Somewhere outside of time.
Court is in session.
The Multiversal Tribunal of Narrative Integrity, or MTNI, was founded after the third Great Timeline Collapse (which was ironically caused by someone editing an origin story to avoid taxes). The courtroom floats in a dimension that has never made a plot hole — though it has successfully contained several.
Today, its chambers are packed.
Not with spectators, but with Variants — versions of people from all across the timelines. At least four Deadpools (including one made of bees), a Doctor Strange with a top hat and three monocles, and several Spider-Men — none of whom recognize Peter.
He sits alone at the defense bench.
In a borrowed suit. With a coffee stain.
Waiting.
A gavel bangs.
BOOM.
The Honorable Judge Janus the Dual-Faced, an ancient time-being with one face aging forward and the other backward, scowls from the bench. His voice sounds like a narrator who's grown tired of his own story.
"Court calls to order. The case of The Multiverse vs. Peter Parker, aka 'Spider-Man.'"
Peter stands.
Deadpool barges in, dressed in a glittery tuxedo and carrying a briefcase full of pudding cups. "Sorry I'm late, Your Honor. I was in a side story."
Janus sighs. "You are not a lawyer."
"I am today," Deadpool says. "Multiversal Bar Exam: passed via interpretive dance. Look it up."
Janus does. Somehow, he finds the file. He sighs again. "Very well."
Prosecutor: Madame Archive.
A sentient AI composed entirely of corrupted TVA logs. She appears as a glowing mass of redacted documents and glitchy flowcharts.
She begins.
"Peter Parker is an unsanctioned narrative constant. After being erased from collective memory, he reinserted himself into continuity via unauthorized heroism, emotional persistence, and sheer meme resilience. This has caused:"
Six timeline fractures
Three canonical duplicates
One metaphysical goat uprising
Madame Archive's screen flashes an image of Peter comforting a kid post-Kang-fortress-collapse.
"Evidence of continued relevance," she hisses. "Deliberate. Disruptive."
Peter steps forward. "I didn't ask to be remembered. I just did the right thing."
She glares. "And you are aware this makes you dangerous."
The tribunal murmurs.
A Kang Variant in the gallery chuckles smugly.
Deadpool elbows Peter. "Don't worry. I've watched every courtroom drama. Ever. Including the Muppets one."
Peter mutters, "That wasn't—"
"Shh. Trust the process."
Deadpool stands.
"I would like to call a witness to the stand."
Janus narrows his dual gaze. "Who?"
Deadpool grins. "Spider-Man."
Everyone groans.
"Not this Spider-Man," Wade clarifies. "I mean the Spider-Man from Earth-928 — aka, Miguel O'Hara. He's on break from screaming at time ghosts."
A portal opens. Miguel O'Hara steps through, tired, sharp-eyed, and 100% not in the mood.
Janus frowns. "Proceed."
Deadpool walks Miguel through a slide deck labeled 'The Heroism of Being Forgotten: A Case Study.'
Peter cringes the entire time.
But Miguel surprises him.
"This Peter is a fixed narrative point," Miguel says. "He doesn't just bend the canon — he anchors it. You erase him, and you erase the lesson that comes with him."
Deadpool bows. "Poetic, right?"
Madame Archive glitches. "Irrelevant. The Loom is destabilizing. He's the thread unraveling it."
That's when Billy the Goat walks into the courtroom.
Wearing a necktie.
Holding the Continuity Card Peter found after Kang's defeat.
Billy presents it.
Everyone gasps.
It reads:
Parker, Peter B. — Narrative Validated. No deletions pending.
Madame Archive hisses. "Forgery!"
The Loom flickers in mid-air projection. A new web lights up.
And in it — Peter.
Recognized.
Not as a variant.
Not as a mistake.
But as a narrative anchor.
The courtroom shakes.
A ripple of golden energy blasts out of the walls.
The tribunal members look around in panic.
"What is this?" Janus demands.
Peter's spider-sense surges.
Wade yells, "Oh great, new Act just dropped!"
The ceiling of reality rips open.
Descending from a chasm of absolute silence is a cloaked figure.
No face. No form. Just… script.
Lines of dialogue trail from its robes. Every step it takes echoes like a deleted scene.
Madame Archive collapses into static.
Deadpool drops his briefcase. "Ohhh no. That's not a writer. That's a Redactor."
Peter gulps. "What's that?"
Wade whispers, "A being that doesn't correct canon — it erases it. Not for balance. Not for reason. Just… to trim the fat."
The Redactor lifts a hand.
From the Loom, threads start disappearing.
One.
By one.
Entire subplots vanish.
Variants turn to dust.
The courtroom becomes a meta graveyard.
Janus stands. "You cannot interfere with active proceedings!"
The Redactor responds in one word.
"Irrelevant."
Peter grabs Billy.
"We need to stop it."
Deadpool: "What, you want to fight an edit function?!"
Peter nods. "We'll do what I always do."
Wade blinks. "Which is?"
Peter slaps a webline into the Loom. "Improvise."
He swings up, dodging story fragments and collapsing tropes. He grabs a dying subplot (a romantic tension between Gwenpool and a toaster) and uses it as a slingshot.
Deadpool follows, dual-wielding two rejected fan theories like pistols.
Billy, miraculously, glows — emitting raw story energy.
Peter lands on the Redactor's back.
"No more," he says, pressing the Continuity Card into the being's chest.
The Redactor stops.
The courtroom stabilizes.
Janus gasps. "What have you done?"
Peter exhales. "Reminded the story why it matters."
The Redactor vanishes.
The Loom pulses.
Billy sneezes sparkles.
Deadpool wipes dust off his tux. "Objection: overruled."
Peter smiles.
For the first time in days, he feels real.
Janus rises. "The court recognizes Peter Parker as… an unremovable constant. Case dismissed. Do not return."
Deadpool waves. "We'll be back by lunch."
Back on Earth-199999
The sky is blue.
Peter sits on a rooftop.
Watching the city breathe.
No fanfare. No memory restored.
Just peace.
Deadpool lands beside him, holding churros.
Peter asks, "Do you think it's over?"
Wade munches. "Nah. But we bought some time."
Peter nods.
Then looks down at his phone.
A message has appeared.
Not a text.
A story notification.
From an account called THE WEAVER.
Message reads:
"Next: The Originals Awaken. Threads will snap. Prepare."
Peter sighs. "Knew it was too quiet."
Deadpool hands him a churro.
"Time to keep swinging."