"Mr. Ranger." Peter asked, his voice a mixture of awe and profound disbelief, his masked lenses wide as he stared at the spot where the Bifrost had vanished, "did we just… threaten and blackmail the literal essence of the universe… and win?" He paced back and forth, a nervous energy thrumming through him. "Is that even ethical? From what Thor said, the Enigma Force is, like, a fundamental balancing factor of the universe, maybe even the multiverse! Are we even doing the right thing here? Wouldn't it, you know, hold a grudge? I really don't want the universe itself holding a grudge against me. I get enough of that from J. Jonah Jameson."
Ranger didn't turn to face him. His gaze wandered across the magnificent, if slightly scorched, gardens of Castle Doom, finally settling on a distant, ornate door. "Yes, Peter." he replied, his voice calm, almost detached. "We did indeed blackmail the essence of the universe, one of the primary forces that maintains a semblance of balance in this chaotic multiverse. And as for whether it is the 'right' thing to do…" He sighed, a sound of ancient weariness. "Peter, in the grand, often brutal, calculus of existence, the concepts of 'right' and 'wrong' are luxuries. They are fluid, subjective constructs that rarely survive contact with necessity. I will not tell you this was right, nor will I say it was wrong. But it needed to be done."
"But why does it need to be done?" Peter pressed, his voice earnest, filled with the genuine confusion of a kid who simply wanted to save as many lives as he could. "Why can't we just leave the King in Black be? From what I learned from Venom, he's in some kind of super-max cosmic prison with no chance of escape, at least not any time soon, right? Can't we just… wait? Prepare?"
Ranger respected that youthful idealism, that inherent goodness. But respect was all it was. "Because, Peter Parker." he said, turning to face him, his eyes holding a cold, hard clarity, "he needs to die. Because I want him dead. And it is only a matter of time before he escapes. So why not attack first? Why not excise the tumor now, rather than leaving it to fester and metastasize, forcing our future selves to deal with a far more virulent, widespread catastrophe?" Ranger gave Peter's head a small, almost paternal slap. "Besides, we aren't fighting him on Earth, but in the cold vacuum of outer space. So, fewer people will die."
Peter rubbed his head, his mind reeling. "Space? Wait, we aren't fighting him in Dr. Doom's turf?"
"No, we aren't." Ranger confirmed with a dismissive shrug. "We are fighting him in his own hometown. Or his prison. Whatever you wish to call it." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Oh, and you will be one of the main forces in this engagement. At least, when it comes to taking down his grunts."
"What do you mean, 'main forces'?!" Peter yelped, jumping back as if he'd been zapped. "I'm just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! I can't handle space, much less the grunts of the literal King in Black! Can't we… can't we call the New Avengers? Or the Sorcerer Supreme? Or the mutants, or even the Fantastic Four? They might be able to handle this situation a lot better than I can! At least, I think so. I can't even breathe in space! So, can you maybe ask Dr. Doom to whip up a portal and let me go back home? My aunt and MJ are waiting for me. I promised I'd be back for dinner."
"Spider-Boy, you are not going anywhere." A slow, predatory smile spread across Ranger's lips, his teeth shining in the dim Latverian light. "Besides, none of the teams you so helpfully mentioned would be willing to join an expedition led by myself and Doctor Doom. Some, like your esteemed Captain America, think of me as villains. Supervillains, even." He chuckled.
"Others are far too preoccupied with their own preparations for the coming World War to concern themselves with a distant, hypothetical cosmic threat. Kid, think of this as your graduation test. A final exam, if you will. If you survive this fight, you will graduate from being Spider-Boy to being Spider-Man. In my eyes, and in Doom's. Even, perhaps, in Thor's."
"Really?!" A hopeful, half-executed backflip came out of nowhere, but Peter's confidence faltered mid-air, and he landed in a clumsy heap. He scrambled back to his feet, dusting himself off. "Wha… what do you mean by 'survive'?"
"Exactly what you think it means." Ranger stated, his voice devoid of any comforting warmth. "The grunts you will be fighting are not the common street thugs, the Hand ninjas, or even the occasional misguided scientist-turned-lizard you are accustomed to. These are killing machines, Peter. Biological constructs designed for the singular purpose of slaughter, born from a void of pure, malevolent darkness. They are far more dangerous, far more lethal, than anything you have yet encountered."
The words landed like physical blows. Peter's bravado evaporated, replaced by a raw, chilling fear. "I… I… I…" he stammered, his voice trembling. "Can I go back home? Please? This is… this is way above my paygrade." The plea was quiet, almost desperate. "Aunt May… she only has me. She'll be so sad if I die."
"I suppose I forgot to mention a crucial detail." Ranger said, his tone shifting, becoming more serious, more direct. "The King in Black, our target… he will, with a high degree of probability, attack Earth. Let's say, in about eleven years five months and eighteen hours, maximum. It might be tomorrow, or it might be in a decade. But the chances are high, he will come. After all." Ranger's eyes seemed to look through Peter, into some distant memory, "he has been preparing. You have seen the dragon you and Doom went and brought back with you, have you not? That dragon was nothing but one of his first soldiers, a scout. A powerful one but still a scout. He can make more. Billions more. And besides." Ranger's gaze sharpened, "he already has Earth's coordinates from the scout."
Peter's fists tightened at his sides, the consequences of that long-ago battle suddenly crashing down on him with a new, terrifying weight.
"And when he does attack." Ranger continued, his voice a relentless, logical hammer, "even if he comes alone, people will die. Not in the dozens, or hundreds. In the millions. The billions, even with all the super-powered people we have on this planet. It would be, by any rational metric, an extinction-class event."
"So, tell me, Peter Parker." Ranger's voice was soft now, but it cut deeper than any shout. "The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Do you wish for that to happen? Do you wish for the world you, and the ones you care about, live in to die, to be consumed by darkness, simply because you were afraid to be in the fight? Tell me, Parker."
A solemnity, heavy and profound, settled over the garden.
Peter Parker took a deep, shuddering breath. His hands, trembling, tightened around his mask as he thought of everything. The warm, comforting smell of Aunt May's wheat-cakes. The sound of Uncle Ben's laughter, a fading but cherished echo in his memory. The way MJ's eyes sparkled when she smiled, a universe of wit and affection just for him. His friends. His neighborhood. His city. He raised his head, his masked lenses meeting Ranger's unyielding gaze.
"I will fight." The words were quiet, but they resonated with an unshakeable conviction.
"Even if it means you will die?" Ranger pressed, his voice a cold, testing probe. "Even if it means the world will never know of your sacrifice? Even if it means you might be captured, tormented by the King in Black for all of eternity?" Question after question, each one designed to erode, to find a weakness.
Yet, they did not deter the kid. Even with his face hidden, Ranger could feel the shift, the hardening of his resolve. The determination that radiated from him was palpable. The kid would fight. Even if it was until his bones turned to dust.
And his reply did not disappoint.
"I WILL FIGHT." he declared, his voice clear now, ringing with a newfound strength. "Not for fame. Not for wealth. Not for myself. But for the ones I care about."
"Good, kid." A rare, genuine smile touched Ranger's lips. "Now you look like a Man in my eyes. So, here's a gift for you."
An ultralink drone, sleek and silver, flew from Ranger's wrist, merging with Spider-Man's suit with a soft, almost organic hiss. The familiar red and blue fabric seemed to flow and ripple as the ultralink expanded, molding itself to his form, integrating with the existing material. Peter let out a small "Ah" of surprise as a wave of cool energy washed over him. When it was done, there were no noticeable changes, not at first glance. It looked like his normal suit, just newer, more polished, the colors a fraction deeper.
"In your lenses, you will now find a heads-up display with multiple operational modes." Ranger explained. "Kill mode, which I trust you will have the wisdom not to use unless absolutely necessary. Speed mode, Flight mode, Strength mode, and a reinforced Defense mode. The ultralink has also modified your web-shooters. They are now semi-sentient and will only require a source of raw materials to produce web fluid. Meaning, when you run out of your current supply, the shooters will ingest rocks, dirt, anything, and convert it into webbing with additional properties depending on what it has ingested." Ranger watched as Spider-Man, giddy and happy, cycled through the new modes, his suit shifting, glowing, and reconfiguring with each mental command. "And it has a dedicated AI, just for you. Oh, and did I forget to mention that it can help you survive in space?"
Peter jumped, forgetting all his earlier fear, and threw his arms around Ranger in a fierce hug. "This is the best suit upgrade since I switched from the hoodie! Thank you, Mr. Ranger! Thank you so much!"
Ranger let the hug last a moment longer than he normally would have, then pulled Peter off him by his shirt and held him at arm's length. "No need to get mushy with me, kid. We will be going to fight in an hour."
The words brought Peter crashing back to reality. "Oi, kid, no need to look so sad." Ranger said, nudging him. "Go and play with your new modes in the garden. Break stuff. Test everything. Because you will be directly on the field next, and I would prefer you know how to use your new toys before the real battle begins."
"Wouldn't Dr. Doom be angry if I break his stuff? And ask me to pay?" Peter's voice was filled with a genuine, almost comical concern. "Mr. Ranger, I really don't have the money."
"He is Doom." Ranger said, a grin returning to his face. "Doom does not care for small destructions, nor does he care for the little money you possess. Besides, if you can make an even bigger mess, if you can show a true mastery of your new capabilities, it will show Doom what you are capable of. And there is one thing Doom respects above all else: it's capable people."
"Are you sure of bringing the kid with us?" a deep, rumbling voice spoke from behind. Ranger didn't turn. He just watched as Spider-Man, now in flight mode, tentatively hovered a few feet off the ground, whooping with delight. "As valiant and as worthy as he is, even at this young age, I do not believe he possesses the mental fortitude to fight in a war of this magnitude. At least, not yet."
Ranger didn't turn as he watched Spider-Man try out his modes. "Thor Odinson. Were it not because you were the easier option to get to the Enigma Force, you wouldn't even be here. The boy is mine and Doom's first choice to bring to battle. You are not even the fifth."
"Besides." he continued, his voice taking on a softer, more contemplative tone, "He will do just fine. No, He will do even better than you ever could."
Thor looked at Ranger, his brow furrowed in confusion. "And why do you think so, mortal? He is just a child even if he has the spark with him."
"Simple." Ranger replied, his gaze still fixed on the joyous, flying figure of Spider-Man. "Because he cares. And he inspires. He cares enough to be willing to change the world. And he inspires the world to want to change with him."
"Because that's Spider-Man — not a god, not a king, just a man with a heart big enough to stand where titans fall."