Peter WHY...

A week had slipped by since New Year's Eve 2002 turned into 2003, and Peter Parker still felt the glow of that night lingering in his bones. He and Liz Allan had rung in the year together, their Christmas Day date—a snowy whirlwind of sledding, skating, and a kiss under the Rockefeller Center tree—setting the tone for a holiday season that felt like a dream. 

New Year's had been just as wonderful, thanks to Harry Osborn, who'd thrown an awesome party at his family's swanky Manhattan apartment. Peter grinned at the memory as he swung through Queens, his red and black Spider-Man suit cutting through the crisp January air, the city sprawling beneath him in a patchwork of snow and lights.

The party had been a hit—students from Midtown High packed the place, music thumping from speakers, laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Harry, the host, had gone all out: streamers, a makeshift dance floor, even a punch bowl that Peter suspected was spiked by the end of the night. Liz had danced with Peter, her white sweater catching the glow of fairy lights, her laughter bright as they spun together. "Best New Year's ever," she'd whispered in his ear, her arms around his neck, and Peter had kissed her as the clock struck midnight, the room erupting in cheers around them.

But the night hadn't been perfect for everyone. Harry, flush with hosting glory, had hit the punch hard—too hard. By 1 a.m., he'd stumbled into the living room, eyes glassy, voice cracking as he slumped onto the couch beside Peter. "I couldn't find anyone," he'd slurred, tears streaking his face. "Winter formal's coming, and I'm gonna be alone—nobody wants to go with me."

Peter had blinked, caught off guard, and slid an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Hey, man, you're fine," he'd said, his tone gentle. "You don't need a date to rock that dance—Gwen's still out there, right? You've got time."

Harry had hiccupped, shaking his head. "She said no—everyone's paired up. I'm a loser, Pete." His words dissolved into a sob, and before Peter could say more, Harry's head lolled onto his lap, his breathing evening out as he passed out, drunk and exhausted. Peter had sighed, patting his friend's shoulder as Liz caught his eye from across the room, her smile soft with sympathy. Rough night for Harry, he'd thought, but he'll bounce back.

Now, a week into January, Peter was back in his element, swinging through the city on a late afternoon patrol. The snow from Christmas had mostly melted, leaving icy patches on rooftops and a chill that nipped at his fingers through the suit. New York buzzed below—early 2003 bringing a fresh wave of energy, holiday decorations still clinging to streetlights, citizens bustling through their routines. Peter's Spider-Man gig was in full swing, a side hustle he loved—helping people, stopping trouble before it spiraled out of control.

He'd already made a dent that day. Earlier, he'd webbed up a purse snatcher near Flushing Meadows, the guy slipping on ice mid-chase until Peter pinned him to a lamppost, the old lady thanking him with a shaky smile. Then, a fender bender on Queens Boulevard—two cars skidding into each other over a patch of black ice. Peter had swung in, pulling the drivers free and webbing the wreckage off the road before it turned into a pile-up, earning a grateful wave from a cop on scene. Little wins, he thought, launching another web line to a high-rise. Keeps the city breathing.

He landed lightly, boots crunching on the icy roof, when his spider-sense flared—a sharp, electric jolt that made him snap his head upward. Above, the sky fractured, a jagged crack splitting the clouds with a sickly green shimmer. What the hell is that? he thought, his pulse spiking as he stared at the anomaly. That's no weather glitch—this is trouble, and it's gonna be a tough one.

He narrowed his eyes, watching as the crack widened, the green light pulsing ominously. Then, a figure burst through—a beast on a glider, its sleek form cutting the air with a menacing hum. Peter's gut twisted as he recognized the shape: Green Goblin, his cackling grin glinting under the fading daylight, his glider banking sharply through the snow-dusted sky. 

Green Goblin? he thought, shock flooding him. What's he doing busting in like this?

Before he could react, another figure swung out of the crack on a web line—a second Spider-Man, clad in a sharp, unfamiliar red-and-blue suit, pursuing Goblin with relentless focus. 

Another Spider-Man? Peter's mind reeled, his heart pounding as he tracked the duo. This is insane—a crack in the sky, Goblin, and now a double?

His thoughts raced, piecing it together fast. Green Goblin on a glider, crashing through some kinda portal—that's no coincidence. He's here for my DNA, wants to juice himself up, make himself stronger. This is the event in the ultimate spiderman series....

 He eyed the other Spider-Man, swinging closer now, webbing after Goblin with precision. And that guy—he's chasing him, trying to stop him. Gotta be from wherever Goblin popped out of—tracking him to keep him from me. Peter's spider-sense screamed louder as Goblin veered toward him, the glider's engines roaring, green eyes locking on his position. He knows I'm here—perfect, he thought, crouching low, muscles coiling. DNA-hunting Goblin and another me—this just got real.

The crack in the sky pulsed wider, the air thrumming with unnatural energy, and Peter braced himself, his gaze darting between the Goblin's glider and the pursuing Spider-Man, ready for the chaos about to unfold in the snowy Queens dusk.