Peter smiled, looking out at his city. "Deal. Just don't wait eighty years to collect."

Peter swung through the shifting city, a ghost in his own era. Every step he took in the past echoed in Miguel's future. When Peter smashed a prototype generator, a legion of robotic sentinels in 2099 suddenly powered down. They were two men separated by a hundred years, yet moving in a perfect, desperate dance.

As the final surge of energy gathered, Peter stood at the epicenter of the collapse. He saw the face of the man who wanted to play God with time. With a roar that transcended decades, both Spider-Men struck at the same moment—one hitting the past, one hitting the future. The world went white.

"I feel it, Miguel," Peter grunted, firing a web-line to a hovering drone that bore a logo from a century ahead. "The 'Spidey-sense' isn't just tingling; it's screaming. It’s like the universe is trying to reboot while I’m still running the program."

Miguel O'Hara stared at the flickering monitors of Alchemax, his breath hitching as the timeline literally began to unravel before his eyes. In the year 2099, the world was bleeding into a kaleidoscope of static and misplaced memories. He could see Peter Parker—the original Spider-Man—fighting a desperate battle in the past, but the air around Peter was shimmering with a lethal, chronological radiation.

"Peter, do you read me?" Miguel shouted into the chronal link. "The Alchemax CEO has crossed the stream. He’s rewriting the very moment you were supposed to survive!"

When the spots cleared from Peter's eyes, the sky was blue. The Bugle was brick and mortar again. He sat on a ledge, his suit torn, and tapped his comms. "Miguel? You still there?"