Oh yeah. I'm going there. I originally meant to put this out on my birthday, but...well, I was sick as hell. But here it is--and don't worry, it'll stay just a oneshot, covering only the events of OMD.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns Spiderman and the storyline One More Day. This is a work of fiction written within the Spiderman setting, intended as an oneshot rewrite of the One More Day storyline. The original idea behind the rewrite was taken from Linkara’s 200th episode and his thoughts and opinions on One More Day—it is a good review of a bad story and you should go watch it— as well as from many conversations on IRC and on Spacebattles about the topic, which I am taking and running with. This work is a perhaps futile and possibly arrogant attempt to fix the many complaints people have with One More Day until Marvel finally listens to everyone’s pleas and retcons it.
With great power, comes great responsibility.
Those were the words that had redefined my life. My Uncle had said them to me once—and I had ignored him, costing him his life because of it. That was one of my mistakes and a big one to be sure.
But it was just one of many.
My name is Peter Parker and I have messed up a lot of times. My actions have cost the lives of people—Uncle Ben and Gwen sprang to mind, but I didn’t care to think of anyone beyond that; it was a long painful list. Jameson has often accused me of being a menace and it would be a lie to say that I’ve never agree with him before. It was generally in my darker moments, when I felt as if the world was deliberately trying to make my life miserable, but those moments had accumulated into quite a pile over the years. And now, there was one more.
I already said before that I had made many mistakes and maybe it was the freshness of this one or the fact that the pain from the others had dulled a bit over the years but…I can honestly say that I think this may well be my biggest mistake ever.
Weeks before, I’d made a different mistake when I’d supported superhero registration. In the wake of a tragedy caused by the villain Nitro, the government wanted a way to monitor heroes and keep such a thing from happening again. I’d had my doubts and grievances—the concept was sound enough, but how would it be executed without endangering said heroes. If there was a database where everyone’s information was kept, well…I’ve been a hero for long enough to say it would have been found and hacked by someone eventually, and people would have suffered. Beyond that, if you took into account what had happened to Mutants over the last decade or so and…well, it set a precedent, you see? The hate for mutants had somehow never spilled over to hatred of heroes, but…I’d be lying if I said I’d never worried about what could happen if it did.
I’d had a lot of issues with the entire idea—but at the same time, I believed it was also important for us heroes to take responsibility for what could potentially happen in our line of work. It was a risky idea, but the man spearheading it, Tony Stark was a friend of mine and we’d nearly died saving each other a bunch of times. He was far from perfect, but a good man, and I trusted him. With some backing from my family, I’d decided to support him.
No, I did more than just support it. When it came to it, I’d fought for it, against other heroes I’d stood beside. I’d bleed over the bill and when it came time to prove to the world that we—the pro-registration heroes—were serious, I’d taken off my mask on public television. I’d been confident, at the time—with the government and my friend Tony, I could defend my family, even if my identity was known, I was sure.
But things had changed. The fighting had been the start of it and it still left a bad taste in my mouth—hurting people who’d risked their lives countless times to protect others. But that had just been the start. Thor’s Clone, the Thunderbolts, and Negative Zone—it had gone on and on, out of control. I’d stayed on the pro-registration side for a while—longer then I should have and I’d known it even then. But I’d felt I’d had too. If I left now, the protection around my family would vanish—after taking of my mask, could I risk that?
And then heroes died. My fellow heroes had been killed by the people on my team. Metahumans had been drafted. Norman Osborn had become President—and how someone his age and with a criminal record did that, I may never know. And I…I just couldn’t stay. I knew the risks, but I also knew my principles. I’d talked to my family, told them I’d retire if it’d keep them safe or turn myself into the police and have Tony continue to protect them, but they knew what was going on as well as I did and had already packed their bags. We left that night and I’d joined Captain America—something that I’d thought could well be my last act as Spiderman—in his battle against the Registration. One last time, I’d take responsibility for my actions and fight the corrupt cause I’d helped put up. And then, when it was over, I’d stop being Spiderman, whether that meant retiring or turning myself in to protect my family.
And it had ended. Not the way I would have wanted, but in a way I’d known it could end. Tony had done a lot of things I’d never would have thought he’d do, but…he’d protect Aunt May and Mary Jane. I couldn’t work for him or for Osborn, but I could turn myself in before my family was hurt. I don’t know how long they’d put me away, but eventually things would change and I’d be free and I could protect the people I loved.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I’d thought. Maybe once I was out, I could be the husband Mary Jane deserved—that was another responsibility I had to uphold. I could use my time in prison to draw up designs for inventions I could make when I got out; without a secret identity, I could make more than enough money to support Aunt May and Mary Jane—and maybe, just maybe, some children.
Me, with kids…
But one way or another, I’d keep the people I loved safe. This time, I’d protect them. And yet…
And yet here I was, standing beside the hospital bed of the person I loved more than anyone else in the world.
Beside my wife, Mary Jane Watson.
XxXXxX
Disclaimer: Marvel owns Spiderman and the storyline One More Day. This is a work of fiction written within the Spiderman setting, intended as an oneshot rewrite of the One More Day storyline. The original idea behind the rewrite was taken from Linkara’s 200th episode and his thoughts and opinions on One More Day—it is a good review of a bad story and you should go watch it— as well as from many conversations on IRC and on Spacebattles about the topic, which I am taking and running with. This work is a perhaps futile and possibly arrogant attempt to fix the many complaints people have with One More Day until Marvel finally listens to everyone’s pleas and retcons it.
One More Day
With great power, comes great responsibility.
Those were the words that had redefined my life. My Uncle had said them to me once—and I had ignored him, costing him his life because of it. That was one of my mistakes and a big one to be sure.
But it was just one of many.
My name is Peter Parker and I have messed up a lot of times. My actions have cost the lives of people—Uncle Ben and Gwen sprang to mind, but I didn’t care to think of anyone beyond that; it was a long painful list. Jameson has often accused me of being a menace and it would be a lie to say that I’ve never agree with him before. It was generally in my darker moments, when I felt as if the world was deliberately trying to make my life miserable, but those moments had accumulated into quite a pile over the years. And now, there was one more.
I already said before that I had made many mistakes and maybe it was the freshness of this one or the fact that the pain from the others had dulled a bit over the years but…I can honestly say that I think this may well be my biggest mistake ever.
Weeks before, I’d made a different mistake when I’d supported superhero registration. In the wake of a tragedy caused by the villain Nitro, the government wanted a way to monitor heroes and keep such a thing from happening again. I’d had my doubts and grievances—the concept was sound enough, but how would it be executed without endangering said heroes. If there was a database where everyone’s information was kept, well…I’ve been a hero for long enough to say it would have been found and hacked by someone eventually, and people would have suffered. Beyond that, if you took into account what had happened to Mutants over the last decade or so and…well, it set a precedent, you see? The hate for mutants had somehow never spilled over to hatred of heroes, but…I’d be lying if I said I’d never worried about what could happen if it did.
I’d had a lot of issues with the entire idea—but at the same time, I believed it was also important for us heroes to take responsibility for what could potentially happen in our line of work. It was a risky idea, but the man spearheading it, Tony Stark was a friend of mine and we’d nearly died saving each other a bunch of times. He was far from perfect, but a good man, and I trusted him. With some backing from my family, I’d decided to support him.
No, I did more than just support it. When it came to it, I’d fought for it, against other heroes I’d stood beside. I’d bleed over the bill and when it came time to prove to the world that we—the pro-registration heroes—were serious, I’d taken off my mask on public television. I’d been confident, at the time—with the government and my friend Tony, I could defend my family, even if my identity was known, I was sure.
But things had changed. The fighting had been the start of it and it still left a bad taste in my mouth—hurting people who’d risked their lives countless times to protect others. But that had just been the start. Thor’s Clone, the Thunderbolts, and Negative Zone—it had gone on and on, out of control. I’d stayed on the pro-registration side for a while—longer then I should have and I’d known it even then. But I’d felt I’d had too. If I left now, the protection around my family would vanish—after taking of my mask, could I risk that?
And then heroes died. My fellow heroes had been killed by the people on my team. Metahumans had been drafted. Norman Osborn had become President—and how someone his age and with a criminal record did that, I may never know. And I…I just couldn’t stay. I knew the risks, but I also knew my principles. I’d talked to my family, told them I’d retire if it’d keep them safe or turn myself into the police and have Tony continue to protect them, but they knew what was going on as well as I did and had already packed their bags. We left that night and I’d joined Captain America—something that I’d thought could well be my last act as Spiderman—in his battle against the Registration. One last time, I’d take responsibility for my actions and fight the corrupt cause I’d helped put up. And then, when it was over, I’d stop being Spiderman, whether that meant retiring or turning myself in to protect my family.
And it had ended. Not the way I would have wanted, but in a way I’d known it could end. Tony had done a lot of things I’d never would have thought he’d do, but…he’d protect Aunt May and Mary Jane. I couldn’t work for him or for Osborn, but I could turn myself in before my family was hurt. I don’t know how long they’d put me away, but eventually things would change and I’d be free and I could protect the people I loved.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I’d thought. Maybe once I was out, I could be the husband Mary Jane deserved—that was another responsibility I had to uphold. I could use my time in prison to draw up designs for inventions I could make when I got out; without a secret identity, I could make more than enough money to support Aunt May and Mary Jane—and maybe, just maybe, some children.
Me, with kids…
But one way or another, I’d keep the people I loved safe. This time, I’d protect them. And yet…
And yet here I was, standing beside the hospital bed of the person I loved more than anyone else in the world.
Beside my wife, Mary Jane Watson.
XxXXxX
