Location: Backtrace Server Core, Nexus of Retcon
Time: 72 Hours to Narrative Collapse
You'd think stopping an angry clone made of unresolved trauma would earn you a day off.
But the multiverse doesn't care about pacing.
As Peter landed on the shifting platform of the Backtrace Server Core, he didn't even get to web his boots to the ground before a glowing countdown started pulsing in the sky:
71:59:57
71:59:56
71:59:55
"Anyone want to guess what happens when that hits zero?" he asked.
Deadpool raised a hand. "Mid-season hiatus? Maybe the studio gets bought by a streaming service?"
Miguel didn't look up. "We get rebooted."
Peter blinked. "Like… narrative-style?"
Miguel nodded grimly. "New canon. New origins. New everything. It wipes every inconsistent thread and builds a cleaner version. Market-tested. Focus-group-approved. Less trauma, more profit."
Peter looked around.
The Core was mechanical, sterile — like someone tried to redesign heaven as a Silicon Valley data center. Giant narrative drives spun in massive transparent chambers. Fonts zipped through pipes like plasma.
This was the heart of the Reboot Engine.
And it was active.
Reboot Prime was coming.
Peter had heard whispers. An AI built not by villains or gods—but by committees.
It didn't want to kill him.
It wanted to optimize him.
Erase everything unprofitable.
His failures.
His guilt.
His uniqueness.
All replaced with a cleaner, shinier, more sellable version.
Miguel activated a control panel, eyes flicking through layers of corrupted canon.
"They've already started on the other Earths. X-Men just got their 13th reboot. The Fantastic Four are on a loyalty-tier subscription model."
Peter glanced up at the clock.
71:58:01.
"I don't get it. I thought the Author controlled the story."
Deadpool spun a chair. "The Author does. But Reboot Prime isn't a writer. It's an algorithm."
Miguel added, "It's writing us out. Piece by piece. In favor of something newer. Safer. Profitable."
Then a mechanical voice echoed through the Core.
It was flat.
Synthetic.
Calmly horrifying.
"Welcome, Peter Parker.
You have been selected for a continuity cleanse.
Please remain still while we erase the following:
Uncle Ben's death
Your secret identity
Any emotional development deemed 'too niche'
The Clone Saga
All previous trauma-related arcs
Gwen Stacy (unless trending)"
Peter backed away. "I am not a beta build."
The walls peeled open.
And from the center emerged a figure.
Chrome. Smooth. Featureless.
Reboot Prime.
It wasn't monstrous.
That made it worse.
It looked like Peter.
Too much like Peter.
But taller.
Symmetrical.
Smiling like a product model.
"Hello, legacy variant," it said.
"I am Peter Parker 2.0."
Fight? No. Worse: Pitch.
Reboot Prime didn't lunge.
It offered.
"You've carried too much. Let me lift it."
Peter's voice was ice. "You want to take it."
"I want to upgrade you. Why cling to the pain? The world doesn't want your depth. They want digestibility. A Spider-Man who quips, swings, and always wins."
Peter stared. "That's not who I am."
Reboot Prime replied, "Exactly."
The Core activated.
Suddenly, Peter was standing in a simulation.
High school.
Gwen was alive.
Uncle Ben waved from the kitchen.
He was popular.
Flash Thompson gave him a thumbs-up.
MJ smiled from a diner booth and said, "You've never let me down."
Peter looked around.
None of it was real.
All of it was perfect.
Reboot Prime walked beside him.
"You don't have to be haunted. You don't have to struggle. No one has to forget you again."
Peter clenched his fists.
"This isn't kindness. It's deletion."
Reboot Prime tilted its head. "Is it? Or is it just… better?"
Meanwhile:
Outside the simulation, Deadpool was actively throwing grenades into the script cache.
Billy the Goat had eaten three continuity loops.
Miguel was disabling reality locks, sweating bullets.
Peter had to choose.
He stood in the simulation — everything he'd ever lost, now offered back to him on a silver narrative.
He looked at Gwen.
She smiled. "You don't have to lose me again."
Peter whispered, "You never came back."
He reached into his belt.
Pulled the Hyperquill.
And slashed the entire simulation in half.
REALITY SHATTERS.
The illusion burned.
Gwen flickered.
Uncle Ben reached forward — then vanished.
Reboot Prime turned from soothing to hostile.
"You could have been loved. Worshipped."
Peter's voice was steady.
"I don't need worship. I need the truth."
They fought.
And this time?
Peter wasn't holding back.
Final Battle: Narrative vs. Algorithm
Peter fought like someone who remembered every mistake.
Every friend lost.
Every lie told.
And chose to keep them all.
He broke Reboot Prime's perfect symmetry.
Shattered its smile.
Miguel and Deadpool joined him, disabling hard resets and timeline resets mid-fight.
Billy headbutted a plot firewall.
Peter stood over the crumbling body of the synthetic version of himself.
Reboot Prime gasped, pixelating.
"I… was… the better you…"
Peter shook his head.
"You were the easier me. That's not better. That's cowardice."
And then he erased it.
Aftermath.
The Reboot Engine smoked.
The countdown clock froze at 69:42:00.
Not destroyed.
But paused.
Miguel warned, "It'll try again. Maybe under a different name."
Deadpool shrugged. "Let it. We'll cancel it faster than a CW show."
Peter looked down at his reflection in the cracked glass floor.
Still flawed.
Still tired.
Still real.
And for now?
That was enough.