Aunt May kicked open the shed door like she was breaching a safe house. Inside, a spider-shaped lock glowed, then the doors parted to reveal the dead Spider-Man’s lair.
"Oh yeah," Peter B. said casually. "I have one of these too."
"A Spider-Cave," Peter clarified with his arms crossed.
"Seriously?!" Miles exclaimed. "You have one too?!"
"Yes."
"What is yours like? How big is it?"
"The exact size is irrelevant because it is constantly expanding," Peter said. "But I can tell you what it contains. Individual laboratories and one for personal use. A medical wing. A suit room where we upgrade and build equipment. A vehicle bay for aquatic, aerial, and ground vehicles.
Everything is maintained by semi-sentient robots. There are tunnels throughout New York for rapid vehicle deployment. A control room. A three-tier training facility.....physical conditioning, weapons range, and a danger room that tests every sense and strengthens psychological foundations."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"How much did all of that cost?" Gwen asked, her voice slightly strangled.
"Let us just say you have never seen so many zeros in your life."
Three spider-people and one elderly woman nearly had simultaneous heart attacks.
"The materials and funding came from criminal organizations," Peter continued before anyone could object. "Every dollar I confiscated went toward protecting the city. Those criminals have no use for their assets while they are incarcerated. And in a few years, the economic systems I have built will triple what was taken."
"How pretentious," Peter B. muttered.
--------------
The lights came on, revealing the lair’s contents. Miles and Gwen stared in wonder. Peter B. and Peter did not.
Peter swept the room with a critical eye.
’An entrance visible to anyone within a mile. Standard weights instead of gravity-based resistance systems. No integration with the primary residence. This setup is catastrophically inefficient.’
Miles examined the suit displays, reading each name and description. He slowed.....then stopped entirely at one particular case.
The Spider-Man suit.
Standing before it, Miles felt small. Insignificant. Unable to fill the shoes. Unable to bear the weight of the name.
"It is difficult," Peter said quietly from behind him. "But not impossible."
Miles made a silent, skeptical sound.
"I know how you feel. Seeing the suit for the first time, I felt the pressure of the entire world on my shoulders. It terrified me." He paused. "But then I understood something."
"What?"
"There is nothing wrong with feeling fear. As long as you do not let it defeat you."
"I am scared," Miles whispered. "Scared of not being....."
"I know. But a man without hope is a man without fear."
Miles looked at him. For a few seconds, they simply held each other’s gaze.
"Hope," Miles repeated.
"It is what we have and what we give when we wear the suit. Remember, Miles.....the best diamonds are formed under pressure."
He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "And stop trying to be something you are not. That is the path to becoming who you want to be. You have two Spider-Men in front of you, and neither is the same. Sometimes the new surpasses the old. But always remember the foundations that built the pillar."
They both looked at the suit.
"Being Spider-Man is not about succeeding," Peter said. "It is about failing and recovering. Knowing you will fail a million more times.....and still refusing to give up."
The spider-sense of everyone in the room activated simultaneously.
Aunt May smiled. "Did you think you were the only ones who thought to come here?"
Three figures emerged from the shadows.
A man in a black-and-white suit tipped his fedora. "How are you, folks?"
A girl in a futuristic mech suit with a smiling face display landed with a somersault. "Hello, guys! Konnichiwa hajimemashite yoroshiku!"
A cartoon pig in a Spider-Man costume waved. "If it can get any weirder.....I just got out of the bathroom. That’s why my hands are wet."
Peter closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. ’I am surrounded by idiots.’
Miles attempted to greet Peni in Japanese. Gwen attempted the same. Both failed spectacularly.
Peter addressed Peni in fluent Japanese, apologizing for the others’ attempts and establishing basic communication. Peni was delighted to find someone who spoke her language properly. Gwen frowned, sensing she was being discussed.
"Seriously," Peter B. sighed. "This could not get any weirder."
Peter handed Ham a handkerchief. "You are welcome."
Their spider-senses hummed in unison.
"They are like me," everyone whispered at once.
Introductions were brief. Noir was a 1933 private detective who liked milkshakes and fighting Nazis. Peni piloted a psychically linked mech from the year 3145. Ham was a newspaper photographer from an animated dimension where the laws of physics were suggestions.
All three had been pulled here by the Collider. All three were deteriorating. All three needed to go home.
"The only way back is through the Collider," Noir explained. "But someone has to stay behind to destroy it."
"I will do it!" they all said simultaneously.
"No," Miles cut in. "None of you can stay. If you stay, you will die. I am the one who has to shut it down. I made a promise."
Noir studied the boy. "Alright, buddy. Kingpin is going to send killers after you. The kind who would sell out your own mother. Can you take them all at once?"
He swept Miles’ legs without warning. Miles hit the floor.
Peni threw a programming card at him. "Can you code under fire?"
Noir swept him again. "Surprise attack."
The testing escalated. Blow after blow, question after question, each one designed to expose how unprepared Miles was. Peter B. stood in the background and said nothing.
Peter watched the spark in Miles’ eyes beginning to die.
Before Noir could strike again, Peter caught his fist. Two precise finger-strikes hit nerve clusters. A shove sent Noir stumbling. In the same motion, Peter dropped Gwen with pressure points to her legs and put Ham on the ground with a single stomach shot.
"ENOUGH!"
The cave went silent.
"What the hell is wrong with all of you?! Are you trying to break the kid?!"
No one answered.
"Answer me!"
"Mr. Parker," Miles said quietly.
Peter followed Miles’ gaze and realized his retractable spider-legs had deployed involuntarily.....four bone-white blades with razor tips, different from their original form. He had not used them in years.
He concentrated. The legs retracted with four sharp metallic cracks that made everyone wince.
He crouched in front of Miles. Instead of finding fear, he found sadness and deep disappointment. The boy slowly lowered his head.
"Why do we fall?" Peter asked.
Silence.
"To learn how to get up, Miles." He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The tears came. "Have you lost faith in me?"
"Never." Peter offered something that might have been a smile. "Let us go upstairs. Go home. You have had enough for today. You have school tomorrow. Remember the lesson about time."
Miles refocused. "Learning to be Miles and Spider-Man."
"That is right. Rest. Shower. Once you finish your student duties tomorrow, come back and we begin training."
"But....."
"I will sort everything out. Trust me. We have time." He turned to May. "Give him some clothes. A kid in a Spider-Man costume will attract attention."
"Come," May said. "There is something of Peter’s you can use."
"Thanks," Miles said to both of them. "To both of you."
He stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, Peter called out: "Remember, Miles.....state secret!"
Once Miles was gone, the atmosphere turned glacial.
"If your plan was to make the kid stop trying to be Spider-Man," Peter said, "congratulations. You nearly succeeded."
"Hey, we.....!" Peter B. started.
"What were you trying to do? Beat years of experience into a child in ten minutes?"
"If the kid cannot handle this, he will not handle what is coming," Noir said.
"You do not know his limits. You do not know what he can and cannot do." Peter paused. "I will ask one question. When you were first bitten, did you know anything about being Spider-Man?"
Silence.
"That is what I thought. When you got your powers, the last thing on your mind was heroism. You became heroes because something forced you to. None of you were ready at the start. You were ready after gaining experience." He looked at Peni.
"Programming under fire? You can do it because of your mech. Without it, can you do the same?"
Peni said nothing.
"None of you were born knowing how to do this. You were forged through defeat and time. He is just starting. Help him now so he does not make the same mistakes you did."
He swept his gaze across the room. "Did any of you consider what happens in your home dimensions if you die here? The people who need you? The people who love you?"
Nobody spoke.
"Go upstairs. Take a shower. You stink."
"And what will you do?" Peni asked.
"Fix a problem." He walked to the workbench, pixelated briefly, and growled through it.
Noir straightened his hat. "You heard the boss. Move."