Chapter 2: Shadows of the Future
The quiet buzz of the city outside faded as he settled deeper into Peter's chair, the dim desk lamp casting a warm glow over the organized chaos of the room. MC leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the final fragments of Peter Parker's memories align neatly in his mind like downloaded files. He felt strange — not just in the physical sense of occupying someone else's skin, but the emotional residue of Peter's life still lingered. Like echoes in a hallway.
He could remember Peter's last thoughts before sleep. The exhaustion, the pain, the guilt... but now, all that was background noise. MC was calm. Focused. Calculating.
He knew exactly what he was capable of now — and it was far beyond what Peter had ever realized.
The room was quiet save for the soft hum of the old laptop. He cracked his knuckles and picked up Peter's phone. The lock screen still showed the unread message.
MJ (11:27 PM): "Let me know you're safe. Please."
He stared at it for a moment. That girl… Zendaya's face flashed in his mind. Well, her version here. Smart, sharp, skeptical — and yeah, beautiful. Peter had been head over heels.
MC smirked. "Peter, you had taste. I'll give you that."
He typed a reply, keeping it vague and in-character.
Peter: "I'm okay. Just needed some rest. I'll call you tomorrow."
He hit send. One step taken.
Then his thoughts drifted — naturally, and maybe a little dangerously — to Aunt May.
Aunt. Right.
But damn if the woman wasn't absolutely stunning. And she wasn't even some old traditional aunt either. She was hot. Not just "older-woman" hot, but like, walk-into-a-room-and-make-it-stop kind of hot. And she cared. Deeply. Genuinely.
MC leaned back and exhaled. "God help me…" he muttered, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. "Peter, you were surrounded by women who actually loved you and you still managed to be miserable half the time."
But he wasn't here to play a saint. He wasn't Captain America. No noble speech, no code of ethics stopping him from enjoying what he had — this new life, this new body, this fresh start. He'd take what he wanted. With caution, of course.
Because he had bigger problems now.
And one of them just slammed into his mind like a cold, steel fist.
Mysterio.
"Shit," he muttered, eyes going wide.
He shot up from the chair and ran to the corner of the room where Peter had dropped the EDITH glasses. They were still inside the gray Stark-issued case, right where Peter had left them before collapsing on the bed.
"Please tell me it hasn't happened yet," he whispered, snapping the case open.
The sleek, high-tech frames glinted under the lamp light. They still looked like ordinary sunglasses — but MC knew better now. Through Peter's memories, he understood just how powerful EDITH was. A full-scale global surveillance and attack system disguised as wearable tech. Tony Stark's legacy… and Peter Parker's burden.
Now his.
He put them on. The retinal scan buzzed and flickered.
"Hello, Peter. Welcome back."
"EDITH," MC said quickly, "access global news. Key term: 'Spider-Man identity reveal,' 'Spider-Man leaked video,' 'London,' and 'Mysterio.'"
"Accessing news and social media reports," the voice responded smoothly.
The glasses projected a HUD across his vision. Dozens of news articles, tweets, video thumbnails, and comment threads poured in like a flood. Most were from a few hours ago, just after the battle on Tower Bridge. The public was still debating what had actually happened — some believed Mysterio was the villain, others painted him as a hero who tried to stop Spider-Man.
But then the red-highlighted file popped up.
A breaking news banner.
"Viral video released moments before Mysterio's death claims Spider-Man is teenage vigilante Peter Parker."
The air in the room thickened. His pulse spiked.
"No. No no no—"
He opened the video.
There it was. The edited footage Mysterio had left behind. His voice, twisted and dramatized, calling Spider-Man a murderer. And then… the kicker.
"Spider-Man's real name is Peter Parker."
The clip ended with a close-up image of Peter's face, torn from some Stark file or drone capture.
"Goddamn it," MC growled, yanking the glasses off his face.
This wasn't just a problem. This was a nuclear bomb dropped right into the middle of his new life.
He paced the room, mind racing. The fallout from this would be massive. Peter had gone from friendly neighborhood hero to international target. And now, MC had to deal with that fallout — not just survive it, but turn it to his advantage.
He slipped the glasses back on.
"EDITH, scan the internet. How far has this video spread?"
"Currently trending across all major platforms. Estimated views: 86 million. Mirrors and re-uploads detected. Data suggests a 92% belief rate in authenticity."
MC swore under his breath. He didn't have time to deal with the legal system or media spin. He needed a plan — fast.
He sat back at the desk, opened the laptop, and started typing.
The good news? He had access to all of Stark's tech through EDITH — and now, with his own sharpened intelligence and Peter's familiarity with it, he could dig deeper than Peter ever had.
He could fight this.
He opened up a black-hat script Peter had once started but never finished — something about breaking into social platforms' backend APIs. MC built on it, modifying it at rapid speed. He didn't just want to remove the video — he wanted to track down the original source, discredit it, and inject a digital smokescreen.
"Let's see if we can make the world forget, Quentin Beck," he muttered.
He pulled in Stark satellite feeds, tracing the exact upload origins. It came from a server in Eastern Europe, masked through five layers of VPN and data proxies. Child's play now. Within ten minutes, he cracked the source path.
He leaned forward, grinning.
"Found you."
Then he looked at EDITH again. "Deploy misinformation protocol. Create five deepfakes — one with Peter Parker edited out, another with a different masked vigilante, one with a voice mismatch, and two random hoaxes. Flood the internet. Push the narrative that Mysterio faked the whole thing for attention."
"Processing. Uploading to 700 high-traffic channels. Initiating bot engagement to skew public opinion…"
MC watched the progress bar, heart steady.
This was his domain now. A world of data, systems, and manipulation.
Peter would've panicked. Gone to Happy, or Nick Fury. Maybe even tried to explain to the public.
MC had no intention of explaining anything.
He just fixed the problem before it got out of control.
But this wasn't over. Not yet. There'd be more aftershocks. Mysterio's followers. Law enforcement. Public paranoia. Maybe even Fury himself getting involved again.
MC took off the glasses and set them back on the desk.
He looked around the room — Peter's life. His mess. His dreams. His responsibilities.
"This isn't just clean-up anymore," he said aloud.
"I'm rewriting everything."
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