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MISADVENTURES IN PARADISE
iv. PETER'S BRIGHT IDEA

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   FOR A WHILE, THE thought of a fresh start sounded sensible.

   They were so used to praying and hoping for some ultra-specific happy ending over and over again, but, as Roman said, a fresh start could mean anything. A fresh start symbolized the promise that things would change. Theirs was months away, but it was coming nonetheless. It was their only light at the end of the tunnel — at least until Riley managed to clear Peter's name.

   Their situation wasn't ideal, but they were hopeful.

   But then the college rejections started coming in.

   When the first one came, Peter said, "It's okay. It's a backup school."

   When the second came, again, he said, "It's okay. That one had a low acceptance rate anyway."

   When the rejection letter from Columbia arrived, Riley might've been more upset than Peter was. Tony, on the other hand, gloated in her face.

   "Columbia is an Ivy League school!" Riley argued.

   "Everybody knows the real Ivies are the holy trinity," Tony said. "Harvard, Yale, and Princeton."

   "One, Princeton isn't even a real school. It literally sounds like it came out of a fairytale book! Two, you're just mad because we all know Morgan's going to Columbia, not MIT."

   "And which is Mr. Parker's dream school again? What's that? Oh, right. MIT."

   "Use my boyfriend against me one more time, and you're banned from seeing him!"

   To which Peter and Tony gasped, "No!"

   The argument eventually ended with Peter saying the same thing as before: It's okay. He seemed like he was holding himself together, but Riley saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes dim every time he, Ned, and MJ received another rejection letter. Every letter had the same excuse. In light of recent controversy, we are unable to consider your application at this time. It was one after another until November when the dreaded MIT letter came in the mail. The last one.

   Riley sat at the counter of the donut shop MJ worked at part-time. It was quaint, with Halloween decorations still strewn along the walls. With everything going on, the last thing Riley expected to be shaken by were some plastic decorations, but she couldn't help that they reminded her so much of Billy and Tommy. It seemed stupid, mourning people who never existed, who she only knew for about a week, but she'd subconsciously begun to associate Halloween with the Maximoffs, and that made celebrating the holiday this year more difficult than she anticipated.

   Luckily, Peter, Ned, and MJ were too distracted with their gut-wrenching nerves (and Roman was too busy feeling their nerves) to notice how intensely she was staring at the wizard lights strung behind the counter. They gripped their letters with iron fists. This was it. Their last lifeline.

   "Okay," MJ said, her pastel uniform failing to obscure the dread on her face. "Ready?"

   "Jones!" her manager yelled. "I told you to take down the Halloween decorations."

   "Actually, that was Sasha, so—"

   "Enough attitude. Just do it," he ordered before disappearing into the back of the store.

   MJ swallowed her sigh. "...On it."

   "I feel like I'm gonna puke," Ned grimaced.

   "Well, don't because he will just make me clean it," MJ timidly said.

   "This is our only shot," he continued. "It's here or nowhere."

   Peter flinched. "Hey, come on."

   "Look, no matter what those letters say... You know, you... Just... You can always..." Roman jutted his lip. "Yeah, I got nothing. Riley? ...Riley?"

   Her head snapped aside. "What? Did you open them?"

   "You okay?" Peter asked knowingly.

   Riley's gaze wandered back to the wizard lights. "Just tired." Which was true. She hadn't gotten a full night's rest in months. Maybe she wouldn't have felt so vulnerable looking at decorations, of all things, if she wasn't working on this case so diligently. Between helping Happy and her mom with the new Stark Industries scandals, she was exhausted. "I'm kinda out of motivational speeches right now. Just open them."

   "Okay, on three," MJ said. "One... Two... Three."

   The emptiness of the shop served as an echo chamber as the papers rustled. Riley gawked almost unblinkingly between each of her friends, waiting.

   MJ soon shook her head. "No," she whispered.

   "No," Peter mumbled. "You?"

   "In light of recent controversy," Ned weakly read aloud, "we are unable to consider your application at this time."

   "This is so not fair. I mean, this is so not fair!" Peter insisted. "I didn't do anything wrong. You guys definitely didn't do anything wrong!"

   "This is bullshit. These are the same institutions that protect rapists and racists for hush money, but, what, they're not going to let you in because of a baseless controversy?" Riley scoffed. "There has to be something we can do. I can make a call. Tony can—"

   "I think I'd feel worse if the only reason I got into college was because I know a guy," MJ muttered. "Expect disappointment, and you will never get disappointed."

   The bells on the door jingled as Flash Thompson, clad in an MIT hoodie, suddenly burst into the shop, singing, "NO SLEEP TILL... BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! BOSTON!" His smile waned once he realized the anguish on the group's faces. "You guys didn't get in?"

   "Yeah," Ned snapped, "because we're actually friends with Spider-Man."

   "Uh... Yeah, I better get going..." Flash peeked at his watch, awkwardly backing out the door. "There's a mixer for new admissions, and... Sorry, guys."

   "At least he wanted to celebrate with you guys," Roman mumbled. "That's kind of... sweet... for Flash."

   "Jones, what are you doing?" MJ's boss barked. "Get back to work!"

   "I'm seriously going to kill that guy," Roman said. "Remind me why this planet hasn't legalized reasonable murder yet?"

   Rubbing Peter's back, Riley replied, "Sometimes, I forget your planet was overthrown by tyrants."

   "You know what?" MJ tore her rejection letter in half. "I wouldn't change a thing I did." She gave them a small smile and disappeared into the back of the shop.

   "Me neither." Ned shredded his letter, too, then froze. "Although... I do need to show this letter to my parents..."

   He gathered the scraps of his lost hopes and dreams, pulled on his backpack, and wandered out of the shop.

   Riley turned to Peter, searching for the right words to say. He numbly stared at the wizard lights, his eyes tinged red. But he spoke before she could.

   "You know... I... think I need to be alone right now," Peter said. He stood up rather quickly and pressed a kiss to her head. "I'll call you?"

   "Yeah, of course—" Riley said, but he was gone before she could finish. "Huh. That was weird."

   "Well, his entire future is fucked up at the moment," Roman said. "I'd be suspicious if he wasn't being weird."

   "Hm... You're probably right."

○ ○ ○

   Peter's relationship with the universe was complicated. It never played nicely, never mind fairly. Sometimes, it gave him everything he could ask for, only to beat him to the ground again, as if to remind him that, no matter what, his happiness was temporary.

   But that was fine. He was used to it by now. So what? Things had been worse. Things will probably get worse. It didn't matter anymore.

   But once his loved ones became affected by his shitty luck, that was when it became too personal. Now, he had to do everything he could to make things right for them again. It seemed impossible, but don't worry.

   Peter had an idea.

   He stood before the Sanctum Sanctorum. As he reached for the doorbell, the wide double doors spontaneously swung open. He wavered, but then again, magical beings occupied this space. He crossed the threshold.

   The vestibule was dark, eerie, and... cold. Extremely cold. Completely frozen. Frost adhered to the grand staircase, making it resemble a massive slide, and snow fluffed the floors. Peter tugged his flannel for warmth as his breaths emerged as white clouds.

   When he noticed two people in oversized coats shoveling the snow into buckets, he cleared his throat. "Um... Hi." They stopped and stared at him. "Hi? I'm, uh—"

   A gold portal opened. A man in a fur-lined coat stepped out of it, dragging several cases. "The most famous person in the world, I know. Wong. Try not to slip. We don't have liability insurance."

   Wong jumped back into the portal to bring in the last of the cases. Peter looked around in awe. "Is all this for a holiday party?"

   "No," Wong said. "One of the rotunda gateways connects to Siberia. A blizzard blasted through."

   With a swoosh, Dr. Stephen Strange floated down the stairs, his Cloak of Levitation acting as another layer over his winter clothes. "Because someone forgot to cast a monthly maintenance spell to keep the seals tight."

   He slipped as he landed at the foot of the stairs, nearly spilling the hot chocolate in his mug (which had a cartoon fox on it, so it read, Oh for fox sake).

   "That's right, he did," Wong grumbled. "Because he forgot I now have higher duties."

   "Higher duties?" Strange mocked.

   "The Sorcerer Supreme has higher duties, yes."

   "Wait, I thought you were the Sorcerer Supreme?" Peter said to Strange.

   "No, he got it on a technicality because I blipped for five years," he bitterly said.

   "Oh. Well, congratulations!" Peter said to Wong.

   But Strange went on, "If I'd been here, then—"

   "You'd burn the place down." Wong marched toward the two workers on the sidelines. "You two, no one said stop shoveling!"

   Strange turned and walked toward the fireplace. "So, Peter, to what do I owe the pleasure? How are you? How's the girlfriend? Trouble in paradise yet?"

   Peter followed him, slipping as he tried to keep up. "No, um. I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but—"

   "Please," Strange waved a hand, igniting the fireplace, "we saved half the universe together. I think we're beyond you calling me sir."

   "Okay, uh. Stephen—"

   "That feels weird, but I'll allow it."

   "Uh..." Peter stammered. "When... When Mysterio revealed my identity, my entire life got screwed up, and... I was wondering... I mean, I don't even know if this would actually work, but I was wondering if... maybe you could go back in time and make it so that he never did?"

   Lightly, Strange asked, "Peter... we tampered with the stability of space-time to resurrect countless lives. You wanna do it again just because yours got messy?"

   "This isn't— It's not about me. This is really hurting a lot of people. My Aunt May, Happy, my best friends, their futures are ruined just because they know me, and they've done nothing wrong!" Peter said. "My girlfriend's been trying to hide the fact that she's exhausted from trying to help me. She's the one telling me it'll be okay. She's the one doing everything she can to fix my screw-ups, and I feel completely useless."

   "I am so sorry, but... even if I wanted to... I don't have the Time Stone anymore," Strange said. "I thought you knew that. Your girlfriend's the one who destroyed it — twice."

   Peter's heart sunk into his chest. "...That's right."

   He knew that. How could he forget? When did he become so stupid? Maybe he should have told Riley about his idea to fix this. Maybe she would have reminded him of that before he embarrassed himself.

   He just couldn't keep seeing that look on her face. That look of pity. That sorry look. Why was she the one comforting him? She shouldn't have to keep getting involved in his messes. He should be able to fix them himself.

   Peter turned to leave, muttering, "I'm really sorry if I wasted your time."

   Strange's eyes softened. "No, you didn't—"

   "Just forget about it."

   "Oh, he will," Wong chimed, carrying more cases. "He's really good at forgetting things."

   Strange's face lit up. "Wong, you've actually generated a good idea. The Runes of Kof-Kol."

   "The Runes of Kof-Kol...?" Peter repeated. He had no idea what that was, but he felt cool just saying it.

   "It's just a standard spell of forgetting," Strange explained. "Won't turn back time, but at least people will forget that you were ever Spider-Man."

   Warmth spread through Peter's chest. That almost forgotten feeling of hope. "Seriously? Thank—"

   "No, not seriously," Wong clipped. "That spell travels the dark borders between known and unknown reality. It's too dangerous."

   "We've used it for a lot less," Strange pointed out. "Do you remember the full moon party in Kamar-Taj?"

   He frowned. "No."

   "Exactly. Come on, Wong. Hasn't he been through enough?"

   There was a long pause. Another portal opened behind Wong, revealing a glimpse of the famed Kamar-Taj. "Just leave me out of this."

   The portal closed, and Strange turned to the boy with a keen smile.

   Peter couldn't wait to tell Riley about how he managed to fix this whole mess by himself.

   They soon descended into the shady basement. The sorcerer placed himself before a mysterious bowl backed by a plinth. It glowed a deep shade of gold as Strange got to work.

   "The Sanctum's built at the intersection of cosmic energy currents. We were the first to seek them out," Strange revealed when Peter asked where they were. "Some of these walls are thousands of years old. And they shot an episode of Equalizer here in the '80s."

   "Well, I really appreciate you doing this for me, sir."

   "Don't mention it." Strange extracted a thin thread of magic from the bowl. "And don't call me sir."

   Peter lightly laughed. "Right, sorry."

   "You ready?"

   "I'm ready."

   Strange folded his arms into an X. "Nice knowing you, Spider-Man." When he uncrossed them, a mandala shield appeared in one hand. With the other, he plucked a rune energy from the shield and traced shapes into the air.

   Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, excuse me?"

   Strange pointed his focus on the spell, announcing, "The entire world is about to forget that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Including me."

   "Everyone?" Peter rushed to the bowl, ducking as the gold thread became a large circle, steadily revolving around them mid-air. If he looked closely, he could make out the shapes of the runes glowing within it. "Uh, can't some people still know?"

   "That's not how the spell works, and it's very difficult and dangerous to change it mid-casting."

   "So, my girlfriend's gonna forget everything we've been through?" Peter panicked. "Is she even gonna be my girlfriend?"

   "That depends. Was she your girlfriend just because you're Spider-Man?"

   "I mean, no, but... yes, but... no— It's complicated! We wouldn't have met if I wasn't Spider-Man, and I don't know if I can live without her knowing—"

   "Alright, fine." Strange swatted the air, causing the gold circle to spin and lower. He began to draw a new one above it, repeating the spell. "Everyone in the world is gonna forget you're Spider-Man, except Riley Stark."

   "Thank you so much— Oh my God," Peter realized. "Ned. Ned!"

   The runes trembled again. Strange summoned a chunk from the upper circle and discarded it by plunging it into the bowl. "What is a Ned?"

   "He's my best friend! He and MJ and Roman, they're my best friends! Please, it's really important to me that they know—"

   Strange huffed but nodded anyway. Again, he lowered the upper circle and drew a new one. The walls of the basement, now glistening a faint shade of blue, thundered as they contained the restless cosmic energies surrounding them.

   "Okay, let's not change the parameters of this spell anymore while I'm casting it," Strange sternly said.

   "Okay, okay, I'm done. I swear I'm done. I'm done," Peter promised. "Ah, but my Aunt May should really know!"

   "Peter, stop tampering with the spell—!"

   "When she found out that I was Spider-Man, it was really messy! I don't think I could go through that again!" he shouted. "...So my Aunt May?"

   "Yes!" Strange impatiently yelled, beginning the spell again.

   "Thank you. Wait, Mr. Stark! And Pepper, and what about Morgan? She's like my little sister! And Happy!"

   "No, I'm annoyed!"

   "No, it's a nickname! Harold "Happy" Hogan. He works for the Starks, and then he was kinda dating my aunt—!"

   The more Peter rambled, the more it suppressed the spell. The gold rings of runes began to violently shake. Strange focused on steadying the spell as he grunted, "Could you... just stop talking!?"

   The runes finally snapped.

   Peter and Strange were thrust into the air and the room began to spin and spin and spin. The walls were obliterated. The floor crumbled, breaking off as a purple void of cosmos opened up.

   "BASICALLY, EVERYONE WHO KNEW THAT I WAS SPIDER-MAN BEFORE," Peter hollered over the chaos, "SHOULD STILL KNOW!"

   The golden loops, every altered spell, grew tangled, stretching larger and larger, duplicating, sparking, and spiraling out of reach. The purple void spread until the basement was indiscernible, plunging them into not space, but a place in between universes. Peter gaped at it, his limbs flailing, and spotted distant figures trying to approach them.

   With a blood-curdling cry, Strange latched onto the energies and pulled the spell together again, finally closing it at long last. The heroes landed on their feet again, still secure in their universe. The basement reforged, the purple void vanished, and the spell condensed itself into a tiny, orange pentagonal cube.

   Peter looked around. "Did it work?"

   "No," Strange growled breathlessly. "You changed my spell 11 times."

   "10 times—"

   "YOU CHANGED MY SPELL! You don't do that! I told you! And that is why!" Strange pointed to the cube. "That spell was completely out of control. If I hadn't shut it down, something catastrophic could have happened."

   "Stephen, listen, I am so—"

   "Call me sir," he scolded.

   His newfound tone was whiplash, but Peter understood. "...Sorry, sir."

   "You know, after everything we've been through together, somehow I always forget... You're just a kid. You're not like R—" Strange stopped himself before he said her name. "Look, Parker, the problem, it's not Mysterio. It's you trying to live two different lives. And the longer you do that, the more dangerous it becomes. Believe me. I'm so sorry about you and your friends not getting into college, but if they rejected you, and... you tried to convince them to reconsider, there is nothing else you can do."

   Peter blinked. "When you say... convince them, you mean I could have called them...?"

   Strange nodded. "Yeah."

   "...I could do that?"

   Strange's face fell. "You haven't called...?"

   "Well, I mean, I got their letter. I assumed that was—"

   Strange marched forward, magically moving to spell aside. "I'm sorry. Are you telling me that you didn't even think to plead your case with them first before you asked me to brainwash the entire world?" he fiercely demanded.

   Peter hesitated. "When you put it like that—"

   The next thing Peter saw were the doors to the Sanctum Sanctorum slamming in his face.

○ ○ ○

   "As much as I appreciate your cash and company, I have to cut you off at some point." MJ took Riley's empty coffee cup. "I'm saying this because I tolerate you significantly more than the average person. That much caffeine should probably kill a person."

   "Oh, come on!" Riley leaned against the counter, nearly squishing her fifth donut of the day. "Live a little!"

   "Try not to kill yourself a little!"

   "I'm not—"

   "You're trembling like my neighbor's chihuahua. And believe me, that dog's seen some shit." MJ wiped down the counter for the umpteenth time as she pretended to look busy. "Maybe you guys should hang around here more often. Notice how I haven't been yelled at in the past hour and a half?"

   "Pretty sure your boss is just scared of Rome."

   The girls turned to him, watching him dissect a pink-frosted donut with a fork.

   "Statistically speaking, I suppose someone has to be," MJ agreed.

   Meanwhile, Roman decided, "Donuts might be this planet's only unique invention."

   "You said the same thing about Oprah, my Flintstone vitamins, and Crocs," MJ pointed out.

   He raised an eyebrow. "Taking notes on me, huh? Writing a book?"

   "Don't flatter yourself. It's a guidebook for identifying red flags in men."

   Roman snorted, and MJ shyly laughed.

   "I hate to bring this up again," Riley said. Like MJ was pretending to work, Riley was pretending she wasn't third-wheeling. "But I was thinking—"

   "Uh oh," Roman said, causing MJ to giggle again.

   Riley smacked his arm. "I can't stop thinking about this MIT thing. I think it's worth bringing this situation up to Matt. There's gotta be a loophole or rule against bias, right? What about Peter's contributions to saving the world? What about your accomplishments at Midtown High, like being on an award-winning Decathlon team? You're so much more than a stupid rumor!" she suggested. "And if Matt doesn't know anything, Bruce has a lawyer cousin on the West Coast. Maybe I can get you guys some decent advice without any of you having to pay for her services out of pocket."

   MJ sighed. "I don't know, Ri..."

   "Come on, let me do this!" Riley pleaded. "Let me share my nepotism powers with you!"

   "Pretty sure that goes against my core of being."

   "Not all nepotism is bad."

   Roman, who had begun to scroll through his phone, called, "Guys?"

   Live footage from his news app showed Spider-Man on a highway confronting some kind of man-robot-octopus. Metal tentacles sprouted from his back, crushing and launching the cars at screaming civilians.

   "The power of the sun in the palm of my hand!" the Robot Octopus bellowed. "It's gone!"

   Ignoring him, MJ said, "You're only saying that because you're a nepotism baby. Morally speaking, I shouldn't even be associating myself with you as an act of rebellion against so-called prestigious institutions that neglect their standards in the case of nepotism."

   "Yeah, but you're forgetting the most important part," Riley disputed. "We're best friends. And you can still frown upon nepotism while reaping its benefits concurrently."

   "Guys, I really think—" Roman tried again, watching as Spider-Man and the Robot Octopus fought each other.

   "You think your fancy new suit's gonna save you?" Robot Octopus sneered, flinging Peter through a billboard. "I should've killed your little girlfriend when I had the chance."

   Peter's mask's eyes became slits as he coldly demanded, "What did you just say?"

   "That feels problematic though," MJ countered. "And majorly hypocritical."

   "People are too multidimensional to be restricted by black-and-white standards. Society expects everyone to be perfectly moral individuals without any desires or interests or opinions, which is extremely unrealistic," Riley said. "Society is setting us up for failure! Why shouldn't Eve eat the apple? A girl's gotta eat!"

   "That's true... Society is rigged and overly sanctimonious..." MJ realized. "Society totally encourages us to suppress our free will in hopes of becoming the unachievable "perfect person", especially if you're a woman or any other kind of minority. People shouldn't be expected to act differently when the system itself is flawed. Anyone would play the system if the opportunity presented itself to them." She pointed her finger at Riley. "Damn you, Stark! How'd you get so good at that?"

   "Vision and I have debated everything under the sun," Riley fondly said. She hopped out of her seat, leaving a very generous tip on the counter. "I'm going to visit Matt in Hell's Kitchen. I'll see you guys later."

   "But—!" Roman cried, but Riley was already gone. He turned to MJ, slightly irritated, mostly worried.

   Innocently, MJ wondered, "What?"

   Riley strode through the streets in search of a decent place to take to the skies. One time, she tried to fly away in the middle of a crowd and accidentally stole someone's child on her forcefield. The kid was fine and mostly excited to tell his family he flew with Valor, but that wasn't a mistake she planned on making again anytime soon.

   But as she walked, she couldn't help but feel a buzz beneath her feet... The ground was... quaking. The tremors were subtle, but she'd been a victim of enough explosions and wars to know when they were happening. Buildings down the block vibrated. Birds flocked overhead to escape the source. Shouts rivaled honking cars as a crowd of civilians flooded toward her.

   "What's going on—?" Riley tried to ask one of them, but they sprinted past her. She tried again. "Are you okay? Is anyone hurt—?"

   They kept ignoring her. One after another, they shoved past her. Some shrieked and gasped at the sight of her, which was... unusual.

   Like any sane person, Riley bolted toward the chaos.

   The shouts became louder the closer she became. Cars flipped through the streets. Riley secured them in a forcefield and set them down gently before continuing to search for the perpetrator. She couldn't see anything, too distracted by the fleeing civilians, massive fires, and— BOOM!

   A beam of light pierced through a building as a masked woman, dressed in dark purple and silver, emerged from the smoke.

   "I told you, I'll offer mercy to anyone who brings me Peter Parker!" she shouted. She spun around, blasting energy at the people. "Honestly, it's a simple request! Am I being unreasonable?"

   The vigilante stopped once she realized her blasts were no longer striking the concrete and the people. Forcefields unseen to the naked eye had sprung around the block, minimizing her damage. The innocents took her distraction as their chance to flee. The woman didn't react at first, merely letting them run off. Instead, she looked around for whoever dared to get involved in her mania. It didn't take her long to notice the only person that wasn't running away from her.

   The woman tilted her head. From behind her ornate mask, she stared at Riley.

   "Mr. Parker's a bit preoccupied at the moment," Riley greeted, shrouding her fists with light, "but I can take a message."

   The woman hummed and finally yanked off her mask, revealing her jet-black hair, bronzed skin, and brown eyes that swirled with mania. She didn't speak, only offering a wide grin.

   Riley's muscles strained with tension as she froze. "W...What?" she gasped.

   For once, she didn't have a quippy remark to say. She didn't know what to say.

   The vigilante looked just like Riley.