The morning sun rose from the horizon, casting a crimson glow across the ocean before piercing through the layered skyline of New York City. Its golden rays filtered between towering skyscrapers and fell straight into Peter's eyes.
"Why do you always like watching the sunrise?"
A soft, almost melting voice drifted from behind him. A pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist, pulling close.
Behind him, Felicia—wearing nothing but one of his shirts—pressed herself against his back. Her long hair cascaded freely as she rested her head on his shoulder. The firmness of his body gave her a deep sense of security, something she found herself increasingly addicted to.
Her fingers traced lightly across his well-defined abdomen, feeling the strength hidden beneath that calm exterior—a power coiled like a beast waiting to be unleashed.
Peter exhaled slowly, suppressing the heat rising within him.
"Because every time I see the sun rise," he said, his voice low but steady, "my ambitions rise with it. Those rays are a reminder… that this world is still waiting for me to conquer it."
The sheer confidence in his tone sent a thrill through Felicia. Her heartbeat quickened, and though she shook her head slightly, her hands betrayed her, drifting lower with growing boldness.
Peter caught them instantly.
"Seems like your 'surrender' last night wasn't very sincere."
Before she could react, he turned, lifted her effortlessly, and tossed her back onto the bed. Her startled cry echoed briefly—
And then faded.
…
By the time it was over, Felicia lay sprawled across the sheets, utterly exhausted, like a doll abandoned after being thoroughly used.
Peter, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered.
"Looks like I'll need to improve your endurance," he said casually. "Begging for mercy every time won't do."
Felicia glared at him weakly, too drained to argue, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.
She had trained in dance since childhood, her upbringing in an old noble family instilling discipline and resilience. In terms of physical endurance, she could rival professional athletes.
And yet—
Looking at Peter's bare upper body, the dense muscle structure, the perfectly sculpted frame—
She could only think one thing.
This guy is a monster.
…
After helping her clean up and recover in the bathroom, easing her back to a state where she could finally move again, the two shared a leisurely breakfast.
Soon after, with Felicia behind the wheel, they headed for the airport.
Their destination—
Monaco.
…
A private jet belonging to Umbrella Corporation awaited them.
Seated comfortably, Peter reviewed documents while contemplating the upcoming meeting.
This wasn't his first interaction with influential figures in this world.
But—
It would be his first time dealing directly with someone from the Avengers.
He had already crossed paths with most of the X-Men—except for Professor Charles Xavier. That included a certain clawed mutant whose popularity rivaled even the man he was about to meet.
Wolverine.
And yet—Peter felt no excitement.
"I love you 3000."
Once, that line had moved him deeply as a Marvel fan.
But now—
He wasn't just a fan.
He was Peter Parker.
He was Spider-Man.
He no longer needed saving.
He no longer needed idols.
…
The flight from the East Coast to Europe was relatively short—certainly shorter than crossing the United States.
Before long, the plane touched down.
A black Rolls-Royce was already waiting.
Beside it stood a large, broad-shouldered man with a straightforward, almost honest-looking face.
"Mr. Parker," he said respectfully, "I'm Happy—Mr. Stark's driver and bodyguard. Please, this way. Mr. Stark has been waiting for you."
Monaco itself didn't have an airport. As the second smallest country in the world—essentially just a city—it lacked the space for one.
Peter glanced at Happy, then suddenly smiled and gave him a light pat on the shoulder before stepping into the car with Felicia.
Happy blinked, puzzled, instinctively checking his shoulder.
Nothing seemed wrong.
Still confused, he got into the driver's seat.
What he didn't know—
Was that in another version of this story, things didn't go quite so well for him.
In the comics, after falling out with Tony Stark, Pepper Potts had once ended up marrying Happy—only for things to… complicate themselves later.
Very complicated.
Of course, that wasn't something Happy needed to worry about right now.
Peter, however, couldn't help but feel a faint trace of sympathy.
After all, this wasn't the movie universe.
And if things followed a certain trajectory…
Well.
Happy might one day find himself in a rather unfortunate position.
…
As the car drove off—
Peter didn't notice a man exiting the airport behind him.
A burly figure covered in tattoos, carrying a worn suitcase.
His destination—
Was the same.
Monaco.
At that very moment, the city was alive with energy.
A world-class racing event was underway.
Engines roared.
Crowds cheered.
Drivers from across the globe prepared to ignite the streets with speed and adrenaline.
And amidst all of that—
Two paths were about to cross.
One belonged to a man who sought power.
The other—
To a man who already held it.
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T/N:
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