"Are you suggesting a mass-production model? Like the Super Soldier Serum my father wouldn't shut up about?"
Tony paced the lab, a glass of chlorophyll juice in hand—his latest attempt at being 'healthy.' The idea gnawed at him. Multiple Spider-Men. It defied the logic of singular genius. Iron Man was unique (well, until he built the Legion). But Spider-Man? Was it a franchise?
"Sir," Jarvis interjected. "The probability of three distinct biological entities sharing the exact same genetic mutation and nomenclature—'Peter Parker'—without a common origin is statistically zero. Unless..."
"Unless they are Variants," Tony finished, tapping the glass against his chin. "Parallel universes. The Multiverse theory. So, somewhere out there, there's a Tony Stark who is a cowboy. Or a woman. Or—God forbid—poor."
He shuddered at the thought.
"If the Multiverse is real, then a 'No Way Home' event implies a breach. A hole in the reality dam. If three Spiders can walk into a bar together, then three Tonys can too."
Tony paused, his ego wrestling with the concept.
"How would I handle meeting myself?" he mused. "Would we fight? Would we team up? Or would we just critique each other's suit designs?"
"Given your personality profile, Sir, I predict a 94% chance of mutual antagonism followed by a 6% chance of grudging respect," Jarvis deadpanned.
"You're hilarious. Keep the sass to a minimum."
Tony set the glass down. "But if I'm a Protagonist in this 'story,' what's my power set? Do I get bitten by a radioactive iron? Do I learn magic from some ancient wizard in a cave?"
"Sir, your description mimics the plot of several B-list fantasy novels."
"Jarvis, we established that our reality is a B-list fantasy novel. Keep up."
"Understood. Shall I create a file for 'Peter Parker'?"
"Do it. Cross-reference every Peter Parker in the tri-state area. Flag anyone with an unusual interest in arachnids or high-tensile polymers."
"File created: Spider-Man / Peter Parker."
Tony watched the screen, waiting. The diary had become his addiction. He needed the next hit of dopamine, the next clue to the puzzle of his existence.
The ink bled onto the page.
June 10 (Continued)
Wait. I might be looking at this wrong. Maybe the glitch isn't the timeline. Maybe the glitch is Gwen herself.
I forgot about the Ghost-Spider universe. In some timelines, Peter Parker doesn't get bitten. Gwen does. She becomes Spider-Woman.
If this is a Spider-Gwen universe... oh, man. That's even darker. In those timelines, Peter usually turns himself into the Lizard out of jealousy or inferiority. And then... Gwen has to kill him. Or he dies fighting her.
The writers really are sadistic, aren't they? 'One must die so the other can live.' It's a fixed point. Either Gwen dies in Peter's arms, or Peter dies at Gwen's feet.
I wonder which version of Gwen I'm tutoring? The Victim? Or the Survivor?
Tony stared at the words, the blood draining from his face for the second time that hour.
"Jesus," he whispered.
He had just accepted the idea of a Multiverse. He had just accepted the idea of parallel Spider-Men. Now, the diary was throwing a curveball that twisted the knife.
"Spider-Woman," Tony murmured. "So the girl isn't just a love interest. She's a potential combatant. A superhero."
"And a potential killer," Jarvis added somberly. "If the diarist is correct, her origin story involves the death of her best friend, Peter Parker."
"Tragedy either way," Tony said, his voice hard. "If she's the 'victim,' she snaps her neck. If she's the 'survivor,' she has to kill her boyfriend. What kind of sick author writes this stuff?"
He thought of the bright, smiling girl Lucas had described earlier. A math student. A teenager. Unaware that two different universes were fighting to decide which tragedy would define her life.
"Jarvis," Tony said, his resolve hardening into diamond. "We have a name. Gwen Stacy. We have a location—Queens. And we have a potential threat—Peter Parker, who might turn into a giant lizard."
"Shall I deploy the Iron Legion to monitor Ms. Stacy?"
"No. Too loud. Too aggressive. If this 'Narrative' fights back when we interfere directly... we need to be subtle."
Tony walked to his fabrication station, pulling up a holographic blueprint.
"We need eyes on the ground. Something small. Something unnoticed."
He began to manipulate the hologram, shaping a tiny, drone-like device.
"Let's see if we can save the girl and the lizard," Tony muttered. "I don't care what the script says. I don't do tragedies."