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Parahumans Series - WildbowSpider-Man - All Media TypesSpider-Man (Comicverse)Marvel (Comics)Marvel 616Marvel
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Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver & Peter ParkerPeter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
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Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverPeter ParkerLisa Wilbourn | TattletaleBrian Laborn | GrueColin Wallis | Armsmaster | DefiantDragon (Parahumans)Sophia Hess | Shadow StalkerThomas Calvert | CoilEmily PiggotDanny Hebert
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Cross-Posted on FanFiction.NetCrossoverAction/Adventure
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Published:2026-05-07Updated:2026-07-30Words:60,582Chapters:14/?Comments:255Kudos:390Bookmarks:136Hits:13,101
Tangled in a Stranger's Web
CHPrime
Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Peter
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After settling into a crummy hostel with dirt cheap rent and even dirtier floors, I swung around the city to see the sights, and stopped a few robberies. Which led to a few oddly pleasant surprises.
"Hey, you're Spider-Man! That guy who saved us!"
"Dude, my sister's alive because of you, and you stop me from getting mugged? Best hero ever!"
"Can I have a selfie? Everyone on PHO's going to be so jealous that I got the first photo of you!"
The civilians all seemed friendlier than they were back home. In NYC, I could count on gratitude, but that was usually mixed in with the cranks shouting whatever JJJ had told them, and the odd few people who thought I was a Mutant and that that was terrible.
Here on Bet, it was all smiles. Hell, they expected me to showboat. Apparently, the PR in PRT stood for something other than parahuman response.
…Oh, that joke was as ancient as the organization itself, wasn't it? For shame.
Checking things out online, Assault and Battery had given me the right info: powers started appearing in the 80's, the PRT was the government's equivalent to the Avengers, and superpowered fights were almost as common as they were back home. It also looked like alternate dimensions were pretty common knowledge, but only that Aleph one.
To top it off, the only super scientist to have ever cracked the dimensional barrier had died, so no luck there. A few people speculated some villain named String Theory could do it, but she was safely behind bars.
And unfortunately, the couple didn't lie about the bad news either. These 'Endbringers' were nightmares, worse than almost all of the giant monsters, giant mad scientist robots, or alien gods that attacked back home. Walking natural disasters that hadn't been so much as slowed down in nearly twenty years, with no one able to kill them.
Millions of lives lost between the three, entire cities destroyed, and that's not counting the ones put in permanent quarantine when everyone inside was driven insane. Not even Scion, this world's strongest hero, could do much other than make them go away.
And while there were a lot of villains back home—To the point where I wouldn't be surprised if my rogues were in an organized sport league against Cap's and Wolverine's when they weren't busy trying to kill us—there were way, way, way more villains here on Bet. Some estimates had the heroes outnumbered three to one, with several cities outright surrendered to criminals.
The last big thing I found before putting my phone away for the night was the Slaughterhouse Nine. They were this earth's answer to the question: "What if one of Carnage's murder sprees never stopped?"
The answer was a roving gang of psychopaths who had been roaming North America for two decades with a rotating cast of maniacs. Each of the villains had an estimated body count in the hundreds, a few even in the thousands, something only true monsters like the Red Skull and Mister Sinister managed back home, and they had more than half a century on all of us.
Apparently, not even the strongest heroes could keep them down, because when they tried, an invincible woman got permanently maimed, and this world's Reed Richards died horribly. The only solution the PRT had come up with was to evacuate anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path while heroes died to give normal people precious minutes to escape.
Home often felt like an endless battle that we heroes were constantly on the edge of losing, with villains constantly escaping and world-ending events barely avoided every other month, but at least there was a sense of hope. People like Reed and Tony were leading us towards a brighter future. For the most part, the bad guys did get thwarted. But here on Bet, there was only a feeling of resigned acceptance.
Moving away from the existential horrors after an uncomfortable night's sleep, Brockton's landscape reflected the outside world. Villains outnumbered the heroes by at least two to one, and only if you counted the teenage Wards.
Though there was also a small group of independent heroes helping to balance the scales. They were called New Wave, and didn't have secret identities. The team was also a family, so I guess that made them this world's version of the Fantastic Four?
They even had their own little miracle worker, Panacea, who was a dedicated healing hero and could even cure cancer. It was kind of funny, now that I thought about it. We didn't have anyone whose power was healing back home. Doctor Strange and other magicians could cast some healing spells, but most of the time, we all had to walk off broken ribs. I guess with all the darkness here, there had to be a few bright lights.
Next was a group of mercenaries, led by a woman called Faultline. They did the work of the highest bidder, but seemed…fine, if only by comparison to some of their peers. The group would probably get along well with Silver Sable, if I was reading things right. They also had two "monstrous" members, called Case 53's. Apparently, some superhumans woke up without memories and a mutated appearance, along with a strange tattoo.
There were a lot of conspiracy theories about these Case 53's, though no one knew anything for certain. But everyone seemed to agree that there was something unnatural going on, given that no missing persons reports could ever be connected back to them.
Some people online suggested they were dimensional refugees from alien earths, but that didn't seem right. I was a refugee from another earth, and I still had all my memories. Plus I hadn't grown four arms again or turned into a literal spider, so I could probably rule that out. Then again, the PRT did have paperwork ready just for people like me, so maybe the 53's were all from the same dimension?
Whatever. It was a long internet rabbit hole that didn't go anywhere. However, information about the villains was all too easy to find.
The most persistent gang, the Empire Eighty-Eight, was the local Hydra cell of neo-nazis, and had been entrenched since the 80s. They had enough supervillains to outnumber the PRT already, and could apparently call up plenty more from their European and Deep South allies if things got serious. There were also rumors that they had a swath of police and business types helping them on the down low.
The Asian Bad Boys, who Bakuda had been a part of, only had two villains because they only needed two: the dragon-man named Lung, who only got stronger the angrier he got, and Oni Lee, a teleporter who could make clones to suicide bomb people. They were a pan-asian gang that Lung ruled through fear, smashing a bunch of gangsters who hated each other together under his thumb.
Next were the Merchants, who seemed to be full of everyone the Nazis and the Asians rejected. They didn't seem to have much of an ideology compared to the other two gangs, but were content ruining people's lives by peddling hard drugs and mowing down cars with their custom super-tanks.
After that was Coil, an elusive criminal who hid behind mercenaries. What little information there was made him seem like Kingpin back home, more of a manipulator and a bankroller than someone who got their hands dirty. Hopefully, he didn't have as mean of a right hook as Willie did when things got ugly.
There were a few more independents that didn't warrant much thought. A literal clown and two idiots who dressed up as video game characters. They'd probably get along great with Screwball, but I would be happy to ignore them as long as possible.
Finally, there was my erstwhile band of teenagers, the Undersiders. They were pretty new on the scene, which I should have expected with them being teenagers and all.
Armsmaster hadn't been lying. They were a group of thieves, mostly wanted for petty heists and break-ins. Their one big claim to fame came just a few days ago, when they robbed a bank and beat up the Wards while holding a dozen people hostage with black widows.
Letting criminals go on their merry way when I had the chance to stop them. Pete, when will you learn?
Still, I was pretty sure this was different. These Undersiders really did strike me as dumb kids living in a big, scary world, especially in comparison to the other criminals. Who knew how they got to this point? I figured I could try and reach out. Give them some pointers now that they had been thrown into the deep end, and with any luck, pull them out before they sunk too deep.
I tried to call MJ's number. Just to see if there was still a hole in reality. I got some old guy living in the Bronx.
After a productive morning of lying on my butt and staring at my phone, I decided to at least try on my job hunt. The PRT had given me some dummy information to give prospective employers after filling out all the paperwork, but they didn't have any dummy references or dummy portfolios, so I was still paddling upriver. It was almost like they wanted me to give up and sign…
Still, I found a few leads that I went to hunt down. Most were duds with desperate locals beating me to the punch, and I had expected my last interview to go the same way.
"Any experience teaching?"
"I tutored some high school kids to pay for college, and a bit after that?"
"Alright, you're hired on a probationary basis."
"...Really? Those are your only questions?"
The man sitting next to the URGENTLY HIRING sign glanced up from his paperwork. "You want more?"
"Don't you need a background check or something—"
He snorted. "That's what 'probationary' is for." He scribbled something down and handed it to me. "Besides, it's not like you've got much competition." He gestured towards the empty line. "Welcome to Winslow, Mister Parker."
Thus, I returned to high school for a second time, now as a tutor. Apparently, the last guy quit in the middle of the school year, and the administration needed a quota filled pronto. I spent an hour talking to Karen Knott and Richard Nelson, the computer and science teachers respectively, and passed both their tests with flying colors.
By Monday, I was ready to work tutoring students during lunch break, after school, and pulling the kids who really needed it from classes.
By Tuesday, I knew why the last guy had disappeared.
I had seen some bad schools before, but Winslow took the win by a mile. Everything was old, from the textbooks to the computers to the mildew. Kids openly wore gang colors, with way too many repping Empire 88. Fights in the hall seemed to happen daily, even if there were no witnesses among the student body.
To top it off, the administrator who was supposed to be looking over me spent most of his time breaking up fights in the hall. When he wasn't doing that, he was looking at his phone. I wanted to say that it was because I was doing a good job, but his glazed expression said otherwise.
I had to hunt down several of my prospective students, because it turned out all the kids flagged for tutoring were also the kids who chronically skipped classes. Thankfully, a career of chasing criminals left me pretty prepared to hunt down tardy students dumb enough to remain on school grounds. Though the kids weren't as impressed by my enthusiasm.
One of the little nazis actually tried to light up in my face after spending ten minutes mouthing off to me. Though ripping the cigarette out of his hand and tossing it out the window without looking up was pretty fun. The brat even shut up for a few minutes and let me go over his test scores.
Of course, he had a dozen people willing to tell the principal that he never smoked and no one but me had seen anything. My word as the adult was enough to get him written up, but just barely. The little bastard was arrogant, but he hadn't been stupid enough to try and chew me out until the overseer went to the bathroom and hadn't come back.
Later, I was told the guy had to break up another fight. Something about a recording starting another fight, and then another, and another. From what I gathered, this was an especially bad week, and only ramping up thanks to Bakuda's attack.
Also, there were no real detentions for this sort of crap. I asked the principal, one Ms. Blackwell, about it during the afternoon debriefing.
"Because when you push that button too much, those children stop coming to school." Was her inspiring reply. "And truancy officers never catch gang kids."
I couldn't help but think she was trying to tell me something. The increasingly violent gang fights I stopped in the night only added to that impression.
I kept trying to call MJ. It was the same old guy. He got angrier and angrier every time I called. Reed, Johnny, and the Avengers hotline were all dial tones, even when I swung by the place I was spat out.
I did get a call from Armsmaster, though. I told him I was fine, but he wanted to schedule a meeting anyway. Fair enough. We pencilled in a date for the following week when he wasn't busy.
The next morning, I found a broken coffee pot spilled over my desk and papers. And then I found I would be paying to replace the papers that were destroyed, because the school budget was held together by twenty-year-old duct tape. And, of course, no one in the office had seen anything. Because of course they didn't.
Anyone else would have quit or stopped trying by then. The pay was crap, barely enough to cover rent and some groceries, never mind refilling my webbing. And from some of the conversations I had with my fellow educators, they all seemed to be expecting my resignation soon.
But there were still some good kids there. A lot of them. They deserved more than this. Even the bad kids deserved something better. And I could give it to them. I'd done it before, I could do it again.
Plus, I was stubborn like that. The only thing more pathetic than running to Uncle Sam after a few days was quitting before my first paycheck came in.
And so after spending my morning cleaning my desk, I was off to my first meeting with a student, Ami Hee, a sporty girl who I was pretty sure wasn't involved in any gangs. She was sitting on the edge of a C-, so I was off to do what I could to fix that before exams rolled in.
It was the ten-minute break before third period, so there were a bunch of students milling about in the hallways. I was about to turn the corner—
A sudden flash of movement caught my eye. I turned just in time to see a student tripping. Tall, long curly black hair, baggy clothes, glasses. The prototypical geek.
She managed to stop her fall, but just barely. The heavy backpack on her shoulders wasn't doing her any favors. The girl's face was blank, like she was used to losing her balance.
Just behind her, a brown-haired girl with a fashion budget was giggling to herself.
"Hey." I turned around and addressed the mean girl. "Something funny?" I snapped.
My glare shut her up pretty quickly. "Uh…um…" Her eyes were darting around, looking for support to cling to. Some students were watching me. Everyone else was moving along like nothing had happened. "Yeah, I was thinking about this joke my friend told me, and—"
She wasn't even fooling herself. But unfortunately, this would go nowhere. Judging from the crowd's reaction, no one would speak up. Again. "Scram." Little Miss Bully was all too happy to.
I turned my attention back to the tall girl. She was staring at me in confusion. "Are you alright?"
Her face remained eerily blank. She mumbled out a dejected "Yeah…" as she readjusted her backpack straps.
I'd seen the face before in the mirror. There was no way forward but the direct route. "Did that girl push you?"
I got my first emotional reaction: confusion. The girl started studying her feet. She muttered something that sort of sounded like a yes.
I tilted my head. I didn't have much authority as a tutor, especially a probationary one, but compared to the gang activity, this was a simple fix. The hard part would be getting her to trust me enough to come forward. Then I could kick it up the chain and get Blackwell to solve this.
"I'm the new science tutor here. If this happens again, or if you ever need to talk, come find me, alright?"
The girl looked bewildered. Had I come off too strong? "Okay." She mumbled again.
Maybe a little more personable—what would I have wanted someone to say when Flash had been bullying me? "No problem. My name's Mister Parker, what's yours?"
"...Taylor." She looked ready to squirm, so I cut her loose with a wave. She scampered away like a particularly unenthusiastic mouse. Well, with any luck, her bully would remain spooked for a little while.
I was interrupted again by a teacher this time. "Hey, Peter!" It was George Gladly, a pleasant enough guy who looked younger than me. "I saw your desk on my way in. Sorry about that."
"Hi George. Thanks."
"Accidents happen, and no one wants to fess up. It sucks." He gave a half-smile. "Listen, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure, I've got a minute, but then I've got to go." I followed him into his mostly empty classroom. He sat down at his desk, and I pulled up a chair.
"No problem, I won't take long. Settling in okay? Other than the—you know."
"As good as I can in a town like this."
George nodded. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. You might have noticed that we have a bit of a gang problem at this school."
I had, actually. George continued. "You said you were from New York, right?"
"Queens, yeah."
"Right." His smile strained a bit. "Listen, I know it can get bad there—" Boy, did it ever. "—But you've got big-name heroes. Strong capes. Legend is in charge of that city—" No idea who that was. "—And he's part of the freaking Triumvirate." No idea what that was. "He doesn't let anything get too bad under his watch." I nodded along like I understood a word of what he was saying.
"But Brockton is different. Our heroes are outnumbered. And the villains they face…" George was quiet for a moment. "I'm new here, like you. And Winslow isn't high on anyone's priority list, so the gangs…" He glanced up. "Capes make people bold. You're lucky if you only have to replace slashed tires. You learn when not to push at Winslow, or…"
That I understood, loud and clear. "And no one sees anything?"
"Sometimes, it's best to accept that there is nothing to see. Focus on the kids you can help." George sighed. "It's sad, but some of them can't be reached, no matter how hard you try."
Near the end of the day, my penultimate student, a well-meaning Hispanic kid with a good understanding of how to take apart computers and a habit of looking over his shoulder, was leaving. And just in time, my final charge for the day was walking in, of her own volition!
…Or maybe not. It was that girl from the hallway, Tyle—no, Taylor. Her backpack was still stuffed to the gills, and she seemed as morose as before.
"Did you get pushed again?" I asked with a frown.
The girl blinked. "What?" She seemed surprised to see me. "No, I got a slip that said to come here."
"Oh." I turned my phone on to check my schedule. "Taylor Herbert. Nice to meet you, again."
"It's Hebert, actually."
I glanced down at my phone. I wasn't getting old, the screen was tiny. "Sorry about that. I—"
"It's okay." She settled into the uncomfortable plastic chair, clearly used to it. "Everyone gets it wrong."
The next half-hour was productive, despite our bumpy start. Taylor was a bright kid and knew plenty of the material. She was rough around the edges and probably could do a bit more studying.
"Very good. That's a pretty complete description of an ecosystem." I nodded along. "Just remember that a lot of bugs like to eat each other, too. You can add a lot more links there."
Taylor paused, then nodded. "Right. I forgot." She pushed some of her hair back. Now that I saw it up close, it seemed kind of familiar. This was going to bother me for the rest of the day, I just knew it. Maybe it looked a bit like how MJ did her hair after we got married?
But getting back on track. Something didn't fit. Taylor didn't fit the pattern of kids being sent to me. She wanted to learn things and already knew a lot. What was wrong here?
"Taylor, do you mind if I ask you something?" She nodded. "Do you know why you're here? I don't mean that in a condescending way—you're a bright kid, and you know a lot of the material. With what we've gone over, you shouldn't—"
I paused again and tried to zoom in with my phone, but the stupid dirt-cheap database interface hated being on mobile and refused to show what I needed it to. "—Well, from what I've seen, your science grade should be higher. Have you been studying harder than normal lately?"
The girl's face took on that same eerie blankness it had in the hall. "No."
I blinked. "Do you get nervous on tests? Forgot to turn in homework? Or if it's something else, I can tell Blackwell, and we can help you."
She kept staring at me blankly. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No." Taylor was looking towards me, but she wasn't looking at me. "No, I—" She pulled her phone out of her pocket far too quickly. "I'm sorry, if our session is up, I have to go."
"Um. Okay." I'd been ignored by students long enough to know the brands on this earth, and punched enough criminals in the face to recognize a burner phone when I saw one. "Is it serious? Can I help?"
"I-it's a family thing. Not a big issue." Taylor was already halfway out the door. "Goodbye, Mister Parker."
"Good—" The door was already shut.
Taylor had been in an awful hurry. And her excuse had been pretty paper-thin. It sounded like one of mine when I was in high school. Or in college. Or in—alright, I admit my excuses were always weak, but when you have a secret identity and have to go put on a costume quickly, you—
Oh.
And that meant her hair hadn't been bugging me for no reason. Who had I met in this reality, who was a teenager with long curly hair? I hadn't met too many people, just the Protectorate, some muggers, and the Under—
Oh crap.
"Welp, that's it for today Peter." I jumped. The administrator guy had been here the whole time? "Be sure to finish off the reports this weekend." He didn't even bother looking at me as he left.
And now I had homework too. Double crap.
Of all the coincidences…this meant I had to go snooping after my teenage student like a creep instead of finishing the paperwork I needed to do at a reasonable hour, didn't it.
Nuts.
Notes:
Anyone who ever had the misfortune of using a school's website on their phone before ~2015 knows Peter's pain.
While I have most of the story mapped out, there are a few holes I might like to fill. I'm thinking about adding one or two interludes to my plan. Please feel free to share your ideas for more Interludes, I'd love to hear them and include them if I can.
Also, in the outline, there are five POV characters. We've already met three of them, but see if you can guess the other two!
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