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Objectively, Stephen was having a bad day: the kid he helped save half the universe with asked for his assistance in brainwashing the entire world, and Stephen, like an idiot, agreed, stupidly without making sure said kid understood the gravity of the spell. Then, when the spell went haywire due to Peter’s incessant demands for exceptions, some rather distasteful multiversal trespassers decided to make themselves at home through their splintered reality.
So, yes, subjectively, Stephen was having a really bad day.
“I need you to capture them,” he instructed Peter firmly, lest the kid found another way to fuck this up. What their universe sorely needed was no more fuck-ups, please. “Bring them here, while I figure out how to get them back before they destroy the fabric of reality.” Grimacing, he placed a hand to his lizard-inflicted wound, hand sticky with coagulated blood. “Or worse: Wong finds out.”
“Oooh, this sounds exciting,” came a conspiratorial whisper from the shadows. “Can I join in?”
Peter yelped, immediately firing the handy new tool Stephen had empowered him with.
Surprised, Stephen turned around just in time for their unexpected guest to land themselves in a cell.
A sigh hissed in the dark. “Come on, man, that’s just rude,” they said, and with that proceeded to walk through the barrier Stephen created.
Okay, then. Mystical threat targeted.
Injury forgotten, Stephen was on alert, slipping on the welcoming weight of his sling ring. Beside him, Peter activated his partially-destroyed Spider-Man suit.
Oh, great. Stephen could feel a migraine coming on. And that was before this Spider-Man variant’s cloak started moving independently of its master’s form. There was only one cloak imbued with the magic capable of doing so, he knew that for a fact.
The Cloak of Levitation. Different Universe Spider-Man had the goddamn Cloak of Levitation. And, upon closer inspection, the Eye of Agamotto.
In response, Spidey adopted a defensive pose, producing twin sets of shields at their fists. It was a trite gesture, one done more for show than anything else. Stephen himself had performed far more advanced defensive shields than that.
Nevertheless, the display apparently impressed the kid, because of course it did. The two Spider-Men – the two Peter Parkers, Stephen supposed, and god just the thought of two Peters running around wreaking havoc on their universe made him want to retire now, please and thank you – relaxed their respective stances.
Peter pointed at the variant of himself, unsure but so earnestly desperate to understand the absolute clusterfuck unfolding before their very eyes. “So, uh, you’re the Spider-Man of your universe?”
“I prefer to think of myself as Spidey Supreme,” the red-and-blue clad figure stated, hiding a smile behind the mask, Cloak of Levitation billowing around them.
Well, this surely was terrific. When Stephen accepted the responsibility of Master of the Mystic Arts, he sure as hell hadn’t expected to be dealing with this.
Shaking his head at the frankly sacrilegious flourish, and in light of what his Peter Parker had currently done to get them into this mess, Stephen couldn’t refrain from scoffing. “I take it you’re the Sorcerer Supreme?” he asked, bitingly sarcastic.
It was the first time Stephen had voiced up in this whole exchange, and he watched with cautious eyes at the visceral reaction Spider-Man had to his presence. The mask’s eyes widened as they trailed over his form, eyeing him so intently it made him uncomfortable. He got the impression there was more to this appraisal than mere curiosity; it was entirely possible that, if this person was the Sorcerer Supreme, a Stephen Strange existed alongside them in the Sanctum Sanctorum.
He wondered whether Spidey had fought their Stephen Strange for the title, wondered whether they got along in their universe, wondered what could possibly have occured between them to prompt such an unnerving reaction.
Spidey tilted their head, as though remembering Stephen’s mocking question. “Why, does that prospect offend you?”
Truthfully, a great many things offended him. It required no stretch of the imagination to say that a vast majority of offensive prospects were spearheaded by a certain arachnid-themed vigilante with a penchant for misguided chaos.
“I have to say, I run a much more fun Sanctum Sanctorum,” good ol’ multiversal Spidey said, light and carefree, abandoning Stephen’s conversation.
“Thanks for the feedback.”
Spidey’s grin knew no bounds, permeating through the mask. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Strange.”
“It’s Doctor.”
A pause. “You’re a doctor here, too?” At this, there was a strange note in Spidey’s voice, discordant and ajar with their tone. Something Stephen would maybe label sad, or even regretful.
There was a rock in Stephen’s gut, and the longer Spidey kept dropping hints at Stephen’s existence in their universe, the larger it became.
“Um,” Peter said, breaking the sudden, thick atmosphere. “You’re a Peter Parker, too?”
“Sorry, it’s just– I can tell you’re calling me Peter, and my name is Peta. With an ‘a’. Because I’m a girl.”
A+ explanation, well done.
“Like the morally dubious animal rights’ organisation,” Spidey continued, cocking his–her head, mulling something over. “Wait, you do have that here, right?”
A confused half-smile bloomed on Peter’s face, growing in intensity the longer Spidey Supreme prattled on.
In contrast, Stephen was growing more and more irate. He curtly informed their interloper that, yes, PETA did exist in the reality she blundered into with negligent care.
“What spell did you fuck up, anyway?”
Hesitating, Peter looked to Stephen for guidance, and when he gave none, the kid gave her the name.
“The Runes of Kof-Kol, eh?” she said, not an ounce of worry or concern in her voice. “Not a spell you want to get wrong.”
Annoyance prickled at the precipice of Stephen’s spine, vertebrae sending irritated messages across his central nervous system, neurons firing on all cylinders.
“Don’t worry,” she told Stephen, clapping a consolary hand on his back. “We all have to start somewhere. You’ll get there.”
Right. That was it. He’d had enough of arachnid-folk and their propensity – that apparently defied all rules and expectations of the multiverse – to antagonise the hell out of him.
Gesturing to the kid responsible, he politely (read: bitingly) informed her that her blame was misplaced and would be better directed to her alternate, teenage self.
In his defence, Stephen was having a really bad day. Don't forget that.
Unfortunately, this Peter – sorry, Peta – seemed to take issue with his version of events. Specifically, his narration of them.
Objecting, she argued, “Peter didn’t perform the spell.”
Stephen’s jaw clenched. “No, he just botched it.”
“Good thing he’s not a sorcerer, then, isn't it?” She paused. “Did you inform him of the parameters of the spells, the limitations of it? How dangerous it can be?”
Silent, Stephen stayed his tongue.
“Did you tell him what that spell entails, the magnitude of what he would be giving up?” Even through the mask, her gaze was hard and unforgiving. “Or did you blindly expect him to follow your orders, despite you knowing better?”
His jaw clenched. Hard. Teeth may have splintered; it was too soon to tell.
Nevertheless. As any good doctor could attest to, the best medicine to combat a (well-deserved, but that was beside the point) reprimand was to simply misdirect.
Allow Stephen to demonstrate:
“Well, since you have so many opinions about our predicament, perhaps you might enlighten us as to how we can fix it. Or perhaps you would like to tell us more about the multiverse, since you're so very knowledgeable."
Peta crossed her arms.
"You're right, I've been in something similar before. I've actually met other variants of myself," she said, and for some incredibly strange reason, Stephen detected no lie from her mouth. "But in terms of the multiverse, we tend to think of it more as the Spider-Verse. Or Spider-Geddon, if it's a particularly bad adventure."
"...we?" Peter asked, tentative.
"Us. Or, other us's, I should say." Spidey waved a dismissive hand. "It's a whole thing."
Okay, he couldn't deny it. Stephen's interest was piqued. "You're saying this has happened before?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"I've travelled the multiverse before," Peta casually dropped. "No big deal."
"You've... what?"
She stared at him. "I've travelled the multiverse before," she repeated slowly, as though he were five. It was decidedly irritating. "You know, along the Web of Life and Destiny. Though I try not to do it too much – I'm kinda still learning the ropes, and I get the impression the other Spider-Totems aren't a massive fan of my comings and goings."
Well. This was the first he was hearing of such a phenomenon.
"Seriously?" Peta asked, having apparently received and understood their collective confuddlement. "You guys never heard of it here?"
"Evidently not," Stephen said, flat.
Her response was an exceptionally dignified, "Huh," before something of an explanation came at, "It's a five-dimensional construct existing in three-dimensional space."
She turned to Peter. “It's the source of our spidey powers.”
“And the Spider-Totems?” Peter inquired, taking a minute to ponder all the information their ‘guest’ imparted with carefree cheer.
“Uh,” Peta floundered. “They're like the avatars of spider-people. Technically, you and I are classed as Spider-Totems since we got our powers from an irradiated spider bite.” She paused. “Wait, you did get your powers from that, right?”
Jaw-dropped, Peter nodded his head.
“And is it always a Peter – or Peta, I guess – Parker that gets them?” he asked.
“Nah. There's plenty of totems who aren't Peter Parker, but we are by far the most common.” She hummed, thoughtful. Stephen fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Like, Black Widow was bitten by an actual black widow. Yeah, she was cool.”
“Okay,” Stephen said, interrupting. “What exactly do you know about the multiverse?”
Spidey chuckled like Stephen said something funny. “Honestly? Not much.”
“Tell me,” he started bluntly, not in the mood for any more insufferable quips. “Have you always been this annoying, or have you been practising?”
Peta seemed to ponder his hypothesis. Stephen could practically feel the cogs turning in that skull of hers. “I'd say there's definitely a correlation between me becoming Spidey Supreme and my general irritating demeanour, yeah. For sure.”
The cavalier nonchalance in which she delivered her self-discovery made Stephen want to yank his hair out prematurely.
As it was, his mind was concerned with more pressing matters. If this Spider-Man was truly the Sorcerer Supreme, then there could be any number of highly dangerous mystical beings who knew her identity, and if that was true then they would all be coming here.
“Who from your universe knows that Peta Parker is Spider-Man?”
Peta’s reply was clear and sharp: “No one.”
Stephen raised a brow. “No one, really?”
“They can’t,” she said, voice hard. “I made sure of it.”
Peter peeped up, tentative, “How?”
“Using the same spell you messed up to bring me here,” she explained.
“Let me get this straight,” Stephen interrupted, confused beyond belief at the impracticality behind such a manoeuvre. “You performed the Runes of Kof-Kol to intentionally make sure everybody forgot who Peta Parker was?”
“Yep.” Spidey’s affirmation was bestowed a casualness it did not deserve, and it irked Stephen to no end.
It was Peter who asked, “Why?”
Ruefully, she said, “That’s too long a story to get into.”
A brief pause followed. Until…
“Why do you sound like a guy if you’re a girl?” Peter phrased awkwardly, in what Stephen guessed was an attempt to restore the previous lightness.
Stephen was just about done with this whole thing. His hands itched, trembled, curled into fists. “It's an illusion,” he said flatly.
Peta was outraged. Arms gesticulating with a gracelessness unbecoming of a Sorcerer Supreme, she cried, “Woah, woah, woah, my dude. Whatever happened to not breaking the magician's code? Seriously, what are they teaching you in this universe?”
Incredulous, he was at a loss for words.
To Peter, she explained, “Well, when I started out as just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, I thought it would be easier to help hide my identity if everyone thought I was a different gender.”
“I see,” Peter said. It was clear he did not, in fact, see.
“Yeah. I made a vocal modulator and everything, I went all out. And then when I–” she took a deep breath, “found myself at Kamar-Taj training to become freakin’ Dumbledore, it became a lot easier to just keep up the illusion.”
“What’s Kamar-Taj?” Peter asked, hopelessly lost.
“Where all the broken people go,” Peta cheerfully said.
Stephen’s head turned sharply to this multiversal trespasser.
“It’s where the new recruits train,” she clarified, thankfully with a lot less sarcastic cheer. Stephen called dibs on the sarcasm; he earned it the hard way.
Peter's next genius move was to bring in reinforcements. Specifically, his best friend and his girlfriend.
Now, allegedly, Peter's best friend was Peta's sworn enemy in her universe, and had sold his soul to Dormammu. Here is what Peta had to say about the matter:
“Moral of the story: don't use dark magic, kids.”
Stephen gritted his teeth.
Oh, but that wasn't all. Peter and his companions dared Peta to reveal the coolest thing she had conjured with magic and the cooperation of the time stone.
Peta opened the Eye of Agamotto, and…
Conjured a sword using the power of the time stone.
“It’s metaphysics,” she explained proudly, almost posing with her Time Stone-enabled sword. Its green hue filled Stephen’s Sanctum with a vibrancy it hadn’t known since Thanos.
“Oh my god,” Peter’s friend exclaimed, repeatedly pointing at the conjured weapon. “It’s the Master Sword. From The Legend of Zelda.”
In contrast to the reactions of Peter and his chosen companions, Stephen was less than impressed at the presentation. The weight of his own Eye was keenly felt on his chest, hollow. “You have an infinity stone in your possession, and you use it for cheap tricks?”
Peta took personal insult at his disapproval. An affronted, “Woah, no hate. Like you said, I have an infinity stone in the palm of my hand; a mastery of time. That sorta responsibility requires a sword, man.” She crossed her arms, sword dissolving easily, bleeding back into the stone. “Besides, at least it’s not an ocarina.”
Oh. God, no.
“I’m sorry,” Stephen began slowly, unwilling to waste precious oxygen breathing life into a thought too terrible to mention. “Please don’t tell me you manipulated the Time Stone to replicate an ocarina.”
A brief silence ensued.
In that ephemeral state, Stephen felt his brain cells dying.
All at once, Spidey’s shoulders deflated. “Okay, I did. For like– three hours. But I couldn’t get the damn thing to hold a tune.”
An ocarina. A sorcerer variant of Spider-Man attempted to wield time in the form of an archaic woodwind instrument popularised by an interaction of a fantasy video game series.
Somewhere, Agamotto was rolling in his grave.
Spidey melted the red-and-blue illusion from her form, allowing Stephen to look at the woman who, in another life, was deemed worthy of the Sorcerer Supreme mantle.
Peta Parker was– young. Younger than he would have imagined, though when dealing with the mystic arts, looks weren't exactly a reliable indicator of age. Stephen had lived and died a thousand times at the bequest of Dormammu, and observed fourteen million failures against Thanos.
Then, he noticed a chain around Peta's neck. Simple and delicate, a gentle tug could snap the fragile infrastructure and send the metal falling to the ground. But what intrigued him was the golden ring hanging from the middle of it, dangling precariously at the precipice, the chain the only thing holding it back from the jaws of gravity.
Stephen pointed to the ring around her neck, and said, “Don't tell me you conjured up the One Ring through interdimensional manipulation.”
He meant it as a joke – a flat one, it had to be said, but still a joke – but Peta's expression changed. It wasn't sad, per se; it was more beautiful and melancholic, with a note of wistfulness.
Side-eyeing him, she simply said, “Maybe I'll tell you one day.” With a cheeky smile, she said, “You know, if we ever meet again.”
And maybe one day she would.