Noah wasn't short on ideas when it came to dealing with the Overlord.
The Interdimensional Chatroom allowed members to visit each other's worlds—provided permission was granted. Once he reached level four, that door would open.
And when it did…
I'll make sure he regrets ever crossing me.
The thought passed through his mind as the machine continued its relentless assault. Electricity surged. Steel pounded. His body broke down and rebuilt itself in a constant cycle.
Across the city, Peter Parker sat in silence, staring at the video playing on his phone.
Noah, tearing through enemies like a force of nature.
The footage had spread everywhere overnight.
Peter exhaled slowly.
Just yesterday, he'd officially quit working under Noah. And now this—headlines, viral clips, people calling him a hero.
The entire class was talking about it.
Peter couldn't help it.
He was a little jealous.
When's it my turn?
"Peter. Earth to Peter."
He blinked and looked up.
His teacher, Mr. James, was holding something out to him.
"What's this?" Peter asked, taking it.
An ID badge.
Oscorp Industries.
"You did well during your last internship evaluation," James said with a smile. "They selected you. You'll report there on weekends from now on."
Peter's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"
One good thing after another.
Ever since becoming Spider-Man, life had started moving fast.
Then reality caught up.
School. Patrols. Now an internship.
His schedule was about to become a nightmare.
And somehow, that made Noah even more frustrating.
Same age. Same city.
And Noah was already operating on a completely different level—skipping school, making headlines, doing whatever he wanted.
"By the way," James added, hesitating slightly. "You and Noah are close, right? Do you know where he's been staying?"
Peter frowned. "Why?"
"He hasn't shown up in weeks," James said. "I understand he's… busy. But the principal wants to invite him back. Give a speech. You know—motivation, role model, that kind of thing."
Peter froze.
"A speech?"
Noah hadn't even graduated yet.
And now he was being invited back as a distinguished alumni?
"That's… fast," Peter muttered.
James sighed. "His phone's off. I can't reach him. Could you pass along the message?"
Peter nodded slowly. "Yeah… I'll ask him."
He's definitely going to say no.
After school, Peter headed straight for the Maynes Fitness Club.
Noah wasn't there.
Instead, he found Camila lounging in the private gym, a glass of red wine in hand.
"Camila," Peter said. "Where's Noah?"
She barely looked at him. "Factory on Fifth Avenue. He's training."
She took another sip, then added casually, "We're moving out soon."
"Moving where?"
"Some villa on Broadway."
She waved him off. "That's all you need. Go."
Following her directions, Peter arrived at the factory.
He hadn't even reached the door when—
Crash!
Two bodies came flying through the glass, skidding across the pavement.
Peter jumped back, startled.
"What the—"
He rushed over.
One of them—
"…Punisher?"
The other wasn't in much better shape.
Both men were barely conscious, their limbs clearly broken in multiple places.
Peter quickly dragged them to the side and called an ambulance before stepping inside.
The sound hit him immediately.
Heavy. Rhythmic. Relentless.
Inside, Noah was strapped into a massive machine, enduring a barrage of impacts while lifting enormous weights like it was nothing.
Peter stared.
"…White, what the hell happened out there?"
"Two guys who couldn't mind their own business," Noah said flatly.
A few minutes earlier, Punisher and Daredevil had shown up, demanding he cut ties with Fisk.
Join them. Take down the Kingpin. Do the "right thing."
Noah had told them to leave.
They hadn't.
So he made them.
"Anyway," Noah added, glancing at Peter, "shouldn't you be out playing hero?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that. Mr. James asked me to find you."
"For?"
"They want you back at school. The principal's inviting you to give a speech."
Noah paused for half a second.
Then—
"No."
No hesitation.
"Tell them I'm not interested. Make up whatever excuse you want."
Peter sighed. Called it.
"Alright. I'll let them know."
He lingered for a moment, watching Noah train—then turned and left.
A week later.
Noah was still in the factory.
Still training.
Still pushing further.
Then—
A voice echoed in his mind.
Calm. Measured. Gentle.
"Hello, young man."
Noah's movements slowed slightly.
The voice continued.
"My name is Charles Francis Xavier."
A brief pause.
"And I'd like to ask for your help."