Chapter 116 - 116

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….

"Loki. Just a God... Wait a minute, a pig? Not a spider?"

"Nah," he waved a hand dismissively, "I started out as a spider. I could cling to almost any surface and spin webs, but then a radioactive pig bit me, and I gained Super-Porcine Powers!"

"Hmm... I know I'm probably going to regret this, but what exactly does that entail?"

"Well, you already know about the anvil and the mallet somehow. I can also fly, guided by the scent of a fresh pie!"

"O-o-okay..." I turned to the others, firmly deciding to gather information first and try to comprehend and accept it all later. "And you?"

"Peter Parker, 1933. Private investigator. I like to drink Egg Creams and fight Nazis," introduced the black-and-white Spider-Man, wearing a leather trench coat over his suit... his coat tails flapping as if caught in a strong wind. And he smelled like rain. Damn, what a stylish bastard!

"Nice to meet you," I shook his hand as well.

"Peni Parker. I'm from the year 3145. I have a psychic link with a spider that lives inside my father's robot; we're best friends forever!" She patted the steel behemoth, which responded by displaying a barrage of hearts on the screen serving as its face.

How interesting... It seems my theory regarding Peter's innate abilities just received another, albeit indirect, confirmation. Psionics...

Alright, fine, so what if it's a robot operated by a spider that theoretically shouldn't even have enough brain mass to possess self-awareness?

After all, this girl walked straight out of a 90s anime; weirder crap happened in those shows.

And anyway, maybe the spider is just a "mediator" for the girl herself, a sort of crutch to provide psychological comfort while she controls the robot via a telepathic interface...

"So what about you, pal?" the Noir Spider addressed me again. "What kind of Spider are you? You said something about being a God, but I didn't quite catch it."

"I am not a Spider. I am simply a God from Asgard. In my world, I moonlight as a teacher at a school for mutants, researching the nature of mutation as a hobby. I was studying a sample of Peter Parker's blood when I got sucked into your universe. By the way, has anyone managed to figure out what's going on here yet?"

"In a manner of speaking," the detective answered. "It's all because of him." He walked over to a transparent "board" covered with half a dozen photographs, connected by lines mapping out relationships and contacts.

And right in the center of it all was a portrait of... um...

"A bowling ball hopped up on steroids?" Granted, I had a few suspicions upon seeing that... um... face, but hey, why not? Judging by this photo, a literal bowling ball was a perfectly viable, perhaps even primary, suspect.

"That's Wilson Fisk, alias the Kingpin," MJ answered. "Peter crossed paths with him many times and thwarted his plans. But unfortunately, he never managed to gather enough evidence tying him to the criminal underworld. With his connections and lawyers, Fisk always walked away clean."

"Ah, should've just shot him myself and been done with it," Spider-Noir sighed.

Oh Great Powers, is it true? A rational Peter Parker who doesn't obsess over "official justice" and just whacks his enemies on the spot?

"Damn, the 1930s really were glorious," I sighed.

"Not in every respect, my friend. Not in every respect," he replied, dramatically adjusting his fedora and turning his "back to the wind."

The magical gir, I mean, the girl with the robot, was strongly against such radical measures. You know, justice, the law, and the Magic of Friendship. The pig didn't care; he somehow caught the scent of May Parker's pie and literally started levitating! Ahem... yeah, this crew is even crazier than I am!

Be that as it may, it was clear where we needed to dig.

The only question was: do we go beat the information out of Fisk right now, or try rummaging through the local Peter's databases first? I might find something interesting.

Considering we have a genuine gateway between universes here, I am extremelyinterested in that technology, and I'd very much like to know where it's located.

Oh, and I'm also deeply curious about why all this stuff with the windblown trench coat and pie-scented levitation actually works.

Must investigate! More experiments are required! The main thing is to convince the test subjects that everything is above board, I mean, that they want, that they crave, to hand themselves over to my experiments. Yes, I definitely know what I'll be doing tonight!

The easiest part remains: starting and finishing.

A-and... since proposing that my new acquaintances hop onto an operating table right off the bat might not be the best idea, we'll start with item number one.

Specifically, reviewing the late Spider-Man's databases. Peter here was clearly a savvy guy, meaning he wouldn't go charging in blindly.

And, as was easy to guess, his Noir counterpart was only studying the chart featuring the "steroid bowling ball"; the Parker of this universe had put it together.

That meant a reconnaissance operation had been conducted. And I very much wanted to take a closer look at its results. Let's get to it.

"So, Mrs. Parker, you wouldn't happen to know your husband's system login and password, would you?"

"No, I'm sorry," Mary Jane shook her head. "As I said, Peter tried to keep me away from his work."

"What about that lovely elderly lady?" the black-and-white detective inquired.

"Aunt May?" The girl pondered. "Maybe..."

"I'll go check, oink!" the Pig declared, instantly floating even higher, almost in the finest Superman tradition. Yeah, something tells me he's more interested in the pie than getting the system login.

"Did you guys try turning the computer on yourselves?" I asked, watching him float away before turning to the remaining Parkers from parallel realities.

"This contraption is unknown to me," Spider-Noir stated dramatically.

"My passwords don't work," the anime girl shook her head, and a sad-guilty emoticon popped up on her robot's face-screen.

"Gotcha... We'll wait, then."

Our fellow "isekai" victim was gone for about ten minutes, during which I allowed myself to play tourist and have a good look around.

The pig returned not alone, but with the combat pensioner, who was pushing a cart bearing a massive pie, plates, silverware, and a pitcher of fruit punch or something similar.

"I brought you some food, figured you probably hadn't eaten properly," the old lady cast a reproachful look at the redheaded beauty.

Very briefly, and clearly not wanting her to notice, but I noticed. "I fed Peter like this so often, he'd always forget to eat with all his work," she sighed, a note of sorrow and fraying nerves creeping into her voice. She even turned away slightly, clearly trying to hide welling tears.

Mary Jane immediately rushed to the woman, trying to comfort her somehow, but my two lifetimes of experience suggested we were highly likely to end up with a collective crying session here.

Understandable, but completely inappropriate right now. Besides, strange associations about Alfred losing his Bruce Wayne were popping into my head. Time to create a distraction.

"Thank you, but please allow us to taste your wonderful dish a little later. Right now... you wouldn't happen to know the password to Mr. Parker's computer, would you?"

…

If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.

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