Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New York City breathes differently after they forget Peter Parker.

The tension on the streets loosens, the air sings louder, and the world finally rights itself to a sense of normalcy. Spider-Man is not necessarily beloved, but he is treated with a little more respect than before. Or at least back before people knew his identity and that he was just a senior in high school.

He’s still hounded by random guys who still think he killed Mysterio and the cops are on his ass the moment they see him and he’s alone and it’s fine because at least his identity is safe. MJ and Ned are safe. And if hearing Jameson’s vitriol makes his blood boil, he doesn’t say a word.

In all honesty, his situation still makes him angry—angry that Beck revealed him, angry that people were so quick to assume the worst, angry that his life has changed so drastically and he can’t even fault anyone else because, at the end of the day, he’s just angry at himself.

Spider-Man swings through the streets, waving lazily at the people who want to say hi. Wind rushes through his ears and it almost feels like everything’s normal. Just him in the air, the rhythmic push and pull of his webs catapulting him through the city. His stomach protests so he drops down to one of the hot dog carts he frequents.

“Hey, Spidey,” George says, whipping out a hot dog and placing it on a bun. He squirts down a healthy portion of mustard and hands it upwards.

Spider-Man’s perched on top of it and he gives him a hearty thanks as he reaches down and grabs his free food. He rolls up his mask and chews it, head bobbing. “You good?”

“Yeah, man,” he says, swallowing. “Thanks for this, really. You don’t have to.”

George waves his hand at him. “You saved my cart. It’s the least I can do.”

He chows down the rest and rolls down his mask. Hopping down, he grabs the minimal cash he stashes in his shoes and puts it in the tip jar.

“Aw, man, c’mon!” George whines. “It’s free for you! Anytime.”

Spider-Man knocks his fist twice against the counter lightly. “Nah. That’s for good service, George. I’ll see you around!”

Avoiding people, Spider-Man shoots a web and flings himself up towards the sky.

It’s not all bad, he’ll admit it. Some people like George make him really love helping his city out.

But May’s gone and so are his friends and he just can’t forget. That’s the irony, isn’t it? Everybody lost their memory of Peter Parker and he’s the only one left to carry the burden. Peter wanted too much from the world than it was willing to give him; it’s his fault and he has to live with it. Maybe it’s always meant to end like this: Peter, alone in an apartment he can barely afford; Spider-Man, New York’s vigilante, or its hero.

Alone, always alone.

Winter breaks him into someone new, someone tougher than he thought he could ever be; spring makes him grow into his new skin. Peter doesn’t even need to drop out of Midtown High because they have no record of him at all, so he gets his GED in a month or so. He takes all the odd jobs he can find, volunteering at F.E.A.S.T. when he has the time, which isn’t much but it at least makes him feel closer to May. He becomes friends with some of the regulars and meets Martin Li who seems like a pretty decent guy.

When money gets too tight, he sells selfies and videos of Spider-Man to J. Jonah Jameson because apparently nobody can catch him. He’s gotten good at ducking away from cameras after those months of infamy. His apartment is now rent-controlled and it’s just the small things that make life seem bearable.

Peter integrates himself back into the world little by little.

But still, he mentally marks the dates he would have gone through in his head. He spends the month of May without her and talks to her grave on her birthday. Sometimes Happy comes around and they get to talking, but Peter always leaves before he can ask more questions. Later that month, MJ and Ned graduate and he would have too. By the time August rolls around, they are probably setting off to MIT, away from New York. Away from his life.

His grief quiets, it softens. It folds itself into the corners of his mind, but it never leaves.

Spider-Man roams around the city, his old haunts, when grief threatens to deafen him. He visits Midtown High’s roof, trying to cloak himself in nostalgia. He swings by Ned’s place, his fire escape; he waves hi to Ned’s Lola when they catch each other’s attention. It makes him laugh every time she asks him to clean up cobwebs or take a few spiders outside. And when he swings by MJ’s roof, all it does is remind him of their impromptu dates. Well, now it just reminds him of her.

There are a few people he rarely sees. Or rather, people that he avoids after his multiversal incident. There’s Harry Osborn, son of Norman Osborn, and he seems like a pretty decent guy but Peter doesn’t want to get caught up in all that. Not when his father reminds him of May’s killer. So he steers clear of the up-and-coming science mogul and the shiny Oscorp building melding in with the rest of the skyline.

Then, Peter gets an offer for an internship with Otto Octavius even though he’s barely a freshman at Empire State University. Despite having liked the version of Octavius that Peter met, he can’t chance it. Knowing his Parker luck, he would probably try to help him and he’ll turn out as it did for Peter 2. So Peter writes him an email to say that he wants to get his degree first; Octavius writes back and tells him he understands and to get into contact with him when he’s in graduate school.

Peter drops by May’s grave on days when it feels too hard to be Peter Parker. The cold slab of stone reminds him of who he is without somebody else there.

He survives. He grows.

But he’s alone.

Chapter Text

Fatigue weighs Spider-Man down until he stumbles as he hits ESU’s dorm building rooftop. His ribs ache and they’re probably going to be better by his afternoon classes tomorrow. But right now, it hurts to inhale so he leans his head against the ledge and focuses on breathing.

Most of the time, he would stay out late to see if there was anything else that needed his attention, but a few guys got the drop on him when he was protecting this girl walking home. He took the crowbar to his chest instead of letting them touch her.

He’s getting reckless, he knows. There are probably ten different ways he could’ve avoided getting hurt and keeping the girl safe, but his brain’s all scrambled. He just needs to get some dinner and go back home and hopefully finish up his lab write-up before class. Barely a few months into his freshman year and he’s falling behind. Why he decided to major in biophysics is beyond him.

Without wincing, he props himself up on the ledge and lays down, his eyes towards the New York City skyline. The sun’s setting and there’s a chill breeze in the air. Some measure of peace settles over him. Usually, the night brings more possibility of crime and whatever the hell NYC has to offer him but it doesn’t deter him.

His city is beautiful like this during golden hour.

Someone shuffles in the background.

Spider-Man jumps up and swivels around, hissing out a pained breath. But when his eyes finally focus on the disruption, his heart flutters like a wild bird in his chest.

MJ.

God, what is she doing here? Isn’t she supposed to be in Cambridge with Ned? What happened to MIT? All of his questions linger at the tip of his tongue but he won’t let them come out. It’s not like he has any right to ask him anyway.

She’s gorgeous—her hair dyed auburn, framing her face like a flame. She’s got her glasses on which means she’s been reading recently and he wants to kiss her so badly his lips ache with it.

MJ tucks her arms into herself, smiling slightly. “You know, I heard you come onto the roof like five minutes ago.”

Spider-Man just stares at her. It takes her words a few seconds for him to be able to comprehend them, but he’s still silent. Unable to think, he attempts an unaffected vibe but fails. Instead, what comes out is a garbled-up, “Hi?”

MJ’s mouth curves. “Am I taking up your broody rooftop time?”

He splutters, “My what?”

“You know what I said,” she snorts, pieces of her hair flying in the wind.

Spider-Man rolls his eyes even though he knows she can’t see him. “I don’t brood.”

“You seem to do it pretty often.” She freezes and backtracks, “I mean—”

The twinge in his ribs makes him lean back against the ledge. He hopes that it doesn’t look like he’s in pain, but going by the keen look in her eyes, he’s botched it. “Now what do you mean by that?”

MJ lies, pushing up her glasses. “Nothing. You just seem like the type of guy to brood.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Uh-huh.”

She shoots him a dry look.

But, really though, what does she mean by ‘pretty often’? Actually, don’t pry, Parker. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t—

She coughs. “Whatever. You can have the roof. I’ve got midterms coming soon. Callahan is such a hardass.” The last part is mumbled mostly to herself, but he hears her regardless.

Now, wait. He knows Callahan. That’s one of the humanities professors at ESU. Peter has English 101 with him every Tuesday and Thursday morning and his midterm for that class is in two days. Which means—MJ goes to school here. And if she’s here, does that mean Ned’s also here? Or is he still back at MIT? He’s burning up with questions, but he would seem like a creepy stalker if he just up and asks her.

She turns to leave, waving at him. “Bye, Spidey.”

Spider-Man blurts out, leaping up from the ledge, “Wait!” He winces, his arm coming up to cradle his ribs. “Fuck.”

MJ faces him quickly, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.“Yeah? Are you okay?”

Damn. He did not think this through. Dropping his arm, he starts, “Uh, I’m good. I just wanted to say good luck on your midterms?”

“Thanks,” she says, sincere. MJ hesitates. “Can you make it home all right?”

“What? Yeah. This?” Spider-Man waves over his chest. “I’ll be all good by tomorrow.”

Her worry warms him with its familiarity.

She nods and steps back. “See you.”

He gives her a two-finger wave. “See you.”

And in a minute, he’s all alone under a dark blue sky.

#

After almost breaking the multiverse, Spider-Man has had a few months of relative quiet. Sure, he’s been out in the streets fighting crime and helping people, but it’s been a while since there’s been a villain. He figures after the whole ‘saved some guys from different universes and sent them back home’ thing as well as the wrecking ball that was Mysterio, he deserves a bit of a break.

It’s Wednesday and Peter’s going to get his midterm results back tomorrow, so he’s swinging around the Lower East Side to get a little steam off. He grabs a stray balloon, picks up a kitten—yes, that does happen—and manages to help this group of old ladies find a bar for midday drinks. They all squeeze his arms and cheekily ask if he wants a shot before he goes.

“Nah,” he says, waving them off. “Gotta keep these senses clear. Have a good day, guys!”

They all chorus their goodbyes and Spider-Man anchors himself to two lamp posts before shooting himself upwards.

His spider-sense goes off and he makes a dash to the left before his mind can even process the movement. A large beam flies through the air like an arrow.

Screams erupt from below and Spider-Man webs it fast, hauling it up and away on top of a building before it could hurt anyone. He grunts and sets it down, looking at where the beam must’ve originated. But all he sees is a void of black blink and disappear just a hundred feet away.

What. What?

It could have just come out of nowhere.

“The fuck is that!” some guy from below screams, pointing upward. He stumbles and runs away just as Spider-Man turns to face the new guy.

A man pops out from a black void and surveys the streets. Or at least, that’s what Spider-Man thinks he’s doing because his face is half-covered by a dark large spot. Actually, though, his skin is a stark white, and his entire body is covered in spots. But they’re . . . odd.

The man’s spots don’t actually look like spots. Spider-Man comes closer, trying to avoid his line of sight. These spots look like what he imagines black holes to be. A void. It’s so dark, the light from the sun doesn’t do anything to illuminate it.

Spider-Man slides out of hiding, his knees spread apart, but his hands are up. “That could’ve hurt a lot of people,” he says, his mouth a thin line.

What looks like to be Spot’s mouth quirks up. “Spider-Man. Get out of my way.”

“And what are you planning on doing,” he asks, his fingers twitching towards his web-shooters.

In a few quick motions, he sprays webs at Spot, trying to catch him but he manages to evade them.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Every word comes that comes out of his mouth is accompanied by a hit but Spider-Man dodges every single one of them. “I’m not explaining anything to you.”

Spider-Man rolls his shoulders, shrugging.

Fine then.

He takes a swing at him, pulling back a little, but he wasn’t about to break the guy’s whole skull and—

His fist disappears inside one of the black spots and it doesn’t even occur to him that the spot leads anywhere until his own hand appears out of a floating void and reaches a place to land.

Him.

Spider-Man stumbles back from his own force which pulls his hand out of the void.

The black hole pops away and Spider-Man is keenly aware that the hole in Spot’s cheek has now disappeared, leaving behind that white exterior.

Spider-Man cracks his jaw, cheekbone stinging.

Fucking hell.

Despite being a hundred percent confused, he still tries to bind Spot up with webs. Spot smirks and flicks out his wrist, sending all the webs he’s thrown at him back at his own body. With an infuriating chuckle, Spot takes a black hole on his chest, the bigger one, and flicks it in the air. It expands and deepens but Spider-Man can’t see anything through it. Spot simply jumps in and the black hole disappears with a resounding pop.

Spider-Man, trapped in his own webs, proceeds to break through. Once he’s out, he tosses the excess to the side and says, “What the fuck?”

A random guy hiding behind the wall a few feet away nods solemnly. “What the fuck.”

Chapter Text

Spot has been suspiciously absent for the next few weeks.

Spider-Man asked around even though he feels supremely awkward around the other heroes now after the whole ‘I know you and some of your secret identities and you used to know mine but don’t anymore because I accidentally broke the multiverse.’

Such is the life of Peter Parker.

Besides, asking them didn’t help anyway. None of them had any idea where or who or why Spot exists. Most of the New York heroes weren’t exactly there when Spot hit and since Spider-Man’s the only one who saw him, his leads take him nowhere. It would be pretty easy to find the guy (in costume, if that was his costume and not his actual skin), so he asked them to keep an eye out and they just agreed.

That was around two weeks ago and he’s been trying to keep busy—not that it’s particularly hard for him to do. Midterms have come and gone and it’s getting colder and colder again, so he’s been spending more time studying and trying to find paid internships with people who might not potentially be villains. He still hasn’t found one but he figures he can scrounge up a few side jobs while he waits for a couple of responses.

His Stark intern application is still sitting, a forever opened tab that he just can’t seem to get rid of.

But Spot and his never-ending supply of responsibilities are not the only ones who have been on Peter’s mind as of late. After meeting MJ out on the roof that one night, his brain keeps coming back to her—to why she’s here at ESU instead of MIT, to why she was painfully melancholic in the dying sunlight.

MJ, MJ, MJ, his mind echoes in the space where she used to reside.

Here’s the thing about loss: sometimes you grow up and around a person, fitting and stretching and expanding to add them to the patchwork of yourself, and when they leave, there’s a scar between both bodies. One here, one gone. An open wound. It’s surprising how much time you can spend with someone and still come out the other end empty-handed.

Funny, Peter thinks. They only had a few months together as a couple. Known each other as best friends for a few years. But her loss aches through him. Even though he knows she’s here, in New York at ESU, he can’t just go to her. Can’t do much of anything.

That’s what he tells himself, at least.

Peter made a choice that day at her workplace. His tongue was on the verge of spilling out his secrets until he saw that little cut on her forehead. He shoved those words back down his throat and swallowed them.

He doesn’t know what to do. Ignore her? She seems to crop up everywhere he goes and it would be extremely awkward if she noticed that he’s been avoiding her for no good reason. Well, on her part anyway. Spider-Man touches down on a few ESU rooftops often enough and she seems to be there a lot. Sometimes she has friends, sometimes she just brings a book to read or a sketchbook to draw in, sometimes she’s practing lines for a play maybe. He figures he can drop by once in a while. So he does.

It’s just so he doesn’t seem rude to her, that’s all. He promises.

Not that he has a good track record with those.

A few times, MJ asks him to stand there while she sketches him. He’s not a good model, he rarely stays still, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t know if it’s because she’s skilled as an artist that her hands make quick work over his features, or if it’s because she’s done this so many times before that it comes easily to her. Maybe both.

Stop thinking, Parker, he berates himself.

This . . . these conversations are just friendly. They’re barely acquaintances. Even though there are so many other times she’s there on some random rooftop and she tells him about her day and her classes and the professors she finds annoying and the friends she’s making.

Maybe it’s the mask that makes her loose-lipped.

Peter can’t find it in himself to ignore it. He cherishes every bit of information about her and Ned who is still her best friend —thank God, they have each other—and keeps it close to his chest.

Ned’s doing well at MIT, MJ’s getting into acting, and Peter—

Peter’s managing.

He doesn’t offer much back in their weird, budding friendship. He’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, but a few things slip through. Just random facts that say nothing about him as Peter, let alone as Spider-Man. But, like him, it seems that MJ takes all these little details and tucks them away into her back pocket. He knows this about her, knows the way her mind works.

And even if Peter tries, he doesn’t seem like he can avoid MJ for long. Not just at ESU, but on the rooftop of his own apartment which damn near gave him a heart attack, or even on Midtown High’s roof when he’s feeling a bit nostalgic and she is too, apparently.

Slowly, as the weeks roll by and his rooftop conversations with MJ have increased substantially, Peter eases up on his hunt for Spot. He hasn’t shown up anywhere and he had a relatively slow day as Spider-Man. Just a few muggings and one attempted robbery. The rest of the night seems quiet enough, so he decides to take a long way home and goes to Queens.

The grief in his chest grows louder and louder as December nears. He thinks he can appease it if he visits his old haunts. Sometimes it makes it worse, sometimes it doesn’t. But this morning, he found May’s old CD player in one of the boxes he was looking through that held some of his winter clothes. He took it out, plugged it in, and pressed play.

His laugh was tinged with sadness as synths blasted through the speakers. “Take On Me” by a-ha filled his empty apartment and he missed May so much he almost couldn’t bear it.

He bears it anyway.

So Peter drops by their old apartment, that Thai restaurant she loved so much, and finds himself at Midtown High without even realizing it. His gaze catches on a familiar figure leaning against the ledge. He doesn’t have anywhere else to swing and he’s pretty sure that MJ saw him already so he drops down and waves.

“Are you stalking me?” MJ teases, the first words out of her mouth.

She can’t see Spider-Man’s expression so he exaggerates his movements. “No, no, no—I was just—I was based in Queens before, you remember?” He almost winces. She doesn’t remember, dumbass, that’s the entire point—

“Yeah,” MJ says softly, distantly. “I remember.”

Peter freezes. “You . . .”

It’s as though she just realized what she said and tucks her arms back into her chest. “I went to Midtown High. You were everywhere.”

Even though Peter knew, he knew MJ doesn’t Peter Parker, the man behind the mask, somehow this admission still hurts. To keep himself from thinking about it too deeply, though, he asks, “So, are you a rooftop kind of person, MJ?”

She shrugs. “It feels safe. I know it’s not and, honestly, I’m scared of heights. It’s weird. I feel safe up here. I don’t know. Like . . .” MJ stops. Thinks. “It’s comforting,” is what she settles on.

Though she might not remember the countless hours they’ve spent on top of buildings across New York, Peter does. They kissed and talked into the night and escaped from the world up here. Their own bubble of comfort away from prying eyes. Maybe her mind doesn’t remember, but some part of her body does.

Peter doesn’t know how to feel—doesn’t know if that surge of hope creeping up his chest is a good thing or not. All he says is, “Yeah, I can say the same thing.”

MJ tosses him a wry smile.

He asks, “How do you get up here anyway?”

Rooftop access is restricted for most people and the only time MJ’s been on the roof before the whole multiversal nightmare happened, was with him. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’m kinda friends with Harry Osborn.”

Osborn?

Spider-Man stills. MJ seems to notice, her space between her brows deepening. She doesn’t comment on it though.

“Like the Oscorp Osborn?” He tilts his head, leaning against the ledge. He gestures his thumb at the New York skyline in the general direction where Oscorp stands tall amongst the others. It’s a new addition, quickly built and already famous. He’s unsure of whether this Norman Osborn is the same guy with the Green Goblin persona from the other universe, but he’s been keeping track of him. He forgot, however, that Norman has a son.

MJ’s nose crinkles. “Yeah. He’s not so bad for a rich, white guy. Really nice, actually. Ned met him last weekend when he came over. They got along pretty well.”

“Ah,” is all he can say. “I’m . . . glad.”

Even Peter doesn’t know if he’s lying or not.

“Yeah, me too. He’s got, like, connections I guess. I don’t exactly know why he wants access to most of New York’s roofs but hey”—she shrugs—“I’m not complaining. It’s nice up here.”

“Pretty sweet deal.” Peter’s voice is slightly strained but he thinks she won’t notice.

Just a few blocks over, a siren blares through the city. His back straightens but he still looks at her before he goes.

MJ smiles, something soft, and steps closer to him. Peter’s heart pounds in his chest. She rests on hand on the spider on his chest and kisses his cheek. “See you later, Spidey.”

“Uh,” he says smartly, “see you.”

And then Spider-Man swings out of sight.

#

Out damned spot, Spider-Man thinks as he flips over a void that Spot slides under him. His landing is smooth and his spider-sense tells him he’s got about half a second before he needs to move again.

You know, Peter doesn’t even remember where it’s from. That quote floating around in his mind. Something Shakespeare? It has to be because MJ went through a tiny Shakespeare phase and violently devoured everything and regurgitated it back to him and Ned. He still remembers a few memorable lines despite not retaining a single ounce of the plot.

When Peter almost kicks himself in the face again because his leg accidentally falls through a hole, he can’t help but agree with Shakespeare. Damned Spot indeed. He manages to swerve in a feat of impressive acrobatics and come out the other end unscathed.

December passed without a hint of this guy and Peter thought that this guy was maybe a one-off. But New Year’s Day proves him wrong. He just didn’t want to spend all day wallowing inside because he didn’t have any assignments since the new semester hasn’t started yet, and he was technically unemployed again. So Peter donned his Spider-Man suit and went out to see if anyone needed help.

It was going well until Peter shot a web and watched it come straight back at him. In a free fall, Peter struggled and found a non-void-y building to anchor himself on before he catapulted himself up on the roof.

From then on it’s been him and Spot and the various civilians below that are caught in the crossfire.

Spot manages to lead him down from above to the streets where Peter did not want to be. There are still a fair number of black holes on the man’s body which means Spider-Man’s got a lot more to look forward to.

Spider-Man is trying to get the guy’s attention away from everyone else and solely on him but the man’s gaze is affixed to the Oscorp building. He’s further away from the guy but he can tell Spot’s gearing up for something big.

In a flash, Spot gathers up a large black hole from his body and slices his hand through the air twice. Once towards Oscorp and the other towards the sky.

No.

Spot aims high for the Oscorp building which is at least some sort of blessing in disguise because he tells everyone under the black hole hovering above them in the sky to get away. Some people run immediately, but others stand stock still, mouths agape.

A blur of auburn hair gets Peter’s attention.

MJ.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This cannot be happening.

Spider-Man runs to her, his breath caught in his throat. “MJ,” he tries to say but it comes out as an exhale instead.

She’s a mess, her hair’s in disarray and her clothes are dirtied up, but she’s alive. She’s breathing. She’s here instead of out of harm’s way.

“MJ,” Spider-Man finally says, “Are you okay? You—you’ve gotta get outta here.”

She blows a noisy breath out from her lips. “Don’t worry about me right now. I’m trying to get these people off the street.” MJ grabs a woman by the shoulders who’s been frozen in terror ever since she’s gazed into the dark hole; her whole arm is grazed and bleeding but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Ma’am, this man will take you to the nearest hospital, okay?”

MJ wrangles a man by the back of his backpack and gets him out of the way. He doesn’t even protest when she guides him to the injured woman. “You, get her out of this place.” The man stares at her, wide-eyed. Her tone leaves no room for objections. “Now.”

Peter’s been grabbing spare pieces of debris that have been falling through the hole. Anytime now, a huge chunk of the top of Oscorp is going to come through and everyone will be toast.

They lock eyes and she gives him an exasperated look. “Spidey, don’t you have, like, a supervillain to contain or something?”

Peter blurts out, “You’re incredible.”

She shoots him a wide grin. She’s fucking beautiful. Her steps are hurried as she rushes to him, a far cry from those hesitant steps on the rooftop just a few weeks ago. MJ places her hands on his shoulders. “Thanks, charmer, I know.” MJ grazes her lips against his mask. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger.”

Peter nods, filled with more courage than he had a few moments ago. He’s filled with so much adrenaline and his heart is pumping faster than ever and it’s not because of the villain—it’s because of her.

It’s always because of her.

Spider-Man swings and gets out of Spot’s line of sight.

From what he can tell, everyone’s out from under the black void and he winces as a large chunk of Oscorp lays on the street, smushing several cars and a few lamposts. D.O.D.C. is going to have a field day with that.

Spot laughs, bright and free.

Spider-Man figures this is a perfect time since he’s so busy.

He jumps from his place on the wall and tackles Spot to the ground. It’s like a bar brawl with Spot trying to leave through his own black holes but Spider-Man slips through just in time to catch him. He’s on the roof now. And then on another. Time Square. Brooklyn. Defunct Avengers Tower. Alleyway. Spot’s running out and Spider-Man’s almost got him.

A frustrated scream rips out of Spot’s throat and he gathers the rest of the black holes on his body and throws them at him.

Usually, his spider-sense would give him an ample amount of warning, and it technically did, but the scope of the void is so large that it covers the entire alleyway. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, so Peter oddly holds his breath and waits for where he’s going to be on the other end.

Darkness swallows him whole.

He braces himself and waits a second before opening his eyes.

Huh.

The familiar sight of the New York skyline floods his vision. But from the top of the Statue of Liberty. Well, it’s better than a thousand feet underwater. Or worse. Jameson’s bedroom. God, he hates traveling back and forth from Ellis Island. He sure as hell doesn’t have enough webs to make a makeshift web-boat, so he just has to awkwardly tag along a ferry.

Peter toys with the idea of going back to the last place where he saw Spot, but he figures it’s a moot point. It looked like any other alley in NYC and Spot would be gone by the time he finds it, probably along with any clues.

He clenches his fist, angry at himself. Despite not wanting to, Peter goes back home.

But as he does, something unfamiliar tingles at the base of his spine.

The entire way home, his spider-sense is telling him something’s wrong.