The sun hung low and golden as Peter Parker walked through the deserted Midtown streets. The city still carried the echoes of the recent chaos—empty storefronts, boarded windows, a few lines of caution tape fluttering in the breeze. He paused by a newsstand, flipped past a headline: "Oscorp Attack Fallout: Who's Next?" He turned the page before reading more. He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of the mask, the number of lives almost lost, or the fact that MJ left him.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Felicia Hardy on the screen. He ignored it and kept walking. Then another buzz. Ethan Kane. He put the phone away without a glance.
He needed air. He needed nothing. He exhaled. And then, a voice called him.
"Mr. Peter! Hey — Mr. Peter!"
He looked up. Two girls stood at the edge of the plaza: one small, wide‑eyed, in jeans and a hoodie; the other taller, confident, silver bracelet glinting in the sunlight. Amy. Paige.
Amy waved energetically. "Over here!"
Paige offered a polite wave, a little shy but strong around the eyes.
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, girls. What's up?"
Amy bounded forward. "Nothing, I just saw you passing by. After everything that happened. I thought… maybe you'd like company."
Peter nodded, surprised. "Sure. Thanks."
They walked together. Paige said quietly: "You're Peter Parker, right?" Peter smiled and nodded. "That's me."
Amy smiled. "And this is Paige. Paige — this is Mr. Peter Parker."
Paige nodded, cursory, then asked: "Are ya… okay? You seem kinda down."
Peter forced a smile. "I'll be fine. Just life problems."
Amy fell in beside him, keeping pace with small skips every few steps. Paige walked on the other side, more measured — observant, cautious, like she wasn't sure what kind of day this was turning into.
"So," Amy said, "what do you normally do when the city isn't falling apart?"
Peter chuckled. "Laundry or cooking. Usually ends in tragedy."
Paige smiled faintly. "Sounds thrillin."
They turned a corner. Sunlight glinted off the cracked glass of a nearby coffee shop. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable — just heavy with unspoken things.
Amy's voice broke it. "I saw on TV, you know. They're saying Spider-Man saved hundreds of people. That the Green Goblin was Norman Osborn. That was you, right? You wrote the story, right?"
Peter hesitated. "Something like that."
Paige's brow arched. "You know Spider-Man?"
Amy grinned at him. "You could say they work together."
Peter shot her a quick, warning look — but before he could change the subject, the sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
They all froze.
Two police cars screamed past the intersection, followed by a cloud of smoke rising a few blocks down.
Amy's eyes widened. "There's a bank over there."
Peter's body tensed automatically, instincts kicking in. "Stay here."
He took a step forward — but Amy caught his wrist. "Wait. Let me help."
He blinked. "Amy, this isn't a training run. People could—"
"Exactly." Her tone was soft, but the resolve in her eyes was clear. "I can help them. I have powers, and so does Paige."
Paige folded her arms. "And what about you, Mr. Parker? You planning to run toward gunfire for fun?"
Peter exhaled. "Not for fun." He looked between them. "You both need to stay back, alright? Let the cops handle—"
Amy grinned. "Paige, you wanted to know what he does for a living, right?"
Peter groaned under his breath. "Amy—"
She gestured toward him like she was introducing a magician. "This is Spider-Man."
Paige blinked, stunned. "You're kidding."
"Wish she was," Peter muttered, pulling his hoodie off and slinging it aside. The faint red of the suit peeked from beneath his shirt. "Stay close, both of you."
Smoke curled out of the shattered doors of City Trust Bank. The air carried the echo of gunfire and shouted orders. Inside, masked robbers moved between overturned desks and frightened tellers.
Peter web-slung onto the nearest lamppost, scanning the chaos below. Gunfire echoed off the marble walls, and smoke rolled from the shattered entrance of City Trust Bank. He was about to swing down when Amy stopped just short of the door.
The air around her began to vibrate—soft at first, like a tuning fork finding its frequency. Light spilled from beneath her skin, gold bleeding into silver, until it was hard to tell where she ended and the radiance began.
Paige stepped back, shielding her eyes. "What's happening to her?"
Amy's voice came layered now, two tones speaking in harmony—hers and something older, infinite. "It's alright. I'm here."
The glow flared outward, forming the outline of armor as if the heavens themselves were pouring into shape. A celestial breastplate solidified across her chest, etched with silver and blue constellations that pulsed like living stars. Hieroglyphs glowed faintly along the seams, shifting as if alive.
Above her brow, a cosmic headdress unfurled—an arc of light shaped like the Milky Way, leaving faint trails of stardust in the air. Embedded gems shimmered, each one burning in the colors of Nut's divine children: Osiris, Isis, Set, Nephthys, and Horus. For an instant, the halo expanded behind her head, turning her silhouette into a moving constellation.
Her wrists ignited next. Star-etched bracers rippled into existence, hieroglyphs crawling across their surface as they shifted into dual golden Khopesh blades, the edges singing with cosmic heat. The blades flickered, then merged into a long double-bladed polearm crackling with starlight.
A midnight-blue cape bloomed behind her shoulders, flowing like liquid night sky, its surface alive with shifting stars. When she moved, it trailed motes of glowing stardust that patterned the air with constellations.
Her boots—golden greaves traced with constellation sigils—lit beneath her, leaving astral footprints that hovered a second before fading. The cosmic hum that followed her grew louder, the sound like the echo of galaxies turning.
When Amy finally opened her eyes, they glowed like twin suns.
Paige's jaw dropped. "That's… new."
Then she rose, the air rippling beneath her feet, and the celestial armor caught the sunlight—turning the street below into a reflection of the stars.
Paige's eyes widened. "So this is how you trans—?"
Amy smiled faintly. "Long story." Her voice carried that same harmonic resonance, divine and human braided together.
She extended a hand; a ripple of cosmic force swept out, blowing open the smoke and revealing two of the gunmen. Peter dropped between them, webbed their weapons to the ceiling, and spun one into a desk.
Paige blinked once — then sighed. "Screw it."
She clenched her fists and husked. Her skin peeled away in silver shreds, revealing a gleaming metal form beneath. The air shimmered with heat and sound as bullets sparked harmlessly off her body. She moved like a battering ram, flooring three more robbers in one charge.
Peter shot her a thumbs-up mid-swing. "Nice trick!"
She smirked. "Yours isn't bad either."
Amy floated overhead, her body ringed in orbiting motes of light. "There are hostages in the manager's office!"
Peter nodded, flipped over the counters, and shot webs that sealed the robbers inside a vault. Paige punched through a security door like paper, freeing the cowering staff.
"Everyone out!" Peter shouted.
One last robber popped up behind the desk, aiming at Amy.
Paige turned too slow — but Amy's hand lifted, and a shimmering barrier appeared mid-air. The bullet stopped inches from her face, suspended in a glow like moonlight through glass.
Her eyes glowed brighter. The bullet melted into dust.
When it was over, the only sound was the hum of Amy's light fading back to normal.
By the time the sirens reached them, the robbers were webbed, welded, and whimpering. Peter vaulted out the window, the girls following through a haze of smoke
They retreated to a rooftop nearby. The afternoon light painted everything in gold and gray — the city alive again, if only barely.
Amy's glow dimmed entirely. She looked exhausted but thrilled. Paige's skin shed back into its human tone, leaving her shivering slightly in the cold wind. Peter took off his mask, the lines of fatigue plain in his face.
"Not bad teamwork for a team that didn't exist an hour ago," he said, smiling faintly.
Paige laughed, brushing dust from her hair. "That was insane. I've been training for years, and you two just… improvise like that?"
Amy shrugged. "I practice with Mr. Peter often. Ethan asked him to help me."
"Wait! Ethan knows about this? That lying sack…" said Paige in anger
Peter looked over the skyline. "Let's calm down. Anyway, you did good. Both of you. But remember — this isn't a game. People get hurt out here."
Amy nodded seriously. "I know. I saw enough of that already."
Something in her tone silenced him. The kid wasn't naive anymore.
Paige tilted her head. "You're mentoring her, ain't ya?"
Peter smiled softly. "Trying to. I think I'm doing a poor job of it since she figures out most things by herself."
Back at Felicia's apartment.
The city's hum was quieter here, tucked away from the chaos. Felicia Hardy sat cross-legged on her couch, idly spinning a silver coin between her fingers. Her phone lay on the coffee table, screen dark.
She'd listened to music when a knock sounded at the door.
Felicia frowned, crossed the room, and cracked it open.
"Ethan."
He stood there, jacket immaculate, eyes tired but alert.
"Evening," he said simply.
She leaned on the frame. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been calling both you and Peter. Neither of you answered. Considering the city almost tore itself apart a little while ago, that's… concerning."
Felicia crossed her arms. "You check in on people like a stalker, you know that?"
Ethan smiled faintly. "I prefer 'concerned associate.'"
She sighed. "Peter's fine. Probably just needs time. Don't tell him I told you this, but he and Mary Jane seem to have broken up."
"Oh… that sounds rough." Ethan's tone was mild. "And you? What's wrong with you?"
Felicia hesitated. "I'm… figuring things out."
He nodded once, stepping back. "I doubt that. Seeing the scene behind you, I'm betting you've been day drinking all day and probably yesterday too. Look, it's none of my business what happened, but if you need to talk to someone… I guess you can talk to me about it. If you have no one else to talk to."
Her brows furrowed. "You're really bad at trying to cheer people up, aren't you?"
Ethan smirked faintly. "Occupational hazard. May I come in?"