A quiet hum. The sound of repulsors fading. A man in a damaged metal suit kneels in the dirt, breathing heavily.

“...Okay, either I’m hallucinating, or I just respawned in my own sequel.”

He looks around, confusion in his eyes. “Pepper? Morgan?”

Silence. Only wind.

“Figures. Two years dead, and everyone moves on. Can’t blame them, but still…”

He taps his wrist, trying to access a holographic display. It flickers. “No signal. No Stark servers. No backup protocols. Great. Classic comeback.”

After a moment, his tone shifts—curious, uncertain. “Wait… where the hell is Peter Parker?”

He starts digging through files, realizing there’s nothing. Not even a trace. “That’s impossible. The kid doesn’t just— vanish. Someone’s rewriting the world, and I’m not a fan of sequels without my permission.”