MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

**Pain**

Antonio Aguilar suddenly woke from a nightmare, his head throbbing with sharp pain.

His vision blurred, and his thoughts fragmented into bizarre, disjointed pieces.

Drowsily, he tried to rise from the bed, but his numb limbs kept him frozen in place.

Opening his eyes, Antonio struggled to lift his arms and pressed his fingers hard against his temples, trying to pull his scattered consciousness back into focus.

"Am I... still alive?"

Almost reflexively, he touched his chest.

He felt a thin layer of fabric, not the bloody wounds, shattered sternum, or gushing blood he had expected.

Just skin, warm to the touch.

Realizing he was alive, Antonio sighed in relief, forcing his stiff body off the bed.

The room was silent. Moonlight streamed through the windows, casting silvery light across the floor.

Antonio looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding his eyes.

Why am I here?

He tried to recall what had happened, searching his fragmented memories.

Suddenly, unbearable flashes of the past flooded his mind.

He remembered the cold, confined space. The night's chill was amplified by air-conditioning. Armed to the teeth, he held an automatic rifle, carefully guarding the darkness.

Something worse than beasts lurked out there.

Without warning, a creature emerged from the shadows, its body clad in tough, exoskeletal armor with protruding vertebrae.

A blast of corrosive acid erupted from its mouth, instantly melting Antonio's weapon.

Startled, he remained calm, discarding his rifle and swiftly drawing a tactical dagger from his waist.

With explosive strength, his blade severed the neck of the alien attacker.

Bending down, Antonio gazed coldly at the dying alien.

Just as he prepared to strike the final blow, a facehugger appeared from a blind spot, launching itself toward him. In that split second of relaxation, it pounced.

That was the last image he remembered before blacking out.

"Was I attacked by a facehugger?"

Antonio touched his chest again, muttering to himself.

Though he fought aliens, this was not his original world.

Born an orphan, Antonio had led a dull and uneventful life.

He had been selfish and indifferent, but one day, on a whim, he did something kind—he helped an old lady cross the street, ignoring a red light.

A dump truck barreled toward them.

When he woke up, his soul had been transported into the alien world, becoming a mercenary under the notorious Weyland Corporation.

Once he accepted the situation, Antonio quickly adapted to his new life as a hired gun.

Accustomed to killing, he figured his life would end with a bullet.

But Weyland Corporation had other plans. They captured an alien specimen and built a base to study the creature—a natural-born killing machine.

It wasn't long before the aliens escaped, wreaking havoc and turning the research base into a slaughterhouse.

Antonio, following orders, had been tasked with exterminating the aliens.

His last memory was of being attacked by a facehugger, leaping from the shadows.

Taking a breath, he forced his thoughts back to the present.

The room was furnished with old computers, scattered books, and desk lamps wired to the wall.

Outdated, yet familiar objects that seemed to belong to the 21st century.

But in the alien world, it was the 22nd century, and such relics didn't exist.

Antonio stared at these familiar yet foreign items, feeling momentarily lost.

"Did I… come back?"

Had he returned to his own world?

Hesitant, Antonio glanced at the calendar on the wall.

The year "20xx" was printed in bold numbers.

I really did come back!

In the alien world, humanity had only just started lunar colonization in the 21st century.

Antonio, now overwhelmed with emotions, stared at the calendar, speechless.

Had he remained in the alien world and been parasitized by the facehugger, his end would have been far more gruesome.

After the alien embryo matured, it would have ripped through his chest, shattering his sternum and turning his arteries and muscles into a blood-soaked mess.

He had seen it happen. The agony was unspeakable.

Now that his soul had returned, it seemed that fate had spared him that pain.

Perhaps he was already dead in that other world.

"Let's just call it a dream."

Shaking his head, Antonio sighed.

"Peter?"

A female voice suddenly called from downstairs, breaking his thoughts.

"Peter, are you still working on your exam? If you don't hurry, Uncle will eat all your banana bread."

"...What?"

Antonio froze at the unfamiliar voice.

This definitely wasn't the Celestial Kingdom.

A sense of dread crept over him as he quickly moved to the mirror in the room.

White skin, green eyes, hazel hair... the face staring back at him wasn't his.

And then, memories that weren't his flooded into his mind.

After a moment, Antonio slowly touched his unfamiliar face.

It turned out, he hadn't truly gone back.

Instead of returning to his world, he had traveled again—this time into the world of American comics, becoming a high school student named "Peter Parker."

Peter Parker. Spider-Man.

He wasn't a big fan of American comics, but he knew who Spider-Man was.

A superhero?

Antonio's face twisted as he looked away from the mirror.

How could someone like me—a cold, selfish killer—become a superhero?

I was destined to die by the enemy's bullet after a lifetime of killing, not swinging around the city in tights.

"Peter?! Don't make me come up there!"

Another voice called from downstairs, more urgent this time.

"Coming, Aunt May!" Antonio shouted, trying to sound natural.

Now that he was here, he might as well get used to it. He quickly composed himself and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, Aunt May was holding a plate, smiling at him. "Our bright young man must have lost track of time again."

Uncle Ben, seated at the table, smiled. "Just like his father—he gets so lost in his own world. It's not necessarily a bad thing. By the way, can I have another slice of that banana bread?"

Peter hadn't been bitten by a spider yet, so poor Uncle Ben was still alive.

After a silent moment for Uncle Ben, Antonio sat down as if nothing had happened.

"Crack!"

Aunt May smacked Uncle Ben's hand away from the bread. "This is for Peter. It's full of potassium, which is great for allergies. I read about it in a homeopathy book."

"Allergies?" Uncle Ben asked, puzzled. "What's Peter allergic to?"

"He's allergic to the environment. He has trouble fitting in at school."

Uncle Ben fell silent, unsure how to respond.

Antonio grabbed a piece of banana bread, only for a sudden sharp pain to shoot through his chest. His throat burned, and nausea washed over him.

"Ugh!"

The sensation spread, as if something was writhing inside his body.

Antonio was horrified.

How could this be?!

Even though his soul had crossed into Peter Parker's body, had the alien embryo from the facehugger followed him?

Was the time travel system malfunctioning?

Or had something gone wrong?

"Peter, are you okay?" Aunt May's concerned voice cut through his panic.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I just remembered something," Antonio replied, quickly retreating upstairs.

As he left, Aunt May and Uncle Ben exchanged worried glances.

Aunt May set down the plate, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

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