Chapter 113 - 113

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….

In the end, it turned out to be even simpler. In the wake of Spidey's death, his widow was holding a press conference, an event being screamed about by every toaster on every street corner.

By "toasters," I mean the massive holographic projectors splashing news across the sides of buildings, and the touch-screen smartphones clutched in everyone's hands.

There were a lot of them, by the way. A hell of a lot more than in my New York.

But I only noted that in the back of my mind. I was much more concerned with figuring out whether throwing this public spectacle was actually a smart move.

Then again, what do I know about their relationship? Besides, from what I could gather, Peter was a pretty massive deal around here.

Because of that, it really was better to take control and steer "public opinion" surrounding his death right out of the gate, rather than letting conspiracy theorists, bleeding hearts, and other vultures swoop in to chase clout on a trending tragedy.

So, having successfully navigated my way to the venue, I slipped through the crowd closer to the stage.

I quietly endured the standard, cookie-cutter speech about the virtues of the deceased and what a colossal loss this was for the city and the world. Once it wrapped up, I tailed the redhead back to her place.

Speaking of which, the Mary Jane from this particular "cartoon" wasn't exactly a knockout, even with the inherent bonus of being animated.

You couldn't call her ugly by any stretch, but she lost out on all fronts compared to her 90s animated series counterpart. She definitely didn't look the part of a top-tier supermodel or actress, which is what the classic Mary Jane is supposed to be. She was just a reasonably cute, adult woman with fiery red hair.

And that struck me as a little weird. I mean, sure, the Cinematic Universe makes sense, I'm already used to the fact that that particular reality is built on the feminist complexes of loud, unattractive idiots demanding that movies and video games feature "real women" (who, in practice, look like total swamp monsters, just so those idiots can look good by comparison).

As if all beautiful actresses and pretty girls aren't "real," but are actually voiceless cyborgs manufactured in a factory somewhere.

But that was exactly what was so weird! This world definitely wasn't built like that.

In my relatively short time here, I'd already confirmed that you could run into beautiful girls right out on the street without any problem.

Sure, they were still a minority, but damn it, here you could rightfully call every seventh woman beautiful, rather than having a grand total of two or three knockouts in the entire universe!

How long I had dreamed of this! Finally, a place where there's actually someone to rest your eyes on! And not just your eyes!

My hands just itch to reach out! The black characters, though, were clearly drawn as an afterthought, some of those monstrosities could give even the residents of the MCU a run for their money.

But I digress. The point is, given these parameters, the fact that the very same Mary Jane who serves as practically the ultimate sex symbol of Spider-Man lore (Black Cat sits entirely outside the rankings, obviously!) was decidedly mid-tier here was genuinely bizarre.

And no, I know how to distinguish the signs of a woman who is heartbroken and therefore not looking her best, from someone who just doesn't look her best in general, as in, not universal sex-symbol material.

Which led me to suspect that feminists had gotten their claws into this universe as well.

Yep, it had to be them, those hysterical Twitch-streaming landwhales and other gender-ambiguous weirdos who don't actually give a shit about anyone but themselves, hiding behind noble slogans.

They are out to defile the pure, radiant images that true men have held in our hearts since childhood!

Someday, I swear, I'm going to return to my home world and just kill all humans!... Ahem.

Interdimensional travel is doing weird things to me. Here I am again, contemplating digging a navigable shipping canal between Mexico and Canada purely because my aesthetic sensibilities were insulted, and I'm practically failing to see anything psychotic about the idea.

I really need to do something about this. Otherwise, the moment I figure out how to travel the multiverse at will, I'm genuinely going to go back and kill everyone. I've already brainstormed so many ways to do it...

MJ, meanwhile, wrapped up her goodbyes with the officials and the general mourners, got into a car, and a few minutes later arrived at an apartment building in a fairly nice neighborhood.

No drama there either: she walked in, locked the door, kicked off her shoes and coat, washed off her makeup, and sank into an armchair.

A framed photo of Parker and a bottle of wine took up residence next to her on the coffee table. With a heavy sigh, the woman cracked the bottle and began pouring herself a glass.

"I apologize for interrupting your private wake for your husband, but I really need to speak with you," I said, dropping the illusion and revealing myself sitting in the adjacent armchair.

"You... who are you?" MJ flinched, but pulled herself together remarkably fast. She didn't scream, didn't panic, didn't lash out aggressively, though fear clearly threaded through her voice.

"My story is going to sound strange, but as the wife of Spider-Man, you ought to be used to weirdness by now. I hope you'll take me seriously." I waited for a cautious nod before continuing.

"Long story short, I'm from a parallel universe. To be precise, I was yanked through some sort of portal while studying Peter Parker's blood."

"Studying his blood?" the woman frowned. Strangely, she seemed to believe me almost instantly. Yeah, you could definitely see the experience showing.

"Yes," I shrugged, reflexively twirling my cane between my fingers. "I work as a teacher at a school for 'gifted youngsters' and was examining the data of a potential student of mine."

"My husband is a little past school-age..."

"In your universe, sure. But in mine, Peter Parker is only eight years old. He hasn't become Spider-Man yet, and there's no guarantee he ever will."

"Wait just a minute." Her frown deepened, and she visibly tensed up even more. "You don't look surprised by the fact that Peter is Spider-Man. I get the feeling you've known that for a while, yet you just said he's still a child where you're from. And by the way, polite people introduce themselves at the start of a conversation!"

"Bravo, Mrs. Parker. Bravo." She might not be a knockout by my standards, but she was sharp, no doubt about it!

"But don't worry, it's all quite mundane. The thing is, the existence of parallel realities isn't a secret to me.

Some worlds are as alike as two drops of water, while others are as different as night and day. Discrepancies in timelines, political structures, good and evil, even the laws of physics. It all actually exists.

"And as it happens, I am privy to a number of events in realities outside my own. In some cases my knowledge is extensive, in others more fragmented, but I know exactly who Spider-Man is, and I know that in most realities, his name is Peter Parker.

Though, I am also aware of at least one reality where you are the one who gets spider powers. As for my name... I am Loki. The God of Magic."

"Seriously? An actual, literal God?" She arched an eyebrow.

In response, I conjured an illusion of violet flame upon the table. It blossomed into a flower, lingered for a moment, then shattered into ice crystals and melted into the air.

"Something like that."

…

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