steady but unsure. "Something happened this morning. I—" She hesitated, looking at her palm again, as though the tendrils might reappear. "I think… the virus. It's in me now. But it's not like yours. It's-?"

Before she could finish, it happened.

The change overtook her body with a speed that was both alarming and fluid. Orange and black tendrils erupted across her skin, covering her entirely in a sleek, alien-like armor within seconds. Her features disappeared, her eyes, nose, mouth, even her hair, all replaced by a smooth, seamless surface of organic chitin. Her hands flexed involuntarily, her fingers elongating slightly into sharp, claw-like tips as tendrils unfurled from her back like wings made of living, writhing biomass.

Jean gasped, nearly jumping backward at the sudden transformation. Her telepathic instincts surged, but she stopped herself from reaching out to Rachel's mind, unsure of what she might encounter.

"Rachel?" Peter's voice was cautious, his tendrils instinctively shifting into a defensive stance as he took a step forward.

Rachel didn't move, but somehow, her posture radiated calm. "I'm… fine," she said, though her voice was unrecognizable. It resonated in a strange, multi-layered tone that echoed in the room as if it didn't come from her at all.

And then, she saw.

It wasn't just sight, it was everything. Every molecule, every layer of reality unfolded before her in breathtaking clarity. She could see Jean behind her without turning, her mother's body laid bare in multi-layered cross sections. Bones, muscles, nerves, arteries—they all glowed faintly in her new perception. She could feel Peter's viral tendrils humming with restrained power, the molecular density of his form rippling faintly against the air.

Rachel spoke again, her tone tinged with wonder and unease. "I can… see everything. I can hear everything." She paused, her head tilting slightly. "A dog barking… three blocks away. A car honking. The hum of electrical wires. It's all so… loud."

Peter stepped closer now, his eyes scanning her form. "You've fully bonded with it," he said, his voice soft but certain. "It's different than mine. Tailored to you."

Rachel turned toward him, though "turning" felt unnecessary, as she was already aware of him in every way imaginable. "Peter," she said slowly, "I can see you. All of you. Your bones, your muscles, your virus…" She hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "It's beautiful and terrifying all at once."

Jean took a tentative step forward. "Rachel, can you… feel yourself? Do you still feel like you?"

Rachel's head tilted slightly, the movement almost alien. "Yes. And no." She flexed her hands again, watching the orange tendrils ripple and shift like liquid fire across her arms. "I'm still me, Mom. But there's more. So much more."

Peter reached out cautiously, his hand hovering near her arm. "You're adapting quickly," he murmured. "The virus isn't fighting you. It's harmonizing. You're not just infected, you're…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Integrated."

Rachel turned toward him, and though her face was featureless, he could feel her gaze locking onto his. "I don't know what this means for me. For us. But I'm not afraid."

Peter's tendrils shifted subtly, a sign of his own nervous energy, but he nodded. "We'll figure it out," he said, "I promise."

The room settled into silence, save for the faint hum of Rachel's tendrils, which moved like a living, breathing entity as they adjusted to their host.

…

In the dimly lit briefing room of the helicarrier, Nick Fury sat at the head of a long metal table, the faint hum of the engines vibrating beneath his boots. In front of him, Agent Maria Hill slid a thin, black file folder across the table. The SHIELD insignia was embossed on the cover, but the label stamped on it in bold red letters caught Fury's eye immediately: "CLASSIFIED: APEX REPORT – SUBJECT: SUMMERS."

Fury leaned back in his chair, flipping the folder open with practiced ease. His one good eye scanned the first page, his eyebrow raising as he read. deeper with each line. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of paper as he flipped to the next page, his expression darkening.

Hill broke the silence, her voice steady but cautious. "That's the latest intel from Reed Richards. He's still analyzing the subject—Rachel Summers—but the preliminary findings…" She hesitated, glancing at Fury. "You'll see for yourself."

Fury stopped on a page containing a detailed report from Reed, accompanied by medical diagrams and viral scan data. His fingers tapped the table once before he muttered, "Summers is… pregnant?"

Hill nodded, folding her hands behind her back. "Yes, sir. And it's not just any pregnancy. The child, her son, is a hybrid born of both the Apex virus and her unique genetic structure. Reed's scans confirmed that the viral DNA was passed to her during her prolonged exposure to Parker."

Fury's jaw tightened, and he set the file down, rubbing his temple. "So, you're telling me we've got a mutant-virus hybrid baby on the way? And the mother, she's already showing signs of…" He glanced back at the file, his voice trailing off for a moment. "…full viral integration."

Hill nodded again, her tone grim but professional. "Correct. Rachel Summers has already manifested abilities identical to Parker's, though tailored to her genetic makeup. Reed believes the virus adapted specifically to her DNA, granting her complete compatibility. And her child…" She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "The child will inherit all of it. Summers' mutant abilities, Parker's viral physiology… everything."

Fury closed the folder, exhaling sharply. "This kid's not even born yet, and they're already a walking doomsday scenario."

"Or the opposite," Hill countered cautiously. "Reed theorized that the child might not be a threat. If anything, the integration between the virus and Summers' DNA has created a kind of harmony. It's possible that this hybrid will be… stable. More stable than Parker ever was."

Fury's gaze snapped to Hill, his tone sharp. "That's a hell of a gamble to make, Hill. What happens if this 'harmony' doesn't hold? We've got two living weapons already walking around, and now we're talking about bringing a third into the world?"

Hill straightened, meeting his gaze. "That's why Reed is keeping them under observation. He's working with Summers and Parker directly. But…" She hesitated again, a rare moment of uncertainty in her normally steely demeanor. "Summers and Parker seem… optimistic. She's already accepted what's happening, and Parker…"

"Parker what?" Fury pressed, narrowing his eye.

Hill allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smile. "He's excited, sir. He doesn't see the child as a weapon or a threat. He sees… his son."

Fury leaned back again, his fingers steepled in front of him as he processed the information. His mind raced through the implications, the risks, and the potential fallout. A child born of the Apex virus and Rachel Summers, a powerful mutant in her own right, wasn't just unprecedented, it was unprecedentedly dangerous.

"Richards keeping me updated?" Fury asked after a long pause.

"Daily reports," Hill confirmed.

Fury nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Good. Let's hope Richards is right. But I'll be damned if we don't have contingency plans ready, just in case this kid decides to rewrite the rules of evolution the second he takes his first breath."

Hill gave a sharp nod and left the room, leaving Fury alone with the file. He stared at the closed folder for a long moment before muttering under his breath, "A mutant-virus baby… God help us all."

…

The news hit Logan in the middle of a quiet afternoon. He was sitting in the community lounge of the apartment complex Peter had arranged for the mutants, a modest but well-kept space where people like Kurt, Pixie, and Bishop often gathered. Logan had been sharing a rare laugh with Kurt about an old story from their X-Men days when Bishop walked in, his expression unusually serious.

Logan immediately picked up on the shift in the air. His heightened senses detected the faint quickening of Bishop's pulse, a telltale sign that something important was coming. Logan leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes.

"What's got you lookin' like the end of the world's around the corner?" Logan grunted, taking a swig from his coffee cup.

Bishop hesitated, glancing around at the others before stepping closer. "Logan, there's something you need to hear. It's about Rachel."

Logan froze, his grip tightening on the cup. "What about her?" His tone was sharp but not aggressive, just concerned. The room fell silent as Pixie and Kurt exchanged uneasy glances.

Bishop sighed. "She's fine. She's… better than fine, actually. Perfectly healthy. But she's… pregnant."

The words hit Logan like a freight train, and for a moment, he just stared at Bishop. Then he blinked, setting his coffee down slowly. "Say that again?" he asked, his voice low and measured, as if making sure he hadn't misheard.

"Rachel is pregnant," Bishop repeated. "Almost a month along, by Reed Richards' estimates."

Logan's eyes felt like dinnerplates. , and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "A month?" he repeated, his voice heavy with confusion. "That's impossible. They only…" He paused, his expression flickering with both surprise and realization. "They've only been together, y'know, like that, for a day or two. And you're sayin' she's a month along?"

"That's the thing," Bishop said, sitting down across from him. "This isn't… normal. The baby isn't forming like a human child. It's…" He paused, searching for the right words. "It's staying as a mass of tendrils in her body until it's ready to fully develop. Reed estimates it'll only take a week."

"A week?" Kurt said, his tail flicking in disbelief. "Mein Gott, that's… that's not possible. Babies don't grow that fast!"

Pixie's voice was softer, tinged with both wonder and unease. "But Rachel's okay? And the baby?"

"Completely healthy," Bishop confirmed. "Rachel's showing no signs of strain or harm. According to Reed, her body has completely adapted to the process. And the baby…" He paused, his tone growing curious. "The baby is… unlike anything anyone's ever seen before. It's a hybrid, mutant and the viral DNA working together perfectly. It's stable."

Logan let out a long breath, leaning back again. His eyes narrowed as he processed the information, his mind racing. He wasn't angry, he couldn't be, but he was confused and concerned. "And the kid just… what? Turns into a regular baby when it's ready to be born?"

"That's the theory," Bishop said. "The tendrils act as a kind of protective cocoon while it develops. Once it's ready, it'll take on a fully human form, like any other child."

Logan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "This is… somethin' else," he muttered. He glanced at Kurt, who looked as stunned as he felt, and then at Pixie, who was quietly trying to process the news. "So she's fine? No complications?"

"None," Bishop assured him. "She's perfectly healthy, Logan. And so is the baby. The virus in Rachel has adapted completely to her genetic code, and it's doing the same for the baby. There's no sign of rejection or danger to her."

Logan exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright," he said gruffly. "Alright. Long as she's okay." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening. "This just… ain't what I expected to hear today."

Bishop gave him a small smile. "None of us expected this, Logan. But if anyone can handle it, it's Rachel."

Pixie spoke up, her voice tentative. "Do you think… do you think Peter knows yet?"

Logan snorted. "I'm guessin' he does. Ain't the type to miss somethin' like this." He sighed, standing up. "Guess I better check in with her. Make sure she's really doin' alright."

Kurt gave him a reassuring nod. "She's strong, Logan. And she has Peter now. They'll figure this out."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, grabbing his jacket. "But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna be there if she needs me."

As Logan left the lounge, his thoughts raced. He wasn't angry, he trusted Rachel to make her own choices, but he couldn't help feeling protective. A week. That was all the time they had before the baby would be born, and Logan didn't know what that would mean for Rachel, for Peter, or for the rest of them.

But one thing was clear: Rachel and Peter's child was going to be something entirely new. And Logan, for better or worse, would be there to make damn sure his family was safe

…

The dim, sterile light of the underground bunker illuminated the twisted visage of the Red Skull as he sat at the head of a steel table. Around him were representatives of Orchis, Hydra remnants, and other shadowy organizations that had, until now, failed spectacularly at breaching Apex's growing dominion in New York City.

A large monitor flickered to life, displaying the latest intelligence gathered from their network of spies and informants as the details were relayed: Rachel Summers. Pregnant. Viral hybrid. Apex's child. Due in a week.

Red Skull's lip curled into a sneer, though there was a glimmer of something darker in his eyes—curiosity, calculation, ambition.

"This… development," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, "changes everything."

One of the Orchis scientists, a gaunt woman with sharp glasses and a nervous energy, cleared her throat. "Sir, the hybrid child… we believe it could surpass Apex in its abilities. If it carries the traits of both Rachel Summers and Parker's viral physiology, the potential is… limitless."

Red Skull's fingers drummed against the table, his mind working at a relentless pace. He had long underestimated Peter Parker, Apex. At first, the viral anomaly seemed like an unhinged threat, more brute force than strategy. But Parker's actions over the past months had proven otherwise.

He had turned New York into a fortress, one that even Red Skull's best operatives couldn't breach. Shielded by SHIELD and local law enforcement, Apex had fortified the city in ways that made it nearly untouchable. Every assassin, mercenary, and operative sent to capture a sample of the virus had been systematically dismantled and delivered to authorities. Not only that, but Parker had turned their failures into a propaganda machine, collecting bounties, funding humanitarian projects, and winning the hearts and minds of the people.

As much as it infuriated Red Skull, he couldn't deny the brilliance of it.

"Parker is a master of optics," he admitted, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. "He understands that the hearts of the people are a shield stronger than any wall. He has turned New York into a fortress not through fear, but through loyalty. Every hospital he funds, every food kitchen, every school, it tightens his hold."

A deep voice from the corner of the room broke the silence. One of Orchis's lead strategists leaned forward, his face partially obscured in shadow. "But his child… That changes the equation. If we cannot breach his defenses, then we must change the battlefield. The hybrid could be the key. If we could acquire the child, study it-?"

"Acquire it?" Red Skull's sneer deepened, his crimson features twisting. "You speak as if this will be a simple task. Parker has already proven himself to be a step ahead at every turn. Do you think he will leave his pregnant lover unprotected?" He gestured toward the monitor. "Look at her. She is already a viral host, stronger, faster, more capable than even the most enhanced soldier. And the child within her… it is not human."

The scientist nodded nervously. "We estimate the child will be born fully integrated with the virus, its DNA a perfect fusion of mutant and Apex's biology. If we could-?"

Red Skull slammed his hand on the table, cutting her off. "If, if, if!" he barked. "All we have are 'ifs.' Months of wasted efforts and failures because Parker has anticipated every move. Do not bring me possibilities. Bring me solutions."

The room fell silent One of the Orchis operatives, a grizzled man with scars lining his face, leaned forward. "Sir, there is one possibility we haven't yet exploited. Apex's resources are finite, and his hold on the city, while formidable, is still reliant on external factors. SHIELD, law enforcement, public opinion. If we cannot target him directly, then perhaps…"

Red Skull's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

The operative hesitated but pressed on. "Perhaps we target those external factors. His reputation. His allies. The people who prop him up. If the city begins to doubt him, if the people he protects begin to question his motives-."

"You want to erode his image," Red Skull said, cutting in. "Turn his greatest strength into his greatest weakness."

The operative nodded. "Exactly. And with the news of this child… rumors, fear, distrust, they're powerful tools. A viral hybrid child born to a former mutant host of the phoenix force."

and a walking biological weapon? We don't need to lift a finger to plant the seeds of doubt. The idea alone will spread like wildfire."

Red Skull leaned back in his chair, considering the plan. It was risky but had potential. The child was beyond their reach for now, as was Rachel Summers. But sowing chaos, breaking the foundation of Apex's carefully crafted image, that was something they could achieve.

"Very well," he said, his voice a low growl. "Begin planting the narrative. Leak the information about the child. Make them fear it. Let the public begin to question the so-called 'protector' of New York."

He stood, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the table. "And continue to monitor the Summers woman. If an opportunity presents itself to capture her, or the child, you will take it. No failures this time."

The room erupted into quiet murmurs as the assembled agents and scientists began discussing the plan. Red Skull, however, remained silent, his mind already racing ahead. Peter Parker had built a fortress, but no fortress was unassailable. And now, with the birth of this hybrid looming, there was finally a crack in the armor.

A sinister smile spread across his face. "Lets see how long you can keep your child safe…"

…

Aunt May hummed softly to herself as she carefully wrote out the names on a growing list of potential guests. She sat at the dining table in Peter and Rachel's apartment, a pile of blank invitations stacked neatly to her left. Her meticulous handwriting filled each invitation with a warmth that reflected her excitement.

Across from her, Rachel Summers and Jean Grey were seated, going through another list of names. Rachel was glowing, not literally this time, but with a sense of happiness and calm that felt contagious. Despite the extraordinary circumstances surrounding her pregnancy, she seemed at peace, her hand absentmindedly resting on her abdomen as she smiled at something Jean said.

At the other end of the table, Peter was leaning over his laptop, cross-referencing names with addresses. He was fully concentrated on it and Aunt May could tell he was just as excited as Rachel. Every so often, he would glance at her and Jean, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he refocused on his work.

And then there was Spider-Gwen, who had only recently learned about the pregnancy and was still getting used to the idea. She leaned back in her chair, spinning a pen between her fingers. "So let me get this straight," she said, her tone half-playful, half-incredulous. "We're planning a baby shower for a kid who's technically a month old and is going to be born in less than a week?"

Rachel laughed, a light and easy sound. "When you put it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, it's happening," Aunt May said after a moment, looking up from her writing with a smile. "This baby deserves to be celebrated, and so do you two." She gestured at Rachel and Peter with her pen. "Besides, we've got plenty of people who'd love to be here for this."

Gwen grinned, leaning forward on the table. "Alright, let's hear it. Who's on the list so far?"

Jean held up her list. "The X-Men, of course. Logan, Kurt, Bishop, Pixie, Ororo… practically the whole family."

"And a few of the Avengers," Peter added, glancing at his screen. "Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. Tony's sending something, but he said he'll probably drop in if he can."

Aunt May smiled. "I already wrote down MJ, Felicia, and we've sent an invitation to Norman if he's feeling up to it.

They wouldn't miss this for the world."

"MJ and Felicia in the same room?" Gwen quipped. "That's going to be interesting."

Peter rolled his eyes. "They'll behave. Probably."

Jean tapped her chin thoughtfully. "What about Doctor Strange? He's been keeping tabs on the multiverse and might want to be here just in case something…" She trailed off, glancing at Rachel. "Unusual happens."

Rachel smirked. "You mean, just in case the baby sprouts tendrils and starts crawling up the walls?"

Jean didn't answer, but the slight twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

"Don't forget Wade," Gwen said suddenly. "He's going to want to crash this party whether he's invited or not, so you might as well invite him."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Deadpool? Really?"

"Oh, trust me," Gwen said with a grin. "He'll keep things… lively."

Aunt May made a note of Wade's name, shaking her head with a chuckle. "I don't know how Peter manages all these characters in his life."

Peter grinned. "It's a gift, Aunt May. Or a curse, depending on the day."

As the group continued adding names and finalizing details, the excitement in the room grew. The impending arrival of the baby, a hybrid of viral and mutant DNA, yet entirely unique, had brought them all together in a way none of them could have expected. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, there was a sense of hope and celebration that filled the apartment.

Aunt May paused for a moment, watching Peter and Rachel share a quiet smile across the table. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, about love, companionship and the journey they were on together. She felt a pang of pride and happiness for her nephew, who had been through so much and was finally finding some joy in his life.

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands together. "Let's get these invitations out by tomorrow. We've got a baby shower to throw, and it's going to be perfect."

The group laughed and nodded, diving back into their planning with renewed enthusiasm. It wasn't just about the baby, it was about the family they were building, the connections they were strengthening, and the future they were preparing to welcome.

…

The buzzing atmosphere of the Daily Bugle newsroom was louder than usual as staff members shuffled papers, worked phones, and scrambled to meet deadlines. At the center of it all, in his glass-walled office, J. Jonah Jameson sat at his desk, reviewing the latest story that had just come across his desk. His thick-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose as he scanned the headline one of his reporters had written:

"The Apex Baby: Viral Hybrid to be Born in Days-What Does This Mean for New York?"

Jameson let out a low grunt, setting the paper down. His face was as unreadable as ever, though his fingers drummed against the desk in a rhythm that hinted at his thoughts. It wasn't that he disagreed with the facts—far from it. These days, Jameson prided himself on sticking to them. His personal vendetta against Peter Parker had long since burned itself out, replaced by a grudging respect for what the man-turned-virus had accomplished in New York. But even so, this story was... big.

"Parker, you never stop surprising me," he muttered under his breath before leaning back in his chair.

A knock on the glass door made him look up. His assistant peeked in. "Mr. Jameson, there's a courier here. It's for you."

Jameson waved her in. "Well, don't just stand there, let 'em in."

The courier stepped in, holding a small but elegantly designed envelope. The moment Jameson saw it, his eyebrow raised in interest. He snatched it up and opened it with a quick rip, revealing an invitation written in carefully crafted handwriting. His eyes scanned the words, and his brows raised slightly.

"You are cordially invited to the baby shower of Rachel Summers and Peter Parker."

Jameson blinked. He looked back at the assistant. "You're telling me this is legit?"

She nodded. "It's legit. A few other Bugle staff got them too. Apparently, Parker, Apex, wanted us to feel included since, well, this story is bound to go public one way or another."

Jameson sat back, stunned. Of all the things Parker could have done, sending invitations to his old stomping ground, the Daily Bugle, of all places, wasn't something he expected. But it was smart, he had to admit. Peter Parker wasn't just thinking about himself or his growing family. He was thinking about the story, the narrative that would come from this, and how it would play in the public's eyes.

"What do we know about this baby?" Jameson asked, gesturing for one of his senior reporters to come in.

The reporter, a wiry young man who had been following Apex's story for months, stepped inside. "Well, sir, here's what we've got so far. Rachel Summers is confirmed to be about a month along, but the baby's development is... unique. Medical experts, including Reed Richards, have confirmed that the child is a viral-mutant hybrid, which explains why it's progressing so quickly. The baby is still a mass of tendrils right now but is expected to fully form and be born within a week."

Jameson rubbed his temples. "A week. A baby that takes a week to go from conception to birth. And we're not talking about a normal baby here. This kid's got mutant DNA from Summers, viral DNA from Parker, and who-knows-what else."

"That's the gist of it," the reporter said, shrugging. "But there's more. Parker's been using this as an opportunity to pull even more public support. He's not hiding it, he's leaning into it. And from what we've heard, he's invited a ton of people to the shower. Not just us. The X-Men, Avengers, SHIELD bigwigs, even a few local community leaders."

Jameson let out a low whistle. "Of course, he has. The guy's playing this like a violin. He knows damn well that the more people he gets on his side, the harder it'll be for anyone to take him, or his family, down."

The reporter hesitated. "You know, Mr. Jameson, this story could go either way. We can focus on the facts, keep it neutral, or... well, you know the kind of spin people expect from the Bugle."

Jameson gave him a hard look. "What do I always say these days?"

"Stick to the facts," the reporter said, nodding.

"Exactly," Jameson grumbled, leaning forward. "We're not the sensationalist rag we used to be, not anymore. We report the facts, and the facts are this: Parker's done more for this city in the last few months than most of us have done in our lifetimes. The guy's turned a nightmare into something... hopeful. Whether or not this baby changes that, it ain't for us to decide."

He tapped the invitation on the desk. "We'll cover the baby shower, send a team. I'll even show up myself if it'll keep Parker from thinkin' I've still got it out for him. But mark my words, we report this straight. No painting him as a menace, no fearmongering. Just the facts."

The reporter nodded. "Got it, boss."

As the newsroom bustled around him, Jameson leaned back in his chair again, staring at the invitation. He wasn't thrilled about stepping into Parker's world like this, but part of him couldn't deny the curiosity. This wasn't just a story, it was history in the making. And for once, Jameson was determined to make sure it was told right

…

Wade Wilson, a.k.a. Deadpool, was lounging on his couch in his shabby apartment, flipping through channels on the TV with one hand and shoving a half-eaten chimichanga into his mouth with the other. The place smelled faintly of gunpowder, grease, and regret, his signature scent.

"Ah, nothing good on TV these days," he muttered, tossing the remote across the room. "No reruns of Golden Girls, no classic action flicks. Just my luck. Guess I'll have to settle for-."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him. Wade froze mid-bite, his mouth full of chimichanga as he glanced toward the door suspiciously. He wasn't expecting visitors, and given his recent history, he wasn't keen on surprise guests.

Slowly, he stood up, grabbing a katana off the nearby coffee table and creeping toward the door. "If this is Apex again, I swear I'll, no, I won't. I'll probably wet myself and scream like a little girl, but still!" he muttered under his breath.

With a quick yank, he flung the door open, sword ready. But instead of Apex, or a dozen other people who might want him dead, it was a courier. A courier holding a pristine white envelope.

"Deadpool?" the courier asked, not fazed in the slightest by the katana in Wade's hand or the grease stain on his shirt.

"Uh… yeah," Wade said, lowering the blade slightly. "What's this? A cease-and-desist order? A restraining order? An invitation to my own funeral?"

The courier ignored his rambling, handing over the envelope. "Invitation. Have a nice day."

And with that, they were gone.

Wade stared at the envelope, turning it over in his hands. His first instinct was to check it for explosives, because, you know, history, but it didn't look suspicious. It was addressed to him in a fancy font, with no obvious threats written on the outside.

Carefully, he opened it, pulling out the invitation. As his eyes scanned the text, he froze. Then he read it again. And again.

"Wait, wait, wait…" he said aloud, pacing the room. "Peter Parker, Apex, is throwing a baby shower. And they invited me? Me?" His voice cracked slightly as he glanced around the empty apartment, as if someone might jump out and say, "Gotcha!"

He kept reading, though his hands trembled slightly. Chimichangas. Cake. Those words practically leapt off the page.

"Well, crap," he muttered, dropping onto the couch. "I don't know if I should be flattered or terrified."

A flood of memories hit him, unbidden. Apex. The tendrils. What he did to Sabretooth and Lady Deathstrike. And to him, too. It wasn't just the physical pain, Apex could tear someone apart and put them back together like a jigsaw puzzle, but the psychological aftermath. Wade still had nightmares about those glowing red eyes and the way Apex had looked at him, like he was nothing.

"Okay, okay, Wade," he said to himself, tapping the side of his head. "Think. You survived Apex once. Barely. And now he's inviting you to a baby shower. Which means…" He paused, considering. "He probably doesn't want to kill you. Probably."

Then his eyes drifted back to the key words on the invitation. Chimichangas. Cake.

Wade groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "Damn it, Peter. You know my weaknesses." He sat up abruptly, pointing at the invitation as if it could hear him. "But let me tell you this, Mr. Viral Hive-Mind Daddy-To-Be: if this is a trap, I'll… I'll cry. A lot. And then I'll probably eat more cake. But you'll feel really bad about it, okay?"

He sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision hanging over him. Then he shrugged, stuffing the invitation into his pocket.

"Well, I can't say no to cake. And chimichangas. And the chance to make awkward small talk with Wolverine and Jean Grey about how weird this whole thing is. Count me in!"

As he stood up, grabbing his weapons and a fresh pair of socks (because even Deadpool had standards), he muttered to himself, "One week to prepare for Apex Junior. Let's hope the kid doesn't come out swinging tendrils. Or worse, judgmental stares."

And with that, Deadpool set off, both nervous and curious about the strangest baby shower he'd ever been invited to.

…

Miles Morales was perched on a rooftop in Brooklyn, enjoying the early morning sun as it painted the city in shades of gold. His patrol had been quiet, almost too quiet, which meant he actually had time to relax for once. He leaned back, sipping from a bottle of water as his mask hung loosely around his neck.

His peace was shattered by the familiar buzz of his communicator. Pulling it out of his pocket, he tapped the screen. The voice of Spider-Gwen came through immediately, loud and filled with barely-contained excitement.

"Miles! You're not going to believe this!" she said, her words tumbling out at lightning speed.

Miles smiled, shaking his head. "Good morning to you too, Gwen. What's got you all hyped up this early?"

"You haven't heard, have you?" Gwen said, her voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Man, you've got to keep up with the news."

Miles sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued. "Okay, okay, spill. What's going on?"

There was a pause, as if Gwen was trying to figure out the best way to say it. Finally, she just blurted it out. "Rachel Summers and Peter, Apex Peter, are having a baby."

Miles blinked. "Wait, what?" He rubbed his ear, as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "Rachel Summers? As in, the future daughter of Jean Grey? That Rachel Summers?"

"Yup," Gwen said, clearly enjoying his reaction.

"And Peter," Miles continued, his tone growing more incredulous. "As in Apex Peter? The walking viral hive-mind who can turn assassins into protein shakes?"

"That's the one!" Gwen chirped.

Miles stared out over the city, trying to wrap his head around the information. "Okay, wow. That's… a lot to process."

"Oh, it gets better," Gwen said, her voice tinged with mischief. "The baby? It's not even going to take nine months. It's going to be born in a week."

Miles nearly dropped his water bottle. "A week? You're messing with me."

"Nope," Gwen said, the sound of her grin practically audible through the communicator. "Found out this morning. Rachel's already about a month along, biologically speaking. And thanks to Peter's virus, or whatever magic science he's got going on in his body, the baby's going to grow at hyperspeed. Reed Richards is keeping tabs on everything, and apparently both Rachel and the baby are perfectly healthy."

Miles leaned back against the rooftop, letting out a long breath. "Man, Peter doesn't do anything halfway, does he?"

"Nope," Gwen agreed. "But you've got to admit, it's kind of amazing. I mean, sure, it's also completely insane, but still… amazing."

Miles nodded slowly, even though Gwen couldn't see him. "Yeah. Amazing. But also… kind of terrifying. I mean, Peter's already, well, you know, Apex. And now we're talking about a kid with mutant DNA and Apex's virus? That's not just amazing, that's a whole new level of power."

"Tell me about it," Gwen said. "But hey, they seem happy about it. Rachel's doing fine, and Peter… well, you know how he is. He's already got the whole city wrapped around his finger with all the charity stuff he's been doing. Now he's going to have a kid on top of that. Talk about a busy guy."

Miles chuckled softly. "Yeah. I can't even imagine what that's like. I'm still trying to figure out how to balance school and being Spider-Man. And now Peter's out here raising a family while running half of New York."

"Hey, you'll get there," Gwen said encouragingly. "But for now, you might want to clear your schedule. They're throwing a baby shower in a couple of days, and you're invited."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "A baby shower? For a kid who's going to be born in a week?"

"Yup," Gwen said cheerfully. "Apparently, they're pulling out all the stops. Invitations are going out to just about everyone. The X-Men, the Avengers, even Wade."

"Deadpool?" Miles asked, his tone skeptical.

"Yeah, don't ask," Gwen said with a laugh. "But seriously, you should come. It's going to be… interesting."

Miles smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'll think about it. But first, I think I need to sit down and process all of this. A viral-mutant hybrid baby born in a week… man, this world just keeps getting crazier."

"Welcome to the club," Gwen said, her voice light. "See you at the gathering, Miles. Don't forget to bring a gift!"

The communicator clicked off, leaving Miles alone on the rooftop. He sat there for a long moment, staring out over the city as he tried to wrap his head around the news. A week. That was all the time they had before something entirely new came into the world, something that will be a wild ride.

"Guess I'd better pick up a teddy bear or something," he muttered to himself, a small grin forming on his face. "Man, this is going to be one wild baby shower."

…

Elsewhere in a safehouse on the outskirts of New York City. A small television flickered in the corner, displaying a breaking news segment. The air was heavy with tension as they absorbed the latest updates.

On the screen, a somber-looking reporter delivered the news:

"In what can only be described as unprecedented, reports have surfaced that Rachel Summers, the daughter of Jean Grey and a powerful mutant in her own right, is carrying the child of Apex, formerly Peter Parker. Sources close to the family have confirmed that the child, a unique hybrid of mutant and Apex's viral DNA, is expected to be born within a week, a timeline that defies all known biology. This development has sparked intense speculation about what this could mean for the mutant community, and the world at large."

The reporter continued, but the group's attention had already shifted to each other.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099, stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on the screen. His expression was grim, his mind racing through possibilities. "A viral-mutant hybrid born in a week? That's not just unusual, that's unprecedented."

Hobie Brown, Spider-Punk, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. His signature spiked mask hung loosely from his neck. "Mate, that's not just a baby. That's a walking middle finger to the laws of nature."

"Or a middle finger to us," muttered Spider-Man Noir, adjusting his hat as he leaned on his cane. His voice was low and gravelly. "If Apex is anything to go by, this kid could rewrite the rules. You've all seen what he's capable of. Now imagine that, but born into it."

Jessica Drew, the Spider-Woman of another universe, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know whether to be terrified or impressed. Rachel Summers is no slouch on her own. Combine that with Apex's viral physiology? This child could be… anything."

"Anything, yeah, like the next apex predator," Hobie quipped, though his tone was serious. "This world's already got enough trouble without a baby who can probably sprout tendrils and tear buildings apart."

Spider-Ham hopped onto a table, waving his tiny arms for attention. "Hold up, hold up! Can we all agree on one thing? This is weird, right? Like, really weird? I've seen my fair share of multiverse oddities, but viral mutant babies? That's a new one."

"Peter Parker does have a knack for taking 'complicated' to a whole new level," said Ben Reilly, the Scarlet Spider. He sat on a crate, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "But a baby? Born in a week? That's going to raise questions. A lot of questions."

Pavitr Prabhakar, Spider-Man India, spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "The timeline alone is extraordinary. From what we've gathered, the child is still a mass of viral tendrils in Rachel's body, forming itself until it's ready to be born. That's not just rapid development, that's deliberate. The virus is adapting to create something… perfect."

The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of Pavitr's words sinking in. Mayday Parker, the Spider-Girl and daughter of another Peter Parker, finally broke the silence. "But if it's deliberate, does that mean Apex knows what's happening? Does he understand what he's passing on?"

Miguel sighed, his claws flexing instinctively. "If he doesn't, he will soon. Apex isn't just dangerous because of his power, he's dangerous because of how damn smart he is. Everything he's done in New York, from fortifying the city to winning over the people, has been calculated. If this child is part of his plan…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "We need more information."

Jessica leaned against the table, her eyes narrowing. "What do we even do with this information? We're outsiders here, watching from the sidelines. If we step in, it could tip the scales. And not necessarily in a good way."

"We don't step in yet," Miguel said firmly. "Not until we know more. But we keep watching. This kid… this hybrid… it's going to change everything. Whether that's for better or worse, we don't know yet."

"Do you think it'll be like Apex?" Mayday asked quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I mean… not just powerful, but… you know."

"Let's hope not," Noir said, his voice dark. "One Apex is enough."

Pavitr spoke up again, his voice steady. "We need to consider something else, too. If this news is public, others are going to come after the child. Not just the Red Skull or Orchis, everyone. Governments, corporations, rogue factions. The child is going to be seen as a weapon, a prize."

Miguel nodded grimly. "Which means Apex is going to tighten his grip on the city even more. If New York was a fortress before, it's going to be a fortress on steroids now."

"And you can bet your mask he's not going to take kindly to interference," Hobie added. "I'd rather not get on Apex's bad side. Saw what he did to that assassin squad last month. Not pretty."

The group fell silent again, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Finally, Jessica broke the tension with a sigh. "Alright, so we wait. We watch. And we prepare for the fallout."

Miguel nodded, his gaze fixed on the flickering screen. "Because if there's one thing we can count on, it's that this baby is going to shake the multiverse to its core."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the magnitude of the situation clear in their expressions. The child of Apex and Rachel Summers wasn't just a development, it was a turning point. And whatever came next,

Miguel's fingers hovered over the console as he accessed the final report. The holographic display flickered for a moment before stabilizing, casting a faint glow over the group of Spider variants. His expression, already serious, darkened further as he took in the details.

"Here it is," Miguel muttered, his voice heavy. He gestured to the floating display, and a three-dimensional holographic image of Rachel Summers' new viral form rotated slowly in the air.

The figure was sleek and powerful, with her once-human appearance now completely transformed. The smooth, chitinous surface of her viral armor gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, black as night but streaked with glowing orange tendrils that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The tendrils extended like delicate wings, trailing behind her like living, organic ribbons. Her form was undeniably feminine but exuded a presence that was both elegant and intimidating, a perfect fusion of Rachel's fiery mutant nature and Peter's viral abilities.

Miguel's voice was grim as he read aloud from the report. "Rachel Summers has inherited all of Peter Parker's abilities. The virus that infected him was passed to her during her pregnancy, but—" He paused, his claws flexing involuntarily. "It's tailored to her. Her physiology, her genetics. It's not just a copy of Apex's abilities, it's uniquely her own."

The group stared at the image in stunned silence, each of them processing the implications in their own way.

Hobie let out a low whistle. "That's… something else. She looks like she's ready to take on an army."

Jessica crossed her arms, her sharp gaze fixed on the hologram. "It's not just the appearance. If she's inherited Peter's abilities, that means she's just as dangerous as he is. Maybe more."

"Tailored to her…" Pavitr echoed thoughtfully. "That means the virus isn't just mimicking Peter's powers, it's adapting to her mutant abilities. It's amplifying her."

Miguel nodded, his jaw tightening. "Exactly. She's not just a viral host, she's a hybrid. A mutant-virus hybrid with the potential to rival or even surpass Peter in power."

Noir adjusted his hat, his voice low and tense. "And she's carrying a child. A child with both their abilities. If Peter was already impossible to contain, what does that make Rachel? Or their kid?"

Mayday shifted uneasily, her hands clenching into fists. "It's not just about power. Rachel's a hero, she's always fought for what's right. This doesn't change who she is."

"No," Miguel agreed, his voice grim. "But it changes how others will see her. How they'll see all of them."

Spider-Ham, uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "So, let me get this straight. We've got a viral-mutant hybrid mom, a superpowered viral baby on the way, and a dad who's basically a walking, talking apocalypse. And they're all in New York, which is already a fortress because of Peter. Anyone else think this is gonna get worse before it gets better?"

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Spider-Ham's words sinking in.

Jessica pointed at the hologram. "This isn't just about them anymore. Rachel's transformation means that the virus is more than just an anomaly now, it's evolving. And if it's evolving, who's to say it stops with them?"

The Spider variants stood in tense silence as Miguel's communicator buzzed with an incoming transmission. The small device on his wrist projected a glowing interface, and a sharp, authoritative voice came through before he even answered.

"O'Hara, this is Command. Report to us immediately."

Miguel sighed, casting a quick glance at the rest of the group. "Looks like I'm on the hook again. Keep reviewing the report," he muttered, before stepping out of the room and activating the communicator.

The hologram flickered to life in front of him, displaying two imposing figures. One was an agent from S.W.O.R.D., clad in their standard uniform with the organization's logo prominently displayed. The other was a representative of the Time Variance Authority (TVA), a Time-Keeper bureaucrat with a stiff demeanor and a voice that carried the weight of authority.

"O'Hara," the S.W.O.R.D. agent began, their tone clipped, "we've received your latest update on Apex and the hybrid. We need clarification on a few… discrepancies."

Miguel folded his arms, his claws lightly tapping his bicep. "Discrepancies? Let me guess, you're talking about the fact that this entire chain of events shouldn't even exist in the first place."

"Exactly," the TVA representative snapped, their holographic form flickering slightly as they adjusted a pair of circular glasses. "We've gone over the timeline multiple times. This… viral event, Apex, Rachel Summers' transformation, the hybrid child—it's a non-canon event. By all rights, it shouldn't exist."

"And yet it does," Miguel said flatly. "Which means there's a bigger issue at play here."

The S.W.O.R.D. agent leaned forward, their expression tight. "We've already tried correcting it, O'Hara. Our teams have gone back to the moment of the accident that gave Peter Parker the virus, several times. Every single attempt to intervene has failed."

Miguel raised an eyebrow. "Failed how?"

The TVA bureaucrat cut in, their voice sharp. "Every time we attempt to alter the accident, something else goes wrong. A butterfly effect. If we stop the virus from infecting Peter, the timeline compensates in ways that are equally catastrophic. In one instance, Parker died outright, and the virus was released into the general population. In another, the Apex Virus infected Norman Osborn instead, leading to the collapse of the timeline. Every iteration leads us back to the same outcome, Parker becomes Apex."

Miguel's claws flexed involuntarily, his frustration visible. "So it's a fixed point."

The TVA representative's expression darkened. "That's the problem, it's not. Fixed points exist to preserve the natural flow of time. This event? It's an anomaly. It shouldn't exist, and yet no matter how many times we try to erase it, the timeline self-corrects in ways that make things worse."

The S.W.O.R.D. agent leaned back, their arms crossed. "To make matters worse, Apex and Rachel Summers' child adds another layer to the problem. The virus isn't just an anomaly anymore, it's evolving. It's rewriting the rules, not just for Parker and Summers, but potentially for the entire multiverse."

Miguel rubbed his temples, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. "Let me get this straight: you've tried to erase the accident. You've tried to isolate the virus. And every time, the timeline pushes back harder. Now we've got a hybrid child on the way that could be the biggest wildcard the multiverse has ever seen. Is that about right?"

The TVA representative nodded grimly. "Precisely."

Miguel exhaled sharply, his frustration boiling over. "So what do you want me to do? You're the ones with all the fancy time travel tech and multiverse oversight. If you can't fix this, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

The S.W.O.R.D. agent's voice softened slightly, though the tension remained. "We're not asking you to fix it, O'Hara. At this point, we're past containment. What we need is information. Observation. If this event is going to unfold no matter what, we need to understand it. Apex, Rachel Summers, their child, everything."

The TVA representative adjusted their glasses again. "And we need to know if the virus has the potential to spread beyond its current parameters. If it becomes a multiversal threat…"

Miguel finished the sentence for them. "Then you'll intervene. Hard."

The TVA agent nodded. "Exactly."

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'll keep you updated. But don't expect me to pull any miracles. If this thing is beyond your control, then we're all flying blind."

The S.W.O.R.D. agent gave a curt nod. "Understood. Report back as soon as you have more intel."

The hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving Miguel alone in the corridor. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where the hologram had been. The weight of their words hung heavy in the air.

"Flying blind," he muttered to himself. "Story of my damn life."

He turned and headed back to the others, his mind already racing with strategies. If the people who monitored the multiverse and the timeline couldn't make sense of this, then it was up to him, and the rest of the Spider variants, to figure out what was coming.