Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lesson 1: Literary Studies 101

Face front, true believers! Today we bring you another scintillating tale, guaranteed to be packed with non-stop action and heart-racing drama for our favorite web-slinger ! Excelsior!

The man behind the counter gave him a dry stare. “Kid, look, I'm not stupid. I know what's going on here.”

The kid shifted in place, pulling his hoodie tighter over his face. “What are you talking about? Nothing's going on here. I just want to buy this stuff.” He held out the bag in his hand.

“Yeah,” said the man – “Bruce,” according to his name tag. “And you've wanted to buy that stuff every time you've come in here since last summer. The exact same chemicals in the exact same quantities every single freakin' time.” He leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. “The only thing I don't get is what kinda drugs you could possibly be making that need a twenty-pound sack of liquid cement.”

The boy looked to the sack resting by his foot. “Uh, no, it's nothing like that!” he said quickly. “See, I, uh, I'm a science geek, and I use the chemicals and stuff for a... a science fair project.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “A science fair project that's been going on nonstop all school year?”

There was a prolonged silence.

“Yes,” said the boy.

“I can't believe he bought that! Sheesh, that's the last time I shop at Campbell's Chemistry Emporium.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he set the supplies down at his basement workstation. “Man, I bet it's crazy expensive everywhere else, though. Wonder if I could swipe some chemicals from the ESU lab...?” As he spoke, Peter set to work pouring vials of multicolored liquid together into a mixing bowl (Aunt May was out with Mrs. Watson. He'd have it washed and put back in no time). “Well, okay, I wouldn't steal if it was from the Connors, but they left town, and that Warren guy's a creep. He deserves to have a few chemicals stolen, doesn't he?” Next came time to pour the liquid cement. “Ah, what are you saying, Pete? You're better than that.”

Then came the eggbeaters for stirring (He'd wash those, too). “Can he cook? He can bake. He makes radioactive cake. Look out... here comes the Spider-Chef!”

Now for the hard part. Getting all that fluid into the tiny little capsules was tricky, but Peter had had plenty of practice.

“And... voila! Now all that's left is to give it a test run.” The shooter snapped around his wrist with a pleasant click. Peter's eyes fell on an empty Coke can on the far side of the basement.

Thwip. Said can was now in his hand.

“And we've got webs.” The dryer abruptly stopped humming. “Oh, and the costume's ready. We're in business.”

Peter ran for the laundry basket, tossing the web-shooters back on his work-table. “Webs, check. Costume, check. Witty repertoire, check. Finally, the fun part of the day can start. I'll stop some petty thieves, get crucified by the media, fight for my life with animal-themed supervillains... It'll be a hoot!” Peter couldn't help but grin as he dug his mask out from the gigantic pile of identical blue t-shirts in the machine.

“Note to self, stop monologing out loud every time you're alone. It's starting to get weird.”

Thwip. Thwip.

A “Wahoo!” escaped Spidey's mouth as he came off the arc of his swing. This was the best. The pleasant March air, the wind in his spandex... It felt like he belonged up here, dancing between buildings, rushing past rooftops-

Ah, there we go. Now he was monologing in his head like he was supposed to.

Spidey stuck himself to a skyscraper so he could get a better look at the streets below. Hmm... No crime as far as he could see. Definitely not any thematically appropriate mega-criminals swearing vengeance on him. In fact, the streets were cleaner than they'd ever been. With the feds still breathing down Tombstone's neck, the Big Man's whole operation was frozen with fear, and there hadn't really been any more supervillains since Gobby blew himself up.

So the head of Oscorp dies, and suddenly all the mysterious new supervillains stop appearing? Probably just a coincidence. Yeah.

Well, it'd been twenty minutes and the Lizard hadn't burst out of nowhere to eat everyone. This was boring. Spidey was hanging up the costume for the morning.

Wait, was that a purse snatcher? No, no, he was just helping that lady cross the street. Ugh. Was it wrong that Spider-Man was starting to miss Doctor Octopus?

Getting to Midtown Magnet early in the morning was like stepping onto an alien homeworld. Where maddening swarms of shouting, shoving students normally roamed, there were clean, empty hallways. It was downright tranquil.

Or so Peter had heard.

“Ow! Watch it!” Peter hissed as he failed to navigate a shouting, shoving swarm. One of these days, he was getting here more than five minutes before the bell. One of these days…

Just when the throbbing of Peter’s head was starting to fade into more of a lingering ache, a nasally voice by his ear said, “Why don’t you just crawl over ’em all on the ceiling?”

“Oh my god, Seymour.” With a great effort, Peter mustered the strength to turn to the scrawny, curly-haired, glasses-wearing mess known as Seymour O’Reilly, who was currently hovering over his shoulder. “It was a Halloween carnival. We’ve been over this.”

“That’s not what this guy thinks.” The next instant, Peter found a phone shoved in his face.

Onscreen was a blurry video of Peter's favorite slimy black supervillain waving at the camera and yelling, “Hey, reporters, over here! We've got some breaking news for you. Peter Parker is Spider-Man!”

“Oh,” said Peter, “well, if the Lovecraftian horror says so…”

“You’ve got a huge following on the internet.” Seymour thumbed through the phone, ignoring him. “That Venom video's all over Youtube. Here, someone did a ten minute dance remix-”

“Look, I can prove I'm not Spider-Man.” Before Seymour’s thumb had time to hit play, Peter shoved his wrists in the guy’s face, then pressed his ring and middle fingers against his palms. Nothing. “There. If I was Spidey, you'd be covered in webs right now.”

That one seemed to stump the guy, allowing Peter to finally, mercifully vanish into the anonymity of the crowd.

Phew, that’d been a close one. Good thing the general public had no idea Peter's webs weren't organic. Which was great because that’d be gross. But also a lot cheaper... Okay, organic web-shooters wouldn't be so bad.

Once he was a safe distance away, Peter leaned against a locker to check his phone. It was an older model, the nicest the Parker family fortune could afford. Well, actually, he did have one of those newfangled Osberries, but Peter had left that buried in his closet somewhere seeing as it had Norman-germs all over it. As a rule of thumb, superheroes shouldn't use any gadgets that were given to them by their arch-nemeses.

Peter strained to read his phone's cracked screen. To the surprise of no one, Gwen hadn't returned his texts. No word from her since the funeral. And their internships had turned into a contest to see who could go the longest without breaking the dead silence. Great. You confess your love for someone who can't break up with her boyfriend out of pity, and suddenly everything's all awkward between you. Relationship drama? Just another Thursday in the life of Peter Parker, teen heartthrob.

The light turned green, opening the floodgates for New York's regular storm of high-speed traffic. Any sane person would've noticed the change and stopped at the edge of the crosswalk.

But six-year-olds weren’t the sanest people ever.

Honk honk. “Ahh-!”

Thwip. An elastic strand of sticky goodness sent the little girl flying back to the sidewalk.

“Hey!” A red-and-blue-clad hero landed at the girl's side. “You okay?”

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man!” Immediately, the girl threw her arms around his waist.

“Please, Mr. Spider-Man is my dad. Call me Spidey.” Spider-Man knelt to put a hand on her shoulder. “Didn't your mom ever tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?”

The girl stayed quiet, eyes on her shoes.

“Actually…” Spidey glanced around. There were plenty of onlookers, but none were running forward to claim the kid. “…where is your-?”

“Get your hands off my daughter.” She was, naturally, right behind him. The woman looked like a slightly younger Aunt May, only about a gazillion times less endearing.

“Hey, there you are,” said Spider-Man. “Your kid was all alone-”

“I know all about you!” snapped the woman. “I read the Bugle!”

“Oh, well, then, clearly you're an enlightened individual.”

“Get your hands off my daughter!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Spidey swung off without another word.

“Thsizzastckp,” the man muttered.

“What?” asked the girl behind the counter.

The man sighed and poked his gun further out his jacket pocket. “This is a stickup,” he said slower. “Gimme all your money. But, err, don't make a scene or nothin'.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” The girl wasted no time emptying the contents of her cash register. The robber stuffed it in his jacket, then did his best to look casual as he exited the drug store.

Thwip. “Ah, trying to do a stealth robbery, are we?” said a brightly-colored man dangling upside-down off a nearby lamp post. “That seems to be a popular Spidey-evasion method with the crooks these days. Well, sorry to tell you this, but you've gotta get up pretty early in the morning to pull a fast one on your friendly neighborhood-”

Unfortunately, Spidey couldn't finish the quip because the thug made a run for it. Ugh, he hated when that happened. All that A-material wasted.

“Heavens to Betsy!” said Spider-Man, hopping after him. “The Sinister Six, I can handle, but I might have met my match with Generic Drug Store Robber Man.” He smashed his middle and ring fingers into his palms.

A little too hard, apparently. There wasn't just a thwip – There was an ear-splitting KER-SPLOOSH.

The dust cleared to reveal what looked like ground zero of a web fluid asteroid impact. There was webbing over the sidewalk, the shop windows… Heck, it'd even trapped a few cars at the edge of the road. In fact, it’d trapped just about everything except the fleeing thug.

“What the-?” You couldn't really tell with the mask on, but Peter’s jaw was hanging open. “No. I must've mixed up the formula wrong.” That's when he spotted the misshapen lumps under his gloves. “And now my web-shooters are broken.”

Great, he’d have to catch the thug the boring way. Spider-Man sprinted after the guy… only to watch his target drop into an open manhole in the street.

“Aw, dude, come on!” Spidey knelt over it, peering at the murky goop below. “I just washed these tights! You really gonna make me chase you down there? Okay, y’know what, I’m done. I’m tattling on you to the cops. Pretty sure covering themselves in sewage is demanded by their Oath of Honor.”

“Spider-Man!” Speak of the devil. Spidey spun to find a pair of officers racing towards him, though they couldn't get too close unless they wanted their feet glued to the pavement by the mess Spider-Man had left behind. They were a weasel-faced man and a short-haired, darker-skinned woman who Spidey recognized as Sergeants Carter and DeWolff.

“Hey, Web-Head.” Carter grinned at the chaos. “The guy got away, huh? Next time, try using more web-fluid.”

“Shut up.”

DeWolff, however, was less enthused. “Isn't stopping petty thieves beneath you?” she spat. “The police could've handled this. You didn't have to use this much webbing.”

“My web-shooters broke.”

“What?” DeWolff looked lost. “Broke? Aren't your webs organic?”

“No, they're- Look, it's not important.” Spidey buried his palm in his forehead. “Just let me clean up my mess-”

“If you’re going to stick around, why not come with us to the station so we can ask you a few questions?” DeWolff stepped towards him.

“Oh, darn, I forgot to water my plants!” Spidey pounced into the air and fired a web... and then smacked into the pavement. Oh. Right.

Slowly, Spidey turned back to the officers. “No one. Say. Anything.” He jumped on to the wall, sprinted up a building, and vanished over the rooftop.

Spider-Man wasn’t hiding. He was just… loitering a bit until those cops left. Spidey dangled his legs over the edge of the rooftop, gazing up at the sunset over the Hudson.

“I’m not pathetic,” he said. “I bet lots of other superheroes have problems getting around.”

Whoosh. He was lucky he didn’t go blind – Out of nowhere, a brilliant orange streak shot across the sky.

“Huh? What?” Spidey sprang back, rubbing his eyes.

The cheers from below told all he needed to hear:

“It’s HIM!”

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, JOHNNY STORM just flew past me!”

The whole street had gone berserk, filling the air with phones and white flashes. People were no doubt hoping to spice up their timelines with some blurry pics of the legendary Human Torch, fire-spewing hero extraordinaire, before he vanished on the horizon.

Yeah, that’s right, Spider-Man wasn’t the only superhero in Manhattan. He was just the only one who happened to be a poor person. See, ever since World War II, when technology had advanced to the point where gaining superpowers went from science fiction to science fact, throwing on a brightly-colored costume to fight crime had become something of a tradition among the superhuman community. Yes, yes, Spider-Man admitted it, he was riding the coattails of a fad. Well, his had originally been a wrestling costume, but he’d repurposed it once he’d learned what came with great power.*

*On the “Ask Greg” section of the Station Eight Gargoyles fan site, Greg Weisman revealed that the Fantastic Four do indeed exist in the Spec Spidey universe and “probably made their debut in November of Pete's sophomore year,” but they only fight large-scale and/or cosmic threats. – Ed

Spidey watched the orange streak draw near one of the taller structures in Manhattan’s skyline. The giant, three-dimensional “4” carved into the top made it pretty hard to mistake it for anything but the Baxter Building, home of the Fantastic Four, the superhero team of which Torch was member number… three? Two? Kinda hard to keep that straight when they all had the same number printed on their costumes. Spider-Man wouldn’t be caught dead in that getup.

Actually, one of the Web-Head’s very first actions last summer had been to pay the Baxter Building a visit, but the Four had somehow gotten the impression that Spider-Man was some kind of creep. Human Torch may or may not have tried to light Spider-Man on fire, and a gratuitous fight scene may or may not have broken out, but eventually, Mister Fantastic (A.K.A. Reed Richards), the leader, had used his living-Stretch Armstrong powers to block Spidey’s path and interrogate him, and then Spider-Man had said he wanted on their payroll, and then Invisible Girl (A.K.A. Susan Storm) had politely explained that the Fantastic Four was a non-profit organization, and then the Thing (A.K.A. Ben Grimm) had told him to get lost.

Hmmph. The Four had apparently gained their superpowers when mysterious cosmic rays hit their spaceship… which Spidey could only assume had also fried their brains.

Spider-Man’s eyes traveled to the misshapen, tumor-like lumps on his wrists beneath the spandex. What was he doing, lounging around grumbling about the veteran superheroes? It wasn’t like they’d ever helped him a day in his life. The FF had debuted months before that fateful spider bite, but apparently all the brand new supervillains rampaging around the streets of Manhattan were beneath their notice. The Fantastic Four, as they liked to explain on every late-night talk show, were primarily focused on “cosmic” threats – though they seemed more than happy to let Spider-Man deal with Venom (cough cough CHARLATANS cough).

Well, who needed ’em? The Web-Head could manage perfectly fine on his own, thank you very much. What was all their money good for, anyways? Saving lives didn’t cost anything!

Spider-Man stood, turned towards the Queensboro Bridge in the distance, fired a web-shooter… and then listened to the pathetic little spurt it made.

“Oh. Right.”

The man had been pretty invested in reading the newspaper, but his attention was torn away when he noticed the person in the seat next to him was wearing a skintight red and blue suit.

“Hey! Are you the real Spider-Man?”

“Uh huh,” said the real Spider-Man.

“What’re ya takin’ the subway for? Why aren't you, y'know, web-swinging to wherever you wanna-?”

“This is so unfair!” Spidey threw his arms in the air. “I bet Human Torch never run out of fire…”

“You ran outta webs?” His fellow passenger looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should see a doctor-?”

“THEY'RE NOT ORGANIC.”

“Back so soon?” Bruce gave Peter another one of his dry stares. “Either you made a big sale, or you just couldn't help yourself and smoked the entire-”

“I'M NOT MAKING DRUGS.”

“Ugh.” The door creaked shut behind Peter. The last traces of daylight had faded by now, so the only illumination in here came from the living room’s reading lamps. All these shadows no doubt elevated Peter’s facial expression from scowling to bloodthirsty.

“Peter! Welcome back,” said a voice from the opposite doorway. Aunt May was standing by her bedroom door in her nightgown, and no amount of shadows could make her face look anything but heartwarming. “Always good to see you here before curfew. How’s your day been?”

Peter stood in place a moment. “Good. It was- It was, y’know, it was fine.” He probably should’ve told her about how he’d run around all day being happy and productive and well-adjusted, but his brain was in no condition to be making crap up.

“Well, now that you’re back, I need to be off to bed.” Aunt May gave one last smile before drifting away into her room. Yeah, somehow Peter’s answer had failed to grab her interest.

The moment she was gone, Peter collapsed onto the sofa. His eyes squeezed shut.

“Truth is, Aunt May, today’s been kinda stressful.” Peter’s mouth formed the words, but his throat stayed still. “I saved a little girl from getting squished in traffic, and as a reward, her mom chewed me out, and then I broke my web-shooters for the first time since I built them, so who knows how long it’s gonna take to fix ’em? Oh, and then a crook got away and the cop was real snippy with me. See, because when I save people’s lives, it’s wrong because I can’t afford a fancy tower headquarters, not like the illustrious Johnny Storm, see, because he can cash in on his heroism because he doesn’t have to wear a mask because- because I guess he doesn’t have an aunt with a weak heart or a best friend who’d go all Inigo Montoya if he learned the truth, and he can probably get whatever girl he wants just by telling her his name. Oh yeah, have I ever mentioned that before, Aunt May? Have I ever mentioned that I spend my free time dressing in a campy costume to fight crime? No? Well, gosh, I hope that doesn’t stress you out or anything.”

Peter forced himself to exhale as he sank into the cushions. What’d happened to him? Last summer, swinging and punching and wise-cracking had been the most fun things ever. The loneliness part had really crept up on him, hadn’t it? It was surreal – Sometimes, Peter would swear the illusion was true, that Peter Parker and Spider-Man really were two different people.

He guessed he couldn’t blame himself. Peter had literally never spoken to a soul about his masked exploits since the spider bite. Okay, besides Eddie Brock. Yeah, he'd make a great therapist for Peter.

Peter shook his head, causing the grizzled face of Captain Stacy to flash through it. Well, Peter didn't know for a fact if Gwen's dad knew his secret, but... come on. Come onnnn. But what was Peter supposed to do, go up to him after criminology and say, “Excuse me, Captain Stacy, I'm constantly battling supervillains and it's traumatized me. Can I cry on your shoulder?”

Peter buried his head in his hands. And on top of everything else, now he wasn't just broke, he was double broke because his stupid shooters had busted and he'd wasted all his web-fluid. And right after he’d had to buy a new camera, too.That shouldn’t have been such a surprise, really. Those poor web-shooters had been working overtime since summer. They were bound to give way eventually, and really, better it happen against a random mook than a supervillain, right? And at least, with so little crime to fight lately, the web-explosion had made for some pictures Jameson would eat up. Peter could see the headlines already: “SPIDEY WEBS HIS PANTS.”

Peter wondered if it’d be worth it to let the symbiote possess his brain just so he'd have unlimited webs.

“...believe it or not, the singer's baby was found driving the car for a fourth time. And now we bring you to an exclusive interview with the head of the Daily Bugle, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson.”

Peter's attention was turned to the TV, which had been left on with the volume low. The face of the greatest human being in the whole world was plastered across the screen.

“So tell me, Mr. Jameson,” said the news anchor, “why the vendetta against Spider-Man in particular?”

“The answer's simple, Trilby,” said Jameson, looking quite pleased with himself. “The Wall-Crawler wears a mask. What's he got to hide, huh? The people don't need to worship some vigilante who doesn't answer to anyone but himself. What New York needs is a higher caliber of hero. Someone selfless and brave. Someone like – picking at total random here – Colonel Jupiter. Now there was a superhero!” He glared into the camera, as if he was staring at Peter himself, and added, “At least until Spider-Man ruined him.”

“That's it.” Peter grabbed the remote and smashed the power button. “You're welcome for saving your son from alien spores, you-” He proceeded to use a word the Comics Code wouldn’t have approved.

Peter buried his head in the couch cushions. This royally sucked. He had no (ANGST WARNING) money, no girlfriend, no- no uncle. His best friends were both insane and hated either Peter or Spider-Man or both. The public hated Spider-Man when he had done literally nothing but save lives his entire career. The Parker household was still paying the bills from Aunt May's heart attack. The Connors had moved away, meaning Peter's internship at ESU was now being handled by that skeevy Warren guy. And thanks to Venom, Spider-Man's secret identity was all over the internet. In auto-tuned dance remix videos!

Peter groaned and rolled over on the couch cushions. Yay. Being Spider-Man was so much fun.

“Tell me there's something better...”

Had Peter kept the TV on, he would have caught the part where the news anchor said, “And here in the studio for our second exclusive interview, we have the little girl who, as seen in this dramatic phone footage, was almost abducted by Spider-Man until her mother scared the Wall-Crawler off.”

The camera zoomed in on the girl's unfathomably innocent face.

“See? What I tell you?” came Jameson's voice from offscreen. “How much more proof do you need he's a menace?”

“How did it feel?” asked the anchor. “Were you scared?”

“No,” the little girl said simply. “Spider-Man didn't try to a-duck me. I didn't look both ways before crossing the street, and I was gonna get hit by a car, and then Spider-Man saved me.”

“Hubba-wha?” came Jameson’s voice again.

The little girl smiled into the camera, revealing a few missing teeth. “Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man.”

No matter how the man’s lungs screamed, he didn’t dare slow his pace. He’d just been- and Spider-Man was- and there’d been webbing everywhere. It’d exploded! He didn’t know Spider-Man’s webs could do that!

Mind racing, the thug dived into the only available hiding spot – an open manhole. It was rancid in here, but surprisingly spacious.

“Aw, dude, come on!” came his pursuer’s voice from the surface. “I just washed these tights! You really gonna make me chase you down there? Okay, y’know what, I’m done. I’m tattling on you to the cops.” His voice grew fainter and fainter. “Pretty sure covering themselves in sewage is demanded by their Oath of Honor...”

But even with Spider-Man gone, still the man did not relax. He continued his trek through the sewers in silence, doing his best not to think about all those stories of alligators living down here… or the pictures of the giant lizard monster he’d seen in the paper that one time.

The man rounded the corner- “Gah!” -and was met with something big and green staring at him. The man fell on his butt, getting his only good jeans soaked.

After a horrifying second, though, he realized this wasn’t the face of a lizard. It was… a mask. One of several green masks spread out on some kinda work bench, along with purple hoods. And beside them were metallic racks containing rows opn rows of round, orange thingies, like miniature basket balls. And on the ground beside them were these, like, giant robot bats.

Wait. The man had seen pictures of these in the paper, too.

“See, boss, it’s all right where I said it was!” The man ushered a second man into the hideout, one wearing a heavy (but highly fashionable) overcoat. “This must be, like, the Green Goblin’s secret lair or somethin’.”

“Yes,” said the second man. “There’s no question of that. You’ve done well.”

“Aw, gee, thanks, boss.”

The second man inspected one of the metal racks. “Hmm. This little find will have to remain between the two of us.”

“You don’t gotta worry ’bout that, boss. I won’t tell nobody.

“Yes,” said the second man. “I know you won’t.”

The last thing the first man saw was something round and orange flying at his face. The last thing he heard was an explosion that sounded like laughter.

Chapter Text

You could always tell when Peter and Gwen were near each other by the radius the crowd made. They’d just about emptied the whole hallway this time – The both of them in such close proximity generated far more nerdiness than the other students could handle.

“…maybe if you’d actually studied for longer than five minutes,” Gwen was saying.

“Hey!” Peter held out his hands, innocent. “It’s not my fault English is, like, my worst subject. It’s all so subjective, and-”

A scoff escaped Gwen’s mouth. “Peter, you wrote that Lord of the Flies was ‘an uplifting tale of children overcoming adversity.’”

“Yeah, I only read the first chapter.”

The remark brought a laugh from her. Which had been Peter’s intention. Obviously. But really, he’d take any words he could get from Gwen, no matter how disparaging. Anything beat that days-long silence they’d finally managed to break.

As the pair journeyed down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, Peter’s eyes drifted to his phone. The internet was still aflame over the bomb the Daily Bugle had dropped this morning – Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin. Aunt May had still been skeptical, but apparently, the Bugle had gathered enough eyewitness accounts and cell phone footage of the Web-Head’s midair duel with Gobby to confirm it. About time.

But Peter clicked his phone screen off before Gwen could glance at it. At the moment, they were scrambling to talk about literally anything else. No need to let Gwen dwell on that nightmare.

“So, uh…” Peter cleared his throat. “…how’s Harry been?”

Gwen’s eyes were fixed dead ahead. “Good. He's been good.”

“Good,” said Peter.

“Yeah, good.”

There was silence.

“Did you get my texts?” asked Peter (Said texts included, “When R U breaking up w/ Harry?”, “R we still an item? :( ”, and “On a scale of 1 to 10, how devastated would Harry be if you broke up with him right now?”).

“I... did get them, actually,” Gwen said. “But Peter, the thing is, I-”

“What have we here?” Harry chose that exact nanosecond to teleport between them. “My best bud chatting it up with my girlfriend. What’re you guys up to, planning my surprise party?”

The remark caused a cold, dead silence to emanate. Well… they’d planned a surprise for him.

“I-I was just asking about the English exam.” Gwen shrank under her boyfriend’s gaze.

Whoa, what the heck? Peter had seen Gwen stand up to Flash, but now Harry was pushing her around? That set off all kinds of red flags.

“Uh, you okay, Hare?” Peter’s eyes traveled over the guy. Harry had always been kind of a sickly kid, but now his skin was downright spongy, and his usual sweater vest was soaked in perspiration.

“Oh, I’m good,” Harry said with a sudden, mysterious air. “Nothing a little R and R can’t fix.” The mystery was short-lived, though – The next second, he’d whipped out a pair of rectangular paper cards, one for each of them.

Gwen was the first to accept. “You are cordially invited,” she read aloud, “to spend spring break traveling by private jet to Miami Beach for an all-expenses-paid stay at the Osborn Winter Compound.”

“A vacation?” Peter did a double take. Wow. He’d swear he’d been getting, like, vaguely sinister vibes from Harry ever since the funeral, but he guessed Harry was still cool with him after all. “W-Wow, thanks, bro. That sounds great. The three of us hanging out. Just like old times.”

But that remark made something like amusement cross Harry’s face. “Uh, not quite…” He pointed a thumb at three more oncomers – MJ and Kong with Flash bringing up the rear (His cast may finally have been removed, but his leg was still a bit on the stiff side). And in each oncomer’s hand was an identical slip of unnecessarily glossy paper.

“Osborn, dude, you rock!” Kong called out, waggling his invitation around.

“Well,” Mary Jane said with one of those self-satisfied little smirks of hers, “if you’re gonna throw your money around, can’t say I mind you tossing some in my direction…”

Flash was the last to reach his new vacation host. “Before you get any ideas, Osborn-” His head titled downwards to meet Harry’s eyes. “-this does not make us even for the football thing.”

Harry cocked a brow. “So you’re not going?”

“I didn’t say that!”

This called for a triple take. Okay, y’know what, inviting MJ to the beach, that made sense. There was a discernible motive there. But Flash and Kong? Really? Flash and-? Oh, wait, Peter knew. Harry was still doing that thing where he sold his soul in exchange for high school popularity.

“Oh. My. Gawd.” Speak of the devil, a sudden noise threatened to rupture Peter’s eardrums. That’d be Sally. Her voice could pierce the Rhino's hull. “Harry!” She ran towards him, waving an invitation of her own. “I just found dis in my locka, and all I have to say is… you can be my super-dweeb sugar daddy anytime you want!”

Harry looked like he wouldn’t have minded accepting a hug from her, but the football player standing guard of Sally changed his tune “You okay with that, Rand?”

But Rand, of course, merely replied with the customary shrug of his oversized shoulders. “S’cool. You can be my super-dweeb sugar daddy, too.”

Peter fought down the resulting mental image. “Exactly how many people did you invite?”

“Just a handful,” said Harry, turning back to him. “It’s a couples thing. Kenny and Glory, Flash and Sha Shan, Rand and Sally, Hobie and Mindy, me and Gwen, oh, and you and Liz, of course.”

“They broke up, actually.” The words came a bit too quickly from Gwen’s mouth.

“You did?” It was Harry’s turn to give Peter a double take. “Aw, I’m sorry, bro, I had no idea. Guess I’ve been…” He faltered. “…distracted lately.”

On sheer impulse, Peter placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s cool, dude. I get it.”

Harry gave a slow nod. “That’s what the trip’s for. To clear my head, y’know?” He paused, then glanced back at Liz. “Man, though, you two were great together. What happened?”

There came a silence, during which time Peter fought with all his might not to let his eyes dart to Gwen. “It just… didn’t work out, I guess.”

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance you could start over with her-?”

“Nope, sorry, window’s closed foreva.” Sally seized the chance to butt in between them, and for once, Peter was kinda glad.

Beside Sally, Liz nodded. Her eyes fell on Peter just long enough to send a shudder down his spine. “It’s way too late for that,” she said. “I’m wiiiith… Jason now.” A sudden tug on the arm sent Jason Ionella flying towards Liz’s side.

Interesting how her boyfriend just so happened to be the first guy who’d walked past her down the hall while she was talking. Jason didn’t exactly seem to protest, though. He was flustered, sure. But he didn’t protest.

“We totally fell in love doing the play together,” said Liz, hands on Jason’s shoulders. “You don’t mind if I bring him instead of Petey, do you?”

It took Harry a moment to reply. That might’ve had something to do with the rate at which Liz’s eyelashes were fluttering. “S-Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Thanks! You’re the best!” Liz surprised Harry with a hug, then scurried off down the hall. After a second, a distinctly disoriented-looking Jason followed suit.

“Yeah.” Come to think of it, Harry was a bit disoriented-looking, himself. “I am the best.” But soon enough, he’d turned back to Peter. “So, uh, anyways, Pete, if you burned bridges with Liz, you could always ask MJ instead.”

“Y-Yeah, guess I could.” Peter’s gaze returned to Gwen. Her eyeballs were manning their battle stations. “But doesn’t she already have a boyfriend, though?”

“Well, she did,” said Harry, “but he’s in jail now, isn’t he?”

“Thanks,” spoke up MJ from the sidelines. “I hadn’t been reminded in the last five minutes.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry said hurriedly, wincing. “It’s just, y’know, you and Pete kinda blew us all away at the Fall Formal.” He glanced to his girlfriend. “Remember that, Gwen?”

“Oh, I remember,” said Gwen in a voice that wouldn’t have been out of place in the mouth of a horror movie villain.

Peter glanced at Gwen again. Then he glanced at Mary Jane. Somehow, that glance ended up lasting a tad longer. “I… guess we could go together. As friends! Just as friends.”

At this, Mary Jane opened her mouth… only to be drowned out by the bell.

“Agh, gonna be late…” Harry was forced to run off without another word.

MJ was, too, but not before shooting Peter a look. “Meet me tomorrow after class, Tiger. You and me gotta talk.”

“Sure.” Peter paused. “Wait, like, a good talk or a bad talk?”

“I’ll leave you in suspense.”

And with that, Peter and Gwen were alone in the hallway.

Peter gave her a look of apology. “Soooo… what does happen in Lord of the Flies?”

Gwen’s look was, uh, less apologetic. “All the kids go crazy and murder each other.”

“Ah ha ha ha… Wow. That’s- That’s kinda far-fetched.”

“Is it, though?”

Thwip, thwip.

Even a backflip through the frisky nighttime air failed to clear Spider-Man’s head. And neither did a loop-de-loop around a flagpole.

If Peter didn’t know any better, he’d think Harry was trying to torture him and Gwen. Yeah. How dare he try and hook Peter up with the fun, foxy redhead with the creamy skin and the perfectly-shaped lips and the seductive voice and the-?

No, bad Spider-Man! Very, very bad! What was wrong with him? He was in love with Gwen. Gwen. Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy. They just had to power through the next few weeks until Harry was in a better place, and then Peter and Gwen could-

“Gah!” Peter nearly smacked his head against a concrete wall before he managed to fire his next web-line. Stupid duct tape made the trigger less sensitive…

“Peter Parker is, Peter Parker is SPIDER-MAN! Peter Parker is, Peter Parker is SPIDER-MAN!”

The footage was looped backwards and forwards to make it look like Venom was dancing.

Da na-na-na-na, da na-na-na-na- na .

Peter stared at the computer screen for a solid minute. He wondered if it was possible to hang himself with his own webs.

“What's that, Parker?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Peter closed out the tab before Mr. Robertson could get near. “I was just, uh...”

Mr. Robertson barely concealed a smirk. “Don’t tell me you're using the Bugle's computers to look at things you shouldn't be?”

Peter fought the urge to make a quip about Venom's sexy dance moves.

Of course, what he’d really been doing was making the discovery that the internet’s memory was somewhat longer than the mainstream media’s. Peter even had a bustling cult- sorry, fan community on a little old website by the moniker of the ‘Peter Parker is Spider-Man’ forum. Its founder and top moderator went by the username “Guess Who?” (though he hadn’t logged in since January).

“Say, though, are you good with computers?” asked Mr. Robertson, taking a sip of his coffee. “I know things have been slow around here lately. If selling pictures isn't enough to cut it, we've been looking for a new web designer.”

“Thanks, I'll think about it,” Peter said, rising from computer chair. “So is the Jolly One here yet?”

“He just went into his office.”

“Thanks.” Peter braced himself, then marched his way across the newsroom.

En route he crossed the Bugle’s newest employee, a withered old glasses-wearing dude with a scraggly beard named Ben Urich (The man, Peter meant. Not the beard. The beard didn’t have a name). Currently, the guy was going on to anyone who’d listen about Daredevil, the supposed new vigilante who’d started operating in Hell’s Kitchen a few weeks back. Daredevil was basically the same as Spider-Man, except instead of a spider motif, he had a devil motif, and instead of webbing people, he bonked them on the head with a pair of billy clubs.

But Peter pushed past Urich, instead heading straight for the open the office door. Instantly, his ears were inundated with: “-and if you don't bring me my blood pressure medicine in four-point-eight seconds, you're FIRED!”

“E-Excuse me, Mr. Jameson?” Peter nearly tripped over a fleeing Benny-the-copy-boy on his way inside.

Jameson spun in his desk, his mustache quivering with barely-restrained rage. Peter handed him a feeble stack of photos.

Jameson stared at them like they were diseased. “What's this s’posed to be?” He worked his way through the pile in seconds, tossing photos every which way. “Crap, crap, giant crap, crap, crap- Hey.” Finally, he reached the very last photo in the stack (Its placement had been deliberate, for the record). “This one.” He held the picture out to Peter, a slimy grin on his face.

Reluctantly, Peter looked at it – the one photo in the batch that was of a web-filled sidewalk, complete with Dewolff making an angry face at Spider-Man.

“Looks like the Web-Head had a little accident.” Jameson cackled to himself. “The headline writes itself: Spidey Webs His Pants! Guess the freak can't control his powers as well as he thinks he can.”

“Maybe his web-shooters just malfunctioned,” muttered Peter.

“What are you talking about, Parker?” Jameson snorted. “Spider-Man's webs are organic. Everyone knows that. Now get out of my office! I'm a busy man!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter reached for the doorknob, but then he stopped himself. “Wait a minute, I'm not just handing over that picture for free!”

“Geez, kid, it's just one picture,” said Jameson, leaning back in his chair. “How much do you want from me?”

“Well...” Peter's eyes met his shoes. “Aunt May and I have been stretched thin lately. A little extra wouldn't hurt.”

He already knew the answer before it flew out of Jameson's mouth alongside all the spittle. “Do I look like I'm made of money, Parker? You want extra? Then how about you take some pictures of that Oscorp ceremony thingy that's going on today?”

“The one for Harry’s mom?” said Peter. “I was already planning on going.”

“You come back from it with pictures of the supervillain that attacks it, and then we'll see about getting you 'a little extra.'”

“Sure thing, JJ-” Peter did a double-take. “Wait, how do you know a supervillain will attack it?”

“Oh please, I know the drill by now,” said Jameson. “It's a fancy party for a shady company. Some bad guy in a stupid costume will attack it for whatever reason, and then Spider-Man will show up, probably collaborating with him, and you need to be there to take pictures of it.”

“Come on, we don't get supervillains that often.”

“Hand over your money or face the wrath of THE GRIZZLY!”

Pedestrians were sent fleeing through the streets as a gigantic man tugged on a lady's purse. He was actually in incredibly good shape, and his eyes were a striking emerald color, but these qualities were somewhat overshadowed by the fact that he was dressed from head to toe in a brown bear costume, with his head inside the bear's mouth like it was eating him.

“Lemme guess-” Thwip. “-the grizzly bear's your spirit animal?”

A strand of gray goop hit the Grizzly in the back of the neck. He spun to snarl at the costumed do-gooder hanging on a nearby building. “Spider-Man! How dare you interfere? I will rip the marrow from your bones-”

“No, wait, I've got it.” Spidey sprang off the building and over the Grizzly's head. He landed behind him and delivered a sweeping kick to the guy’s legs, his mouth running the whole time. “You missed your convention, so you got mad and decided to snatch a purse?”

“YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?”

Spidey ducked a claw-swipe. “Hey, does a bear-? Well, I’m sure you’d know the answer to that one.” He fired his webs... only to hear a click instead of a thwip. Oh yeah, Spidey's web-shooters were currently being held together with duct tape, and consequently, they jammed every third time. Spider-Man remembered this fact right in time to receive a full-on Grizzly tackle.

“I really hope you wash this thing regularly,” said Spidey, yanking his face out of the Grizzly's fuzzy chest.

“I want nothing more than to taste your flesh!” The Grizzly wrapped his arms around Spidey and squeezed.

“How 'bout a taste of spider-punch?”

Crack. Spidey slammed his fist into the Grizzly's gut. The Grizzly roared with pain, releasing Spider-Man and tumbling backwards.

“Wait, didn't Chameleon use that line once?” said Spider-Man. “Eww, now I feel dirty. Dirtier than from wrestling with you, I mean.”

The Grizzly, however, didn't seem to have heard him. He was too busy rolling around on the sidewalk. “AGH! You broke my freakin' ribs!”

“Really?” Under the mask, Spider-Man blinked. “I mean, I didn't pull my punch, but don't you have super strength or something?”

“No! Oh God, I need a hospital...”

“So... So you're telling me...” Spidey's voice shook. “...you don't have any superpowers at all? You're seriously just a regular dude in a bear costume?”

Grizzly gave a feeble nod.

Spidey snickered. Then he burst into hysterics.

“It's not funny!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Without further ado, Spidey webbed the Grizzly up and slung him over his shoulder. “So, uh, if it doesn't give you powers, why the bear costume? You weren't actually on your way to a furry convention, were you?”

“I don't have to answer that.”

Okay, if that was the most fearsome supervillain Spider-Man had faced since Norman's death, he couldn't say he shared Jameson's optimism about the Oscorp ceremony getting attacked. Which was a good thing, really. Supervillains attacking people was bad. In fact, Peter was kind of hoping his web-slinging career would be smooth sailing from here on out. Heck, he'd already rounded up the last of the Pumpkin-Heads, seeing as without Gobby to direct them, they were less an elite army and more a bunch of misguided teenagers.

The only problem was a lack of supervillains didn't sell many pictures. Ah, well, maybe Peter would take Robbie up on that web designer job after all. Frig, he was gonna have to learn HTML, wasn’t he?

“Pete! Glad you could make it.”

Peter was shaken from his thoughts by the door swinging open. Out stepped Harry, who ushered Peter into his bedroom. The two of them had their hair brushed all tidy and were decked out in their nicest suits. One's suit was a bit nicer than the other's, though. No points for guessing whose.

Peter took a look around the bedroom. This place had been Harry's, Gwen's, and his old haunt for years. It had everything – shelves lined with books and comics, a gigantic bed, and an even bigger TV surrounded by every video game console known to man. A separate shelf held Harry's extensive video game library, every last one of which had been played to 100% by Harry and Peter. Harry's favorites were the Ratchet & Clank games, though Peter had always been more of a Spyro guy himself.

“I saw your balcony,” said Peter. “It looks really, uh...”

“Not exploded?” offered Harry.

“Yeah. That.”

“Mom wanted everything fixed up as soon as possible,” said Harry. “So there wouldn't be too many, y'know...” His eyes darted away. “...reminders.”

There was silence.

Peter took a breath. “Harry, listen, Spider-Man's one of the good guys. He's saved Liz, he's saved Gwen, he even saved your dad from the Vulture. Even at its worst, the Bugle's never accused the guy of murder. I'm sure Spider-Man didn't want your dad dead.”

“Yeah, I guess...” Suddenly, Harry grabbed Peter's shoulders. “Pete, you know Spider-Man, right? You take his pictures. Can you ask him to meet me? I just want to talk.”

Of course, Peter's first impulse was to say no way José, but he couldn't help but sense the urgency in Harry's voice. “I'll see what I can do.”

The smile returned. “Thanks, bro.”

Peter glanced back to the doorway, where he could hear the faint hum of conversation from outside. “Almost time for your mom’s ceremony to start. How you feeling?”

“Good,” Harry said immediately. “Bad. I don't know.” He sighed. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I almost can’t believe my dad really left me the company once I’m eighteen.” And until then, his mom would be running things for him, hence her inaugural ceremony here. “But it's gonna be beyond stressful, y'know?.”

“Harry?” Just then, Harry's mom stuck her head through the doorway. “Honey, it's time to start.”

“Coming, Mom.”

After that, Peter left Harry's room and slipped into the humongous crowd filling up the penthouse. The top floor looked like it'd never seen a pumpkin bomb eruption, and it was packed to the brim with nothing but old dudes in suits… with one important exception.

Peter caught sight of a certain blonde. He’d recognize that dress anywhere – It was the same one Gwen had worn last Valentine’s Day (courtesy of one Mary Jane Watson). Peter waved at her, but Gwen just frowned. He'd have loved to have a few words, but the ceremony chose that moment to start.

At the head of the crowd, a ginger man adjusted his glasses, then cleared his throat into the mic. Peter recognized him as Donald Menken, A.K.A. Mr. Green-Goblin-Red-Herring.

“It is my deep honor,” he began, deadpan as always, “to usher in a new era for Oscorp. An era heralded by a new mind brimming with potential. The mind of none other than Oscorp's new CEO, Mrs. Emily Osborn.”

Harry’s mom stepped up to the stage amid applause.

Aaaaand that was the last interesting thing to happen for the entire rest of the ceremony. Sheesh, Peter wished Jameson had been right. A supervillain attack would've at least livened things up. After approximately an eternity and a half, the long-winded speeches finally died down and the partygoers were allowed to mingle.

Peter, of course, jumped at the chance to dive headfirst into awkwardness. “Gwen!”

She turned and gave a strained smile. Her cheeks were already reddening. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi.” Peter creased his hair, smearing gel all over his fingers. “So…”

“So.”

“So.”

“Talking with Pete, are we?” Even that exchange had been enough to make Harry’s envy-sense tingle. He promptly inserted himself between the other two.

“Wh- Why wouldn't I talk to Peter?” Gwen shrank under his gaze.

“Harry, Harry!” But before Harry could reply, his mom ran up to the group. “Stand up straight and smile, honey. I want you to meet someone.”

“Really?” Harry corrected his posture, though his hand remained firmly stuck to Gwen's. “Who?”

“An incredibly wealthy philanthropist,” said Harry's mom, blinding them with her teeth. “Gives more to charity than everyone else in his income bracket combined. He's won the Nobel Peace Prize twice. And-” She whispered this next part: “-I think he wants to invest in Oscorp, so be nice.” She held out her arms towards the man walking towards them. “It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say this is the greatest, most selfless human being in New York. I want you to meet... Wilson Fisk.”

Peter had to stop his jaw from dropping. The man who approached them was... How could Peter put this? He was a bald guy in a white suit. Only it'd be more accurate to say he was ten bald guys in a white suit. Peter's first impulse was to run to the buffet table and grab food while there was still some left. Before this moment, he hadn't known human beings came in XL. Or more like XXXXXXXXXXXL. What on earth had happened to this man? Had he been bit by a genetically-altered whale?

…Okay, time to reign in the wisecracks. Something told Peter the Peace Prize-winning philanthropist didn’t deserve them.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, young man.” Fisk extended a beefy hand for Harry – complete with fingers the size of fire hydrants. “I see much potential in you, Mr. Osborn.”

“Oh no, the pleasure's all mine, sir.” Harry accepted the shake, a move Peter didn’t envy. Poor guy’s fingers were gonan get crushed into powder. “I hear you do great things.”

“I think of myself as more of a middleman,” said Fisk. “I merely give resources to others so they can do great things. It's companies such as Oscorp that truly advance the world.”

“Companies with your resources?”

Fisk smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Mr. Fisk?” Out of nowhere, a calm, deep, distressingly familiar voice hit Peter's ears. With a growing sense of dread, Peter turned to see yet another man in a suit approaching them. This one, while not as big as Wilson Fisk (not even remotely), wasn't exactly tiny, and with that balls-on-the-floor voice of his, he was the absolute blackest white guy Peter had ever met who was actually a black guy.

“L. Thompson Lincoln.” Tombstone extended an albino hand to shake. “It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

Ugh, if Fisk accepted that handshake, Peter was gonna hurl. Tombstone filed his teeth down to points! How did the whole world not instantly know he was evil?

Fisk's hands remained firmly at his sides. “I have nothing to say to you.” He turned away.

Okay, score some respect points for the fat guy.

“Well, I'm sorry you feel that way.” Tombstone retracted his hand like an embarrassed cat. “I can't imagine why you would.”

“Gee-” The words flew out Peter's mouth before he could stop them. “-maybe it's got something to do with that criminal empire you run in your free time?”

Gwen audibly gasped. The eyes of Tombstone, Fisk, Harry, and Harry's mom all snapped towards him.

“You seem familiar.” Tombstone's eyes narrowed. “I know who you are.”

Peter went even paler than him.

“That Daily Bugle photographer,” said Tombstone. “The one who takes pictures of Spider-Man. I suppose it makes sense that you'd think the worst of me, given your place of work.” He turned back to Fisk. “But I assure you, what the Daily Bugle printed about me was nothing short of slander. My involvement in the Valentine's Day brawl was an unfortunate accident, which Frederick Foswell capitalized on. The man is desperate to regain the glory of his Silvermane expose. And as any of the many, many criminals recently put away by Spider-Man will attest to, the 'Big Man' of crime was the late Green Goblin.”

“Those words might be better spent on that federal agent tailing you.” Fisk pointed to a man at the edge of the crowd, who immediately made an effort to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping.

Tombstone snorted, straightened his suit, and walked away.

Behind his back, Peter mouthed, “Oh SNAP.” He turned to Gwen, grinning like a maniac. “Looks like Wilson Fisk eats a lot of things, but Tombstone's BS isn't one of them.”

Gwen was gaping at him. “Wh-What? Why do you care so much about that Lincoln guy?”

“Oh, uh...” Peter's eyes wandered towards the ceiling. “Guess with all the effort the Bugle's put into flushing his name down the toilet, it's kinda hard not to.”

Just as Fisk was beginning to walk away, Peter scurried over to his side. “Excuse me, Mr. Fisk, sir?” Fisk took an idle glance at him. “I just wanted to say, sir, it's nice to have a rich guy around here who isn't corrupt. Tombstone could learn a thing or two from you.”

Fisk smiled at him. “I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment.” And with that, he walked off.

Well, Peter didn't have time to kiss Fisk's butt (The universe would have its heat death before he’d finished). He walked back towards Harry and Gwen… but before he could get near, his spider-sense blared like mad. “What the-?”

There was the sound of shattered glass, followed by screams from the partygoers. Something round and orange landed at Harry's feet.

“Get down-” Peter’s feet moved before his brain even realized it.

The bomb made a distressingly familiar shrieking sound as it exploded.

Chapter Text

When the pea-green smoke cleared, Harry, Peter, and Gwen were lying several feet from the blast radius. And Peter, incidentally, was face-down on top of the face-up Gwen, who he'd tackled to the floor. Peter wasn't sure if Gwen looked more terrified because of the bomb or… y’know.

“Get away-” Harry yanked Peter off by the arm.

“Hey, I saved her!” snapped Peter. “This is no time to get jealous-”

“Not from Gwen – from that.” Harry pointed to the wall-sized window leading out to the balcony – the recently repaired one that was now nothing but shards of glass.

But the more pressing issue was the thing above the shards – namely, the gargoyle-themed glider hovering in the air. And most pressing of all was… its rider. He had the same grin. The same crazed look in the eyes of his skintight mask. Even the same outfit – The only difference was that the purple and green color scheme had been swapped for orange and blue, and the hat had been traded for a hood, complete with a cape that billowed in the glider’s updraft. The man’s skin was pale yellow, his eyes blood red.

“Holy moly,” Peter breathed. “Jameson was right on the money. I can't believe I just said that.”

The next second, the flood of bodies was racing for the fire escapes.

“Gwen, c'mon!” Peter helped her to her feet, and then the party of him, Gwen, Harry, and his mom ran for the nearest exit.

“Leaving already, Osborn?” Unfortunately, the exit was soon blocked by a crazy person dressed as a goblin. “But I haven't even given you your commemoration present!” He lobbed another pumpkin bomb.

“Harry-!” cried a feminine voice.

Everyone dived out of the way yet again, but the blast left them scattered.

“Mom, wait!” Harry's mom had started towards him, but she froze at Harry's words. “You guys take the other exits. I-I think he's after me.”

“Interesting theory you’ve got there.” The Goblin retrieved another bomb as he circled the room. “How’d you like some more evidence?”

“Harry-!” Gwen started towards him, but Peter grabbed her arm.

“No time to argue! Down the stairs!” Peter didn't stop until he and Gwen were outside on the fire escape. “Geez louise, how many goblins are there?”

“Is- Is that Harry’s dad?” Gwen asked breathlessly.

“He survived a point-blank explosion and then decided to murder his own son?” said Peter. “Uh-uh. It's a copycat.” With that, he dashed back up the fire escape.

“What are you doing?” But his progress was halted by a hand on his arm.

“My- My boss asked me to take pictures if anything like this happened.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Gwen said nothing. Did nothing.

Peter ended up having to wrench himself free of her grasp. “Call the cops.”

“Okay,” Gwen said softly. “Okay. Just… don't be a hero.”

Emily Osborn wasn’t about to win any mother of the year awards. Before her husband died, she'd hardly given Harry the time of day. But to her credit, when a bomb-throwing maniac came out of nowhere to kill him, she stayed with her son, arms around him, the two of them huddling together in the emptied penthouse.

“I've gotta thank you two for staying in one convenient place like this,” said the goblin, bouncing the next pumpkin in his palm. “You wouldn’t believe the price of bombs in this economy. Who knew crippling fear could be so cost-efficient?” He hurled the bomb.

Thwip. But then it changed flight paths, instead detonating over the balcony. “Oh man, Gobbie, don't look now, but you're wearing orange.”

The goblin spun his glider in midair to find a certain arachnid stuck to the wall above a fire escape.

“Don't worry, it's cool, man, I get it – I went out in a pink costume once.” In one swift motion, Spidey bounded over the goblin's head, landing between him and the Osborns. “Friendly advice, try the detergents without bleach-”

“Ah, Spider-Man, I was hoping you’d turn up.” The goblin reached into his cloak… “Now I can polish off the Osborn lineage, Big Man, aspiring Big Man, and you all in one fell swoop!” …and retrieved two more bombs to hurl.

“Oh, you wanna kill Tombstone and usurp his empire?”Spidey ducked, then dived out of the way of the resulting shrapnel. “Yawn. Seen it. So you’re, what, the Green Goblin reboot no one asked for?”

Next, the goblin tried firing some lasers from his fingertips… which Spider-Man also effortlessly dodged. “The name's Hobgoblin. Nice to meet you.” In a blink, the glider shot towards Spidey like a battering ram. Even with his spider-sense, he took a direct hit to the gut.

“Sweet,” said Spider-Man, winded. “How much XP do I get for beating you?”

The next thing he knew, Spidey was outside the penthouse and miles above the cold, hard street.

“I'll have to make this quick.” Hobgoblin wiggled his glider, shaking the limp Web-Head off. “Wouldn't want my prey to escape, now would I?” With that, he flew back to the balcony, leaving Spidey to fall to his death.

Ha, dummy! Looked like he’d forgot about Spider-Man's web-shooters. Thwip. Spidey swung towards the Osborn penthouse, releasing his web at the peak of its arc and firing another one.

Click. Oh, right. Duct tape. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh-!”

Harry's mom was already halfway down the stairs, but Harry had only just put his foot in the fire escape when the Hobgoblin made his triumphant return to the penthouse.

“You're not getting off that easy, Osbrat.” Hobgoblin prepared to fire a finger-laser...

“Ta da!” But he wasn't expecting to be bear-hugged from behind. “Guess whose web-shooters decided to work in the nick of time?”

“I thought they were organic?” muttered Hobgoblin.

“Okay, just for that, you're getting a smack in the face.”

“Well, aren't you a persistent one?” Hobgoblin struggled to escape his grasp.

“Yeah, that's what makes me so lovable.” Spider-Man freed an arm so he could sock Hobgoblin right in the head. Hobbie went tumbling off his glider, and then Spidey sprang off, too. With no one left to work its pedals, the glider sailed out the window and off into the sunset, Western-style.

“You have officially gotten on my nerves.” Hobbie spun around on the floor, firing more finger-lasers, but Spidey flipped over each and every one.

In one smooth motion, Spidey turned the dodge into an attack, smacking Hobgoblin’s noggin once again – this time with his feet. There was an audible crack, and then the Hobgoblin crumbled to the floor, limp.

Spider-Man landed across from him, blinking. “I did it? Already? Huh.” Spidey brought his hands to his hips. So at the end of the day, the Hobgoblin was just a powerless poser in a stupid costume? Weird, that was the second one Spider-Man had fought today.

“I can't wait to see what creative new bad guys I face down next.” Spidey skipped towards the unconscious goblin. “The Buzzard, Zappo, the Iguana, the Surpriser, Dirtman, and let's not forget THE HIPPO.”

Spider-Man reached for the Hobgoblin's mask... and that's when his spider-sense tingled. “What the-?”

Blam. Spidey dodged a bullet by millimeters. Like, a literal bullet.

“Where-?” He turned towards the fire escape – where a pistol was being held in trembling hands. “Harry?”

“You killed my dad.” Harry fired off another couple shots, but none came close to hitting their mark.

“Harry, I-”

“Surprise!” The next split-second, the Hobgoblin sprang up to lob another bomb at Harry’s head.

“No-!” Thwip. The shooter didn't jam this time, thank god, meaning the pumpkin bomb was yanked away and detonated a safe distance from Harry's face. That screaming sound the bomb made as it blew up actually articulated Spider-Man's thoughts pretty well right about now.

“Go back to sleep, you!” Spidey gave the Hobgoblin another blow to the head, which seemed to knock him out completely. Then Spider-Man turned to Harry.

Harry dropped the gun to the ground. It fired into a wall.

It didn’t trigger his spider-sense, but that didn’t keep Spidey from flinching. “Have you lost it?”

Harry did, in fact, appear to have lost it. He was breathing heavily, eyes bulging.

“Ugh, whatever, I don't have time for this.” Spidey webbed Harry to the wall, then knelt to tug off the Hobgoblin's mask. “And the monster is... Old Man Withers!”

Actually, the Hobgoblin seemed to be a pretty young guy with red hair.

“Donald Menken?” Harry said from his spot on the wall.

“Oh yeah, that guy.” Spidey leaned in to examine the goblin closer. “Almost didn't recognize him without his glasses.”

“Makes sense,” said Harry, panting. “He was the only other person who knew about the Globulin Green. Not a stretch to think he found some spare equipment somehow.”

“Ohhhh, so he was a goblin, just not the Green Goblin. Of course. Now I feel silly.”

Hmm. Maybe no one else could tell, but Spider-Man had been holding back when he’d knocked out the Hobgoblin. Would the guy really have gone down so easy if he was on the Green? Something didn’t add up here… but Spidey would have to redo his math some other time.

He gave Menken a little web-fluid bath in case he woke up again. “Any clue why he'd want to kill you?”

“Probably jealous my dad left Oscorp to me and not him,” said Harry.

“You're welcome for saving your life, by the way.” Spider-Man turned for the balcony. “Funny way you've got of saying thank you.”

“I thought you'd knocked the guy out. I-I was shooting to wound. You're both criminals.”

“Yeah, well, next time a supervillain attacks you, you'd better hope Daredevil’s in town.” Spider-Man hopped off the balcony and swung off without another word.

I just want to talk, he says. Since when had Peter's best friend become a total creep? How was it that Harry had seemed more sane when Peter had thought he was Green Goblin? How much longer was Gwen gonna let Harry step all over her? And what was with Harry's irrational hatred of Spider-Man? Was irrational hatred of Spider-Man in vogue this season? Because that’d explain a whole friggin’ lot.

Thwip. Thwip. Click. It was as Spider-Man plummeted towards the pavement that he realized he hadn't taken a single picture all day.

“I told you, I don't know where I got the costume! I blacked out after my speech. And why would I want to murder the CEO of Oscorp, anyways? What would I gain from that?”

“Uh huh. Right.” Sergeant Carter gave Menken a shove as he led him away.

By now, the Osborn penthouse had traded its partygoers for police officers. The only other people remaining were Harry, Gwen, and his mom. Gwen squeezed Harry's hand. He could hardly keep himself from scowling at Menken's back.

Harry was torn. On one hand, Menken was no doubt a victim of the Green, no different from Harry and his dad. On the other hand, thanks to Menken, the night had ended with Harry being peeled off the wall by the police. His suit still had bits of webbing stuck to it

“Harry, Gwen!” The door swung open and Peter emerged from the stairwell, sporting a suit covered in wrinkles and skin covered in bruises.

“Peter, did you-? You're hurt.” Gwen all but shoved Harry aside in her rush to the doorway.

“I'm okay,” said Peter, rubbing the brown blotch on his forehead. “One of those pumpkin bombs blasted me out a window, that’s all. I would've been a goner if it wasn't for Spidey.” Hary could swear Peter looked smug. “I spent the last twenty minutes dangling off a web.” He turned to Harry. “Hey, bro, I told Spider-Man you wanted to talk to him, but he won't do it. He, err, says you tried to shoot him.”

“What?” Gwen gawked at Harry. “Is that why he webbed you to the wall?”

Harry’s fists clenched. “Don't you read the Bugle? Spider-Man's a criminal.”

“Yeah, a criminal who saved my life a gazillion times-”

“And who rings Pete's cell every time he wants his pic in the paper. Gee, what a selfless hero.” Harry scoffed. “And, like, he really thinks he can get away with crimes just by switching to a black costume?”

Gwen's eyes narrowed. “That black monster is not Spider-Man. I got a great look at the two of them together when I was dangling from a balloon.”

“I was almost blown up by a lunatic today!” spat Harry. “Do you really have to argue with me?”

That seemed to knock the wind from Gwen's sails. “O-Of course not, Harry. I'm sorry.”

As if sensing her distress, Captain Stacy approached them, putting his hands on Gwen's shoulders from behind. “I think we can all agree Spider-Man saved lives today. Now, I'd say it's time Peter and Gwen got home. They’ve been through enough for one night.”

After that, everything seemed to pass by quickly. The police asked a lot of questions, confiscated the Hobgoblin's equipment, and then ran off to look for his glider's crash site. Then, despite Harry's protests, his mom convinced him to go to his room to rest while she handled the reporters.

If there was one silver lining from the loss of Harry's father, it was that his mother was closer to him than she'd ever been. A couple months ago, she hadn't batted an eyelash when Harry joined the football team, and now she was fussing over him every time he flinched.

Harry shut the bedroom door behind him, then took a deep breath. So a maniac dressed like a goblin had tried to kill him. No big deal. Harry was the CEO of Oscorp now. This was the world he lived in. His father had been attacked by a maniac dressed like a vulture, and had he folded under pressure? Cowboy up.

“Well, you certainly kept me waiting.”

“What the-?” Harry spun around. There was a man in his bedroom. “How did you get in here?” His voice had cracked. “Security! Sec-”

“Uh-uh-uh.” The man leaned back in his seat. He sounded British and didn't look much older than Harry. Maybe in his twenties. Though the guy was trying to look even older, judging by that ill-fitting peguin suit he had on. What really set him apart, though, was his chair. It was something metallic and expensive-looking that hovered a foot off the ground. “You might want to keep quiet, little Osborn.” As he spoke, the man fished something out of his pockets – three silver orbs the size of golf balls. “I'd hate to think what would happen if we made a scene.”

In seconds, little metal legs unfolded from each orb, allowing them to spring from the man's hands and scurried towards Harry's feet like bugs. Before Harry could even react, the top of each orb unfolded, and out emerged miniature turrets. All three aimed at Harry's face.

“Isn’t modern technology something?” said the man. “Everything’s getting smaller these days. Phones, televisions, instant death lasers…”

Cowboy up. “What do you want?” Despite his best efforts, Harry’s voice shook. “Are you with the Hobgoblin?”

“Please, don’t insult me.” The man chuckled to himself. “Your father sent me.”

That did nothing to help the trembling. “My father's dead.”

“Yes, he is,” said the man, “but despite his affinity for dressing as a mythological creature and lobbing bombs at people, Norman Osborn wasn't crazy. He knew being the Big Man was a high-turnover job.” The man’s hoverchair moved in closer. “That's why, in the event of his untimely demise, Normie had a contingency plan in place.” He extended a hand. “My name is Alistair Smythe, and I'm the plan.”

Every last one of Peter's joints ached. The sidewalk had done more damage to him than Hobgoblin ever could. For not the first time, Peter gave a prayer of thanks that he healed fast. He needed to get home and fix his web-shooters. Really, it'd been stupid and dangerous to not fix them right away.

But unfortunately, there was one other item on the agenda before Peter could do that. He took a deep breath before opening the office door. He savored it – It could be his last.

“Mr. Jameson...”

Immediately, old picklepuss turned Peter's way.

“Good news and bad news, sir,” said Peter, bowing his head. “Good news is, you were right, there was a supervillain at the Oscorp ceremony. Bad news is, I couldn't get any pictures.”

“Ceremony? What ceremony? What are you doing in my office? I don't need your stupid pictures – I've already got the perfect front page right here!” Jameson held up a two-page spread.

“SPIDER-MAN HATES FURRIES,” proclaimed the headline. Beneath it was a picture of a man in a bear costume rolling on the ground, clutching his ribs in agony while Spider-Man pointed and laughed.

“What?” Peter's jaw dropped. “But that's not what- I mean, that's probably not what happened!”

“Shows how much you know.” Jameson snorted, shooting smoke through the air. “The Wall-Crawler sent this guy to the hospital. Maxwell Markham's just an average Joe who wanted to wear a bear suit. Why should superhumans be the only ones allowed to wear stupid costumes?”

“But- But-”

“Besides, it’s not like Spider-Man's one to be pointing fingers. What kinda spider’s bright red and blue? The guy looks like a jackass every time he goes out in public.”

“That does it. You don't need my stupid pictures? Then fine, I’m done taking them.” With that, Peter stormed out the office, slamming the door behind him.

“WHAT? HOW DARE YOU QUIT?” Jameson roared after him. “YOU'RE FIRED!”

In the central news room, Mr. Robertson gave Peter a look. “Everything alright, Parker?”

“Uh...” Peter's cheeks reddened. “How hard can HTML be, right?”

Harry stared at the hand hovering before him. “What do you want from me?”

“Well, I'd have thought that was obvious,” said Smythe. “Your father worked so hard to build up his empire. You really think he'd hand it over to some teenager and watch it crumble?”

“I can take care of Oscorp.” Harry could feel his throat tightening.

“Oh, I'm sure you could, except that would be a little difficult considering you don't even know what the point of Oscorp is.”

And now his fists were trembling. “And what would that be?”

Smythe laughed. “Where do you think all of Manhattan’s colorful crooks have been coming from? You think it's a coincidence that the last few months have seen the city's supervillainy spike a good six hundred percent?”

“I...” Harry's face fell. “I knew my dad was doing business with Hammerhead, but I never thought...”

“Norman had a good thing going,” said Smythe. “The Big Man commissioned super-mercenaries to distract Spider-Man, Oscorp built the prisons to contain said mercenaries... and then Norman decided to cut out the middleman and become the Big Man himself. The problem is, his death's screwed the whole project up.” He counted off on his fingers. “Sandman's dead, the Rhino and Molten Man are locked up in the Vault, and Spider-Man’s alive and well.”

“You want me to use Oscorp to… make supervillains?”

Smythe laughed again. “Personally, I'd have kept doing it behind your back. No, Harry, your father wanted you to use Oscorp to make supervillains. Said you had 'potential' or something. A trifle optimistic if you ask me. Ah, well, family has a way of blindsiding you. Lord knows I wouldn't be where I am today if my own daddy hadn't played favorites.”

“No.” Harry started to raise his voice, but then he took another wary glance towards the robots at his feet. “I-I mean, my dad was sick. He was out of his mind from the Globulin Green. I know what that stuff does to-”

“Wrong, junkie.” Smythe leaned back in his chair, snickering. “Norman took a gaseous form of the stuff in smaller doses than you. All the upsides, none of the downsides. You really think someone drugged out of their mind could run a criminal empire?”

“Wait.” For a moment, Harry's eyes glazed over. “There's a way to take the Green with no blackouts?” But then he caught himself. “You’re- You're saying my dad was the Goblin on purpose?”

“Ugh.” Smythe brought a palm to his forehead. “He warned me you'd be a baby about this. Yes, your father wasn't the most law-abiding citizen ever.”

“Liar.” The word escaped Harry’s mouth all on its own.

“Well, you don't have to take my word for it,” said Smythe. “Here, he left you a little something.” Hepressed a button on his armrest.

Instantly, a rectangle of light projected from the hoverchair, creating a floating screen in midair alongside some accompanying audio:

“When Captain America throws his mighty shield,

All those who chose to oppose his shield must yield!”

“What,” said Harry. It was more a statement than a question.

Within the holographic screen was grainy black and white footage of a star-spangled man fake-punching a man dressed as Hitler in the jaw. Harry knew that star-spangled man’s name on sight. You’d be hard-pressed to find a person in the country who didn’t know the name Steve Rogers.

“If he’s lead to a fight and a duel is due,

Then the red and the white and the blue’ll come through.

When Captain America throws his mighty shiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeld!”

No sooner had the song ended than the screen cut to a shot that made Harry’s pulse quicken – his dad in a dark room, glaring into the camera, hair and suit and voice and posture no different than the day before Spider-Man had blown him up.

“When my history professor showed my class this old propaganda video,” he said, “I saw something none of the other students could. I saw the future. I saw an army of Captain Americas replacing our military, all fueled by the Super-Soldier Formula. Think. It would be so much...” The video cut to footage of Hiroshima. “...cleaner.” When it cut back, Norman had folded his fingers together. “As far as I was concerned, the loss of that formula was the greatest tragedy ever to befall America, followed closely by the loss of Rogers himself. After that, the government abandoned its efforts to create superhumans in favor of... messier alternatives. So much wasted potential.”

Behind him appeared more black and white footage of a team of musclebound men in an array of skintight costumes: Captain America, the Whizzer, the Sub-Mariner, and the Human Torch – the original android one, not his human, pretty boy successor on the Fantastic Four. Every person in the country knew these men. They were, after all, the world’s first superheroes. Sure, it wasn’t so impressive in today’s climate of weekly supervillain attacks, but at the time, the public had been enamored. Super strength, super speed, power over water, over fire… And it didn’t hurt that the Human Torch had killed Hitler. By the present day, though, the Whizzer had failed to outrun old age, the Sub-Mariner had vanished (back to his home of Atlantis, if you were one of those weirdos who actually believed his claims), and the android Human Torch had long since broken down.

“But the future isn't predicted by standing around and wishing.” Norman’s eyes traveled straight through the camera. Straight through Harry. “You have to make it happen.” He paused. “Unfortunately, I was far from the only one to reach this conclusion. Ever since Rogers’s time, American corporationshave sought to recreate him. After all, the government’s proven so very incapable of doing so since the loss of their precious Formula. But what these corporations have to offer is something very different from what our government ever could – We want not soldiers of the U.S. military, but private mercenaries hired out to the highest bidder. And thus, for the past several decades, Manhattan has become a battleground for businesses and aspiring crime lords all vying for their own super-mercenary army. And I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he added sternly, “which corporation will be standing at the forefront. One day soon, the United States will usher in a new era, and Oscorp will be leading the charge.”

His eyes shut. “I realize I've done things others would call questionable, but mark my words, nobody's ever accomplished anything by being 'ethical.' The people who used Steve Rogers as a guinea pig certainly weren't. If you're watching this, it means you're already aware of the truth about the Green Goblin – and that I'm no longer alive. But just because I've failed doesn't mean my future has. I don't know what age you'll be or what circumstances you'll be in when you watch this. Maybe you'll be too young to understand. But someday you, too, will reach your full potential, son. And when that happens, I want you to continue my work.”

Norman smiled into the camera. Harry didn't think he'd actually seen his father do that before. “Don't let me down... Peter.” The hologram winked away.

Harry stared at the empty air.

“Oops.” Smythe's lips curled upwards. “Wrong contingency video. Hmm…” He skimmed through his armrest's buttons. “I'm sure yours is around here somewhere…”

“No, no.” Harry’s voice was hollow. “I get the idea. You want to make supervillains, right? To kill Spider-Man?”

“That's the gist of it, yes.”

Harry took a breath. “When do we start?”

Chapter Text

“Well, I guess you've finally learned my dark secret.” Gwen stared at the saxophone in her hands. “I'm a band geek.”

“No, no, it's cool.” Eddie watched the balloons drift by overhead. Despite the freezing November air, all he wore was a black t-shirt. Gwen, on the other hand, was decked out in the Midtown marching band uniform. It made her look like a complete nerd, but then, that line had been crossed a long time ago. “You look cute.” Eddie placed a hand on her shoulder, and then the two of them wordlessly walked out of the crowd.

“So where's Pete?” he took a glance behind them. “Didn't bother showing up? Guess that's not a surprise.”

“He's probably still visiting his aunt in the hospital,” said Gwen. “It's fine. Anyways, I'm glad you're here. At least someone's thinking of me.”

“Well, if it's any consolation, Pete likes you a lot more than he realizes.”

“Yeah.” Gwen fiddled with her glasses. “It'd just be nice if someone had a conscious crush on me for once.”

Silence.

“Eddie?” She turned around. No one there. “Where'd-?”

Thwip. Something black and slimy hit her mouth. The saxophone clattered to the pavement.

Thwip, thwip, thwip. More slime wrapped around her torso, then tightened. Gwen tried to scream, but it came out muffled. The rest of the band didn't even glance her way.

There was something on the alleyway wall. Something big and black. The milky white blotches on its head – eyes? – pointed right at her. It opened its mouth, revealing a set of jagged teeth. A long, slobbery tongue lagged out.

Gwen struggled with all her might, but that only made the slime tighter. It felt like she was bound by cords.

The creature laughed. It sounded totally alien and uncannily human all at once. “We can't wait to see him cradling your broken corpse.”

“Gwen? Gwen?”

The next thing she knew, Gwen's dad was looming over her in the darkness, shaking her shoulders. Gwen sat up in on her mattress, rubbing her eyes. Her nightgown was drenched with sweat.

“The nightmare again?” Her dad gave a patient sigh. He was still in uniform – probably just got back from work, meaning it was late. “Do you need me to call your therapist?”

“No, no, I'm alright, Dad.” Gwen forced herself to take some deep breaths. “I'm fine.”

“If you're sure.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some rest, Gwen. I love you.” With that, her dad left, shutting the door behind him. The bedroom was cast into total darkness.

Gwen rolled over under the covers. She'd been normal these last few days, but clearly, the Hobgoblin's attack had set her off again. What kind of world were they living in where Gwen couldn't go a week without running from her life from giant lizards and electricity-people and creeps with tentacle-arms? Only in Manhattan. She'd have moved in with her relatives in England ages ago if not for her father's career. And Peter. Oh, and Harry.

As her heartbeat grew slower, Gwen's eyelids grew heavier. And she couldn't forget Eddie. He was still her friend. The fact that he'd been right behind her when that monster attacked was pure coincidence. And the fact that Eddie went missing immediately afterward? He was upset about being forced to drop out of college, that was all. And the fact that MJ had warned Gwen that Eddie wanted to hurt Peter? So he was ticked at Peter. Didn't mean anything. And the fact that Eddie was last seen being carted out of Midtown High in a stretcher right after the black monster attacked the school, shrieking “We’re Venom!” at the top of his lungs?

Coincidence. Yeah.

Y’know, Spider-Man really needed to vary his web-swinging routes. If he took the same path to school every morning, it got super predictable and resulted in crowds of loving fans waiting on the streets below to shout their praise as he swooped by overhead.

“Get bent, menace!”

“I love you, too, buddy!” Spidey called back down.

Problem was, being twenty minutes late made it hard to take any route but the fastest one to Midtown. Yeah, punctuality wasn’t one of his superpowers.

“Spider-Man? Spider-Man?”

He was used to that name hitting his ears on his way past First Avenue, but what Spidey wasn’t used to was hearing it from a high, soft, unbearably adorable voice.

“Gw- G-Girlie?” Spidey had to deepen his voice mid-syllable. He perched himself on the wall of a shop a couple feet above his cat-caller, then turned so his legs were closer to the sky and his hands closer to the ground, cocking his head down at her.

Yep, there was no mistaking that telltale, salmon-colored headband – though truth be told, Peter sometimes had trouble recognizing the post-makeover Gwen without it. She was standing there on the sidewalk with her book bag dangling from her hand. When those sea blue eyes gazed up at him, Peter thanked his lucky stars there was a mask to shield them from his radiant cheeks.

“H-Hi, Spider-Man.” Gwen, however, had no such shield. Wow, Peter hadn’t pegged her for the Spidey fangirl type. “Remember me? I intern at the ESU lab. I used to wear glasses, and my hair used to be more, uh, unruly.” She hesitated before adding, “You’ve saved my life more times than I can even remember off the top of my head. Guess I’m something of a damsel in distress...”

“Blonde? Glasses? Damsel in distress?” Spidey brought a palm to his chest, though that required him to shift his weight lest he slip and tumble to the pavement below. “Gee, I wanna say you’re Captain Stacy’s daughter, except I don’t remember her being a damsel in distress at all. She was actually this hero who piloted the escape pod out the Master Planner’s collapsing lair. If anything, I should be thanking her for saving my life.” He descended the wall, closing the distance between them.

Gwen replied with anxious laughter. Was it Spider-Man’s imagination, or was she a little, err, fond of his skintight spandex? Gwen had sure as heck never stolen glances at Peter Parker’s chest like this, but then, Peter had gotten in the habit of hiding said chest beneath a baggy blue t-shirt.

“W-Well, I kinda had my own self-interest at heart there, too...” Gwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Don’t tell Peter he was now competing for Gwen’s heart with his own alter-ego?

“About… Venom.”

Oh. Okay, now Spidey was wishing she had been hitting on him. “Tall, dark, and slimy? What about him?”

“Is he still out there?” Even putting that to words was clearly making the poor girl’s pulse pound. “I mean, he attacked our school, and then he just disappeared.”

Spider-Man sighed in spite of himself. More than anything, he wanted to tell her no, that Venom was gone forever. That she didn’t have to look over her shoulder everywhere she went. “I fed him that gene cleanser we used on Lizard. It destroys all non-human DNA, so that should’ve killed him, but- but he escaped, so I don’t know for sure.”

Gwen inhaled. “I was afraid you’d say that...”

All Spidey could do was shake his head. “But I think if he was in town again, the first thing he’d do would be to let me know. Dude never could resist the urge to gloat.”

“What- What is Venom?” Gwen stammered for a second. “I’ve gotten close enough to know he’s not a guy in a costume.”

A moment passed. “Sorry, that’s, err, classified. Just, uh, if you see any black slime, run the other way.”

But that wasn’t nearly enough to sate Gwen. “Is he Eddie Brock?”

Spider-Man’s wince was more telling than he’d have liked. “Venom uses people as puppets, and... Eddie was one of them.”

Gwen’s eyes had started to quiver. “He did something to Eddie’s head, didn’t he?”

“L-Look, I’m really sorry, Miss Stacy.” Spider-Man found himself creeping backwards up the bricks. “I wish I could help your friend, but I’m honestly just a guy who can stick to walls and punch things real good.”

“But-”

“I gotta go! My- My spider-sense is tingling! Duty calls! Nice talking to you!” Thwip. A second later, Spider-Man was sailing off on a web-line. “Oh, but stay away from Brock!” he called back. “I promise the best thing you can do right now is stay far, far away!”

Even when he was soaring through the sky, Spider-Man felt like a lead weight. Not even a midair backflip improved his mood. Ugh, he hated hiding the truth from Gwen. The last time Eddie had returned, he’d waltzed right up and put his arms around her, and Gwen had been so pleasantly oblivious... It still made Peter’s stomach churn.

Obviously, the moment he’d learned the symbiote had escaped the cement, Peter had wanted to warn Gwen. He and MJ had tried to tell her that Eddie had become a creep, but Gwen had brushed them off. She’d thought Eddie’s grudge was solely against Peter, and she’d have been right… if you didn’t factor in the murderous alien symbiote. Problem was, mild-mannered Peter Parker wasn’t supposed to know the first thing about symbiotes. He could’ve paid Gwen a visit as Spider-Man to warn her Venom was back, except that as far as Gwen knew, Venom had grabbed her at total random last Thanksgiving. There was no reason for her to think Venom would target her again. If Spidey had singled her out like that, it could’ve jeopardized his secret ID, especially at a time when “Peter Parker is Spider-Man” had been the media’s favorite talking point.

Then again, would Gwen learning the truth be the worst thing in the world? Peter really might have come clean to her back then, but then he’d happened to free Eddie from the symbiote’s grasp again, and the ooze had fled into the sewers, and- and it just hadn’t seemed so pressing anymore.

Besides, at the time, Peter had been worried Gwen would tattle to her dad and then a SWAT team would turn up on the Parker family doorstep. But it’d been forever since Gwen’s dad had taken Peter aside for that telltale little lecture about masks, and there’d been no SWAT teams yet. Gwen’s dad understood where Peter was coming from. Like he’d said, Peter wore a mask to keep people safe.

But when it came to hiding his face from Gwen… which person was being kept safe, exactly?

Brrrrng. Finally, the bell. Gwen felt like she’d been trapped at school forever, and that was counting the fact that she’d been late getting here after flagging down Spider-Man. To be honest, she’d been hoping that conversation would reassure her, not… do the opposite.

Even after Professor Warren dismissed class, Gwen lingered behind. She was taking an especially long time to pack her books into her bag.

“Hey, girlfriend.” Which was all the opportunity Mary Jane needed to corner her. “You free to hang this afternoon before we head to the airport?”

Gwen’s physics textbook shook the earth as it plopped into her backpack. “I’ve told you, MJ, I’ve got an internship.” She made for the door, but MJ followed at her heels.

“You okay?” For once, MJ wore a facial expression that didn’t scream “bubbly happy party fun time.” “You’re not ticked at me, are you?”

“No, it’s just...” Gwen bowed her head as they passed the lockers. In a voice only MJ could hear, she said, “Do you have to go to the mall alone with Peter today? Don’t you get how that comes across to-?”

“Girl, we’ve had this conversation. Tiger knows it’s strictly platonic between us.” MJ shrugged. “I’ll just tell him I’ve already got a date for Miami – first guy who walked past me in class today – and then I’m gonna, y’know, do some reconnaissance for you. See how your one-and-only’s holding together while he waits for you to end things with Harry.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought, but...” Gwen’s eyes traveled to the navy blue shawl draped over MJ’s shoulders. God, look at the way it gripped her torso. MJ had been enrolled here for months now, and she still turned heads when she strutted down the hall.

And yes, some of MJ’s magic had rubbed off on Gwen, but with every passing day since Valentine’s, that magic faded. Specifically, Gwen’s hair got messier and messier and her makeup got sloppier and sloppier. She’d actually had to chase MJ down and beg her to refresh Gwen’s appearance the night before Harry’s ceremony, as if begging for MJ to give her a makeover the first time hadn’t been humiliating enough.

“...the thing is, MJ, you’re not good at- at talking to guys without coming off like, um...” Oh gosh, how could Gwen put this?

“...like I’m trying to seduce them?” finished MJ.

Gwen couldn’t help but flinch. “Yeah. That.”

A sigh escaped Mary Jane’s perfectly formed lips. “Sorry, girlfriend. It’s force of habit, I guess.” Frankly, MJ sometimes encountered a similar issue when talking to girls, too.

“I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but, like, even being in Peter’s radius is enough to...” Gwen trailed off. “I mean, after Thanksgiving, y’know, the first time I told Peter how I felt-”

“Didn’t sound like you did much talking, the way you described it to me,” MJ said with a smirk.

“-we ended up avoiding each other, and then a prettier girl made eyes at Peter, and...” Gwen took a breath. “I’m just worried history’s gonna repeat itself.”

“Girl.” In a sudden movement, a hand took her arm. The walk past the lockers was halted a moment. “This is so not a repeat of the ‘Liz Incident.’ First off, Tiger actually said he liked you back this time.”

“He probably said that to Liz, too, at first...”

“Second off, he broke up with Liz to be with you.”

“Not like I’ve returned the favor...”

“Third off, I am not a ‘prettier girl’ than-”

“Oh, don’t even finish that one.” Gwen laughed in spite of herself.

“I mean it, Gwen.” MJ failed to meet her eyes. “You’re gorgeous. The only reason I’ve got a leg up on you’s cuz I spend half the day in front of a mirror while you spend half the day interning at big-name science labs.”

“I guess it is hard to worry about hair and makeup when my schedule’s so packed...” What Gwen neglected to say was that male attention from anyone but Peter terrified her, and so sometimes worrying about hair and makeup was a matter of bravery.

“And fourth off, I’m- I’m not even single anymore.” MJ winced at her own words. “Ohh, saying that out loud felt weird.”

“Wait.” Gwen gave a start. “You’re not still with Mark, are you?”

No response.

“MJ, he almost burned you to death.”

“Not on purpose! I know Mark fell in with a bad crowd, but-”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘I can change him’ girls.” Gwen couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

This time, there was even less of a response.

“MJ...”

“But…” MJ’s eyes were planted firmly on the floor. “...don’t you think, even if someone’s a bad person, it is possible for them to…?”

Okay, this called for The Look. Wait, dang it, The Look wasn’t nearly as powerful without the glasses. Gwen had totally forgot.

“I-I care about Mark,” MJ stammered. “I can’t just flip that off like a switch.”

Gwen sighed. “Well, I care about you. There are times when, y’know-” At this point, neither of them was even trying to meet the other’s eyes. “-if it wasn’t for you, I’d be totally alone… and that means a lot to me.”

“I care about you, too,” MJ said softly. “You know there’s nothing in the world I want more than for my favorite guy to finally hook up with my favorite gal. All that UST’s gonna drive me nuts otherwise.”

“Y-Yep.” Actually, if Gwen wasn’t meeting MJ’s eyes, then how could she know if MJ was meeting hers or not? Gwen couldn’t resist sating her curiosity. As it turned out, MJ had been thinking the exact same thing. “Unresolved… tension...”

The two of them held that pose for about half a minute.

“Well, wouldn’t wanna make you late to your internship just cuz I’m playing matchmaker.” It took a fraction of that time for MJ to complete her journey down the hall. “Later, girlfriend.”

Gwen watched her go until that mess of red hair had vanished around the corner. She found herself shaking her own, blonde mess. She was being paranoid. MJ was right, Gwen had nothing to worry about.

Soul-crushingly, mind-numbingly hard. That was how hard HTML could be. Peter counted himself lucky he’d hadn’t hurled the Parker household’s paperweight of a computer across his bedroom. Put a book in front of Peter, and he was a super genius, but switch it to a screen and his mind regressed to prehistoric Stone Age Flash Thompson level.

At least the city had continued to stay unnaturally peaceful. Sure, the other shoe was no doubt itching to drop, but Peter intended to enjoy this while he could. Really, the most stressful thing to happen lately was when he’d awoken this morning to learn Aunt May had hosted a conference with the other parents, and they’d decided she, MJ’s aunt, and Harry’s mom would be chaperoning the Miami trip. Yeah, nothing added to the experience of seeing Gwem Jay in a bikini like having his aunt hovering over his-

Had Peter just thought “Gwem Jay?” Ugh, idiot. He’d meant Mary Gwaine- Gwen. Gwen Stacy.

Peter would tell himself he was just sleepy, except he’d actually gotten plenty of shuteye. The streets had been so quiet lately, he’d skipped his morning patrol, just for a change of pace for his last day before spring break. The Wed-Head was even running out of stray Pumpkin-Heads to terrorize. It felt real weird. But what felt even weirder was that he was walking in totally alone. Guess the days of walking in alongside his two best buds, Gwen and Harry, were behind him…

But then, just as the bell rang and Peter tasted his first few seconds of precious, precious freedom, he crossed paths with a whole new definition of weird. Just as he was passing the courtyard fountain, he bumped into another student. “Oop, sorry-”

He didn’t need to see that cheerleader uniform to recognize her – Peter could tell it was Liz by the sudden chill in the air and the faint sound of violins in the distance. Her eyes were red, her normally-smooth hair had gone frizzy and matted, and her usual amount of makeup was totally absent. It was like Liz had put up a flashing neon sign announcing her misery to the world. Heck, she was probably looking that way on purpose just to make Peter feel bad. Which was a smart move because it worked like a charm.

The two of them stared at each other a moment, then Peter mumbled something he wasn’t sure was coherent and hurried past her.

Peter hung his head as he walked. Was it his imagination, or had his backpack gotten way heavier all of a sudden? Ugh… The truth was, even before his and Gwen’s fateful breakup scheme, there’d been a fundamental problem with Peter’s relationship with Liz. A problem that could swing from a thread and stick to walls. That was the thing about Spider-Man – If you had the audacity to want something, no matter how small, no matter how inconsequential, Spider-Man had a habit of swooping in and going, “Lolnope, you’ve gotta drop what you’re doing to go save a little old lady from getting hit by a car, and if you don’t you’re a monster!” Sure, Liz had taken it like a trooper when Peter had missed her big play, but all that ditching her to be Spider-Man still hadn’t amounted to history’s greatest romance.

So even if Peter did hook up with Gwen, what was stopping the exact same problems from rearing their ugly heads? Well… No, it was different now. The only “supervillains” left in Manhattan were harmless nutjobs like Grizzly and lame copycats like Hobgoblin, right? So if there weren’t any major baddies left to fight, then the Web-Head could hang up the tights. Well, maybe not for good, but he could at at least drastically reduce his heroing hours without feeling guilty about it. Couldn’t he?

“You okay there, Tiger?” said a voice from behind. “I could feel the chill from the other side of the school.”

“Gah-! M-MJ!” Peter wasn’t sure if he was more disarmed because Mary Jane had snuck up on him or because of the way that navy blue shawl hugged her body. “I’m good. It’s just, y’know, normal everyday stresses.” Such as bomb-hurling maniacs in goblin costumes.

“Well, I know better than anyone that breakups are rough,” said MJ.

“Really?” Peter found himself frowning. “I thought you were a free agent?”

At this, MJ laughed. “Oh, trust me, that ‘free agent’ policy came about through years of honing my craft. I wasn’t always this fun.” She shook her head, smiling. “But speaking of fun, I do believe it’s time for that little talk of ours.”

“Oh yeah. S-Sure, Gw- MJ.” Peter nearly bit his tongue off. If he ever said “Gwem Jay” out loud, he swore he would hate himself forever.

Well, if Gwen had nothing to worry about, then there’d be no harm in her spying on those two as they left school together, would there? After all, there’d be nothing to see…

Once she’d reached the courtyard, Gwen hid herself around the rim of the fountain, peering over through the water for a blurry look at Mary Jane as she approached Peter. MJ said something that made Peter laugh, and then the two of them walked off together, shoulder to shoulder.

Gwen huffed, then, after a moment, glanced at her phone. She had an unseen text from Harry. Her boyfriend.

She didn’t have to torture herself like this. One text. One text, and Gwen could be with Peter the way she’d been fantasizing about since she still wore braces. All she had to do was crush Harry’s fragile little spirit into dust.

Gwen looked back to her two friends as they made their way past the parking lot, giggling together. Mary Jane’s navy blue shawl hadn’t escaped Peter’s notice, either. In fact, the moment MJ’s attention was elsewhere, Peter’s eyes seized the next couple seconds to examine it in detail.

Well, no, actually, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t the shawl he was examining. And it wasn’t MJ’s undershirt, either.

Luckily, the weather had gotten a bit chillier today, meaning Peter could play it off like his constant shivers were from the biting wind. He pulled his jacket tighter over himself, fighting to act casual as he strolled into the Silver Spoon alongside a girl who turned passerby’s heads.

“Try to understand, Tiger.” Mary Jane let out a sigh as the two joined the back of the line. “Gwen’s been my best friend since I transferred to Midtown. I can’t do that to her.”

“W-Well, yeah, but it’s not like we’d be making out or anything, right?” Peter let slip a telltale pause. “Right?”

MJ gave the slightest hint of a smirk. “Right.”

“We’d just be going as friends. Hanging out when the couples are, y’know, coupling.”

“And that’d be great,” said Mary Jane, talking with her hands, “but you gotta look at it from Gwen’s point of view. She took a huge gamble, and you still wound up with Liz. Didn’t do the girl’s self-esteem any favors. And now we’re gonna treat her to the sight of me, like, hanging off your arm all week while you parade around in your swim trunks?”

“Um-”

“I just- I don’t want Gwen to ever see me as a threat.” MJ caught herself. “Ooh, that sounded less vain in my head.”

A laugh escaped Peter’s mouth. “Looked in any mirrors lately? It’s just fact.”

“Smooth.” He’d earned his shoulder a punch. “But c’mon now, liking me’s, like, the free space in Bingo. Everyone gets to tick that box. But we both know, end of the day, Gwen’s the one who really means something to you.” MJ took a breath. “I know you don’t wanna hurt her, either.”

“Yeah.” For a moment, Peter grew solemn. For a moment. “Wonder if Miss Brant likes Miami-?” Then, in response to MJ’s face: “Kidding, kidding.” He simpered at her. “Wow, that was pretty good. It was practically The Look.”

“Don’t even start with her.” MJ simpered back. “I’ve heard the horror stories from Gwen.”

After that, a brief silence fell over the two as they inched forward in line.

“So you’re just not going?” said Peter.

“You kidding?” MJ scoffed. “It’s forty-eight degrees out and eighty-two in Miami. Already asked Tiny to be my plus one.”

It was a good thing Peter hadn’t gotten his coffee yet because he’d have spit it out all over her. “Tiny McKeever? MJ, he makes Flash look like Stephen Hawking!”

Mary Jane merely shrugged. “He’s cute.”

Peter stifled a groan. “Wish I could skip the whole thing, but Aunt May’s going now, and, y’know, after her heart attack, she could really use some fun in the sun-”

He was cut off by the sound of a clearing throat. “Sorry to interrupt,” said a voice from behind. “Couldn’t help overhearing.”

Both heads turned to find a curly-haired kid standing in line behind them.

“Oh, hey, Seymour,” Peter said with slightly less enthusiasm than was entirely polite.

“Just wanted to point out Harry invited me, too, and I’m totally going stag. I mean, who wants a ball and chain when Miami’s full of hotties, right?” As he spoke, Seymour wiped off snot with the back of his hand.

“Uh,” said Peter.

“Peter, Peter, oh my god.” Sudden fingernails in his shoulder made him flinch. “Seymour’s single, too?” MJ flashed a goofy grin. “You totally just found your date.”

“Ha ha.”

An abandoned police station. Not the kind of place Harry would have guessed contained a secret laboratory, but then, that was the point of it being secret, wasn't it? Harry tried his best not to cower too visibly as he ducked a loose wire overhead. It was but one vine in a jungle of twisted steel and plastic – This place looked distinctly slapped together. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that one wrong move would make it collapse.

“Little Osborn,” Smythe said as he hovered to the lab’s center, “I want you to meet your new best friend, Miles Warren.”

A man approached Harry. A tall, thin man wearing thick glasses, a white lab coat, and a pedo mustache. “Am I to presume everything’s going as planned?”

Smythe nodded. “We've waited long enough. Let's augment ourselves some humans. Of course, if it was up to me, we’d be building robots, but c’est la vie.”

“So...” Harry shuffled his feet. “Who are we experimenting on, exactly?”

“That'd be me.” Another man stepped out from the lab’s shadows – a burly, bald guy in a trench coat. “Top of your dad's short list of volunteers.”

“Volunteers?” repeated Harry. “You mean you want to turn yourself into a freak?”

The man grinned at him, then fumbled through his coat pockets for a cigarette and lighter. “Freaks are the future, kid. With more and more showin’ up every day, pretty soon I'll have some stiff competition for the... line of work I do. Gotta stay ahead of the curve.”

“Yes, well, without further ado...” Warren held up a briefcase. “I couldn't help but notice the Rhino-suit specs were burning a hole in Oscorp's pocket. The late Mr. Osborn had been auctioning off fake copies so he could make easy money and identify his competitors, but I figured we could put the Rhino-suit to a more... dramatic use.” He opened up the briefcase so he could leaf through the notes within. “And, as always, I couldn't help but make a few improvements. Octavius was wise to base his design off the animal kingdom, but he made one major flaw – His Rhino-suit was much too bulky. Spider-Man is incredibly agile and thus requires an opponent who can match his speed. I've made the suit considerably lighter and faster, and I've even taken the liberty of adding a prehensile weapon.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” said Smythe. “Let's get Mr. Gargan into costume.”

Chapter Text

Currently, Peter and MJ were strolling out the Silver Spoon with drinks in their hand.

“I’m, err, not feeling the greatest I could be feeling right now,” Peter said, “but we’ve got our coffee, so what next?”

“Well, if you’ve been down in the dumps lately, you found the right gal to hang with.” Mary Jane sipped her cup. “I’ve got something of a gift for lifting guy’s spirits...”

Wow, she wasn’t kidding. One look from her, and Peter’s troubles had already vanished. “Uh… what did you have in mind?”

Wham. Wham. Wham. The table shook with every impact.

“Almost… got it… in,” Peter said through gritted teeth.

Mary Jane made a halfhearted effort to resist, but she was powerless to stop it from entering.

“Oh my god, you’re amazing at this,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow. “This is the best air hockey I’ve ever played in my life.” With that, she retrieved the puck from the slot below and returned it to the table.

A big old grin had wrenched itself onto Peter’s face, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. “How long’s this place been hiding here?” He gestured to the surrounding game room with his eyes. It had everything – Ski-Ball, race car simulators, and even an old arcade cabinet with Real Life Celebrity Superheroes vs. Capcom 2.

“I don’t know.” MJ launched the puck again with her round, plastic paddle thingy. “Mark’s the one who found it. Used to take me here all the time.”

Peter knocked it back. “And now… you’re taking me?”

Ding. Point two for Peter. “Hope you’re not getting any ideas, there, Tiger.”

“No, no, I get it.” Peter held up his hands. “We’re just friends. I mean, it’s not like you’d two-time Mark while he’s in, err...”

As it his imagination, or had MJ’s smile gone tighter? “Speaking of our dating lives, how are things between you and Gwen?” Ding. Point one for Mary Jane.

“Oh, is that why you invited me here?” This time, when the puck came his way, Peter successfully deflected it. “Y’know, I can’t help but question your claim about whether or not you’re the dating police.”

MJ laughed. “Just innocent curiosity, Tiger. I saw how jumpy you two were, like, a week and a half ago. I’ve got a sixth sense about these things.” She narrowly managed to deflect the puck herself and launched it back to Peter. “But I also know Gwen would never dump a dude right after his dad died.”

Crack. Zoom. Pwng. Mary Jane sprang back like a cat, then spun around to gape at the newly-embedded puck in the wall behind her.

“Whoops, w-will ya look at that?” Peter drew back. The blush on his cheeks was the strongest MJ had yet conjured forth. “The magnets must’ve, uh, reacted funny…” He hurriedly shook his sleeve down over his arm. Little too much muscle showing there.

“We should, err, probably get out of here.” Mary Jane gave a wince of apology. “The last thing I need’s to get charged with property damage… again.”

After that, the two crazy kids wasted no time hurrying out the arcade. Luckily, there was a decent turnout to the mall this afternoon, so soon enough they’d blended into the safety of the crowd.

Peter thought the conversation had been killed for good, but on their way up an escalator, Mary Jane suddenly said, “Sorry for bringing all that up.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” said Peter. “You’re Gwen’s best friend. I know you’re just looking out for her.”

“She’s not the only one I’m looking out for.” MJ glanced away. “I know these past few days haven’t been easy for you, Tiger. I mean, there’s this cool person you love hanging out with, and things aren’t serious between you, but the two of you can’t help but, like, make things serious, right? And it should all be so simple, but this weird stuff get in the way because we live in the craziest city on Earth, and then everything’s ruined, and he sets the whole building on fire around you-”

“I’m, uh, not sure that last one applies to me and Gwen.”

“Right, right, sorry.” That seemed to shake MJ back to reality. She looked back to him. Tried and failed to smile.

“Hey, MJ?”

“Yeah?”

“Want me to buy you a slushie?”

This time, she succeeded. “Only if you let me buy you one.” MJ laughed, then turned away.

Man. Peter was already getting a brain freeze. She was even gorgeous from behind. Truth was, he knew he’d just made a big love confession to Gwen and everything, but Peter couldn’t help but wonder, if MJ hadn’t been such a free spirit… how might that have factored into his decision?

It was at this point that the two of them reached the top of the escalator… and spotted the man on the second floor, right outside the jewelry store. Well, there were a lot of men on this floor, but not many were dressed from head to toe in a white, skintight onesie. Now, even that wasn’t such an unusual sight in Manhattan, except that this onesie happened to be covered in black splotches. Black splotches that floated off the dude’s body, creating portals through which he could suck the jewelry into his hands from behind the glass displays. The guy cackled to himself as passerby looked on in horror- No, wait, sorry, it was more like bemusement.

Peter nearly tripped on the escalator behind him. “Something tells me that’s not performance art.”

Okay, he couldn’t help but notice that this dude looked, uh, what was the word…? Lame. Lame to a degree of lameness previously thought unattainable by lameologists. Did Peter even need to bother running off to change into costume? Mall security was already running towards this guy. They could probably handle this.

“No way.” But the next thing he knew, a set of nails were digging into Peter’s arm. “A real supervillain! Don’t you need to, y’know…”

“Know what?” The words escaped Peter’s mouth on sheer impulse. “I don’t know anything-!”

“...take pictures?”

“Oh. Right. Pictures. Yeah, I- I got my camera right here.” Peter patted the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Now you’d, uh, better get to safety.”

“Cool. But call me when you’re done.” MJ gave his arm a punch. “I’m sure you’ll have a story to tell.” She scurried off down the escalator without another word.

Peter watched her go a moment, then turned back to the jewelry store. This supervillain still hadn’t gotten him terribly concerned, but the thing was, Peter was so used to using his photography as an excuse to change into costume that it’d feel way too weird not to do it. Eh, might as well.

The good thing about the nut in the black-and-white spandex suit was that he kept shoppers from noticing the orb-shaped robot scurrying across the mall’s ceiling. This bot wasn’t dissimilar from the ones that’d occupied little Osborn’s bedroom yesterday evening, with the operative difference being its mini-turret had been swapped out for a mini-camera.

And on the other side of this camera, back in the abandoned police station's secret lab, Smythe was slouched in his hoverchair, watching the video screens it projected, his face the picture of total boredom.

“Why’d you send all your robots to Midtown?” asked Harry from his side. He glanced at the surrounding hologram-screens, which showed off a couple other Midtown landmarks.

“Statistics,” said Smythe. “This is the region where Spider-Man's most frequently spotted according to all the social media posts I’ve compiled. If we're lucky, we might even catch him changing into that cute little costume of his. Ever wondered who the guy is? Personally, I think he's one of Norman's experiments gone turncoat.”

Harry made a noncommittal grunt. The only real suspect he could think of was Peter, but then, when the reporters had asked for his dad's opinion on Venom's claim, Harry's dad had shot it down, and who was Harry to say he knew better than his father? Besides, if Pete had had spider-powers, the first thing he'd have done was cash in on them. The Parkers were dirt poor.

“Oh, oh, there's the bugger!” In a blink, Smythe's boredom was replaced with sheer, childlike enthusiasm.

Onscreen, Spider-Man was perched on the wall of a shop, facing down the other weirdo in a skintight suit. “General rule of thumb, Spot,” Spidey was saying, “if it makes a good name for a pet, it makes a lousy name for a supervillain.”

“Laugh all you want, Web-Slinger!” yelled the villain. “Your jokes won't save you from my POWERS OF DISTORTION!”

In the blink of an eye, black globs erupted from the Spot's hands, and, even faster, Spider-Man dodged them, darting to the floor below. The globs followed him, though, and formed into a perfect, inky circle on the ground at Spider-Man's side.

“Though to be fair, I would totally name my hamster ‘Doctor Doom.’”

“PREPARE FOR DEFEAT, SPIDER-MAN!” Another black disc formed on the building next to Spot. His hand darted through it, emerged from the hole by Spider-Man's feet in an attempt to grab his ankle... which Spider-Man also effortlessly dodged.

“Well, that’s not the worst power you could have,” said Spider-Man. “At first I was scared you were gonna squirt milk at me or something.”

“You DARE make a mockery of me?”

“Hey, Spot, uh, random question – Is this portal-shtick your only superpower? Like, you don't have super strength or anything?”

“No,” said the Spot. “Why-?”

Crack. Spidey's fist came out his portal and smacked him in the face. It was enough to knock leave the Spot seeing his namesake, but not enough to send him to the hospital.

“The sad thing is, you still put up a better fight than Hobgoblin.” Spidey retracted his hand right before the portals vanished (That would’ve caused quite the scene otherwise). “Sheesh, aren't there any tougher villains left in this city?”

On the other side of the camera, Smythe grinned, then leaned into a microphone on his collar. “Deploy.”

Full disclosure, Peter had totally meant to head straight home after school to fix his web-shooters, but through some mysterious redheaded means, he’d ended up distracted. Ah well, his shooters at least worked well enough to web up Spot for the police and then-

Spider-sense tingling. Spidey darted onto a wall just in time to dodge something big enough to leave a crater in the tile floor where his beautiful, beautiful face had been a moment ago. What was that? Some kinda flail? Spidey turned to get a look at his attacker. Oh, no, it wasn't a flail, it was a guy in a mechanical scorpion suit. Now he felt stupid.

“Mornin', Spider-Man.” The armor was dark blue with neon green splotches trailing from the joints, and it looked pretty lightweight. Of course, this wouldn't have been too threatening if not for the tail, which was very, very fast and very, very pointy. The guy’s face was the only body part left uncovered, and judging from his snarl, before becoming a supervillain, this guy had been the mookiest mook that ever mooked.

“Whoa, where'd you come from?” asked Spider-Man. “Don't tell me you're in league with the master criminal here?” He pointed a thumb at the Spot.

“Nah, I've just been waiting to ambush you,” said the Scorpion. Spidey was gonna assume his name was “the Scorpion” for the sake of simplicity. “Nothin' personal, there's just a bounty on yer head.”

“A bounty?” Spider-Man gasped. “On my head? But I'm beloved by everyone! Who would do such a thing?”

“Sense o’ humor. I like that.” Suddenly, the Scorpion sprang into the air and landed on the wall beside him.

“Oh, wall-crawling,” said Spidey. “How original.”

Scorpie's tail took a couple jabs at him, but Spidey ducked and socked him in the chest, sending the guy plummeting to the pavement.

“So, mind telling me who sent you?” Spider-Man asked from his spot on the wall.

“And then monologue my entire evil plan? I'll pass.” The next instant, a jet of neon green goop shot from Scorpion’s tail and melted Spidey's face off. Or at least, it would’ve if not for his spider-sense.

Spider-Man dropped back to the ground, then took a wary look at the wall behind him. Everywhere the acid had hit had turned mushy and black. “Okay, no more Taco Bell for you.”

Thwip. Spidey's web-shooters were at least reliable enough to web a nearby garbage disposal. Time to see how tough the Scorpion's armor was.

Crash. The trash can smashed into him at full-force. The can was decimated – The Scorpion remained unmoved.

...Pretty darn tough, apparently.

The next thing he knew, Spider-Man was pinned to the ground, just barely dodging each thrash of Scorpion's tail. “Couldn't you at least buy me dinner first?” The Scorpion was just about to try his luck hitting Spidey with his fist, but then Spidey webbed his face and punched him off. Phew, Scorpion had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. “Whoops, got it in your eyes. Sorry, buddy, I shoulda warned you I'm a premature webulater.”

“Cute.” Scorpion stumbled backwards, ripping the webbing off. “I'm gonna enjoy killin’ you.”

“Yeah, well I'm gonna enjoy restraining you so you can go to jail!” Spidey bowed his head. “Okay, that didn't sound quite as threatening.” But a second later, he had to tumble out of harm’s way, lest that bowed head of his be reduced to a smear on the tip of a giant scorpion stinger.

“Hold still-!”

“Come on, Scorpie, can’t you at least give me a hint about who made you?” Holding still wasn’t Spidey’s strong suit. He tried his best, but he ended up moving extremely quickly. Darn, he was bad at this. “I hope you weren’t born with that tail. For your mom’s sake...”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“Well, I would kinda like to figure out who keeps sending all these supervillains to kill me...”

This only made Scorpion laugh. “What, you think it’s just one dude with a mustache and a cat in his lap making all the super-mercenaries in the world? Reality check, kid – Guys like me are the way of the future. Why settle for regular old mercenaries when any crook with a checkbook can give their thugs superpowers?”

“It’s true!” spoke up Spot from his, err, spot on the floor. “Like, I got my superpowers from Tricorp, and they only started making super-mercenaries to compete with Os-”

“Shut up.” This earned Spot a smack to the face via scorpion tail.

“Hey, let the man speak- Agh!” The next round of Scorpion’s acid missed Spider-Man by a mile, but it nearly hit a random fleeing citizen. Crud, they had to go somewhere less public. “Come on, Scorpie, can't we arachnids just get along?”

“Don’t you get it?” the Scorpion snapped. “This is the way the world works now. With how advanced science got, the super-mercenary business is booming worldwide. Which means you do-gooders can look forward to infinite numbers of do-badders ready to fight you, each more powerful than the last. My armor was specifically designed to take you down. It's faster, lighter, and more versatile. Every weakness of the Rhino's been covered!”

“Now, now, what did we say about monologing?” Spidey did a double-take. “Wait, the Rhino?” He didn't have time to ponder that because he had to dodge another acid-burst.

Suddenly, Spider-Man fired a web towards a far-off region of the mall. “Hey, let's play follow the leader.” He swung off above the escalators.

“No thanks. I prefer pin-the-tail-on-the-spider.” Apparently, the Scorpion's joints were spring-loaded. He bounded into the air and latched onto the ceiling to crawl after Spidey.

Web-shooters, don't fail me now. Luckily, Spider-Man made it to the mall’s front entrance without any hiccups. Once he arrived, Spidey sprung to the ceiling, webbed a panel off the skylight, and smashed it into the Scorpion's face. That oughtta distract him a minute.

“Everyone out!” Spider-Man descended towards the mall’s center, perched upside-down on a web-line so he could flash his Spider-Signal over the shoppers. “Crazy scorpion-person incoming!”

Most of the shoppers were smart enough to run for it. Most. A handful of them, though, made like deer in headlights. They gawked up at Scorpion, paralyzed with horror… which made them sitting ducks when Scorpion’s tail squirted acid out blindly.

“No!” Spider-Man dived, unthinking, before the crowd. Okay, web-shooters, I know I told you not to fail me before, but NOW is actually the time you really don’t need to- Oh thank god, he managed to weave a full-sized web-shield moments before the acid struck. The shield disintegrated instantly, but the small crowd of people behind it sure didn’t.

“Phew!” Spidey made a show of wiping off sweat. “Learned that one from Celebrity Heroes vs. Capcom 2.” He spared the crowd a glance. It almost made his heart stop.

By now, even the most paralyzed of onlookers were running for it, but there was one person who’d stayed behind. A person whose gorgeous green eyes drilled a hole straight through Spidey’s mask. Spider-Man gawked at Mary Jane. For a moment, those green eyes had seemed wide and fearful, but as soon as Spidey’s big white ones met them, MJ returned to factory settings.

“Nice moves,” she said in her foxiest voice yet. “What’s that now, the third time you’ve saved my life?”

“R-Really?” said Spider-Man. “Well, who’s counting? I mean, lots of people nearly get killed by an octopus dude or a flaming gold guy-”

“Oh, you remember me?” Geez, Peter had never seen MJ this delighted. “Guess I left an impression, huh? Or do you remember all the people you save?”

“Just the hot ones.” Look, he was not hitting on her. Peter knew MJ had a boyfriend. It was just that, well, Spider-Man didn’t know that. He was only staying in-character. “I-I mean, the hair kinda makes you stand out… No idea who you are, though. But I guess that’s fair, seeing as you’ve got no idea who I am-”

“I know who you are,” said Mary Jane.

Spider-Man swallowed in spite of himself. “You do?”

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” MJ touched a pointer finger to his chest. “The logo kinda clued me in.”

“Oh, right, right. That’s me.” A moment passed. “You should probably run for your life now.”

In fact, the Scorpion chose that exact moment to drop the floor with a ground-shaking thud.

“Yeah, good idea.” The next moment, MJ had vanished like a hazy dream.

“You can't escape me, Wall-Crawler!” the Scorpion yelled, clawing at his bloodied face. “I'm more than fast enough to keep up with you!”

That's what I'm counting on, genius. Spider-Man raced through the shopping mall with old Scorpie in hot pursuit. He never thought he'd say this, but Peter was glad Liz had dragged him here so many times. He knew right where to find the sauna room.

The woman at the front desk seemed pleasant enough. Well, she screamed at Spider-Man's arrival, but other than that she was perfectly nice.

“Hi, I'd like to rent a steam room for a Mr. Scorpion,” said Spider-Man, leaning an elbow against the desk. “Armor, acid-spitting tail, a little on the antisocial side... You can't miss him. Seriously, though, you should run.”

Once the lady had gotten to safety, Spidey ducked into one of the steam rooms and set the temperature control to max. Instantly, the steam turned so thick, it looked like the world had been replaced by a sheet of printer paper. Good, good. Now all he had to do was wait.

“You think you can hide in the steam, you idiot? All you've done is put yourself in closed quarters!” Sure enough, a big, scorpion-themed doof came lumbering into the mist.

And now for the fun part of the plan: Lots and lots of dodging. Well, Spidey could at least web up Scorpion's tail so it'd be a bit softer.

Click, click, click. Of course. They picked now to jam.

“Ready to die, Spider-Man?”

“Not really, no-” Thwack, thwack, thwack. “Ow, ow, ow!” Okay, dodging a giant scorpion tail in a confined space wasn't as easy as it sounded.

“Whoa, there, Scorpie,” Spider-Man said from his smear on the floor. He clutched a tear in his costume. “I don't know how exactly you control that tail of yours, but it must be pretty exhausting. Your face is a mess.”

“Shut up!” Scorpion wiped his brow, which was growing ever stickier with sweat.

“If it's any consolation-” Next, Spider-Man hopped up to the ceiling. “-the rest of you doesn't look too sweaty at all.”

“I'm gonna... I'm gonna beat you!” Scorpion’s voice was growing a mite groggier. “I'm the perfect improvement over the Rhino! I got... all of the strengths... none of the... weaknesses...”

“Uh, you sure you covered every weakness there, champ?” Spidey poked Scorpie's nose with a finger. The dude promptly toppled over.

With that done, Spider-Man dropped down onto Scorpion’s chest. “Okay, now will you tell me who sent you?” Nothing. Darn, he was out cold. “Well, I guess I'll just assume it was Jameson, then.”

A couple minutes later, the NYPD found Spider-Man emerging from the steam room with a towel around his waist.

“Evening, officers. My fellow arachnid’s having a little R-and-R in the sauna. It really helps with the stresses of being a freakish scorpion person.”

D’aww, look at Mary Jane. Her face had clearly been wrought with worry, but the moment she saw Peter scurrying out of the mall’s front entrance, she snapped back to being chill as ever. The girl had the pride of a house cat.

“Peter! Dude. You’re, like, the most badass photographer of all time.” MJ thumbed through the pics on Peter’s camera, grinning. “Ooh, here’s one of me with Spider-Man. Could you send that one to my phone?”

“Sure.” Man, now Peter kinda wished MJ did know he was Spider-Man. It’d certainly be more fun than his current setup of moping around the house in solitude after every mission. Seriously, imagine Mary Jane’s reaction if he took her aside right now and spun a web in front of her. She would totally…

“Whoo hoo! Crosswalks are for slowpokes!”

...not take it seriously at all. Peter shook his head, then strolled down the sidewalk, waited for the light to change, and finally traversed the crosswalk to meet MJ on the opposite side. “We oughtta change your nickname to ‘M-Jaywalker…’”

Just before he and MJ rode off into the sunset together, Peter glanced back at the swarm of police vans surrounding the front of the mall. Spot was being led away with some kooky sci-fi power-nullifying collar around his neck, while a whole team of officers was hauling the unconscious Scorpion into a van. Peter hated to admit it, but Scorpion was almost certainly right. – There’d always be more bad guys to fight.

And that meant life could never be fun and games. Not for Spider-Man, at least. Ah, well, a guy could daydream.

After that, Peter ran straight home and fixed his web-shooters. Or at least, that's what he'd have loved to do. In reality, though, right after handling two supervillains back-to-back (Well, okay, maybe more like one-and-a-half supervillains back-to-back), Peter got a text and found himself returning to the Daily Bugle.

“What is it, Mr. Robertson?”

Mr. Robertson smiled at him. “Jameson has something he'd like to say to you.”

With a growing sense of dread, Peter entered the lair of old picklepuss himself. But it was different this time. JJJ didn't look like he was one smart remark away from lobbing something heavy at Peter's head, for one thing.

“Parker,” he began. “No, Peter.” Jameson took a breath. “Earlier today, I received news from Ravencroft that my son's condition is not improving. This... might have affected my behavior towards you.” This next part, he said through gritted teeth: “You're not fired after all.”

This was way more surprising than getting attacked by a scorpion-person. Was Jameson acting like an actual human being?

“I'm sorry about John.” Peter gave a sympathetic smile. “That alien that hitched a ride on his shuttle... it hurt a lot of good people.”

Jameson nodded slowly. “Right. Well... NOW THAT YOU'RE NOT FIRED, WHAT ARE YOU STANDING AROUND HERE FOR? I WANT SOME PICTURES OF SPIDER-MAN ON MY DESK IN THE NEXT EIGHT-POINT-NINE SECONDS OR YOU'RE FIRED!”

Harry sat in the abandoned police station, staring at the wall. His mom hadn't even texted him. Wasn't even wondering where he was.

“Well, little Osborn.” Harry caught the hum of a hoverchair coming to rest by his ear. “Looks like Mac's being sent to the Vault. How'd you like your first supervillain creation?”

“This- This is crazy.” The words escaped Harry’s mouth on their own. “Spider-Man’s one thing, but there were innocent people at that mall. You're a monster, and my dad was a monster, and I want no part of this.”

“Mmm... No can do. Norman's orders were clear. You're getting involved in this whole affair, or else I'll, I don't know, send robots to kill your mum or something.”

Harry tensed. “My dad would never have wanted her hurt.”

“No offense, kid, but I’m not sure you knew your dad quite as well as you think you did. He was a great man. A man with a goal I believe in.” Smythe paused, then added, “Still a monster, though. No one's denying that.”

Harry bowed his head. “Maybe it'd be better to wash my hands of this. Let you kill me. That's the braver way out, isn't it?”

Smythe looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose that's always on option... Oh, on a completely unrelated note, the police raided Menken's apartment. They found quite the payload of stolen Oscorp property, which Oscorp has of course reclaimed. Menken had cooked up a massive amount of Globulin Green. Strange he didn’t actually use any of it before throwing on that goblin suit and trying to kill you, but, hey, more for Oscorp to take back, right?” Smythe knelt down to pat Harry's shoulder. “But I'm sure that's of no interest to you.”

Harry caught the hum of a hoverchair moving away, leaving him alone to stare at the wall.

Chapter Text

Gwen stared into the flames of the Bunsen burner. She could hardly lift the beaker without her hands trembling.

“You seem troubled, Miss Stacy.”

Gwen spun around to find Dr. Warren standing there, arms folded behind his back.

“Where's your fellow intern?” asked Warren. “Mr. Parker?”

Probably out drooling over his latest crush. “Probably taking pictures for the Bugle.”

“Ah. Not too reliable, is he?” Warren shook his head. “I'm starting to see why Connors fired him.”

“He's a good guy.” Gwen let out a weary sigh. “He can just be an idiot sometimes.”

Warren frowned. “Are you alright? If there's anything I can do for you...”

“Nothing you need to worry about, sir,” said Gwen. “Just high school drama.

Warren gave a warm smile. “I like high school drama.”

Gwen laughed, but her heart wasn't in it. “You know that feeling when you love someone, but they can't be with you, not because of anything to do with how they feel, but just because the... the circumstances get in the way?”

Warren nodded. “I know it all too well.”

“And I'm not talking about some silly crush. I mean... someone that makes you feel a little less worthless every time you're around them.”

Warren pulled up a chair next to her. “I'm guessing you're the introverted type? You don't make many friends, but the ones you do make are close friends?”

Gwen found herself smiling the tiniest amount. “You hit the nail on the head.”

“That's our burden as people of science.” Slowly, gingerly, Warren placed a hand on her back. “Our interests will always fall into a niche... One most people won't accept, won't understand. But you can't let that stop you from pursuing what you love.”

“Yeah...” Gwen shut her eyes. “Thanks for the kind words.” Well, how about that? Mrs. Connors hadn't seemed to like Dr. Warren too much, but it turned out he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

Dr. Warren wet his lips. “It's my pleasure, little lady.”

It was at that moment that the door burst open and one Peter Parker made his dramatic entrance into the lab.

“S-Sorry I’m late!” He hurried towards the other two, finger-coming his hair. “I was held up!”

Oh, Gwen bet.

“Don’t let it happen again, Mr. Parker. Now if you’ll excuse me...” Before Peter could get near, Warren vanished into his office, leaving the two kids alone. Perfect.

“So, uh… what’s our assignment today?” Peter sat down across from Gwen, taking out another Bunsen burner from the box in the center of the table. “Or, uh, are we still doing that thing where we give each other the silent treatment?”

Deep breath, Gwen. There were honestly more important things to worry about right now. “Peter…” Her eyes shut. “I spoke to Spider-Man before school today.”

“Really? Cool.” Gwen wasn’t sure if Peter was reacting too much or too little. “I didn’t think the guy was much for conversation, but then, maybe that’s just cuz I’m not a cute girl.”

Gwen nearly lit her hair on fire. Wait, huh? Why was she so happy all of a sudden? Hadn’t she just been furious at him a second ago?

“He… He confirmed something I’ve suspected for a while now.” But the subject at hand dampened Gwen’s enthusiasm pretty quickly. “You know how Eddie was screaming, ‘We’re Venom’ as he was carted off to Ravencroft?”

“Y-Yeah. Dude had a total break from reality. Venom’s, like, twice his-”

“I think Venom was controlling him,” said Gwen. “That monster… whatever it is… did something to Eddie’s head. He was right behind me before Venom grabbed me, and then when Venom showed up, Eddie was gone. And Peter, when I saw Venom up close, he looked slimy and black.” She hesitated, fighting down some lingering nightmares from the morning. “Just like the alien stolen from the Connors’ lab.”

“What are you saying?” Peter, meanwhile, looked to be fighting down his fight or flight reflex. “That Eddie got mind-jacked like something out of Invasion of the Body-Snatchers?”

Gwen shook her head. “I know it sounds nuts, but Spider-Man had a black outfit just like Venom’s right before Venom first showed up… and my dad says that when the black-suit Spider-Man fought the Sinister Six, he started doing crazy stuff like growing tentacles out his body.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s some kind of military bio-weapon and the alien story’s a cover-up or something?”

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to crop up in Manhattan...”

“The point is, this is why Venom’s been going after you.” Without meaning to, Gwen squeezed Peter’s arm. “Why he told the press you’re Spider-Man. Why he tried to kill me – Eddie knows I’m your best friend.” Yep. Best friend. That was why. No other reason possibly sprang to mind. “Right before Venom showed up, Eddie was, like, beyond ticked at you, and he was beyond ticked at Spider-Man for stealing the alien, and when the alien made him go crazy, Eddie must’ve, y’know, conflated those things.”

“Just my luck.” Peter glanced away, looking sour. “Seymour still calls me Spider-Man half the time...”

“And Spider-Man told me Venom could still be out there!” Gwen’s grip on Peter’s arm went even tighter. “Peter, we’re in danger. This thing could- could pop up and kill us at any moment.” Her head sank. “God, our life’s become a horror movie...”

Honestly, Peter had been squirming in Gwen’s grasp, but now, his expression softened. “Gwen… I promise you, everything’s gonna be okay.” Oh lord in heaven now his arms were around her. “I-I know Manhattan’s been overrun with supervillains lately, and it sucks, but the cops and Spider-Man can handle it. If Venom shows up again, Spidey’ll be there to knock him back down. I really believe that.”

Gwen managed a nod. “Ravencroft called me earlier. They’re allowing visitation for Eddie now. He’s, uh, slipping in and out of lucidness.”

“Oh. That’s- That’s great.”

Gwen found herself nestling her head in the crevice between his shoulder and neck. “I know he hates your guts, but I’d feel a lot better if you went there with me after we’re done here. He deserves some company before we run off to Miami for a week.”

At this, Peter took a breath. “Well, it’ll definitely be an… interesting visit.”

“I have to warn you, your friend was moved to the intensive care wing. It’s… a bit disturbing in there.”

Dr. Kafka was a lot prettier and a lot less male than Gwen had been expecting. The name had made Gwen think of a stereotypical German mad scientist, but Kafka was actually a friendly-looking Asian woman. She led Gwen and Peter through the halls of Ravencroft, glancing down at her clipboard as she spoke.

“His condition hasn't significantly improved since he arrived. My leading theory is that an outside agent chemically altered his brain activity.” Kafka gave the kids a piteous look. “I just want you to manage your expectations. This isn't the friend you knew.”

Gwen tried her best to look like she wasn't coming apart at the seams. “I've been close to him for years. I need to see him.”

As the three of them passed the lounge area, a voice from a nearby sofa called out, “Miss Stacy? I-I'm glad to see you're doing well.”

Gwen drew closer to Peter. “I'm sure you're so concerned for my well-being.”

The short, chubby man simply smirked at her. The light reflecting off his square glasses made his eyes look pure white.

“Don't be afraid,” Dr. Kafka whispered to Gwen. “He's never shown any violent behavior. At least not with his current set of limbs...”

“I do apologize, Miss Stacy, for any harm that befell you due to my unfortunate b-b-breakdown.” The man took a sip from his coffee mug, which had the words “EVIL GENIUS” proudly emblazoned across it.

After that, Dr. Kafka led Gwen and Peter down into the intensive care wing. Unlike the floor above, this wing was less of a cozy lounge area and more of a stark, barren hallway filled with reinforced doors. On the far side of the hall, a man was being led away, screaming, “You don't understand! I'm not a human! I'm a grizzly bear!”

Gwen forced herself to keep her eyes on Dr. Kafka and not on the patients' living quarters, which looked distressingly similar to prison cells. Christ, and she’d thought her granny’s nursing home had been bad.

But Gwen couldn’t help herself when she spotted the patient in the green containment suit. “M-?”

“Don't use the M-word,” Kafka said in a harsh whisper. “He will get upset. Call him 'Electro.'”

“E-Electro,” Gwen hurriedly corrected herself as she and Peter gathered outside his door.

“I remember you.” Through the slit in the door, Gwen could see that Max had risen off his cot. “The lab interns.”

“H-Hi, Electro,” Gwen said in the steadiest voice she could muster. “I’m sure the Connors are still hard at work on that cure-”

But this, too, had been the wrong thing to say, evidently, at least judging by the reaction it got: “The Connors left me in here to rot.” Suddenly, Electro was slamming himself against the door, screaming for all he was worth. “Well, I don't care anymore. I don't want a cure. I like having power. I'm Electro now! ELECTRO.”

It was at this point that Dr. Kafka hurried Gwen away from the cell.

“I'm sorry about that,” she said, “but please bear in mind his condition is causing him constant pain. He's handled it remarkably well, all things considered.”

“If you say so...” Gwen did feel sorry for Max, but there was only so much sympathy she could have for someone who'd helped hold her hostage as part of a plan to hijack government computers.

“Dr. Connors actually stopped by from Florida just yesterday,” Kafka said with a sigh. “He’s made some real progress on a cure for Max. We believe we have a way to heal him now… except that the procedure could be dangerous, and Max refuses to consent to it. Connors left all the machinery here, but there’s not much else we can do for now.”

On that note, the three of them stopped outside another door. Here they were.

“I'm glad you've come to visit him.” Kafka gave Gwen a strained smile. “The poor man has no living relatives. Seeing a familiar face should help his recovery.”

“Thanks,” Gwen said dully.

“Will you be okay if I wait out here, Gwen?” Peter gave a look of apology. “Sorry, I don’t want to ditch you, but I’m sure I’m the last person Eddie wants to see right now.”

Gwen gave a slow nod.

“Oh, and Gwen? Uh… Eddie’s still not quite in touch with- with reality, y’know?” Peter cleared this throat. “So if he says anything about me...”

“I know.” With that, Gwen took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” She pushed the door open, leaving Peter and Dr. Kafka behind in the hall.

Gwen had known coming in that this was going to be hard to watch. Seeing someone in a straightjacket was never easy, especially if you knew them back when they were a sane, well-adjusted person. What Gwen hadn't been ready for was that... that look in his eyes. Like he'd murder her given half a chance.

Spider-Man had asked her to stay away from here. Gwen sure as heck hadn’t forgotten that. The thing was, the dread – the creeping sense of unknown horror – had nearly eaten Gwen alive. She had to silence it. Had to silence her nightmares.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth was, “Do you have it? Give it back! I need it.”

Or this visit could make her nightmares ten times worse. One or the other.

Gwen had wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but it was quickly becoming apparent that wasn't gonna happen. “H-Hi, Eddie.”

“I need it. It loves me! It loves me!”

Gwen pulled up a chair and seated herself at his bedside. “What do you need, Eddie?”

“The alien. Do you have it? Is it in your clothes?”

Great. Whatever that slime was, it’d basically turned him into Gollum. “No, Eddie, I don't.” Thank god. The thought of that stuff touching her made Gwen break out into a cold sweat.

“Please, please, you have to give it to me.” This seemed to drive Eddie into a frenzy. He thrashed even harder against his restraints.

“Eddie...” Gwen brought a hand to his cheek. “You almost lost your job because of that alien, didn't you?”

Eddie's face contorted into a snarl. “Because of Spider-Man.”

“I know... The Daily Bugle said he stole it.” But then, the Daily Bugle said a lot of things about Spider-Man. Gwen was willing to bet he'd been trying to stop that cat burglar, not working with her. “That's why you had to drop out of college, isn’t it?”

“Give it to me! It doesn't love you, it loves me.”

“Eddie, are... are you that black monster?” asked Gwen. “Are you Venom?”

Eddie's face lit up. “Yes! We're Venom. And we're going to ruin Spider-Man's life! He'll pay for rejecting us!”

Gwen sprang from her chair. “You tried to kill me!”

“Yes.” Eddie giggled to himself. “We know who he loves the most...”

Deep breaths, deep breaths. The alien wasn't here right now. Clearly, it was the monster, not Eddie.

“Loves the most?” said Gwen. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Heh heh heh…” At this, Eddie grinned. “Peter Parker is Spider-Man.” Right. Peter had been afraid he’d still be raving about that.

Gwen knelt down, touching Eddie’s arm through the jacket. “How do you know that, exactly?”

“It told me,” said Eddie. “The alien told me.”

“Eddie, c-c’mon, try and think rationally here. Science is, like, your whole life. You know better than to jump to conclusions without any real evi-”

“It showed me his memories.” Eddie was back to struggling against his restraints. “The- The field trip. The spiders.” Field trip? Spiders? Was he just saying random-?

The pieces made an almost audible click in Gwen’s head. The ESU lab. She had to clean the glass on those darn spider exhibits, like, every other day. The spiders that had Dr. Connors’ serums incubating inside them. The early drafts of what would eventually help him regrow his arm… by transferring the properties of animals into humans.

For a frenzied second, Gwen had the urge to call up Mrs. Connors and be all like, “I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A SPIDER MISSING! IN YOUR FACE!”

“So how was Eddie?” Peter asked as he and Gwen made their way out Ravencroft’s front entrance. “Still not making any sense?”

“Yep,” said Gwen. “No sense at all...”

“C’mon, I think the subway station’s just over-” As they reached the sidewalk, Peter paused, then turned back to frown at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just doing some intense thinking.”

The two of them continued their march to the subway.

“How were you so good at football all of a sudden?” Gwen blurted out.

She might as well have just smashed a defibrillator on Peter’s chest. “What? I hit the gym over the summer. I-I was sick of being a scrawny nerd. That’s why I swapped my glasses for contacts. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have the same idea.” He nodded to her own, glasses-less face. “Why are you-? Is Eddie still saying I’m the Web-Head? Gwen, you know he’s having delusions-”

“Sorry, sorry.” The next second, Gwen was burying her forehead in her hand. “I know you’re not. If you’d gotten spider-powers, I’d be the first person you’d tell.”

Silence. Cold, dead, silence.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “You would be.”

After that, the subject was dropped, and neither of them had the courage to pick it back up again.

Mary Jane wished she’d worn a thicker jacket. No, not because of the weather – because of the look on Liz’s face when she’d opened the door to discover Mary Jane on her apartment’s welcome mat. The truth was, while Liz was kind of sort of exactly correct in her guess that MJ had plotted to hook Peter up with Gwen, Peter’s and Liz’s breakup actually had nothing to do with MJ at all.

MJ didn’t particularly feel like debating the point, though. She was only here to grab some of her stuff. Really, there were some things MJ would’ve rather left in Mark’s possession, but at this point, it wasn’t looking like Mark would be returning home anytime soon.

And that’s how Mary Jane ended up trying to navigate the apartment complex’s stairs with a big, heavy cardboard box in her dainty little arms.

She was getting dangerously close to spilling personal possessions all over the stairway when a velvety voice said, “I certainly hope you don’t take this the wrong way, ma’am, but you have exceptionally beautiful features.”

One more remark like that, and this box was crushing MJ’s foot to death. “Uh… thanks?” She managed to lower it enough to get a look at her flatterer here. He was a middle-aged, broad-shouldered, gray-haired guy in a white business suit. MJ must’ve blocked his path up.

“Did I see you leaving Mr. Allan’s apartment?” the guy asked. “Friend of his daughter?”

“…Sure.”

“I was about to discuss a business venture regarding one of his hotels, but I suppose I couldn’t help but notice you.” For a second, MJ’s creep detector started to buzz, but then the guy surprised her by saying, “Have you ever considered modeling? I actually have a not inconsiderable amount of sway in the fashion industry.” As he spoke, the man fished a business card from that pearly suit of his. “If you’re interested, all you need to do is submit a portfolio. Tell them Roderick sent you.”

“O-Okay. Cool.” With a bit of straining, MJ managed to hold the box with her wrist so she could grab the card.

Long after the guy had politely pushed past her, Mary Jane stayed frozen in place. She blinked. Had… Had she just been discovered? Like, Marilyn Monroe style?

Thump. “Ow, my foot!”

Wow, Manhattan hadn’t looked this tiny even from the top of the Empire State Building. Peter had to admit, if he was gonna ride in a plane for the first time in his life, this was how to do it (He, err, might have had a childhood fear of flying).

This thing made first class look like, uh, twenty-eighth class or something. It was like someone had chopped out the Osborn family’s penthouse living room and plopped it in the middle of an airplane. The jet even had multiple rooms to it, meaning Peter didn’t have to spend the next few hours locked in with Flash and Kong. Hallelujah.

Of course, the bigger upside of riding private was that your luggage didn’t get nearly the same level of scrutiny, meaning Peter had managed to smuggle in his costume and web-shooters without having to make up some wacky excuse. On the other hand, with how much Gwen was scrutinizing him now, Peter had a feeling that Spider-Man turning up in Florida to stop muggers might be a little too hard for her to swallow. Still, couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

Man… Peter’s eyes went to the cute blonde napping a few seats back. She’d almost got him with that spontaneous game of twenty questions. Peter usually did such a good job keeping a lid on the whole secret ID thing, but was it really his fault that he hadn’t anticipated an alien symbiote spilling the beans? Either way, though, now he wasn’t just lying to Gwen by omission – He was lying through his teeth right to her face.

Peter leaned back on his headrest, shutting his eyes. Maybe she deserved to know. Heck, her dad already knew, and that wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe Peter ought to bite the bullet and come clean to her. What’s the worst that could happen?

Peter found his eyes reopening. His gaze went first to Aunt May chatting with Anna Watson a couple seats up, then to Harry’s mom reading a novel in the corner, quiet as ever, and then finally back to the ever-shrinking view of Manhattan out the window.

Would the city even last a week without its local spandex-clad hero? Peter had thought things had finally calmed down right until Scorpion showed up. Maybe Norman hadn’t been the one behind all the supervillains after all? Or maybe he had been, but now one of his fanboys was following in his footsteps? Either way, Scorpion had only wanted to kill Spider-Man, so if Spidey just, y’know, made himself scarce for a while, the city would be totally safe, right? Right?

Well… unless the baddies started attacking innocent people to try and draw Spider-Man out. And, come to think of it, it might be a teeny bit suspicious to Gwen if Spider-Man vanished during the week Peter just so happened to be on vacation and then reappeared as soon as Peter got back home. Even once the trip was over, Peter probably needed to hang up his webs for a while just to keep things from getting too obvious.

“Pete! Help!”

“Whuh?” Peter was torn from his fretting by a somewhat raspy, somewhat seductive, extremely panicked voice. “MJ? What’s wrong?”

The girl made sure to lock the door behind her before plopping down in the adjacent seat. “Tiny McKeever.” She leaned in to whisper, “It’s like talking to a tree stump.”

Peter didn’t even try to hide his “told-you-so” smirk. “Tried to warn you.”

A hand touched his arm. “Just say we’ll spend the week as a threesome, okay, Tiger?”

“Sure!”

The grip tightened. “Not that kind of threesome.”

The two shared a laugh, but even after it died down, the hand remained on his arm. “Uh… MJ?”

“Peeeeter,” Mary Jane said in a voice that dried his throat. “You wouldn’t happen to have packed that fancy camera of yours, would you?”

“Y-Yeah.” He’d just got a shiny new replacement after the Enforcers blew up the old one, in fact.

Was it Peter’s imagination, or were MJ’s eyelashes fluttering? “And you are a professional photographer, right?”

“Well, I do get paid to take pictures, so technically yes.”

“But you know about lighting and composition and all that jazz?”

Peter gave a slow nod. “But I’ve really only ever done pics of the Web-Head.”

“Wellllll…” MJ gave a dramatic pause. “…how’d you like to photograph a different subject in a skintight outfit?”

Oh. So all that blood rushing to Peter’s cheeks hadn’t been for nothing. “Um-”

“I’ll tell it you straight, Tiger – I’m trying to break into modeling.” Slowly, Mary Jane met his eyes. “If you’d sacrifice some vacation time to help me build a portfolio, I’d really, really appreciate it.”

Peter had to force himself to blink. “Of course. That sounds gr- I mean, I’d love to.”

“Aww, Tiger.” Geez, she needed to warn Peter before hugging him like that. Nearly gave the poor boy a heart attack. “You’re perfect. I mean that.”

“What’s this about taking pictures?” spoke a third voice.

“Oh, Gwen-!” In unison, Peter and MJ spun around to find Gwen sitting up in her seat, rubbing her eyes. Peter guessed that exchange had set off her alarm bells.

“I- I wanna start modeling, and I thought Pete could help me out cuz, y’know, photographer.” It took MJ a moment to realize she probably ought to remove her hand from Peter’s arm. “I mean, I’m not trying to- This is strictly career stuff. You don’t mind, do you, girlfriend?” She shot her friend a worried look.

Gwen opened her mouth-

“Mind?” -only for Harry to perform his teleporting trick again. “What would my girlfriend mind?” Turns out he’d slipped in from the back entrance while they were talking.

“Nothing, nothing!” the other three said hurriedly.

After that, Harry stayed by Gwen’s side the rest of the flight, just daring them to raise the subject again. Like a camper in an MMO.

Peter’s neck returned to his headrest. This was shaping up to be a fun vacation already.

Chapter Text

No matter how he tried, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that this beach was fixing to come alive and attack him any moment. Ugh. Being a superhero had done things to him…

On the other hand, though, Miami Beach was undoubtedly a step up from Rockaway. It was like someone had cranked up the color saturation on life – Peter had never seen so much sky blue and golden brown. In one direction was a gorgeous view of the waves, and in all other directions was warm sand. The place must’ve had hundreds of beachgoers, and there was still elbow room to spare.

Peter’s eyes soaked in his new surroundings. Huge as this place was, the Midtown High group hadn’t yet fully dispersed. Peter’s and MJ’s aunts were chatting together on a beach towel, Harry’s mom was still absorbed in her novel beneath the shade of an umbrella, and the teens were making their gradual way to the water together, save for Kong, who was trying his hardest to ogle bikini-wearing passerby without Glory noticing, Tiny, who was wandering around asking if anyone had seen where Mary Jane had gone, and Flash, who seemed perfectly happy to sit out on the sand with Sha Shan.

Well, everyone seemed preoccupied doing their own thing, so Peter guessed there wasn’t any harm in exiting the safety of the umbrella’s shadow. He took his first step into the sunlight.

“Yo, Parker!” Instantly, Rand’s voice rang out across the dunes. “No homo, but… damn.”

Naturally, the eyes of every last Midtown kid (and a handful of other beachgoers) were now firmly planted on Peter. Specifically, on his abdominal region.

Great. Now Peter was fighting the urge to shield his perfectly-chiseled chest with his arms. Though maybe looking like a shrinking violet would be preferable to jeopardizing his ID like this. Ugh, why had he opted to go shirtless again?

“Whoa…” From off to the side, whispers hit Peter’s ears. A not inconsiderable number of bikini-wearers had started pointing and whispering and shooting furtive glances his way.

Oh yeah. That was why.

Even Liz and Sally were joining in on the glances, though with a healthy dose of reluctance and self-loathing involved. Meanwhile, in the water, Glory looked to Peter’s chest, then back to Kong (whose swim trunks were hidden behind his gut). Then back to Peter, then back to Kong.

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter gathered his resolve and made his way towards the ocean. Halfway there, though, he crossed the path of a couple girls his age, all of them hard at work on an impressively large sandcastle. “Hey, there.” One of their soft, tittering voices halted his path.

“H-Hey.” Peter gave the faintest of waves.

“Wanna help with our castle?” asked another girl.

“Yeah, guess- guess I could.” Peter took a tentative step towards them.

Crrsh. But then the sound of scattering sand sent all heads turning. The castle’s entire west quadrant was now a shapeless pile of mush.

And Gwen Stacy happened to be standing before it. The other girls stared at her.

Gwen stared back. “The tide came in.”

“Uh… s’cuse me.” Peter thought it best to ditch the other girls in favor of hurrying off with Gwen.

As soon as they’d found their own private little patch of beach, Gwen said, “When you said you hit the gym over the summer, you meant it.”

“Yeah, I, uh, guess I’m turning into a meathead.” Peter’s smile came out more wavering than he’d meant. “You just gotta get a steady workout routine-”

Gwen was having none of it. “Peter, you promise me this isn’t a spider-powers thing?” Even without her glasses, The Look was a force to be reckoned with. “Because there are genetically-altered spiders in ESU’s lab, and I just-” She faltered. “I don’t want this to turn into another Lizard incident.”

No matter how carefully Peter had to tread here, his face couldn’t help but soften. “Gwen… I promise.”

“And you’re not taking Globulin Green?”

At this, he almost laughed. “What? No! I don’t even know where Harry got that stuff. Look, it’s really not that hard to get in shape, Gwen. The only crazy sci-fi serum I took was that chicken and protein powder mix I made in Aunt May’s blender.”

“Okay. Well, it…” Suddenly, Gwen drew back. Her face was getting red, and somehow, Peter didn’t think it was sunburn. “It paid off, for the record. I mean… wow.” But just as suddenly, Gwen faltered. “Wish I had that kinda commitment.” She pinched her tummy to demonstrate, squeezing fat between her fingers.

Oh no. Gwen looked so cute right now, Peter had forgot how precariously her self-esteem was stacked. Adorable as her getup was (and as rare as it was to see her forsake her trademark headband), Gwen’s swimsuit did have a lot of frills and laces to droop over her body, hiding it from judgmental eyes.

“Gwen,” Peter said softly, “you look gr-”

“You look great, babe.” Naturally, Harry chose that exact moment to teleported between them. He even took it upon himself to finish Peter’s sentence for him. Dude was thoughtful that way. “Now c’mon, let’s hit the water.”

“S-Sure.” Gwen shot one last longing glance Peter’s way before allowing her boyfriend to drag her off by the arm. Harry was pretty ripped, himself, and something told Peter that hadn’t come from chicken and protein powder, either. Well, Peter supposed, even now that Harry was off the Green, it’d given him a little keepsake.

Alone again, Peter let loose a sigh. He guessed he could always head back to help that giggling gaggle of girls repair their sandcastle, but he doubted his heart would be in it anymore.

On his trudge down the sand, Peter happened to cross paths with Flash and a couple Midtown High girls.

“Oh yeah?” Flash was saying. “Well, if you think Puny Parker’s jacked, wait till you get a load o’ DESE PUPPIES!” He struck a dramatic pose in his trunks, flexing his arms.

A moment passed.

“Meh,” said Mary Jane.

The dramatic pose promptly deflated itself.

“Aww, don’t worry, Flash,” Sha Shan said with only a hint of a smirk. “I think you’re jacked.”

The head of every last guy (and a couple gals) on the beach was turning. On the highway in the distance, one car rear ended another. And in the ocean, knee-deep in the waves, Mary Jane Watson just so happened to be in perfect view of that highway as she posed for the camera.

This shot was a tricky one to get – It was hard to press the button when Peter’s finger was trembling so much. Currently, MJ’s personal photography boy was merely ankle-deep in the drink, and that fancy camera of his was safely tucked into a waterproof case hanging off his neck. Though Peter wasn’t worried about the water ruining his camera so much as the sheer heat from his photo subject.

“How’d that one turn out?” Dear lord, Mary Jane was sloshing right towards him.

And what’s more, Peter was allowed to exam her photos in detail without it making him a creeper? “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble landing that modeling gig…” He stole another glance at MJ’s bikini. In the photo. The bikini in the photo. Because MJ had asked him to. “But you don’t think you’re a little young for them?”

“At seventeen?” said Mary Jane. “That’s a little old for them, actually.”

“Still, I, err, wonder if we should tell all these beachgoers you’re underage?”

That only made MJ’s grin wider. “Oh, you’re one to talk, walking around without a shirt like that. You trying to get some poor lady arrested?”

“Ha ha… ha…”

She’d gotten close enough to touch him. “Seriously, is there an ounce of fat on your body? Guess those weren’t fake muscles on your Halloween costume.”

“Well, so long as we’re both ogling each other…” Peter cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve, uh, got a ton of pictures of you on my camera now. I should probably be a gentlemen about that and give you the SD card-”

MJ held out a palm. “Nah, just email me copies. You can keep the originals if you want.”

“Really? But-”

“If all goes well, my face is gonna be plastered in magazines for all the world to see, anyways. I’m not exactly shy here. Keep ’em.” With half-lidded eyes, MJ added, “Not a terrible reward for helping me out, is it, Tiger?”

Peter’s face must’ve been the weirdest mixture of pale white and bright red right about now. “Um, well-”

“Or delete ’em if you want. I’m not your mom.”

Before Peter could reply, his eyes caught something off in the distance. Something blonde and scowling. Seemed Gwen was still out in the depths with Harry, but the photography session had… caught her eye.

Peter gave his most apologetic look, but Gwen merely glanced away.

“Oh, crap, Gwen, I totally forgot.” And apparently, Peter wasn’t the only one to spot the blonde. “Sorry, sorry, not trying to drive a wedge between you two. C’mon, you guys know I’m your number one shipper.” Mary Jane paused, then gave Peter a look. “What?”

“Nothing.” Despite himself, Peter smirked. “Just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before. Makes you look like Gossamer.”

“Eh, I just got carried away.” MJ batted a hand at him. “I’m a serial flirt. Filthy habit, I know.”

Peter’s smirk hadn’t gotten any smaller. “That’s gonna get you in trouble someday.”

“Ohhh, I think it already has…” With a wince, MJ pointed behind him.

Peter followed her finger… to discover Harry out in the deep water, making out with his girlfriend beneath the sunset.

Midway through the display, Gwen opened her eyes so she could give Peter her most apologetic look.

Peter wrenched his eyes away. “MJ…” Deep breath. Even the icy water on his toes was doing little to cool him down. “…I really think I’m in love with Gwen. I think I have been for a while now. I was just too stupid to realize it.”

“I enthusiastically second that notion,” said Mary Jane, admiring her nails.

“Mary Jane, if…” Deeper breath. “…you really love someone like that, is it okay to- to keep big secrets from them? I mean, if you’re scared it could be, I don’t know, too much for them to take?”

For a moment, the only response Peter received was a gut-wrenching silence. He risked a glance MJ’s way – The goofy smirk on her face had all but vanished. Even if she had no clue what he was getting at, Peter guessed his question’s gravity had still brought her down.

But finally, Mary Jane said, her voice barely louder than the waves, “Well, I guess you can’t expect someone to love you if they don’t really know you.”

After that, Mary Jane sloshed her way towards the beach, keeping her back to Peter. A moment later, Peter followed suit.

From the beach towel where their aunts were conferring, Peter caught Mrs. Watson murmuring, “…just how she deals with things, I suppose.”

Then Peter’s attention returned to Mary Jane a couple feet away. She’d already found another cute boy to chat it up with.

Liz gave the ketchup packet a halfhearted squeeze, spreading red goop onto a pile of lukewarm potato mush. A rush of air fled her mouth. “Petey used to love putting ketchup on his food…”

“Oh my gawd, Liz, you just broke up with him. He’s not dead!” At the other end of their table, Sally’s eyes lolled in her skull. “Look, I know you’re baskin’ in shame at the horrible lapse in judgement dat led you to ever even give a nerd like Parker the time o’ day, and dat’s totally understandable. I mean, if I was you, I’d be drownin’ in shame and misary the rest o’ my life, neva able to shake off dat horrible feelin’ o’ regret naggin’ away at me, but...” Sally trailed off, then blinked a couple times. “What was I sayin’ again?”

“Thanks, Sally,” said Liz. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Sally patted her shoulders. “Dat’s what friends are for.”

“I mean...” Liz made a halfhearted effort to raise a fry to her teeth, but it failed. “...you’re right. Petey-Peter. He- He was never worth my time. Stupid nerd cared more about his precious photography career than he ever did about me.”

“Parker wouldn’t know a hot girl if she kissed ’im on the mouth. Dating you was the closest he’s eva gonna get to an actual, like, quality date.” Just then, Sally’s eyes flitted from the beach cafe to the plain old beach. “Unless ya count the Midtown bicycle ova there.”

Liz followed Sally’s eyes to find an ever-growing horde of cute boys forming around a certain, unmissable redhead. Those boys must’ve been real wits because Mary Jane was laughing at every single one of their jokes.

“What, Mary Jane?” Liz frowned. “Doesn’t seem like the worst he could do...”

Sally snorted. “Yeah, well, Watson’s not the worst anyone could do, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

“What, like, she’s the lowest common denominator of dating options?”

“What? No, I’m sayin’ she’s a skank.” Sally took a particularly angry sip of her soda. “Even Glory’s startin’ to see it. Y’know I saw Watson and Parker at the mall the otha day? It’s bad enough she was his pity date to the Fall Formal, but now she’s gotta be his rebound, too?”

“But MJ’s still with my brother-”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s countin’ down the years till he’s outta jail.” Sally caught herself. “Uh, no offense.”

“None taken,” Liz said dryly.

With Sally’s words bouncing around her skull, though, Liz couldn’t help but spy on MJ for the next couple minutes. The girl’s attitude did come off as distinctly exaggerated. At one point, while MJ was out swimming with all her new guy friends, a stray wave even just-so-happened to hit her in the chest.

“My top!” MJ cried out in her loudest possible voice, giggling like mad.

About a dozen chivalrous gentleman promptly scrambled to retrieve it while MJ hid herself beneath the water. And the lucky guy to actually salvage the item from the waves was… Hobie Brown. Mary Jane graciously accepted the gift, and then Hobie opened his mouth – only to be silenced by a scowl from Mindy McPherson over on the beach. After that, Hobie had to hurry off to tend to his date.

Okay, Peter had to admit, this grimy, grungy back alley was something of a step down from Miami Beach. Though admittedly, anywhere outside Manhattan felt like an alien planet to him. The building were so short here. He didn’t trust short buildings.

Peter couldn’t help but feel out of place in his swim trunks, especially when Harry and Gwen had actually bothered changing back to their normal clothes. But honestly, throwing his trademark blue t-shirt back on had been about as much effort as Peter had been willing to put into his appearance.

“This should be the place,” Gwen said, glancing back down at her phone’s GPS.

Harry looked at the building before them like he thought it was a plate of day-old caviar. “We, uh, sure the country’s top biogeneticist works here?”

“Yep.” Gwen glanced away to mutter, “And we have your dad to thank for it…”

Before Harry had time to reply, Peter cleared his throat. “K-Kind of a cool coincidence that we’re vacationing right near the Connors’s place, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, huge coincidence,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes, “because I never try to do nice things for my girlfriend.”

“This was very thoughtful of you, Harry.” Gwen patted his shoulder, though even that small gesture of affection came with a great deal of reluctance.

To be perfectly honest, Peter could’ve done without Harry inviting himself along for this visit, but then, Peter supposed it was too much to hope Harry would give him and Gwen even a second of alone time together (Mary Jane, on the other hand, had been given plenty of alone time to suffer with Tiny).

The door was answered by an older, wearier version of Martha Connors. “Peter, Gwen, come in! And you must be Harry.”

Next thing they knew, the trio were being given a tour of the Connors’s new lab. Not that there was much to tour. This room was so cramped, it’d have passed for the workplace of a high school chemistry class.

But more interesting than the rundown Bunsen burners and cracked beakers were the people here. There was Billy lurking at the lab’s far end, blasting Space Wackos on a box-sized computer, though its fans whirred as loud as a jet engine. And speaking of relics, the trio was introduced to the Connors’s new lab assistant, Vincent, an utter fossil of a man. Vincent didn’t strike Peter as much of a conversationalist (think Treebeard), but Gwen was right in the middle of a bold and valiant effort to make small talk with him when something big and fuzzy scurried across the table.

“Eeeeigh-!” Gwen stumbled back, shrieking, and Harry was instantly at her side to sooth her… except Peter had got there first.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” said a high, bouncy, somewhat scratchy voice. “That’s just Hungry Joe. Sneaks in whenever Billy leaves crumbs everywhere.”

As it turned out, the creature was a raccoon, and it turned back to hiss at them before scampering off through an open window.

“Sorry,” said Billy, eyes glued to his monitor.

With the raccoon long gone, Peter, Gwen, and Harry turned their attention the last remaining unfamiliar face in here. The somewhat scratchy voice belonged to a goatee-wearing guy who looked to be in his mid-thirties, thin as a pole and sporting pasty white skin beneath his baggy t-shirt. If the dude’s hair had been brown instead of jet black, Peter would’ve expected him to start begging for Scooby Snacks.

The guy offered out his hand for each of them to shake. “Mike.”

The trio accepted the shake in turn.

“Harry.”

“Gwen.”

“Peter.”

At this last one, Mike paused. “Parker?”

“Y-Yeah.”

His face promptly lit up. “Dude, when did you quit wearing diapers?”

“Um…”

“I was a friend of your dad’s, man. He was one of my professors back in college.” The way Mike was grinning and vibrating in place, you’d think he was still that age. “There’s no way you’d remember me, though. But it’s cool to see you’re following in his footsteps.”

“Y-Yep. He was a great guy.” Well, Peter wasn’t following the exact same footsteps as his dad…

“Maybe someday you could finish that super adhesive formula he was always working on,” Mike added.

Organic. Everyone thinks your webs are organic. Your secret ID’s not at risk for once. “Yeah, someday, maybe. Can’t really make heads or tails of it right now, though.” Peter supposed busting out his web-shooters and showing everyone the fluid inside might strain credulity just the tiniest bit.

Mike pursed his lips. “That’s too bad. Your dad always wanted that adhesive to be, like, the next big thing.” But in the seconds, the lips curled shamelessly upwards. “He never could make it stick, though.”

No sooner were the words out his mouth than a wave of groans swept across the lab. “Miiiiike.”

“That was horrible,” Curt muttered, clutching his forehead.

But while the rest of the lab’s occupants were groaning, Mike was laughing. In fact, he laughed and laughed until it became a coughing fit, one bad enough for him to whip a hanky out his khakis’s pocket to catch airborne flecks of phlegm.

“You okay-?” Gwen started. But her question was answered when she caught sight of the handkerchief. “Is that blood?”

All at once, Peter and Harry jolted while Mr. and Mrs. Connors winced. Even Billy was torn away from his gaming session to give Mike a look of discomfort.

“It’s nothing-” Martha began, but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Marth.” The sudden solemness in Mike’s voice made Peter shudder. Made the dude sound like a whole different person. “We can tell ’em.”

After a slow nod, Curt began, “Mike has an extremely rare, extremely severe form of anemia.”

“It’s not that bad,” Mike said immediately. “I’d been meaning to lose some weight.”

“We’re doing everything we can to help him,” Martha continued, “but… without all of ESU’s resources…” She trailed off, eyes on the floor.

Silence emanated through the lab.

“It’s really not that big a deal.” Mike let out the smallest of chuckles. “I mean, I kinda wish I could take up surfing again, but sunlight makes it, like, a million times worse…” He trailed off a moment. “A-Anyways, I don’t want you guys worrying about me, okay?” Despite his pale skin, he still managed a warm smile. “You’ve got a vacation to get back to.”

Gwen lay belly-up on her hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It was easily the most comfortable sleeping arrangements she’d ever had in her life, and yet it failed to phase her.

“Whattaya MEAN I can’t room with Rand?” Outside, an ear-bleeding voice echoed down the halls. “He’s MY MAN!”

Gwen rolled over on her shoulder, groaning.

“Need some earmuffs?” said a considerably more pleasant voice.

Gwen sat up to find Mary Jane looming over her bed. Wow, even the girl’s PJs were the height of fashion.

“Thanks.” Gwen accepted the muffs without hesitation.

But even once the muffs had been taken, MJ remained in place. “Hey, girlfriend? There are no hard feelings over me, err, making Pete my personal photographer for the week, are there?” MJ glanced away, clutching her arm. “Hope that didn’t rub you the wrong way. It’s just for the good of my career, I swear.”

Gwen took this in for a moment, then said, “You promise you don’t have feelings for him?”

There was silence. Then a scoff. “Phht. If I like Tiger so much, why didn’t I hook up with him after the Fall Formal? Poor guy was practically salivating over me.”

“Oh yeah, good point.” Gwen drew back at this, cheeks growing hot. “Sorry, guess I’m being paranoid.”

“I’d say you’ve earned that privilege.” MJ pointed a thumb through the door to the adjacent guest room. Specifically, to Liz’s bed, which was as far away from theirs as physically possible. “Now c’mon, you know Pete only notices me the way he notices the girls on magazines covers. You’re his one-and-only, end of story.” Mary Jane met her eyes. “You’re my best friend, Gwen, and we’d never let something dumb as a guy come between that. Right?” She offered out her knuckles.

“…Right.” After a second, Gwen accepted the fist bump.

Harry lay belly-up on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d helped himself to his own private room while sticking Peter with Flash and Kong, and he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t get a sick delight out of that.

“So how was the beach?” asked a voice from the wall. “Make any sand-angels?”

On sheer reflex, Harry sprang up to find another one of Smythe’s robots perched there, staring at him with its camera, pensive.

“What’s the deal with the Connors?” Harry asked with a calmness that surprised even himself.

At this, the robot cocked its camera “face.” Smythe’s voice emanated from it. “Those guys? Not much to say. Your dear old dad figured having the country’s top biogeneticist in his pocket might be helpful to his super-mercenary production. Pretty simple con – Your dad funded their work, got his mitts on all the Connors’ research, then found some excuse to give them the boot and set up his lackey, Warren, in their place. It was your dad’s guiding hand that got the Connors way in over their heads with projects they couldn’t even begin to grasp the ramifications of, which led to all sorts of fun. Just look at Electro! I’d say your dad’s scheme was a smashing success.”

Harry’s face was tightening. “So now that Mike guy’s gonna die of his blood disease because Oscorp cut off the Connors’ funding?”

“Yep,” said Smythe. “Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Hilarious.”

Even after the laboratory lights were shut off, Curt, Martha, and Vincent lingered in the doorway. They glanced back, waiting for Mike to catch up to them.

“You guys head out without me,” Mike said, batting a hand at them from his seat at the lab table. “I’m gonna keep working a while longer.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Curt said, “Alright. Just be sure to lock up after yourself, Michael.”

“You got it, Doc.”

And with that, Michael was left alone in the shadow-draped laboratory.

Chapter Text

Everyone was here. Flash, Kong, Mary Jane, even Peter’s aunt. Every last vacationer stood at the slope of the artificially snowy mountain, preparing to ski to the bottom. All except the two who mattered most.

They weren’t even answering their phones. Harry shouldn’t have been surprised. He should’ve known Peter and Gwen would sneak off to make out with each other first chance they got.

Peter and Gwen sat shoulder to shoulder, about three feet apart, fiddling tirelessly with vials and chemicals as they hunched over the grungy laboratory table.

“You kids really don’t have to do this,” said a frowning Martha from behind them.

“We’re not just going to goof off all week while Mike gets worse and worse,” Gwen replied, eyes on her work. “I helped make the gene cleanser. I can help with this, too.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “and this is the least I can do after those Lizard pics ended up in the Bugle…” Of course, the other reason Peter was helping out was that, to be honest, going a whole week without doing something heroic made his hair stand on end. Even if he couldn’t change into Spider-Man, he could still do some good as plain old Peter Parker.

“Well, we do appreciate you pitching in,” said Curt, who was likewise hunched over the table, “especially since Vincent seems to have skipped work today…” Billy wasn’t here, either, judging by the telltale silence where the whirring of a computer fan would normally reside.

“But- But we don’t want you kids to get your hopes up,” Martha added, shoulders slouched. “Curt and I have been working with Mike for days now, and we still haven’t-”

“Huh-Hey, what’s with all the long faces?” It was at this point that Mike himself burst in from the back room, smiling from ear to ear and strolling towards them – though his path was somewhat circuitous. “Guys, c’mon, relax, I’m probably gonna be… gonna be… fine.”

“Mike?” Luckily, Curt managed to catch Mike in his hands – sorry, hand – before he face-planted. “You’re getting whoozy. You should lie down until-”

“Phht. Come on.” Mike batted a trembling hand at him. “It’ll take more than a little blood thing to stop… to stop… Mike M… Morb… Hrrgh.”

“Michael?” Martha called out.

Now Peter and Gwen were on their feet, too, swapping worried looks. Peter would’ve thought Mike was about to throw up – or even drop dead on the spot. Except… neither of those would’ve made his spider-sense start blaring like a siren.

“Gwen, get back.” Peter tackled Gwen to the tile floor just as it started to happen.

Just as Mike’s arms started to snap and stretch. As thick brown fur started to sprout from his pores. As his face grew scrunched up and distorted… while his teeth twisted into a pair of fangs.

Mike’s last word, spoken mid-transformation, became an animalistic shriek: “Morrrrrrrbius.” But after that, the creature dropped the English language in favor of spitting and hissing. With a lumbering first step, Morbius prowled forward on all fours. With the brown, hairy skin running from his forearms to his torso, he was a dead ringer for a vampire bat.

And here’s the thing – Peter might’ve had his own built-in alarm system, but Curt wasn’t so lucky. He’d been caught completely off guard… meaning he was helpless to stop the beast from pinning him to the ground and helping itself to all the blood in its neck.

From within Peter’s arms, Gwen let out a shriek of her own. “It’s happening again.” The words were high and fast. “It’s happening again.”

And across them in the lab, Martha seemed to be in a similar state. Peter was the only one here not panicking. Made sense, seeing as he’d had the most experience with danger – and at least with the Lizard, the others had had some kind of prior notice. Mike had transformed out of friggin’ nowhere.

“Michael! What did you d-?” Too late. Morbius’s fangs had already sunken deep into Connors’s neck. The creature drank long and deep before finally releasing Connors, splattering crimson flecks on the grimy tile floor.

“No. This- This can’t-” A chill had gone over Dr. Connors’s entire body.

“M-Mr. Connors?” Gwen swallowed. That hungry stare Morbius was giving her likely wasn’t helping her nerves.

“His venom,” Curt stammered out. “It could have mutagenic properties.”

Peter couldn’t help but flinch. Mutagenic venom? Like the one from a certain genetically-altered spider? If the Connors had pieced that together… what else had they figured out?

“It has no effect on most people, but if someone has non-human DNA lying dormant inside them...” Curt couldn’t finish that thought. He was too busy howling in agony as the stub that was once his arm twisted and stretched. There was a piercing howl, and the next thing the others knew, they were staring down a massive, dark green reptile in a tattered lab coat.

But the Lizard, to his credit, took one look around the lab, hissed, and pounced right for Count Chocula over there. Great. The lab had turned into a black and white film serial, and for once, Peter was actually rooting for the Lizard.

Bang. But Peter’s thoughts were broken by an earsplitting sound. All heads, monsters’ included, shot towards one Martha Connors. While the beasts had been busy naked mud wrestling, Martha had, evidently, whipped out a pistol in one hand and as many vials of yellow liquid as she could carry in the other. Gene cleanser.

“We were afraid this day would come,” Martha stammered out, glancing back at the teens. “But not like this. We- I-” She fired a couple more rounds, aiming for the creatures’ eyes, but with how much the things moved around, the most the bullets did was bounce harmlessly off their hide. Great. It wasn’t enough for them to be giant monsters, they had to be super strong, genetically-altered giant monsters.

All Martha managed to do was goad the Lizard into smacking her across the room with his tail.

“No-!” Gwen at least had the fortitude to cover her mouth before her scream could carry too far.

This wasn’t as big a deal as it seemed. Spider-Man had taken on the whole Sinister Six by his onesie last Christmas Eve. He could do this without breaking a sweat. Only downside was he didn’t exactly have all the time in the world to slip off and change into costume.

Okay, Peter knew this was screwed up, but… that fact made him hesitate.

“Peter.” The hesitation lasted long enough for Gwen to grab his arm and yank with all her might. The monsters had gone back to tossing each other into tables and sending splinters raining down, meaning Gwen had plenty of time to drag herself and Peter into a janitorial closet and slam the door shut. “I- I think we’re safe in here,” she whispered.

“Yeah-” Peter nodded to the door handle. “-unless the Lizard’s seen Jurassic Park.”

“What?”

“Sorry. I joke when I’m scared.”

“Okay. Okay, I think if- if we just keep quiet, they might kill each other or… I don’t know.” Gwen’s voice broke. The only light in here came from the crack beneath the door, but it was enough for Peter to tell what was trickling down Gwen’s eyes.

“Gwen… shh… It’s gonna be okay.” Peter leaned forward to stroke her hair, though he nearly smacked into a mop handle.

But Gwen shook her head. “No. No, it is not going to be okay.” Her words were gaining speed. “I thought it was just in Manhattan, but- but this is the way the world is now, Peter. It’s never going to stop.”

A moment passed, during which the only sounds came from her heaving chest and the battle outside.

“Gwen...” Peter forced himself to inhale. “I have to go back out there.”

“What?” Gwen looked torn between wanting to kiss him and strangle him. “But you-! I-! Don’t you dare tell me you need to take pictures.”

“You don’t underst-” Peter tried to rise to his feet, but she yanked him back down.

“Please, just- just stay with me.” Her forehead touched his. “I love you, Peter. I’ve loved you since seventh grade. I know I told you that already, but I don’t want you to think I’ve just got some childish crush.” Their faces hadn’t been terribly far apart to begin with, but now they were even less so. “I love you with all my heart-” Before Peter had time to blink, Gwen was going a million words a second. “-and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I can’t stand Harry #$*% him he’s an asshole and you’re literally the only person I’ve ever had sex fantasies about besides Daniel Radcliffe and I’m sorry I waited all these years to tell you I’ve been so scared I didn’t think you’d want me and when you said you’d dump Liz to be with me I… I...” She’d finally run out of steam.

Gwen flinched – A palm had touched the back of her hand.

“I love you, too,” said Peter. “Even if I was too stupid to realize it till recently.”

Gwen made a noise between a laugh and a sniffle. “I know why you want to go out there. Only explanation. You’d… never want to leave me otherwise.” Silence. “It’s okay, Peter. Go.”

A second passed. Then Peter’s hand left hers. His t-shirt and long-sleeved undershirt were removed in one smooth motion, revealing the red spandex beneath. Gwen stared at the spider-logo a moment, then shut her eyes. She nodded. Then Peter slipped on his mask, rose, and then gently opened the door, exited the closet, and shut it back behind himself.

A hurricane had swept through the lab before him, reducing all the tables and equipment to rubble. A hurricane made of fur and fangs and scales. On the upside, the two clashing titans were still in here, meaning they hadn’t escaped to terrorize the college campus outside (which was considerably smaller than the ESU campus, but still). On the downside, Martha was unconscious in the corner with a pretty nasty welt on her forehead. As soon as one beast killed the other, there was no question who their attention would turn towards next.

Or would’ve turned towards next if Spider-Man hadn’t called out, “Uh, Mike, don’t look now, but you might wanna be sitting down next time you check the mirror. Assuming anything even shows up, I mean.”

In synch, both creatures’ heads snapped towards him. In unison, they prowled forth. Aww, look at that, they’d formed a temporary truce. How heartwarming.

Morbius was the first to lunge- “Y’know, if you’re thirsty, you could always just try the Red Cross.” -only to have Spidey flip over him, web his squished-up face, and then swing him into Lizard like a bludgeon. “I swear, vampires have no common sense…” Good, good, the duct tape on Spidey’s web-shooters was holding for now.

Neither eight-foot-tall monster seemed to appreciate that much, but they were at least distracted long enough for Spider-Man to sprint for Martha. A buncha yellow vials had tumbled out her lab coat, which Spidey snatched up from afar with a quickly-spun web-line. He couldn’t blame the Connors for mass producing gene cleanser. If Spidey was Curt, he’d chug a bottle of cleanser a day. And also hard liquor.

“H-Hey, Mikey.” Right as the monsters recovered and got back on their clawed feet, Spider-Man stepped forward. He held up a vial. “Here, eat a Snickers. You turn into a living vampire when you’re hungry-”

“Ragh!” Morbius lunged, and Spidey’s sense tingled. Unfortunately, Spider-Man chose to deal with that tingling by flying onto the ceiling. This was unfortunate because, as it turned out, Morbius was every bit as flighty as him. Those bat wings weren’t just for show after all.

“Hey- Agh!” Which meant the next second, Spider-Man was being dragged downwards via a pair of fangs in his heck. Almost instantly, he kicked Morbius off him, but even that little nibble had been too much. Peter could feel his insides moving. “No. No, that can’t-”

Agony. White, hot agony seared through his body, sending him spasming on the ground. So if Curt’s dormant, non-human DNA turned him into the Lizard again, what would Peter’s…?

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. There was one last scream, followed by the riiiip of the spandex around Peter’s torso. Peter brought a hand to his mouth. Then, purely on muscle memory, he brought a second hand to his mouth.

And then a third hand. And then a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth.

“It’s official,” he said, dazed. “My life’s written by Kafka.” Remember what he’d just told Gwen about joking when he was scared? Yeah. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most surreal sensation he’d ever experienced. Peter wiggled all thirty of his fingers at once. He wasn’t sure if it made him want to faint or throw up. Probably both.

The sight of all the new wiggling appendages, though, only drew the monsters’ attention. Lizard lunged for him, but Spider-Man sprang onto the ceiling, causing Lizzy to instead dive into a rack of particularly fragile lab equipment. He hardly had time to hiss in displeasure before Spider-Man dropped down on him, swinging all six of his fists.

Phew, that’d been a close one. Lizard had almost chomped off one of his arms. Though at least now Spider-Man had some redundancies…

Spidey was just about to swing another three or four fists when the tune of the Itsy-Bitsy Spider sounded from his utility belt. Actually, come to think of it, answering his phone and swinging multiple fists were no longer mutually exclusive actions. “Hello?”

“Pete.” MJ’s voice. “Look, I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but you did promise to get some pics of me in the snow, and you totally hung me out to dry here.”

“Uh… would you believe I’ve got a really, really good excuse?”

“Oh, I know why you did it.” There came laughter from the speaker. “I get these last few days have been frustrating, Tiger. It’s not that I blame you for sneaking off with Gwen. I mean, I’m sure you two are having fun-”

Peter almost missed that part because he had to duck a swipe of the Lizard’s claws.

“-but you’ve gotta understand, I- I know I’m not exactly an open book when it comes to my life, but this modeling thing is a big deal to me. And besides that, you guys are being, like, legit rude to Harry. I mean, way to ruin his vacation.”

“Oh, his vacation is ruined…?”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” At this point, Peter had to toss the phone from his middle right hand to his bottom left hand, thus freeing the middle right one to sucker punch Morbius in the jaw. “But look, MJ, me and Gwen aren’t- Hnnnnngh.” Suddenly, five out of six arms were clutching Peter’s chest.

“Uhhhh… Tiger?”

The best reply Peter could muster was a moan, followed by the thump, thump of Lizard and Morbius smacking into him.

From Mary Jane’s end, there came a moment of silence. “Ooooookay, I’m gonna hang up now. Hope you’re being safe…”

Whatever other comments Mary Jane might have made, though, were cut off. Peter’s phone had just been smashed by a giant, hairy leg. One of eight such legs, in fact.

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real this wasn’t real this wasn’t real. Even in Gwen’s nightmares, there hadn’t been three giant, man-eating monsters. Yet there they were – a giant lizard, a giant vampire bat, and now a giant, black spider, too, like a man-sized version of the genetically-altered ones from the ESU lab.

Gwen nearly gave herself away by creaking open the closet door an inch too far, but thankfully, the monsters were too busy tearing into each other to notice her.

“Reeeeeeeearg!” Spider-Man’s costume had been ripped to shreds, sending web-shooter and utility-belt shards raining down. Or maybe it’d be more correct to say it was Man-Spider’s costume. The sight of the big, black creature’s drooling pincers nearly made Gwen lose her lunch. Christ, she’d wanted to know for sure if Peter was really Spider-Man, but not like this. Why couldn’t he have been bit by a genetically-altered bunny?

But Gwen couldn’t just sit here gaping. She had to do something. If she didn’t, Mrs. Connors could be next. Wait, speaking of Mrs. Connors, her gun and gene cleanser vials were all still lying out on the floor. Gwen had already seen how effective the gun was against the monsters themselves, but… this gave her an idea.

Right as Man-Spider was getting the upper hand against the Lizard and Morbius (Seemed Spidey kicked ass no matter what form he was in), Gwen took one last, steadying breath, and then sprinted out the closet. She dived for the gun, gave a prayer of thanks for all those times her dad had dragged her to the shooting range, and then aimed the weapon at her target…

“Sorry, Hungry Joe.” Bang. Where a second ago, the poor raccoon had been cowering under a table, there was now a crumpled pile of blood and meat.

The tradeoff, though, was that the noise had drawn all three creatures’ attentions. Before they could move towards her, Gwen steadied herself, held her breath to keep from getting too nauseous, and poured out the contents of as many gene cleanser vials as she could on the raccoon meat… before tossing it to the beasts.

The three of them started fighting over and tearing into the meal like a pack of dogs.

Her work finished, Gwen allowed herself to collapse to the ground, panting. There, she’d done it. She’d outsmarted them. Well, that or this wasn’t going to work and now Gwen was about to get ripped apart by horrible monsters. One or the other.

Two hands stroked Gwen’s hair while two more rubbed her shoulders and the remaining two wrapped around her torso.

“Oh, Gwendy,” said Peter, “you don’t know how relieved I am that you still love me even though I have to live the rest of my life with six arms.”

“Of course I love you, Peter,” Gwen said, giggling. “I love you almost as much as I love my boyfriend Harry.”

“Oh…”

But suddenly, Gwen’s face grew concerned. “Peter? Peter? Peter?”

“Huh? Whuh?” Peter’s eyes shot open to reveal he was lying belly up in the Connors’ lab. Or what was left of it, anyways. “Ugh…” He clutched his throbbing forehead. “The heck happened?” And to be clear, he was clutching it with one of his two hands. No more, no less.

Gwen – the real one, not the dream one – let out a relieved laugh as her own pair of exactly two arms wrapped around him. “I’ll be honest,” she said with a furtive smile, “this is not at all how I pictured my first time seeing you naked.”

The two of them burst out laughing, though Peter had to stop pretty quickly to throw up chunks of raccoon.

Sometime later, Peter found himself dressed in some of Curt’s spare (and a teeny bit oversized) clothes while he, Gwen, and the Connors gathered around what had once been the lab’s central table and what was now a couple shards of table with the occasional claw mark in them. Mike had been politely asked to wait in the back office, Vincent was still MIA, and Billy had never come into the lab today – His school system wasn’t on spring break, thank God.

“…swear you won’t tell my aunt about this,” Peter was saying. “I worry about her heart enough as it is.”

“Well, we can understand that Peter,” Martha said, arms folded, “and to be perfectly honest, Curt and I’ve suspected this ever since Venom’s little news announcement, but…”

“…what we don’t understand is why you do any of this,” Curt finished.

“Why am I Spider-Man?” At this question, Peter buried his palm in his forehead for the umpteenth time that day. “Hoo boy, we could spend all night on that topic alone, but… I’m sorry, I’m worn out, and- and I think that’s enough questions for today. I got turned into a giant spider-monster – I need a nap.” At this, Gwen gave him a concerned frown, but Peter ignored her.

“Well, I guess I can’t begrudge you your choices in light of-” Curt’s head bowed. “-our own. You should go.” He turned away. “We’ve done enough damage to you kids.”

“Dr. Connors-” Gwen began.

“Our carelessness led to Electro and that spider-bite and- and-” Curt forced himself to take a breath. “I should’ve anticipated that Michael might be desperate enough to break into my off-limits research. I suppose he realized vampire bats have a natural immunity to his blood disease, and he figured it’d be analogous to my research with reptiles…”

“That’s on his shoulders, not yours,” Peter said softly. “And the rest were all accidents. I don’t hold anything against you guys.”

“Well, maybe you should.” Curt let out a scoff. “We do seem to cause an awful lot of accidents. And now, thanks to us, your DNA’s forever stained… just like mine.”

In fact, the “stain” ran so deep that even after that gene cleanser had cured Peter of being the Man-Spider, it still hadn’t cured him of being plain old Spider-Man. Heck, Peter had opted to have this whole conversation from the ceiling just to make sure his powers weren’t fading on him.

“Well, that Lizard research is all getting destroyed,” said Martha. “We promise you that, so this will never happen again. Should’ve done it a long time ago…” She faltered. “I just don’t understand why Michael kept what he did from us. If he’d just told us, we could’ve put a stop to this before… before…” She held her husband tighter.

Peter gave a slow nod. “I guess, even if you think you’re doing good…” His eyes went to Gwen. “…there are some things you shouldn’t keep from the people you care about.”

The dimly lit back alley leading to the Connors’ lab sure did have an echo. It made the howling wind sound extra spooky. Peter sat side by side with Gwen on the lab’s front steps, listening to that wind as they watched the sun grow smaller and smaller beneath the horizon.

“So.” Peter’s but scooted towards hers. “Daniel Radcliffe, huh?”

“Oh, like you’ve never thought about Daniel Radcliffe.”

There was a moment of silence. Then a much longer moment of riotous laughter.

It took a minute for the two to collect themselves. Finally, Gwen returned to her feet, wiping her eyes. “Wow. This has been a day. You’re really-?” She looked back up at Peter. “I watched you change into costume, and I still don’t believe it.”

“What, you think I wear that thing under my clothes at all times just to mess with you?” More laughter.

“I don’t know, anything’s possible.” Good, good, Gwen’s lips were back in the curled-upwards position where they belonged. “Maybe I need to see some proo-?”

Thwip. A strand of webbing yanked her forward. She almost tumbled to the pavement.

Good thing a superhero was there to catch her. The two of them held that pose, Peter gazing into her big, sea blue eyes, and Gwen gazing into to his even bigger white ones. “Don’t tell Aunt May. She’ll ground me until the end of time.”

“My lips are sealed.” There was a giggle. “Metaphorically speaking...”

“G-Gwen...” Her lips were drawing nearer to his. Peter had a dim recollection of someone doing that to him before, but he was honestly having trouble thinking of any girl right now who wasn’t blonde with a headband. “What about Harry?”

“Who?” asked a breathless Gwen.

Peter had always wanted to try his hand at The Look.

“I-I didn’t wanna to break up with him over text – the mean way – but I swear I’ll do it.” Those sea blue eyes of hers weren’t growing any smaller. “In a second...” In fact, they were growing bigger… bigger...

“Gwen?” said a third voice.

“Harry!”

Luckily, by the time Harry rounded the corner, Peter and Gwen were on opposite ends of the alleyway, and that strand of webbing was safely tucked inside Gwen’s jacket.

“Sorry for not answering our phones.” Gwen gave a hug of apology. “We let ourselves get distracted.”

But that didn’t stop Harry from giving them a sour look. “Really? Why, having too much fun together?”

“We were helping out with Mike’s illness,” Gwen said immediately. “Ask the Connors if you don’t believe us.”

After that, Harry didn’t press the issue… though he sure looked like he wanted to.

Despite everything, Peter and Gwen ended up encouraging Mike to see them off at the airport.

“Guys,” he began, hoarse, “I know there’s no forgiving what I did, but…”

Peter silenced him with a hand on the shoulder. “It’s okay, man. You didn’t know. And I mean, hey, look on the bright side – At least you didn’t sparkle.”

That only made Mike look even more lost. “Sparkle?”

“Y'know what, I'm not explaining it. You’ve been through enough already.”

“Actually, though, speaking of you in the sunlight-” Gwen shot Mike a concerned glance. “-are you sure you want to be outside this much? I thought that made your anemia worse?”

Mike took a moment to reply. “It does,” he said slowly, “but at this point, it doesn’t exactly make much of a difference. Truth is, I’d rather spend a few good days in the sun than a handful more in the shade.”

“I see.” Gwen took this is in silently. Her nose was twitching the way it always did when she was lost in thought.

Eventually, Mike left, and Peter and Gwen had a merciful few seconds to themselves before Harry tracked them down like a bloodhound.

“I can’t keep waiting, Peter,” Gwen admitted, brushing hair from her eyes. “God, I was in love with you enough before I knew you’d saved my life a bazillion times over…”

“A-All in a day’s work.” Peter was stunned. Was his karma finally kicking in?

“I promise you, I’m breaking up with Harry.” Gwen paused. “Just as soon as we get back home and he’s had time to settle down.”

“Right, right.” Peter forced himself to nod. “Wouldn’t want to ruin his vacation. He doesn’t deserve that.” As they walked, he glanced over her shoulder. “Oop, there’s the private jet up ahead. Better not walk too close together…” Before reaching the other Midtown High kids, though, there was at least time for one last hug.

Peter almost wished he’d kept the extra arms, if only so he could hug her even tighter.

Even this private jet wasn’t private enough for Gwen’s liking, but she and Mary Jane at least managed to slip away from the other passengers long enough for a little chat.

“So, um-” Gwen’s eyes flitted to where Glory and Sha Shan were conferring a couple seats up. “-what did you need to talk with me about, MJ?”

Mary Jane smirked at her, shoulder on the armrest. “Just wanna make sure you realize everyone here knows what’s up with you and Tiger, and sooner or later you’re gonna get busted.”

“What?” Gwen’s heart was thumping faster for a whole multitude of reasons. “What do you mean, ‘what’s up’ with me and T-?” She nearly bit her tongue off. “With me and Peter?”

That only made the smirk bigger. “Please, don’t act like I didn’t see you two being all whispery and giggly outside the jet. I mean, you’re holding yourself totally different around him now. Pretty obvious, really.”

“Oh.” All of a sudden, Gwen’s eyes were rolling.

“You guys had better have the most airtight alibi of all time.” MJ pointed out the jet’s two elderly women a couple seats behind them. “Why do you think me and Pete’s aunts insisted on tagging along? Mrs. Parker’s gonna tell your dad, and then you’ll never see the light of day again-”

“We were at the Connors’ place.” The words came a bit sharper than Gwen had meant. “They’ll vouch for us.”

MJ’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Whoa, I didn’t think those guys were so cool.”

“Oh, that is not what I-”

“Nice.” Mj showed off her perfect white teeth. “Niiiiiice.”

“Em Jaaaaay…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll drop it.” Mary Jane held her hands out, innocent. “I mean, you know I’m your wingwoman, though, so if you ever wanna do girl talk, I am THERE.”

“Yeah, thanks, I get the pict-”

“I mean, seriously, did you SEE Tiger on the beach? You keep that boy, Gwen. Just… high five. You’ve earned it- Not The Look, not The Look!”

Elsewhere in the skies flew a different jet. One containing a withered old man. He held a phone to his droopy ear.

“Did you get it?” asked a voice from the receiver.

“Oh, my, yes.” The man touched the jump drive-shaped lump in his dress pants’ pocket. “Those saps never suspected little old Vincent.” He chuckled to himself. “You won’t believe everything I’ve found, Mr. Kingsley. Particularly the bits regarding reptiles…”

“Thank you kindly,” said the voice. “You’ve been a great help to Tricorp, Dr. Stegron.”

Chapter Text

Rockaway Beach wasn't the most exciting place in a city full of super-people duking it out on a daily basis. Nevertheless, the little girl came here as often as she could, improving her sandcastle skills and periodically taking a wistful glance at the dunes, as if she was expecting them to come alive any moment now.

Actually, that’s exactly what she was expecting.

Rockaway Beach wasn't the most exciting place in New York, but it was worth the wait to finally see your castle quadruple in size before your eyes.

“Hey, kid.” A face formed on one of the turrets, compete with googly white cartoon eyes (made of colored sand, of course).

“You're back!” The girl threw her arms around the turret, cuddling up against its face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh... don't tell anyone you saw me here, alright?”

“Okay, Sandman.”

The next couple hours were spent making sandcastles and sanddragons and sandunicorns, and then Sandman buried the girl up to her neck, and then she tried to bury him up to his neck (which didn't really work), and then she made sand angels, and then...

It wasn't until sunset that the girl's parents finally called out, “Come on! Time to go!” Once they were safely out of sight, Sandman shifted back into human-shape so the girl could give him a goodbye hug.

The girl yawned. “You made me tired.”

“Nah, that's the other Sandman.”

“What?”

“Nevermind... G'bye, kid.”

The girl wrapped her hand around his thumb. “Can't you come home with me? You can live in my bedroom and I'll find plenty of sand to feed you and-”

“Sorry, kid.” Sandman shook his head, scattering grains everywhere. “Your folks wouldn't want me around.”

“Because you're a criminal?”

“Was a criminal,” said Sandman. “I don't do that no more.”

“Then why do you always have to hide?”

Sandman's eyes drifted towards the horizon. “I... I don't know.”

“Hey, Aunt May!” Peter caught his aunt halfway to the laundry room with a basket in her hands. “Notice anything different about me?”

May's face was a perfect blank. “You got a haircut?”

Peter’s face, by contrast, went sour. “I shaved.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” May immediately nodded in agreement. “I see it now. Your chin looks completely transformed.”

“Thanks, Aunt May. You always know how to boost my self-esteem.”

“Why are you getting all dressed up, anyhow?” May took another look over Peter. He was wearing a clean t-shirt, a jacket, and jeans, which was about as dressed up as Peter ever got.

“I'm, uh...” Peter's eyes drifted towards the ceiling. “...going out with a friend.”

Aunt May raised a white eyebrow. “This wouldn't happen to be a female friend, would it?”

“She might be of the feminine persuasion, yes.”

“Well, I hope she’s not feminine enough to make you forget curfew’s at ten.”

“Of course!” Peter's face was the picture of innocence. “Why would I ever stay out with a girl past curfew?”

May laughed in spite of herself. Peter was about to exit their idyllic Forest Hills home, but she caught his arm. “Oh, and Peter? No hanky panky.”

“Don't worry,” said Peter. “My hanky is a panky-free zone.”

“Peter.”

“I mean, yes ma'am. I’ll be a perfect gentleman to Gwen, promise.”

But at this, May frowned. “Gwen? Did she break up with Harry?”

“Um… About that...” At this, Peter shrank. “The thing is, Gwen and I were going to go out, but we were both dating other people, so we signed a Satanic pact in our own blood that said we'd each break up with them and hook up with each other. I did my part, but then Harry's dad died, and Gwen didn't have the heart to...”

Aunt May's The Look could give Gwen's The Look a run for its money. “Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Gwen’s breaking up with Hare any day now!” Peter said hurriedly. “And, I mean, just because me and Gwen are hanging out together doesn’t make it a date or anything. We were friends for years before all this romance stuff entered the equation anyways, right? We hang out all the time.”

“I suppose you’re right.” May let out a sigh. “Just try not to break too many hearts, dear.”

“Hey, c’mon, you know me.” Slowly, Peter turned back for the door. “Honesty’s my middle name.”

Wow, that was his funniest joke yet.

“It’s funny.” Gwen leaned over the bridge railing, gazing down into one of Central Park’s many lakes. “Ever since our fateful little vacation, I- I see you so differently. But it’s not like the old Peter went away. More like the camera panned back on you, I guess.”

Peter’s only reply was a grunt. To be perfectly honest, Gwen’s face had ended up sucking him in moreso than her words. She’d made a considerably stronger effort than him to look nice, judging from the sky blue dress she had on. Coupled with her pink headband, it gave her kind of a light pastel, “cotton candy” look. It was hard to put into words, exactly, but Gwen was attractive in, like, the exact opposite way as Black Cat or MJ. Gwen didn’t speak in a perpetually seductive voice or wear skintight black outfits – not that either trait would pair badly with her, but… but…

Aaaand now he was picturing Gwen with red hair and a catsuit. Dang it, Parker, this is NOT the time or place for those thoughts. Think of something unsexy, think of something unsexy…

“You okay?” asked Gwen. “You've got kind of a far-off look in your eyes.”

Doctor Octopus in a speedo. Yes, that would do.

“Just… uh… thinking about my old supervillains, I guess.” That was one way to put it. “I mean…” Peter hung his head. “…you’ve crossed paths with an awful lot of ’em.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen said softly. “Horrifying as spring break got, it was worth it in the end.”

“Still…” Peter forced a deep breath. “You know the city’s supervillain spike didn’t happen at random. Most of ’em were custom made to fight Spider-Man.”

“And every time, Spider-Man’s been there to stop them before anyone gets hurt,” Gwen countered.

“Sure, but… let’s not forget who saved the Web-Head when he turned into Man-Spider.” Peter managed a smile. “Between that and the Master Planner thing, that’s, what, twice now you’ve saved my life?”

“Still a ways to go to break your record, though.” It seemed Gwen was every bit as lost in his eyes as he was in hers.

“Yeah, well…” Peter exhaled. “At first, I thought being Spidey was the coolest thing ever, but lately, it feels like when my friends aren’t turning into supervillains, I’m getting chewed out by the people I save or- or breaking my web-shooters and embarrassing myself...” He trailed off. “Wow. I’ve never been able to complain about this stuff to another person before. It feels kinda...”

“Good?” offered Gwen.

“I was gonna say ‘weird.’”

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the ducks drift through the water.

“So,” said Peter, “wanna go get hotdogs?”

“Sure.”

“I'll buy.”

Gwen folded her arms. “I can pay for my own hotdog.”

“Oh thank God. I don't actually have any money.

Gwen looked like she had a quite a retort, but just as she opened her mouth, a police car sped by the edge of the park, sirens blaring. Gwen gave Peter a quizzical look.

“He's probably just handing out a speeding ticket,” said Peter.

Another police car sped past.

“I'm sure it's nothing the cops can't-”

Followed by another five.

“I'd better go.”

After that, Gwen followed Peter out the park to watch him duck into a back alley. She even acted as his lookout while he changed into costume. Right before tugging on his mask, Peter slid his newly-rebuilt web-shooters onto his wrists. A problem arose, however, when it came time for Spider-Man to swing into action. See, the novelty hadn’t gotten close to wearing off, and so Gwen ended up staring at Peter so longingly, in such awe, like he was her favorite rock star… that the next thing Peter knew, his mask was rolling back over his chin, and her lips were way closer all of a sudden, and…

“Gwendolyn.”

“Dad!” Gwen’s head pivoted towards the grizzled, white-haired police chief standing at the alley entrance. There was plenty of room for her head to do that, seeing as it was a good three feet away from Spider-Man’s. “We were just-!”

“I thought I saw you duck in here.” Gwen’s dad peered at the two of them, folding his arms. “It’s a relief to see you’re… in good hands.”

“No broken teeth, Miss Stacy!” Spidey promptly sprang onto the alley wall. “Th-That’s good.” He looked down at Gwen’s dad. “You keep her out of trouble, sir! I have to save this girl from danger all the time. Such as from- from getting elbowed in the face by a mugger just now.” It occurred to him that he should roll his mask back down over his chin. “I was also elbowed in the face. We- We were checking each other at the same time. More efficient that way.”

He looked to Gwen. She was screaming at him with her eyes.

“I should go! Who knows how many other citizens need their teeth checked?” Thwip. Spider-Man was gone.

Gwen’s brain had burned out a long time ago, so now she was merely slouched in the passenger seat of her dad’s cop car. She was dangerously close to drooling.

“So,” said her father, eyes on the road, hands on the steering wheel, “how were Spider-Man’s teeth?”

“Dad!” If there was any remark capable of waking Gwen from her vegetative state, it was that one.

“It’s alright, Gwen.” A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “I’d been wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Gwen’s seat belt went tight. “Figure what out?”

Another chuckle. “Well, I certainly hope you weren’t inspecting the teeth of a total stranger...”

Gwen’s only reply was to blush even harder. Always the detective, wasn’t he?

Checking her phone was about a billion times easier than looking her dad in the eyes right now. Currently, there was nothing on Gwen's phone but the wallpaper of her mom. Guess Gwen would have to get used to that.

Man, though, Gwen couldn't even begin to fathom how much stress Peter was under. Constantly putting his life on the line, being attacked by supervillains every other day... It must’ve been a nightmare.

“Whoohoo!” Spider-Man sailed through the skies of New York City via his newly-repaired web-shooters (Yeah, he’d finally gotten around to fixing them), then landed in the middle of the street, right across from a broken shop window and screeching alarm. Before him stood a man in a monkey costume holding a plasma screen TV box.

“You've finally met your match, Spider-Man!” The guy pulled himself to his full height. “I... am... THE GIBBON!” (Said height was about five feet tall.)

Spidey held out his hands. “You... are... the perfect target practice for my shiny new web-shooters!” Thwip.

From inside his cocoon, the Gibbon muttered, “I thought they were organic...”

Peter was really Spider-Man. Just thinking it made Gwen's head spin. Peter Parker was the one who’d saved her life from lizard-people and electricity-people and octopus-people and slimy alien-people and probably some other types of people she was forgetting. In one fell swoop, Peter had gone from being the cowardly-but-cute guy who fled from the villains and took pics from a safe distance to… to Mr. Skintight Spandex.

Suddenly, the phone's screen winked on. Gwen almost cried out in delight. Until she actually read it.

Come over NOW. Found more of the Green. I need you.

Gwen’s cry wasn’t as delighted as she’d have hoped. “Dad! Dad!”

An armored truck barreled down Park Avenue. It was about twice as big and twice as fast as any truck was allowed to be.

“Yeah!” screamed the goombah behind the wheel.

“What are you so happy about?” snapped his partner in the passenger's seat. “Did you see how many police cars are on our tail?”

“So what?” said the goombah as he ran a red light. “We stole a whole arsenal of Stark tech! No one can beat us now! The world's our oyster! Besides, can you imagine the look on Silver Sable's face when I hand her all these guns? She'll have enough fire power to storm Ryker's and free her dad! She'll be so grateful to me, maybe she'll even-”

He was cut off by his partner's hideous laughter. “You seriously think you've got a chance with Sable? YOU?”

“Hey,” said a third voice, “if she'll date a dude who looks like Hammerhead-”

“Spider-Man!” The goombah swerved wildly, but Spidey was stuck tight to the truck's hood.

“You know my name? I'm honored! Here, let me in so I can shake your hand.” Spidey smashed his fist into the windshield, but it remained distinctly un-shattered. “Huh. Someone sprung for the reinforced glass.”

“Take the wheel! Take the wheel! I got him!”

“What? No, you idiot-!”

The goombah released the steering wheel so he could grab a fancy-looking laser-rifle from the floorboard (TM Stark Industries all rights reserved). Then he rolled down the window and aimed for a certain friendly neighborhood fella.

“Watch it, Ralphie, you'll shoot your eye out!” The next thing he knew, Spidey was ducking plasma blasts. Stupid Tony Stark guy pumping all these weapons into the world… Were there any rich people who weren’t corrupt?

Suddenly, the goombah's partner shrieked and Spider-Man got maximum strength spider-sense tingles. He managed to hop onto a nearby wall in time, but the truck wasn't so lucky. With a screech of tires and an ear-splitting crash, it smacked into something in the middle of the street. Some kind of brownish dust was sent scattering everywhere.

“What the-? Oh no.” Spider-Man groaned. Now the “brown dust” was taking the shape of hands and holding the truck down. Next up, sand seeped through the cracks of the truck and engulfed the passengers.

By the time Sandman solidified in the middle of the road, complete with his trademark striped green shirt, he was surrounded by every last squad car in the district.

“Marko? You're alive?” Spidey hopped down, landing between him and the police. “Well, this is awkward. We've already deleted your Facebook, sold all your stuff on Craigslist-”

“What, you really thought gettin' turned to glass was enough to stop the Sandman?” Sandman puffed out his chest. “Evenin', officers. Got a little somthin' for ya.” He threw a big pile of sand their way, and resting in the center was a duo of criminal masterminds.

“I wonder if there are any hot chicks in prison?” said the goombah.

“Yeah,” said his partner, “I'm sure Ryker's Men's Prison is crawling with babes.”

Every last officer aimed their guns and/or tasers at Sandman.

“I've turned over a new leaf,” Sandman told the crowd. “I'm a hero now.”

“Are you joking?” yelled Sergeant Carter. “Do you know how many laws you've broken just by existing, you freak?”

Sergeant DeWolff, on the other hand, put away her weapon. “Carter, if you've got a way to arrest a man made out of living sand, be my guest. As for the rest of you,” she called out to her fellow officers, “if the Sandman's not currently a threat to public safety, I suggest we don't antagonize him.”

Sandman turned to Spider-Man. “Hey, Web-Head, can I talk to you in private?”

You couldn't tell with the mask on, but Spider-Man looked highly skeptical. “The last time you said you wanted to be a hero, you called me gullible and then punched me in the face.”

Sandman held up his hands. “No tricks, I swear. From now on, I'm goin' straight.”

“Aww, but you and O'Hirn were so cute together.”

“Ha ha.”

Spider-Man and Sandman adjourned to a nearby rooftop. When the old spider-sense failed to tingle, Spidey cautiously seated himself, letting his legs hang over the building. Beside him, Sandman simply let his legs turn to mush, which seemed to be his way of relaxing his muscles – or, uh, silicate particles.

“So,” Spidey began, “what made you change your mind about becoming a hero?”

“I guess it all started with that oil tanker...” Sandman's eyes wandered towards the ocean on the horizon. “I was so reckless, I nearly killed a boatload of people. All I ever wanted was the big score – I never wanted to rack up a body count. It made me realize something. With my powers, I can pretty much do whatever I want and nobody can stop me-”

“Well, I like to think I never failed to stop you...”

“Those were flukes,” huffed Sandman. “The point is, I'm really, really powerful, but I realized that also means I gotta be really, really, uh...”

“Responsible?”

“Nah, that sounds dumb. I'll think of a catchier way o' wordin' it later.”

Spider-Man folded his arms and grumbled something under his breath.

“Anyways,” Sandman continued, “the explosion turned me to glass, but it didn't turn all o’ me to glass. What was left o’ me escaped and ate some more raw silicates, but then I thought, hey, I might not have been dead, but everyone thought I was dead. It was a chance to leave Manhattan and, y'know, look for the big score somewhere else.”

Spidey leaned back, kicking up his feet against the building's railing. “Somewhere with less arachnid-themed heroes to foil your plans?”

“Exactly. Without any superheroes around, bein' a crook was easy pickins. All I had to do was lay low and not make a scene every time I stole somethin', and I could pretty much get away with anything.” Sandman bowed his head. “And that's when – Well, I never checked in with a therapist or nothin', but I think I got some pretty bad depression. Back when I was just Flint Marko, I was never really on good terms with my family, and I'd be on even worse terms with 'em if they knew I was a freak now. The only friend I ever made was O'Hirn – He'll probably laugh at me for goin' soft, but whatever. And if you hadn't noticed, I'm made o' sand, so I can't taste food or do drugs or pick up hookers. Not for lack of trying-”

“Too much information, dude.”

“I realized that even if I got my big score, I'd have nothin' to spend it on.” Sandman scowled to himself. “I mean, what, I'd buy a nice house so I could lounge around all day playin' video games and watchin' Netflix? I've done more than enough of that already, let me tell ya.” He shook his head, sending flecks of sand through the air. “Heck, I even started gettin' all existential. Like, am I ever gonna grow old? Am I ever gonna die? Can I die?” He sighed. “I was a lab accident – I bet not even the jerks at Oscorp know for sure. So, like I said, I got depressed.”

Sandman shut his eyes again. A tranquility seemed to be overtaking his face. “Then I remembered the oil tanker... how good it felt to save all those people... and I remembered what you said to me.”

Gwen raced into the penthouse to find Harry hunched over on his living room couch, staring out the window.

“I'm here, Harry! What happened?”

“There- There was- They raided Menken's apartment,” Harry stammered. “They found so much Green. It's all downstairs. It would’ve been so easy to just… slip down there and...” His voice broke.

“Harry...” Gwen seated herself and wrapped her arms around him. “I will never let you go back on the Green.”

“I know, Gwen... I know...” Harry’s face became buried in her shoulder.

“We need to tell your mom.” Gwen placed a hand over his. “Something’s bothering you, Harry. Ever since that Hobgoblin guy attacked you… Please, you have to tell me what’s really going on with-”

“Nothing’s ‘really’ going on, Gwen, I swear.” Harry was trembling. “All you need to know is that I love you, and when I’m with you, everything is okay.” His face was growing closer. “I love you so much. You know that, don't you? You're my savior.”

For the umpteenth time today, Gwen’s cheeks grew hot. “Harry, that's-”

She couldn’t get five words in before his lips were on hers.

Chapter Text

Sandman grinned at Spider-Man. From this altitude, the wind was blowing a couple grains from his cheeks. “So here I am, bein' a hero like you wanted. Yeah, Hammerhead and the Big Man are gonna be ticked, but what's the worst they can do to me, right?”

“Actually, the feds are shoving themselves up Tombstone's nose right now, so you're probably in the clear,” said Spider-Man.

“Even better.”

Spider-Man brought a hand to his forehead. “Alright, alright... Look, Marko, believe me, I'm glad to hear you're joining the side of the angels and all, and I want you to be happy, but you've gotta realize, being a superhero's not exactly a walk in the park. I'd take video games and Netflix over having a different supervillain for every day of the week. I don't do this because it makes me happy – I do it because it's my responsibility. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Sandman's eyes were glazed over. “Hey, people will like me a lot better now that I'm a superhero, right? Maybe I could meet someone, make a new life for myself?”

Spider-Man rose to his feet. “I hope so, Marko. You're a good guy. But I should warn you, the Daily Bugle's gonna drag your name through the mud.”

“I love Sandman!” Jameson held up tomorrow’s front page. “SANDMAN FOILS THE KANGAROO,” it read, complete with a big picture of a man in a kangaroo costume buried from the neck-down in sand. “Finally, New York gets a nice, respectable hero who doesn't hide behind a mask! Everyone knows he's, uh...” He turned to his secretary.

“Flint Marko,” said Betty Brant without looking up from her computer.

“Right, Flint Marko. And the best part is, he's so good at stopping crooks, he makes Spider-Man look like a total loser!”

“But Mr. Jameson,” spoke up Peter from behind his own computer, “Sandman used to be a criminal! Maybe we should be keeping an eye out in case he, y'know, relapses?”

“I know he was a criminal,” said Jameson. “That's the best part. Everyone loves a redemption story!”

“So if Spider-Man renounced his 'criminal ways' and gave up his secret identity, would you suddenly trust him?”

“Don't confuse the issue, Parker!” Jameson turned to a man waiting in the corner of the Bugle – a long-haired, bearded, glasses-wearing kinda guy. “You! Urich! Drop whatever investigation you were doing on that D-list vigilante of yours and write a piece on Sandman instead.”

Urich rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Mr. Jameson.”

“You!” Jameson turned to Ned Lee, who was hovering as always by Betty's desk. “Stop making goo-goo eyes at my secretary and drop that stupid Spider-Man secret identity report! The Web-Slinger's old hat now.”

“What?” Lee was disarmed. “But what do you want me to do instead?”

“I dunno, go investigate that shady perfume factory or something.”

Lee sighed. “Yes, Mr. Jameson.”

“And you!” Jameson pointed at Peter. “If you're so good at taking pictures of Spider-Man, you should be great at taking pictures of Sandman! I want more on my desk pronto. NOW EVERYONE, GET TO WORK!”

Thwip. Spidey barely paid attention to where he was going as he swung away from the Bugle building. Don't get him wrong, Spider-Man was thrilled to have the extra help, but, as much as he hated to admit it, Spidey couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards old Sandy. Ah well, Spidey wasn't a superhero for the glory. Who cared if Sandman was more popular?

But then... if Sandman was so much better at being a hero than Spider-Man – and with those sand-powers of his, it was pretty tough to beat him – well, didn't that... didn't that make Spider-Man obsolete? Maybe the Web-Head wasn't needed anymore?

“Boys, we have a problem on our hands.”

Smythe had gathered Harry and Dr. Warren down in the deepest regions of the abandoned police station. It was a place filled with glowing, whirring machinery and plenty of robots with guns pointed at Harry's face at all times. Harry was visibly sweating.

“And that problem is named Sandman.” Smythe pressed a button, causing his hoverchair to project holographic footage of Sandman foiling a bank heist. “Considering we can't even beat a kid in spandex, Sandman poses an enormous threat to our operations.”

Warren shook his head. “Once again, I find myself cleaning up after Octavius's mistakes. Why am I not surprised? Lucky for us, Oscorp created Sandman, and that means Oscorp can un-create him.”

“S-So we're going to kill him?” said Harry. “But this Sandman guy hasn't gone after us yet.”

“The criminal underworld is an integral part of Oscrop's rise to power,” said Smythe. “The longer we let Marko roam free, the greater a risk he poses to it.”

“But if he's so powerful, how are we supposed to beat him?”

“First, we need to understand how he works.” Warren held out his clipboard, which was crammed full of notes.

“Yeah, how does Sandman work?” asked Harry. “How the heck can a person be made out of sand?”

“Two words,” said Smythe. “Nanomachines, son.”

“Octavius built a self-replicating machine,” said Warren, eyes glued to his notes. “Then Flint Marko's brain was scanned by one of my own devices, and an exact copy of his consciousness was stored onto that self-replicating machine. Then it was only a matter of using stolen Pym particles to shrink the machine to microscopic size. At that point, it was designed to then bond with silicone granules, take on their properties, and then replicate, effectively creating a 'sand hive mind.'”

Smythe made a show of rolling his eyes. “It's beyond me why you'd want a human mind in charge when you've already got perfectly serviceable robots.”

“The AI would've been too complex to program,” said Warren.

“Yes, and the brain of Flint Marko is such a better alternative...”

“Next, the subject was infused with the nanomachine-silicone granules. The idea was to give him subdermal armor that could be mentally controlled, such as the Scorpion’s tail. The problem is, the method in which Octavius introduced the subdermal particles went haywire, and instead of giving him armor beneath his skin, Flint Marko's entire body was replaced. The granules lost the ability to hold their shape properly, giving Sandman his versatile shapeshifting abilities.”

“So Sandman is like a robot with a human brain?” said Harry.

“Did you think the guy made of pure sand was organic?” Smythe deadpanned.

“There are some striking parallels to natural organisms,” said Warren. “As I always say, biology is the most advanced robotics. Sandman can only control sand connected to his central body. Eventually, the nanobots' lifespans run out, and the sand grains they're bonded to fall out of the hive mind. Sandman can't infest the same grain with a nanobot twice, which is why he must periodically 'eat' raw silicates so that the nanobots can self-replicate and bond the new machines to the sand grains.”

“Where do they get the power source to self-replicate indefinitely like that?” asked Harry.

Smythe patted his shoulder. “That's complicated grown-up stuff. You wouldn't understand.”

“There seems to be no upper limit to how much sand can join the hive mind at once.” Warren flipped his clipboard around to show them a photo of an enormous Sandman towering over an oil tanker. “In theory, Sandman will run out of energy and die once he's fused with all available raw silicates in the universe.”

“Yes, well, I'd rather not deal with a planet-sized Sandman, if it's all the same to you” said Smythe.

“Giving armor to super-mercenaries is one thing, but turning a person into sand seems so...” Harry faltered. “...unethical.”

“I know.” Smythe grinned. “Isn't it great? And now we're going to do it again!”

Harry gave a start. “What? You want to make another Sandman on purpose?”

“Gotta fight fire with fire.” Smythe turned to Warren. “Is the subject ready?”

“Right over here.” Warren pressed a button on the wall, causing a screen to wink on. The monitor displayed a man strapped to some sort of machinery, struggling against his restraints.

“Hello?” the man called out. “Is anyone there? Where am I?”

Harry was trembling. “That guy's not a volunteer like Mac Gargan, is he?”

“Nope. This is Norman's old demolitions expert, Morris Bench,” said Smythe. “He racked up quite a debt, and this is how he's paying it off.”

“Oh God.” Now Harry looked more than a little ill.

“Well, if he didn't want to be mutated into a freak of nature, he shouldn't have associated with Oscorp in the first place.”

“Don't worry,” said Warren. “We won't make the same mistakes as Octavius. We'll be sure to include a way to control this one. I've already had some success with the subdermal armor concept. For Molten Man, I added additional nanobots whose job it was to hold the armor's shape, allowing the particles to be evenly distributed. This time, however, we'll be making the subject a shapeshifter on purpose.”

“But how will making another Sandman help kill the first one?” asked Harry.

“Oh, don't worry, little Osborn.” Smythe looked pleased with himself. “I've got that covered. Now, then, Dr. Warren, without further ado...”

“Yes.” Warren took one last glance over his clipboard. “Oh, I hope you don't mind, but as per usual, I improved Octavius's designs. If we're not specifically trying to make subdermal armor this time, silicone granules seem like an odd choice for the nanobots to bond to. I've programmed ours to bond to molecules that are a bit more... fluid.”

“SANDMAN! PREPARE FOR YOUR DEMISE!”

There was a man in a kangaroo costume standing in the middle of Brooklyn, shrieking his head off and waving around a sack of stolen cash. Huh, that was the second one this week.

“You'll pay for humiliating my idol, Frank Oliver! I am the new Kangaroo, and I will make you suffer my HIPPITY-HOP OF DOOM-”

Thwoof. A burst of sand sent the Kangaroo flying backwards.

“Man, bein' a superhero is easy.” Sandman took shape on the sidewalk.

As the police led the Kangaroo away, a brown-haired boy in a blue t-shirt approached the green-shirted superhero.

“Excuse me, Sandman, sir?” Peter held out his camera. “Peter Parker, Daily Bugle photographer. Would you pose for some pictures?”

Sandman grinned. “Sure, kid. Just be sure to get my good side.”

This felt weird. It went against every bone in Peter's body not to web his camera to the wall, change into costume, and then beat up Sandman in front of it. He wouldn't even be telling a white lie when he handed Jameson the pictures. Peter wasn't sure he could handle that.

But as it turned out, before Peter could snap a single photo, a nearby fire hydrant exploded.

Spider-sense tingling. Around the time the torrent of water formed into a humanoid shape, Peter made the call to duck into an alleyway and change into costume. He even made sure to web his camera to the wall – looked like he'd spoken too soon.

By the time Spider-Man jumped back into the scene, Sandman had already morphed himself to about double his usual size and turned his hands into sledgehammers. Across from him, the water gushing from the hydrant had almost solidified. This new supervillain seemed, for all intents and purposes, like a watery Sandman – kind of an average-looking blonde guy with a dark blue t-shirt. Or at least, that's probably what he'd looked like prior to the whole, y'know, water-powers thing. Now he looked more like a bunch of colored water in the shape of an average-looking guy.

“You know, when I told Hobgoblin I wanted more cheap knock-off villains, I was being sarcastic.” Spider-Man looked from Sandman to the new guy. “Hmm, let me guess, your name's Aquam- No, taken. Okay, you're Bubblem- Hmm, no, too 'Robot Master.' Wait, I've got it, you're Hydro-Man!”

Hydro-Man's reaction to his christening was to launch a jet stream at Sandman. Sandman had the common sense to make a hole in his chest, meaning the water punched a hole in the wall behind him. Holy cow, that was some tough water.

“Where'd you come from, pal?” asked Sandman. “What do you want with me?”

“I have- have to kill you!” From his slurred sentences and heavy panting, Hydro-Man didn't come across as the most stable of individuals. “Or else th-they... won't... let me... die...”

Sandman traded glances with Spider-Man. “Sounds like whatever happened to this guy, he didn't take it as well as me. His brain's turned to mush.”

“Any plans to beat a dude made of water?” asked Spider-Man.

“You... can’t!” A miniature tidal wave erupted from Hydro-Man's chest. Spidey immediately webbed up some bystanders and swung them to higher ground while Sandman morphed into a wall to take the impact.

Once the flood was past and the pedestrians were safely on a rooftop, Spidey jumped back into the fray. “So we've got Sandman, Molten Man, and now Hydro-Man. Now all we need are Windman and Heartman, and you'll be able to let your powers comb-”

“Shut up!” Another jet of water punched a whole in the wall mere inches from Spidey's beautiful, beautiful face. “Don't you see what's happened to us?” Hydro-Man launched his entire self at Sandman, but Sandman sidestepped him. “We're freaks of nature! We have to die!”

“Dude, chill for a minute!” yelled Sandman, dodging swipes of Hydro-Man's watery arms. “If you keep spazzing out like this, you'll drown innocent people!”

Hydro-Man seemed too preoccupied with flailing around like a maniac to care.

“Sandman!” yelled Spidey. “I think he's after you. Let's take the fight somewhere with less people around!”

“You got it, Web-Head.” Sandman obediently slithered towards the nearby beach, and Hydro-Man followed suit.

Wait, Hydro-Man was headed towards the ocean? Spider-Man was no expert on mutated water-people, but something told him that was a bad thing. “Sandman, wait!” He swung after them, but by the time he arrived at Rockaway Beach, it was too late.

Sandman had merged himself with the beach, while Hydro-Man dived into the ocean and vanished. And the next instant, well... picture a Japanese monster movie. Any Japanese monster movie. Twin behemoths, one of sand and one of water, towered over the skyline.

“Okay,” Spider-Man said aloud, “I think our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is officially outclassed with this one. If only I had a giant robot...”

Yeah, there wasn't a lot a strong, fast guy who squirted adhesive could do against the gigantic, living elemental beasts. And that meant Spidey would be focusing on getting civilians out of harm's way while he prayed for the Hulk or the Fantastic Four or Jesus to pop out and save the day.

While Spider-Man swung around like a chicken with its head cut off, the ocean was busy punching the beach in the chest.

“Knock it off!” said Sandman. “If we could just talk things out for a minute-”

“I had a family!” yelled Hydro-Man. “I had a life! And now I'm a monster doomed to die!”

“Doomed to die? What are you-? Agh!” Suddenly, the region of sand struck by Hydro-Man's massive fist fell off of Sandman's body. “What did you do to me?”

“We have to die,” said Hydro-Man. “We both have to die.”

“Screw this!” Sandman – or what was left of him – turned into a whirlwind of dust and shot away.

“Sandman, wait!” Spidey yelled after him, but it was no good. Looked like Sandman was heading towards the nearest storm drain. So would Hydro-Man leave the ocean and follow after him, or...?

“Wait, wait!” Suddenly, the woman Spider-Man had been ferrying to safety started shrieking her head off. “My daughter!”

No. Spidey turned towards the beach. There was indeed a little girl sitting in the sand. She was staring at the massive water monster spiraling above her, paralyzed with fear. Spidey immediately swung for her, but she was too far away, and a tidal wave was coming in fast. He wasn't gonna make it! He wasn't gonna-

“I got you!” A big, sandy hand scooped the girl up and flung her into Spider-Man's arms.

“Sandman, look out!” The little girl screamed.

The next thing anyone knew, a massive wave of water hit the sand.

Harry stared at the screen. His jaw hung open. The footage from Smythe's spy-robots was of pure pandemonium as beachgoers fled from the eruption of water and sand.

Harry turned to scowl at robots’ owner. “Do you have any idea how many people Bench is about to to kill, you sociopath?”

Smythe threw his hands in the air. “Well, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

Smythe rolled his eyes. “Calm down, little Osborn. I've got it all under control.”

“Bench got into the ocean!” snapped Harry. “What happens when those nanobots self-replicate and merge with the whole freaking ocean?”

“Hydro-Man will be very, very big,” said Smythe. “Duh.”

“Didn't you and Warren put any limit on how many nanobots there can be? Aren't you worried about gray goo?”

“Actually, I've come hilariously close to starting a gray goo apocalypse on five separate occasions. Not counting this one.”

Harry's fists were gripped so tightly, his knuckles were turning white.

“Calm down, I know what I'm doing,” said Smythe. “I put a kill-switch into Bench's nanobots. At the push of a button, they'll self-terminate. Better yet, they've got a virus that'll infect Sandman's nanobots with the same programming upon contact. As soon as Sandman's contracted the virus, I press this button here-” He pointed to a panel on his hoverchair's armrest. “-and boom, no more Sandman or Hydro-Man.”

“That... That works.” Harry seemed to ease up the slightest amount. “So you don't want to keep Hydro-Man around, then?”

“Of course not,” snorted Smythe. “These shapeshifter-types are way too hard to control. Norman controlled Molten Man because he could switch his subdermal armor on and off, but Hydro-Man's mutation is irreversible. The only reason I got him to follow orders is because I promised him the sweet release of death.” He glanced back at the screen. “Oh, speak of the devil, I think Sandman's getting the virus now.”

“Sandman! Sandman!” The little girl struggled in vein against her mother's grasp.

“Yeah, I wanna save him, too, kid,” sighed Spider-Man, “but there's nothing we can do.”

How had Spider-Man beaten Sandman before? Cement? Freezing? That probably wasn't gonna work against the entire ocean. So far, Hydro-Man had only fused with the water a couple feet out from the shore, but he was growing by the minute. Pretty soon, this would be a global threat, right? The Fantastic Four had to show up sooner or later. At the very least, you’d think the Sub-Mariner would pop out to yell at Hydro-Man to get off his lawn.

With a deafening boom, Hydro-Man pinned Sandman down against the beach (Well, Sandman technically was the beach, but... you get it). Sandman struggled to escape, but he also happened to be the only thing holding Hydro-Man back from flooding the horde of innocent people scrambling for safety.

Sandman caught the little girl's eyes, then Spider-Man's. “I... I don't do this because it makes me happy.”

Spider-Man nodded.

The next instant, Hydro-Man merged into every last one of Sandman's pores. For a moment, the two of them squished together into some kind of giant-sized Mud-Thing... and then there was a sploosh, and the creature collapsed into a big pile of wet sand.

Spider-Man blinked. “Does anyone else have no clue what just happened, or is it just me?” He ran over to the wreckage of the fight, but both the sand and the water was now totally lifeless. “I guess they canceled each other out somehow.”

He scooped the mud up in his glove. Were they both really gone? Sandman could be hiding again, but Hydro-Man seemed more like the 'attack everything blindly' type. Beneath his mask, Peter shut his eyes. They'd have re-formed by now. “What I said last time... it's really true now. You finally got your big score, Marko.”

The last time Peter had said that, Marko had turned out to still be alive. Peter sincerely hoped that was the case this time, too, but the odds weren't looking great. Peter might not have understood what the heck was going on here, but he did know one thing – Whoever sent Hydro-Man after Sandman had murdered a good man. Two good men, assuming Hydro-Man was an innocent victim in all this.

Peter watched the sand slip between his gloved fingers. He didn't know for sure who the culprit here was, but between Scorpion and Hydro-Man, he was willing to bet Oscorp was involved. He thought that particular nightmare had been over when Norman died, but it looked like Peter couldn't keep ignoring it and hoping no more supervillains showed up. He had to cut this off at the source.

As the last of the sand slipped away, Peter made a vow. This was the last life Oscorp would ruin. No more Flint Markos. No more Mark Allans. No more Harry Osborns.

The little girl stared at the sand at her feet. Rockaway Beach wasn't the most exciting place in New York, but it was worth the wait. Sometimes you just had to be patient, that was all. Any minute now... Any minute now...

Chapter Text

Gwen watched the buildings zoom by. Her head was about to explode. Peter was Spider-Man and her dad already knew and Harry had kissed her and she'd let him and she had a paper due tomorrow that she hadn't even started on.

“Gwen?” From the driver's seat, her dad broke her out of her thoughts. His eyes stayed fixed on the road as he spoke. “I'll be blunt. I know this is the oldest 'dad saying' in the book, but I don't like your boyfriend.”

Gwen tensed. “I'm only trying to help him.”

“That's noble of you, but Harry has a mother and a therapist who probably costs ten times as much as ours. It's their jobs to help him, not yours.”

“The truth is… I don't like Harry, either.” Gwen impulsively touched her nose – force of habit from her glasses-wearing days. “I was about to break up with him, but then his dad... y'know." She inhaled. "If I leave him, he could get back on the Green.”

“Yes, and he knows it.” At the red light, Gwen's dad hit the breaks a little too hard. “I've seen my share of recovering addicts, Gwen. I know how they think. Why would Harry ever want to get better if it means his girlfriend will leave him? All you're doing is digging yourselves deeper.”

“Okay, okay, you're right.” Gwen glanced at her phone. Still nothing from Peter. “I'm going to break up with him. I just need to find the right moment, that's all.”

Silence filled the car.

“Hey, uh, Dad?” Gwen could feel her cheeks growing hotter. “Random question: How would you feel about your daughter dating a superhero?”

“Depends.” Her father smirked at her through the rear view mirror. “We talking Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne?”

“Well, this one does wear red and blue...”

“I'd say associating with Spider-Man puts you in danger, but being my daughter does that anyways.” Her father let out a sigh. “Octavius is in Ravencroft, and the tech he stole is at the bottom of the ocean, but I wouldn't put it past him to have backups somewhere. And Toomes, Beck, and Kravinoff are still at large. That's half the Sinister Six.”

“The Terrible Three?”

“Sure. The point is, they may want leverage over me again, and...” He took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at her. “...I wouldn’t object if Spider-Man had some added incentive to keep you safe.”

Thwip. Sometimes, when Spidey was really lost in thought, he'd swing circles and circles around Times Square. It got to the point where dozens of webs hung off the same few buildings like a horde of giant spiders had come through.

Spidey couldn’t help but titter to himself as he looped around a flagpole. Having a girlfriend who knew he was Spider-Man would be all kinds of awesome. Really, it was a good thing Peter had dated Liz before Gwen – It'd been a great proof of concept that secret identities and dating lives didn’t mix. He wouldn't make the same mistake with Gwen. He'd be completely transparent with her. Peter wasn't just infatuated with her because she batted her eyelashes at him – He really loved Gwen. Even when Eddie and Harry had turned into creeps, Gwen had always been there for Peter, had always cared about him. It'd taken Peter a boneheadedly long time to realize it, but Gwen was more than his best friend.

But at the same time, the fact that Eddie was still blurting out Spidey's identity to anyone who'd listen didn't bode well. Weren't Doc Ock and Electro in Ravencroft, too? What if they overheard Eddie's ramblings? Or worse, what if Oscorp found out?

Spider-Man was reasonably sure Oscorp was to blame for his supervillain troubles – He didn't know what other organization in New York had the will and the resources to go after old Web-Head like this. The trouble was, Oscorp was a huge company that employed a whole bunch of people. They couldn't all be in on the conspiracy, could they? It was probably only the higher-ups. Stormin' Norman had obviously known what was up, but he was six feet under now, and Donald Menken was in Ryker's. That was two goblins down. Who did that leave? Harry? No way. Just because he was recovering from goblin-flavored steroid addiction didn't mean he was an amoral monster. But... grr, Spidey couldn't think of any better suspects. Guess he'd be investigating Harry after all. And right when he'd been getting used to not thinking of Harry as the Green Goblin.

Wait. What about Professor Warren? Err, the college professor at Empire State, not his brother at Midtown High. Miles Warren been all buddy-buddy with Norman, hadn't he? Maybe he was continuing the Goblin's work? Spidey wouldn't put it past him – Warren was a total creeper. That settled it. Spider-Man would swing over to Empire State right now and-

Riiiing.A shop alarm?

This ought to be good. After webbing his camera to a flagpole, Spidey dropped down to the street to find a familiar face in a bear costume running off with a fistful of jewelry.

“Maxwell!” he called out. “It's been too long! Out of Ravencroft, I see. How are the ribs doing?”

“Spider-Man!” The Grizzly made his most ursine snarl. “I will crush your bones in my jaws!”

“The Daily Bugle really raked me over the coals last time, so before I clock you, I want to make it clear that as a total nerd myself, I respect all internet subcultures. I was only kidding before. It's not what you look like on the outside that makes you a complete doof-”

“Raaaaaarwr!” Spidey ducked a swipe of the Grizzly's claws.

“Don't worry, I'll be sure to give you a nice soft tap this time.” He smashed his fist into the Grizzly's hairy chest- Clang. -and then fell backwards, clutching his knuckles. “Ow, what the-?”

“Surprised?” The Grizzly grinned. “It's a steel exoskeleton. I took your advice – Now the suit actually does give me super strength.”

“Wow, you're learning.” Spidey backflipped out of range of the Grizzly's claws. “At this rate, maybe you'll finally pass kindergarten.”

Spider-sense. But where-?

A black portal opened by Spidey's head. Crack. Before he realized what was happening, a fist popped out to smack him in the face.

“Hear that, Grizzly?” Out stepped a man in a white, skintight one-piece covered in black polka dots. “Kindergarten, he says.”

“Ohhh, I get it.” The Grizzly cracked his knuckles. “He's saying I ain't passed kindergarten yet because I'm stupid. Ha. Funny.”

From his smear on the pavement, Spidey feigned applause. “Very good, Maxwell.”

Spider-sense again? Spidey tumbled out of the way, narrowly avoiding a third supervillain smashing into the pavement.

“If you wanna patronize someone, why don't you patronize THE GIBBON?” The Gibbon pulled himself to his full stature, which seemed to be a good foot taller than last time.

“Well, if you ins-” And it tingles a third time. Spidey hopped into the air, landing on a flagpole just as the Kangaroo emerged from one of Spot's portals. He took his place beside his comrades.

“Finally, I can get revenge on the man who put my idol, Frank Oliver, behind bars.” The Kangaroo cackled to himself.

“Actually, that was Sandman, remember-?”

“DON'T TRY TO CONFUSE ME WITH YOUR MIND-TRICKS, WALL-CRAWLER!”

The team of Grizzly, Spot, Gibbon, and Kangaroo II approached Spider-Man in unison.

“You've finally met your match, Web-Slinger,” said the Spot. “We are the Spider-Man Revenge Squad!”

“Oh no,” said Spider-Man. “I'm in trouble now. Move over, Sinister Six.”

Whoa, what the-? The next thing Spidey knew, Gibbon and Kangaroo were flying at his face. It took every last drop of his spider-reflexes not to get punched again. Man, they were fast.

“Surprised, Spider-Man?” Kangaroo sneered. “The four of us met in Ravencroft, then escaped together and pooled our money to buy the Tinkerer's finest mechsuits.” He gestured to the angular lumps under their costumes.

“And I've been practicing with my powers, like, a whole bunch!” added Spot. “There are so many applications of my spots I'd never thought of before!” Suddenly, a black circle formed at Spidey's feet.

“Agh!” Spidey fell out another circle, putting him in range of Grizzly's fists. Crack. Spider-Man went tumbling across the pavement. “G-Good job, Spot. Now you're thinking with-”

“Die!” Grizzly tried to body-slam Spidey, but he rolled out of the way at the last second.

“So if Frank Oliver is Kangaroo's idol, who's yours?” asked Spider-Man. “Nic Cage?”

Gah, max-strength spider-sense! Four more portals opened in the air around Spidey's head, and out popped four different fists. Next thing Spidey knew, he was seeing stars.

“We got him!”

“Come on, let's scram before he gets back up!”

The Spider-Man Revenge Squad grabbed as much jewelry as they could carry, then ducked into one of Spot's portals, which promptly vanished, leaving Spider-Man alone on the shattered pavement.

Did... Did that just happen? No. Couldn't have. Spider-Man pulled himself out of his Spider-Man-shaped crater and groaned.

By now, a small crowd of pedestrians had formed around the jewelry store.

“What was that?” they whispered amongst each other.

“Spider-Man lost.”

“He didn't lose. He got creamed.”

“He got smoked.”

“He got chewed up and spit back out.”

“I always thought the Web-Head was cool, but I guess he's really just a little punk.”

“It's not my fault!” Spidey yelled at the crowd. “One of those guys had portal-powers, and- and did you see the size of that bear?”

“Whatever you say, punk.”

Gah. Peter smashed his forehead against the keyboard. This was not happening. He had not just lost to the Legion of Losers. Ugh, he must have really been knocked off his game ever since Sandman died.

“Peter?” Peter glanced up from his Bugle computer to find Betty Brant standing beside him, looking concerned. “You haven't seen Ned anywhere, have you?”

“No, why?”

“He just...” Betty glanced away. “He stood me up last night, and now he hasn't shown up to work or returned my calls.”

Oh, so Ned Lee and Betty Brant were a thing now. Peter would've felt a pang of jealousy, except his attempt to ask Betty out had been more humiliating than his fight with the Legion of Losers.

“PARKER!” Without warning, the office door burst open and the Jolly One himself stormed into the newsroom. “WHAT IN THE SAM HILL HAPPENED TO THE DAILY BUGLE'S WEBSITE?”

Peter shrank under his glare. “I updated it like Robbie asked. It looked like something from the nineties.”

“I DESIGNED THAT WEBSITE MYSELF!”

“When, twenty years ago?”

“That's beside the point!”

“Here, I know what'll cheer you up.” He was digging his own grave here, but Peter retrieved a stack of photos from his backpack and handed them to Jameson.

The instant Jameson's eyes hit the picture, a diabolical grin spread over his face. “I love it. Looks like the furries got their revenge on the Wall-Crawler! Hmm, what do we got here? A bear, a monkey, a bunny, and a dalmatian. Beautiful!”

“This is so unfair.” Peter folded his arms. “Yeah, Spidey screwed up this time, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be made fun of. How many lives has he saved, exactly? Hasn't he earned a little respect?”

“Oh, please,” scoffed Jameson, “Spider-Man's never done a single heroic thing in his life.”

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah, he stops robbers and supervillains, but there's a reason he wears a brightly colored costume and cracks those stupid jokes of his.” Jameson made for his office. “It's all for attention. Well, if he wants attention, I'll give him attention.” The door slammed behind him.

Peter was seething. Any second now, he was gonna Hulk out and burst into Jameson's office like the Kool-Aid Man.

“Don't take it personally, Parker.” Mr. Robertson appeared behind him, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. “That's just how Jameson is.”

“Wow, that really speaks volumes,” spat Peter.

Mr. Robertson took a breath. “He has principles. They may not be principles everyone else agrees with, but they're principles.”

Peter exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Congratulations, Peter,” said Gwen. “You're officially the first person in human history to hate their boss.”

“I know, I know,” said Peter. “I'm not mad at Jameson. Not really. It's whoever keeps sending these supervillains after me. Something tells me they're not gonna stop at Scorpion and Hydro-Man. Marko was murdered because of them.”

A solemn silence filled the air. There was something surreal about talking so freely. This might be the longest conversation Peter had had without telling a lie since he was bitten.

“The poor man.” Gwen shut her eyes. “There's no body to bury, just sand. How many people out there are even going to notice or care that he's gone?”

“Marko was this close to making a real life for himself.” Peter put his hand over hers. “But… no use dwelling on it, I guess. Anyways, uh, how’d Harry take the news?”

That knocked the wind from Gwen’s sails. “He- He hasn’t heard yet. Harry almost relapsed last night. It’s not a good time.”

At this, Peter frowned. “But it will be a good time eventually, right?”

Those cold, dead eyes met the pavement.

“Yo, Parker!”

But before Gwen had a chance to open her mouth, the conversation was put on pause as a pair of students approached them – Rand and Sally.

“Rand! Why are you talkin' to the nerd herd?” Sally's voice could wrench a symbiote off its host. “You'll contaminate yourself!”

“Would you shut up a minute?” For once in his life, Rand actually scowled at his girlfriend. Whoa, the dude was usually so mellow. Guess there was a first time for everything.

Sally looked like she'd been slapped in the face, a mental image Peter dwelled on for longer than he'd like to admit. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever you...”

Rand turned back to Peter and Gwen. He grinned – another first for Midtown's most stoic student. “John's coming home.”

“John?” It took a second for the light bulb to click above Peter's head. “Jameson's son? He's leaving Ravencroft?”

“Yeah!” Rand punched Peter's arm. “My dad just called me. We're having a party at his apartment with cake and everything.”

Peter and Gwen traded glances.

“Sorry, Gwen.” Peter gave an apologetic smile. “We'll finish our talk later. There's cake to be eaten.”

Apparently, one of the perks of being an astronaut is a cushy apartment. Peter savored the gigantic living space – It was nicer than anywhere he'd be crashing for the rest of his life. And every inch of it was filled with people. Peter spotted Betty, Foswell, Mr. Robertson, Mrs. Jameson, and, of course, the picklepuss himself. Jameson was smiling, and it wasn't a smug, Spider-Man-schadenfreude smile, either. It was the genuine article. Talk about eerie.

At the head of the room, standing next to a decadent tower of cake, Rand was giving John his tightest bro-hug. John turned to the partgoers, grinning. “You know, I trained for a lot, and I mean a whole lot of situations, even got strapped into a centrifuge, but they never covered alien spores in space camp.” He held up his wineglass. “And I still beat 'em! The doctors say I'm completely normal! Well, as normal as I was before the spores, anyways.” The crowd chuckled politely.

“C'mere, John, give your old man a squeeze!” Jameson threw his arms around him. “Your mom and I got you a little present.” He reached into his pocket and tossed John some car keys.

“Mom, Dad, you didn't have to-”

“No arguments,” said Mrs. Jameson. “It's yours, and we're not letting you pay a cent.”

It was at this point that Gwen slipped away from the crowd, and Peter couldn't help but follow her out to the balcony.

“I got you some cake.” Peter set down a paper plate holding chocolatey goodness on the balcony ledge, but Gwen ignored it.

“Is that what happened to Eddie, too?” she asked softly. “Alien spores got his brain?”

“Gwen...” Peter glanced back inside the apartment. “I swear I'll tell you everything, but can we not have this conversation with a gazillion people in earshot?”

“Okay, okay.” Gwen shut her eyes, her cheeks filling with red. “Look, I promise you I'm going to break up with Harry.” She touched the bridge of her nose. “Just don't let anyone else steal you away before then.”

A goofy grin crept its way over Peter’s face. “Aww, darn, but I really had my eye on Doctor Octopus…”

Back inside the apartment, John was trying to see how much cake he could cram into his mouth at once. “You would not believe how sick I am of hospital food.”

“Now, John, I know a new Cadillac's not as nice as being a superhero,” said Jameson, “but it coulda been worse. Yeah, alien spores are bad, but, hey, at least you didn't turn into a rock monster like that one superhero, uh, whatchamacallit, that thing-”

“The Thing?”

“Yeah, I can’t remember his name, either, but you get the picture.”

“Don't worry, Dad.” Jameson glanced out the window. New York wasn't known for its starry skies, but at the very least, the full moon was out. “You never know. Maybe Colonel Jupiter will rise again someday.”

The full moon didn't quite extend to the ESU lab's windows. It was drowned out by artificial light.

“It's getting late.” Debra Whitman was hunched over a table examining some beakers when Dr. Warren came up behind her. He patted her back. “Don't you think you ought to be heading home, little lady?” Then he patted a bit lower.

Debra stayed silent, her face blank as always. After a moment, she gathered up her things and left. As soon as he was alone, Warren waltzed over to a cabinet and pulled out Connors's notes. Finally, he could do some real work.

The jump from reptiles to mammals had been simple enough, but now Warren was wondering what other corners of the animal kingdom he could cover. Diving right into birds might be too much. Best to start off small. Start with the flying mammals and work his way up.

Thump. Warren flinched. What was that? He was the only one here... wasn't he? Thump. Slowly, Warren made for the door. Thump.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”

No sooner had the words left Warren’s mouth than the door burst open, revealing a large, blond man in a navy blue suit.

“Miles Warren,” he said. “Octavius told me all about the ‘services’ you provided Kraven. Ock gets real talkative when he’s stuck in Ravencroft’s lunch line…”

“Can I help you?” Warren raised an eyebrow. At least there were no jungle cats this time.

“I want power,” said the newcomer. “Enough power to destroy Spider-Man! And you're going to give it to me.”

“Is that so?” said Warren. “And what incentive do I have?” He made a “greased palm” gesture.

The man reached into his coat for his checkbook, scribbled in it with a pen, then tore off a check and handed it to Warren.

Warren glanced at it. “That'll do.” He walked over to his work station and tossed the man a vial of orange liquid, which was attached in one of Connors's old injection devices. “Here, this will make you into one of those superpowered freaks that are all the rage with criminals these days.”

“Yes!” The man grinned to himself. “Power... It's all mine...”

“Don't bother trying to incriminate me if things go awry,” Warren told him. “I have friends in high places. They'll never trace this back to me. Now, if you'll write me another check, I'll give you the rest of the treatment. It'll take several days, but if you don't want to turn into a mindless animal-”

“Days? I want power NOW!” Before Warren had time to flinch, the man strapped the device to his shoulder and injected the serum straight into his arm.

Warren's face twitched the slightest amount. He drew his pistol, but by then, the intruder was already transforming. Darn. Warren was going to need a bigger gun.

Thwip.

Spidey didn't like web-slinging at night. It wasn't that it was too dark to see – City That Never Sleeps and all that – but given all the weirdos running around (himself included, admittedly), Spidey simply preferred being safe at home under his covers once the clock struck midnight. Well, maybe it was just conditioning from Aunt May's curfew. Tonight, Peter had called to let her know he might be getting home a little late. His excuse had been John Jameson's party, but in actuality, he'd cut out early so he could swing to ESU for a little investigation of Warren. He hadn't even bothered giving Gwen an excuse, but then, he guessed he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Spidey swung into the campus and landed on the lab's skylight. He peeked inside, then rubbed his eyes (or, well, the white parts of his mask) and did a double-take.

“Heyyyyy, wait a minute!” Spidey dropped inside the lab, landing between a terrified Dr. Warren and his new buddy. “Didn’t we already do the Halloween episode?”

Said buddy happened to be a bone-chilling Man-Wolf – a big, fuzzy, hulking kinda guy. Most of his clothing had been torn off, but his pants had miraculously survived intact.

The Man-Wolf didn’t seem too interested in the newcomer, though. Instead, he set his beady yellow eyes on Warren, who was huddled in the corner.

“Stay away!” Warren fired a couple rounds of his pistol. They were direct hits, but all they seemed to do make the beast angrier. The Man-Wolf lunged-

Thwip.

-and was yanked away by the tail. He yipped as Spider-Man swung him into a wall.

Spidey glared at Warren. “Next time, spring for the silver ones.” But before he could make another smark remark, his spider-sense tingled and he dodged another pounce from the Man-Wolf. Wolfie crashed through a window and dashed off through the moonlit campus. Spidey chased after him outside-

Spider-sense again.

-and found himself ducking a flying Cadillac. The car smashed into the pavement where Spider-Man had been standing a second ago. It now had more in common with a crushed can than a luxury vehicle. And that, apparently, had been enough distraction for the Man-Wolf to escape. Spider-Man would go after him, of course, but first things first…

“Hey, pal?” Spider-Man hopped back inside the window to peer at Warren. “I take it the Big Bad Wolf is yours? I always did peg you as the mad scientist type.”

“I didn't make him into that!” snapped Warren. “That maniac barged into my lab and injected himself with one of Connors's serums!”

“Why would Connors have left werewolf juice lying around?”

“The serum used gray wolf DNA. I was only studying it, seeing how it’d react to non-reptile DNA.”

Great. So even if the Connors had destroyed their own Lizard research, Warren had himself a copy. And from what the Connors had told Peter and Gwen, the whole “Lizard” thing was Warren’s number one bargaining chip in his quest to banish the Connors to Florida – which, incidentally, was another in the long list of reasons Peter suspected the guy.

But he couldn’t worry about that right now. Spider-Man darted to the other side of the lab.

Warren frowned. “What are you-?”

“Ta da!” Spidey returned with a big pile of test tubes in his arms, each one containing yellow liquid. “Gene cleanser! The quick and easy cure for the werewolf on the go.” Without further ado, he hopped to the windowsill. “Call the cops and warn them there's a monster loose on campus. Oh yeah, and do you have any clue who that guy was before he wolfed out? Might help me track him.”

Warren scratched his skeevy mustache. “Large, blond man in a blue suit?”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like anyone I-” It hit Spidey like a ton of bricks. “It couldn't be... I'd better go.” He pounced out the window without another word.

Sure enough, Spidey found his favorite wolf lurking around outside the apartment complex of one John Jameson, clawing at the door in a frantic attempt to get inside. Apparently, horrific wolf-creatures didn’t know how to work doors. Spidey also found his favorite picklepuss along with Mrs. Picklepuss huddling behind some cars in the parking lot.

“Hi, there,” he said, landing next to them. “What I miss?”

“Shh! Don't let it hear you, you idiot!” Jameson said in the loudest voice possible. “I knew you were responsible for this!”

“Hey, I'm strictly spiders-powers only,” said Spidey, holding up his hands innocently. “I couldn't turn people into werewolves if I tried.”

“What are you doing talking to us, anyways?” Jameson snorted. “Shouldn't you be fighting that thing? Aren't you supposed to be a hero?”

Oh, so now Jameson called him a hero. “Don't get your panties in a wad, picklepuss. I'm on it.”

Without further ado, Spidey hopped out into the center of the parking lot. The Man-Wolf had his back turned, apparently preoccupied trying to wrap his head around the whole “door” concept. Spidey put on his best British accent. “And here we have the rare giant-sized lemming, the most majestic of nature's creatures. The Spider-Man will try and catch its attention with the lemming's natural mating call.” he cupped his hands around his mouth. “AWOOO! AWOOO!”

The Man-Wolf spun around. He was foaming at the mouth.

“Hi.” Spider-Man retrieved another vial of gene cleanser from his utility belt. “Want to be friends?”

The Man-Wolf did not. Or at least, that's how Spider-Man interpreted his attempts to slice him to ribbons. Spidey sprung into the air, then webbed the Man-Wolf and shot back towards him, kicking Wolfie right in the spine. The Man-Wolf howled in pain, giving Spidey the perfect window to dump some yummy, yummy cleanser down his throat.

Wolfie yipped, then coughed, and, finally, began to shrink, looking distinctly less wolfish and more... Jamesoney. Good, good, the cleanser was working. It looked like it was the same deal as the Lizard, just to keep the trend of generic knock-off villains going.

“Ugh... Wha-?” Yep, it was John Jameson, alright. It sure was a good thing his pants had survived the journey from man to wolf and back. Spider-Man had seen enough horrors for one night.

“John!” The next second, Mr. and Mrs. Jameson were at John's side, throwing their arms around him. “What happened?”

“I... I don't know.” John brought his hand to his forehead. “I was just taking my new car for a test drive, and I got this craving for power. It felt like... like the spores.”

“Why, those rotten Ravencroft doctors!” Old Triple-J looked more feral than the Man-Wolf. “They said you were cured! I'm gonna give those quacks a piece of my mind!”

“And then, the next thing I knew, I tracked down that biogeneticist and demanded he give me superpowers.” John bowed his head. “What was I thinking?”

His mom kissed his cheek. “We'll get you more therapy, honey. And we'll be sure to keep a closer eye on you from now on.”

“We're not sending you back to Ravencroft, though, I can promise you that,” snorted Jameson. “By the way, where's your Cadillac?”

“Oh, look at the time!” Spidey fired a web-line towards a far-off building.

“Spider-Man, wait!”

Spidey turned back around to give Jameson a confused look (Well, Jameson couldn't really see it under the mask, but whatever).

“You- You can't tell anyone about this!” Jameson pleaded. “If people learn he turned himself into a freak, John's career is over.”

“Yeah, I know.” Spider-Man sighed. “The exact same thing happened to a friend of mine, which is... kinda weird, come to think of it. Trust me, I'm good at keeping secrets.”

“Th-Th-” Jameson struggled to make his mouth form the proper sounds. “Thank-”

“Don't hurt yourself,” said Spider-Man. “You're welcome. This’ll come as a shock to you, but I do heroic things all the time. Maybe think about that the next time you print your paper.”

“You don't tell me what to print in my paper!” For some strange reason, Jameson's lips were suddenly a lot looser. “It doesn't matter how many people you save, the bottom line is you're a masked vigilante who answers to no one but himself, and I will never encourage that behavior.”

Spider-Man was this close to swinging off, but he couldn't help himself. He spun around, yelling, “What was I supposed to do, stand around and twiddle my thumbs while your son howled at the moon?”

“I...” Jameson let out a long, heavy breath. “I don't know. We shouldn't have to rely on vigilantes to save us. Police officers, firemen, astronauts... those are the real heroes.”

“Look, I'm sorry I'm not officially government-sanctioned, okay? I'm doing the best I can! Gimme a friggin' break.”

And with that, Spidey swung off, leaving the Jameson family alone in the parking lot.

By the time Peter climbed into his bedroom window and pulled off his mask, he was ready to collapse onto his bed, costume and all. Peter threw himself onto his mattress. At least Aunt May had gone to sleep without waiting up for him, meaning Peter didn't have to explain why he was up so late past curfew. He'd swung all the way back to the ESU lab only to find Warren was long gone, and Peter hadn’t stuck around long enough to know if the guy had ever called the police or not. Peter just hadn’t had the patience after putting up with Jameson.

Robbie was right, Jameson stuck to his principles, but they were stupid principles. But then, really, didn't that apply to everyone? At one point in his life, Norman Osborn must have changed into his Green Goblin costume for the first time, stocked up on pumpkin bombs, and then looked in the mirror and said with complete sincerity, “Yes. This is the right thing to do.”

But then, if nobody ever questioned their principles, didn't that apply to Peter, too? What if Uncle Ben had been wrong? What if “with great power comes great responsibility” wasn't actually true? Peter rolled over under the covers... which is when he felt some vial-shaped lumps press against his leg. He still had some extra gene cleansers in his utility belt.

Peter groaned, then reluctantly crawled out of bed so he could web the cleansers to the spot beneath his desk. No, this wasn't a moment of weakness. He wasn't tempted to get rid of his powers or anything. It'd just be impractical to throw all this gene cleanser out, that was all. What if more crazy people drank Connors's serums? What if the symbiote found a new host and Peter needed a way to beat it again?

Purely strategic reasons. Yeah.

It was a school day. Uggggggggggghhhhhhhh. Peter's brain simply did not work on four hours of sleep. In a haze, he poured himself some OJ and sat down at the kitchen table to read the morning news. He nearly spat his juice all over it.

There was an apology. There was an article actually apologizing to Spider-Man. Saying that the Bugle's many accusations were inaccurate, and that the Web-Head was most likely not a criminal, but a misguided person trying to do the right thing. No way. That was the closest Peter could reasonably expect the Bugle to get to calling him a hero. It even mentioned that Spidey had saved John Jameson – leaving the details vague, of course. And the author was picklepuss himself!

This was impossible. Peter couldn't believe Jameson had really written this... on page forty-two. In four-point font.

Chapter Text

Harry awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up, panting, and peeled the covers off himself. He hadn't slept well last night. Or the night before that. Or the night before that.

Harry jolted. For a second, he thought he'd seen something scurry across the carpet like a spider or... or a robot. Smythe was watching. The monster was watching. There wasn't a doubt in Harry's mind now. His dad had been sick, a victim of the Green. Smythe was the monster. That “contingency video” could've been faked with Chameleon. Smythe would do anything to keep Harry in line. Smythe was the one who'd experimented on people! Harry and his dad were innocent!

A sudden bolt of pain made Harry clutch his stomach. He fought to keep his face blank. The future CEO of Oscorp didn't get ulcers. Norman Osborn had never gotten ulcers. Harry's head was pounding. Why wasn't he taking the Green? Harry couldn't think straight unless he was on the Green!

No. No, his therapist had told him about this. Harry's brain was trying to trick him. The Green didn't make his thoughts clearer, it... it... Gwen. Think of Gwen. Gwen was counting on Harry to stay clean. She was the one good thing in his life. She was going to be there for Harry to love him, to prove he wasn't a worthless failure.

Or at least... that's what Harry had thought before he overheard her conspiring with Peter. Harry hadn't been to school these last few days. She and Peter could be making out right this second. Of course Gwen would chose Peter over him. Everyone loved Peter Parker, the science whiz who got all A's without even trying, who Harry's dad would not shut up about, who... who...

Harry abruptly rose out of bed. You know what? He was going to school today.

“Mom?” A moment later, Harry entered the dining hall with his hair combed straight, wearing his nicest suit. The dining table was the length of a football field. At the far end of it, Harry's mother was reading the Daily Globe.

Harry bit his tongue. He wanted to warn her about Smythe and his threat to kill her, but who knew how many of those little robots the penthouse was crawling with? Smythe probably even had the security cameras and guards on his side. The monster had accounted for everything.

“I feel up to going to school,” Harry announced.

His mother failed to look up from her paper. “You can get a tutor any time you want,” she said. “Midtown Magnet's always been a crap school. Do you seriously only go there to see your friends?”

“Well, I... I... I'm gonna go. Bye.” Harry slinked out the door without another word.

Screw her. He didn't need her. She didn't care about him. No one cared about him. Harry slammed the keys into the ignition of his convertible. His convertible. Perfect Peter Parker could barely afford the clothes on his back – There was no way he was happier than Harry.

Something pounced into the passenger seat. Harry screamed and nearly swerved the car into the wall. It was a robot, hardly bigger than the tip of his thumb, with a camera mounted to its back. Harry had been right.

“What do you want from me?” Harry tried to swat it away... and promptly received an electric shock. The robot cocked its camera-turret “head,” looking at Harry like a cat that expects you to pet it right after biting you. Harry swore, then hit the gas. “Fine. You can stay. Spy on me all you want! I'm not even doing anything!”

The convertible screeched out the driveway. Harry wasn't doing anything wrong. He was the victim here. Anyone could see that.

Wearing a green t-shirt felt wrong, somehow. The blue shirt was Peter's trademark! It was as iconic as Gwen's headband or Jameson's Hitler mustache or- or the Osborns' stripey red hair. Still, Peter resigned himself to his green-shirted fate. Aunt May wouldn't hesitate to pinch him.

Hmm, let's see, what was on today's itinerary? They could go to the St. Patty's day parade, except after the last parade she'd been in, Gwen probably wouldn't be too eager for that. Sheesh, why did the big epic supervillains always wait until the holidays to attack? Had Peter had a single holiday since he'd been bitten that was actually, y'know, supervillain-free? He couldn't wait until next Christmas, when he'd no doubt be battling the evil overlord Doctor Doom.

Anyways, the plan was for Peter to go straight to Gwen's house as soon as he was done at the Bugle. By then, Gwen would have broken up with Harry, and then she and Peter would have a long, long, long, long, long talk about the whole Spider-Man thing. And then an even longer make out session.

“Harry! Hey, man.” The moment Peter spotted his bud by the entrance fountain, he hurried towards him. “Good to see you back on… campus.” The words dried up as he caught sight of Harry’s face. That couldn’t be good. Sure, Harry fit the St. Patty’s day criteria with that pale green sleeveless sweater he always wore, but Peter hoped he wasn’t taking the “green” rule too much to heart…

“What?” Looked like Peter had been gawking long enough to cheese Harry off.

“N-Nothing, Hare. You just seem kinda…” Peter tripped over his words a second. “Look, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest… I’ve, uh, learned lately that keeping secrets from your loved ones isn’t always the healthiest-”

“Oh, you and Gwen always want total transparency, don’t you?” Harry made a show of rolling his eyes. “At least, you want total transparency from me. But you two ever stop to consider that maybe sharing big secrets with a friend could really hurt ’em? Heh, what am I saying?” He chuckled to himself. “You guys are already well aware of that, aren’t you?”

Peter blinked. “Dude, I’ve got no idea what you’re-”

“Whatever, Pete.” Harry turned for the school entrance, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Go have all the fun you want with Gwen. Maybe you could take her with you while you snap pics of Spider-Man. That way you’ll have both your BFF’s in one convenient place-”

“Is that what this is about?” Peter had to fight back a groan. “For the millionth time, Harry, Spider-Man’s one of the good guys. I’m sure he’d have loved to help your dad if he hadn’t been hurling quite so many bombs at Spidey’s face-”

“Maybe it’s time you were honest with me?” In the blink of an eye, Harry was inside Peter’s personal bubble. “If you knew who Spider-Man was, would you tell me?”

Silence. Dead silence.

“Don’t you understand, Pete? What if someone tried to tell you the guy who killed your Uncle Ben wasn’t all that bad?”

Peter opened his mouth. No sound came out.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Harry slinked off without another word.

Peter could’ve gone after him. But then… he wouldn’t want to be late to class, would he?

Green. The halls of Midtown High were green, green, green. It was done more out of a sense of self-preservation than tradition. Flash and Kong were lurking the hallways with barely-contained glee, pinching anyone so much as wearing the wrong shade. For her own safety, Gwen had on a mint-colored jacket. Her salmon-colored headband had been replaced with a black one to keep her from looking like a watermelon.

They couldn't really discuss everything in-depth until after school, but Gwen was still anxious to see Peter. She was about to head outside to find him, but the instant she closed her locker, she found someone standing by her.

“Harry?” Gwen gave a start. “Are you okay? I hadn't heard from you since-”

“Since we kissed?” finished Harry. Something about the way he was staring at her unnerved Gwen, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the bags under his eyes. “I needed to see you.” He took a step closer.

“Harry...” And Gwen took a step back. Here we go. Deep breath. “We didn't kiss. You kissed me.”

This didn't exactly make Harry look any less unnerving. “What are you saying?”

“I need to be honest with you.” Gwen steadied herself. She could do this. Rip off the band-aid. “I was going to break up with you, but then your dad died. I thought it was a bad time, but... but pretending to like you out of pity isn't good for either of us.” Her eyes clamped shut. “I swear, I will always be there for you. This doesn't mean I care about your well-being any less. I just don't want to date you anymore. I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry?” Harry almost looked amused. “Yeah, I bet you are. Sorry you couldn't ditch me sooner so you could hook up with Peter.”

Gwen's face hardened. “Don't be like that.”

Harry let out an incredulous laugh. “You think I'm wrong? I heard you two! You were plotting your secret fling right after I told you I was the Green Goblin. Guess I know what your priorities are.”

Gwen gawked at him like he was diseased. “You eavesdropped on us?”

“Oh, like you've never done anything behind my back,” spat Harry. “Or any-one, in this case. Just couldn't keep your hands off Peter, could you?”

“Excuse me?” Gwen turned The Look up to maximum strength. “I've barely talked to Peter these last few weeks because I was trying to be fair to you.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So are you gonna go throw yourself on Pete right now, or will you wait a few minutes to be 'fair' to me?”

“Screw you.” Gwen turned to walk off down the hall. “You don't get to act like a jerk just because your dad died.”

The next thing she knew, Gwen was stumbling backwards into the lockers. Her face stung. Gwen stared at Harry, her mouth hanging open. She looked like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Harry raised another fist. “Don't talk about what you don't understand.”

Gwen winced and shut her eyes... and then opened them to find Harry's arm caught in mid-air. Mary Jane's fingernails were digging into Harry's wrist so hard, droplets of blood were trickling out.

“Get out.” Mary Jane released his hand. Harry swore at her, then ran for the nearby fire exit.

“What's going on?” By now, a crowd of students had formed. One of the teachers pushed through, but by the time he reached the head, Gwen had already bolted.

“You! Why aren't you in class?”

Harry ignored the traffic guard's protests, hopping into his convertible and jamming the keys in the ignition. He screeched out the parking lot. Harry's heart was racing so fast, he didn't even remember what was still in the passenger seat.

Smythe could hardly keep from chuckling to himself as he watched the video feed. Now this was quality reality television.

He brought a phone to his ear. “Alright, Osborn, looks like your little bundle of joy is making a bee-line for Oscorp Tower. Probably about to binge on Globulin Green.”

“I'll be right over,” said the voice on the other end.

“What are you gonna do, stop him?” asked Smythe.

“No. I'm going to give him the chance to be a man.”

Mary Jane found Gwen in the restroom – or at least, she assumed it was Gwen judging by the sniffling noises coming from the stall.

“Gwen?” MJ rapped on the stall door. “I can hear you in there. Not to be weird, but can I come in? Something tells me you're not actually using it.” When she received no response, Mary Jane kicked the door open.

Gwen was huddled in the corner, hugging her knees. Her backpack was lying beside her in a small puddle of who-knows-what (Contrary to popular belief, high school girls' restrooms are exactly as hellish as the boys'). At MJ’s entry, Gwen feebly raised her head.

“First things first-” Mary Jane sat down at her side. “-he's going to come back crying and begging and going on about how he's soooooo sorry.” She put a hand on Gwen's shoulder. “Don't fall for it. It's a trap.”

“M-MJ-” Gwen struggled to speak without her voice cracking. “First Eddie, now...”

“I'm sorry to tell you this, but those two are scum. I was right about Eddie, and I'm right about Harry. Stay away from him. Far away. Rule of thumb, anyone who punches you isn't your friend.”

“No, no, you d-don't understand.” Gwen buried her face. “He was on drugs. I was the only thing stopping him from-”

“You mean the football steroid thing?” Mary Jane's eyes widened. “Is that what he's been telling you? That if you don't date him, he'll do drugs again?” MJ called Harry a name, and it wasn't “Tiger.”

“He's right about me.” Gwen's breaths were growing ragged. “I screwed him over so I could get with Peter.”

“You are not blaming yourself.” Mary Jane gently tugged Gwen's hands out of her eyes. “Look at me, girlfriend. You acted like a totally normal human being. Harry's the one who threw a hissy fit. You're not his property – He's not entitled to you.”

“I just… didn't think he'd… he'd…”

“It's okay, Gwen.” Mary Jane leaned in for a hug. “Come on, Harry's nothing but a spoiled rich kid. You've faced down actual supervillains.”

Gwen gave a wry smile. “I cried in the bathroom after that, too.”

“Well, then, you're still a totally normal human being. Life can throw some real curveballs at you, but I promise…” Mary Jane smiled back. “…you might bend, but you'll never break.”

What had he done? What had he done? Was Harry losing his mind? Gwen was the most important person in his life. She was the one he loved. The only one he loved. Harry wasn't thinking straight. He needed the Green. Everything was so much clearer when he was on the Green.

Harry burst through the front doors of Oscorp and marched past the secretary without so much as sparing her a glance. Hardly even aware of himself, he boarded the elevator and mashed the button for the lab. Why was the elevator going so slowly? Couldn't it go any faster?

After an eternity, the doors swung open and Harry ran into the lab. His father's old lab. The Globulin Green was stacked on the wall – racks and racks full of vials. Why were they out in the open like that? Why hadn't Harry destroyed them? It must have been Smythe. Yes, Smythe was the monster. He'd left the Globulin Green out here on purpose, knowing full well Harry was too addicted to resist. This wasn't Harry's fault, it was Smythe's!

Harry retrieved a vial with trembling hands and uncorked it. The smell. The wonderful, chemical smell. Just a waft of it, and already he could feel the high. He brought the Green within inches of his lips.

Gwen.

He wanted Gwen. Gwen, the one person who'd noticed and cared when he was on the Green. If he acted now, maybe Harry could apologize. After all, Gwen couldn't really love Peter more than him. He could get her back. But if he got back on the Green... she might give up on him for good.

Green. Gwen. Green. Gwen. Green-

Harry screamed and threw the vial to the ground. The glass shattered, releasing a noxious fume. Harry screamed and screamed, smashing every last vial off the wall until he was left with nothing. Until he couldn't take the Green unless he lapped it up off the floor like a dog.

Panting, Harry smiled to himself. He'd done it. Now Gwen would want him back. Gwen would-

“I'm proud of you, son.”

Harry cried out and spun around. He couldn't believe his eyes. Standing in the doorway, wearing a crisp suit as if this was just another day of work, staring at Harry with those cold eyes was... was...

“Mom?” Harry took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

His mother gave him a smile, showing off her straight white teeth. She seemed perfectly calm and collected. The only thing out of the ordinary was her brunette hair, which wasn't quite as tidy as usual.

“I knew you could overcome it,” she said. “I knew you could be a man and not a worthless little junkie.”

“W-What?”

Suddenly, her hands were on his collar. “Don't get me wrong, I respect the initiative you took, but you never used any common sense. You don't drink Globulin Green, dear.”

Harry's feet left the ground. What the-? She was barely a head taller than him! How was she this strong?

“You inhale it.”

Harry sailed through the air and landed in a chamber in the corner of the room. He was so dazed, he was barely back on his feet before the doors slammed shut before him. They seemed to be made of a clear plastic – no matter how hard Hary pounded, they never gave way.

“Mom? I- I don't understand-”

“Don't be afraid, dear.” She smiled at him through the plastic. “Once you've become a man, you're going to help build Norman's future. You have purpose now.”

A hissing noise hit Harry's ears. He looked to his feet and found gas. Sickly green gas.

“Mom, stop it! Let me out! Let me-” Harry pounded and pounded on the door, shrieking at the top of his voice, but his mother only smiled wider.

“Hush, dear, it'll be alright. The chamber's airtight. You'll have to breath it in eventually.” She touched her palm to the plastic. “When you awake, you'll be stronger, smarter... All the upsides of the Green, none of the downsides.”

Harry couldn't hold his breath. His lungs were burning. He had no choice. He had to breath it. Had to...

“Well, actually, it does cause some interesting...” A big, toothy grin spread across his mother's face. “...personality defects.” Harry had never seen her smile so contorted. It looked like someone had cut the face off someone else and stuck it over hers.

But Harry only got a good look at her for a moment. After that, the gas was too thick to see anything. The last thing Harry heard before blacking out was laughter.

The first thing Harry heard upon waking up was laughter. His eyes shot open to find a goblin smiling at him. No, no, it was just one of the masks on the wall. He was back in the penthouse, lying slouched in an armchair. The instant Harry rose to his feet, the laughter hit his ears again.

Harry jerked his head around the room, searching... and then his eyes fell on the hall mirror. This time, a real goblin smiled at him. It had the same green mask, the same purple hood, the same beady yellow eyes. Every last detail was identical to his dad's costume.

“Well, looky there.” Green Goblin felt up his own chin. “Who's that handsome devil?” He laughed again.

Harry stumbled backwards. “No! I wasn't supposed to take the Green again!”

The Goblin only laughed harder. “Says who? Gwen? Yeah, because we all know the girl who pretended to like you out of pity has your best interests in mind.” You could see him roll his eyes under the mask. “Finally, your thoughts are clear! And the best part is, since you took the Green in gas form, no more blackouts for you! Not counting that little bout of asphyxiation, of course.” He stepped closer to the mirror. “And now that the fog's been lifted, you know just what you have to do. You have to cowboy up – You have to be ten times the man Norman Osborn ever was. But there are people holding you back.” He counted off on his fingers. “Hmm, let's see, there's Gwen, Peter, probably Smythe, and, oh yes, can't forget Spider-Man. Quite the laundry list, but nothing a couple pumpkin-bombs to the face can't fix.” He cackled to himself.

“No.” Harry slammed his fist against the glass. “I'm not a murderer. I'm not my dad. You're not real! You're only in my head!”

The Green Goblin brought a palm to his forehead. “Oh, poor dumb Harry.” He tapped the glass with a bony green finger. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've got it backwards. You're only in my head.”

“What?” Harry's eyes went wide. “No I'm n-”

And then the Green Goblin stopped imagining Harry, which caused him to disappear in a puff of smoke.

Chapter Text

Looked like Peter would be spending St. Patrick's Day hunting down the Legion of Losers. Great, now he was starting to miss the epic holiday supervillain attacks. Peter stared at the article at the top of the Daily Bugle's homepage. According to it, most of their success had been thanks to Spot. Apparently, the Legion of Losers had adopted the brilliant strategy of “portal in, grab valuables, portal out.”

But enough inner-monologing. Peter returned to work on the Bugle website. To be perfectly honest, he might have been doing kind of a rush-job, but he couldn't help it. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could see Gwen. He hadn't run into her at school today, oddly enough, but she'd texted him with the news that she'd finally broken up with Harry. So all in all, it looked like today was shaping up to be a pretty good-

“Jameson!” Mr. Robertson pounded on the office door. “I think we've got ourselves a new headline. I'm getting calls about a guy dressed as a goblin flying a glider around Roosevelt Island.”

“Another one?” came Jameson's voice from within. “Eh, maybe squeeze in something about it on page three.”

On a completely unrelated note, Peter hopped out of his seat. “Website's done! Gotta go!” He bolted for the elevator.

The office door creaked open, and a Hitler-mustachioed head stuck out. “Where's Parker off to in such a hurry?”

“I think he said he had a date with some girl,” said Mr. Robertson.

Jameson made a face. “Teenagers are disgusting.”

“You should see my son's girlfriend.”

There was indeed a guy dressed as a goblin flying a glider around Roosevelt Island. The problem was the buildings on Roosevelt Island were puny little things, not at all good for web-swinging. Spidey had had to hop on car hoods to get around like some sort of twisted Super Mario / GTA hybrid. Once he finally arrived in the goblin's flight path, he ran up a building to get a good look at the guy. Whoever this poser was, he definitely wasn't Norman or Menken. Dude could barely steer his glider straight. He looked like a house fly buzzing around in the air.

Thwip. The Goblin's obligatory gargoyle-themed glider was tethered by a strand of web.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” Spider-Man reeled in his catch. “GUI – Goblining Under the Influence. How many fingers am I holding up?” He sprang into the air. Crack. “That's right! Zero!”

Spidey managed to stay on the glider after the punch landed, but only thanks to his wall-crawling powers. The glider had started doing nonstop barrel rolls. Don't throw up in your mask, don't throw up in your mask, don't... Man, it was his eighth birthday at Coney Island all over again.

“Oh dear.” The Goblin inspected Spider-Man grimly. “Red and blue. Someone's earned a pinch!”

Spidey ducked a fingertip-laser blast. “I'm confused. Are you the new Green Goblin, or are you just Hobgoblin getting into the holiday spirit?”

“You don't recognize me? I'm hurt!” The Goblin made an exaggerated frowny face. “It's me, your old pal Green Goblin! I came back from the dead so we could have more fun!” He reached into his pouch and tossed a razor-blade pumpkin. Spidey dodged, obviously, but something seemed off. Gobbie had thrown it overhanded, like he was expecting it to make an arc.

“Hold up, were you trying to throw a bomb and you grabbed the wrong thing?” Spider-Man snickered. “Oh, yeah, you're totally Norman Os-”

Spider-sense. Spidey hopped off the glider just in time to dodge another finger-laser. He landed on a rooftop and spun around to find Gobbie flying off into the sunset.

“Alright, alright, you've figured it out, genius.” The Goblin turned back to leer at Spider-Man. “I'm not the genuine article. You'll have to settle for Goblin Jr. I was hoping to get some practice with the gear first, but now that you've reared your ugly head, I'll have to speed up my timetable.” He zoomed out of earshot. Spidey chased after him, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, but without any skyscrapers to swing from, the glider was way too fast for him.

Wait. Goblin Jr.? Peter's heart sank. It couldn't be... No, no, any idiot could've found Norman's spare costume. Green Goblin II could be anyone. Besides, right now the issue wasn't who was under the mask.

It was the fact that the Goblin was headed straight for Queens.

Gwen examined herself in the bathroom mirror. There wasn't a bruise, thank God. When he wasn't on the Green, Harry didn't have much in the way of upper body strength. It had been more surprising than painful. Gwen struggled to meet her reflection's eyes. Mary Jane must have thought she was a complete baby.

Still, a weight was lifted off Gwen's shoulders. There were no more obstacles. No more pretending to be just friends, no more being polite to Harry, no more Liz Allan throwing herself at Peter before Gwen could so much as open her mouth. Gwen checked her phone – nothing from Peter. She felt like a little girl wide awake on Christmas Eve. In another hour or so, when he came back from the Bugle, she and Peter would finally, finally be together.

She might not have realized it until seventh grade, but Gwen had always loved Peter. She'd had something with Peter she hadn't had with Eddie or Harry or anyone else on the planet. When she was with Peter, Gwen stopped being a stuttering wallflower and started being bold, witty, snarky... being herself. And also Peter was really, really, really cute. That might have been a contributing factor.

Well, Peter had been cute back when he was a scrawny little boy with Harry Potter glasses, but now he was cute cute. And Gwen had always assumed there was nothing under that baggy blue t-shirt but skin and bones, but Spider-Man clearly had a little something going on beneath his spandex.

Gwen caught herself before she started drooling. Being Spider-Man hadn't just changed the way she looked at Peter physically. Before, she'd thought he was a complete wimp, the kind of person who'd have gotten stuffed into lockers if Gwen, Harry, and Eddie hadn't had his back. Now she knew, for the last school year at least, that had all been an act. The time he'd dodged the first few water balloons but then suddenly gotten drenched? The time Connors had turned into the Lizard and Peter had run for the hills, only for Spider-Man to show up a minute later?

Honestly, Gwen was shocked Peter was that humble. He never even got any thanks – The Bugle ripped him a new one on a daily basis. What kind of person lived like that? Putting his life on the line day after day, ignoring wealth and fame?

Gwen dabbed on more makeup. She wished she'd been bitten by a genetically-altered spider. Look at her. She was the exact kind of spineless loser Peter was pretending to be. She bet he never had nightmares about supervillain attacks.

Thump. A noise from outside. Oh, maybe that was him? He'd probably forgotten to text that he was on the way. Gwen hurriedly straightened her hair. Be cool, be cool. She wasn't going to fangirl out. She was going to act like herself. This would be exactly the same as being friends, only with more holding hands and making out and heartfelt declarations of love.

Gwen scurried out the bathroom and into her bedroom on the second floor. “Hello?” She called out. “Peter?” No response. Odd. Maybe her dad was home early? Or maybe-?

The far wall exploded. “Lucy, I'm home!” Through the dust and green smoke, Gwen made out a familiar shape. His hideous laughter was barely audible over the sound of someone screaming – herself, Gwen realized. “And I'm all dressed up for our date!”

She immediately ran for the door, but the glider blocked her path in seconds. The windstorm from its jets sent books tumbling off shelves and the blankets flying off the bed.

“Aren't you excited, honey?” The Goblin grabbed her arm. Gwen struggled with all her might, but he had her in a vice grip. “I'm taking you on a tour of the city... from a bird's-eye view!”

Gwen used her free arm to punch the Green Goblin with all her might. It was an incredibly efficient way to break her hand.

The next instant, the whole world whooshed past her. Gwen was in the open air, holding onto the Goblin for dear life as Queens grew smaller and smaller. “You'll see all New York's most famous landmarks.” The Green Goblin flashed her a wide grin. “The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the cold hard asphalt...”

Ah, the suburbs of Queens. Another locale not known for its towering skyscrapers. Spider-Man wasn't halfway there when the Goblin suddenly zoomed over his head in the opposite direction, laughing like a maniac. And Gobbie wasn't the only passenger on the glider.

Peter's breath caught in his throat. No. No no no no no no no no no no. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Spidey did a one-eighty and bolted through the streets. Once he hit the Queensboro Bridge, he could finally get some decent swinging in, and once he reached Manhattan, he went at full speed. Spider-Man chased the Goblin past First Avenue, then Second, then Third... Gobbie finally stopped at Fifth Avenue. Oh look, they were right in time for the parade.

Humans and leprechauns alike broke formation and fled in panic as the glider came to a halt miles above their heads. Spider-Man, meanwhile, landed on a big four-leafed clover balloon directly across from where the glider was hovering. Now that he got a good look at her, Peter's fears were confirmed – the Goblin's hostage was Gwen, which meant it was Harry under that mask. The Goblin held out Gwen, letting her feet dangle over the open air. Looked like he was about to pull a “Venom,” only there weren't any spunky high schoolers ready to catch Gwen this time.

“Harry! Harry! Is that you? Listen to me!” Gwen was fighting to keep from screaming. “You can't let the Green control you! Remember your dad-”

“The Green's not controlling a thing,” cut in Harry. “It's opened my eyes. It's turned me into a man. Whereas you have done nothing but hold me back.”

“Harry, I-” Maybe it was only because of the biting winds, but Gwen's eyes were watering. “I'm sorry.”

Harry smirked at her. “Please, we all know how the Green Goblin feels about apologizing.” He opened his hands. “Whoops. Butterfingers.”

“Gwen!” Peter dived after her. Her screams filled his ears. Peter streamlined himself, making the tightest bullet-shape he could, but it was no good. Gwen was plummeting too fast. He had one chance. Had to use his webs.

“Peter! Peter!” He could see Gwen mouthing the words, but the sound was drowned out by the wind in his ears.

Peter held out his wrist... hovered his fingers over the trigger... Gwen held a hand towards him... and then Peter rammed his other fist into the web-shooter as hard as he could. Once the shooter was nice and crumpled, he fired.

KER-SPLOOSH. Gwen was engulfed in a glob of webbing, giving her a nice, bouncy landing on the street. Spidey landed next to her and dug her face out of the goop.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “A little sticky, but yeah.”

Back in the air, the Green Goblin gave an aside glance. “Ugh, what a cheap cop-out.”

But back on the ground, though, Spider-Man was a bit too busy crushing Gwen with his arms to notice. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry...”

“It’s not your fault,” Gwen murmured.

But the hug-session was ended by the hum of an approaching glider. “Getting a little handsy with the damsel there, aren’t you, Spider-Man? Shame on you! She could have a boyfriend for all you know. Or… actually…” The Goblin gave his pointy chin a scratch. “...maybe you do know that.”

“Give it a rest, Harry!” Spider-Man yelled. “You're not the Green Goblin – You're just a kid who got high on crazy juice. You've barely even had time to learn how to use all your gadgets! You think I can't take you?”

“Well, considering those four Ravencroft escapees kicked your butt-”

“THAT WAS A FLUKE.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” The Goblin held up a pumpkin bomb. “Thanks for webbing my dear Gwendolyn in place, by the way. I do so hate a moving target.”

“Then you'll LOVE me!” Out of nowhere, something smacked into the Goblin's glider, sending him spinning.

“Oh, this day keeps getting better and better.” Spidey, Gwen, and the handful of parade-goers too stupid to run all gazed up at the sky. There was now a second glider-riding goblin hovering across from the Green Goblin. An oranger, hob-ier goblin.

“Sorry, kid.” The Hobgoblin held up a pumpkin bomb of his own. “This town's not big enough for the both of us, and, frankly, you give the rest of us goblins a bad name.”

“There's more of you?” groaned Spider-Man. But he didn't have time to stand around whining. While the Green Goblin was distracted, Spidey ripped Gwen out of her web-cocoon. “Go! Now!”

Gwen hesitated for a moment, then kissed Peter through the mask before running off into the safety of the crowd. Good, good. Now Peter could breathe.

Spider-Man hopped onto a skyscraper directly beside the patch of sky the goblins were circling. “Hobgoblin, what are you doing here?” he called out. “Tryouts for the Legion of Losers were last week!”

“Sorry, Wall-Crawler, your death will have to wait until I take out this sorry excuse for a goblin.” Hobgoblin started to heave his pumpkin.

“Wait, wait!” The Green Goblin held out his hands. “I propose a temporary truce until we've taken down the Web-Head.”

Hobgoblin lowered his arm. “Hmm... A tempting offer...”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Spidey turned to the Hobgoblin. “Maybe I propose a temporary truce until we've taken down the Green Goblin?”

Green Goblin turned to Spider-Man. “How about you and I have a temporary truce until we've taken down the Hobgoblin?”

“Okay, now I'm confused,” said Spider-Man. “Anyone got a flow chart?”

“I have a better suggestion,” said Hobgoblin. “How about EVERYONE KILLS EVERYONE ELSE?”

Both Spidey and Green Goblin dodged a flood of pumpkin bombs.

“Works for me.” Green Goblin reached into his pouch.

“I hate you guys,” said Spider-Man.

“Well, maybe you'll like my GREEN GOO?” The Green Goblin hurled a canister at Spidey, who hopped off the skyscraper to dodge. The canister hit the window and exploded into slime.

“They're called Gob-webs!” Spider-Man did a backflip, kicked Harry in the face, then fired his one working webshooter and swung to another building. “Sheesh, Norman had way more style than you. Can't you at least speak in rhyme or something?”

Meanwhile, back on the ground, a big black dot formed in the middle of the crowd. “Beware, people of New York!” Out popped the Spot. “The Spider-Man Revenge Squad is here to ruin St. Patrick's-” That's when the Spot spotted the pair of supervillains hurling bombs every which way.

“John?” The Kangaroo stuck his head out the black dot. “What's going-?”

“Back in the portal! Back in the portal!”

Back in the air, the goblins were circling Spidey's spot on the wall. Oh, this was going to end well...

“I've had just about enough of both of you.” The Hobgoblin reached into his purse and retrieved a pumpkin bomb the size of a basketball – or an actual pumpkin, come to think of it. The thing was so huge, he needed both hands to heave it over his head. “I've been saving this one.”

“Oh, lookie here.” Green Goblin pulled out one of his own. “So have I.”

Hobgoblin rolled his eyes. “Copycat.”

“Hi pot, I’m kettle.”

“Ladies, ladies, please, can't you both just get along?”

Both goblin heads snapped towards Spider-Man.

The Green Goblin grinned. “If you insist.”

Both bombs went hurtling towards one tiny, spidery target.

“Allez-oop!” In the span of seconds, Spidey sprang into the air, webbed both bombs with one strand, and swung them into the center of the goblins. The bombs burst into green gas with an earsplitting shriek. Both gliders were sent spiraling out of control, crash-landing on the nearest rooftops and flinging their riders onto the pavement.

“Wow, you Norman-wannabees keep finding new and creative ways to utterly fail to impress me.” The moment he touched down on the roof, Spidey wasted no time webbing the unconscious Hobgoblin into a cocoon.

He went for the green one next, but it turned out the guy wasn’t down for the count yet. “I’m afraid you won’t be unmasking me this time, Spider-Man!” He stumbled backwards, firing some finger-laser warning shots.

“Why bother?” said Spidey, effortlessly dodging. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess you’re Harry Osborn.”

“Well, you’re hardly one to talk, Pete, old buddy, old pal.” The Green Goblin lobbed one last pumpkin bomb.

“Wow, that is, like, the least creative guess you could possibly make.” But a quick web detonated it in midair. “Wanna change it, or is that your final answer?”

“Please, a blind goblin could see how you were hugging Gwenny just now. And frankly, this twist is just too deliciously ironic not to be true.”

“Ooh, here’s some more evidence for you – Do these feel like Peter Parker’s knuckles?” Crack. One burst of spider-speed later, and the second Goblin was down for the count.

Over. It was over. Spider-Man stood hunched over on the roof a minute, hands on his knees, panting. Perfect. Now if he ever mentioned his former best friend who wanted to kill him for being Spider-Man, Peter would have to specify which one. That was… That was just sad, frankly.

“Alright, I'm pretty sure I know who 'Goblin Jr.' is.” Spider-Man walked over to the Hobgoblin. “But Donald Menken’s in Ryker's, so...” He tugged off the mask. “You?” Spidey nearly did a pratfall. The person wearing the Hobgoblin costume this time was a young, confused-looking Asian man. “Ned Lee?”

“Wh-What's going on...?” Ned lifted his head and looked around in a daze. “Where am I?”

Oh man, that's how Menken had acted right after being unmasked, too. Spidey had assumed it was just his lame excuse to plead innocent, but, come on, there's no way the dorky guy who hit on Betty Brant was a supervillain. Looked like someone was brainwashing people into being Hobgoblins. But who? And why?

The sound of police sirens hit Spider-Man's ears. He gave Ned a sympathetic wince. “I, uh, hope you've got a good lawyer, dude.”

A white-haired man leaned back in his desk chair. He wore a highly fashionable designer suit, and in his hand he clutched a perfume bottle. The man took a deep whiff.

“All wrong.” He handed it back to his terrified-looking secretary. “Start over from scratch.” The secretary obediently scurried off.

“Sir.” As soon as she left, another man in a suit entered the room. “Spider-Man apprehended both goblins – ours and the unidentified one. He left Ned Lee for the police, but he took off with the Green Goblin. We couldn't track him.”

The man at the desk shut his eyes and brought a hand to his temple. “When am I going to learn? If you want something done right...”

This wasn't the first time Harry had been left sprawled across his penthouse sofa in a Green Goblin costume. Peter couldn't help but feel sorry for him. First Harry was Green Goblin, then he wasn't, and then he was. Poor guy. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once Gwen dumped him and Harry relapsed on the Green, something in his drug-addled brain must have convinced him this was his destiny.

Maybe it was a little unfair to leave poor brainwashed Ned for the police and bring Harry back home, but on the other hand, Peter didn't know for a fact Ned had been brainwashed. For all he knew, Ned really was a bomb-throwing maniac. Best to leave that one to the legal system. Harry, on the other hand, had been in this situation before.

“Spider-Man.” Mrs. Osborn brought a hand to her eyes. “You've saved my son. I... I can't thank you enough.”

“Don’t mention it.” Spider-Man had perched himself on the back of the couch with his arms and legs folded like a frog’s. When he was in costume, standing normally felt kinda wrong. “But, uh, speaking of not mentioning things… Harry seemed to think his friend Peter Parker was- was me.”

Harry’s mom took this in silently.

“Guess he didn’t read the Bugle’s big front page article debunking all that.” Spidey hung his head. “But, uh, I feel really bad for the Parker kid, y’know? The media’s hounded him enough… It’s like if everyone thought Jimmy Olsen was Superman. So, err, pardon the alliteration, but I pity Peter Parker.” Spider-Man paused. “Man, I wish that experience had taught him to quit following me with that stupid camera, though. I swear, that kid’s such a loser. Err, don’t tell him I said that.”

Harry’s mom gave the faintest hint of a smile. “You don’t have to worry, Spider-Man. The truth is, Harry’s always envied Peter, so I can understand why he’d think that.”

“W-Well, Harry’s clearly had a break with reality, so...”

There was a solemn silence as the two of them watched Harry’s chest rise and fall. His mom had given him an anesthetic so he wouldn't hurt himself.

A heavy sigh escaped Mrs. Osborn’s lips. “Looks like it's back to Europe for more therapy from Dr. Hamilton.”

“Yeah, and try and keep a closer eye on him this time.” Spider-Man made for the window. “Any clue where Harry found the suit and the glider and the crazy juice?”

She shook her head. “Norman must have hidden a stash somewhere.”

“Yeah, probably. You might wanna give Oscorp a nice, thorough spring cleaning. Anyways, I'd better go.” Spidey fired a web towards the nearest building. “Take care of Harry.”

“Don't you worry,” Mrs. Osborn said, stroking her son's cheek. “I intend to.”

Chapter Text

With the goblins of both the Green and Hob variety taken care of, it was finally time for Peter and Gwen to have that long, long, long long, long talk and then make out.

“Alright, Peter.” Captain Stacy loomed behind Gwen, his hands on her shoulders, and gave Peter a look that made his blood run cold. “You owe my daughter and me an explanation.”

...Okay, Peter wasn't feeling too optimistic about the “making out” part happening.

He nosily swallowed his cold pizza (courtesy of the Stacy household's fridge). “Can't we just go back to that thing where you know my secret and I know you know my secret, but we both pretend we don't know we know?”

Gwen's dad folded his arms. “That bridge was crossed when one of your rogues gallery blew up the wall of my house.”

Gwen buried her face in her arm. “I'm gonna smell like peanut butter.”

“You kinda already do.” The remark earned him The Look. “Not that there's anything wrong with that!” Peter threw his hands up innocently. “I mean, it's better than cutting off your hair. When I was first making that stuff, I ended up smelling like peanut butter, like, always.”

“Hmm.” Gwen's dad leaned in to examine the mix of gray and brown goop in Gwen's hair. “I'd always thought your webs were organic.”

“Why does everybody think that?” Peter said under his breath. Aloud, he said, “No, no, it's an adhesive formula my dad was working on before the... y'know...” He faltered. “...the plane crash.”

“Must be expensive to make so much.”

“Like you wouldn't believe.” Peter took another look over Gwen. Even her jacket still had traces of webbing on it – though luckily, it’d would come right off in the washer. “I've got a version that dissolves after an hour, but that's for leisure-swinging only. I'm really paranoid I'm gonna web a crook upside down to a lamp post one day, and then the police will take over an hour to get there, and splat.”

Gwen's dad walked around the kitchen table to grab a slice from the box. “But besides the webs, your abilities are innate?”

“Yeah, I, uh...” Peter fidgeted in his seat. “I was bit by a spider, and it gave me spider-powers.”

Gwen's dad stared at him.

“That sounded less stupid in my head,” said Peter.

“Where did this spider... come from?” Something told Peter the man was only humoring him.

“It was a magic spider,” Peter said immediately. “Right before it died, it passed on its totem energy to-”

“You know what? I don't even want to know.” Gwen's dad pressed a palm to his forehead. “Fine, you got spider-powers, and then you decided to run around the city in your pajamas.”

Peter's face stiffened. “It's a wrestling costume.”

“Oh, is that why it’s so colorful?” spoke up Gwen.

“I like my costume!”

“All I said was it’s colorful-!”

“The wrestling, Peter,” came a third, sharper voice.

“Right, right. I, uh, tried to make some money at first-”

“-but then your uncle was murdered and you developed a vendetta against crime,” finished Gwen's dad. “I know, Peter. Walter Hardy was the first criminal Spider-Man ever caught. I put two and two together.”

Peter stayed silent, his eyes fixed firmly on his pizza slice.

“Does your aunt know about this?”

Peter shook his head. “I can't tell her. If she knew I was risking my life every day, all that stress topped with her heart problems...”

“And she'd probably try to make you stop, which you clearly have no intention of doing.” Gwen's dad met Peter's eyes. “Listen, Peter, I would tell you being a vigilante and fighting supervillains is insane and you're going to get yourself killed... if you weren't so good at it. There are more times than I'd like to admit when the NYPD was helpless against opponents Spider-Man took out with ease. I can't in good conscience encourage you to keep doing this, but I doubt there's anything I could do or say to get you to quit.”

Peter shrank in his seat. “And you're not going to tell on me?”

Gwen's dad shook his head. “If Spider-Man's identity got out, an army of supervillains would be at your doorstep waiting to kill your friends, your family... your girlfriend.” He shot Gwen a painfully unsubtle look. “All I can do is pray for the day when Spider-Man isn't needed. The police shouldn't have to rely on a child. It's like nature is pumping out superhumans faster than society can adapt to them.”

Peter's brow creased. “There's nothing natural about it. I don't know for a fact, but I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure Oscorp's behind all this. I mean, Norman didn't strike me as the most ethical guy ever even before he became a crazy supervillain.”

Gwen's dad nodded. “We'll launch an investigation.” He took a bite of pizza. “I take it everything the Bugle says about you is lies?”

“Oh yes.” Peter scowled. “Jameson lives in a special world where he's always exactly right and other viewpoints don't exist.”

“Then why don't you sell pictures to the Daily Globe instead?” asked Gwen.

“Oh, y'know, exclusive contract, better pay, and it throws off suspicion...”

“Wait.” A smirk crossed Gwen's face. “When the Bugle ran that piece on why you're not Spider-Man, wasn't their damning evidence the fact that Spider-Man wouldn't be stupid enough to dress as himself for Halloween?”

“Exactly.” Peter smirked back. “It was so stupid, it was smart.”

Just then, Captain Stacy patted his shoulder from behind. Peter nearly flinched. “This is umpteenth time you've saved my daughter's life. I owe you more than you can imagine. Gwen's the only family I have left.”

Peter looked to Gwen. “I thought you had relatives in England?”

She glanced away, the humor draining from her face. “On my mom's side. We haven't really seen them since she… yknow....”

Gwen's dad glanced away. "It's getting late. We need to find a hotel."

"You can stay with us," said Peter.

"We wouldn't want to impose-"

"No, no, Aunt May loves company."

Alright! Gwen was staying over! Maybe making out was on the table after all?

There came a rap on the bedroom door. “Peter! What did we say about hanky panky?”

“Aunt May!” Peter and Gwen hurriedly peeled themselves off each other, then scrambled to unlock the door.

Simultaneously, Gwen said, “We were only studying, Mrs. Parker!” and Peter said, “We were only doing the hanky without the panky!”

Gwen’s eyes snapped towards him.

“What?” said Peter.

“No more shenanigans, you two. I'm warning you now, I know about everything that goes on in this household.” Aunt May smiled and shook her head, then turned for the stairs.

“Yeah, Aunt May,” Peter called after her. “Nothing gets past you.”

Gwen snickered. “Peter.”

Peter re-locked his door. “Well, both our legal guardians have lectured us for being alone in a room together, which means by law, we're now officially dating.”

“This is crazy.” Gwen sat herself on Peter's bed. “It’s like I’m dating a rock star.”

“Yeah, just like a rock star.” A smirk crossed Peter’s lips. “Except for the money, the fame-”

“I’m serious. Everyone at school loves you!”

Peter laughed. “Last I checked, it was mostly just Flash. Which is worse than no one loving me.”

Didn’t seem like she’d heard him – Gwen’s eyes were glazed over. “Ooh, ooh, take me web-swinging!”

“What? No!”

“Come on!”

“It’s- It’s dangerous.” Peter glanced aside, then muttered, “You’ve been dropped to your death enough times already...”

“Peter...” Her hand was on his arm. Honestly, Peter had thought there’d be an initial period of awkwardness like he’d had with Liz, but it turned out he and Gwen had gotten used to the physical contact right away. “I promise you I’m alright. There wasn’t one second where I didn’t think you’d catch me.”

“W-Well, I’m glad you’re okay...” A sigh escaped Peter’s mouth. “Speaking of dangerous, we're lucky Aunt May didn't see you when you had web fluid all over your hair.” He sat down next to her and gave Gwen's shiny, clean hair a whiff. “Mmm, peanut butter.”

“Stop it!” Gwen blushed and jerked away, laughing.

“You know what?” Peter put an arm around her. “I've been dating you for, like, five minutes, and it's already so much better than dating Liz.”

“Darn straight.”

“I mean it,” said Peter. “I felt like garbage every minute I was with her. You can't believe how glad I am you found out I'm Spider-Man. For once in my life, I can actually be honest with someone.”

“I do appreciate the honesty.” Gwen smirked. “I never would have guessed you were bitten by a magical spider. But as long as we're being 'honest' with each other, I should probably tell you about my secret love affair with Norman Osborn.”

“Okay, okay, it wasn't really a magic spider-totem.” Peter rolled his eyes. “That'd be stupid. I'm pretty sure Connors made the spiders as part of his cross-species genetics experiments. I just didn't want to mention that to your dad because then, y'know, the next logical question would be, 'Why would Dr. Connors want to give humans the properties of animals?' and then, 'Say, did Dr. Connors ever mutate himself into a horrific lizard person, by any chance?'”

“So what you’re saying is, if I snuck a spider out of its enclosure the next time I’m at the lab and goaded it into biting me…?”

“...you’d probably get, like, a couple ounces more spider venom than I did, and you’d grow pincers or something.” Peter ruffled her hair, turning it a bit closer to how it used to look.

“You know, you still shouldn't have sold those Lizard pics to the Bugle,” said Gwen. “Being Spider-Man doesn't excuse that.”

Peter cringed. “I know, I know, I just... I needed the money, and sometimes that has a way of stopping you from seeing straight.”

“I forgive you.” A distant look overtook Gwen’s eyes. “Guess Eddie doesn’t, though...”

“It’s not his fault. Whatever that alien symbiote thing is, it feeds on negative emotions. Hate is its favorite food.” Peter took a breath. “Anyways, besides selling those pic, I haven't told anyone about the Lizard. I mean, you haven't either, right?”

Gwen fiddled with her nonexistent glasses again. “I told... my therapist.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Giant lizard monsters sounds like one of those things they have to break confidentiality for.”

Gwen went pale. “I left it vague. Didn't mention Connors by name. You're the one who put the Lizard's pictures in the paper! It's not like people didn't know there was a giant reptile running around.”

“It's okay, it's okay.” Peter squeezed her hand. “No one blames you for needing to tell a therapist. Pretty much everyone in New York could use some therapy nowadays. Just, uh, don't mention what I do in my free time, okay? Spider-Man's a suspected criminal. They'd have to report me.”

Gwen brought a palm to his cheek. “You could use one, too.”

Peter gave her a wry smile. “A therapist would be nice, but I'd rather have a phone and electricity.”

“Maybe my dad could-?”

“Sorry, the Parkers don't accept charity. Ben would be rolling in his grave.”

“That's right.” Gwen withdrew her hand, then shut her eyes. “Your uncle. Was my dad right? Is that why you're fighting crime?” Silence. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it-”

“No, Gwen, I...” There was a sharp intake of air. “I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore. Truth is...” Maybe he was a bit awkward about physical contact after all. “...part of the reason I didn’t tell you I was Spider-Man right away was because… Spider-Man did something horrible.”

Concern wrinkled Gwen’s brow.

“When I realized I had spider-powers, the first thing I wanted to do was call you and Harry and- and show off and stuff, but I was scared that if word got out, I’d be snatched up by a black helicopter or something… and then I found this ad for masked wrestling, and I thought I could make some money without showing my face, but the wrestling guy tricked me and he wouldn’t pay up, and then he got robbed, and I could’ve stopped the burglar, but I didn't because I was too busy being an angry teenager, and then that same burglar went and killed Uncle Ben for his stupid car. And if Aunt May ever learned that...”

The words came so fast. Peter had never said them aloud before, but he’d gone over them in his head more times than he could count. “So I guess my point is, your dad’s right in saying I wear a mask to protect my loved ones, but- but I also kinda wear it to protect myself.” Out of sheer curiosity, he looked up at Gwen.

She’d have passed for a wax sculpture.

Peter took a breath. “What happened to Uncle Ben is my fault, and… I’ve never told that to another human being before.” See, he’d excluded alien symbiotes, so that was technically true. “Ben had this saying – With great power, there must also come great responsibility. Pretty sure he was talking about puberty, but it applies to superheroes, too.”

One second, there was silence.

“God, Peter.” The next, Gwen’s arms were doing their best boa constrictor impression. “It’s okay… It’s okay… You made a mistake. That doesn't make it your job to fight every single bad guy in the world. You don’t have to do that to yourself-”

“No, you don't get it!” Peter wrenched himself free. “Even if that burglar hadn't just so happened to kill Uncle Ben, he'd have killed someone else, and I could've easily stopped him. Let's say I hang up the tights, and then one day I turn on the news to see that some random bystander was squished by the Rhino while I was at home eating Doritos – How am I supposed to live with myself?”

“But-”

“Your dad said it himself, Spider-Man can beat bad guys the police can’t. Don’t I have an obligation to-?”

He was cut off by incredulous laughter. “Obligation? You sound exactly like him-” Horror crossed Gwen’s eyes. “Oh my god, what if that’s, like, subconsciously the reason I’m into you?”

Peter managed a laugh. “Probably best not to dwell on that.”

Gwen laughed, too. Then, gently, she brought her palms to his cheeks. “Listen, Peter, I understand where you’re coming from. Better than most people, really. My dad feels the exact same way as you. So if you want to keep throwing yourself headfirst into danger… I’m not going to stop you.”

“If it's any consolation,” said Peter, “the most dangerous criminals at large right now are the Legion of Losers.”

“You mean the furries that kicked your butt?”

“...Yes.”

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing.” Her eyes met the floor. “Seriously, though, Peter, what you’re doing for people is- I mean, the number of lives you’ve saved...” She was at a loss for words. “You’re the best person ever.”

A smile forced itself on Peter’s mouth. “I don’t see how that could be true when you’re standing right here.”

Gwen made a noise between a bird’s coo and a baby’s gurgle. Peter got the impression it was involuntary. “I should warn you, Parker, I happen to be extremely vulnerable to mushy stuff.”

“Oh?” That smile on Peter’s mouth had grown a mite more devious. “Well, isn’t that useful information?”

Gwen laughed again, but then she fell silent. “So you’ve… you’ve seriously never told anyone about your uncle?”

Peter smiled. “No one but you.”

Gwen smiled back, but hers didn't quite reach her eyes. “Well, you don't have to be the only one with guilt on their shoulders. It's my fault Harry snapped. I tried to break up with him, and...” That smile had been on its last legs. “...it didn't go well. If I'd just been more patient with him-”

“Harry's a drug addict who guilt-tripped you into staying with him. That doesn't make you responsible for his- his-” Peter sighed. “I'm sorry, but that's a really stupid thing to feel guilty about.”

“Well, I think yours is a stupid thing to feel guilty about.” Gwen leaned in close. “How about this? I won't let myself drown in angst if you don't.”

“Sounds fair...” Peter leaned in, too. “Hey, Gwen?”

“Yeah?” she said, barely audible.

“Y’know how you said you like mushy stuff?”

“Yeah. What about i-?”

“I love you.”

Gwen’s laughter was intercut with a few sniffles. “W-Well, guess that’s about as mushy as you can get.” She hurriedly wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “This probably goes without saying at this point, but… I love you, too.”

Their lips were millimeters apart when a rapping came from the other side of the door. “That's enough for tonight, Casanova!”

“Aunt May!” The lovers promptly toppled over each other. “How do you DO that?”

“No, Ned would never have done something like this! Trust me, I've...” Betty Brant's cheeks reddened the slightest amount. “I've been to his apartment. He's a completely normal guy. He wouldn't even know where to get a goblin costume.”

“Thank you for your time, ma'am.” Sergeant Dewolff turned her attention to Jameson, who was slouched back in his chair. He seemed more interested in his cigar than the conversation at hand. “And do you have anything to add?”

“Last I heard from 'em, Lee was gonna investigate some shady perfume factory.”

Dewolff turned to her partner. “Sounds like Kingsley.”

Sergeant Carter snorted and made for the elevator. “You're grasping at straws. Why is it so hard to accept that this guy snapped, put on a costume, and started killing people?”

“How often does that actually happen?” scoffed Dewolff, following after him.

“It's not unheard of.”

“Maybe if his family was gunned down by mobsters or something...”

“I think it's ready.” Peter stood up from the chair at his workstation and proudly held out the fruit of their labors. Between his thumb and forefinger was a red, pea-sized doodad shaped like the logo on Spider-Man's back. “Our combined brainpower's expanding Spidey's arsenal. See, dating you's paying off already.”

“And these things really work?” Gwen was standing on the other side of the basement's table, which was piled with identical spider-shaped doodads. In her hands, Gwen held a modified GPS.

“Yeah, just flip the switch, and they emit a frequency that I can track with my powers.” Specifically, the tracers made Peter’s spider-sense tingle harder the closer he got to them, though Peter felt the spider-sense was a bit of an advanced topic to be getting into this early in the relationship. “If I found the one you hid in the toilet bowl, I think I can find these things anywhere in Manhattan.”

Peter set to work stowing the spider-tracers and switch away in his utility belt. The red ones were for sticking on bad guys, while the special blue one was to remain on the Web-Head’s person at all times. If Peter was idle for longer than half an hour anywhere besides at home, school, or work, it'd set off an alarm on Gwen's modified GPS, which would then broadcast his location to her. Though honestly, they'd made that one more out of Peter's desire to have a more “Batman-like” utility belt rather than any legitimate concerns for his safety.

“Peter!” Right on schedule, there was a rapping on the basement door. “I don't want you to be late to school because you were too busy gazing into your lover's eyes.”

“Coming, Aunt May!” Peter stuffed his costume into his backpack, then took Gwen's hand. “Hey, uh, how much longer till your house is fixed?”

“Well, after the Master Planner fiasco, my dad made sure to get some 'superhero insurance' from those Damage Control guys. They're rebuilding the wall pretty fast, all things considered.” She laughed. “Why? Anxious to get rid of me?”

“Nah, I'm just used to web-swinging to school, but I don't want to ditch you every morning. You know I love having you around to help with my superheroics.”

“Just don't expect me to sew up your costume.”

“Don't worry, I'm good. Not to brag, but I'm kind of an embroidery master.”

“Wow, it gets torn that much?”

“What? No, I could sew before the spider bite.”

“...Why?”

“I think I had this masochistic thing where I was looking for reasons for Flash to give me a wedgie.”

Smythe hummed to himself. It wasn't the loudest humming ever, yet it echoed around the walls of the abandoned police station above. It was deathly quiet in here. Currently, Smythe was lounging around the secret laboratory, rocking his hoverchair back and forth. One of these days, he really needed to install an MP3 player in this thing...

After approximately forever, the phone rang. Smythe answered it with more enthusiasm than he'd expected. “Hello?”

“Are you in position?” The sharp, metallic voice of Emily Osborn assaulted his ears.

“I've been in position for hours,” said Smythe. “Where have you been?”

“My son and I are boarding a flight out of the country.”

Smythe was glad this wasn't a video call. Mrs. Osborn probably wouldn't have appreciated the smugness on his face. “Because your son lost to Spider-Man?”

“Like I ever expected him to win. That was meant as a teaching experience.” For the briefest of moments, the metallic quality was replaced with something bouncier. “You're to continue producing super-mercenaries as normal. We have to be unrelenting – Spider-Man's bound to wear down eventually.”

“So do I have permission to go all-out against the Wall-Crawler, then?”

“As long as there's enough corpse left for Warren to work with, yes.” The phone call abruptly ended.

Smythe grinned from ear to ear. “Finally, we do things my way.” He knew exactly why the dozens of past supervillains had failed to kill Spider-Man – human error. Well, he wouldn't be having any of that. Smythe pressed a button on his armrest. A minute later, a swarm of robots scurried into the lab. These looked about the same as the ones he'd used to threaten Harry, only they had ten times the weaponry and were the size of horses.

Next, Smythe brought up some holographic displays of various web pages. Judging from all the social media sightings Smythe had been logging, Spider-Man was most frequently seen in the region from Midtown to the edge of Queens, and he chieflyoperated in very brief intervals of the day. He either had a job with long hours... or he was a high school student with an after-school job and a curfew.

“Hmm...” Smythe glanced at one of the video feeds, which displayed a black monster with a white spider logo on its chest. The video footage was being played backwards and forwards to look like the creature was dancing.

He'd given the matter a great deal of thought, and in the end, Smythe seriously doubted this Parker kid was Spider-Man.

“Spider-Slayers, go to Midtown Manhattan Magnet High School and kill Peter Parker.”

But it couldn't hurt to be thorough.

Chapter Text

This would become the stuff of Midtown legend for millennia to come. The day Puny Parker walked into class holding Studious Stacy's hand. The whole room was sent into an uproar of whispers.

“Eww, nerd love!” said Sally in the softest voice she was capable of (which was still audible from the other side of the school).

“Ha! They must really be getting desperate if they're hooking up with each other, am I right?” Kong leaned over in his desk to nudge Flash in the gut.

Flash opened his mouth, but then someone behind him cleared his throat. Sha Shan, Glory, and Rand were all giving their partners dry stares.

“It's, uh, whatever, man,” said Flash stiffly. “None of my business who Puny-” Sha Shan raised an eyebrow. “-I mean Regular, Non-Puny Parker wants to date.”

On the far side of the room, Mary Jane watched Peter and Gwen with a content smile. Across from her, Liz quietly snapped a pencil in half.

“…Well, I don't think the goblins, Man-Wolf, and Morbius are connected, but whoever sent Scorpion and Hydro-Man after me is still out there.” Peter shook his head. Currently, he was seated at one of Midtown High’s outdoor picnic tables, and Gwen was seated in a significantly closer proximity than usual. “But what am I supposed to do, go snooping around Oscorp tower in my bright red and blue spandex?”

“Are we sure it's Oscorp-related?” asked Gwen. “Don't we have any other suspects?”

“Well, Miles Warren is kind of a creep,” said Peter. “He says he didn't want to turn John into Man-Wolf, but I don't know if I believe him. And wasn't Warren recommended to the ESU lab by Norman? He could be in league with Oscorp.”

“I'm not sure.” Gwen's brow furrowed. “He seems like an alright person to me, but then, I wouldn't have pegged Norman as the Green Goblin type, eith-”

“Gwen.” Mid-sentence, Peter grabbed her arm. “Something's wrong.”

Her head spun his way. “What? How do you know?”

“My spider-sense is tingling.”

“Your what is what?”

“I've got precognition. It's one of my spider-powers.”

“That's not a spider-power!”

“It's- Look, that's not important. I might need to change into costume. Let me know when the danger happens so everyone's distracted-”

The schoolyard filled with screams.

“I think that's right now,” said Gwen.

“What's going on?” Every other student was fleeing in the same direction, so, naturally, Peter and Gwen ran the opposite way. What they found were half a dozen killer robots marching towards the school's front doors. Think the Mars Rover mixed with giant, mechanical crabs, only instead of pincers, they had buzzsaws and rocket launchers.

The instant Peter drew near, the camera-turret “head” of each robot shot towards him. His spider-sense blared louder than the school's fire alarms. “Oh poop.”

The next instant, he was tackling Gwen out of the way as a flood of missiles shot towards them. There was a deafening explosion, leaving the far wall in pieces. “Did it-?” Peter looked back, but thankfully no students seemed to have been injured. In fact, the robots were kind of ignoring them.

“I think they're after me.” Peter hissed. “Run!”

Gwen didn't need to be told twice. As soon as she was properly fleeing in terror, Peter ducked behind a back alley. A minute later, on a completely unrelated note, Spider-Man sprang out of a back alley to land in the center of the killer robot swarm.

“Aww man, robots? I had these hilarious quips planned, but they'd be wasted on you.” Spidey backflipped into a robot and rammed his legs through its hull. That seemed to sufficiently break it, so next up he hopped out, then ripped off its buzzsaw arm and hurled it into another bot. “Tsk, tsk, these things are fragile. Mysterio would not be impressed.”

Next up, Spidey webbed a robot and swung it into another one, causing both of them to explode in a sick fireball. The next robot got the bright idea to launch its rockets. In the span of seconds, Spider-Man bounced into the air, webbed the rockets, and returned them to the sender.

Only one robot left. Spider-Man wagged his hands in a “come at me, bro” gesture. The robot spun around, activated a jet in its underbelly, and took off into the air.

“Oh no, it's getting away,” said Spider-Man. “If only I had some way to follow it.”

Smythe watched the holographic monitor, muttering to himself. “Stupid mass production models…”

It was at this point that the last Spider-Slayer limped back into the secret lab. Smythe groaned as he hovered towards it. “At least you got away. Looks like I underestimated Spider-Man's strength. He must've been pulling his punches in all those videos I studied... Wait.” He leaned down to pull something off the Slayer. It was a tiny red spider-shaped doodad stuck to the robot's shell with a dab of webbing.

Smythe stared at it for a solid minute. “Bollocks.”

Wham. “'Bollocks,' he says!” The front door had quite literally been kicked down, allowed good old Spider-Man to spring into the lab. “I've always wanted to fight an evil Brit! Dude, you should totally team up with Montana. I would die to hear you two having a conversation-”

“Die?” Smythe spun his chair towards him. “That can be arranged.”

“Okay, I walked right into that one.” Spidey ducked the Spider-Slayer's buzzsaw, then punched it from beneath, smashing clear through the steel. “Hey, I gotta thank you for sending robots after me. It's not often I get to wail on someone without worrying about pesky little things like 'hospitals' and 'homicide.’” He drew into a fighting stance. “So I take it you're the one who sent Scorpion and Hydro-Man after me?”

“Bingo. And I take it you really are Peter Parker, then?” Smythe looked bemused. “Or at least you go to his school?”

“Oh, well, since you asked nicely, let me just tell you every last detail about my secret identity.” A thought struck Spider-Man. “Wait, so you weren't positive that Parker kid was me, but you sent robots after him anyways?”

Smythe shrugged. “What's a few extra dead children in the grand scheme of things?”

At this, Peter found his fist clenching. Perfect. So now, thanks to Venom the blabbermouth, Peter had put countless kids in danger just for having the misfortune of attending the same high school as him… just like he’d put everyone in the Daily Bugle in danger from the Rhino just because Peter hadn’t initially thought to have himself credited anonymously for his Spidey pics. Even with the mask on his face, Peter endangered the people he cared about just by putting them in the proximity of Spider-Man.

Time to clean up his mess. “I'm glad you said that. Now I won't feel bad about beating up a cripple.”

“Cripple?” Smythe chuckled to himself. “Is that what you think?”

Spidey brought his hands to his hips. “You're not just sitting in that sci-fi wheelchair for fun, are you?”

“No, my legs are like a pair of cinder blocks.” A sudden earnestness gripped Smythe's voice. “But I suppose I've never seen myself as a cripple. When I was first paralyzed, my dear old dad told me to think of it less like I was losing my legs...” He pressed a button on his armrest. “...and more like I was gaining the opportunity to turn myself into an indestructible cyborg.”

Before Spidey could so much as flinch, the hoverchair transformed. Its pieces unraveled and wrapped themselves around Smythe's body until every inch of him was metal-plated. For a moment, he remained hovering in the air, but then he slammed into the ground, forming a crater.... and pulled himself out of it on his own two legs.

"Dude," said Spider-Man, "my dad told me the same thing about puberty!"

“Single file, everyone! We need to do a roll call.”

Apparently, the school had decided robot attacks were about the equivalent of a fire drill. As soon as the swarm of bots were gone, students poured out of the building, herded into lines by their teachers. Gwen found herself led away by Professor Warren.

“Dude, c’mon, between this and the Venom thing, it’s so obvious!” Flash was saying to Kong in a delighted whisper from off to the side. “The robots are attacking because Spider-Man goes to our school. And I bet I know who he is!”

It took everything in Gwen’s power to keep her heart from bursting clean out her chest.

Flash leaned in to whisper, “It's Hobie Brown. It's always the quiet one. And, like, I keep catching him sneaking out during lunch, and one time I swear I saw him stuffing his costume in his backpack!”

Oh. False alarm. Gwen’s heart had almost burst for nothing.

Soon enough, the pair of meatheads scurried off to see if they could sneak away to the parking lot in all the confusion, meaning Gwen was alone on the school lawn. Well, okay, not alone – She was surrounded by fellow students. Just friendless.

“Are you okay?” Until a certain redhead threw her arms around her.

“Y-Yeah,” said a dazed Gwen. “I’m fine, Mary Jane. I don’t think the robots are attacking kids.”

At this, MJ drew back, looking as sheepish as the full-time fox was capable of. “I’m not talking about the killer robots, I’m talking about the killer goblin that blew up your house!”

“Oh.” Gwen shrank. “You know about that?”

Actually, it turned out Mary Jane was capable of looking a teeny bit more sheepish. “W-Well, the news said your house was attacked, and it also said that goblin guy abducted a blonde girl, and, y’know, I recognized that designer jacket I gave you.”

“I’m okay.” Gwen hugged her back. “That’s sweet of you to worry, though.” She let out a wry laugh. “Guess I can’t go twenty-four hours anymore without some crazy thing trying to kill me...”

“Hey, at least you got a heck of a consolation prize.” MJ gave Gwen’s arm a sudden punch. “Watching you and Tiger strut down the halls hand-in-hand was beyond cathartic.”

“Y-Yeah, guess I finally had enough near-death experiences to propel him into my arms...”

The remark, however, returned the frown to MJ’s face. “Why would the Green Goblin go out of his way to target you like that?”

“Oh, j-just because I’m the captain’s daughter, same as with the Doctor Octopus thing.” Gwen reply might have been a little too quick and a little too high because now MJ was giving her a look.

After a moment, though, MJ simply shrugged and said, “Guess you’ve got nothing to worry about, though. I’m noticing a trend of Spider-Man snatching you from danger. You could set your clock by how regularly Tiger swoops in to save you.”

A moment passed.

“You mean ‘Tiger’ as in Spider-Man, right? Not-?”

“Y-Yeah! It’s not like I’m only allowed to call one person ‘Tiger.’ It’s a nickname. That’s a thing I do. Nicknaming people.”

Another moment passed.

“I’m gonna go see if Lion is alright.” MJ wasted no time hurrying off through the crowd. “That’s my nickname for Glory. See? Normal thing I do for everyone!”

A mechanical monstrosity lurched towards our lovable hero.

“Well, you're awfully glib for a dead man.” The eyepieces on Smythe's helmet glowed yellow. “I hope you're not harboring the illusion that I'll go down as easily as those robots. I save all the best weaponry for myself. You could say I'm the Ultimate Spider-Slayer.”

“Ultimate? Hmm, not sure I like the sound of that. Why not try a better adjective, like, say, spectacu-?” Suddenly, a pair of turrets unfolded from Smythe's shoulders, and Spidey found himself dodging gunfire. “Ugh, when did my life become a bad Michael Bay movie?” Spider-Man pounced from one corner of the room to the next, a trail of bullets destroying every last desk, keyboard, and computer monitor in his wake. “And yes, I realize that was redundant.”

Thwip. Spidey webbed Smythe's eyes, then punched him in the chest. Unlike the regular Spider-Slayers, the Ultimate Slayer was barely dented.

“Nice try.” Smythe's eyes glowed even brighter, then fired a beam that melted the webs clean off. Spidey sprang up to the ceiling – which was good because the laser left a pretty big hole in the far wall.

“Laser-eyes, huh? Can't beat the classics.” Hmm, if this nut was too tough to crack, maybe Spider-Man could use his weight against him? “But I'm still not feeling 'Ultimate Spider-Slayer.'” Spidey kicked Smythe's legs out from underneath him, knocking him to the floor. Before he could get up, Spidey webbed him in place. “How ’bout 'Third-Rate Silvermane Knockoff?' Or is that too on the nose? Then how about-” Spider-Man raised his fist. “-murderer?”

He slammed it into Smythe's face. “That's for Flint Marko.”

“Wow, you must be a high schooler. No one else is that naïve.” Smythe was barely webbed down for a second before he ripped his way out. Jets erupted from his back and the bottom of his feet, launching him into the air. “Sandman was a lab accident, a random mistake that disrupted the balance of things, and so he had to die. Sound like any arachnid-themed boy scouts you know?”

His shoulder-turrets fired another found of bullets, but Spidey dodged with blinding speed. “I can do this all day, pal.”

“The only reason you're still alive is dumb luck!” spat Smythe. “You're not some master strategist – You're a stupid brat. Well, here's a reality check, kid – Maybe you found some clever way to beat the Rhino or Scorpion, but the instant I fire every explosive I've got at you, no amount of jumping around and cracking jokes will save you.” His shoulders unfolded to reveal even more missiles-launchers, while his palms began to glow, preparing to fire totally-not-Iron-Man's-repulsor-blasts.

Spider-Man reading his dodging muscles. The blast radius might have been too big, but if he could reach the door... Wait, that was weird. His spider-sense wasn't tingling very-

Clink, clank, clunk. A canister rolled into the lab through the broken doorframe. Oh, okay, now his sense was tingling. Bam. The canister exploded, filling the room with gas. Spidey was agile enough to run through the door, but apparently the ultimateness of the Ultimate Spider-Slayer didn't extend to agility. He toppled over, leaving his weapons safely inactive.

“Sorry for almost gassing you, Spider-Man.” Captain Stacy met Spidey in the hallway right as a SWAT team stormed past them.

“It's cool,” said Spider-Man. “What's a little tear gas between friends?”

“Tranquilizer gas, actually. It's our new procedure for dealing with supervillains.”

“Ah, taking some cues from my victory over Scorpion, are we?” A thought struck Spidey. “But aren't sedatives supposed to be taken in precise amounts? Aren't you worried about overdosing?”

“I'd rather rush a supervillain to the hospital than let him tear up the city.” Captain Stacy shook his head. “It's simple escalation. As the bad guys get more dangerous, so do we.”

“I guess so...”

“Smart of you to call me beforehand.” He gave the slightest smile. “I'd thought you were more the type to jump in all by yourself.”

Spider-Man smiled back. It wasn't really visible because of, y'know, the mask, but it was the thought that counted. “Well, I'm usually paranoid about the police tracking the call and figuring out my secret identity, but I guess something was different this time.” He glanced back at the lab, where the officers were busy wrenching an unconscious Smythe out of his armor. “You're lucky I went in first. This guy had, like, a wheelchair that turned into robot armor. You'd have been caught totally off guard, but I've got spider-sense, so I was good.”

“After the one in the rhino suit, nothing surprises me anymore.”

The instant Peter opened the front door, he was tackled with a hug.

“Oh, Peter, I was so worried-!”

“I’m alright, Aunt May. Sorry, I’d have gotten home sooner, but I was taking pictures of the school’s wreckage...”

Aunt May shook her head. “First rhinoceros-people, now killer robots? Manhattan’s turning into a pulp magazine...”

As the hug ended, Peter glanced around the room. “Where are Gwen and her dad?”

“They went back home.”

“Already? Man, those Damage Control guys work fast.”

A smirk crossed May’s lips. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re eager to see more of Gwen?”

“Well, I, uh, wouldn’t object to it.” Peter drew back, blushing.

The smirk morphed into something more sincere. “She’s a special girl.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I like her.”

It was Peter’s turn to smirk. “What a coincidence, so do I.”

“Considerably more than Liz Allan, truth be told.” May turned away, but not before glancing over her shoulder to add, “You know, your parents met in high school...”

“Yeah, I know.”

And with that, May retired to her room for her afternoon nap, leaving Peter with only the muted TV for company. He flopped over on the couch, grinning like a lunatic.

The grin was, however, soon besmirched by a yawn. Peter could use an afternoon nap, himself. Truth be told, even Peter’s decisive victories left him kinda stressed.

But then he checked his phone, and he remembered the amazing new stress relief method at his disposal. The reminder, in this case, being a text prompting him to call as soon as possible. Peter double-checked that Aunt May’s bedroom door was shut, then brought his cell to his ear. He had to fight back the urge to retch, though. Peter's last phone had been smashed by an unholy spider-creature, so now he was forced to use that Osberry Norman had given him. Gross.

“Peter-?”

“Yes, hello, is this the gorgeous babe who gave me her number?”

“This is she.” He was met with giggles from the speaker. The just-started-dating euphoria was far from wearing off. It was like there’d been a wall between them all these years, and Peter hadn’t even known it until it’d suddenly collapsed. “I take it the robots didn’t kill you?”

“As if.” More giggles. “But they, uh, didn’t hurt any students, did they?”

“Not as far as I know. We're getting out of school for the rest of the week, though.”

“At least something good came of this.” Peter was back to grinning. “Looks like Warren was innocent after all. This dude named Smythe confessed to being the mastermind behind Scorpion and Hydro-Man, and it wouldn't be a stretch to think he made a good chunk of my original rogues gallery, too.”

“So no more supervillains to worry about?”

“Well, I don’t wanna jinx myself, but here’s hoping...” Peter shook his head, “Gee, though, a whole week with no school and no supervillains? How will we pass the time?”

More giggles. “W-Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to… picking up where we left off yesterday.” But then the giggling came to an end. “I mean, I know I’m not as good at the whole m-making out thing as Liz. Haven’t exactly had as much practice as her...”

Whuh? Why did Gwen sound mopey all of a sudden? Had Peter done something wrong? “It’s not rocket science. You were- You were great.” No response. “I meant what I said before, Gwen. Dating Liz felt horrible. There’s no other way to put it. I was kind of in denial back then, but being with her made me feel so… guilty. And not just because I was keeping my double life from her.”

“I... felt the same way about Harry.” Finally, he’d goaded a reply from her. “So I guess we both screwed up in that department. Not gonna pretend I wasn’t devastated at the time, but, well, in hindsight, I did just randomly kiss you on Thanksgiving and run away and- and then avoided you, and I didn’t even make an effort to look nice until I got with Harry and, y’know-” Her words were gaining speed. “-his dad made some snippy comment, and I got all worked up like I always do, and I had to swallow my pride and go beg MJ to give me a makeover-”

“Wait, what?”

“-so my- my point is, I don’t blame you for initially going for the cheerleader with the perfect hair and boobs.”

“But that’s not- You’re-” Peter was almost at a loss for words. This was the same girl who’d stood up to the Lizard and- and Flash Thompson’s water balloon barrage. Peter knew she’d said she was seeing a therapist, but still, where had all that confidence gone? In the old days, Peter had never even considered that Gwen might be anything but the snarky science girl.

Peter continued tripping over his tongue for a second before finally blurting out, “Gwen, your boobs are fine.” At least over the phone, neither of them could gauge the color of the other’s cheeks. Small mercies. “I mean, more than fine. Better than Liz’s. Or- Or I imagine they are because I have no idea what Liz’s look like. I’m not being coy – I mean that. Liz and I never-”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve ever seen mine, eith- Oh my god, I am talking about my boobs with you. This can’t be real.” Okay, maybe Peter couldn’t see the color of Gwen’s cheeks, but he could make a darn good educated guess.

“Yeah, funny, we’ve been best friends for years, and I don’t think this has ever been a conversation topic before.” Geez, dating Gwen had already proven itself to be the polar opposite of dating Liz. If anything, Liz had been quite the braggart about hers.

“We’re lucky my dad’s still at work. If you think your rogues gallery is dangerous, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Wait.” Peter blinked. “You’re alone right now?”

The reply took a moment. “Um, y-yeah. That kinda ends up happening a lot, what with Dad always busy.”

“Oh, well, hey, at least you got me to keep you company now.” Peter took a breath. “And Aunt May’s taking a nap, so I’m actually alone right now, too.”

“I should hope you are, talking about my boobs like that...”

“And, uh, Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

“Just to be clear, I don’t care how you dress or whatever. If this makeover isn’t you, y’know, you don’t have to worry about it. Look however you want to look.”

He caught a sharp intake of breath from the phone’s other end. “That’s sweet of you, Peter, but come on, I was basically invisible to you until Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s not true.” Peter’s voice went tighter than he’d intended. “In fact, I actually miss your glasses. Whatever happened to those?”

Silence. “You mean it? You’re not just trying to make me feel better?”

“Well, I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” Peter managed a laugh. “I mean, I wear the same blue t-shirt every day of my life. Since when do I care about appearance, right?”

“Thanks, b… babe? Honey? Ugh, every pet name sounds weird...” There was a bitter laugh. “I bet you never said these kinda pep talks to Liz, though.”

“Maybe not.” As he spoke, Peter sat up on the sofa. “But you know something else I never said to her?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

The giggles made their triumphant return. “You honestly have no idea how happy you make me.”

“Right back at ya. But, hey, Gwen? You don’t have to always compare yourself to Liz. That stuff’s ancient history, okay?” Peter paused. “You’ve got nothing to worry about from my ex.”

Cold. Cold. It was cold.

It slinked through the dank tunnels, feeling, searching... It didn't know how long it had been down here. Long enough for the sickness to grow. It needed... needed... to feed.

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. A little creature scurried towards it down the tunnel. It had never seen such a creature before, but both of its old hosts had. The memories instantly jumped to the forefront of its mind – rat. This thing was a rat.

The rat stopped at the edge of the puddle and gave the slime a curious sniff.

Splurch. It was instantly enveloped. The rat thrashed and shrieked, but it was soon encased completely.

No, no, this wouldn't do. The rat's mind was too simplistic. There was nothing in here but primordial fear. Where was the anger? Where was the hatred?

A pair of white splotches formed in the inky black ooze... followed by a set of solid fangs. A pink tongue wrapped itself around the rodent's flailing body.

The emotions tasted all wrong, but luckily, the rat could feed it in a different way.

E nd of Lesson 1

Chapter Text

Lesson 2: Mathematics 101

“Please, Aunt A! I swear I’ll be on my best behavior!” Mary Jane virtually cornered her aunt before the front door, blocking all escape.

“Oh, Mary Jane...” Aunt Anna’s eyes fell on the bag of luggage in her own hand. It was no doubt considerably easier to look at than MJ’s face right now. “You know how badly I want to say yes… but you made me the exact same promise last time, and it didn’t stop you from throwing one of those awful parties here.”

“M-My friends from my last school were bad influences on me!” MJ remained firmly planted despite Anna’s attempts to push past her. “I would never do that to you again.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then, to MJ’s surprise, her aunt did look her in the eyes. Turned out Anna’s face was considerably less warm than usual. “I’m sorry, but… you need to go home.”

After that, MJ trudged onto the front porch, allowing her aunt to lock the door behind them. Mary Jane watched Aunt Anna enter her car, then drive down the streets of Forest Hills and out of sight.

A rush of air escaped MJ’s mouth as she leaned against the porch railing. She hugged herself, helpless as the March breeze washed over her. MJ had on a black jacket, actually, but its primary function was to look fabulous and expensive, with cold-protection being a distant second.

Mary Jane’s eyes fell on her aunt’s front yard. The flowers that weren’t dead, the grass that’d been mowed sometime this century… Guess MJ would have to savor that while she still could.

“Yeah,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “Home. I’ll head straight there.”

“Do not approach walls or door, or tranquilizing gas will be released to immobilize Allan, comma, Mark.”

A chorus of “WE KNOW!” rang out from the adjacent cells. An awful rhinoceros-person and an awful scorpion-person shot envious glares at the cell between them. The door whirred open, and the man inside was led out at gunpoint by a small army of guards. There was no animal-themed armor on this one. Instead, his skin appeared to be solid gold. The only clothing he wore was charred scraps of cloth that might have once been an orange prison jumpsuit.

Mark gave them a questioning look.

“Visitation.” The head guard shoved a barrel in his face. It reeked of the chemical stench of tranq gas. “This is a privilege for good behavior, freak. Try anything and you'll never leave that cell again.”

Mark's only reply was a grunt.

The guards led him down the winding halls until they reached a room at the far edge of the Vault. Like every room in here, it was lined with reinforced steel, and the window was no doubt equally indestructible, courtesy of Oscorp craftsmanship. Mark seated himself in a chair, then reached for the phone on the wall. After a tense couple seconds in which it didn't melt, he brought it to his ear.

“Hey, big guy.” If there was one thing that could’ve made him roar to life, it’d be the head of red hair waiting for him on the other side of the glass. “Miss me?”

“Mary Jane?” Mark sprang to his feet, an act which caused the ground to shake. “You… You really wanted to see me like this?”

MJ managed a smile. “Well, it’s not the look I’d have picked out for you…”

A huff escaped Mark’s golden mouth. “I take it they still haven’t found the Goblin’s switch?”

Mary Jane shook her head. “The news said this was probably a different guy in the same costume.”

“Figures. You know, I think the real Goblin left my armor turned on just for kicks.” Mark gave a dry laugh. “Then the creep had to go and blow himself up. Least I finally burned out a couple days ago, so I’m not spewing fire anymore.”

MJ’s face lit up. “So they're moving you to the normal cells?”

“They can't. I've still got super strength. I could bust out.”

“Are they at least any closer to fixing you?”

“I bet.” Mark let out a huff. “It's a lot easier to just lock me up and throw away the key, but yeah, I'm sure they've got their brightest minds working on that cure.”

Mary Jane brought her fingers to the glass. “Don't talk like that.”

“Sorry.” Mark's own fingers strummed against the countertop. There was a clink, clink, clink of metal hitting metal. “I-I’m glad you came here, MJ. Truth is, I did miss you. More than anything.”

MJ gave a nod. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“I mean, I’ve never met a girl like you before,” said Mark. “One who’s so free… doesn’t sweat the details...”

But at this, MJ laughed. “Funny how that worked out. We were s’posed to be the couple who sidestepped all the love drama, so of course we got swept up in about the most intense drama there could be.” Her fingers traveled to her scalp. “God, the only thing I wanted in the whole world was to share an apartment with a chill boyfriend. If this modeling gig takes off, I’ll even have the cash for it. I just wanted one stupid, simple thing...”

“I’m sorry.” Mark leaned forward. His posture had to show the path of his gaze for him now that his pupils were covered in yellow plasma. “I know I haven’t exactly excelled at being ‘chill.’ Uh, pun not intended.” He titled his head to show he was glancing away. “Can’t believe I let myself get turned into this.”

“I wouldn’t even hold that against you if you could just go back to normal.” All MJ had to do to show she was glancing away was point with her eyes. “My aunt’s taking another trip to New Hampshire. And you know what that means...”

“Nowhere left for you to escape to.” A steam cloud escaped Mark’s mouth. “MJ, I swear if I could get out of here, I’d make a home for you. For us. But at this point, I’m not holding my breath.”

“But- But they can’t keep you here forever!” MJ fumbled for words. “What about that- that one-armed scientist guy? My friend Gwen said he was working on a cure for Electric-Man or whoever. Maybe he could-?”

“Don’t you get it?” Mark shot her a sullen look. “I can feel the heat building back up inside me. I’m never getting out.”

“Mark, please, I don’t want us to spend all of visitation drowning in misery-”

“Oh yeah?” He huffed. “Well, you’ll be happy to know we’ll have even less time for that from now on. They’re not gonna let you see me if I start spitting fire again. It’s too big a liability to the prison.”

“I’ll write to you, then,” MJ said tightly.

But Mark merely hung his head. “MJ… stop. Just stop.” He took a breath, sending a cloud of steam into the air. “You shouldn’t have to keep suffering because of my stupid mistake.”

“What are you saying? Of course I-”

“I’m saying I’m dumping you.”

“Oh.” Mary Jane’s eyes widened a moment, then traveled to the visitation room’s tile floor. “Huh. So that’s what that feels like...”

It didn't know how long it'd spent in the darkness. Days? Weeks? The tunnel seemed endless, and for every five feet the symbiote crawled, streams of filthy water always seemed to knock it back six. But fortunately, there were plenty more rats down here.

Eventually, the symbiote gained the strength to reach the sewer's mouth. The way the light emanated from it, it almost looked like the manhole cover led out to heaven itself instead of a grimy city street. With the last reserves of its energy, the symbiote pulled itself onto the concrete.

It shouldn't have been this weak. Something was wrong. The sickness was still growing. The symbiote could sense it in every fiber of its being. It was the... the cleanser. The memory burned in the symbiote's mind as brightly as if it'd happened yesterday. Venom had had their enemy right where they'd wanted him, and then... Spider-Man had cheated death. They were supposed to be poison to him, not the other way around!

Host... It needed a... host...

A woman happened to be passing by on the sidewalk. With a scream, she tripped and toppled over – She hadn't expected a black tendril to wrap around her ankle. Though its entire being ached with sickness, the symbiote managed to slither its way onto her face, seeping pieces of itself through her pores and into her brain.

It immediately became clear that this host wouldn't do. She was just some nobody. Her unfulfilled desire for a family was causing the woman some pain, but that caused her depression, not hatred. Nothing to feed off of. What this temporary host did have, however, was memories. She'd watched the news, and even if she'd only half-payed attention, a story about a black monster attacking a high school has a way of sticking with you. Hmm... She didn't remember where Brock had gone after being carted off, though.

On the plus side, the woman had an exceptionally weak will. After only a slight amount of struggling, the symbiote had total control. Not a single passerby batted an eyelash as the woman pulled herself to her feet. As far as anyone had seen, she'd simply tripped and then taken a minute to right herself. It wasn't like anyone was paying enough attention to notice her jacket was suddenly pitch black.

The symbiote's whole body lurched, sending a ripple through the “clothing.” It just barely managed to keep from puking rats all over the pavement. There... There wasn't much time left. The old hosts' memories drifted through its mind. The gene cleanser killed all non-human DNA, Peter had said. Like the noise filter on a cell phone.

But the symbiote hadn't come from this world. It was nothing but non-human DNA.

Mary Jane’s eyes were still trapped on the floor by the end of school the next day.

“Why do I have the urge to down a whole tub of ice cream? Is that normal?” MJ managed to raise her head long enough to give Gwen a quizzical look.

“I mean, I definitely gained a few pounds the day Peter hooked up with Liz...” Gwen smiled back, though it failed to reach her eyes. The girls were walking parallel out of the classroom, as per tradition. “I’m really sorry, MJ. I know how hard you tried to make things work with Mark.”

MJ held out a palm. “Hey, don’t sweat it, girlfriend. You know me. Mary Jane Watson and angst are like oil and water. Trust me, I’ll bounce back from this twice as fun as I was before.”

“I’m glad you’re taking it well,” said Gwen. “Not to be callous, but I’m honestly really relieved Mark dumped you. Now I don’t have to worry about him burning you to death when you kiss...”

“I mean, sure, things got kinda serious between us, but it’s not like Mark’s ‘the only man I’ll ever love,’” MJ said with finger quotes. “Why should I even chain myself down like that, right? I’m sure there are tons of chill, fun-loving guys waiting for me out there. And some fun-loving gals, too, but a lot less, statistically speaking-” She stopped herself when she caught sight of Gwen’s face. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… you and Mark have barely been broken up twenty-four hours.” Gwen brought a hand to her shoulder. “Try not to bounce back too fast, okay?”

But MJ shrugged it off. “I can’t help it if I’m bouncy.”

“Yeah, well, I of all people know how badly rebounds can-”

“Oh, Gwen, there you are!” It was at this moment that Peter crossed their paths in the hall of the freshly-repaired school building. He hurried over to the girls, balancing his backpack over his shoulder with one hand while the other remained trapped in his splint. “Thank god. I’ve got a boatload of trig due tomorrow, and my handwriting’s bad enough with my dominant hand...”

Gwen ran to his side, kissed him for as long as she dared in the middle of a school building, then said, “What, you need me to be your personal scribe?”

“I was thinking more like a maidservant-”

“Do you want those wounds to get worse?”

“No, ma’am...”

The two of them carried on like that as they vanished around the corner. Mary Jane watched them, frozen in place, until they were out of sight.

Even once she was alone in the hall, MJ remained frozen. God, those two were cute together. Hooking them up had been the greatest accomplishment of Mary Jane’s life. That’s why MJ was standing here now with a vacant look on her face. She was paralyzed with happiness.

The paralysis didn’t wear off until a sufficiently cute person finally entered the hallway.

“Heyyyyy, Hobie.” Instantly, MJ pounced. She knew she liked to assign the label to others, but she could be something of a jungle predator herself. “Where have you been hiding yourself? What, you think you can just blow us all away in Midsummer Night’s and then ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again? Why don’t we ever hang?”

Wow. From Hobie’s face, you’d think a girl had never fluttered her lashes at him before. He’d been stunned speechless.

Flash didn’t for the life of him know how he managed it, but after minutes of struggling, he was able to fit his math book back inside his locker in a way that only caused two or three other books to spill out onto the floor. But that fell within an acceptable margin of error, and so Flash happily shut the locker back.

Doing so revealed a dark-haired girl frowning at him.

“Sh-Sha Shan!” Flash grinned at her, but his trademark hair-curl wilted with anxiety. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t see you at drama club today,” Sha Shan blurted out.

“Oh,” said Flash, “w-well, y’know, guess now that I can go to football practice again-” He gestured to his gloriously non-cast-covered leg. “-I just don’t have time for-”

“Don’t have time?” Sha Shan cut in, her voice growing ever so slightly higher. “But Hobie and Kong were there. We know how to fit the schedule around football.”

Darn, she was good. “Okay, okay, I forgot,” Flash admitted with a shrug. “Sorry.”

That only made Shan Shan’s voice go tight. “Look, Flash, if you don’t want to be in drama club, we’re not forcing you.”

“Really?” A big old sigh of relief escaped Flash’s oversized mouth. “Aww, thanks for understanding, babe. Ooh, and now that you’re here, and I got you a chocolate bunny.” He reached into his backpack to retrieve the delectable critter.

“That's sweet. Thanks.” Sha Shan gave him an apologetic look as she accepted the chocolate. “I, uh, I forgot this Sunday's Easter. I didn't get you anything.”

“It's cool. I already got the best present right here.” Flash flashed his flashiest grin at her. But she failed to respond in turn. “What? Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t… Don’t you like drama club?” Uh oh. Sha Shan was getting a look on face just like that time when Flash had doubted Liz’s new dress would fit.

“Well…” Flash fished for words. The truth was there weren’t any good mushy romance parts in this one for him to play alongside Sha Shan, which had killed his interest considerably. “…yeah, of course I do, but, y’know, that last play was, like, funny and stuff, but this new one is…” Some boring crap about a used car salesman or something.

“…kind of a downer?” Sha Shan’s head bowed. “Yeah. I understand. It’s just… you'd make a good Biff Loman, that's all.”

“Sha Shan?” Flash started towards her, but she drew away. “You okay?”

“No, I…” Sha Shan let out a sigh. “Look, Flash, we both know you're the jock and I'm the nerdy drama girl, so… I mean, if you don’t even like drama club all that much, why'd you ask me out in the first place?” She met his eyes. “Nobody's ever gone out of their way for me like that before.”

“Why'd I ask you out? Uh…” Flash thought fast. “Because you’re cool. And smart. And hot.” He paused before adding, “But not in a shallow way!”

“Oh. Well…” It must’ve been the right answer because a smirk was now playing on Sha Shan’s lips. “…so long as it’s not in a shallow way…”

That was enough for Flash to un-tense himself and carry on down the hall alongside his girlfriend, who nodded her head in time with his incessant stream of blustering.

But what Flash didn’t notice was the way those lips wilted as soon as his back was turned.

“...was so absorbed in the show, I didn't even think about stabbing the nurse until the commercials came on!”

“That's encouraging news, Cletus-” Dr. Kafka gave a patient nod to the man at the far side of the group circle. “-but it was Otto's turn to talk.”

Cletus let out a huff. Of all the patients in today's group therapy, he was by far the scrawniest, and an Easter Bunny ears headband rested over his ginger hair.

“So, Otto...” Kafka smiled at the short, chubby man a couple seats across from Cletus. “...anything you'd like to share? Do you feel you've accomplished anything in your time here?”

“Please.” Otto rolled his eyes beneath his big, square glasses. “The only thing I've accomplished is staving off my mind-numbing boredom from this cesspool of an asylum.”

“Mental care facility,” Kafka said firmly. “Otto, please, you were doing so well last Christmas-”

“For the last time, you insufferable wench, that was an act! It was all part of my master plan!” Otto scowled at his shoes. “But my tolerance of it has finally worn thin. I see no point in hiding my contempt for you anymore.”

“Interesting.” Kafka glanced down at her notes. “So would you say that persona was an 'act' before the accident, too?”

“What are you blathering about?”

“Electro here says he only stopped being Max Dillion after his accident.” Kafka nodded to the one patient wearing a containment suit and inhibitor bracelets instead of the standard blue hospital gown. “Do you feel the same way about yourself?”

“I fail to see what difference it makes,” Otto said stiffly.

“I just find it interesting that you can stop acting like 'Doctor Octopus' and resume acting like mild, timid Otto Octavius at will, that's all.”

“Ugh, how much longer do we gotta put up with this crap, Doc?” groaned Electro.

Otto scowled at him. “Well, if I had an escape plan, I most certainly wouldn't tell you about it in front of a psychiatrist and a small army of guards, now would I?”

There was, indeed, a small army of guards surrounding the room – sent here straight from the Vault. They kept their guns fixed on the far wall, almost like they were expecting supervillains or tentacle arms to burst through it any second now.

“Nobody's going anywhere,” said Kafka. “Now, Otto, why don't we talk a little about your goals in life? When you were arrested on Valentine's Day, you were trying to become the-” She glanced at her clipboard. “-'Big Man' of crime?”

“Yes,” said Otto, pushing his glasses up his nose, “but I see now that it was a mistake.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“There's no point wasting so much time and effort on planning if it can all be derailed by one lone do-gooder.” He clenched his fists. “It's obvious that if any of my schemes are ever to come to fruition, first I'll need Spider-Man's head on a pike.”

“I keep telling you!” spoke up another patient from across the room. “Spider-Man is Peter Parker!”

Otto turned to give a dry look to a certain blonde. “Yes, I've heard. Spider-Man just so happens to conveniently be your best friend who you have a grudge against, and you know this for a fact because a space alien told you.”

“You've seen Spider-Man in the black suit!” yelled Eddie. “And- And Peter takes those pictures for the Bugle-”

“Eddie, please, it's not your turn to talk,” cut in Kafka.

“Wait, space alien?” Cletus snapped to alertness. “What space alien?”

“You don't believe me?” Eddie spat, springing out his seat. He wasn't three feet from Otto when the guards tackled him. “It's real! The alien is real! It loves me! WE'RE VENOM! WE'RE-” The screams carried down the hall as he was dragged away.

“He'd been so lucid lately.” Kafka let out a sigh before returning her attention to the group. “Now then, Otto, you were saying?”

Cletus raised his hand in the air like a school student. “Excuse me, but what about the alien?”

“There's no such thing as aliens,” said Kafka. “Eddie was having a delusional episode.”

“There are such things as aliens!” spoke up a random other patient. “I saw one once! It was shiny and it flew around on a surf board!”

Otto buried his face in his hands. “I'm surrounded by idiots.”

A woman in a black jacket stood in the street, gazing wistfully at a house across the sidewalk. The suburbs of Queens were in the memories of both the symbiote's old hosts, as well as this new, temporary host. It and the woman were not Venom – There was no “we.” Their relationship was a brief thing, born of convenience. The symbiote felt the faintest stirrings of the woman's conscience, but it fought it back down.

After several minutes, the symbiote tore the woman's head away from the house. Right now, its first host would be home from school. Its first love. The symbiote felt its body shiver with sickness once again. It wanted nothing more than to crawl through the window, to ooze over the boy's body as he slept, but... the boy did not love it anymore.

No, worse than that, the boy had pretended to love it, had said he wanted it back, but that had been nothing but a ruse. The emotions had tasted all wrong. Peter Parker... Spider-Man... was a liar, and the symbiote would not let itself succumb to the sickness until he had been punished. But this woman was far too weak for the job.

The symbiote needed its Other. It needed its Eddie.

Funny, Peter had spent all of school today complaining about his aunt doting on him, but now that he and Gwen were roaming the empty halls after Gwen’s band practice, suddenly doting wasn’t so bad anymore.

“Aw, no, I’m fine, really. I heal quick-” Peter’s protests grew silent once Gwen’s fingers entered his hair.

“Your little adventure this morning,” she said in an awed whisper, “was the coolest thing I have ever seen in my life. I saw you on the news on- on my phone-”

“In the middle of class?” Peter grinned. “Shame on you.”

“-and you were doing all those flips and sucker-punching that grizzly bear guy, and- God, I’ve got the best boyfriend of all time and I can’t tell a soul about it.”

“Welcome to my world…” Peter turned to Gwen, who was, as per newly-formed tradition, walking hand-in-hand with him.

Gwen fiddled with her glasses, which, for once, were existent. She seemed to have settled for a happy medium between “messy-haired dork” and “trying her hardest to look like a blonde MJ.” Her glasses had made a triumphant return, and with her green jacket in the wash, she'd returned to her regular pink-jacket-pink-headband combo.

“You poor thing.” Gwen brought her other hand to his chest, gently pushing Peter’s head against his locker. “Single-handedly defeated the entireLegion of Losers all by yourself, and all you got in return was a broken wrist.” The official story was that Peter had fallen off a fire escape trying to photograph this morning’s battle. “If only there was some way I could fix that...”Peter’s wasn’t the only head drawing nearer to that locker.

“You could do my homework for me,” said Peter.

The remark earned his forehead a swat.

“I mean, you could make out with me.”

“Better.”

After that, the talking came to something of a halt, seeing as their mouths were now obstructed. Gwen was pretty sure she was improving at this. Or maybe it was the choice of boyfriend that’d improved. With Harry, it’d felt like he’d been trying to rip her face off with his mouth. This was slower. Less one-sided. Dare she say sensua-?

“Hey, someone call the janitor!” rang out an ear-bleeding voice. “Dere’s nerd love all ova the lockas.”

Peter and Gwen nearly bits each other’s tongues off in their scramble to detach themselves. Ugh, perfect, this hallway wasn’t as secluded as it’d looked. The way Sally’s nose was twitching, Gwen couldn’t help but sniff herself for signs of body odor.

“Is dis really what ya been reduced to since Liz dumped ya?” Sally’s trademark voice was enough to draw the eyes of other passerby. “Now dat’s just sad.” A snicker ran through the crowd. “If you’re gonna stick a cow in a dress, at least make it a pretty dress.”

It took every once of will to keep Gwen from looking down at her outfit. She managed to keep her eyes level with Sally’s, though the tradeoff was that Gwen’s had compacted itself. Hadn’t the hall been empty a second ago? Where had all these snickering onlookers come from? Sally’s voice must’ve summoned them like a dog whistle.

Figured. Gwen turned to begin her typical response of slinking off in the opposite direction, head bowed… except her boyfriend went the opposite way. “Peter-?”

The gap between him and Sally had just grown considerably smaller. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.” Peter’s voice, usually so warm and bouncy, had become the polar opposite. “Care to repeat it?” Turned out, when he wasn’t slouching, he was a good half-foot taller than her.

Now, in place of a snicker, an “Ooooooooooh” ran through the crowd.

“I- I- Well, I-” For the briefest of moment, Sally stammered, taking a step back. “I gotta go hurl. I got Parker in ma pers’nal space!” Of course. Only Sally could manage to run away with her tail between her legs while still looking haughty.

To Peter’s credit, though, not every member of the crowd seemed convinced by Sally’s performance. In fact, Rand was giving his girlfriend an outright scowl.

Sally halted her march to cock her head at him. “What?” But when her boyfriend failed to reply, she kept on marching.

Peter and his girlfriend regrouped in an empty classroom. He shut the door behind them, creating a buffer of safety between themselves and the pack of bloodthirsty teens outside.

“I swear to God, she’s a middle schooler trapped in a junior’s body,” Peter said with a scowl.

“Yeah.” Gwen’s back was to him. “She’s not totally off base, though… Probably wouldn’t kill me to hit the gym once in a while.”

“Gwen.” Peter had to navigate a couple empty desks to reach her side. “Sally only said that cuz she knew it’d get under your skin.

“Still, I don’t exactly have a cheerleader physique here.” Gwen pinched her tummy to illustrate. “This is what happens when you spend all day on your laptop instead of fighting crime.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t a beanpole before that spider bite, either.” Peter swung around to her front, but that only caused Gwen to jerk her face away from his gaze. “Look…” He took a breath. “…we can start going to the gym if you want-”

“You don’t have to come,” said Gwen. “I’m not sure they’ll have ten-ton dumbbells.”

“-but you should only do that if you wanna get in shape and be healthy and stuff, not to meet Sally Avril’s standards.” Peter finally managed to meet Gwen’s eyes, but only after gently guiding her chin with his fingers. “And for what it’s worth, you’re already above and beyond my standards.”

A laugh fluttered, hesitant, from Gwen’s mouth. “You… You mean it, right? You really think I look okay?”

The humor drained from Peter’s eyes. “Gwen...”

“Forget I asked, forget I asked!” Gwen drew back, cowering. “Sorry, not trying to fish for compliments. I’m just still in awe that you like me, I guess. Keep expecting myself to wake up, y’know?”

For a moment, Peter’s face was unchanged. Then it drew nearer to hers. “You don’t need to fish for compliments, Gwen. You know I think you look so much more than ‘okay.’ I’ve always thought that.”

But this only made Gwen cower harder. “Look, I know you’re trying to nurse my ego back to health, and that’s sweet of you. I mean it. But the reason I keep thinking you’re lying is because you keep saying things like ‘I’ve always thought that.’”

“But I have always-”

Her hand wrapped around his. “It’s okay to admit it, Peter. Heck, at this point, I’d feel better if you did.” Gwen pushed her glasses up her nose. “I looked totally forgettable till MJ gave me that makeover.”

Peter brow creased. “That’s not true. I wish I could give you, like, video proof, but you’ve gotta take my word for it. I’ve thought you were pretty since my eleventh-” He halted mid-sentence.

Gwen blinked at him. “What?”

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Peter...”

Gwen sat huddled on the basement floor, hiding her face from the fuzzy footage blaring across the boxed-sized TV before her. “Oh dear god, please burn this video. I don’t mean copy it to a disc. I mean set it on fire.”

“Ooh, look who it is!” Peter pointed out Gwen’s eleven-year-old self as she entered the frame. “It was that dress that did it for me.” He gestured to the pink party dress that eleven-year-old Peter was eyeing.

“You can see my braces.” Gwen was on the verge of tears. “I thought I’d destroyed all the evidence of those.”

“Oh, come on, the braces were the cutest part!”

At this, Gwen sighed, then folded her arms. “Fine. I still don’t see how this proves anything.”

“Keep watching.”

A minute later, once eleven-year-old Peter was off to the side of the Parker household kitchen, the camera zoomed in on his face.

“So what’d you wish for, kiddo?” asked a warm, withered voice from offscreen.

“Oh, uh...” The young Peter’s eyes were clearly fixed on the cameraman and not the camera. “I don’t really know.”

“I know what he wished for,” said a voice. The camera spun to reveal a blonde, pimply-faced teenager. “Here’s a hint – Her last name’s ‘Stacy.’”

Young Peter’s glasses nearly popped off his face. “Eddie!”

“See?” On the other side of the glass, sixteen-year-old Peter turned back to sixteen-year-old Gwen. “Look how hard I was blushing. I totally thought you were cute. I was just a little too young for girls, and by the time puberty hit full swing, you were my best friend. You were too familiar a sight, y’know?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Uh oh. She looked sadder than ever.

“Gwen? What’s wrong?” Instantly, Peter’s arms were around her from behind.

“Nothing, nothing.” Gwen made the transition from hugging her knees to hugging her boyfriend. “Thanks for showing me this, Peter. You really are sweet. It’s just...” Her eyes returned to the pimple-faced teen on the screen. “...do you think he’ll ever go back to normal?”

No response.

“He’s lying alone right now in some miserable little hospital room.” Gwen’s voice grew hollower with each word. “And meanwhile, here we are, goofing around and making out and… and…”

“Shh…” Peter wiped her eyes with his good hand. “You want to visit him?”

Gwen gave a feeble nod. “I just can’t help thinking… what if whatever the symbiote did to him, like, wears off after a while? What if we can reason with him now?”

But at this, Peter sighed. “You weren’t there before the ambulance carted him off. Eddie practically tried to squeeze himself down that drain pipe after the ooze. The first time I got it off him, I’d thought Eddie might go back to normal… we might just talk and hug it out… but after the second time, I…” He shut his eyes. “I don’t want to let myself hope.”

He reopened them a moment later to find Gwen’s gazing at him. “But don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

Eddie was lying alone right now in some miserable little hospital room. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. There wasn't exactly much else to stare at now that he was back in the straightjacket, after all.

He’d finally started to nod off when the door to his room creaked open.

“Hi!” A head of red hair topped with Easter Bunny ears poked its way inside. “Aww, poor thing. Can't move?” Cletus waltzed towards the bed. “You can still squirm a bit, though.” He reached into the folds of his hospital gown. “I like that.”

“Do you have it?” Eddie struggled against the jacket with all his might. “The alien? Is it in your clothes?”

Cletus paused. “The alien?” He fished through his pockets. There were sharpened plastic spoons, little chunks of wood scraped off the bed posts, and a toothbrush that'd been snapped in half so the end was all jagged, but no aliens. “Sorry, I got nothin' but shivs.”

“Oh.” Eddie ceased struggling as disappointment gripped his face.

“That's a fun word,” said Cletus. “Shiv shiv shiv shiv shiv shiv shiv...” He spaced out for a minute. “Hey, random question, how attached are you to your arteries?”

“It's coming back for me,” said Eddie.

Cletus frowned. “What is? The alien?”

Eddie nodded. “It loves me. It's the... only one... who does...”

Cletus pondered this for a moment. “What's it like?”

“It engulfs your entire body... makes you one with it...”

“Wow!” His eyes filled with awe. “Can I have it?”

“No!” At this, Eddie's struggles resumed tenfold. “It's not yours! It doesn't want you! It wants ME! We're Venom! WE'RE VENOM!”

“Oh, well, if that's how you're gonna be about it...” Cletus looked over his shivs. Hmm... He had a wide selection to choose from, but the toothbrush was his personal favorite. “Alight, Brocky.” He held it high into the air. “Open wide and say 'ah.'”

“Eddie, are you-?” At the last possible second, the door opened, and a girl stumbled into the room. The instant she spotted Eddie's visitor, she started shrieking her head off. “Jesus, he's loose! Security! Security!”

Cletus spun towards her, a shiv in each hand and a big grin on his face. “Hel-lo, nurse.” He glanced at a TV in the corner of the room, which was currently displaying a nice, juicy hamburger. “You'd better hope those commercials end in the next three seconds.”

mayorofcrazytown: so yeah, turns out spiderwoman actualy has nothing to do with spiderman at all. She just hapened to get spidr powers in a compltly unrelated incidnt

battlecraftmaster: Dude, it's Spider-Man, not Spiderman. There's a hyphen.

mayorofcrazytown: noone cares

battlecraftmaster: Your mom cared last night.

Guess Who?: Not that this isn't a riveting conversation, but can you answer a question?

mayorofcrazytown: whoooooa, your back!!!

battlecraftmaster: Where the heck have YOU been? We had to get a new forum mod.

kreeskrulltruther: it was the gvrnmnt, wasnt it? they abducted you because they didnt want you telling everyone spider-man's secret ID! I keep saying peter palmer is a alien! noone ever listens to me!

Guess Who?: Last January, the black Spider-Man, Venom, attacked Peter's high school. A boy named Eddie Brock took credit for it.

mayorofcrazytown: ...okay?????

Guess Who?: What happened after that? Where did the police put him? Where is Eddie Brock?

battlecraftmaster: Where they always put the crazy people. Ravencroft.

Guess Who?: Thanks.

battlecraftmaster: You know you could've just googled that, right?

kreeskrulltruther: i sure am glad ravencroft keeps those people off the streets. There are some real wackos out there

Chapter Text

Rand was still waiting for Sally by the courtyard fountain when he was suddenly approached by Flash’s girl. Which was fortunate because it meant Rand was spared Sally’s customary grumbling about him allowing a geek into his proximity.

“Hey, you’re Flash’s friend, right?” Sha Shan began, clutching her book bag to her cheat. “Can I ask you something?”

Rand gave a shrug. “Hit me.”

Sha Shan took a breath, then glanced away before asking, “Do you know when Flash, uh, started taking an interest in me, exactly? I mean, what made him notice me in particular?”

“Ooh.” Rand might’ve given a less truthful reply, but his impulsive wince had already told Sha Shan everything. “Look, don’t tell him I said this, but… guess you deserve to hear it straight.” Rand gave the poor girl one last apologetic smile before revealing: “He was totally rebounding from Liz. You were just the first girl to cross his path. Then you rejected him, so he got butthurt and made dating you his personal Mount Everest.”

“Yeah.” With that, Sha Shan turned to leave, her face hidden by her hair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The holidays were still the holidays, even in insane asylums. Ravencroft's lounge area was overflowing with fake grass, plastic Easter eggs, a guy in a horrendously uncomfortable-looking rabbit costume, and hordes of inmates running around yelling, “I knew it! I knew the Easter Bunny was real!”

And, in the darkest, dankest corner of the room, a certain overweight mad scientist sat, scowling as hard as his scowling muscles would allow. He reached for his “EVIL GENIUS” mug, but with a sudden crash, it fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

“Whoops!” Peter backed away from the coffee table, holding his injured hand innocently. “I am so sorry, sir! I'm such a klutz. It’s this splint-”

“Watch where you're going, you insolent brat! That was my favorite cup!” Otto looked just south of seething with unbridled rage, but when he had the proper amount of arms, he wasn't quite as threatening.

“Yes sir, of course, I'll just be out of your way.” With that, Peter scurried back over to where Gwen was waiting. The instant Doc Ock was safely out of sight, Peter's face overflowed with smugness.

“Peter,” Gwen said with barely restrained laughter, “were you taunting the imprisoned supervillain?”

“Me? No. That'd be petty...”

The couple made their way to the front desk, where a chubby, gray-haired lady was absorbed in a book.

“Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy,” said Gwen. “I have an appointment to see Edward Brock Jr. with my boyfriend.” She gestured to him. “Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker?” the lady said, not looking up. “You mean the kid Brock swears up and down is Spider-Man?”

Peter promptly jumped out of his skin. “What? No! I've never even heard of Spider-Man! Why, is he some kind of superhero?”

“Look, I work at an asylum. I've met twelve Spider-Men, five Captain Americas, and a guy who was convinced Invisible Girl was stalking him.” The lady gave Peter a sour look. “It gets a little old.”

The couple’s second trip towards Eddie’s room wasn’t as eventful as the first. Electro seemed dormant, for one thing. Eventually, though, they reached Eddie’s room, and, just as before, Peter hesitated at the door.

“You sure you want me to come in? It could just freak him out worse-”

“I know, I know.” Gwen took a breath. “But if you could talk it out with him, maybe we could make Eddie underst-?”

“We will destroy Spider-Man! We will destroyyyyy Spider-Maaaaaaan! WE ARE V-”

“Yeah, thanks, we haven’t forgot who you are in the last five seconds,” cut in Peter.

On the opposite side of the bed, Gwen shot him a glare.

“Sorry. I mean, uh...” Peter took a breath, then placed a hesitant hand on Eddie’s mattress. “Look, Eddie, if you want to rave about how much you hate me, could you at least, like, go over why you hate me one more time?”

“It doesn’t love you! It loves ME!” A few less inches between them, and Eddie would’ve managed to headbutt Peter. Luckily, his jacket held him back like a dog at the end of its chain.

“The symbiote messed with your head, Eddie!” At the start of this conversation, Gwen had been the calmest of the three, but even she was starting to slip. “There’s just no reason for you to hate Peter. The Connors gave you your job back, and sure, Peter shouldn’t have sold those Lizard pics to the Bugle, but he also saved us all from the Lizard in the first place. Doesn’t that count for-?”

“Ah, Gwen, our favorite plaything!” Seemed this was the first Eddie had noticed of her. He turned her way, lagging out his tongue like he thought it was still Venom’s. “You’ll make such a beautiful corpse, we can hardly wait-”

“That’s enough.” Before Gwen could react, Peter placed himself between the two. “This is getting us nowhere, Gwen. Let’s just leave already.” He turned for the door, shoulders sagged. “Something tells me Eddie doesn’t appreciate our company.”

“But-” Gwen sputtered for a second, then reluctantly trudged towards the door alongside her boyfriend. Just before slipping through it though, she spun back to snap, “Don’t you get that the symbiote’s half the reason Peter was such a jerk to you in the first place? It played you two against each other!”

“It loves me! It loves me!” Eddie’s raving continued long after the door slammed shut.

“Yo, Sha Shan!” Flash gave a pleasant wave as his girlfriend marched towards him across the parking lot. “There you are. Been lookin’ everywhere for you. So, y’know, there’s this really cool movie out-”

But the words dried in his throat the instant a chocolate bunny slammed his palms.

“Here.” Sha Shan’s voice was nails on a chalkboard. “You might want to save this for the next hot girl who walks past.”

“Sha Shan, wait, that's not- Come back!”

By the time they returned to the front lobby, Peter’s arm was practically fused to Gwen’s waist. “C’mon… let’s get you some ice cream.”

“I’d like that.” Any signs of life had faded from Gwen’s voice.

“Hey, chin up.”

“I know, I know.” Gwen’s chin didn’t seem to feel like going up, though. “I guess we’ve done everything we can for Eddie.”

“Did you say Eddie? As in Eddie Brock?”

Peter and Gwen spun their heads to the front entrance, where a woman was heading towards them. She was pretty, maybe in her twenties, with pale skin, long dark hair, and some kinda leather biker jacket that didn't look as cool as she probably thought it did. She was exactly the kind of girl Eddie would date.

“Hi,” said Gwen, frowning. “You know Eddie, too?”

The woman nodded. “I met him at Empire State.”

Peter and Gwen traded glances. Weird... Eddie had never said anything about having a college girlfriend.

“So you're his friend?” said Peter.

“Something like that.” The woman looked to the lady behind the front desk. “What room is Eddie in?”

“Two-O-four B,” the lady said, eyes locked on her book.

“Thanks.” The woman started to move for the hall, but Peter blocked his path.

“Sorry, I don't think Eddie ever mentioned you.” Peter gave the biker jacket a suspicious glare. “What did you say your name w-?”

“Everyone out of the halls!” That instant, a doctor bolted into the lounge, utter terror on his face. “Kasady's loose again! He's got a knife, and- and he grabbed a nurse!”

The asylum-goers' reactions were a mix of terrified screams and annoyed groans.

“For God's sake, that's the third time this month,” said Otto, rising to his feet. “Can't you buffoons keep one scrawny ginger in check? Kasady's hospitalized more people while locked up in Ravencroft than the entire Sinister Six combined!”

Back by the front desk, Peter gave a start. “What? Who is this guy, a serial killer?”

“Let me put it this way,” the desk-lady said as she fished for her bookmark, “when Cletus Kasady was eight, his pet cat fell into a meat grinder right in front of him-”

“That poor man!” gasped Gwen.

“-and then when he was fourteen, his girlfriend tripped into the middle of the street and got run over, and then when he was twenty, his parents' house caught fire – You seeing the pattern here?”

“Oh,” said Gwen.

“Well in that case, we'd better get outta here as fast as possible! Come on, Gwen-” Peter grabbed her hand and hurried out the door, past a couple security guards watching the exit. As soon as they were safely out of sight, Peter dived into some nearby bushes and unzipped his backpack.

“You- You don't think the guards can handle him?” Gwen said, breathless.

“Can't hurt to have a little spider-themed insurance.” Once the mask was over his face, Spider-Man doubled back towards the building.

“Peter, wait, what about-?” But he'd already hopped inside through a window.

Something here felt... off. Gwen's eyes flitted back towards Ravencroft's front entrance. She kept vigil for several minutes. The guards evacuated plenty of panicked patients and visitors, but not included among them were any mysterious women with pitch-black biker jackets.

Gwen shut her eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, she was dangling from a parade balloon again. But... no, no, she was just being paranoid. Back when those robots had attacked the school, Peter had made a big fuss about having precognition, hadn't he? If that woman was Venom, his spider-vision would've buzzed or whatever. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief.

She was sure everything was fine.

The instant his door creaked open, Eddie ceased his battle with his straightjacket and spun his head to the entrance. Standing in the doorway was a beautiful woman... but the jacket on her back was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.

“Do you have it?” Eddie's heart was beating faster. “Is it in your clothes?”

A big, wide smile crossed the woman's face. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Oh God... God, please, don't-”

The only thing louder than the nurse's sobs was Cletus's laughter. The volume of his cackles only increased as he pinned the girl against the hallway floor, a shiv hovering above her neck.

“There's no need to get so upset.” Ever so gently, Cletus pressed the tip under her chin. “There's no need to get so anything. It's pointless. Everything is pointless. All I'm trying to do is show you... show you the chaos.”

“Please, I have a daughter!”

“Oh, I know.” Cletus nodded. “Don't worry, she’s next.” The shiv began its descent...

Thwip.

...and was immediately yanked away by a strand of webbing.

“Geez, man, who peed in your Cheerios?”

“You?” Cletus spun towards the ceiling, snarling.

“Oh, look, a crazy murderous ginger.” Spider-Man crumpled the shiv like it was made of paper. “If you put on a goblin costume, I will friggin' scream.”

Good thing Peter didn’t need to wear that splint anymore. He’d only kept it on for show, really. Though he, err, probably didn’t need to let Gwen know that, seeing as she hadn’t finished his trig homework yet.

“You're ruining everything!” yelled Cletus. “I need it! I need it!”

“Okay, okay, we'll get you some Cocoa Puffs! Calm down.” Before Cletus had time to try anything else, Spidey shot out a glob of webbing that pinned him to the far wall.

“You alright?” Spidey dropped down to the floor to check on the nurse, but she ran off screaming before he could get a good look at her. Spider-Man sighed and shook his head. “Ah, well, I didn't want her thanks, anyways…” He glanced back at the squirming Cletus, whose mouth had been mercifully covered over. “Now then, with bees-for-brains all webbed up, the next order of business is checking on that shady chick with the black jacket. Given how much the universe loves me, I've got a feeling that's Venom.”

No sooner was the word out his mouth than the door at the far end of the hallway exploded. “Say our name and we magically appear!”

“HEY!” yelled Spider-Man. “Get your own material!”

His first impulse might have been to quip, but that didn’t mean Peter’s muscles weren’t coiling themselves at the sight before him. He’d been was afraid Venom would rear his slimy head again, and lo and behold, there he was, standing in the destroyed remains of the doorway to Eddie's room, looking as slobbery-tongued and top-heavy as ever.

“Ahhh, it feels so good to be back!” said Venom, stretching his symbiote-covered muscles. “Now the question is, do we kill Spider-Man now or wait until we've offed all his loved ones?”

“How about choice C?” Spidey crouched into a fighting stance. “You finally realize you're being possessed by an alien and every word coming out your mouth is crazy?”

“Hmm...” Venom pondered this for a moment. “Nah. Our way's more fun.” He dived out a nearby window.

“Dang. They never pick C...” Spider-Man followed suit.

The two of them (or three of them, depending on how you counted) landed by Ravencroft's front entrance, where Gwen had been waiting. The instant she spotted the big, black slime monster coming at her, she shrieked and ran for it.

Thwip. A black tendril shot after her.

Double-thwip! But then a gray tendril latched onto Venom's back, and he was swung into the far wall. Venom went crashing through the building, sending rubble every which way. Spidey couldn't help but wince – though luckily the lobby had already been evacuated, so no one got hurt. Wow, Cletus had actually done something helpful.

“You okay?” Spider-Man spun towards Gwen, who looked not unlike a veteran in the middle of 'Nam flashbacks.

“You- You said your powers would warn you about stuff like this!” she managed to stammer.

“It doesn't work on Venom! I was bonded to the symbiote for so long, my spider-sense doesn't register him as a threat!”

“That's stupid! What, your spider-sense can judge how friendly the imminent danger is-?”

“I don't know how my spider-sense works, okay? It just does! Is now really the best time for this?”

“Right, sorry. Running away now!” Gwen bolted for the streets.

“Call your dad!” Spider-Manyelled after her. “Tell him to bring plenty of tranq gas!”

Suddenly, Spidey felt something cold and slimy wrap around his waste. Man, he hoped Gwen's dad got here fast…

“Agh!” Spider-Man was dragged through the hole Venom had made, landing in one of the asylum's nondescript hallway. He tried to struggle, but that got pretty difficult once Venom's slime wound its way around his throat.

“Maybe now people will believe us.” Venom's face peeled back to reveal a smug-looking Eddie. “Maybe now they'll all listen to us when we say that YOU, PETER PARKER, ARE SPIDER-MAN!” He glanced around, but the only people who'd heard him were the crazies in their cells. “Hmm, let's adjourn to a more public venue, shall we?”

Spidey was dragged along by his neck. Eff my life eff my life eff my life eff my life...

“HELLO, NURSES!” Apparently, Eddie found the staff break room suitably public. “LOOK, IT'S US, EDDIE BROCK! WE WEREN'T LYING ABOUT THAT ALIEN AFTER ALL! AND LOOK WHO WE'VE BROUGHT WITH US – OUR GOOD FRIEND PETER PARKER!” He reached for Spider-Man's mask…

Thwack.

…and was promptly kicked away. Spidey had gotten his second wind, finding the strength to do a backflip and rip the symbiote off his neck so he could gasp for breath.

“Indoor voices, Eddie.” Spider-Man waggled a disapproving finger.

Luckily, the nurses seemed more concerned with running for their lives than learning Spidey's secret ID. Venom reluctantly put his face back over Eddie's – What was the point of having a scary monster-face if you were just gonna keep it peeled back all the time?

“Oh, well,” Venom grinned, “we're sure people will listen to us once 'Guess Who?' uploads a dramatic video of us unmasking you to the world. It'll certainly give the people on our forum something to talk about. We've neglected them for so long...”

“What, they don't have wi-fi in insane asylums?” Spider-Man swung his fist as hard as he could.

“It's a little hard to type in a straightjacket.” But Venom caught the punch in his palm, then responded in kind. “You'd be surprised how helpful our little forum-goers can be, though. They were the ones who told us where to find Eddie, and then imagine our delight when you came straight here while we were stalking you. Saved us the trouble of having to figure out how to work a GPS.”

The blow had sent Spidey skidding, but he quickly collected himself and hopped up to the ceiling. “Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but if people believed half the stuff they read about me on the internet, they'd all be thinking I'm a space alien government spy who doesn't know how to shot web.”

“That's alright.” Once again, Venom copied Spider-Man, hopping up onto the ceiling. “Maybe we'll just post a detailed expose on Dr. Connors's cross-species experiments – specifically those genetically-altered spiders of his, and how they can give people spider-powers, and how Peter Parker, the kid who takes all the pictures of Spider-Man, just so happens to be interning at Connors's lab.”

“Hey!” Spidey shot web- err, shot a web at Venom, but he dodged with lightning speed. “Come on, Eddie, your vendetta against me's stupid enough, but don't drag the Connors into it! Do you even realize what you're saying? You were practically family to them!”

Venom retaliated with his own web, and, Spidey was ashamed to admit, without spider-sense, he wasn't quite as good at dodging.

“We don't have a family!” spat Venom. “We're sure it was easy for you to forget while your precious aunt was baking you wheatcakes, but we grew up alone! Well, guess what, 'bro?' We don't need a family anymore! We don't need Gwen, we don't need the Connors, and I definitely don't need you. I have all the family I need right here.” He pointed a thumb at his white chest-spider.

Beneath the mask, Peter raised an eyebrow. “'I?'”

“We! We have all the family we need!”

Peter's lips curled upwards. “Aww, is your crush on the symbiote a weeny bit one-sided?”

“Shut up. It doesn't want you anymore. It wants m- us. It wants us. It-” Suddenly, Venom plummeted off the ceiling, making a crater in the floor. “What the-?” The next thing Spidey knew, Venom was kneeled over, puking out what looked like half-digested mice. Great, because Venom wasn't disgusting enough before.

“Something's wrong.” Venom's face once again peeled back to reveal Eddie's. “We're- It's- It's sick.” He blinked. “It's sick. I can feel it. It's... dying.” Slowly, his head turned towards Spider-Man. “The gene cleanser. You did this! You poisoned it!”

“I did?” said Spider-Man. “Awesome! One less evil alien in the world.”

“No...” Eddie's voice was shaking with horror. “It won't end like this. It can't. I... won't... die...” Venom's face crawled back over Eddie's. “...alone.”

A wave of blackness shot towards Spider-Man, but he tumbled out of harm's way, dropping back to the floor and dashing through another door. Venom gave chase, using his tendrils to carry himself Doc Ock-style. The cooky couple ended up back in the lounge area. By now, it was empty save for the guy in the bunny suit cowering in the corner.

“No more screwing around. If we don't have time to ruin your life, we'll just end it.” Venom aimed his fists and started firing web-bullets big enough to take Spider-Man's head off. It was all Spidey could do to keep dodging them all.

“Don't worry, Spider-Man!” called out the Easter Bunny guy. “Venom's gotta run out of webs eventually!”

“Actually, we never run out,” said Venom. “Our web-shooters are organic.”

“Huh. I thought they were mechanical...”

Oh, man, Spidey couldn't keep dodging these things forever. With Venom's fists firing like machine guns, so much as one bullet grazing Spider-Man's leg would be enough to cripple him. There had to be a way out...

“Aha!” Spidey grabbed a nearby TV remote off a coffee table with his webs, then aimed it at the widescreen TV beside Venom and cranked up the stereo to max.

“BREAKING NEWS! YOU PROBABLY DIDN'T THINK THE SINGER'S BABY WOULD BE FOUND DRIVING THE CAR FOR A FIFTH TIME, BUT TUNE IT AT FOUR, AND YOU MIGHT JUST BE SUPR-”

Venom stumbled back, hissing, but there were only a merciful few seconds before he managed to smash the TV into a million pieces. “Just for that, we're going to make your death unpleasant.” Venom turned back towards Spidey.

But Venom wasn't expecting to find Spider-Man lunging for his face. “Wha-?”

“You look thirsty!” Spidey landed on his shoulders. “Here, let me give you a nice, refreshing beverage.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of yellow liquid.

Look, Spider-Man wasn't stupid. He knew eventually Morbius would corner him in a dark alley or Connors would turn back into the Lizard somehow or Kraven would show his stupid furry face again. After that little tussle with Man-Wolf, Spidey had gotten in the habit of keeping some spare gene cleanser on his utility belt, and right now, he was giving himself a really big pat on the back for that.

“No! No! Please, you'll kill us!” Venom tried to squirm, but Spidey was already pouring the vial down his throat. The cleanser trickled towards his tongue... but at the last second, the symbiote sprang off its host. The cleanser landed in Eddie's mouth, and seeing as Eddie already had a hundred percent human DNA, all it did was make him cough and sputter a bit.

“Come on, Venom, take your medicine!” Spider-Man reached into his belt and uncorked his backup vial. “Open wide. The airplane goes in the tunnel…” He tried to splash the cleanser directly on the slime – As far as Spidey could tell, the symbiote was an amorphous blob, so that mouth was just for show – but the symbiote dived back onto Eddie's ankle to dodge.

“Oh no you don't!” Before it had time to turn Eddie back into Venom, Spider-Man gave him a nice, strong punch to the face. It was hard enough to knock Eddie out cold, but not hard enough to break anything – Spidey had learned his lesson from the Grizzly. The monster-face and white spider emblem reformed over Eddie's slime-covered body, but he stayed on the ground. “Guess Venom's staying unconscious.”

“Correction.” Venom gave a sudden lurch, making Spidey come dangerously close to wetting his tights. “Eddie Brock is unconscious. WE are still very much awake.” Venom rose to his feet, but something about his posture was off. He moved almost like a marionette. That wasn't the part that sent shivers down Peter's spine, though. No, that'd be Venom's voice. Usually, it sounded like Eddie's regular voice, but with a kind of alien distortion to it. Now, though, it was all distortion, no Eddie.

“Oh, that's right.” Spidey yanked the far door open with a web so the Easter Bunny guy could flee. “I forgot you can take your hosts' bodies for joyrides while they sleep. Add that to the list of reasons I broke up with you.” Now that the civilian was out of harm's way, Spider-Man darted through the open door, but he wasn't three feet through the next hallway before Venom pounced on him.

“Where do you think you're going?” For the next couple seconds, the two of them traded blows. The problem was, given Eddie was unconscious, Venom didn't seem to care how hard he was hit. The same... couldn't be said for Spider-Man.

“Yeah! Get him!” a voice called out. “Kill that freak!”

Spidey managed to turn his head from the fight long enough to see who was in the cell behind him. “Maxie! Your moral support means the world to me, pal!”

Behind the bars, Electro scowled at him. Well, it was a little hard to see his expression under the containment suit, but Spider-Man assumed he was scowling. “I'm not cheering for you, Wall-Crawler.”

“Then you've picked the right side.” A tendril shot out of Venom's hand, latched onto the cell door, and yanked it off, and then another one made short work of Electro's inhibitor bracelets.

“Now we're talkin'!” The instant he was freed, Electro slid his helmet back to show off his full head of lightning-hair. “One deep-fried spider, coming right up!”

“Yes!” Spider-Man fist-pumped. “I love fighting Electro!”

“Time to d- Wait, what?” Electro did a double-take.

“Well, not one-on-one.” As he spoke, Spidey made sure to position himself exactly between the two villains. “But, like, every time you're in a group, you get all angry and zap your teammates like a complete doof.”

“Really?” Electro sneered. “You think I'm stupid enough to do that again?” He shot out a nice, small burst of electricity that made a wide arc around Venom.

“Well, to be fair, you do have a long history of stupidity,” said Spidey, dodging. “And sometimes you get really irrationally angry over nothing... Max. Maxie. Maxwell. Doofimus Maximus.”

“Oh, please.” Electro stomped his foot, sending out a shockwave. “I don't care if you call me 'Max' anymore. I know you're just trying to goad me.”

“Wow, Ravencroft's anger management courses really work.” Spider-Man side-stepped a mix of lightning and symbiote-webs.

Electro's eyes narrowed. “Glib doesn't equal clever, Spider-Man.”

“'Glib?' Now where have I heard that one before?” Spidey pretended to ponder this as he ducked a swipe of Venom's fist. “Oh, I remember! That's one of Doc Ock's lines!”

At this, Electro tensed. “So what if it is? Otto Octavius is ten times the man you'll ever be.”

“D'aww, your boyfriend's giving you vocab lessons! That's so sweet!”

“What did you say?” It was a little hard to read his expression under all the electricity, but Spidey had a feeling Electro wasn't too happy.

“Oh, come on, we've all seen the way you look at him, Maxie. Those wistful glances during Sinister Six luncheons. Those-”

“You just cracked your last joke, freak! You can insult me all you want, but you do NOT bring HIM into it!”

“Hey, dude, I understand! Prison changes people-”

“SHUT UP!” Aaaaand three... two... one... Zap. Right on cue, Spidey jumped out of the way, and Electro's blast instead hit Venom right in the chest-spider.

“Argh! Watch it!” Venom didn't take too kindly to this. He apparently figured Electro was doing more harm than good, so he fired some web-bullets to knock him out.

“Ah, don't worry, Maxie.” Spidey bounced over to pat the fallen Electro's shoulder. “Our society's really come to accept love between a man and an octopus.”

“Well, that was a fun distraction.” Venom lunged at Spider-Man, but he once again dodged. “But I'm done playing around. The clock's ticking.”

Spidey tried to go for the third vial on his utility belt (Look, he fought a LOT of genetically-altered supervillains, okay?), but suddenly a black tendril wrapped around his ankle. “Gah!” Spidey was yanked off his feet.

“You want to know something funny?” Venom laughed, which, with his new alien voice, sounded extra creepy. “We actually didn't want to kill you. Brock did, but not US. It was our little secret we kept from him.”

Spider-Man had a really sharp retort ready, but the black slime over his mouth stifled it.

“All WE truly wanted was to break you. We wanted your loved ones gone. We wanted your powers gone. And when you were broken and alone and empty like Brock...” Venom leaned in until their faces were almost touching. “...then you would need us, and you would take us back.” He ran his tongue over Spider-Man's face.

Ugh, now Peter was gonna have to bleach this mask. That always made it look pink...

“But all of that's changed now.” More and more slime wrapped itself around Spidey, dragging him towards Venom. “Our life's almost up, Peter. We can feel the poison growing inside us like a tumor. You've killed us... and here we thought that was against your rules.” He shook his head. “'Uncle Ben wouldn't approve, ' remember?”

“E-Evil aliens... don't... count...” Spider-Man got out, strangled.

For a minute, Venom took this in silently. “Well,” he finally said, “if that's how it must be...” The slime wrung Peter's neck. “...then all three of us will die together!”

Oh crud.... Oh poop... Oh humina humina humina, this was bad. Peter was seeing stars. He just... had to get the... slime off his neck... and then...

All of a sudden, the world came back into focus, and Spider-Man rolled up the bottom of his mask so he could suck in as much air as possible. The symbiote had just let him go. But why...?

Spider-Man's eyes fell on Venom, who was once again kneeled over, retching.

“Oh, the cleanser's killing you right in the nick of time.” Spidey gave a grateful look to the heavens. “Wow, God doesn't hate me after all.”

“Blck!” A cascade of goop spewed from Venom's mouth and onto the hallway floor.

“Eww...” Spidey took a step back, eyeing the freshly-hurled slime warily. “Did you just puke blood?”

“No, no...” Eddie, apparently, had woken back up – The voice now sounded like his own. And it was shaking... with delight. Venom ran his hands through the red slime, giggling to himself. “Don't you see? We were wrong. We weren't dying. We... We were having a baby.”

Spider-Man brought his palm to his forehead. “Please tell me I'm not the father...”

Chapter Text

“It's against the natural order o' things, I tell ya.” Sally picked at her salad while Rand sucked down his soda. He was making a concentrated effort not to cringe every time her voice hit his ears. “It was crazy enough that Liz and Flash are into geeks, but now we got robots and super-freaks running around smashin’ up the city, too? Like, what's up with that? Shouldn't the police be doin’ something to keep ’em off the streets?” She gestured to the various passerby in the mall's food court. “The super-freaks, I mean. Not the geeks. Although...”

Rand slurped as hard as he could. He'd actually finished his drink a while ago, but if he slurped hard enough, it sort of drowned out Sally's voice. He was waiting for her to run out of air. In fact, he'd been waiting since the day they met.

“It's just not fair, y'know? They've canceled cheer practice for, like, a month thanks to that robot attack. What am I s’posed to do with myself n-?”

“What about John?” cut in a deep, quivering voice. “Is he a freak, too?” Rand gave her an expectant look.

Sally’s face was a perfect blank. “Who’s John?”

Of course. Rand didn’t know what he’d expected. “John Jameson? He’s only my best friend who I’ve been worried about for months now. But then I don’t expect you to keep track of anyone who doesn’t orbit your head, anyways.”

“Oh, b-but Randy, your friend is different, obviously-”

“Why am I even bothering with you?” spat Rand. “It’s over between us.”

“Over?” That shut her up. “Buh- Buh- But why?”

“I don't know,” said Rand, sitting up straighter, “maybe because every time we hang out together, all we ever talk about is you, you, you, you. I gave you more than enough of a chance. I have been beyond patient, but newsflash, Sally, a relationship takes two people.”

“Randy, no!” Sally reached across the table for his arm, but Rand pulled away. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to tick you off. You're my man.”

Rand snorted. “Go find another football player. We're all the same to you.”

“Excuse me?” Sally sprang to her feet.

Rand folded his arms. His voice was the exact opposite of hers – deep and calm. “All you do is hang off my arm and parade me around in front of your friends. You know, that might get you popular in high school, but in the real world-”

“You sound like my ma!” If Sally had been loud before, now she was audible from the other side of the mall. “Whatever. I don't know why I wanted to date such a jerk in the first place.” She stormed off, but not before purposefully flipping her salad bowl over. “I'm goin' home.”

“While you're there, maybe try growing up a little!” Rand called after her.

She was gone. Finally. Rand took some deep breaths. All this time, he'd felt like a shaken soda bottle, and now he'd finally let off some pressure. One of these days, he really needed to stop dating the first girl who made eyes at him.

“Okay, I'm not gonna lie,” said a voice. “That was the greatest thing I've seen all week.”

Rand looked over his shoulder. The owner of the voice was a girl sitting at the table behind him. She was mixed race, maybe a year or two older than Sally, and breathtakingly pretty. But something about her looked much less... artificial than Sally. Her makeup was considerably more reigned in, and her hair color looked natural. Somehow, her outfit seemed both more expensive and less flashy than Sally's (in the rare instance Sally wasn't wearing her cheerleader uniform, anyways).

Rand had to force himself not to stare. “Oh, uh, hey, there. Guess you heard us?”

“Don't look so ashamed of yourself.” The girl flashed him a smile. She had the kind of teeth Rand had thought only existed on magazine covers. “She sounded like she needed to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Rand glanced back at the mall exit, but Sally was already long gone. “She really did. She's kind of a b-”

“Bleached blonde high school cheerleader?”

“Yeah. That's what I was gonna say.” Rand found himself laughing. “I'm, uh, I'm Rand, by the way.”

“Janice.” The girl extended a hand. “Can I buy you a milkshake?”

Rand was in heaven. Her voice wasn't the least bit shrill.

Okay, okay, Peter had to remain calm. No need to panic. There was just a newborn symbiote wriggling around the halls of Ravencroft, that was all. Just a little baby symbiote. No big deal. And Peter probably wasn't really the father because 1) EWW, and 2) the Venom symbiote clearly had some kinda crazy alien biology. It'd probably just reproduced asexually with no, err, human DNA harvesting required. Spidey breathed a sigh of relief. The Bugle didn't pay him enough for Venom's child support...

Wait. An evil alien that reproduced asexually? If someone didn't do something fast, the whole planet could be up to its ears in symbiotes! Oh man, it was the Matthew Broderick Godzilla all over again!

Spider-Man made a dive for the red symbiote, but Venom blocked his path, snarling. “Touch our baby, and we will make you regret it.” Looked like he'd gone into full “mama bear” mode.

“Aww, but I was just trying to give him my baby shower gift.” Spidey fumbled through his utility belt, but he was fresh out of gene cleanser. Great, the rest was still webbed up under his bedroom desk, and something told Spidey he didn't have time for a quick commute home.

Venom ignored the Web-Head, instead crouching to scoop up the red slime in his hands. “Shh... It's alright, little one. We've got you.” The ooze sifted around in his fingers, feeling out its surroundings. “Come on, let's find you a host.” Venom glanced at the unconscious Electro for a moment, but he seemed to decide against it. Good, the world wasn't ready for the rise of “Velectrom.”

Suddenly, the big old mouth on Venom's stomach opened up, lapped up the red slime with its oversized tongue, and then smoothed back over. It was like a kangaroo pouch, only… freakier. The next instant, Venom was darting down the hall.

“Hey, wait up!” Spider-Man gave chase, but he could only go so fast on foot, and there wasn't exactly room to web-swing in here. “I, uh, don't suppose it's too much to hope you happened to be pregnant and dying?”

“We feel better than ever, thanks for asking,” Venom called back as he turned the corner. “And good news – since we've still got a long life ahead of us after all, we can keep on dedicating it to ruining yours!”

“Y'know, the true meaning of Easter is forgiveness...” Spidey fired a web, but he wasn't great at hitting a moving target.

“Oh, don't worry, we'll be getting into the Easter spirit soon enough.”

Spider-Man rounded the corner, but Venom had already vanished. Dang it! Where could he have run off to? Spidey skimmed the hallway's doors. Venom had to have gone through one of these. Hmm... Knowing Venom, he'd want to give his newborn baby a host ASAP so they could gang up on Spidey. But not just any poor schmuck would do – It'd have to be someone with plenty of negative emotions for the red symbiote to feed off of.

But who…?

Cletus struggled against the webbing, but it wouldn't budge. This was so unfair! All Cletus had wanted was to chop a nurse into tiny bits! Was that too much to ask? If… If Cletus could just get to the spare shiv hidden up his sleeve, then maybe he could escape and catch that spider-person off guard. Cletus had never killed a superhero before. Now there was an exciting thought.

But before he could even get close to his shiv, Cletus found the webbing ripped off his mouth by a set of black claws. “W-Wha-?”

“Hey there, Cletus.” A big, dark figure descended from the ceiling, giving Cletus a toothy grin. “We told you it'd come back for us.”

“The alien?” Cletus's eyes widened with awe. “Brock's alien? You're here? I'm not just seeing things again?”

“For once, no.” The alien leaned in closer, inspecting him with its gooey, white eyes. “Say, Cletus, you were pretty enthusiastic about getting an alien of your own, weren't you? If you were hypothetically to receive this alien... would you help us kill Spider-Man?”

“Yes! Yes!” If Cletus's heart thumped any faster, it'd burst. “I'll kill! I'll kill lots!”

“That's what we like to hear.” The next thing Cletus knew, a second, larger mouth was forming on the alien's stomach... which promptly puked all over Cletus's face.

Cold. Cold, cold, but... a good kind of cold. The kind of cold than enveloped your entire body. Cletus was suffocating! He was- No... No, it was breathing for him.... His vision had gone red, and Cletus's head was throbbing, but somehow he didn't mind. He could feel it in his head. He... He wasn't alone anymore.

The answer had hit Spider-Man like a ton of bricks. Who had more negative emotions than a serial killer?

“Eddie, stop, you can't-” He was too late. By the time he reached the hall where he'd left Cletus, Venom was already standing before the remains of Spidey's web-cocoon. And something was emerging from it... Something big and red. “Eddie.” Spider-Man took a step backwards. “You didn't.”

“What?” smirked Venom, patting his son on the shoulder. “We thought Cletus could use a partner, and we found someone just perfect for him.”

“Thanks, eHarmony,” Spidey deadpanned.

Cletus took a shaky step forward. Hoo boy. With all the craziness going on in his life, sometimes it was hard for Peter to truly appreciate the fact that one of his rogues gallery was an actual alien from outer space. The big, lanky, red thing was... Well, it wasn't just a recolored Venom. It had the same face, the same white eyes, but other than that, it didn't really look like the black Spider-Man costume at all. In place of the white spider symbol, there were pitch black “veins” running through the thing's chest. Other features included razor sharp fingertips, little wriggling tentacles coming out its back, and a frankly absurd amount of teeth. Like, how many fangs did it really take to rip someone to shreds? Sheesh.

“We told you we'd be getting into the Easter spirit,” said Venom. “You be Jesus... We'll be the Romans.”

“Cutting! Cutting! Cutting!” Cletus lunged-

“Whoa nelly- Gah!” -and Spider-Man failed miserably at dodging. He found himself tackled and pinned against the floor. Man, for a newborn, the red symbiote was fast. Oh, and, naturally, it'd inherited its dad's spider-sense immunity. “Cletus, no! Cutting bad! Cutting very bad!”

“Cutting! Cutting! Chop, chop, chop!” It was all Spider-Man could do to grab onto Cletus's slime-covered arms and keep those razor-sharp fingertips away from his beautiful face.

“That's our boy,” Venom grinned, crawling towards them on all fours. “But let's keep him alive a bit longer, shall we? We don't want it over too soon.”

“Are you kidding?” laughed Cletus. “The killing's the best part. Watch this!” At his words, his fingers started to twist and stretch, and the longer they grew, the closer the distressingly sharp tips got to our hero's face. “Now hold still.”

“Whoops! Sorry!” But Spidey freed himself with a sudden swing of his leg, sending the alien-lunatic duo flying into the far wall. “I always get 'hold still' confused with 'kick me in the face.'”

“Are you okay?” Venom rushed to his baby's side, but Cletus managed to peel himself out of his crater all on his own.

“I'm getting a little impatient,” he hissed. Huh. No 'royal we?' Guess that was just Venom's shtick. “I say we chop him to bits and be done with it.”

Spidey felt it was a good time to dive for a nearby window.

“Uh-uh-uh, no escaping, spider.” But a set of red tentacles grabbed his ankles and yanked him back to the floor.

Spider-Man squirmed against the red slime, but he couldn't stop it from reeling him towards Cletus like the catch of the day. “Ow! Hey!” He tried to rip the slime off, but Cletus's tentacles felt different from Venom’s. Venom's slime was sticky, probably because it was used to copying Spider-Man's webs. Cletus’s, on the other hand, actually left Spidey with gashes on his hand where he tried to grab it. The red symbiote was... sharp?

“Alright, we've got him.” Suddenly, Venom placed himself between the monster and its victim. “Now let's make him watch as we pick off his loved ones!”

Cletus's white eyes shifted so he was giving Venom a dry stare. “Why bother? Once he's dead, he's dead.”

“See, now there's a pragmatism too much of my rogues gallery is missing.” Spidey seized the distraction to burst out of the slime. Note to self – Breaking out of the sharp red symbiote slime was possible, but also very, very painful. “Ow, ow, ow...” Spidey dived out a window, and this time the aliens were too off-guard to catch him.

As soon as he was in the air, Spider-Man shot a web to a nearby building and swung off, clutching his chest. When this was all said and done, his costume wasn't the only thing that'd need to be sewn up...

The aliens, of course, immediately swung after him on their own symbiote webs. Good, now Spider-Man just needed to lead them somewhere with no civilians around... Preferably somewhere noisy. Maybe back to that church with the bell-

“Ugh, this is boring!” Suddenly, Celtus dropped down onto the sidewalk, causing Spidey and Venom to halt their swinging. Spidey stuck to the side of a building to observe from afar, while Venom landed next to his kid.

“What are you doing?” Venom hissed. “You said you'd help kill Spider-Man!”

“He moves too fast!” Cletus let out a petulant groan. “Can't I kill someone else? How about... that guy over there?” He shot his head towards a random bystander, who'd been busy gaping at them. The instant Cletus made eye contact, the man ran for it, but a red tentacle shot after him.

Spidey was just about to leap into action... but Venom beat him to the punch.

“Stop it!” He grabbed the tendril until the pedestrian was out of harm's way. “We don't want to kill anyone else! Only Spider-Man and his loved ones!”

“Well, now you're just being close-minded.” Cletus shot a tendril off in the opposite direction from Spidey. “Look, I've got better things to be doing. Go kill the spider-guy on your own.”

“Get back here! We're your parent and you will listen to us!”

But Cletus had already swung off.

“Aww, they grow up so fast.” Spider-Man hopped down next to Venom.

“What... What have I done?” For the slightest of moments, the alien quality in Venom's voice was gone – It was just Eddie talking.

“Oh, so now you realize hurting innocent people is bad.” Under his mask, Peter scowled. “You seemed fine with dangling Gwen off a balloon.”

Venom stayed silent, hiding his face. When he didn't reply, Spider-Man turned away and web-swung after Cletus.

Spidey didn't have time to deal with Venom right now. As much of a jerk as he was, he at least never attacked random civilians. Cletus, on the other hand... A serial killer backed by symbiote-power? The thought made Spider-Man’s stomach churn.

Luckily, by the time Spidey found Cletus, he was surrounded by a squad of New York's finest. The officers were decked out in full-on riot gear, tranquilizer guns at the ready. Oh, good, Gwen had remembered to tell her dad to bring plenty of tranq gas. Spider-Man perched himself on a rooftop a safe distance away and watched the gas do its thing. Now they just had to wait for the spawn of Venom's loins to pass out, and the NYPD could haul his unconscious keister to the Vault where he couldn't hurt anyone. Beautiful.

Soon enough, Cletus was enveloped by a noxious green cloud. Unfortunately, after a minute, there was a distressingly low amount of “dropping unconscious” and a distressingly high amount of “laughing maniacally” going on.

“I hope you weren't expecting me to go down that easy.” Through the fumes, Spider-Man could make out the symbiote's face – or lack thereof. His regular mouth had been smoothed over with red, and now instead he was talking out of a big mouth on his stomach. Great, of all the tricks he could've learned from his dad…

Wait a tick. If the NYPD's knockout gas was useless, then those officers were defenseless! No sooner had the thought struck Spider-Man than a swarm of red tendrils shot towards the police.

“Oh, that can't be good.” He swung towards them as fast as he could, but by the time Spider-Man reached ground level, Cletus was already hurling officers around like rag dolls.

“You can't stop me.” As the last of the gas cleared, Cletus's tummy-mouth vanished and his regular one returned. “I'm just an aspect of the rule that governs everything – chaos. I'm going to show you just how worthless your lives really are. I'm going to make a trail of corpses from here to the Pacific.” He pulled himself to his full stature. “I'm Carnage!”

“Blah blah blood blah blah murder!” The next instant, Spider-Man gave Carnage a nice, strong punch to the kisser – even knocking lose a couple teeth. “Look, I'm sure people found you very edgy back in the nineties, but-”

“You again?” Carnage went skidding, but he quickly regained his stance. “You're not going to quit trying to stop me, are you?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? Who do I think I am, a superhero?”

Carnage shot another halfhearted tendril at him, but Spider-Man effortlessly dodged. “You jump around too much. Killing you's not worth the trouble.” Suddenly, Carnage spun around and fired a particularly sharp-looking tendril at a random officer.

“No!” Spider-Man tried to tackle the tentacle out of the way, but he was too slow. The sharp bit was coming right for the poor officer's face at lighting speed... but then it was blocked by a giant, pitch black figure.

“That's enough!” yelled Venom. “We want Spider-Man. These people have nothing to do with him.”

“Oh, come on!” Carnage threw his hands in the air. “You won't even let me kill police officers? You're the worst dad ever!”

Under the mask, Peter blinked. Was... Was Venom actually saving innocent people? Well, Peter was pretty sure the symbiote itself didn't have a conscience, so... that meant Eddie wasn't completely far gone after all. He was a total nutjob, but at least he didn't want to hurt innocents. It was like Venom was some sort of... lethal protector. No, wait, that sounded stupid.

“If you won't kill Spider-Man, then we'll wrench our child from your corpse and give it to someone who will!” Venom pounced, and suddenly he and Carnage were rolling around in a great big cartoon smoke ball full of claws and teeth and slime and tentacles. Oh man, an alien vs. alien showdown. If those two kept at it, they'd tear up all of Westchester.

Venom and Carnage had made themselves a nice little crater in the middle of the street, thought at least the pedestrains had run out of harm's way by now. Well… most of them.

“You know, Spidey,” Venom called out as a set of black tendrils tossed a couple more stragglers out of Carnage’s range, “for a quote-unquote ‘superhero,’ you don’t seem to be pulling your weight here.”

“Oh, no, you don't get to be all self-righteous, Eddie!” Spider-Man snapped. “You put a super-powered alien on a crazed serial killer who's currently going on a murder spree with it.”

At this, Venom's face hardened. “Fine,” he said, “since you're such a selfless hero, you'll have no problem fighting Carnage on your own.” He swung off without another word. So much for “lethal protector.”

“Finally, he leaves.” Without a big, musclebound alien dad to distract him, Carnage turned his full attention on Spider-Man. “Now it's just you and me.”

“Oh, so you're gonna fight me after all?” Spider-Man pounced, fist raised...

“Nope!” Thwip.

...and was promptly webbed to the side of the building by red slime. Had Spidey mentioned how bad he was at dodging without his spider-sense?

“There we go.” Carnage looked tempted to cut Spidey's throat then and there, but he apparently thought better of it. “Maybe killing a superhero's not so much fun after all... Probably got indestructible skin or somethin'... Now then, time to go paint the town red.” With that, he swung off, too.

“Hey! Get back here!” Spider-Man struggled against the slime, but it was no good. By the time he broke free – which, by the way, stung like crazy thanks to Carnage's “sharp webbing” – Carnage was already out of sight. No.

Spider-Man swung after Carnage as fast as his webs would allow. He'd never lost a civilian to a supervillain, and he sure as heck wasn't about to start now.

A spontaneous marathon had broken out in the streets of Westchester. Every which way, civilians were stampeding, their screams filling the air.

But not every civilian was exactly in peak stampeding condition. Which was how something red and slimy ended up wrapping itself around the ankle of a shrieking, flailing elderly man and dragging him backwards over the pavement.

“Aww, what’s the matter, old timer?” Next thing he knew, the man was strung upside-down. “Legs not as spry as they used to be?”

The man was withered and balding, and if his hair hadn’t been white before, it certainly was now.

“Here, let old Dr. Carnage have a look...” The monster made a show of inspecting his calves.

The old man’s pulse pounded in his ears. The blood was rushing to his head. He had to stay calm. Had to-

That's when he caught sight of something off in the distance. It was Spider-Man, and he was coming in fast. The man’s pulse slowed the slightest amount. Good, good, if Spider-Man was here, things couldn't really be that bad.

The old man just wished Spider-Man coulda gotten here a few seconds sooner, that was all.

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” the monster shook its head, grave. It raised a red arm into the air, and the next thing the man knew, its hand was morphing... “This is bad.” ...into an ax. “I'm afraid we'll have to amputate.”

Chapter Text

Working for hours on end was always monotonous, even in the emergency room. There were only so many dramatic injuries doctors could rush off to treat before it all started to blend together. But nobody, not a single doctor, nurse, or toddler throwing up Kool-Aid would ever forget the time a kid in a tattered and bloodied Spider-Man costume burst through the entrance doors, carrying half a person in his arms. It was some poor elderly man, his face contorted in a valiant effort not to scream, wrapped in gray goo that grew redder by the second.

“This- This guy needs help,” the kid in the Spider-Man costume stammered out. He just stood there, dazed, until a nurse rushed over to take the man from him.

“What is that?” she asked, eyeing the web-covered stumps.

“I had to- to stop the bleeding.” As soon as his hands were free, the kid dashed for the doors. “Look, I gotta go. There's a monster... alien... thing.” Just before leaving, he glanced back and added, “You, uh, might be pretty busy today.”

And then, as suddenly as he'd appeared, the kid in the Spider-Man costume was gone.

The instant he was outside the hospital, Peter rolled up his mask and puked his guts out into the bushes. He tried his best to tune out all the passerby staring at a sobbing, hysterical Spider-Man.

Look, this wasn't Peter's first time dropping someone off at the ER. This was Manhattan. There were traffic accidents, shootouts... Things had gotten grisly before. But this... this was different. It was... intentional. Spider-Man had battled truckloads of supervillains since last summer, but this was the first time one had- Y'know what? No, Carnage wasn't even a supervillain. Supervillains traded banter and took hostages and swore revenge and plotted to take over the world. They didn't just butcher random people willy-nilly. Heck, even Walter Hardy had only been trying to steal a car. He hadn't killed for fun.

Peter glanced down at himself – specifically at the big, wide gashes across his chest. The price he'd payed to stop a helpless bystander from getting hacked to pieces. He hurriedly webbed himself up before he could lose any more blood.

Peter forced some deep breaths. He had to do this. This was what he'd signed up for when he'd decided to put on the costume and swing around stopping purse snatchers. There'd be no running back to his bedroom to hide. No waiting for the Fantastic Four to show up and save the day. No time for gene cleansers or church bells or any other tricks. He had to do this. He could've returned the black costume to Connors right away, and then none of this would've happened. Peter's fault. Peter's responsibility.

Thwip. A web-strand stuck itself to a far-off skyscraper. Spider-Man had saved that civilian, but he'd done it by running away, meaning Carnage had been left unchecked. Time to put a stop to that.

Spider-Man swung through the streets as fast as his webs would carry him. Carnage wouldn't be that hard to track. Spidey just had to look for the telltale signs of his presence – earsplitting shrieks, crowds of pedestrians running like mad-

“Oh Jesus.”

-and the words “CARNAGE RULES” painted on the side of a building in blood, complete with red arrows pointing out directions beneath the words “THIS WAY, SPIDER-MAN.” There was even a little blood-doodle of Carnage slicing off Spidey's head. Lovely.

The arrows led Spider-Man around the side of a building. When he reached the words “YOU'RE HERE” on the pavement, Spidey's heart stopped. Okay, good news and bad news. The good news was, as far as Spider-Man could see, there were no bodies lying in the middle of the street. The bad news was that what was in the middle of the street was a massive, intricate red spider web. And a huge web in the middle of one of New York's busier roads was a recipe for hordes of cars all trapped like flies, their passengers struggling to escape as red tendrils wrapped around their doors. Some of the cars had even been lifted into the air, several feet off the ground.

“Oh, there you are!” Carnage called down from his perch at the top. “Good to see you followed my instructions without any trouble.”

Spider-Man ignored him, wordlessly hopping to the nearest SUV in the web and setting to work freeing the terrified driver.

“I've been thinking-” As he spoke, Carnage sent out a red tendril to smack Spidey away. “-with you superhero types always up in my business, I don't really have time to savor each and every death the way I'd like. I was a little miffed at first, but then I realized... go big or go home!” He showed off his impressive collection of teeth. “So instead of picking people off one by one until someone stops me, I'm just gonna harvest as many as I can and then squeeze the life outta 'em all at once! It's like an arcade game. Sure, you're gonna game over eventually, but you've gotta aim for the high score, y'know?”

With a bit of struggling, Spider-Man managed to free a man and a woman from their van, fighting off Carnage's tentacles long enough for them to flee.

“Aww, what's wrong, spider?” Carnage hopped over to Spider-Man's side. “Aren't you gonna crack some jokes?”

Spider-Man stayed silent, only scowling at Carnage for a moment before jumping to the next van.

“Fine, I guess I'll tell the jokes.” With a sudden lurch, Carnage's arm stretched like a snake, smashed through the window, and yanked something out of the van. “Why'd the baby cross the road?” Carnage proudly held up an infant car seat... complete with bawling infant.

“You touch a single hair on that kid's head and I swear to God I'll-!” Spider-Man pounced, but Carnage sidestepped him.

“What?” said Carnage, idly morphing his free hand back into an ax. “Don't you wanna hear the punchline?” Spider-Man fired both his shooters, but Carnage's tendrils whipped the webs away.

By this point, the baby was shrieking so hard, his face was bright red. “Momma! Momma!” But back inside the trapped car, his mother could do nothing but watch helplessly, her eyes wide with horror.

Carnage raised his ax-blade into the air. His voice was barely audible over the child's screams: “To prove it had guts!” The blade fell-

Thwip.

-and collided with empty air. At the last second, the baby's car seat had been snatched away by a black tendril.

“What the-?” Carnage spun his head around to find Venom standing outside the web, the van in one hand, the baby in the other.

“Here.” Gently, Venom returned the van to solid ground and handed the baby to its hysterical mother. As soon as her child was safely inside, the mother sped off. With it gone, Venom hopped back onto the web next to Spidey.

“Eddie-” Spider-Man began.

“Talk about disappointing!” Carnage let loose a cackle. “Here I'd thought you were like me, 'Dad,' but it turns out you're just a big softie. You're no different from the boyscout over here!” He took a swipe at Spider-Man, who tumbled out of the way.

“Peter, listen!” said Venom, his milky eyes narrowing. “Our child is stronger than us – We were born on another planet, but Carnage gestated in Earth's more hospitable atmosphere. If we're going to stop it, we need to exploit our species' weakness.”

“What, vibrations?” frowned Spidey, ducking a slimy red ax blade. “Could we lure him back to the church bell?”

“You know I can hear you, right?” said Carnage.

“No, not vibrations.” Venom fired a black tendril, but Carnage darted further down the web out of earshot. “Our kind has another weakness, one easier to produce – fire. Carnage is a newborn, so he couldn't have known about it, or else he wouldn't have trapped himself in a big, flammable web.”

“So we light this thing up, and the symbiote jumps off him?” said Spider-Man. “Sounds like a plan. Just as soon as we get everyone in the cars to safety first.”

Venom snorted. “You really are a boyscout.” With that, he started after Carnage's trail. “We'll hold off our child. Save as many people as you can, then look for a flame source.”

“Will do.”

That wouldn't be too hard. In fact, after only a couple minutes of saving people, Spider-Man stumbled across just what he was looking for: a cab that reeked of smoke.

“Hold still, pal.” With a quick tug of his webs, Spidey got the driver out of his seat. As he dropped him off away from the web, Spider-Man said, “Hey, weird question, but can I borrow a lighter?”

“Yeah, o' course.” The cab driver retrieved a little metal doohickey from his pocket. Then, he looked from Spider-Man back to the center of the symbiote-web, where the red and black aliens were busy duking it out. “Y'know what? Here.” He handed over a whole pack of cigarettes. “You need ’em more than me.”

“Trust me, there aren't enough drugs in the world for what I go through.” Spidey handed them back. He already got way too much smoke just from hanging around Jameson...

Spider-Man returned to the center of the web to find Venom in a headlock.

“Lucky me!” said Carnage, raising his ax-hand high. “Never thought I'd get to commit patricide again.”

“Eddie, everyone's off the web!” Spider-Man held the lighter up for Venom to see.

“Finally.” With a sudden swipe of his arm, Venom ripped open an empty car and yanked out the tank, sending gasoline spewing every which way.

“Hey, Cletus, you like arson, right?” Spidey flicked on the lighter and tossed it in. He was kind of expecting a massive, movie-worthy fireball, but Spidey would have to settle for a nice, slow burn.

“The- The fire!” As the flames grew higher, Carnage's eyes grew wider. “It feels... unpleasant.” Suddenly, a shriek emanated not just from its mouth, but from the symbiote's entire being. It couldn't jump off Cletus fast enough. “No! No, wait, come back!” Cletus fought as hard as he could, clawing at the red slime, but it was seeping away like a liquid. “Come back! It's just a little fire! We can still- We can still-”

His head spun towards Venom. By now there were bits of red hair and pale skin peeking out of Carnage's face. “We can still kill you.”

Eddie's symbiote didn't seem too thrilled by the heat, either, but before he could swing away, a red tendril grabbed Venom's ankle.

“Where do you think you're going, 'Dad?'” With a tug, Cletus sent the whole mess of psychopaths and aliens spiraling down to the pavement below.

“Hold on, Eddie, I got you!” Thwip. With a dive, a web, and a prayer, Spidey managed to catch... Cletus. What a relief.

“Give it back! I need it! I need my alien!” Apparently, bonding with an evil alien hadn't done wonders for Cletus's sanity. Spidey had to web him up just to stop him from thrashing around like a landlocked fish.

“That oughta hold you.” Once Cletus was securely webbed up on a rooftop, Spider-Man jumped back down for Eddie. By now, the whole symbiote web was a flaming mass in the middle of the street. Luckily, Spidey had made sure all the cars were evacuated, and he could already hear the fire trucks in the distance. Unluckily, Venom had landed smack in the middle of the flames, and now Eddie was flailing around, screaming his lungs out as the black slime wriggled and thrashed.

Spider-Man hesitated outside the fire. What should he do? What could he do?

Before he could make up his mind, Spidey felt something brush his foot. “Oh, you.” He glanced down to see a red puddle wriggling away as fast as it could. “No you don't!” A hastily-spun web-cocoon would keep the Carnage symbiote nice and snug until Spidey could figure out what to do with it.

“Peter!” Spider-Man flinched at the sound of his name. Eddie had apparently toppled over, his legs trapped in the shapeless black slime. The ooze darted away from the flames long enough for Spidey to see Eddie's terrified face.

Wait... Of course! Spider-Man's heart skipped a beat. If symbiotes were just as weak to fire as they were to vibrations, then being trapped in flaming rubble was like Eddie's own church bell! The problem was, whereas Cletus's newborn symbiote had dived right off him, Eddie's was stuck a bit tighter.

“Eddie, listen to me!” Spider-Man risked running through the flames so he could tug on the black slime. Usually, the symbiote stayed glued to its host, but with the fire mere feet away, it was stretching like taffy. “You've gotta get this thing off you!”

“P-Pete...” Eddie's eyes didn't look quite as lucid as Spidey would've hoped.

“The symbiote screws with your head. I went through the same thing, and I got it off. You have to fight it!” It was no good. The harder Spider-Man pulled, the harder the symbiote squeezed. Even with the flames nearby, it was clamping down on Eddie like a boa constrictor.

Spidey was sweating a fountain over here. After a minute, he was forced to let go. The moment it was freed, the symbiote engulfed Eddie's whole body, solidifying into a big, black cocoon.

“Eddie, can you hear me?” Spider-Man punched it as hard as he could, but all that accomplished was bruising his knuckles. “Eddie! Eddie? Ed...”

That voice... sounded like it was underwater...

“Eddie? Eddie, can you hear me?”

Eddie felt like he was underwater, too. He was weightless... in a black void... Mind was a haze. Nothing but flashes of Spider-Man and Venom and a red monster-

A red monster? Carnage's bloodstrained grin burned behind Eddie's eyes. The monster. It... It'd slaughtered people. Ripped them apart like they were made of paper. And Eddie had... had made the monster.

A black creature flashed through his mind. Eddie was the monster. No, no, that couldn't be right. Eddie was innocent. Peter was the monster. Peter was... was...

A boy shrieking as he clutched his legs. An infant wailing as the red monster hoisted it into the air. “Why'd the baby cross the road?”

Suddenly, Venom was standing on a rooftop, overlooking a massive spider web. It felt so vivid, so real, except that the whole world was grayscale. Down below, Spider-Man and Carnage stood across from each other, and in Carnage's claws was a terrified child, hardly bigger than a football.

Venom tried to turn his back, but... he couldn't tear his eyes away.

“Momma!” The baby struggled to escape Carnage's grasp, but it was helpless. “Momma!”

“I want my mom.”

The next thing he knew, Eddie was a little boy sitting above the covers, and in his arms was an even littler boy. His face was buried so deep in Eddie's shoulder, it hurt.

“I know, Pete,” Eddie said softly. “I know.” Behind his big, round glasses, Peter's eyes moved towards a muted TV on the far side of the room. Onscreen, a news banner proclaimed, Flight 264 down over the Atlantic. “I want mine, too. Do... Do you get it, Pete? Do you get what's happened to us? We're the same now.” Eddie squeezed his hand. “We're brothers.”

Peter nodded.

And in the blink of an eye, the whole black-and-white world changed again, and now Eddie was a little boy sitting at a kitchen table, a plate of uneaten cookies before him. In the seats across from him, a white-haired couple was speaking in hushes voices over a stack of papers.

“You know we want you to be happy, Eddie. Really, we do. It's just...” The woman faltered.

“We have to do what's best for you,” the man said firmly. “Believe me, kiddo, the last thing we want is to separate you and Peter, but a growing boy needs food, clothes… stability. You shouldn't have to wonder if you'll have electricity each month.” He gave Eddie a sad smile. “You deserve so much more than we can give you.”

“You… You really think this is best for me, Mr. Parker?”

The man nodded. “I really do.”

In a flash, the world changed again, and the smiling old man was replaced with a bald, snarling one. Now Eddie was a teenager with messy blond hair and a black jacket, standing defiantly in the middle of the hallway.

“You stole someone's car, took it for a joyride, and then wrecked it?”

“Didn't steal it,” Eddie mumbled, glancing away. “The guy let me borrow it.”

The bald man snorted. “Jesus Christ, no wonder no one ever wants to adopt you.”

And in another blink of an eye, the foster home was replaced with the front doors of Midtown High. Now Eddie was taller, less scraggly, with Gwen and Peter hovering at his sides.

“Empire State, huh?” said Gwen.

“Crazy, right?” Eddie nodded. “I'll introduce you to the Connors someday. They're good people.” He smiled, but his eyes stayed somber. “Wish you guys could be there.”

“Hey, we've only got one more year, bro.” Peter laughed, fidgeting with his glasses. “It's not like it'll be the end of life as we know it.”

The memory changed even faster this time, like lightning. “Shut it.” Eddie was tumbling to the ground, and looming over him was the timid little boy – only his glasses had been traded for a black t-shirt, and suddenly he didn't look so timid anymore. “We're tired of your whining.”

By the time Eddie was back on his feet, the black and white world had changed once again. Now there was nothing but a void... and a black creature standing at the head of it, a white spider symbol on its chest.

“I can't believe you bought it all those years.” Venom stepped forward, outstretching a black hand. “You were never brothers. You were never the same. He had his precious aunt and uncle. What did you have, Eddie Brock?”

“I...” Eddie took a step back. “I...”

“You've got more than you think, kiddo,” said a voice.

The dream changed again. Now Eddie was a little boy sitting on the porch outside Peter's house, and seated beside him was a white-haired man.

“Yeah?” Eddie let out a huff. “Like what?”

For a moment, the man was silent. “Y'know,” he finally said, “May and I have been married for, oh, goin' on forty years, and we've always wanted kids.” He shut his eyes. “And look what we have now.” His eyes pointed to the window. Inside, Eddie could see Peter's aunt handing him another tray of cookies. “A little squirt who needs us.”

“Yeah.” Eddie folded his arms. “But I guess a second little squirt's too much for you...”

Ben sighed. “My point is, there are plenty of people out there ready to love a kid in need.”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie glanced away. “A little kid. No one wants someone as old as me.”

At this, Ben frowned. “Y'know, Eddie, sometimes you've just gotta deal with the hand you've been dealt.” He met Eddie's eyes. “It's not easy, and not fair, but it's the way it is. At the end of the day, no one's responsible for your life but you.”

The memories changed one last time. Eddie was Venom once again, watching Carnage lob an ax at a helpless child.

“To prove it had guts!”

Thwip. At the last second, the ax was knocked away by a black tendril. Carnage and the baby vanished in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the hulking form of Venom. Looking at it from the outside... those fangs, those claws... How could he have not realized before?

“You did this!” Eddie pointed an accusing finger. “You created Carnage! You didn't care how many innocent people he killed so long as he hurt Peter! You- You tried to kill Gwen!”

“Eddie, Eddie, listen to what you're saying. The only monster here is Peter. You know that. We’re your family. We’re your brother.”

“No!” Eddie swung a fist, sending Venom tumbling backwards. “I'm sick of using Peter as a scapegoat! What happens once we get revenge on him, huh? Is that gonna make us any less miserable?”

“Well, we WERE going to get filthy rich working for Tombstone, so there's that...”

“Working for a criminal?” Eddie raised his fist for another blow. “You're not even trying to hide it anymore. You're the monster. Peter was-” His breath caught in his throat. “Peter was your first host. He didn't start acting like trash until... until you bonded to him.”

Peter's words echoed around the memory-world:

“We're tired of your whining.”

“We're tired of your whining.”

“We're tired of your whining.”

“And he was wearing a black shirt that day.” Eddie's eyes narrowed. “Where have I seen that before?”

“In our defense-” Venom prowled towards him on all fours. “-you were being REALLY whiny. How were we supposed to know we’d bond to you later? See, Peter was stupid enough to reject our gift, but you, Eddie… we’d always thought you were smarter than that.”

“Get off me.” Eddie tried to flail his arms, and suddenly he could feel the slime around himself. The claustrophobia hit him like a tidal wave. “Get off me!”

Not a good idea. Now the dream-Venom was gone, nothing but a voice in Eddie's head. See, with those powers of his, Peter had more than enough strength to break our bond and survive unscathed. But you, Eddie Brock... You are nothing but a weak, ordinary little boy.

“Get off me!” Eddie could swear he was shrieking at the top of his lungs, but no sound came out. “Get off me!”

So, well... The symbiote chuckled to itself. Let's just say you can't live with us... you can't live without us.

For a moment, the world was nothing but blackness.

“Eddie! Eddie!” And then something bright red and blue broke its way through.

“P... Pete...” Eddie was only dimly aware of his surroundings, but he could feel himself being wrenched from the cocoon.

“I got you, Eddie, I got you...” His vision was all fuzzy, but Eddie could definitely feel Peter's arms around him. “C'mon, let's get you to a hospital.”

“Pete, I...” His mouth barely worked, but Eddie forced the sounds out. “I'm...” The effort was too much. “...sorry...” The world was growing black again. “...b...”

Peter honestly didn't know if this was better or worse. Eddie had traded his alien symbiote for a hospital bed and tubes in his nose. All Peter could do now was sit at the bedside and listen to the beeping of the heart rate monitor as his hand clamped harder and harder over Gwen's. For a moment, the hospital room was silent, save for the soft beeping of machinery.

“Well,” Gwen said, “at least he can’t blurt out your secret ID anymore…”

“Yeah... Guess that's something.” Peter's voice had never sounded so dull and lifeless. His eyes stayed fixed on Eddie even once Gwen put an arm around him.

“You okay?” she murmured in his ear.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking...” Peter turned to meet her gaze. “You were right, you know. Sure, it could’ve gone better, but… I don’t think our Ravencroft trip was a waste of time after all.”

Gwen took this in silently. “You think Eddie will be okay when… if… he wakes up?”

Peter’s eyes hadn’t left hers. Nor would they in the near future. “I hope so.”

The two of them stayed that way a moment. There was something almost picturesque about it.

“The- The symbiotes,” Gwen eventually said. “There’s no way they could’ve escaped that fire. They’re dead, right?”

At this, Peter could only bow his head. “Right.”

Something black and slimy scurried through the grungy sewer pipeline. The symbiote’s speed had greatly increased since it bonded to that rat. That was about the most complex lifeform it could bond with right now. That fire had… had taken so much out of it. The symbiote needed to rest. It needed to get to safety.

Back into the darkness.

Something red and slimy roared through the clouds. It flew above the trees, but just barely. As it turned out, the weight of the symbiote prevented the pigeon from flying too incredibly high. But that didn’t stop it from trying. Up it went.

Up towards the light.

Working for hours on end was always monotonous, even in a mental hospital. Yes, the battle between Spider-Man and those supervillains had shaken things up a bit, but by now Ravencroft had returned to its usual tedium.

“No, please, give it back! I need it! It chose me! The- The black thing chose me!” Right now, for instance, a pair of nurses were leading yet another straightjacket-wearing loon into her padded room. The woman was, naturally, fighting them every step of the way.

“Where'd this one come from?” a nurse asked as he narrowly avoided being elbowed in the face.

“No idea,” said his co-worker. “She came to visit that Eddie Brock guy right before the supervillains attacked. Must've triggered some sort of episode.”

The nurses had almost gotten their patient down the hallway when they bumped right smack into another straightjacket-wearing loon being led into his room.

For only a moment, the redheaded patient locked eyes with the raven-haired patient, and just like that, she clammed up.

“Well, hello, beautiful.” The redhead wet his lips.

“That's enough. Move along.” With that, the nurses hurried the raven-haired girl down the hallway.

The woman didn't make another noise until she was inside a room, being helped into a hospital bed. “I... I understand now,” she finally spoke. “It chose me. The black thing. It brought me here... to meet him.”

“Try and calm down, Miss...” The nurse glanced at his clipboard. “...Barrison.”

“No.” The nurse tried to rest her head on a pillow, but the woman squirmed out of his grasp. “No, you don't understand. It chose me! It chose me!”

A beat-up old teddy bear sat on the shelf across from the bed, giving an almost inquisitive stare to the redheaded man wriggling around in a straightjacket under the covers.

“Hello, Binky.” With a bit of effort, Cletus managed to sit up to meet the bear's button eyes. “Today was the best day of my life.”

Cletus giggled to himself, but his voice was barely audible over the sound of the raven-haired woman from down the hallway shrieking her lungs out.

Chapter Text

“We told you we'd be getting into the Easter spirit.”

A pair of hulking monsters. Sharp claws, way too many teeth. One pitch black, the other blood red.

“You be Jesus... We'll be the Romans.”

And there was so, so much red.

“Peter? Peter, are you alright?”

“Huh, what?” Peter snapped back into reality to find himself in the middle of the Parker household living room, an Easter basket on his lap, cold sweat on his forehead, and Aunt May giving him a concerned look. “Yeah, I'm good. Just spaced out for a second.”

“Peter...” The look changed to something more bittersweet. “If anything's the matter, you can tell me.”

For the briefest of moments, Peter was tempted. Strictly speaking, he could tell her what had happened to Eddie without giving away his secret identity... but why worry her?

“It's nothing, Aunt May. I'm fine.” It took a conscious effort to keep Peter's hands from shaking. “Totally fine.”

Normally, Gwen was quite guarded when it came to her phone calls. She’d clam up if her father so much as entered the same half of the house as her. But there was a chink in Gwen’s defenses – She’d needed to traverse the stairs to reach the bathroom below, and apparently her current conversation was far too important to be paused.

“...don’t know what to do, Mary Jane. Peter seemed so out of it all through Easter dinner yesterday.”

Captain Stacy would never eavesdrop, of course. Perish the thought. But, well, could he really help it if Gwen’s voice carried all the way to the kitchen? Or if it distracted him from his morning paper and coffee?

“Why? Oh, y’know...” There was a brief silence from the stairway. “Eddie’s coma really shook him up.” Another pause. “Yeah, it’s been hard on us both… Thanks, MJ. You’re sweet.”

Back at the kitchen counter, Captain Stacy stared into his mug. It couldn’t have been easy for Gwen to dance around Peter’s secret with her best friend like that. At least Gwen had her father to talk to about it – not that she often did. Gwen had been reluctant enough to discuss the subject of Peter Parker with him even before the kid could stick to walls.

“Well, if you’ve got any ways to cheer him up, I’m all ears.” There was one last pause from Gwen’s end. Followed by a yelp.

Captain Stacy’s eyes rose from his coffee. He could feel the heat of Gwen’s cheeks from all the way back here.

“M-Maybe I shouldn’t go that far...”

It was at this point that Captain Stacy found himself on his feet, calling out, “And how far would that be, Gwendolyn?”

“Daaaad!” There was the soft, rapid sound of slippers scurrying down the stairs, followed by the slam of the bathroom door.

“I meant metaphorically!” Mary Jane groaned into her phone. “Like, stroke his ego. Quickest way to get guys hooked on you, guaranteed.” There was a pause from MJ’s end. “What do you mean, that’s Tiger’s strategy? Gwen, he keeps telling you you’re hot because you are-” But just then, a new arrival made MJ glance up from her phone. “Oop, gotta go, girlfriend. My study buddy’s here.” At the next pause, MJ rolled her eyes into the speaker. “I told you, he’s just a buddy- I mean, just a friend. Anyways, later.” With that, she hung up.

Mary Jane had been camped out in the Midtown High theater magnet’s prop room, using a poofy old fairy queen dress as makeshift bedding, but she hopped off of it once the newcomer arrived.

“Well, you’re early.” Her eyes traveled over him like a computer scanner. “You certainly don’t keep a girl waiting, do you?”

“Y-Yeah. Ha. Guess not.” Weird. Put him in front of a crowd, and Hobie could rattle off monologue after monologue unimpeded, but stick him with one little gorgeous woman and suddenly he was a mess. His cornrows practically quivered.

“So, ready to ace these auditions?” MJ held up the stapled stack of papers in her other hand.

“Ready as I’ll ever be...” The guy was surprisingly soft-spoken given that football build of his. His voice was almost strained from disuse.

“Cool.” MJ prowled over, shut the door behind Hobie, and then leaned against the wall, script at the ready. “Here, let’s pick up where we left off with Glory. I’ll take Happy’s lines, seeing as its just the two of us this time...”

Hobie stood in place, stiff as a statue. “You sure I should try for Biff?”

“What, are you kidding? It’s bad enough we almost let you be a background extra the last time.” Mary Jane threw out smiles the same way fishermen threw out lures. “Seriously, Hobie, you killed it as Puck. You...” She trailed off.

Hobie blinked. “What?”

“Oh, sorry. Spaced out.” Okay, the combo meter was charged enough. Time for the finishing move. “It’s just, I didn’t notice before under all the green makeup, but your eyes are pretty. That super dark chestnut is, like, my favorite color.”

“T-Thanks.” Beat still, her heart – He was trembling. “So are yours. Pretty, I mean. Your eyes.”

A moment passed.

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” MJ gave the script a jostle. “We can talk when we’re dead. We got a scene to learn!”

“I don’t think that’s how that saying, err… Never mind.” Hobie cleared his throat, then began: “Hello, kid. Sorry I’m late.”

MJ put on a deeper, scratchier voice for the male part: “I just got here. Uh, Miss... ?” In the same breath, she swapped to her regular one: “Forsythe.” And then back. “Miss Forsythe, this is my brother.”

“I-Is Dad here?”

They carried on like that for a minute. A couple lines in, though, Mary Jane looked up from the page. “Hey, Hobie, constructive crit – I get your character’s supposed to be nervous, but you don’t have to overdo it. Unwind a little.”

“Yeah, thanks, thanks.” Hobie nodded his head a couple seconds longer than necessary.

MJ nodded back, then returned her gaze to the script. “Oh, I see. How do you do?” She turned her profile, showing it off. As specified by the stage directions.

“Isn’t Dad coming?” This time, Hobie’s voice shook a little less.

Mary Jane’s lips had been stretched thin. She leaned forward. “You want her?” Whoops, she’d forgot to put on the deeper voice.

Hobie drew back. “Oh, I could never make that...”

MJ giggled. “I remember the time that idea would never come into your head. Where’s the old confidence, Biff?”

“I-I just saw Oliver...”

“Wait a minute.” MJ brought a hand to his shoulder. Like her character would do. “I’ve got to see that old confidence again.” Not to brag, but Mary Jane’s striking emerald eyes could give those dark chestnut ones a run for their money. “Do you want her? She’s on call.”

“Oh, no,” said Hobie.

Spider-Man had swung halfway down the Queensboro Bridge when the Doc finally answered his phone.

“I’ll be blunt, Peter,” Curt was saying, “the fact that the symbiotes reproduce asexually doesn’t bode too well.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the Matthew Broderick Godzilla.”

“However, from what you’ve described to me, I think it’s very possible that the second symbiote’s birth wasn’t caused by ordinary circumstances. Your gene cleanser could've triggered some sort of 'pregnancy reflex,' acting as a species preservation mechanism in case the symbiote's immune system failed to purge it of the poison.”

“Well, I sure hope you’re right, Doc. I’ve got enough headaches without having to deal with an alien invasion…” They was no point fretting over this, anyways. The symbiotes were both dead now. Definitely.

Of course, Peter was one of a handful of people who now knew for a fact that intelligent life existed beyond the stars, so he was fully aware of the chance that a whole spaceship full of symbiotes might pay the Earth a visit one day… but any time that thought crossed Peter’s mind, he forced himself to go to his happy place.

The three-day weekend hadn’t been nearly enough time to recuperate. Heck, a hundred-day weekend wouldn’t have been enough time. Peter had hoped his classes would help keep his mind off things, but wouldn't you know it, the whole student body had been called down to some kind of special concert to celebrate the newly-repaired courtyard. You could hardly even tell evil spider-slaying robots had invaded it.

Peter rolled his eyes as a bunch of dorks in goofy costumes set up their instruments on the stage (not that Peter was one to throw stones). From the seat next to him, Gwen was frowning.

“You okay?” she asked. “You're being really quiet. It's kinda eerie.”

“Am I okay?” Peter repeated, burying his eyes. “What do you think?”

“Total honesty?” Gwen cocked a brow a him. “I think you need a therapist.”

“Gwen.” Peter surprised himself with the sharpness in his voice. “We've been over this. I can't go to therapy. It just wouldn't work out.”

“I know, I know...”

For a moment, to the two of them sat there, eyes on the stage.

“I love you.” But Gwen’s eyes weren’t on the stage for too long.

“You, too.” Peter gave her something resembling a smile.

“Look, Peter, I know everything’s going to be okay.” Gwen returned the expression. “Yeah, there was a close call this time, but you’d never lose people on your watch.”

“Tell that to Flint Marko…”

“That was outside your control, Peter.” Gwen’s hand clamped down over his. “Listen to me. You’re smart. The smartest guy I’ve ever met. And that didn’t come from the spider bite. I know we can work through this-”

“Look, Gwen, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the flattery...” Peter sighed. “...but I don’t think there’s some trick to magically make me go back to normal if that’s what you’re trying to-”

“And now, without further ado...” Just then, the couple’s attention returned to the stage, where one of the teachers was speaking into a mike: “...Midtown High gives a warm welcome to... the Mercy Killers!”

Holy moly, it was like Peter had stepped through a time portal to the seventies. Just... afros. Everywhere. So many afros. Why did the school system subject its students to this torture? Why?

Standing at the front and center of the madness was a the band's lead – At least, Peter assumed he was the lead given his afro was the biggest and most luscious of the bunch. And since that clearly wasn't straight enough, he also had on a white skintight outfit complete with a pair of goggled and a hot pink guitar.

“Evenin', ladies and gents,” the guy said as a giant disco ball descended from the top of the stage. “You ready for my mesmerizin' melodies?”

There was a prolonged silence. Someone in the audience coughed.

“...Okay, uh, let's get started! Everybody stare into the lights!” Without further ado, his music washed over the crowd:

“Well, you can tell by the way I like to dress,

I'm a supervillain – not hard to guess.

My music can control your brain.

When it's put like that, it sounds insane.

But that is alright, it's okay,

'Cuz now I got the perfect way,

To liven up this little bash.

I'm gonna steal all of your cash!”

The song picked up speed as the disco ball spun faster and faster, emmitting a gaudy neon light:

“Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,

You're hypno-hustled, hypno-hustled!

And it's just so funny how I'm stealin' all your money.

You been hypno-hustled, hypno-hustled!

Hyp, no, no, no, hypno-hustled, hypno-huslted!

Hyp, no, no, no, hypno-hustled, hypno-hustled!”

“Look, ignore the stupid school concert,” said Gwen, grabbing Peter's arm. “I’m sorry, Peter, I can give you some space if you need, but- but I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“W-Well, I appreciate that, but I’m not sure how much good you can do when I can't even close my eyes for two seconds without seeing blood and- and people’s limbs severed clean off of-”

“Hold that thought, Peter.” Gwen abruptly stood up. “I need to give the Hypno-Hustler my wallet.”

“What? Oh yeah, good idea.” Peter stood up, too. In fact, the whole auditorium was forming an orderly line to dump their wallets into a big sack one of the Mercy Killers crew members was carrying. Peter fished through his pockets, but he came up empty. “Whoops. Left mine in my locker. I'll be right back.”

“Okay, you do that,” said Gwen faintly. “I'm gonna stay here and... listen to the pretty music.” She started to drool.

The nearer Peter drew to his locker, the quieter the music grew, but he was so lost in thought, he hardly noticed. This was all Peter's fault. He'd kept the black costume. He'd been a jerk to Eddie. Heck, Peter had even fed Venom the gene cleanser that, according to Dr. Connors, had probably triggered some crazy asexual symbiote pregnancy reflex. Carnage existed because of Peter.

Peter slammed his locker shut. Ah, well, no point standing around moping. He needed to hurry back to the auditorium so he could hand over his wallet to the Hypno-

Wait.

“Oh my GOD, where do these people keep COMING FROM?”

“I wish I knew, Spider-Man.” Captain Stacy could offer nothing but a shrug as his men led every last member of the Mercy Killers out the school parking lot to the cop cars. “I wish I knew.”

A ceiling light flickered over the darkened cell, illuminating the form of a boy in a wheelchair. He faced the wall, listening intently as the sound of footsteps grew louder from down the hall. Each time the footsteps passed a cell, a new warning blared to life:

“Do not approach walls or door, or tranquilizing gas will be released to immobilize Gargan, comma, MacDonald.”

“Do not approach walls or door, or intense UV light will be released to neutralize Ohnn, comma, Jonathan.”

“Do not sing, hum, play an instrument, turn on a portable MP3 player, or tap your feet in a rhythmic fashion in such a manner that would be considered consistent with the pop culture phenomenon of the nineteen seventies known as 'disco,' or a pressurized vacuum will be created to prevent the movement of sound waves to and from Delsoin, comma, Antoine.”

Finally, the footsteps stopped.

“Do not approach walls or door, or a series of EMP pulses will be emitted to neutralize potential undetected nanotechnology within Alistair, comma, Smythe.”

“Disable EMP,” said a voice. “Open the door.”

“Override accepted.”

The cell door whirred open amid whispers of “Lucky jerk...” from the other supervillains.

Alistair looked up at his visitor, a smirk on his lips. “I wondered when you'd finally get around to bailing me out.”

Standing before him was a gray-haired man. Somehow, his face was both massively wrinkled and hard as stone. “If it was up to me, you'd never see the sun again. Osborn wanted you.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Which one?” He was met with silence. “Fine, be that way.” Alistair rolled himself to the man's side. “So where are we headed, Dad?”

“The Cayman Islands.”

“Ooh, sounds tropical.”

“You won't have time for sightseeing. You have a special assignment.”

“My favorite kind of assignment! So what is it?” Silence. “Well, don’t leave me in the dark here. Come on, at least give me a hint.”

The man's face was unmoving. “It involves spiders. And the slaying thereof.”

Alistair chuckled. “My favorite thing of all. Well, what are we waiting for?”

After that, there was silence, save for the squeak of a wheelchair rolling down the hall.

“Scarlett Johansson or Susan Storm… but she’s invisible the whole time?”

“Still Susan Storm.”

“Dude, you’re crazy.”

The Scorpion swished his tail at a stray fly. Meanwhile, in the opposite cell, another, normal-looking man swatted at a fly of his own. When the bug got near the cell wall, a little black portal opened up, and it found itself flying out a matching portal on the ceiling.

Scorpion turned to the cell adjacent to his own, but he was met with silence. “Well, you've been awfully quiet. Horn screwed on too tight?”

The Rhino's only reply was a scowl.

“Ah, don't worry about him,” said the Spot (not that you could recognize him without his skintight onepiece). “He's just sad his boyfriend's dead.”

“That's it!” Suddenly, Rhino was on his feet and dangerously close to approaching a wall or door. “First off, Marko ain't my boyfriend. Second off, he ain't dead!” Rhino’s fists clenched. “The whole point o' turnin' into Sandman was so he could be imp- impervi-” He faltered. “Uhhh…”

“Don't hurt yourself,” said Scorpion.

“So he could never get hurt by nothin'! If even a little bit o' sand survived, Marko can reform himself good as new. It just… takes him a while, that's all.”

“Dude, chill,” said a fourth voice. “Don't be such a spaz. It's colder than a deuce in this crib. I wanna watch the boob tube! That'd be, like, fab to the max.”

Every last eye fell on the cell of a certain afro-wearing convict.

“That guy scares me,” said Rhino.

“Everything scares you,” said Scorpion.

Rhino glared at him through the wall. “I'm not scared of every-”

“Alexander! Great to see you!”

“Agh!” All of a sudden, Rhino was cowering in the far corner of his cell as someone approached his door. “He’s back!”

The “he” in question was a short-haired, one-armed man in a sterile white lab coat, and standing beside him was his redhead wife.

“Well, if it ain’t the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Doctor Connors flown all the way from Florida to pay us a visit… for the ten billionth time.” On the other side of the cells, Scorpion gave an irritable flick of his tail. “Don't tell me you're still tryin' to make us 'normal?'”

Curt nodded, shrinking back. “I've got a new process that's guaranteed to remove your subdermal armor. Well, in theory, anyways.”

“Nuh uh!” Rhino folded his arms. “My lawyers said you can't experiment on me no more!”

“Are you sure, Alexander?” frowned Curt. “The new process will result in far fewer internal lacerations-”

“I'm not listenin’! La la la la-”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” said Martha, “you won’t be the first guinea pig.”

As she spoke, Hank pressed his palm against a scanner on one of the cells. An automated voice proclaimed, “Override accepted,” and then the door whirred open. Out stepped a boy whose shirtless torso shone like gold, though he stepped pretty hesitantly in light of the swarm of guards aiming their plasma-rifles at him.

Curt brought his (only) hand to Mark's metallic shoulder. “You sure you want to do this, Mark? You could be hospitalized for, well, I don't know how long.”

Mark nodded. “I'll take that bet.”

“What exactly are you gonna do to him, anyways?” Scorpion pointed to Mark's golden skin with his tail. “How d'ya make that normal again?”

“Well, it's a simple process, really,” said Curt, fidgeting with his name tag. “The patients’ subdermal armors have proven too tough for any regular surgical equipment to penetrate with the needed level of precision, but thanks to a recent increase in government funding, Ryker’s hospital staff has been able to afford a handful of scalpels made with slivers of adamantium, the strongest known metal on Earth. Now, with careful guidance, they can slice the patients free of their armors and then, with my and my wife’s knowledge of biogenetics, regrow a new layer of ordinary skin over the patients’ exposed musculature-”

“You're SLICIN’ OFF our SKIN?” shrieked Rhino.

“Well, that's...” Curt eyes met the floor. “...one way of putting it.”

"...obviously the greatest of nature's creatures, but nobody ever takes them seriously anymore. I mean, little girls sleep with these- these stuffed caricatures of them under their arms, and nobody thinks it's weird! Isn't that screwed up? All I want is for people to see us for the threats that we are-”

“Oh my god, Markham, you've been rambling about bears for three hours.” On sheer impulse, Electro sprang to his feet and made a sweeping gesture with his arms, but not a single spark escaped his hands. He scowled at the inhibitor bracelets around his wrists.

“Electro, please, remember what we've discussed-” Before Dr. Kafka could get a sentence out, another member of the therapy group was already on his feet – a hairy, hunchbacked man who walked to the center of the circle of chairs until he was face-to-face with Electro.

“So what if he has?” spat the man, drawing himself in front of the trembling Markham. “Dude's allowed to like bears if he wants. At least he doesn't make everyone call him 'Electro.'”

“Martin, please-” Kafka tried to say.

“I mean, 'Electro?' Really?” Martin sneered. “Seriously, Max, that sounds like something a four-year-old came up w- Urk!” Suddenly, he found a set of containment suit-covered fingers around his neck.

“Don't,” Electro said through gritted teeth, “Call. Me. MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX!”

“Oh… There, Calypso, there!” A big, hairy man rolled onto his back, sprawling himself over the silk covers of a king-sized bed. “Faster, my love... Don't stop...”

A dark-skinned woman loomed over him, stroking her hand back and forth, back and forth. “You like it, Sergei? You like it when I rub your tummy?”

Kraven's only response was to purr, then lick his paw so he could brush his head with it.

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, a pair of men at a table were shooting glances through the wide-open bedroom door.

One of the men – the one with a blank white mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth – shook his head, then said, “You know, in my years of impersonation, I've witnessed many disturbing things, but...” His voice held a hint of a Russian accent, matching Kraven's.

“Meh,” said the man on the opposite end of the table – the one with the squarish face and hair in some kinda bowl cut. “Still less weird than Sandman.” He drew a card from the deck on the table, then glanced at his hand and frowned.

Chameleon smirked. “Bad draw, Beck?”

“Well, I guess I can't win every- Behind you!” Suddenly, Beck pointed over the shoulder of Chameleon, who spun around. Into the kitchen had slinked a genuine, living, breathing lion. The creature yawned before plopping down on the rug like an oversized housecat.

Chameleon turned back to Beck. “That's just Gulyadkin, Sergei's pet. Surely you've met him by now?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Beck said hurriedly. “Just not used to sharing living space with a hungry lion, that's all... Hey, check it out!” He slapped some cards onto the table. “Four of a kind.”

Chameleon gave him a sour look. “What... luck.”

“Well, guess I shouldn't complain about a few jungle cats,” Beck shrugged. “Your half-brother's place is still way better than the last joint we laid low in.” He gestured to the enormous penthouse window overlooking the city.

“Yes, Calypso's voodoo magic has proven quite useful in evading the authorities.”

“Yeah. Voodoo. Sure.” Beck made a show of rolling his eyes.

Chameleon chuckled to himself. “Just because you have to fake your powers doesn't mean everyone does.”

“How much longer are we staying here, anyways?” asked Beck. “Ever since that little Valentine's Day fiasco, the Sinister Six's been cut in half, and now we're just lounging around. Why don’t we have Kraven’s lion track Spider-Man’s sent? We can find out who he is, kill him in his home-”

“Kraven doesn’t kill beasts in their nests,” Chameleon replied without looking up from his cards.

Beck rolled his eyes. “Look, I've got plenty of heists I could pull off on my own if he's not gonna-”

“Patience,” cut in Chameleon as he drew another card. “Believe me, I've been growing just as restless as you ever since my last employer blew himself up, but there's no point making a move until we know what we're doing. I don't impersonate someone without extensive prior research, and the Six shouldn't operate at half-strength. Right now, the only members out of prison are you, Sergei, and-” Chameleon blinked. “Wait, whatever happened to that old man? The... Buzzard, wasn't it?”

“Oh, Toomes? He retired from supervillany right before you got here. Seemed real happy about something or other.”

Meanwhile, in a nondescript pub on the other side of New York:

“Gimme another round!” A wrinkled, bald, hook-nosed old man slammed his mug onto the table. “I'm having a 'Norman Osborn is Dead' celebration drink!”

“Norman Osborn?” frowned the bartender. “But didn't he die weeks ago?”

“Yes.” The old man stared into his mug. “Yes, he did.”

Thump. Gulyadkin pounced for the front entrance, a low growl in his throat. Chameleon and Beck were broken from their card game by the door swinging open and another man waltzing into the penthouse. The lion seemed to recognize him and backed off.

“Evening, boys.” Given his grayed hair, the newcomer's voice was surprisingly high-pitched

“Tinkerer?” The penthouse floor shook as Kraven lumbered into the living room. “Back so soon? Does that mean we are ready to move forward?”

“More than ready.” The Tinkerer stepped aside and held the door open. “Our new associate would like to finally introduce himself. He's quite eager to both swell the ranks of the Sinister Six and provide Chameleon here with new work.”

“Is he?” Chameleon made a half-interested grunt. “Just so long as he's not another nut in a goblin costume.”

“Now, now-” Suddenly, the front door was filled by the roar of an engine. A gargoyle-themed glider squeezed its way through the front door, then unfurled its wings in the middle of the penthouse... and atop said glider was a man clad in an orange cloak. “-let's try to look past our prejudices, shall we?”

Chapter Text

The sound of footsteps carried down the sterile halls of Ravencroft.

“...this keeps up, we'll have no choice but to put him in extreme isolation like Castle and Kasady,” said a hushed voice. “And, well, you're the only one here he gets along with, so we thought-”

“I understand, Kafka,” said a second voice. “Just leave us be for a moment.”

“Alright.”

The cell door clicked shut. The short, plump man took a breath, then pushed his square glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Electro.”

On the far side of the room, Electro sat facing the other way, cradling himself. “Doc...”

Otto folded his arms. “You know they'll never let you out of here if this behavior continues.”

“I know.” Electro's voice shook. “I know I'm screwing up your plans. I'm sorry. Spider-Man was right. All I ever do is- is get mad and hurt my own teammates.”

“My plans were foiled by one person and one person alone,” Otto said firmly. “And that person wasn't you.”

Electro buried his helmet-covered face in his arms. “I'm so sick of it, Doc. Sick of bein' a freak. My own family doesn't even visit.”

Behind the goggles and burning yellow lights, Electro's eyes were watering, but before he had the chance to make any full-on tears, he flinched. Electro turned his head, startled. He stared at the hand on his shoulder like he couldn't believe it was there.

“You're right, Electro,” said Otto. “You are a freak. But that doesn't make you inferior to them. You have worth because you're different. Never forget that.”

Electro merely nodded, silent. After a moment, he asked, “How... How much longer till we find a way to bust out of here again?”

A smile crossed Otto's lips. “Oh, it might be sooner than you'd think.”

“Let me tell ya, the best day of this job is the last one.”

A pair of guards strolled down the long, drab hallways of Ryker's Island Penitentiary, tranquilizer-guns in hand.

“I hear ya,” said the second guard. “I keep expectin' that rhino guy to bust out and squish us.”

The first guard scoffed. “You think he's bad, then you've never had to guard the Hulk out in Utah.”

“The Hulk?” The second guard raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Haven't you ever wondered how I got this limp-?”

Clink, clink, clank.

Both guards' heads spun around, but there was nothing behind them but an empty hallway.

“Hey, you're right,” said the first. “This place does make you paran-”

Thump. Mid-sentence, the guard found a silver blur dropping on him from the ceiling. Next thing he knew, he'd been pinned to the floor by a boot.

“What the-?” Before the other guard could so much as point his gun, there was a clang, and he found his arm stuck to the far wall by a staple the size of a baseball.

“Don't raise the alarm.” Standing with a foot on the first guard's chest was a slender woman decked out in a skintight silver-and-white outfit. She had flowing white hair, eye black, a silver headband, and a massive rifle aimed right at the second guard's face. “Unless you want something a lot worse than a limp.” Her eyes darted to his pockets. “Get me the access code to Silvermane's cell. I know you have it.”

“Lady, if you think I'm just gonna-” Clang. The next staple embedded itself dangerously close to the guard's head. “One access code, comin' right up!”

“Thanks.” Crack. Naturally, the moment she had the card in her hand, the woman delivered a kick to the guard's forehead, knocking him out cold. She smiled to herself, then turned to continue down the hall.

“How does that ammo fit in the barrel?” asked a voice.

Like lightning, the woman had the aforementioned barrel aimed at the face of a second woman slouched against the far wall – a woman wearing a domino mask over her eyes and a matching skintight black outfit covered with white fluff.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Sable!” Black Cat smirked. “I was just curious. Not the best quality for a feline to have, I know.”

Silver Sable huffed. “What are you doing here?”

“Who, me?” the Cat said silkily. “I'm just a white-haired femme fatale trying to rescue her daddy from the slammer. And you?”

Sable hesitated for a moment, then lowered her weapon. “How did you find me?”

“I followed your trail.” Black Cat smirked at her. “No offense, hon, but you're not exactly a master of stealth. You stapled one of the guards to a flagpole.”

“Then you know we have precious little time until the alarm is sounded,” said Sable, “so get out of my way... unless you came here to stop me?”

“I prefer to watch these gang wars from a distance, thanks.” Black Cat made a show of stepping out of Sable's path. “Don't worry, I'm not loyal to the Big Man or Hammerhead or, well, anyone who's not me. If you wanna bust out your daddy, hey, more power to you. I just thought you'd like to know the cells are that way.” She pointed a thumb in the opposite direction.

Silver Sable scowled, muttered something under her breath, then scurried off.

Black Cat smiled to herself as she shook her head. “I think I've got a new best friend.”

“I’m wanted elsewhere?” The first guard didn’t look entirely convinced, but the second held his ground on the issue.

“Sorry, uh, sir,” he mumbled, tugging his uniform's hat over his face. “Warden's orders.”

“Alright, alright...” The first guard trudged off down the cell corridor, hanging his head.

Naturally, the moment the first was out of sight, the second guard turned to the cells, smirked, and then peeled off his face to reveal a blank, white one beneath.

“You?” Inside his cell, Rhino's eyes lit up. “Beck's friend?”

Chameleon nodded. “Yes. And I come bearing gifts.” He held up his hands. In one was a key card, and in the other what appeared to be an oversized shopping bag.

“What's in there?” asked Scorpion from his own cell.

“Just a little something for the more theatric among you.” As he spoke, Chameleon swiped the card through a terminal on the wall. “I of all people appreciate the art of costume design.”

A cheer rang out as cell doors whirred open and inhibitor bracelets snapped off. The bad guys without subdermal armor formed a single-file line so they could receive their trademark outfits – Spot's skintight polka dot onepiece… and a certain white and pink getup.

“Thanks, pops,” the Hyno-Hustler said as he zipped up his incredibly tight pants. “You did me a real solid. Now let's book it before the Man catches us.”

“Not so fast. I've got more than just costumes...” Chameleon reached into his bag once again. “For Scorpion, a fresh supply of acid-”

“Now we're talkin'.” Scorpion promptly set to work loading the vial into the tip of his stinger.

“-and for Hustler, the latest model of the OsPod.” Chameleon handed the Hypno-Hustler a small, rectangular, silver device.

The Hustler thumbed through its screen, going straight for a playlist labeled “Disco's Greatest Hits.” A big, wide grin crossed his face. “I can dig it.”

Believe it or not, there was actually a tiny sliver of New York City's prisons dedicated to housing the criminals who didn't have super powers.

“First thing I'm gonna do once I'm out?” Fancy Dan gave his beard a thoughtful stroke. “Find myself a woman. What about you?” He glanced at his cell mate.

“Catch up on some cartoons.” Ox’s mustache twitched with anticipation. “They've only got basic cable in this dump, so I'm way behind on all my favorite-” He caught sight of Dan's face. “What?”

“Nothin'.” Dan rolled his eyes, then looked to the neighboring cell, where a third man sat all alone on a cot (He'd used to have a cell mate, but they'd turned out to be a robot). “What about you, Montana?”

“That's easy,” said Montana, his voice positively dripping with Southern-ness. “Soon as I'm out, I'm goin' to Gaxton's place and shootin' pool 'til my arms fall off.”

“Yeah, well, I'll be out sooner than all of you,” spoke up a snively, redheaded man in the opposite cell, “just as soon as they pass that brainwashed victim protection legislation-”

“Shut up, Menken.” Montana scowled, then turned to the final neighboring cell – the one housing a white-haired old man. “And what 'bout you?”

The man stayed silent.

“Who, Silvermane?” blurted out Fancy Dan. “The only way he'll be leavin' this place is in a coffin.”

“Yeah, look at the guy,” smirked Ox. “He's fixin' to drop dead any minute now.”

“He won't be the only one if you don't watch your mouth,” said a voice.

“What the-?” Suddenly, all eyes in the corridor fell on the twin sets of curves strolling towards them. The hot babes entering their proximity left every last prisoner drooling – all save for Silvermane, who sprang to his feet with surprising speed for a man his age.

“Sable?” he said, eyes bulging. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Sable held up her pilfered access card.

“Man,” whispered Ox, nudging his cell mate, “what I'd give for a piece of THAT.” He gestured to the shinier portions of Sable's jumpsuit.

“Dude!” Fancy Dan whispered back. “That's Silvermane's daughter!”

Ox looked blank. “So what?”

“She went steady with Hammerhead!”

“What?” Ox made a face. “Eww, forget it, I ain't touchin' nothin' that's touched his 'hammer!'” His eyes shifted to the other hot babe. “Okay, what about that cat chick? Who's SHE slept with?”

“Uh...” Dan looked thoughtful. “Spider-Man, most likely.”

“That's... even worse.”

“Probably laid eggs in her or somethin'.”

With a whirr, Silvermane's cell door swung open, but he stayed rooted in place.

“What are you waiting for?” snapped Sable.

“You shouldn't have come here!” Silvermane snapped back. “I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to risk your neck like this.”

Sable's face tightened. “I risked my neck for you. Everything you've spent your whole life building is falling apart. We need you free.”

“No, Sable, you don't.” Silvermane glanced away. “I'm old. I'm weak. And after ten years behind bars, things have changed too much for me. Even with the most advanced armor and weaponry my money could buy, I was sent right back to prison by that masked vigilante. People like him… like Octavius's band of freaks… I'm no match for them.” His eyes locked with his daughter's. “Don't you get it, Sable? It has to be you, not me.”

Sable's eyes were wide, though with shock or anger, it was hard to say. “Me? You want me to take your empire? Right now?”

Silvermane gave a slow nod. “What do you think I've been grooming your for all these years? Why do you think I bothered adopting a little orphan girl off the streets of Symkaria? I saw potential in you.”

Sable's eyes settled on “anger.” “And what about you? Are you just going to sit there when your cell's wide open?”

“Breaking out of Ryker's is a lot harder than breaking in,” said Silvermane. “I'd only slow you down.”

“Fine, then you can rot in here!” Slam. The door shut in Silvermane's face. “I should never have come back for you...” Sable spun around, marching away down the hall.

“So let me get this straight-” Black Cat trotted after her. “-you went through all the trouble of breaking in here to save your daddy only to learn he doesn't want to be freed? Wow, you must be my soul mate-”

“Shut up.” The Cat found the barrel of the oversized staple gun resting under her chin. “What are you doing here, anyways? Why are you following me?”

“I'm not following you,” Black Cat said coolly. “We just both happened to be going the same way.”

“And we both happened to break in here on the exact same day at the exact same time?”

The Cat shrugged. “Hey, it's a good day to break into Ryker's. With Oscorp's old CEO dead and the new one disappearing overseas with her kid, the board of directors handed the Vault over to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Ah, yes, the Supreme Headquarters International Espionage Law-Enforcement Division, the organization the government had finally slapped together to deal with the six-hundred percent increase in superhuman activity the U.S. had seen in the past couple years (a considerable chunk of which had come from Manhattan alone). With the government swooping in to handle things, Oscorp had been thrilled to relinquish the duties of supervillain containment, at least according to their PR statement.

“Today's the changing of the guard,” Cat continued, “meaning everything's disorganized and it's the last day before Ryker's security quadruples, so if anyone wants to break into the place, they'll do it tod-”

“COWER IN FEAR, EARTHLINGS!”

Black Cat flinched in a manner not unlike her namesake as the whole chamber spontaneously filled with pea green smoke.

“Wha-?” Before Sable could so much as fire a staple, she and the Cat found themselves on their knees. Apparently, their legs had moved of their own accord.

“That's right, humans!” said a bellowing British voice that over-enunciated every word. “Already, my spores have infected your primitive primate biology, forcing you to kneel in the presence of true greatness!” Through the smoke, a humanoid shape was becoming visible… “Behold the soon-to-be ruler of this miserable planet, the hive mind of the oncoming alien swarm, otherwise known as the Master Yggdrasil System Terminal Electrified Robotic Interior Operator!” …a humanoid shape wearing a green suit and a purple cape with a big, smoke-filled crystal orb for a head.

“Wait a minute, I know you!” said Sable.

“Y-You do?” The “alien's” voice cracked a little with delight.

“Yeah, you're one of Octavius's freaks.” Sable's eyes narrowed. “But I thought you were pretending to be a sorcerer, not an alien.”

“Ha! Fool!” Mysterio let out a painfully stilted laugh. “That's what my alien probes wanted you to think! I disguised my otherworldly technology as mere magic tricks, preying on the superstitions of your ignorant species in order to-”

“Look, sweetheart,” cut in Black Cat, “I've seen a real alien before, and even I don't believe you.”

“You?” It was hard to tell under that oversized fishbowl, but apparently Mysterio had spotted Black Cat for the first time. He pointed a gloved hand at her. “You're one of Spider-Man's friends!”

Black Cat's face soured. “Trust me, I'm really, really not.”

“Yes you are! You helped him out on that boat!”

“Oh.” Black Cat blinked. “You were one of the crooks there?”

“Yes! Yes! You remember!” Mysterio was so excited, he forgot to do the phoney accent for a second.

“Yeah.” Black Cat strained her forehead, thinking back. “You were disguised as the… captain?”

Mysterio's whole posture stiffened like he'd been slapped in the face- err, dome. Slowly, like a tea kettle boiling over, he hissed, “I. Was. The. WAITER!” There was a flourish of his arms, followed by another plume of smoke, and suddenly the room was filled with dozens of little red, winged alien bugs that were totally NOT repurposed homunculi robots. “Get them, my spawn!”

“Bite them!” squeaked a bug.

“Scratch them!” squeaked a second.

“I'm allergic to cats!” squeaked a third.

“Maybe this will teach you to respect the great M.Y.S.T.E.R.I.O hive mind of Planet Oiretsym!” Mysterio let loose a hearty chuckle. “And since my spores have left you paralyzed, you'll be helpless as my spawn consumes your nutrient-dense human flesh.”

“Spores?” A smirk crossed Silver Sable's lips. “Or maybe...” Smash. The next thing he knew, Mysterio had a giant steel staple embedded in the gauntlet on his right arm. “...some colorless gas hidden up your sleeve?” With a bit of straining, Sable and Black Cat managed to return to their feet. The “alien spawn” dived for them, but with a swish of the Cat's claws and a throw of Sable's bolas, they were made short work of.

“Lucky guess,” Mysterio muttered, clutching his arm.

“Beck.” Another supervillain emerged from the fog. A bigger, hairier one. “Is this really the time to be picking fights?” Kraven shot his comrade a snarl.

“That girl is Spider-Man's partner!” Mysterio pointed an accusing finger at Black Cat.

“No I'm not!” spat the Cat. “That's what I was trying to tell you! I hate Spider-Man!”

The jungle cat gave the domestic one a look over. “Well, if you have no quarrel with us, stay out of our way.”

“I was just leaving.” Black Cat slinked off towards one of the cells.

“For once, we agree on something.” Silver Sable started to follow, but she didn't make it far before her path was blocked.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” One final shape emerged from the smoke... a lanky figure in an orange cloak standing atop a gargoyle-themed glider. “Last I checked, Black Cat wasn't a mob boss – That'd be stupid. But you, my dear...” Before Sable could so much as aim her gun, the Hobgoblin had a pumpkin bomb poised to be thrown. “Well, call me sexist, but I'm not too keen on the idea of anyone vying for the title of 'the Big Woman.'”

The pumpkin sailed through the air, but before it could reach Sable's face, it collided with a staple. The only sound audible over the deafening explosion was the bomb's earsplitting “HA” noise.

“Look! Look!” Over in his cell, Menken bounced up and down like a toddler. “See! There's the real one! That proves I'm not the Hob-”

“Shut up, Menken!” the other prisoners yelled in synch.

For someone with no superpowers, Silver Sable could move. She rolled out of the way before the next wave of Hobgoblin's pumpkins hit the ground, then sprinted for the exit. Her path was quickly blocked by a snarling jungle beast, but said jungle beast was just as quickly sent to the floor by a bolas wrapping around his legs. Sable took the time to fire a couple staples into Kraven's arms and chest, leaving him roaring in pain as she rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

Mysterio started after her, but Hobgoblin stopped him. “We'll deal with her later. Right now, let's say we swell our ranks?” The glider came to a stop before the Enforcers' cells. “Hey, there, nice to meet ya. The name's Hobgoblin, but you can just call me 'boss.'”

“Really, now?” Montana raised an eyebrow. “And why should we do a fool thing like that?”

“Well, gee, I suppose I could always find some other thugs to wear these...” The Goblin held up a sack. Poking out the top was a piece of fabric with a familiar-looking yellow quilt texture. “...but Tinkerer already fitted them to you guys and everything.”

“Who are you s'posed to be, anyways?” asked Fancy Dan. “Last I heard, the Green Goblin got himself blown up.”

“And was, y'know, actually green,” added Ox.

The Hobgoblin chuckled to himself. “Here's a protip for any aspiring Big Men out there – image is everything. The last Big Man wore that goblin outfit for a reason, and I guess you could say I'm stealing his thunder.”

“Sure, partner. Whatever ya say...”

Without further ado, the Goblin swiped a key card to open the Enforcers' cells, and they got to work changing into costume.

While he waited, the Hobgoblin's attention fell on a certain old man. “Ooh, sorry, old timer, I didn't pack you any mechsuits. Must've slipped my mind.” The Hobgoblin hovered outside Silvermane's cell, cackling. “Well, I suppose in light of that heart-to-heart with your little girl, you're out of the running for Big Man now, anyways.”

Silvermane merely scowled at him.

“Not that you were ever a threat in the first place, of course,” Hobgoblin shrugged. “An old geezer like you’s not even worth wasting a pumpkin bomb over. I'll just wait another month or so and let nature take its course.”

“There we go,” said Montana. The Goblin's attention turned to the fully-costumed Enforcers – There Shocker stood in all his yellow couch-cushioney glory, flanked by Ricochet and Ox in their decidedly more dignified gray-and-purple mechsuits. “Now, just so we're clear, you ain't loyal to Tombstone?”

“Not one tiny bit,” the Hobgoblin said proudly.

“Good.” Wham. A pillar of compressed air sent Gobbie hurtling off his glider. “I'd been wantin' to do that ever since I saw yer stupid face,” said Shocker (A.K.A. Montana). “Boy, you're dumber than a cat at a canine convention.”

“Sorry, Goblin,” said Ricochet (A.K.A. Fancy Dan), “but we're more scared of double-crossin' Tombstone than we are o' double-crossin' some nut in a mask.”

“And your costume's really unoriginal,” said Ox (A.K.A. Ox).

By the time the Hobgoblin made it back onto his glider, the Enforcers were gone save for the faint boing, boing, boing of Ricochet, well, ricocheting off the walls.

“Wow,” said Mysterio, “and I thought I had no dignity.”

“No skin off my back,” said the Hobgoblin. “I couldn't care less who those chumps work for so long as they give Spider-Man a hard time. That's what this little jailbreak's all about, my dear Mysterio – causing chaos.”

“Well, we can't cause much chaos behind bars, so I suggest we take our leave.” Mysterio gestured to the squadron of guards headed their way from the opposite end of the chamber. “But what about Kraven?” He nodded his bulbous head towards the overgrown feline, who was still struggling in vain against the various cords and staples holding him down.

“Somehow, I think we'll manage without him.”

And so, with a sweep of Mysterio's hands, the pair of villains vanished in a plume of smoke.

A legion of guards swarmed the cold, bleak hallways of the Vault, blocking the path of a small army of supervillains. The escapees were surrounded on both sides, but before a single guard could so much as fire his tranquilizer gun, a totally fab beat swept over the hall.

“Drop your funky weapons, white boy!” On the Hypno-Hustler's orders, every last guard dropped their gun to the floor and obediently stepped aside.

“Nice.” The Spot picked up a tranq gun for himself, and any other unarmed supervillains followed suit. All save the Hypno-Hustler, who seemed content to be armed with just his OsPod.

The horde of villains grinned to themselves as they continued through the Vault unobstructed. One villain, however, looked troubled.

“I don't get it,” said Rhino. “How’d you get brainwashey-music powers? And why's it have to be disco music?”

Hustler’s only answer was a shrug.

“Yeah, when it comes to super-mercenaries, Tricorp just throws everything at the wall to see what sticks,” said the Spot.

“Wait a minute!” Rhino gave him a suspicious glare. “If your power's to make portal-spot-things, and you ain't in your special anti-superpowers cell no more, why haven't you teleported us out o' here already?”

“Because the Vault's miles beneath Ryker's Island and I don't know my way around this place,” said Spot. “You want me to accidentally make a portal to the bottom of the ocean?”

“Oh.” Rhino’s face flushed . “Yeah, I don't do so good underwater...”

“Look, once we get to the surface, I can 'port us to my apartment.” It was hard to judge Spot's mood with his faceless mask on, but he sounded pretty smug. “And then we'll form the new-and-improved Spider-Man Revenge Sq-”

“Not another step,” a voice rang out.

All heads turned to find a blazing golden guy blocking the exit, flanked by Mr. and Mrs. Connors.

“Take a chill pill, you jive turkey!” The Hypno-Hustler hoisted his OsPod over his head. “You wanna boogie with the cool cats, then fine, let's boogie!” But before a funky beat had time to wash over the newcomers, a ball of molten lava sailed towards him. “No! My jam!” In his hurry to dodge, the Hustler ended up dropping the Pod straight into the resulting lava puddle, rendering it nothing more than a glob of gooey plastic.

“Crap! Run!” Spot shouted a warning to the others – only to get clonked in the head himself. But it was a sacrifice that allowed Rhino and Scorpion to turn tail (literally in one of their cases) and bolt the other way down the hall, Rhino running along the floor and Scorpion running along the ceiling.

“W-Wait!” Molten Man started after them, but he halted himself once his luster faded. “Great, my fire’s conked out again. Ugh, it’s been so touch and go lately.” Without the added edge, he wasn’t nearly brave enough to chase after the remaining crooks. “I mean, normally that’d be a good thing…”

“It’s alright, Mark. You still did well.” Behind him, Martha nodded to Spot and Hypno-Hustler. A legion of guards had already arrived to usher them back to their cells alongside Kraven.

“Least I can do to make up for things…” Mark bowed his metal forehead.

“You know,” Curt said with a wry smile, “it’s not too late to consider a superhero career.”

“I’ll stick with the surgery, thanks.”

“Felicia! I told you not to come back h-” Before the old man could get another horrified word out, Black Cat held a canister to his face and sprayed. Hss. “Ugh...” The man immediately collapsed into her arms.

“You’ll thank me later.” The Cat heaved him over her shoulder and then turned for the cell's exit. “Now let's make ourselves scarce before the real excitement starts...”

Chapter Text

There was red. So much red. And the old man was in the middle of it, lying there in the street, and when he turned towards Peter, there wasn't pain on his face. He didn't look scared – He looked livid. “You could've saved me.”

And then the blood started to pool, swirling and bubbling and rising off the ground until it'd taken a humanoid shape. A humanoid shape with pure white eyes and a mouthful of jagged teeth. The creature raised an arm, its hand morphing into an ax, and then-

“Parker!”

“Gah!” Peter jolted upright in his desk. Wait, his desk? He jerked his head around, sputtering. As soon as the room stopped spinning and he could make out the Quadratic Equation poster hanging on the wall, Peter realized where he was – precalc. Precalc? That was, like, third period! What happened to first and second period? Peter tried to think back, but his mind was a haze, and it didn't help that his neck ached like crazy from the whiplash.

“Mr. Parker, just because you're my star pupil doesn't mean you can sleep through-” The teacher did a double-take, which was presumably when she noticed the thick layer of cold sweat on Peter's forehead. “Are you alright, Peter? Do you need to see the nurse?”

“No, no, I'm good.” Peter tried his best to sit up straight and look normal. Ever since that bug bite, he'd been terrified his next doctor's visit would end with the officially documented discovery of his spider-DNA-tainted blood. Or of those little hairs in his hands and feet that let him stick to walls. Or maybe his spider-sense would go off and Peter would kick before the rubber mallet hit his knee. Or maybe- Brrring.

“Gah!” Peter was jolted back to reality by the bell. Holy moly, third period was over already? What time was it? As the class collectively rose from their desks, Peter took his phone out. Hmm... There was a text from Gwen, but Peter was in no state to be speaking coherent sentences, let alone reading them.

Slam. The sound of his locker closing seemed to wake Peter up. Whoa, hold up, his locker? Hadn't he been in the classroom a second ago? Man, it was like his brain had switched to autopilot. Peter tried to make an indignant scoff, but all that came out his mouth was a yawn.

With the proper textbook now in hand, Peter made his way towards fourth period. The only problem was it was hard to navigate the halls when his eyes kept shutting all on their own. It wasn't that Peter didn't want to get enough sleep. It was just that, well, lately, sleeping had been...

Claws and crimson and the agonized shrieks of its victim as a creature let loose an inhuman laugh.

...difficult.

Peter's eyes shot back open, and for a disorienting second, he wasn't sure if he was still dreaming or not. It wasn't fair. Spider-Man had saved bazillions of people, and he was bound to slip up every now and then, but… at this rate, it was only a matter of time before Peter failed someone really important. Y'know, besides the important person he'd already-

Whoa, hold it, angst alarm going off. Man, if he kept brooding like this, Spidey would have to add pointy ears and a cape to his costume. Peter took a deep breath. Soothing thoughts, Pete. Soothing thoughts.

Despite being caught halfway between the waking and dream worlds, Peter actually made it to fourth period early. He had to resist the urge to throw himself into his seat. The last thing Peter wanted was to destroy his desk with his spider-strength… again.

“Peter?” Naturally, Peter had chosen the desk right next to his stunningly beautiful girlfriend. “You never texted back last night. You okay?”

“Huh?” Peter shook himself awake. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Gwen.”

“Do you want to visit Eddie after class?”

Peter's stomach sank. Oh, right, Eddie. Another thing to feel terrible about. “Sorry, I've gotta work, and, well…” Peter sighed, rubbing his temple. “Honestly, with the state he's in, I'm not sure it makes much difference if we visit him or not.”

Gwen didn't look totally pleased with this answer, but all she said was, “I understand.” After a moment's silence, she asked, “You okay?”

“Great,” Peter said immediately. “I feel way better now. I'm totally fine.”

“That's good.” Gwen patted his hand, giving a strained smile.

After that, the teacher started talking, so Peter had to turn his brain towards the herculean task of paying attention. He took one last wistful look at Gwen before opening up his textbook.

Great. Just when Peter thought he'd finally gotten out of his “lying to his girlfriend” phase.

Thwip. Spidey swung furiously through the city. He wasn't even headed towards Queens – He was wandering aimlessly, and at top speed to boot. Spider-Man was literally going nowhere fast.

Okay. Okay, fine, yes, things had gotten a little more intense last battle than he was used to. Guess all the crime-fighting in the world couldn’t prepare him to tussle with a bloodthirsty alien symbiote. But… But so what if they lived in a world full of aliens and sand-people and who knew what other weird crap? What was Peter supposed to do, go back home and hang up the tights so he could watch TV and eat nachos all day? Ugh, Peter was sick of all this navel-gazing. Yes, okay, he was scared to death of Carnage, Peter admitted it, but if he kept letting it get under his skin, Spider-Man was gonna turn into one of those whiny, angst-ridden superheroes that were all the rage these days.

Thwip. Spider-Man was so lost in thought, he hardly even noticed the awesome flip he did around the Empire State Building's lightning rod.

“Help! Help! My bag!”

Spider-Man was just close enough to the ground to hear the panicked cries of a woman in peril. He dropped down to a lamppost right as a scraggly haired guy sped by with a Hello Kitty purse in hand.

Thwip. “I could be wrong, dude, but I've got a feeling that's not yours.”

Oh, thank God, Spider-Man loved purse snatchers. There was nothing introspective about purse snatchers.

A flock of birds darted off at Flash’s approach. Somehow, after school, he’d found himself wandering through the heart of Manhattan. He'd wound up at a small park where he and Kong had used to throw footballs. You know, back when Flash had still been capable of happiness.

Stupid Sha Shan. Ugh, girls were impossible! What'd Flash done wrong? Why was she so ticked at him? Was it because he didn't wanna be in A Telemarketer Dies or whatever? That was so unfair! Flash had already done a whole play for her! He'd spent hours of his life memorizing all those stupid ancient fancy-pants words written by- by- by that guy who wrote all those plays! What, was Flash supposed to stay in drama club for the rest of his life?

It wasn't like this was the first time Flash had had girl problems. Liz had left him for Puny Parker, for God's sake! But Sha Shan was different. She wasn't just any girl. She was more than that. And was it really Flash's fault that he hadn't quite been able to put that into words when she'd asked?

Thwip.

“Whuh-?” Flash’s head went skyward. He managed to catch the most fleeting of glimpses of something red and blue before it rounded the corner of a skyscraper and vanished.

The teeniest, tiniest of smiles couldn’t help but play in Flash’s lips. If there was one person in all the world who could improve Flash’s mood, it was that guy. Spider-Man was the best. Flash bet he never had girl problems.

He never thought he’d say this, but Spider-Man kinda missed the good old days when Tombstone was in charge and there were always plenty of crooks to web up. Now all that was left were petty thieves and vandals, and Spidey could take those guys with his eyes shut. In fact, that’s exactly what he did for a couple of ’em.

The point is, Spidey spent his whole weekend cracking down on NYC's numerous crooks. With curfew lifted, all Peter had to do was call Aunt May to say he'd be working late (which was true from a certain point of view), and he could stay out as long as he wanted no questions asked.

Oh, don't look at him like that. Peter was a super genius. He could get all his homework done Monday morning. In fact, since Spider-Man was spending as much time as he could fighting crime, when you thought about it, it'd be massively irresponsible of him not to put his homework off until Monday morning.

“Boom! Caught this guy robbing an ATM!” A triumphant Spider-Man deposited a bundle of webbing onto the floor of the NYPD.

“I want my lawy-” Thwip. The criminal found his mouth obstructed.

“Wow, how many is that today?” From the far side of the room, Sergeant DeWolff shot the Web-Head a scowl, her coffee mug raised halfway to her lips. “Twelve?”

“Yeah,” said Spider-Man, turning to leave. “Actually, I'm kinda running out of mooks to web up. It's getting a little boring.”

“I know a criminal you can catch,” DeWolff said dryly. “There's this crazy guy running around Manhattan, wanted on over five hundred separate counts of assault since last summer.”

“Seriously?” Spider-Man nearly tripped over himself in excitement. “I bet I can catch him! What's he look like?”

“Well, he wears this stupid costume…”

“Is it Daredevil? It's Daredevil, isn't?”

DeWolff gave a pointed stare.

“Oh,” said Spider-Man.

After that, he politely excused himself from the station.

Spider-Man needed someone to punch. It wasn't that he was one of those violence crazed maniac vigilante types. It was just… well, it was the only thing that kept him from feeling so tired. Heck, with all the crooks he’d clonked today, he was more awake than ever.

Spider-Man yawned.

Okay, fine, he was getting sleepy. Sue him. Spidey perched himself on the side of a building, retrieved his Osberry from his handy-dandy utility belt, and texted Home in 5 mins to Aunt May. Now all he had to do was swing back to Queens and-

“Hey! Hey, Spider-Man!”

A guy was waving at him from down on the sidewalk. A guy with a beard that went down to his knees, an oversized backpack, and a thick layer of grime over his entire body.

Spider-Man held back a sigh. “Yeah, dude?” He dropped down to the street beside him.

“I hate to bother you, man, but, uh...” The guy glanced away. “I really need to get to Washington Heights, and I can't afford a cab.”

“Uh... yeah.” Spider-Man stuck a discreet hand back into his utility belt. “It's your lucky day. I was just headed there.”

Peter felt his wallet. Actually, giving this guy a couple bucks would be way cheaper than the cost of the web-fluid wasted on a trip, but you know what they say. He might spend it on drugs or something.

The sigh couldn't be held back any longer as Spidey pulled out his phone again to text, Make that half an hour.

“Gwen? I'm home.” Captain Stacy shut the door behind him, then hung up his coat. He strolled into the living room to find his daughter slouched over on the couch, her glasses halfway off her face, staring at a blank phone screen. “You alright, dear?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Gwen said dully. “Just haven't heard back from Peter in a while. That always makes me paranoid he's been kidnapped by Doctor Doom or something.”

“Really, he hasn't texted you?” Her dad frowned. “My men say he's been swinging aimlessly around the city all day.”

“He's been so flaky lately!” Gwen rolled over on the mattress. “Guess I don't blame him, though. Losing Eddie so soon after losing Harry again…” She faltered. “But it's like the only way Peter knows how to deal it is by putting on a costume and beating up criminals, and I just don't think…” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Dad, can- can you promise me you'll watch out for him?”

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. “I promise.”

“Peter... Peter... wake up.”

Slowly, Peter opened his eyelids, rubbing out the blurriness as the sun streamed through the window... and the first thing in his line of sight was a big, red, humanoid figure with milky white eyes.

“Gah!” He nearly jumped onto the ceiling before Peter realized it was only his costume sprawled across the desk chair. “Oh, man.”

As soon as he was sure he wasn't experiencing cardiac arrest, Peter stashed his costume in his backpack and then opened the bedroom door to find Aunt May waiting for him.

“Gwen's father is here to see you,” she said, smiling at him. “Said he needed to talk to you about your criminology homework.”

“Cool, I'll be right down.”

Criminology homework? But Gwen's dad hadn't assigned any homework this weekend... meaning that had to be code for Peter's “extracurricular activities.” As soon as Peter was sure his hair wasn't sticking up funny, he bolted downstairs to the living room, where Captain Stacy was waiting by the front door.

As soon as Peter got near, Gwen's dad grabbed the remote from the coffee table, turned up the TV (in case any little old ladies happened to be eavesdropping), then said in a low voice, “We need to talk.”

“Sure,” Peter whispered back. “What's up?”

“If you remember, Peter,” Gwen's dad began, “I told you I only tolerated your vigilantism out of necessity – You can take out threats the police can't. But there hasn't been any supervillain activity since that red monster attacked Westchester...” His brow creased. “So then why have Spider-Man sightings been up six-hundred percent in the last two days?”

“Oh.” Peter shrank. “Well, I, uh...”

Gwen's dad sighed. “Peter, it's been weeks since Norman died, and the Big Man power vacuum hasn't been filled yet. Believe me, the NYPD has the city's crime under control – The world doesn't rest on your shoulders. You should be playing video games, hanging out with Gwen, doing your homework... You deserve to be a normal kid, Peter.” He gave a sad smile. “You know, if there's anything you need to talk about…”

Peter stared. He wanted to say it… to say everything… but he could hear Aunt May's footsteps at the top of the stairs. So instead, all he got out was, “Maybe you're right. Guess I should take a break for a while.” Of course, what Peter didn't mention was that if he took a break, he'd start seeing Carnage's ugly mug again the next time he shut his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Gwen's dad smiled again, but his eyes lingered on Peter a while. “Well, guess I'd better get going.” He turned for the door.

Okay, Peter had been planning on throwing on his costume and going on patrol first thing this morning, but, well, maybe instead he'd pour himself some Cocoa Puffs, text Gwen, and watch some-

“-breaking news of a massive security breach from Ryker's Island Penitentiary. Reports are still coming in, but we can confirm that among the Vault escapees are the superhumans Alex O'Hirn and Mac Gargan, as well as several high profile non-super criminals considered highly dangerous by police. The growing list includes Jackson Brice, Raymond Bloch, Daniel Brito, Walter Hardy-”

-TV.

“Hello, America, this is Dilbert Trilby reporting.” A brown-haired man in a crisp, gray suit stared sternly into the camera. “In light of yet another supervillain prison breakout this morning, many New Yorkers are forced to yet again ask themselves… is the city safe to live in anymore? This is the question we posed to the people of Manhattan today, and these are their answers.”

The camera cut to footage of a random passerby on the streets with a microphone shoved in her face.

“Really? Another breakout?” the woman said, dazed. “What are those jails made out of, rice paper?”

Then it cut to some old guy in the middle of a game of chess:

“Supervillains in New York? Gimme a break!”

Then it cut to a little boy bouncing with excitement at his mother's side:

“Oh! Oh! Last time, the Sinister Six attacked Ravencroft to bust out Dr. Octopus and Electro! I bet they're gonna do that again!”

“I want these two in maximum security STAT! Let's move it, people!”

A short, pudgy man in a hospital gown and a tall, spindly man in a containment suit were ushered down the hall by a squadron of guards. The guards kept their tranq guns pointed in a circle around the supervillains, as if they were expecting an attack to come from anywhere.

“Well, at least you're trying to put up a defense,” said Otto. “It's reassuring to know I won't be outwitting complete imbeciles this time.”

“Can it, you narcissistic cephalopod!” snapped a guard, swinging his barrel into Otto's face. “We're armed to the teeth. This time, your little henchmen aren't getting within fifty feet of-”

Boom. The next instant, guards and staff alike were screaming as an entire wall collapsed. The dust cleared to reveal a massive, gray, hulking figure standing in the rubble.

“Outta the way.” Rhino crouched into a charging stance. “Unless you wanna find out if Ravencroft guards are as fragile as Ryker's ones.”

“Fire! Fire!” Naturally, the guards unloaded their tranq guns, but it had no effect. When the smoke cleared, the reason why became obvious – Namely, the gas mask on his face.

“The heavy rounds!” barked the squad leader, stumbling backwards. “Use the heavy rounds!”

But before the guard at the back could so much as lift his bazooka, the entire squadron suddenly fell to their knees. “What the-?”

“That's right, Earthlings!” a voice cackled as the hall filled with pea green fog. “Kneel before the rightful rulers of this meager hunk of rock you call a planet!”

“Ah, Mysterio,” Otto said mildly. “You're right on time.”

A caped, bubble-headed form emerged from the smoke to hand Otto a gas mask of his own (Electro's came built into his suit). “I suggest you put this on quickly,” said Mysterio. “Primitive as it is, this human technology will protect you from my neural spores.”

“Will you drop the 'alien' bullcrap already?” Scorpion scurried across the ceiling overhead, a mask stuck his face to match Rhino's. “It's about as believable as my ex-wife's-”

“Enough prattling!” Otto clicked his own gas mask into place. “Rhino, take care of Electro's inhibitor bands.”

“Sure thing.”

Electro held up his wrists so he could break off the bracelets via Rhino's horn. With the bands off, Electro could roll back his helmet, letting the crackling ball of electricity dance freely around his head. “Finally! Thanks.”

“No problem.” Rhino nodded, then reached for something at his hip. Apparently, in addition to the gas mask on his face, he had an enormous belt around his waist that carried a pair of oversized cylinders. Rhino detached one with his massive hand, popped open the top, yanked off his mask, and guzzled down a whole stomach's worth of water.

Electro raised an eyebrow (though it was hard to tell through the lightshow that was his head). “What's that for?”

“Me and Scorpion can only sweat through our face,” said Rhino, handing the second cylinder to his arachnid-themed comrade. “We gotta make sure we stay nice and hydrated so we don't pass out.”

“But won't that just make you really have to-? Wait.” Electro's eyes darted to Rhino's lower waist. “Come to think of it, how do you-?”

“How do you?” countered Rhino.

“Touché.” Electro's attention turned to Scorpion. “Anyways, aren't you one of the newer supervillains? Since when are you loyal to the Doc?”

Scorpion shrugged. “I'll work for anyone so long as the pay's good.”

“I would've liked to swell our ranks even more, but Rhino and Scorpion were the only ones to escape the Vault.” Otto smirked to himself. “I suppose we'll have to settle for six members. Funny how it keeps working out that way.”

“Wait! Wait! We'll join you!” Suddenly, a pair of voices from a nearby padded cell started making a racket.

“Oh?” Otto turned towards the cellmates. One was a dark-haired boy with oversized spectacles while the other was an overweight man sporting a neckbeard. “And what do you two have to add to the table?”

“I wear a kangaroo costume in honor of my idol!” said the boy.

“And I'm a grizzly bear on all levels except physical!” said the man.

“Yeah, don't call us, we'll call you,” said another voice. With a whirr of his glider's engine, the Hobgoblin swooped into the hall through the Rhino-sized hole in the wall. “The guards outside are taken care of, so what do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”

“What?” Electro did a double-take, looking back and forth between Otto and Hobgoblin. “I thought the Green Goblin was dead! Since when is he workin' with you, Doc? And since when is he orange?”

“Ah, yes, forgive me for leaving you out of the loop.” As he spoke, Otto strolled his way towards the hole in the wall. “I'm afraid the Hobgoblin and I had to arrange this coup in secret. Escaping from prison is an insultingly easy matter, but only if you have a friend on the outside – As I'm sure you're well aware.”*

*Doc Ock is alluding to the time Electro helped him bust out of jail way back in Spectacular Spider-Man ep 11, Group Therapy, as any Marvelite worth their mustard will remember! – Continuity Police

“Y'know, I'm surprised you two get along so well,” said Scorpion. “I'd think you'd be fightin' over who gets to be the Big Man or whatever.”

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” Hobgoblin said with a shrug. “But as for now, let's just say Otto and I have bonded over our mutual hobbies...”

Just then, there was a sudden rumble, followed by a metal harness pulling itself through the hole in the wall, supported by four mechanical tendrils.

“...such as bug-squishing.”

Dilbert Trilby's face was plastered on the TV again.

“...dramatic footage from the rooftop of the Bliss Private Hospital, where earlier tonight the team of supervillains known as the 'Sinister Six' stole a camera from a gathering news crew to deliver a dire message.”

The footage cut to a close up of Doctor Octopus's face. His glasses had been traded for those menacing eyepieces of his, his hospital gown had been traded for his trademark brown trenchcoat, and considering his hands were free, it was a safe bet the camera was being held via his newly-returned tentacle-arms.

“Listen well, Spider-Man. We both know you can't resist playing the hero. Come to this hospital rooftop so my associates and I can execute you, and come alone. Or else we'll- Hmm...” He glanced off-camera. “Let's see, shall we have Rhino topple the building or simply have Electro cause a blackout? I do believe there are several life-saving surgeries scheduled for tonight.” He looked back to center-screen. “Well, you get the idea. See you soon, arachnid.”

The screen cut to black.

“Hey-!” On the other side of the TV, Peter spun towards Gwen, startled. The two of them had been camped out in Gwen's bedroom, holding onto the news’s every word until Gwen had grabbed the remote. “Gwen, what are you-?”

“You can't fight them!” Behind her glasses, Gwen's eyes were bulging. Peter could hear her heartbeat loud and clear, and super-hearing wasn't one of his powers. “It's a death sentence.”

“Gwen, Gwen, calm down.” Of course, Peter wasn't thrilled at this news, either, but he couldn't let it show. Gwen was upset enough without the big strong superhero freaking out, too. “It's okay. I've beat the Sinister Six before.”

“Yeah, and your biggest handicap back then was a burnt tongue!” snapped Gwen. “You weren't half-delirious and sleep-deprived from saving people all weekend long.”

“I...” Peter faltered. She had a point. Right now, Peter could barely lift his head without his muscles screaming in protest. Heck, he didn't even want to throw down with Sinister Six version three. What he really wanted was to drop everything and hunt for Walter Hardy... except Walter Hardy wasn't holding up a hospital full of innocent people at the moment.

Peter took a breath. “It doesn't matter, Gwen.” He sat up on the mattress, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “If I don't do something, people will get hurt. That's what 'great power, great responsibility' means.”

“But you don't have great power right now!” Gwen was beginning to sound more than a little frantic. “A light breeze could knock you over.”

Peter gave a feeble smile. “I'm less exhausted than I look. Honest.” Honest. That was a good one.

“Can't you let someone else handle this?” Gwen asked, sullen. “The police or-?”

“You heard Doc Ock,” said Peter. “If the Six see a police copter flying their way or anything, they'll start killing hostages.”

Gwen bowed her head, defeated. “What do I tell your aunt?”

“Say the Bugle asked me to take pictures of the fight.” Peter kissed her forehead, then grabbed his backpack from the foot of the bed. “From a safe distance, of course.” He unzipped it to reveal a bundle of red and blue spandex. By now, Peter was a master quick-change artist. Not a moment later, a fully-uniformed Spider-Man was unlatching Gwen's bedroom window.

“Peter?”

He glanced back.

“Are you sure you have to do this?”

“Gwen, I-” Spider-Man swung his head back around... only to find a crimson creature baring its fangs at him, its claws dripping with dark liquid. Whuh-? Double take.

A tree. It was just a tree outside.

“Yeah. I'm sure.”

Chapter Text

Thwip. “Ow!”Geez, even just web-swinging made it feel like Spider-Man's arms were gonna get torn out their sockets. Every last cell in his brain was shrieking that Peter needed to nap for at least twelve hours, but he tuned them out.

The patients. Think of all those emergency room patients who need surgery. The emergency room… like where that old man had been sent…

Peter only hallucinated Carnage four or five more times before arriving at the hospital.

He perched himself on the wall of the neighboring building, studying the Sinister Six from afar. Spider-Man could see their silhouettes against the city lights. Their backs were turned to him, and it looked like Kraven and Sandman had been swapped out for Scorpion and Hobgoblin. The old order changeth and all that.

Okay, okay, he could do this. Spidey had the element of surprise. He would simply knock Electro into Rhino's face, electrocuting them both unconscious, then web Hobgoblin's pumpkin bombs and swing 'em into Doc Ock's metal arms, then punch Scorpion and Mysterio really hard over and over again until they passed out. Easy peasy.

There, plan formed, now Spidey needed to hurry up and beat the Six. He'd like to line his costume with rubber or something before kicking Electro, but he had a feeling if he took too long, the Sinister Six would take out their impatience on the hostages.

Alright... Spider-Man took a deep breath. Here went nothing. Ow, ow, even breathing made his chest ache.

“Please, hold the applause! I'm blushing!” Spider-Man pounced towards the rooftop. His foot made a beeline for the back of Electro's head... “Agh! Wha-?” ...and promptly sailed clean through it.

Spidey hit the pavement just in time to see all six supervillains flicker out of existence as the rooftop filled with pea green fog.

“An amusing effort, Earthling,” said a booming, British voice, “but I'm afraid you fell right into our trap.”

“'Earthling?'” Before he could so much as make a smart remark, Spidey's sense tingled and he found himself dodging a sudden scorpion stinger from the smoke.

“That is correct.” Beside Scorpion, Fishbowl-head himself emerged from the fog, his fists resting smugly on his hips. “I, the M.Y.S.T.E.R.I.O. hive mind of Planet Oiretsym from the Xisretsinis galaxy, have finally revealed my true form – or at least the closest your feeble human mind can come to comprehending it.”

“Right, riiiiiiiiiiiight.” Spidey swung at fist at Mysterio, but, surprise, he was another hologram. “So you were just pretending to be a bowl cut-wearing loser. Got it.”

The next thing he knew, there was an entire Rhino charging at Spider-Man's face. He flinched, but... his spider-sense didn't tingle. Rhino passed straight through him without leaving a dent. Oh, another hologram.

And then, of course, his spider-sense did tingle and Spidey found himself backflipping over the real Rhino, who'd charged in from the opposite direction.

“See how my alien mind tricks make you question the very nature of reality itself?” The Mysterio-hologram let out a hearty laugh. “And now I shall unleash my spawn upon you.” He started waving his arms, chanting, “Credo Elvem ipsum etiam vivere!”

With another plume of smoke, a horde of gargoyles – sorry, a horde of winged aliens appeared around their master.

“Kill the spider!”

“Kill the spider!”

“I've forgotten what I started fighting for!”

Spider-Man tried to dodge, but space was limited on this rooftop. He couldn't tumble out of the robots' flight path without tumbling into range of Scorpion's tail or Hobgoblin's pumpkin bombs, and, honestly, Spidey's reflexes weren't at peak performance right now. One of the bug-bots actually nicked his shoulder before he could smash them all.

“Why-? Ow.” Spidey clutched his wound, backing towards the edge of the roof. “Why would a space alien speak Latin?”

“What?” Mysterio gave a start. “Oh, well, um, obviously, my race was the one who taught humans language when we visited them thousands of years ago, just as we taught them irrigation and agriculture.”

“Huh.” Spidey contemplated this as he tumbled out of the way of Scorpion's projectile acid. “That sounds kinda like the plot of the fourth Ind-”

“Don't you dare speak of that atrocity in my presence!” Mysterio's accent was all but abandoned as he started ranting and raving, swinging his arms wildly. “I was hired to do the practical effects for that movie! It was going to launch my career! I had the most convincing prairie dog puppet I'd ever built all ready to go, and then some IDIOT decided to replace it with CGI!”

“Alright, Mysterio, you've had your fun.” Suddenly, the fog dispersed as Hobgoblin swooped his glider down onto the center of the rooftop. “Give someone else a turn to monologue.” He tossed another pumpkin bomb.

“Hobby, is that you?” Spidey tried to swing it into Doc Ock's arms, but he just hit another hologram doppelganger. Darn, this had been so much easier in his head. “I can never tell you apart from all the other lame Green Goblin impersonators. There's the Orange Orc, the Burgundy Bugbear-”

“That's enough!”

Both Spider-Man's and Hobgoblin's heads shot around. Electro was standing by a fusebox by the door to the stairs, and Doc Ock was looming over him, lifted into the air by his tentacle arms.

“I've heard about as much quipping as I can stand,” said Doctor Octopus, his eyes narrowing behind his eyepieces. “Get on your knees with your hands over your head, arachnid. I assume you remember the threat we made on the news regarding those surgeries.” He looked down at Electro, whose hands crackled threateningly in front of the fuse box.

“Really, Electro?” Spidey cocked his head. “You'd seriously murder a whole building of innocent people over, what, petty revenge?”

“I- Well-” Electro sighed and shut his glowing eyes. “Alright, you caught our bluff. I wouldn't.” He drew back from the box.

“I knew it.” Spidey found himself smiling. “Now if you'll just stop terrorizing everybody and cooperate with-”

“But I'd gladly murder YOU!” Zap.

Okay, maybe Spider-Man should have lined his suit with rubber. His spider-sense went off like a foghorn, but electricity kinda tended to move fast, and Spidey's reflexes weren't exactly at peak condition. He found himself hurtling off the roof like a ragdoll.

Of course, Spider-Man's muscles had already been aching like crazy, and the electrocution really didn't help matters. It was all he could do just to close his fingers around his web shooter so he wouldn't go splat on the pavement. Good thing that “proportional strength of a spider” thing applied to Spidey's heart, too, or else he'd be deader than the Hypno-Hustler's gimmick.

Spidey tried to swing away to recuperate, but before he could even make it halfway through the arc, a metal tentacle wrapped around his leg. “Agh!” Spider-Man was yanked back onto the rooftop and dangled upside-down by his foot. “Uh oh. I've seen enough hentai to know where-”

“Shut up!” Smack. One of Ock's tentacles stopped Spidey mid-quip. “I can't even begin to articulate the glee it will bring me to silence that incessant chatter of yours forever.” The arm slammed Spider-Man onto the pavement.

With a grand effort, Spidey managed to peel himself out of his crater – only to immediately be flattened again by a charging Rhino.

It was getting hard to see the Sinister Six behind all the stars in his vision. Spider-Man was no stranger to pain, but he wasn't sure he could take much more of this. His spider-sense was literally buzzing nonstop. The villains made a distressingly tight circle around the hero – Rhino cracking his knuckles, Scorpion tensing his stinger, Mysterio conjuring his robots, Electro sparking his palms, Hobgoblin readying his bomb, Doc Ock raising his tentacles, Carnage morphing his hand…

Spider-Man tried to move, but his limbs were having a bit of trouble following orders. Maybe... Maybe he could take a second to rest right here… He had been meaning to sleep lately… Been so tired all weekend… Eyelids were shutting all on their own. Head throbbing. Throat dry.

Spidey managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see the claws on one of Ock's tentacles start spinning around like a saw blade. It was getting hard to think straight with his head throbbing so much...

Whrrrrrrr. The blade drew nearer.

Spider-Man's eyes squeezed shut-

Whrrrrrrrrrrrr-

-and Gwen's worried face flashed behind them.

-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-

He was so stupid. Why hadn't he listened to her?

-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-

You could've saved me.

Ock’s saw blades were milometers away from Spider-Man’s neck when a shot rang out across the rooftop.

“What-?”

“Hey-!”

The next instant, Electro crumpled to the ground – Some kinda gigantic tranquilizer dart had just lodged itself in his neck, moving clean through his containment suit.

“A sniper.” Doc Ock was the first to catch on. He dropped Spidey with a thud, returning his attention to the surrounding roofs. “Show yourself, coward!”

Spider-Man honestly thought the guy would be met with silence, but he actually got a clear, booming answer via megaphone: “Surrender, Octavius. We have you outgunned.”

From within his crater in the roof, Spider-Man's head went skyward. His vision may have been a bit on the fuzzy side at the moment, but Spidey could at least see who the cavalry was comprised of – a swarm of police helicopters. With Electro sniped, it seemed they’d gotten bold enough to swoop in real close. Naturally, by this point, the rest of the Sinister Six had scattered in terror. Mysterio and Scorpion made a bee-line for the stairs, but Rhino was too big to fit. He looked like he was considering diving off the rooftop, but he was stopped by a tentacle grabbing his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Doctor Octopus snarled. “Topple the hospital already!”

“The whole hospital? But I thought that was just a bluff-” Rhino didn’t have long to argue, though, before a tranq gas grenade landed at his oversized feet. “Aw, not again-!” With a hiss and a thump, Rhino, too, toppled over.

Mysterio and Scorpion were the next to succumb to the gas, but there was at least one team member capable of flying over the stuff.

“No you don’t!” Thwip. With a sudden second wind, Spider-Man leaped onto a nearby wall, then shot a quickly-spun web onto the Hobgoblin’s glider and yanked with all his might. It wasn’t enough to make the glider crash, but it did bring Hobby low enough to inhale some of that yummy tranq gas… which subsequently made the glider crash.

Five down, one to go.

“I won’t soon forget this, you wretched-!” Pew. A lucky shot from a plasma rifle shut Ock up – It’d gone through a gap in all four arms to hit his gut square in the torso, toppling him straight into the gas cloud.

From his perch on the adjacent wall, Spider-Man let out a whistle. Soon as the smoke and/or tranquilizer fumes cleared, he hopped back over to the rooftop. By then, the helicopter had landed and officers in full-on riot gear had poured out.

One officer in particular was right in the middle of unmasking the latest goblin.

“Lefty Donovan.” Captain Stacy held up the rubber mask. Its owner was, it turned out, a completely unremarkable thug. “His family reported him missing a couple days ago.” Stacy gave his chin a scratch. “But I seriously doubt he’d have the initiative to involve himself in all this. Not without someone else pulling his strings…”

“Another brainwashed mook?” Spider-Man’s charming voice sent all heads his way. “Ugh, the Hobgoblin's secret ID has got to be the most convoluted…” He was now standing across from the armored police squad, hands on his hips. “Swear to God, if he has an identical twin brother, I'm gonna flip out.”

“Spider-Man.” Captain Stacy didn’t so much as smile at him from behind that tactical helmet. “You alright, son? You looked like you took a real beating back there.” He gestured to all the brown and red poking out the torn spandex.

“Oh, y-yeah, I'm cool,” said Spider-Man, clutching his arm. “My spider-powers let me heal pretty quick. That's not a thing spiders are known for, but, uh...”

“Sorry we couldn't act sooner. We had to make sure there was no risk to the hostages.”

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for the save.” Spider-Man paused. “Oh, but make sure Mysterio didn’t swap himself out for a robot double. He does that-”

“Don’t thank us yet, Spider-Man.” The sudden cold in Stacy’s voice made Spidey wince.

“What-?” His spider-sense was tingling. Not in a “you’re in mortal danger” kinda way, but in a cautionary-little-buzzing kinda way. That tended to happen when a whole police squad was aiming their plasma rifle barrels right in your face. Spider-Man would’ve found himself tensing with or without spider-sense.

“If we’d acted a second later, you wouldn’t be talking to us right now.” Captain Stacy met Spider-Man’s big, white eyes with his clear, blue, unwavering ones. “What you did tonight was nothing short of stupid.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice came out waaay sharper than he’d meant. “Well, excuse me for not wanting a building full of helpless patients to-”

“If you wanted to protect them, why didn’t you consult with us before acting?” Stacy snapped. “We could’ve devised a plan together.”

The only response the words generated was a resounding silence.

“Listen to me, Spider-Man.” Captain Stacy’s eyes went sharp and narrow the way they did when he was giving out a demerit in criminology. He never once raised his voice, but somehow the calmness made him sound all the angrier. “I tolerate your vigilantism because, when it comes to threats like Carnage, your track record is still miles ahead of the NYPD’s metahuman response force… but never forget that I know who you are, and if I feel like you’ve become too reckless for your own good, I won’t hesitate to unmask you and put your loved ones into witness protection. Do I make myself clear?”

On Spider-Man’s end of the rooftop, the silence continued to resonate. Finally, though, Spider-Man said, “Crystal.”

If Captain Stacy had anything else to say, Spider-Man didn’t hear it. He was too busy web-swinging off into the night.

“Ugh...” Gradually, Rhino's eyes opened and the bleariness faded, revealing a cold, gray surface. It took him a moment to realize he was staring at the ceiling. “What the-?” His first impulse was to bolt upright, except that when he tried, Rhino didn't budge. There were straps around his limbs and torso, and no matter how hard he squirmed, they wouldn't so much as wiggle. Nuts. Someone had sprung for the adamantium restraints.

Rhino was about to call out to see if anyone was there, but then a voice hit his ears. A voice that sent chills down his neck. A voice that made goosebumps break out beneath his rhinoceros-like hide. The absolute last voice the Rhino wanted to hear ever.

“Alexander.” Curt Connors leaned down into Rhino's field of vision.

“W-What are you gonna do to me?” Rhino's teeth chattered. He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Curt sighed. “Well, Alexander, if you remember, the agreement your lawyer worked out was that the government couldn't experiment on you so long as you exhibited good behavior. But… I'd say threatening to topple a hospital violates those terms.”

“No,” Rhino said faintly. “No, no, no! You can't do this to me! You're sick!”

“I assure you, there's no lethal risk involved,” said Curt. “We've already tested the procedure on Mark, and it was highly successful.” But then he glanced away. “Unfortunately, since your subdermal armor's too thick for us to monitor your vitals, we, err, can't safely sedate you like we did him. But try to relax. It won't be that bad, I promise.” Curt gave him a soothing pat on his armored shoulder. “When your skin grows back, it'll look very normal.” He paused. “Ideally.”

Reportedly, Rhino's screams were audible from the far side of the Vault.

Hours later, a much wearier Curt Connors trudged into the Vault's hospital wing and plopped himself down in the chair beside his wife’s. Martha had been watching Mark's heavily-bandaged chest rise and fall from within his nearby bed, but she looked up at Curt’s approach.

“Everything okay?”

“Three operations in one night!” Curt buried his palms in his forehead. “I want to help as many metahumans as I can, especially after…” He faltered. “…after Michael passed, but… the constant flights to Florida and back… They’re taking their toll.”

“Well, look on the bright side – You cured those people like you wanted.” Martha nodded to the far side of the room.

In the bed directly across from Mark's, a much smaller and much lighter Alex O'Hirn was resting under the covers with about half a billion different pain meds shooting into his arm. Now he looked less like a rhinoceros, more like a mummy.

And, of course, his sleep was made difficult by the short, wrinkled, bespectacled old lady crouched over his bed and speaking in a voice that'd make dogs howl in pain: “Alexander O'Hirn, what did I say would happen if you went to jail again?”

“Aw, momma-”

“What did I say would happen?”

Alex bowed his head. “I... I can't stay in your basement no more.”

“You're darn right you can't! How did I raise such a shameless little criminal, huh? Where'd I go wrong, Alexander? Where'd I go wrong?”

Back on the other end of the hospital, Martha snickered.

Another voice snickered, too, but for a different reason – Curt and Martha turned to the third occupied bed, in which rested a third man in a full-body cast.

“You think you 'cured' us?” About the only portion of Mac Gargan's body not covered in bandages was his face, which was currently contorted into quite the sneer. “Please. Soon as I'm free, I'll find some other mad scientist to give me powers. And if not me, someone else'll come along and do it. Sorry to bust your bubble, but there's a lot more where me and Rhino came from.”

“Is that so?” Martha scowled at him, arms folded. “Like who, exactly?”

“Mr. Kingsley, sir.” A door opened on a darkened room, and in entered a monkey suit-wearing man with absolutely perfect posture. “Octavius failed. He and his associates were captured – including Lefty Donovan.”

Instead of replying, Kingsley took a deep whiff of the perfume bottle in his hands, exhaled slowly… and then tossed it to the ground, sending a mixture of glass and fumes into the air. “Still can't get the fragrance quite right, can we?” He chuckled to himself. “Well, like I always say, if you want something done right... brainwash someone more competent into doing it for you.”

Kingsley turned to another figure in the corner – one covered in even more shadows than Kingsley himself.

“Cassandra? You have work to do.”

By the time Peter reached Forest Hills, it was pitch black out. For once, he'd actually shelled out the money for the subway because he was too flat-out exhausted to web-swing.

Peter shut the door to the Parker household behind him, his tattered costume stuffed haphazardly into his backpack, praying he could make it up to his room without Aunt May noticing the blood or the bruises or the limp. He'd almost made it to the staircase when he caught sight of someone in the living room armchair.

But it wasn't Aunt May. It was Gwen, her tear-stained face lit by the pale light of the TV. The TV that was currently playing news footage of the Sinister Six smearing Spider-Man into the pavement.

“Gwen?” Peter rushed to her side. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong?” Gwen repeated, incredulous. “What's wrong? The news has been showing you getting shot, beaten, and electrocuted on repeat for over an hour.”

“Keep your voice down,” Peter said in a harsh whisper, shooting wary glances around the room. “Where's Aunt May?”

“Sleeping,” Gwen said tightly. “She thought you were perfectly safe taking pictures with your nonexistent zoom lens. She didn't get why I was freaking out so bad.” Gwen hugged her arms. They were shaking.

“Gwen, I'm sorry- Hey!” Peter took a step towards her, but before he could get close, Gwen sprang out of her seat and backed away. “Look, I'm sorry I scared you, but I'm really okay- Ow.” Dang it, Peter had put his weight on his foot the wrong way, and now it stung like crazy. “I've got superpowers, remember? I heal faster, I can take more punishment-”

“Doctor Octopus was about to slice your head off!”

“Yeah, well, that's not the first time the bad guys have come close, but I always-” Okay, judging from her face, that wasn't the right thing to say. “I mean, it wasn't like I was in real danger. You saw it all on the news, right? Your dad saved me. It was actually pretty awes-”

“That's another thing!” Gwen's voice was so shrill, it cracked a bit. “My dad was on top of it! You almost died for nothing. You-” A sniffle escaped her throat. “You almost died. I... I thought you were dead.”

“Gwen...” This time she accepted the hug. “I'm sorry – I mean it. I swear, I really thought it was up to me.”

“That's the thing, though.” Gwen let out a bitter, bitter laugh. “You always think it's up to you.”

“What's with this attitude?” The words came out with so much more bite than Peter had meant that he found himself withdrawing from the hug. “I just risked my life trying to save a bunch of people I'll never meet – Heck, I've been doing it nonstop since last summer – and, y'know, I hate to sound too entitled, but a 'thank you' every now and then would be nice.” Crap, now he was the one who needed to keep his voice down. “I’ve beaten Ock and his goons a billion times apiece, but they get in one lucky shot, and suddenly your dad’s treating me like an amateur-”

“He’s treating you like that because I asked him to.” Gwen made another incredulous laugh, and this time she didn't sound even remotely amused. “And I should’ve done it sooner. God, I’ve been an idiot. I honestly thought you were invincible, and all these monsters would just give up eventually, but-”

“You know what being Spider-Man means to me, Gwen!” Peter snapped. “If the bad guys don’t stop coming, then neither do I.”

“The bad guys keep coming because of you! They only threatened that hospital to draw you out-”

“Yeah, because I’m the only thing stopping guys like Ock from taking the Big Man throne and having their way with the city.”

“But- But it’s- You’re not changing anything!” By this point, Gwen was reduced to sputtering at him. “All you’re doing is punching people, and then they break out of jail and you punch them again, and then they break out again, and- and that only ends one way, Peter.”

The words shot up Peter’s throat and straight out his mouth, totally circumventing his brain: “Well, if that’s how it’s gotta be.”

“You want to die.” It wasn't a question. Gwen put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and watering. “That is literally what you just told me.”

Peter blinked. “What? No, that's not what I-”

“You want to die! You think it's your fault your uncle's dead, so now you won't be happy until you're dead, too!”

They weren't even that loud, but somehow, the words reverberated like a church bell. Peter could take a beating. Getting smacked, getting shot at, getting deep fried by some plasma-spewing supervillain… He could take all that because… because when it came down to it, not fighting bad guys hurt him a lot more than fighting them.

But this? Hearing those words from this person?

“Gwen, I-”

She didn't even give him a chance to speak. She just slammed the front door behind her and bolted off into the night.

Peter's first impulse was to go after her, but even running to the front door made his legs burn. Instead, Peter found himself collapsing into the very same armchair his girlfriend had spent the past few hours in. His eyes fell on the TV screen, staring at it.

Spider-Man's execution?! the ticker-tape proclaimed as the news played the clip of Electro zapping Spidey half to death in super slow motion. Absently, Peter laid his hand down, then flinched. The armrest was damp. Peter's eyes clamped shut, and suddenly his head was impossible to lift.

For the first time that night, Peter hurt.

End of Lesson 2

Chapter Text

Lesson 3 : Business 101

Hobie shut the door behind him as softly as he could. The one leading to the drama club’s prop room was always creaky, but then, Hobie supposed it hardly mattered, seeing as he was the only person back here at this hour-

“Guess who?”

“Agh!” The moment his back was turned, Hobie found a pair of hands over his eyes. “Mary Jane-?”

“Ooh, good guess.” At this, she released him. “What gave it away? The foxy voice? Or just that little flutter of joy you get in your gut when I’m near?”

“W-What are you doing here this early?” Hobie spun to hide his backpack from her line of sight. But that only gave him a better look at his attacker. Wha-? Oh, that skirt could not be dress code.

“Waiting for you, silly.” MJ tapped her pointer finger to his chest. “You think I haven’t noticed you hanging out back here every morning?”

“I, uh, didn’t know anyone paid that much attention to me...”

“But seriously, Hobie, I just wanted to say-” For a moment, MJ’s brow creased. “-our drama teach is crazy for not casting you as Biff. You totally nailed that role.”

“Oh.” Hobie blinked. “Wow. Thanks. That’s… That’s actually really nice of you.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“Well, hey, at least I’m Happy, right?”

“Actually, you look like you could still use some cheering up.”

“No, I meant- Err, never mind...” A moment passed. “Hey, MJ? You wanna, like, hang out or something after school? To… cheer me up?” Well, that was the smoothest Hobie had ever sounded.

He could see MJ’s eyes growing brighter. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Great, great.” Hobie tried not to exhale too loudly. “That’s great.”

Another moment passed.

Then MJ stood on tippy-toes to look over his shoulder. “So what’s in the backpack? An elephant?”

“What-? It’s nothing! I mean, uh-” Hobie zipped it all the way shut. “Just textbooks and- and normal backpack things. Ha! What a weird question. Hey, I gotta go, but we’re definitely hanging out after class. See you then!” He scurried away from backstage without another word.

“I’m counting down the minutes!” MJ called after him.

Geez, Mary Jane really knew how to make a guy sweat.

Geez, Hobie really knew how to make a gal scratch her head. She’d checked the prop room, like, three times, and Mary Jane hadn’t seen anything near cool enough to swipe. But then, she supposed that was because Hobie had already swiped it, whatever it was. MJ had even rummaged through the trash. Nothing. Phht, what’d she expected to find? Another crumpled up picture of her?

...Okay, that was one of those thoughts that needed to be filed away into the “never again” section of MJ’s brain. Along with the other, like, 75% of her thoughts.

Mary Jane had been kinda peeved she’d come here so early and hadn’t even gotten to hang out with Hobie for more than a minute, but then, lounging around at school waiting for class to start was still infinitely preferable to lounging around at home waiting for class to start.

She was almost feeling better when MJ made the mistake of leaving the auditorium and heading to the entrance hall. Instantly, she spotted the cute blonde with the glasses huddled near the cute brunette with the beauty mark. Of course, the sight of Gwen with Peter at her side was normally enough to melt MJ’s heart on the coldest of days, but not when the two of them were engaged in a whisper-battle with each other.

Uh oh. Mary Jane’s relationship drama sense was tingling! She scurried over just in time to catch the tail end of it:

“...your dad does basically the same thing. Does that mean you can’t love HIM?”

“That’s exactly it, though! I already have to go through this with my dad, and now you just expect me to…? It’s too much, Peter! This isn’t what I thought it’d be. It was fun at first, but-”

“I really think you’re blowing this out of propor-”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, but I can’t be AROUND you!” It was at this point that Gwen bolted for it down the hall, leaving Peter alone to glower at the tile floor, hands in his shorts’ pockets.

The little show hadn’t gone unnoticed – The obligatory lineup of jocks in the hallway snickered with schadenfreude. In fact, Mary Jane was literally the only onlooker with worry on her face. Great, the lovebirds had gone their separate ways. Now MJ had to choose which one was worth her time first. Ugh, MJ hated having to choose.

But if she had to, then MJ supposed she’d go in the order of lowest to highest self-esteem. “Gwen? Is everything okay with you two?”

“No.” Gwen spun towards her, revealing the water bubbles accumulating on those glasses. “We broke up, so- so that’s about as far from ‘okay’ as it could possibly get.”

MJ winced. There was something uncannily close to real, physical pain in her chest. “What happened?”

Silence. “Look, I know you mean well, Mary Jane, and I’m sorry, but can you please not ask?”

“Oh.” Now the pain was more of an ache. “Y-Yeah, if that’s really what you...”

“I need to be alone right now.” Gwen pushed past her, but not before muttering, “I’ve had enough crying-sessions in front of you for one lifetime...”

Wow. MJ had been abandoned. Again. Well, fine, if that’s how Gwen was gonna be…

“Tiger?” Mary Jane found Peter at his locker. He looked like he’d been staring into it for the past five minutes.

“Oh, MJ.” He flinched at her approach. Y’know, sometimes that amused MJ, but she wished guys didn’t have to do it every time she approached them. “Hey. Guess you saw…?”

“Yeah, I witnessed the crime, but I haven’t filed my dating police incident report yet.” Mary Jane shook her head. “God, this sucks...”

“You’re telling me.”

“I’d thought everything was perfect between you guys.”

Peter huffed. “Same. The breakup came out of nowhere.” He paused, then added, “I mean, it’s more like Gwen dumped me.”

“I’m sorry.” MJ took a breath. “I’ve had some experience with that, too, lately.”

The remark raised Peter’s eyebrow. “You’ve been dumped before? You?”

A smile couldn’t help but force itself on Mary Jane’s lips. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?”

Peter seemed to be in a similar situation. “Well, thanks for talking to me. I’m pretty sure you’re the only other student here who doesn’t think this development is the funniest thing ever, so… y’know, I appreciate that.”

For a moment, the two of them stood in place.

“Can I ask why Gwen would-?”

“Sorry, it’s really between me and her.”

“It’s alright, I get it.” Mary Jane sighed. “But if you ever need someone to talk to about all this nonsense...”

“Oh.” Peter blinked. Then smiled. “I’d like that, actually. Thanks. Could you… meet up after class?”

“Yeah, of c- Ugh, wait!” MJ brought a hand to her scalp. “I’m hanging out with another guy then. But when I’m done with that, I can call-” She caught herself. “I just realized... we’ve been friends for months and I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, y-yeah, here...” Peter fished his Osberry out of his pocket. “Duh. Weird that we never… noticed that before.”

“Yeah, weird,” said MJ. “Well, hey, problem solved. Now we can talk to each other whenever we want to about...”

“...how much fun it is to be single?” finished Peter.

“Right, right.”

“Seriously, I kinda sprang straight from Liz to Gwen before. I’d like to savor it this time around.”

“Oh, I know,” MJ said as retrieved her own phone. “The first night I didn’t have to vote on which Netflix show to watch, I almost cried.” The two of them got to work adding each other to their contacts, but midway through the process, Mary Jane paused to frown at Peter. “Just… keep this between us, okay? I don’t want Gwen to think-”

“Yeah, well, Gwen thinks a lot of things.” Peter was visibly fighting to keep his eyes from rolling. “I can’t change up my whole life just to accommodate all her irrational fears.”

“Guess you’re right...” They finished swapping numbers without another word.

Before they went their separate ways, Peter said, “Hey, MJ? Thanks. You’re a great friend.”

“Yeah.” Mary Jane met his eyes. “You, too.” His super dark chestnut eyes.

But then the bell rang and MJ had to scamper off.

Even once she’d reached her classroom, Mary Jane’s thoughts were back with that locker. Those conversations with the fractured lovebirds hadn’t left MJ as enlightened as she’d hoped. What on earth could’ve possibly torn them apart…?

It seemed MJ was the only kid wasting brain power on that subject, though. All the other ones were too busy going on about last night’s super cool battle between Spider-Man and the Sinister Six, where Spider-Man had gotten his butt whooped and the NYPD had needed to bail him out.

You’d think, this close to summer vacation, the notion of a dead silent classroom would be unthinkable. Yet here they were. The teacher had even gone out of the room for a minute on an errand, and still this place was quiet as a tomb. It was unnatural.

So unnatural, in fact, it made Flash’s hands shake as he clutched his desk. With every passing moment, they shook harder and harder until…

“I can’t TAKE it anymore!”

…Flash was on his feet, and every last startled eye was fixed on him.

“Sha Shan broke up with me, Rand broke up with Sally, Parker broke up with Liz-” Flash’s finger jabbed itself in the face of each listed student in turn. “-Mark broke up with MJ because he’s in jail, and now even the geek and geekette have split up, and they were friggin’ MADE for each other!” Finally, Flash turned his attention to the student body as a whole. “Is there anyone in this classroom who isn’t miserable?”

The silence lasted minutes.

“I was in a pretty good mood, actually-”

“SHUT UP, SEYMOUR.”

Flash slammed the classroom door so hard, it was a wonder its hinges remained intact.

After that, Flash found himself in the moist, grungy men’s room, splashing tap water on his face in a futile attempt to slow his breathing. Class was in session, of course, so Flash was the only one in here.

At first.

“Hey, man…” Lo and behold, who should follow in after Flash but Puny Parker himself. The guy looked so miserable, Flash almost felt sorry for him. “Look, don’t feel too bad about… you know. I mean, I was on the verge of screaming, myself. You totally stole my thunder.”

Peter simpered, but he received no response for his efforts, and so his face went neutral. “Look…” He took a breath. “You know what I think’s going on? This place has got a huge divide between the nerds and the cool kids – yeah, even fancy magnet schools aren’t safe – and it’s, like, the biblical root of all evil in Midtown High. Pretty sure Rand broke up with Sally cuz she refused to give the bullying a rest, and Liz was basically ostracized for dating me, and then, of course, I’m the authority on getting shoved into lockers…” The way he said it, Peter struck the perfect balance between self-righteous and self-deprecating. “My point is, this place drains people’s egos. So when a theater geek… or a band geek… thinks a guy might like her, it… makes her feel good about herself. But then she puts all her worth on your shoulders, so when you… do stupid stuff… it’s kinda devastating to her.” He paused. “Okay, did that make any sense, or do I just sound like a crazy person?”

“It made sense.” Flash stepped towards the guy… then surprised himself by clapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. And, listen, these past couple years…” With only slight hesitation, he admitted, “…I’ve been an asshole to you, and that’s stopping right now. You’re a good guy, Park-” He caught himself. “Peter.”

Peter made a soft, earnest laugh. “Don’t mention it. You always have been a guy who can see when his friends are trying to help.”

Peter hung his head as he trudged down Midtown High’s depressingly upbeat halls. Well, at least now Flash had gotten some sage advice to help with his girl problem…

In fact, Peter was, apparently, the only student still in a sour mood. All the other ones were smiling and laughing and going on about their impending summer vacation. It was mere weeks away at this point – weeks Peter would be spending hunting for Vault escapees. Not that he was holding his breath. Spider-Man had already wasted the rest of his weekend scouring the streets yesterday, but he hadn’t found so much as a white hair from Black Cat or her dad. Or Silver S- Okay, a lot of his enemies were snow-capped.

Normally, Peter would've vamooshed now that the bell had rung, but he hesitated as he passed a certain locker... and a certain unmistakable, salmon-colored headband atop a mop of blonde hair. Gwen's back was turned to him. Good, she hadn’t seen-

“So did Mary Jane make you feel any better?” Gwen asked without turning around.

“What?” Peter nearly did a pratfall. “How do you know about-?”

“I didn’t. That was a shot in the dark. Though I guess my aim was true...”

Geez, wasn’t Peter’s spider-sense supposed to warn him of this kinda thing? “She’s just a friend.”

“I know that,” said Gwen, “and I never said anything to imply otherwise.”

“Sure you didn’t.” It was a good thing Gwen wasn’t facing him so she couldn’t see how hard Peter’s eyes were rolling. “At this rate, I really am gonna develop a death wish-”

“That’s not funny.” Gwen stormed off without another word.

Actually, Peter had expected to hear the slam of her locker, but it looked like she’d forgotten to shut it. Peter stepped forward to do it for her… which was when he caught sight of the picture hanging in it.

It was of a smiling woman. Blonde, pretty, kind of a softer face, not at all unlike Gwen’s, only with rounder glasses and a few more wrinkles. Peter recognized her from the background on Gwen's phone. Gwen had lost her in a car crash. The more statistically likely scenario compared to Peter's and Eddie's.

“And that’s when I realized I was being an asshole.”

“Language, Peter.”

“Sorry, sorry...” For the umpteenth time that day, Peter hung his head. He was currently camped out on a kitchen chair while Aunt May toiled over the stove across from him. “It’s just, well, Gwen didn’t return my calls or texts at all yesterday, so I guess I got ticked at her. But butting heads with her only made things a jillion times worse.” Yeah, interning with Gwen after class today hadn’t been fun. Looked like they were back to doing it in dead silence.

“Every couple in this world fights, Peter,” Aunt May said as she reached for her mixing bowl. “Heaven knows things weren’t always smooth sailing between me and Ben… but I only wish you’d tell me why you and Gwen broke up.”

Peter could only shake his head. But after a moment, he suddenly asked, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit left in the dark about your life-”

“No, I mean are you okay because you’re putting pepper in the banana cake mix?” Peter rose from his seat.

“Oh, goodness!” May dropped the pepper shaker like it was scalding hot, letting it clatter to the counter top. “Now I’ll have to throw the whole batch out.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Peter, I don’t mean to worry you. I suppose it’s just...”

“Walter Hardy?” Peter’s voice was barely audible.

May managed a nod. “The thought of- of that man loose in the world again...” She took a steadying breath. “Well, no sense getting worked up over things outside our control. Now how’d you like to help me with the next batch?”

“No thanks,” said Peter, backing towards the front door. “I just remembered something I gotta go do.”

At least Peter had ducked out of the internship early to get to his Bugle job, so Gwen had the last fifteen minutes to herself. Dr. Warren seemed to notice something was up, judging by the way he was frowning at her, but Gwen said nothing to him. And Debra, of course, remained cold and aloof as ever.

Fifteen minutes later, Gwen was strolling down the ESU campus, her backpack slung over her shoulder. She’d have passed for a college student if she wasn’t so tiny.

But then Gwen came upon something that halted her march. A heart-shaped statue decorating the sidewalk. Well, it was more of an abstract shape, but the negative space in its center made a heart.

“I’d never pegged you for a dilettante,” said a voice.

“Oh, Mary Jane-!” Gwen turned to find that unmistakable redhead coming towards her. It was getting warmer out, which MJ had apparently taken as a chance to free her arms, shoulders, legs, and whatever else she could get away with freeing. “What are you doing here?”

MJ gave an apologetic shrug. “Waiting to ambush you in a place with less high schoolers. Look, Gwen, I hate to be pushy, but I did work my butt off to get the Peter-Gwen ship into harbor, and now it’s sinking before my eyes…”

“No, no, it’s okay… I appreciate you coming out here.” Gwen rubbed the bridge of her nose behind her glasses. “Sorry I gave you the cold shoulder this morning. I’m not trying to shut you out. You...” She took a breath. “Well, I guess it sounds silly now, but that crush on Peter was the biggest, most important thing in the world to me, and you were the only other person who- who noticed that and cared.” Slowly, Gwen’s eyes rose to meet MJ’s gaze. “Those couple months I was dating him were honestly the greatest of my life. I owe you more than I could ever…” She trailed off.

The breeze was ruffling MJ’s top. And making Gwen’s cheeks pink. Oh gosh, she could see MJ’s… MJ’s bodice.

“A-Anyways-” Gwen’s eyes flitted back to the statue. “-the truth is, I am kind of a dilettante. I only got into science because Peter was into it – well, Eddie, too, but mostly Peter – and it’s my whole future career now, so I’m stuck interning with him.” Then Gwen’s gaze went to the pavement. “Cutting Peter out of my life feels like mutilating myself. Guess that’s what I get for putting all my eggs in one basket, right?”

MJ frowned. “But if you really feel that way about him, why would you…?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Suddenly, Gwen’s arms were around MJ’s waist. “God, and now I can’t even go back to being ‘just friends’ with him. It’s so awful between us now.” The hug tightened. “You’re my only friend left, Mary Jane.”

“Hey, it’s okay, girl. N-No need to be so dramatic.” Mary Jane brought a hesitant hand to the back of Gwen’s head. “I’ve got a gift for making friends. Remind me to introduce you to Hobie sometime. You’d like him.” She smoothed some stray strands sticking out Gwen’s headband. “Stick with me, and soon you’ll be begging me for some alone time.” MJ paused. “Because of all the friends you’ll be making.”

The two of them held that pose a minute.

“Excuse me!” called out an onlooker. “I just want to let you girls know how brave you are for-”

“No, no, we were just-!” The girls promptly detached themselves.

“We should, err, probably get away from the heart-shaped statue,” said Gwen.

“Yes, let’s...”

The two hurried away without another word, making sure to keep at least three feet between each other at all times.

“Montana? Uh... you okay, buddy?” Fancy Dan and Ox watched for several long minutes as Montana stood with a briefcase in hand, glassy-eyed, staring at the charred remains of a sign that just barely had enough non-scorched paint left on it to read, “Big Sky Lounge.”

“It's alright,” Fancy Dan said gently. “There'll be other pool joints.”

“Y'know, I heard about this one really good bar where guys like us hang out,” said Ox. “What was its name again...?”

“The Bar with No Name,” said Dan.

“Oh. Right.” Ox turned to Montana. “How ’bout it, Montana? You wanna go there?”

Not a single muscle on Montana's face came close to moving. Not even to blink.

“Maybe... Maybe you need a moment.” Fancy Dan turned himself around. “C'mon, Ox, let's give him some time al-”

Montana stepped forward, climbing over the “building condemned” tape and through the door.

“Montana, wait!” yelped Ox, scurrying after him. “That's not safe!”

“You don't want a building falling on top of you!” added Fancy Dan. “Again...”

Nonetheless, both Ox and Fancy Dan found themselves accompanying their comrade inside the shriveled building. Ox coughed and Dan rubbed his eyes, but Montana was apparently unaffected by all the ash wafting through the air. Wordlessly, he marched up to the biggest pile of ash – the pile where a pool table had once stood.

Finally, some words escaped his mouth, barely audible: “Who did this?”

“What?” Ox and Dan snapped to attention.

“I want to know who to kill.” Montana's hand clamped around a charred pool ball.

“Well, the truth is...” Ox bowed his head. “Dan and me read about this in the paper. We- We didn't have the heart to tell you, but… they say this was done by some guy with fire powers. His whole body was flaming.”

Montana spun towards him. “That Fantastic Four punk?”

“No, another fire guy.”

“Well, heck, how many fire guys are there?”

“A lot, actually. See, Johnny Storm is the second Human Torch, and then there's also-”

“Shuttup, now.” Out of nowhere, Montana's body tensed. His eyes narrowed. “Someone's comin'.”

All three Enforcers went deathly quiet. They turned their heads towards the remains of the lounge's entrance – the source of some echoing footsteps growing louder. Finally, the source of the footsteps came into view, pushing his way through the scorched front door. It was a man who, despite the summer heat, was wrapped in a heavy overcoat, his face hidden by a dark hood.

After a moment's silence, the man said, his voice rough and ragged, “Are you Montana?”

Montana pulled himself to his full stature. “Who wants t'know?”

The man chuckled. “Yeah, it's you. No mistaking that accent.” He raised his head, revealing a silver visor over his eyes. “I heard this place was your old haunt. Figured you'd come back here eventually. Only a matter of time.”

Montana snorted. “Son, am I s'posed to know you?”

The man chuckled harder. “I guess not. Not many people do know me...” But his humor quickly vanished. “...but everyone knows the Shocker. Soon as you get a costume and codename, suddenly everyone remembers you, don't they?”

“Eh, not really,” said Ox. “We're C-list villains, to be hon-”

“Shut up.” A pillar of screeching sound erupted from the man's hands. The far wall exploded with enough force to knock the Enforcers off their feet and leave their ears ringing.

“What in tarnation-?” Montana was the first one to regain his composure. He tumbled behind the burned up pool table, stopping only long enough to get a good look at his attacker.

“You tell your boss he can steal as much of my tech as he wants.” The man's coat zipper had come loose to reveal a tangle of tubes and wires all connected to a steel harness around his torso. Apparently, his sonic attack had had enough force to rip his sleeves off, too, exposing the centerpieces of his device – namely, a pair of gauntlets that dwarfed the Shocker's. They were so big around, they made the man's forearms look twice as thick as his upper arms. “I'll just build an improved version and use it to kill his entire criminal empire.”

Chapter Text

There must’ve been some chemical imbalance in the teenage brain that made it physically incapable of putting things into perspective. Peter had just spent, like, half an hour moping to Aunt May about his stupid breakup when that half hour could’ve been spent hunting for Black Cat and her dad. Peter knew he’d promised Gwen’s dad he’d take a break from the web-slinging for while, but that was then, this was now.

Not like it made a difference, though. Spider-Man had just spent two additional hours scouring the streets again to make up for lost time, and he’d gotten the same results as yesterday. Black Cat was just too smart to let herself be found. In fact, if Spider-Man was her, he’d have high-tailed it out of Manhattan by now – Spidey didn’t have enough of a vendetta to chase her that far.

But still… he was kind of tempted to. Just look how torn up Aunt May had been at the news of the escape. Not that you’d ever know it if you took her at face value. Aunt May had been like that ever since they’d lost Uncle Ben – always putting on a brave front. Peter had thought he knew how to see through it, but, well, it turned out Gwen had been hiding her fears all this time, and Peter hadn’t been able to see through that, so…

Not like Peter was one to give others heat for keeping secrets. And when he’d tried to share his secret with someone he cared about, Peter had learned the hard way how much damage it could do. Now Gwen was gonna spend the rest of her life terrified for Peter’s, and there wasn’t a thing Peter could do or say to reassure her. But- But it wasn’t his fault, was it? Not totally. Really, how was Peter supposed to have known Gwen would be so- so sensitive about it? It was Peter’s life being put in danger here, and it’d never bothered him. The Sinister Six had come close to killing him before, and Peter hadn’t, like, freaked out about it. And yeah, Gwen had lost her mom, but if they really wanted to tally up the dead parental figures, Peter kind of, y’know…

Spider-Man was still hung up on this by his third lap past the Hudson. You’re never going to believe it, but he’d been web-swinging aimlessly while having an internal monologue. It was so unlike him, he was starting to scare himself.

Truth was, when Peter had told Aunt May he didn’t want to talk about the breakup, that’d been a bold-faced lie. Peter wanted to talk about it more than anything. It was just… if Gwen was so hurt by learning his secret, Peter didn’t even want to think about how Aunt May would take it. But keeping it completely bottled in was gonna make Peter explode… Who else could he confide in? Gwen’s dad? Yeah, no. Ugh, Peter wished there was someone he could go to who wouldn’t be too… serious.

Oh yeah.

Hoo boy, the summer breeze was practically begging Peter to look at Mary Jane’s underbodice. He totally couldn’t though, since his eyes were so busy studying the big silver spoon prop resting above the entrance to the, err, Silver Spoon.

“Y’know, I’d be a lot more help to you lovebirds if either of you’d fill me in on why you broke up.” MJ leaned back in her deck chair, sipping her coffee. “At least give me a hint here.”

“There’s really nothing you can do, MJ. This isn’t one of those things that can be fixed with an apology and flowers. Me and Gwen are at kind of an… an impasse.” Okay, Peter couldn’t help himself – He risked a peek. At her face, he meant. No, wait, that made him just as flustered as any other part of her. Okay, okay, Peter would simply have to focus on a part of MJ that wasn’t sexy. Like her… um… uh… uhhh… uhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

“C’mon, Tiger, everyone knows how bad you and Gwen have it for each other.” Her nose. Yeah, her nose. “It practically radiates off you two any time you’re together. Even when you were arguing at school today, you guys seemed, like, three seconds away from an angry make out session.”

It was so small and smooth. It could’ve gone between the eyes of a Greek statue. Peter couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something distinctly feminine about it… Oh god, he was developing a nose fetish.

“I nose- err, I know. It’s not that me and Gwen don’t love each other anymore.” Peter wrenched his eyes back towards his own coffee. “It’s more like I have a- a lifestyle that’s… incompatible with Gwen’s.” If Peter was being honest with himself, the temptation to spill his guts to MJ was rising. He’d gotten so used to having people to confide in about his big secret, going back to the old way was a struggle.

“Incompatible how?” Another peek at Mary Jane’s face revealed a funny look.

“I mean, uh…” Deep breath. Time to play some verbal gymnastics. “It’s basically the same reason things didn’t work out with Liz. I’ve got responsibilities and- and my photography career, and it gets in the way of everything, so I’m never really there for Gwen, and I’m always putting myself in danger, and that freaks Gwen out even though I keep telling her I know what I’m doing, and she can’t handle it anymore. It was too much to ask of her in the first place. I love Gwen with all my heart, but...” The words were losing steam. “...I can’t give her the relationship she deserves. Not without quitting… the photography.”

What was the harm in one last peek? Peter’s eyes made the slow, careful journey back to Mary Jane’s perfectly-sculpted face… where they discovered her mouth hanging agape. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” MJ shut it back. “It’s just… that is, like, exactly the same reason behind my breakup. Guess when your boyfriend is- is Molten Man, it kinda gets in the way of the relationship.” After that, she went back to sipping her coffee.

Okay, this was officially the longest peek of Peter’s life. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized...”

“Ahhh, what I am doing, dropping the M-word like that?” MJ touched a pointer finger to her temple. “I thought I’d had all my memory of him, like, surgically carved out of my brain.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the breeze. “That’s how to deal with breakups? Just forget everything?”

“But, hey, don’t waste your energy worrying about little old me, okay, Tiger? I’ve been vaccinated for ‘emo.’” If MJ had heard him, she didn’t show it. “Besides, I’ve learned my lesson – The commitment game’s clearly rigged. You put all your chips on the table, and when the house inevitably wins, you lose everything, even your ‘just friends’ card.”

“Leaving you totally penniless?”

“Right.” MJ gave a content nod. “Look at that. Our minds are in synch today. We must be on the same wavelength or something.”

“Well, thanks for the advice, MJ. I actually feel way better now.”

“Glad I could-” It took a second for the other shoe to drop. “Wait, no, I was talking about me. That’d be friggin’ terrible advice for you and Gw-”

The next second, the earth was quaking a bit too hard for her to finish that.

“Huh-? What-?” Countless café-goers looked around in horror, griping of spilled coffee and dampened pants.

“What was that?” Mary Jane backed away before her own coffee could travel from the table to her designer boots.

Peter, meanwhile, had sprung from his seat to protect the sneakers he’d foraged from that thrift store. His eyes traveled to the skyline, then narrowed. “Shocker.”

“Um, yeah, can’t say I was expecting it-”

“Hey, MJ-” He turned back to her. “-sorry to cut your pep-talk short, but-”

“You’ve gotta take pictures?” MJ’s face lit up. “Well, don’t let me stop you, Tiger. Oh, but if you see anything super dangerous-”

“I’ll be caref-”

“-forward the pics to me. You are, like, a bottomless supply of cool wallpapers.”

“Oh. Y-Yeah, can do.” Peter stood in place a moment, blinking. It took him a moment to register this development. She really wasn’t…?

No time to dwell on it, though. Tons of Spider-Man stuff to go do! Just… tons and tons.

“Boy, you're a couple farmhands short of a ranch if you think you can-” Montana didn't have time to finish his Southernism before he had to duck another blast.

“Hold still!” the man yelled, hoisting his gauntlets high. “These puppies aren't like your dinky little compressed air shooters. Yours are prototypes, whereas one hit from these is enough to pop every last fleshy balloon in your body.”

Of course, the design flaw here was that the gauntlets were too bulky to aim properly, giving the Enforcers plenty of leeway to dodge. On the other hand, it didn't take precise aiming to topple a condemned building.

“I told you we shouldn't have come in here!” Fancy Dan's teeth started to chatter, but Ox's face held far more confidence.

“Move over. I got this.” He ripped off his extra-extra-extra large t-shirt, freeing the mechsuit underneath. With a metallic click, Ox's helmet flipped back over his face, and he crouched into a charging stance.

Boom. Before their assailant could fire another blast, the Enforcers were escaping through an Ox-shaped hole in the wall, leaving the mystery man to deal with the building's wreckage all by himself.

The Enforcers bolted down the streets, not even caring if civilians saw Fancy Dan changing into the Ricochet outfit beneath his own civvies. This being Manhattan, it only took them a second to hail down a cab – though Ox standing in the middle of the road might have sped the process up a bit.

“Drive.” Montana pushed his way inside, followed by Richochet and Ox. The moment the doors were shut, the cabbie obediently hit the gas.

“Who the heck is that guy?” Ricochet's chest heaved as the sidewalk sped by the window.

“Ain't got a clue.” As he spoke, Montana popped open his briefcase. “And frankly, I don't care. Whoever this punk us, you boys and me are gonna teach him some manners.” And within the case were a familiar mask and gauntlets.

Unfortunately, before the taxi could get far, the road beneath it was overturned by a sonic blast. The cabbie was forced to make a u-turn, narrowly dodging what would've undoubtedly been a deadly explosion.

“GET BACK HERE, SHOCKER!” The mystery man had, evidently, escaped the collapsing building unscathed. He ran after the cab, firing his gauntlets blindly. “SHOOOOOOOOOOOOCKEEEEEEEEEEEER! YOU CAN'T ESCAPE MEEEEEEE! I'LL CHASE YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTH!”

“Jesus, what's wrong with this guy?” Ricochet leaned over just to gape at the man through the cab's back window.

“My guess?” said Montana, now in full, banana yellow Shocker garb. “The other kids picked on 'im on the short bus.”

As soon as their attacker had vanished safely over the horizon, Shocker ordered the cabbie to hit the brakes, and the Enforcers hopped out.

“Good, now keep drivin',” said Shocker.

The cabbie didn't look nearly brave enough to ask for fare.

Once the taxi sped off, the Enforcers ducked into a nearby alleyway.

“Alright, boys, here's the deal,” Shocker said in an undertone. “That nut ain't expectin' us to leave the cab. Soon as he runs by, we jump 'im.” Ox and Ricochet nodded in synch.

“Great plan as always, chief,” said Ricochet. “Don't see how it could possibly go-”

Thwip. “Well, if it isn't my favorite rodeo clown!” The next instant, a strand of webbing on the back of his neck sent Ricochet's head into a brick wall. True to his name, Ricochet rebounded and smacked straight into Ox's stomach, toppling him over.

“Bug.” Shocker immediately fired his gauntlets skyward, but the “bug” did an impressive midair twirl, dodging perfectly and landing in the alleyway between Shocker and his cohorts.

“And here I thought you were gonna be hard to find,” said Spider-Man, puffing out his chest, “but nope, you're running around in full costume in broad daylight. Guess you really missed me.”

“Now's not the time for this, bug!” Shocker tried to flee the other way, but Spidey quickly sealed the far end with webbing.

“It's not? Well, gee, then let me come back when it's more convenient to you.” While Spider-Man was busy running his mouth, Ox regained his composure and crept up behind him... only for Spidey to duck his punch at the last second. “I'd hate to be inconsiderate.”

Shocker fired another blast of green light and compressed air, but all he managed to hit was the trash can behind Spidey.

“Hey, Shockey, y'know what I've been thinking?” Next, Spider-Man turned his attention on Ricochet. The two of them traded fisticuffs, which, thanks to Ricochet's mechsuit, ended up looking like a big blur to the naked eye. “You wear bright yellow and red, and your cronies here wear dark purple and gray. What is up with that?” Ricochet started reverberating between the alley walls, forcing Spidey to run up them to dodge like some demented game of Pong. “Would it kill you guys to color coordinate? I mean, if one of you has to look like a giant doof, it's only fair that the other two should-”

“Would you shut up and listen for one doggone second?” Shocker fired straight upward just for the sake of drowning out the noise. “There's some dangerous nutjob comin' after us, and if you keep makin' all this racket, he's gonna-”

“There you are, Shocker. I knew you couldn't hide forever.” Everyone's favorite madman rounded the corner.

Spider-Man finally halted the battle so he could stare at the newcomer from up on the alley wall. After several silent seconds, he looked back down at Shocker. “Man, you Enforcers really need stricter hiring standards.”

“He's not with us!” snapped Ox. “We don't even know the guy.”

“Really? Hmm, well then...” Spidey turned to the mystery man. “Hey, dude, what's your deal?”

“I want to topple Tombstone's empire!” said the man.

“Mm hmm, mm hmm, I'm with you so far.” Spidey nodded.

“And I'm gonna start by killing his lackeys here.”

“Aaaaaaand you lost me.” Spider-Man dropped down between the two parties. “Call me old fashioned, but I'm really not on board with murder.”

“Well, if you're not with me...” The man raised his gauntlets. Spidey didn't need spider-sense to know where this was headed. “...then you're against me.”

Boom. Spider-Man was glad he didn't have super-hearing, or else his eardrums would've burst for sure. He managed to tumble out of the way, but this guy's blasts were way bigger and thicker than Shocker's. There was probably an uncouth joke in there somewhere, but Spidey was too busy being trapped under a massive pile of debris to make it.

Every couple minutes, the whole block would vibrate, sending dogs barking and car alarms honking. Apparently, Spider-Man was having an epic showdown with the Shocker not too terribly far from here. In fact, it was close enough that a cop had yelled at Flash for getting too near the danger zone. But Flash had managed to slip by him.

This couldn’t wait.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

Flash only needed to knock on the apartment door another fifty more times or so before it was finally answered by a cute Vietnamese girl.

“Oh. It’s you.” Sha Shan only blushed a teeny bit before tugging her bathrobe tighter over her undershirt.

Flash didn’t give her the chance to say even one more word before blurting out, “I read Death of a Salesman!” The remark earned him a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay, fine, I watched the movie version, but still, it was really good.” Flash forced himself to take a breath. “I didn’t give it a fair, uh, evaluation at first, but when I did, I got really into it.” He slouched his shoulders, admitting, “It, I don’t know, made me feel things.” Then, when Sha Shan merely looked confused, he added, “I want to be in the play now, Sha Shan. I mean it.”

Sha Shan still wasn’t saying anything, which naturally made Flash want to talk even faster:

“See, that’s the thing about me. I can be really stupid about things, but when I put actual effort into getting to knowing something – someone – there’s so much more there to appreciate.” He took an only- somewhat-shaky step towards her. “I… love… Death of a Salesman.”

The statement hung in the air.

“You getting the metaphor-?”

“Yes, I got it, thanks.” Well, Sha Shan was laughing now. Possibly at instead of with Flash, but still, progress.

“Ugh...” Why was it so dark all of a sudden? Spider-Man impulsively pushed upwards. He managed to move the largest chunks of rubble off his back, letting just enough light flood in for him to get a good look at his surroundings. With a pang, he realized he was pushing against a row of bricks that'd once been the wall of a building. A building full of innocent people.

“No!” Spider-Man struggled with all his might, but even with the proportionate strength of a spider, lifting a chunk of building wasn't an easy task. Spidey glanced around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness. He saw Ox, Ricochet, and a couple pedestrians all unconscious at his feet. At least, he hoped they were unconscious.

“Are you really gonna go through all this effort just cuz someone stole your toys, boy?” Wait, Spider-Man heard a voice. Unless the blast had knocked him all the way to Texas, that had to be Shocker.

“I didn't just have my 'toys' stolen,” said a whinier, higher-pitched voice that could only belong to the mysterious attacker. “Tombstone ruined my life! TriCorp was going to make me a billionaire until you robbed their truck. Now I have nothing.” The ground shook, sending even more rubble down on Spider-Man's shoulders. Great.

“So yer in the business o’ blamin' other people fer yer problems?” There was a smaller shockwave, presumably courtesy of Shocker. “Well, I got news fer ya, boy. Way I reckon', if all yer self-worth was tied up in some little doohickey you built, then you deserved to have it stolen.”

“I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna kill you!” Even more shockwaves. If Spider-Man didn't get out of here soon, all those villains who'd said he'd be squished like a bug would be saying told-ya-so.

“Now look what ya done! I ain’t one to go hurtin' innocent bystanders. Too messy.”

Bystanders? No. Spidey redoubled his efforts to escape the rubble. C'mon, c'mon, this wasn't even as heavy as the one back at the Master Planner's lair. He could do this... He could do this... Sure, Spider-Man had been winded, but there had to be a way to bounce back from-

Wait a minute.

Shocker and his assailant stood on opposite ends of the street, staring each other down. The collapsed wall of a nearby building sent dust clouds into the air. It was like a western, only instead of guns, they had compressed air-shooters. But other than that, totally identical.

“I'm gonna pry that suit off your corpse!” The bulging eyes behind the attacker's visor didn't make him look any saner. “I built this tech. I should be the Shocker. Me. All this time, you've been nothing but an imposter.”

Behind his own, green visor, Montana cocked his eyebrows. “I seen turkeys in November with more sense than you.”

“Talk all you want, but one more blast from my gloves, and you're dead.” The man's gauntlet's started to vibrate, preparing to fire... but before they had a chance, something exploded from the rubble.

There was a blur so fast, it could hardly be seen by the naked eye, and the next thing anyone knew, all the machinery on the man's chest had been smashed. His gauntlets made a pathetic little farting noise before growing still.

“What the-?” Before he could even react, the man was knocked onto his back by a swift kick from the blur. Finally, with him defeated, the blur grew still enough to be seen properly.

“Dan?” Shocker gawked at the purple-and-gray man standing before him. “I ain't never seen you go that fast-”

“Guess again!” Thwip. Suddenly, Shocker was glued to the floor by a burst of webbing from the metal cylinders around Ricochet's wrists. “Turns out this suit is one-size-fits-all. Pretty cool, right?” Spidey motioned back to the pile of rubble, where the real Fancy Dan was lying unconscious in his boxer shorts.

“Aww, shucks, I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you.” Shocker tried to fire his own gauntlets, but apparently the kinetic energy from the Ricochet suit on top of Spidey's own abundant energy meant he could give the Road Runner a run for his money. He smashed the gloves before Shocker even knew what hit him.

“This suit is awesome!” Spider-Man fist-pumped. “I'm keeping it forever!”

“What do you mean, 'police evidence?'”

Sergeant DeWolff gave Spider-Man a look. “You really want to add 'tampering with a crime scene' to your list of felonies?”

“Alright, alright. If it'll help put Tinkerer behind bars someday...” Spidey reluctantly began undressing (Don't worry, he'd kept his spandex on underneath it).

Behind DeWolff, the Enforcers and, uh, Lame Shocker Knockoff Man were being led in handcuffs into a police van. And all the while, the Shocker knockoff was screaming at the top of his lungs: “I'll kill Tombstone! I'll kill him and everyone who works for him if it's the last thing I do! I'm the REAL Shocker! I'll teach the world to respect the name Herman Schultz! I'll...” Finally, the van doors mercifully shut.

And with that, Spider-Man swung off before the police had time to decide if he was a threat or a menace. Man, what a bummer... Ah, well, it probably would've turned out to be another evil alien costume, anyways.

Spider-Man was just glad the ambulances had gotten there fast and no one was seriously hurt. Heck, Damage Control had already arrived to fix the wall before Spidey had even left. Still, he had to admit, being trapped under that rubble, able only to watch as the Shockers duked it out, praying no innocent people had been hurt... It'd been scary.

Was that what Gwen felt like every time Peter put on the tights? Helplessly watching from afar, praying no one got killed this time? Peter guessed, in light of that, he really couldn’t blame her… No, Peter couldn’t blame anyone for his problems but himself. He’d chosen to be Spider-Man, and he’d chosen to date Gwen. And now he had to deal with the consequences.

Spider-Man sighed as he released his web, hurtling through the air until he fired another at the nearest building. At least now the most dangerous Vault escapees were back behind bars. Maybe he could take Captain Stacy’s advice after all? Hang up the tights for a while? With all the major supervillains put away, Peter didn't really have anything else to worry about, right? Right?

A spotlight blared over the darkened stage, illuminating a beefy blonde boy.

“It's a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer... To suffer fifty weeks a year for the sake of a two-week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. And still-” Flash shut his eyes. “-that's how you build a future.”

There was only one man in the audience, but he made enough applause for a whole crowd. “That was excellent, Mr. Thompson, excellent!” St. Devereaux beamed at him. “I have to say, this role suits you perfectly.”

Flash gave a wry smile. “Not as much as my last role.”

The wry smile was shared with the one woman in the audience. The one who would be leaving practice with Flash today, the two of them walking hand-in-hand.

Chapter Text

Any time Peter even thought about leaving his bed covers, his brain shrieked in protest. Geez, summer had just started and already he was wasting it. This was certainly a far cry from last summer, back when the thrill of being Spider-Man hadn’t yet worn off and the utter, utter horribleness of being Spider-Man hadn’t yet set in.

At least when Peter slept till noon, he wasn’t having to put up with super awkward interning shifts with his ex-girlfriend or ultra delta omega awkward criminology classes with his ex-girlfriend’s dad. Still, though, summer vacation without the responsibilities of Spider-Manning ought to have been a welcome breather for Peter. By all right, he should’ve been going to the beach with his girlfriend, making out with his girlfriend, playing couch co-op with his girlfriend, making out with his girlfriend, frolicking through Central Park with his girlfriend, making out with his girlfriend, and, oh yeah, making out with his girlfriend.

“Nnngh...” With a concentrated effort, Peter managed to roll over on the mattress. It took him a second to realize there was something nestled in his arms – a stinky old red-and-blue spandex suit. Oh, that was right, Peter had cuddled up with it last night. His arms had felt awfully empty otherwise.

...Peter was reaching peak forever alone-ness here.

He ought to call her. Yeah. Maybe if she just heard his voice, Gwen would remember how much she loved Peter and she’d snap out of this. His hand was halfway to the phone in his bedside charger when Peter caught himself. No, Gwen had every reason to feel how she did. The fear and the danger, it- it was overwhelming. The only way to make things kosher between them would be if Peter swore off being Spider-Man for good.

His eyes traveled to the picture of Uncle Ben on the nightstand. Ben had this self-satisfied little smile on his winkled lips. Peter could practically hear the words, Ha ha, nice try, kiddo. You’re stuck doing this for-EVER.

His eyes returned to the Osberry. Peter took a breath, fumbled around until the charger cord popped out, and then flopped back onto his bed with phone in hand. He rested his head on his pillow as he thumbed through the contacts list. Eddie? Comatose. Harry? In Europe. Liz? Oh, that bridge had been burned. Miss Brant? Peter had humiliated himself in front of her enough for one lifetime, thanks. The Jolly One? That’d be an interesting conversation. It’d alleviate Peter’s boredom, at least.

His thumb reached the latest contact on the list. He stared at it a minute. Then Peter groaned, sat up under the covers, and turned to face that lamp with the bright red shade Aunt May had found at the thrift store. “Hey, MJ. It’s me. Tiger. Y’know, Mary Jane, I’ve had a lotta time to think this last month, and I realized… that anti-commitment, no-strings-attached, free spirit creed of yours? I finally get it. It’s way better than- than letting yourself get all worked up over relationship drama. Sure, that’s totally shallow, but… maybe that’s what I need right now?” He paused for a reply.

The lampshade said nothing. It couldn’t talk. It was a lampshade.

“So whattaya say, Red? Wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date? We wouldn’t be going steady or anything equally primitive, right? We’d just be having a little fun. Not like we’d be making out. I mean, unless you really wanted to, in which case, I’d- I’d think about it. But we’d just be making out as friends.”

“You’re #$*%ing pathetic,” said the lampshade.

Slowly, Peter moved his gaze back to the phone screen. Y’know, the crazy thing about modern technology was that you didn’t have to enter a complex sequence of digits just to call someone anymore. All it took was… one quick tap of the thumb…

Don’t do it. Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it don’ t- Y ou did it. I hate you.

Somehow, Mary Jane had ended up huddled in the corner of her bedroom, tapping a faded spot of the wallpaper with her perfectly-shaped nail. A decade of this ritual had left the spot quite eroded. In fact, it’d formed a peculiar pattern… Great, her life was becoming a Charlotte Perkins Gilman story.

It wasn’t MJ’s fault she was losing it, though. Her bedroom just happened to be the least, err, scream-ey part of her house – so long as she kept her headphones at a reasonably high volume to account for the thin walls. It was a feasible short-term solution, but only when MJ had school to escape to for half the day. Yeah, summer wasn’t her favorite time of year.

Luckily, her phone went off to save MJ from her pending insanity. “Mary Jane Watson speaking. Hold the applause.”

“Hey, MJ.”

She was nearly the one applauding when she realized who it was. “Tiger! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, y’know, we’re three days into summer break and I’m bored out of my skull.”

“Really?” MJ’s eyes flitted to the wallpaper. “Sounds rough.”

“So, well, I’ve been doing a lotta thinking this past month, and I realized-”

“Oop, hold that thought, Tiger. Incoming call.”

“Oh, th-that’s oka-”

Peter’s smarmy, smooth, yet slightly stammering voice was replaced by a considerably higher, more stammer-filled one. “H-Hi, Mary Jane.”

“Girlfriend! What’s up?”

“Oh, y’know, summer break’s hardly started and I’m already wasting it lounging around the house,” said Gwen. “I was thinking we could do something together for the Fourth of July this Friday. And maybe you could introduce me to your friend like you said?”

“Now that you mention it, there is a party I’m planning on crashing, but I’m not really sure if it’s your kind of-”

“I can party.” Gwen’s voice went tighter. “What, you think I don’t know how to have fun just because I’m the police captain’s daughter?”

“You sure, girlfriend? We are talking about, like, a party party-” MJ was cut off by her phone’s incoming call alert. Seriously? Another one? “One sec, Gwen… Hello?”

“H-H-Hey, MJ.” This next voice was even more stammer-filled than the last one.

“Hobie! How’s life treating you?”

“Ah, y-y’know, summer break’s-”

“Summer break’s just started and you’re already bored?”

“Yeah, exactly! So, um, I was thinking about it a lot, and- and I was wondering if you could come over to my garage in Springfield Gardens? I’ve got something really cool I’ve been wanting to show you.” There was a pause, then a sharp inhale from the phone’s other end. “My, err, dad won’t be home, though. I hope you don’t mind. We’ll just be in the garage...”

“Mind?” MJ imbued the word with all the ingenuousness it could carry. “Why would I m-?” Incoming call. “Oh, for the love of… Hello?”

“H-H-H-Hi, Mary J-Jane.” This latest voice was the most stammer-filled yet. “Do you want to go out with me?” There was a silence, which the voice filled with heavy breathing.

“Who is this?”

“Seymour. Seymour O’Reilly. From gym class-”

“How did you get this number?”

“Wait, don’t hang up, I love y-!” Boop.

Mary Jane generally avoided the garage at her own house – for the same reason she avoided every other part of it that wasn’t her bedroom, the straightest possible path leading from the front door to her bedroom, and also the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom when absolutely necessary – so she guessed she’d never given the general concept of garages much thought before. She’d especially never thought that any garage could be frickin’ cool. Yet here she was in the Brown family’s, gawking at the display before her. How was a car even supposed to fit in here when there were so many gadgets and doohickeys lining the place? She and Hobie had to walk on tiptoe just to reach his workbench in the center.

That little phone conference earlier had ended with both Peter and Gwen vying for MJ’s attention. So, of course, when forced to choose between the two of them, MJ had gone for Hobie.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?” he said for the millionth time that afternoon.

“Don’t you worry,” said MJ. “I’ve got something of a knack for keeping secrets.”

“Okay. Here goes...” Hobie took a breath, then yanked a purple cloth off the workbench to reveal… “Ta da!” ...some kinda, like, battle suit. The main body was green, but the gloves and boots were purple, as was the skintight mask resting over the shoulders. Top that with white eye-holes surrounded with black markings, not to mention some real sharp-looking claws on the gloves’ fingers, and the suit looked like a force to be reckoned with. At least, it would if someone was actually wearing it, as opposed to it just flopping over on the workbench, hollow.

“Whoa, cool.” MJ let out a whistle. “What is this? A cosplay?” She brought a hand towards it.

“Careful!” But Hobie blocked it with his arm. “Those are real blades in the claws.”

“Uh… dare I ask what you need real blades for?”

At this, Hobie shrank. “W-Well, they’re supposed to help you scale walls so you can… wash windows easier.”

A laugh escaped MJ’s mouth. “You went through all this trouble just to look like a badass at your day job?”

“It’s my dad’s job, and I was trying to make it safer for him!” Hobie’s voice cracked a bit. “I was gonna surprise him with this. At least, I was at first. But then I decided to add on a cool mask, and I guess I got carried away from there. I mean, I put everything and the kitchen sink in this costume – spring-loaded boots, spray-guns in the wrists… They’re supposed to spray cleaning fluid, but they can also fire smoke pellets so you can do the whole, like, ninja disappearing thing-” The speed of Hobie’s words had increased for a moment, but then he caught himself. His shoulders sagged. “I’ve been working on this for months. It’s my pride and joy. Like, this weird little passion project.”

MJ gave him a look. “And I’m the only other person who knows about it?”

“Who was I supposed to tell?” Hobie huffed. “The rest of the football team? They’d think I was the biggest dork in school. I mean…” He bowed his head. “...this does all sound incredibly frickin’ autistic now that I say it out loud.”

A moment passed. Then a hand wrapped itself around Hobie’s. “Yeah, well, who cares what those guys think? They don’t have an awesome super suit.”

Hobie managed a laugh. “You… You really don’t think it’s stupid?”

“You kidding?” MJ’s face drew nearer. “This is the least boring thing that’s happened all month. And here I’d thought you were just making a booty call.”

At this, Hobie almost squeaked. “You thought-?” The realization was sinking in. “And you came here anyways?”

Oh, wow. Never before had MJ boxed herself in so perfectly. “Yeah… guess I did.” Really only one response she could give to that.

And then, well, you can guess what happened next. Hobie wasn’t half bad for a beginner. Plenty of tongue.

Though he’d have to learn to hold his breath for way longer, judging by how fast he broke things off. “Wow.” Now he was grinning like a loon. The exchange had left MJ’s back pressed against the workbench. “That was… MJ, you’re amazing.” And he was the one doing the pressing.

“Well, I don’t like to brag…” Mary Jane made a show of inspecting her nails. “So, err, whatever happened to Mindy?”

“Nothing ever happened with her. We’ve barely even spoken since spring break.”

“Cool.”

Hobie laughed. Well, it was more of a manic giggle. “This is officially the greatest day of my life. It’s like I’m an actual superhero.” He leaned in again. “I’m just like Spider-Man!”

But MJ leaned back. “Um, y-yeah, guess there is kind of a resemblance in the, uh, in the mask. But, I mean, really, I’d say you’re more like a peasant Black Panther. Totally… Totally different hero. And besides…” Her hand fumbled for the purple cloth lying half-off the table. “…Spider-Man doesn’t wear a cape, now does he?”

“A cape?” Hobie blinked. “Oh, no, that was just to cover everything. A cape would be kind of...”

“Awesome?”

“Impractical.”

“C’mooooon.” As she spoke, MJ wrapped the cloth around Hobie’s shoulders. “You’d look great in it.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good-” It was at that point that Hobie made the mistake of gazing into MJ’s eyes. “But on the other hand… I could totally rock a cape.”

“Now we’re talking.” MJ began rubbing her hand over Hobie’s forearm. Just one of those subtle little hints she loved to give. “So what’s this suit thingy for, anyhow?”

“For?” Hint received loud and clear. “It’s not really ‘for’ anything. It’s just, like, an art project. I mean, I doubt they’d let my dad actually wear it to work at this point, and- and I ended up fitting it to me, anyways.”

“You don’t want to fight crime or something?”

“You kidding? You seen the thanks the Bugle gives Spider-Man for all his altruism?” For a moment, Hobie was actually distracted from the approaching lips.

“Sure, but you’re not just gonna let your suit collect dust down here, are you?”

“Well, if you have any uses for it, I’m all ears.”

MJ actually did have an idea, but she’d have to tell him in a minute. When her mouth was unobstructed.

“Whooooooooo-!”

A pair of purple, spring-loaded boots touched down on a rooftop in the heart of Manhattan, followed by a pair of regular, black, designer boots. Their whoops of delight were followed by the whir of a grappling hook retracting back into Hobie’s wrist. His brand new cape was wrapped around Mary Jane even tighter than Hobie’s big, beefy arms. It was almost enough to make MJ self-conscious, seeing as all she had to protect herself from the night air was a plain pink t-shirt and short shorts. She said “almost” because Mary Jane Watson wasn’t actually capable of feeling self-conscious.

“Oh my god, I honestly didn’t think I’d get my pulse up all summer,” she said, grinning. “We’re doing this every day for the rest of our lives, okay?”

“Heh. Yeah.” Hobie puffed out his chest. His face was impossible to read behind that mouthless mask, but MJ could hazard a guess. “Rest of our lives.”

MJ’s eyes flitted to his wrist. “So that’s really the same pulley mechanism thing Glory used to drop from the ceiling in Midsummer Night’s?”

Hobie nodded. “I kinda repurposed it. I was just studying it at first, and I was gonna give it back, but-”

“Eh, not like the drama club was getting much use out of it, anyways.”

“I guess not.” Hobie’s own eyes traveled to the skyline above the vanishing sun. “Man, the city’s gorgeous from up here. This must be what it feels like to be S-”

“-to be Daredevil?” offered Mary Jane. “Y’know, with those weird billy club cables he swings on? I’m sure he appreciates a nice view every now and then.”

“Yeah,” said Hobie. “Daredevil.”

“And speaking of Midsummer Night’s, I notice you kept the color scheme from your Puck costume.” MJ poked a finger to the center of Hobie’s green chest piece. It was made of Kevlar or something, by the looks of it. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“Surprised the cable can hold that much weight, though…”

“Course it can. Watch this.” Hobie fired the grappling hook into the arm of a crane overhead, then pulled himself up, flipping over so he was hanging upside down in midair, knees bent like a frog’s.

“Wow. Nice grip for a guy with no super strength.” As she spoke, MJ brought a hand to his mask, pulling it back over his jaw. “Must be that football physique.” For a moment, she was worried the physical contact would make him let go, but Hobie managed to keep up that grip, even once MJ started upside-down-kissing him.

Well, wasn’t this picturesque? Mary Jane had finally gotten everything she’d ever wanted. An escape from boredom, a cute guy to fool around with… It was all perfect. Which was why Mary Jane felt so happy right now. Yep. Happy.

“Hey!” But again, the making out didn’t last as long as Mary Jane would’ve liked – this time because of the security guard who’d just entered the rooftop from the stairway door. “What the-?” The moment he spotted the crazy kids, the guy’s hand went for the walkie-talkie on his belt. “We’ve got a prowler up here! And a cute redhead.”

“Crap! Run-!”

The next instant, Hobie had scooped MJ up in his arms again so they could swing to safety. After several gut-wrenching minutes, the two of them dropped down into an alleyway, panting.

“That- That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” said Mary Jane, hands on her knees, “juvie is not a fun place to visit.” She paused. “Or so I’ve heard.”

They remained in the alley a second. Okay, MJ hadn’t wanted her pulse to get quite this high over the summer.

“I think that was enough, uh, prowling for one night,” said Hobie, pulling his mask back over his chin. “Let’s get you home.”

“Aww, but-”

“Hey, we’ve got the whole summer ahead of us to screw around. There’s no rush.”

“Yeah… okay.”

“Come on, MJ.” Hobie nearly put a hand on her shoulder, but he darted his claws away in the nick of time. “I’ll even swing you home in costume.”

Well, that was one way to make the return trip less disheartening.

The imaginary talking lampshade had been right. Even after waiting all that time on hold, Peter hadn’t had the guts to ask MJ out. At least, he hadn’t had the guts to specify he wanted to go on a date with her and not a platonic friend buddy pal friendship party adventure.

Peter straightened his posture as he neared the house, draped in shadow by the glow of the streetlamps. He’d never been here before, but this was the place, judging from the numbers on the mail box. It’d only been a short walk from Forest Hills. No wonder MJ was always popping back and forth between here and her aunt’s.

Even if Peter had worked up the nerve, it turned out MJ had already made plans to spend the day with some other guy. How many guys was she in contact with, exactly? And how many had made the groundbreaking observation that Mary Jane was super hot? If Peter did ask MJ out, would that really be anything special to her? Would it be anything special to him? Did a date even need to be special?

Peter had no clue – He’d never been on a non-special date before. Heck, half the reason he’d hooked up with Liz was because she’d burned bridges with Flash to be with him, and that was a big deal to Peter because- because he’d thought he was just some stupid nerd, and then out of the blue, a cheerleader had been on his doorstep making out with him. That was about as “special” as it got.

And then there was Gwen. Ugh, just thinking that name made Peter’s chest ache. Even after Thanksgiving, Peter hadn’t guessed how hard Gwen had fallen for him. She’d really loved Peter. And… she still did. Peter wondered if she was the least bit tempted to go fool around with a random hot guy? He pictured Gwen kissing, like, Rand or someone. Y’know, making out “as friends.”

…Peter had the sudden urge to teach Rand the definition of “defenestration.”

Well, it was decided, then. Peter would simply turn back around, and then he’d spend the rest of his life miserable and alone because even if he did find another girl with genuine feelings for him, she’d never hold a candle to Gwen Stacy, so Peter might as well get used to being sing-

Oh, wait, he was already on MJ’s doorstep. Too late now. Maybe… Maybe Peter didn’t actually have to ask MJ on a date, specifically. Mary Jane had taken it upon herself to be Peter’s and Gwen’s relationship coach, right? Peter could simply say he needed to talk to her again about all that. Or maybe – and this was the craziest idea of all – maybe Peter could actually be honest with Mary Jane about his conflicted feelings?

After all, it wasn’t like MJ had never shown up on Peter’s doorstep unannounced before. Well, informing Peter of Aunt May’s heart attack wasn’t quite as vapid a reason, but still. Come to think of it, if Peter knocked right now, he wondered if MJ would have on those cute bunny slippers?

His finger hovered over the doorbell.

Peter stayed that way a minute… until he was snapped from his spell by the sound of muffled screams. Not like, “save me, Spider-Man” screams, but like, “no YOU left the lid up” screams. Huh. Peter hadn’t realized MJ’s folks were so, err, noisy.

But then he heard an even louder sound – a thump. For a sec, Peter wondered what exactly was going on in that house. But then he realized where that thump was actually coming from. Either MJ’s parents were having their argument on the roof, or…

Peter peeked around the corner. And the sight above made his heart stop. A shadowed figure was hanging off the wall beside an upstairs window, clinging to the brick with the set of talons on its hands. It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but those claws looked distinctly… feline.

Scarcely a second later, a fully-costumed Spider-Man pounced onto the wall across from the window. No, he hadn’t been seeing things – There was indeed a humanoid figure up here.

“Hey, you! Wanna buy some girl scout cookies?” At the sound of Spidey’s voice, the figure sprang back, startled, and then sprinted up onto the roof. “Wait, come back! I’ve got thin mint!”

What was Black Cat doing at Mary Jane’s house? Oh lord, what if Black Cat was Mary Jane? Spider-Man had no clue how the logistics of that would work, but the idea did hold a… certain appeal.

But Spidey barely had time to rationalize before he was closing in on the figure. Right as his heart was starting to pound, he got close enough to realize… this wasn’t Black Cat. Or Mary Jane, for that matter. The intruder was a bit too, um, lacking.

Spider-Man landed directly in front of the mysterious figure, blocking his path. The intruder drew back, startled. He seemed to be covered from head to toe in a pale green-and-purple uniform. Hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like something a bit more durable than Spidey’s spandex. The dude’s mask was molded into a scowling face with pure, white eyes surrounded by black markings, and his gloves ended in pointy-looking claws. He kinda resembled Black Panther, except this guy had a flowing violet cape wrapped around his shoulders. So he was Batman. Black Panther with a cape would just be Batman.

“A cape, huh?” Spidey crouched into a fighting stance. “Gotta say, I admire the boldness.” He ducked a swipe of the stranger’s claws, his mouth running all the while. “I almost put a cape on my costume, too-” He swung his fist. “-but then I realized it’d look stupid.”

To Spider-Man’s surprise, the punch actually landed, sending the crook reeling backwards. Huh. For a supervillain, this guy sure moved slow. “What, you need me to go easy on you?”

And now Not-Batman was wordlessly running away. Sheesh, tough rooftop. Guess this guy was the strong, silent type.

“Okay, I realize the last time I attacked a guy just for looking like a supervillain, I ended up making things worse-” Spidey sprang after him as the guy bounded to the next rooftop over. Queens was, after all, better suited to rooftop-hopping than building-swinging. “-but something tells me you didn’t get that battle suit from a freak lab accident. No, wait, lemme guess, the zipper got stuck and now you have no choice but to wear it while you, um, creep around the houses of attractive high school girls?” Yeah, Spider-Man was having a hard time concocting an alibi that made this dude look anything approaching sympathetic. “But, hey, maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe you’re actually a fellow superhero? In which case, guess you missed the memo, we generally avoid green and purple-”

Before Spidey could land another blow, the crook held out his arm. There was some sort of cylinder wrapped around it, not at all unlike Spider-Man’s web-shooters, except instead of webs, it shot out a cloud of gas.

“Look, you’re obviously new, so I guess you don’t know this-” Spidey ducked the oncoming plume. His spider-sense wasn’t tingling, so it was safe to say this stuff wasn’t bug spray. “-but it’s customary to trade witty banter with me.”

He charged into the gas, only to discover the dude was long gone. Sheesh, maybe the guy really was Batman, escaped from the pages of silly comic books and into the real world.

Peter was still reluctant to discount the possibility that the cape-wearing weirdo was a good guy. Maybe he was an impoverished loser who’d gotten suckered into wearing that suit by some evil mastermind, and now if he tried to take it off, it’d explode? Yeah, that sounded contrived enough to be true.

Nevertheless, Peter couldn’t help but worry that the dude might return to the scene of the crime. That was why Peter rolled down his sleeves to make sure every inch of red spandex was hidden, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

The muffled screams from within had a sudden exponential increase.

After a few moments of this, Peter caught a voice from the other side of the door’s peephole: “Oh, don’t get up. This isn’t one of your-” The next snatch of conversation was indecipherable. “-just a sixteen-year-old boy from my school. No one you’d be interested in, Phil. Or is that too much of an assumpt-?” More indecipherable bits. “Yeah, #*$% you, too.” Then the door swung open.

Turned out Mary Jane wasn’t wearing her bunny slippers. In fact, she wasn’t wearing much more than a pink t-shirt and a black bathrobe. “Tiger! Always good to see you.” Instantly, MJ’s nails were in Peter’s arm, and he found himself led down the doorstep. “It feels great out here. Let’s talk outside.” She kicked the front door shut behind them.

“Um, yeah, sure.” Peter’s arm wasn’t freed until they were a good five feet from the doorstep. They were closer to the road than the house. “Sorry to bother you. I was just, y’know, walking through the neighborhood, and I thought I saw, like, these weird guys jumping around on your roof. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, you’re no bother. That’s sweet of you, Tiger.” The breeze fluttered MJ’s bathrobe open, prompting her to fold her arms over her chest. “Don’t worry. Phil- my dad, he- he already called the police. The cops are on it.”

“That’s good,” said Peter.

A moment passed, during which time the breeze turned its attention to Peter. He had to pin his blue t-shirt down with his hands, lest he flash his spider-logo in MJ’s face.

“I feel horrible,” MJ suddenly said. “I totally blew you off on the phone this morning. I mean, I had a thing with Hobie, and, well… Anyways, you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

“Hang out?” Peter swallowed. “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah,” said MJ. “You know me. It wouldn’t be, like, a date date, but…”

“...just a date?”

Mary Jane’s eyes traveled to the grass. “Guess so.”

Peter’s own eyes traveled back to the front door. He took in a breath of frigid night air. “Sorry, my boss called earlier, and I’m actually gonna be, like, swamped with work for the foreseeable future. Maybe some other time?”

At this, something about MJ’s posture seemed to loosen. “Oh, that’s okay, Tiger. Gotta respect a career man.” Her eyes flitted to the front door, too. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got places to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Yeah.” Now that the breeze had died down, Peter risked bringing his hands to his pockets. The two of them stood in place a bit, shivering. “Goodnight, Red.”

“Goodnight, Tiger.” Just before turning around, Mary Jane seemed to catch herself and blurted out, “Oh, but for future reference, if you’re dying to hear from little old me again, call me first, and if I don’t answer, try my aunt’s house or- or leave a message or whatever. No need to walk all the way out here-”

“Oh, I didn’t- I- I was just in the neighborhood.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Not another word was spoken as Mary Jane scurried across the front lawn and back into her house.

Peter’s eyes stayed trapped on her back until it vanished behind the front door. Even once he was alone, Peter stood in place a minute.

Man, these bed covers were toasty. Clearly, leaving them had been a mistake.

Chapter Text

The first thing to hit Gwen was the music. She was actually kind of impressed – She hadn’t known sound waves could rattle your teeth. It was erupting from a set of massive speakers thoughtfully planted by the apartment’s front entrance:

“Now I'm lying on the table,

With everything you said.

It will all catch up eventually.

Well, it caught up, and honestly-”

The second thing to hit Gwen was the sight of the other girls. She hadn’t expected there to be so many. The ratio of girls to their clothing, though, was a different story. And Gwen couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the masters of subtlety checking those girls out (i.e. the swarms of teenage boys in even more disproportionately high numbers). But then, the sight of those other teen girls at least made Gwen feel less horrible about what she was wearing.

“The weight of my decisions,

Was impossible to hold,

But they were never-

They were never-

They were never yours.”

It was taking a conscious effort to keep from folding her arms over her chest. That’d defeat the whole purpose of letting this top suffocate Gwen in the first place – if you could even call it a top, it was so tiny.

“Well, I know you know… everything.

I know you didn't mean it.

I know you didn't mean it…”

“I can’t believe you made me wear this.” Gwen’s eyes flitted to Mary Jane, who’d managed to wear even less than Gwen while looking far classier, a fact which made Gwen’s brain hurt.

“Funny, I don’t remember putting a gun to your head in the changing room.” That seemed to settle the matter, and so MJ grabbed Gwen’s wrist and led her to the heart of the party.

“Whose apartment is this?” Gwen wondered aloud. She received no answer – Her voice had all but vanished behind the boom of the speakers. Everyone was supposed to head out to the balcony in a minute to watch the fireworks over the East River, but between the noise and all the glowsticks people were waving around, Gwen doubted anyone would actually notice once the show started.

Even once Gwen’s wrist was free, she trailed behind MJ, praying she didn’t look too much like a duckling following its mother. Every so often, a guy would lay eyes on Gwen, which only prompted her to huddle ever closer to her redheaded protector, which in turn prompted even more eyes to fall on the both of them. Stupid cleavage window on MJ’s stupid black top…

Gwen wished she’d worn her glasses so she’d have something to fidget with. The lack of them made her keep wanting to touch her face, but the last thing Gwen needed to do right now was ruin her hair and makeup. Mary Jane had outdone herself with this latest makeover. Gwen was about as pretty as she was capable of being, which she was fairly certain was the only thing keeping her from being laughed out of the party.

She and MJ passed a group of guys leaned against the living room wall, drinking who-knows-what out of plastic cups. This time, Gwen huddled close enough to catch MJ’s notice.

“Hey, loosen up, girlfriend.” Mary Jane rolled her shoulders, as if to illustrate the proper amount of looseness. “You’re the one who wanted to come here with me.”

“Yeah… Guess I was.” Gwen couldn’t help but gape at MJ some more. Apparently, the living rooms of total strangers were her element. MJ was only one of a massive number of bodies occupying the apartment, yet with all the stolen glances she was earning from partygoers, you’d think she was omnipresent.

“Come on, a little fun will do you good.” Mary Jane turned back to meet Gwen’s eyes. There was something about her face… Well, MJ’s face had always struck Gwen as perfectly-formed, but now it seemed even more so. It wasn’t any physical change, like the fact that MJ’s hair had grown out since the Fall Formal and now fell past her shoulders. No, it was a- a kind of radiance, if that made any sense. Maybe it was just the way Mary Jane was looking at Gwen, like she was well aware Gwen was using her as a walking comfort blanket, and she didn’t mind in the least. It made Gwen feel more relaxed. But also more nervous.

“Oh, there’s Hobie.” MJ hurried off to the apartment’s kitchen area, and Gwen, of course, hurried after her. “You’ll like him, I promise. Me and him are-” For the first time that night, the intensity of Mary Jane’s swagger fell below a hundred percent. “-are an item now, I think.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Hobie! You look great!” Mary Jane didn’t have time to reply to Gwen because she was too busy charging towards the guy who may or may not have been her boyfriend.

“Not compared to you.” Well, Hobie hugged MJ pretty tight the moment she drew near, so Gwen would have to throw that in the evidence pile. Gwen was pretty sure she’d seen Hobie Brown before, but only out of her peripheral vision – or else covered from head to toe in green makeup. His hair was styled in evenly-spaced corn rows running from neck to forehead, and his biceps poked out the short sleeves of his white t-shirt. Eh, he wasn’t the kind of guy Gwen would go for, but then, few guys were. “And who’s your friend there?”

MJ grinned. “Would you believe she’s Gwen Stacy?”

“Gwen Stacy?” Hobie’s wasn’t the only head that turned. “The Gwen Stacy from our school?”

Gwen managed to mumble something resembling the word “yes.”

“She’s my masterpiece, is what she is.” Yeesh, MJ needed to warn her before slinging an arm over Gwen’s shoulder like this. Gwen nearly had a heart attack. “I’m so proud of her, I might cry.”

Despite her best efforts, Gwen ended up laughing. “Just don’t expect me to start singing ‘You’re the One That I Want.’”

“Ooh, there’s the punch bowl.” MJ pointed it out to the other two. “Is anyone thirsty?” She gave Gwen a look. “Besides every boy you and me walk past, I mean.”

After that, Mary Jane glided off towards the bowl, leaving Gwen and Hobie to bask in her aftershock. Wow. Look at the way Hobie was staring at Gwen. Look at the way everyone was staring at Gwen. Was she really drawing as many eyes as Mary Jane friggin’ Watson? Maybe all those times MJ had said Gwen was every bit as gorgeous as her, she hadn’t just been saying it?

Without meaning to, Gwen locked eyes with a random boy from the crowd. His darted away the moment hers neared, prompting his cheeks to fill with red. Heh, Gwen hadn’t realized she was so powerful. Was this what it was like to be Mary Jane? No wonder she loved these parties so much.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Hobie’s voice shook Gwen back to reality. Looked like he was still basking in that aftershock. “Like, you just stand next to her, and she’ll make you think you’re the most important thing in her world.”

“Yeah.” Gwen’s cheeks had started to rise, but now she found them sinking back down. “She’ll… make you think…” A moment passed. “Hey, Hobie? This is none of my business, really, but are you and MJ, y’know…?”

“A couple?” Hobie shrugged. “Well, we haven’t said it in so many words, but…”

“I mean, I didn’t think Mary Jane was interested in real relationships, but then all that stuff with Mark happened-”

“Mark?” Hobie gave a start. “Who’s Mark?”

“Mark Allan?” Gwen’s jaw nearly dropped. “You don’t know about-? Hobie, it was on every news station last February.”

“Wait, the molten guy?” Hobie strained to remember. “Sorry, there’s so many supervillains now… Didn’t he used to work the drama club’s lights?”

“Yeah, and things were serious between him and MJ before he went molten. It was traumatic for her. I mean-” Gwen glanced back at the punch bowl, where Mary Jane seemed to have gotten distracted chatting up some random guy. “-she doesn’t seem traumatized, but, well, how could she not be?” Gwen’s attention returned to Hobie. “She hasn’t said anything to you about it?”

Hobie opened his mouth to reply.

“Hobie! You’re here, too? Awesome!” But the next instant, a group of kids barged towards them. The approach of Flash and Kong made Gwen impulsively cringe, though it was mollified a bit by the presence of Glory. Rand was there, too, though Sally had been replaced with a girl in an expensive-looking violet dress – Janice, if Gwen was remembering right. She was from a different school.

“Great party, huh?” said Flash.

“I’ve seen better,” muttered Janice from behind her phone.

“I-It’s pretty good.” Hobie looked almost relieved to have gotten a word in. “I’m really just here to hang out with Mary Jane, though. We’re, uh, we’re kind of a thing now.” Gwen didn’t know what response Hobie had expected. A round of high-fives, maybe, but definitely not a round of awkward stares. “What?”

“No, no, that’s cool,” said Flash. “Mary Jane’s pretty great. I mean, even I tried to go out with her at first, but-”

“But what?” Hobie’s voice had gone a note higher.

“She’s a gigantic slut,” Kong said through a mouthful of brownie.

It was just one tiny syllable, yet it sent a ripple through the group. Hobie looked dumbfounded, Gwen looked horrified, Janice looked amused, and Glory looked a second away from clawing Kong’s eyes out. “Kenneth. Kong.”

“What?” Kong swallowed with a little more noise than Gwen would’ve liked. “She is!”

In a rare display of thoughtfulness, Flash seemed to notice Hobie’s face. He looked over at him, took a breath, and said, “Look, we don’t have anything against her, but you gotta face the facts, man. MJ totally led me on after the formal, and then when I tried to get too serious with her, she played the ‘free agent’ card like she always does.” He made finger quotes to punctuate his point.

“And then she went through the same song and dance with just about every other guy on the football team,” said Rand. “And some of the cheerleaders...”

“Ah, she’s one of those girls,” spoke up Janice. “Lemme guess, she just so happened to hit on those cheerleaders while a crowd of guys was nearby-?”

“She’s not faking being bi!” Next thing Gwen knew, every head had snapped her way. They looked as surprised as she felt – Gwen hadn’t expected her words to hold so much bile.

“Nerdette? Is that you?” Flash’s eyes had gone wide. “Damn, and I thought your last remodel was-” He was cut off by the closest Gwen could come to The Look without her glasses.

“I can’t believe you guys.” Gwen had to fight to keep from trembling. “Some friends you are… H-How do you think Mary Jane’s going to feel when I tell her what you all really think of her?”

“We don’t have a problem with her, though,” Flash said tightly. “It’s just pretty obvious every guy on the football team’s getting a turn with her, and I’m trying to spare Hobie from going through what I had to-”

“But MJ really does like me!” Hobie’s voice didn’t hold nearly the bile of Gwen’s. It was trembling too much for that. “Because she, uh, she loves theater, and she liked me as Puck, so I’m… not just a random football player to her.”

“That’s exactly right, Hobie.” Gwen put a hand on his back. “You don’t have to listen to this crap.” Her gaze moved to Flash. “I mean, isn’t that exactly how you got Sha Shan to like you?” When Flash failed to reply, Gwen turned to Glory. “Glory, come on, you’re MJ’s friend, too. Back us up here.”

But Glory’s face seemed to have grown more bemused over the course of the conversation. “Well… I’m definitely not judging Mary Jane or anything, but now that I think about it, she does engage in some behaviors I find a bit… off-putting.” On the last word, she shot a stabbing glance Gwen’s way.

Gwen found herself hugging her chest. She hadn’t noticed before, but Glory seemed to be wearing, y’know, her normal amount of clothing. In fact, the more Gwen examined the crowd, the more girls she spotted wearing that amount, and the more difficult it grew for Gwen to stop from trembling. Maybe she was just cold. She wasn’t exactly protecting herself from the elements here.

“Okay, but- but me and MJ really hit it off at the Fall Formal,” said Hobie.

Flash snorted. “Yeah, everyone hit it off with her at the formal. More guys danced with her than didn’t.”

“And yeah, she dated Mark for a while,” added Rand, “but she couldn’t go five minutes without reminding everyone those were ‘un-dates.’”

“Unbelievable.” Gwen’s brow had started to quiver.

“Oh, and MJ’s part of the reason me and Liz broke up,” added Flash.

“She didn’t make you go to Coney Island with her!” Whoa, Gwen’s voice had actually carried over the music. She was drawing onlookers, and not with her outfit this time. “You’re- You’re projecting! Maybe MJ’s not the slut here, Eugene?”

“Projecting?” snapped Flash. “Mary Jane posed like a camgirl in my birthday video. When my MOM was holding the camera!”

For a moment, the only noise in the group came from the background music.

“She did not,” said Gwen.

Flash whipped out his phone. “Oh yeah? Wanna see?”

“You kept it?” said Janice with a smirk.

Gwen had to admit, she was a little tempted to lean over Flash’s shoulder and watch the screen just to, err, judge for herself. But before Gwen had the chance to resist that temptation, a breathy voice said, “Don’t worry, I’m back! The party’s fun again!”

Every last eye became trapped on the approaching redhead.

“Cool balancing trick, huh?” Mary Jane handed the plastic cups in her hands to Gwen and Hobie, who robotically accepted, and then retrieved the third cup for herself from its resting place on the, err, window of her top. “I knew us gals had these things for a reason.” She took a sip. “This punch is amazing. This is, like, my fourth cup.”

The group stared at her in dead, dead silence.

“You’re new.” MJ’s head snapped towards Janice. “Hi, I’m Mary Jane Watson. But I’m sure my rep precedes me.”

“Actually-” Janice’s eyes flitted to the rest of the group. “-I think it really does.” She waved a hand. “Hi. Janice L-”

“Hey, MJ?” But just then, Gwen gave MJ’s shoulder a tap. “Sorry, but can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, talk away.” MJ spun towards her. When Gwen failed to reply, MJ said, “Ohhh, you mean in private.” Gwen nodded, and so Mary Jane strutted away alongside her, but not before turning back to wink at the group. “Sorry, I gotta go. Now the party’s boring again.”

Gwen hadn’t the faintest idea where she was going, meaning she ended up leading MJ into the laundry room. This was about as private a location as they’d manage given the circumstances, Gwen supposed. A pair of boys was making out behind the washing machine, one small and mousy, the other big and burly, but they didn’t pay the girls any notice. Well, MJ paid them notice – She started to whistle and applaud before Gwen yanked her away.

“Can you please get serious?” Gwen folded the door shut, trapping them inside. Now the only light came from the glowing buttons of the washer and dryer. It made everything look blue. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but this party isn’t for me. Can we leave?”

“Leave? Aww, but we just got here!” MJ lurched forward, letting the cup fall from her hands and spill punch all over a stray towel.

“Well-” Finally, Gwen gave into temptation and fidgeted with the part of her nose where her glasses usually sat. “-you can double back after you take me home. I know you want to spend time with Hobie-”

“What?” MJ blinked. “No, forget Hobie. He’s boring without his costume. I care about-”

“Without his what?”

“I care about you.” Okay, MJ seriously did need to warn Gwen before touching both her shoulders like this. “I’m not staying here if you’re not staying. We could just go back to your place. To- To hang out.”

Gwen took a breath. “I don’t want to ruin your night, though.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna ruin yours.” MJ’s head was a lot droopier, all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, girlfriend. I just wanted to help you get over your breakup with Peter and stuff.”

Gwen couldn’t help but wince. That was the first time MJ had dropped the P-word in weeks. Huh. Weird…

“And I only pressured you into one of my slutty outfits to, y’know, build up your confidence.” MJ’s head gave another lurch. “And because you’re super cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Hey-!” Gwen tried to squirm away, but those hands stayed tight on her shoulders. With the light shining on it, Gwen’s face must’ve looked bright purple.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” MJ carried on rambling, oblivious to her struggle. “I’ve been a real shitty friend lately. I mean, if you knew how much I’ve been hanging out with your ex, you’d hate my guts.”

The squirming came to an abrupt halt. “Excuse me?”

“But it’s not fair, though, because he’s my friend, too, and I’m a full-blooded bisexual anyways, so, like, should I quit hanging out with both of you?” Mary Jane’s words were gaining in speed and losing in articulation. “I could be crushing on you for all Pete knows.”

“Oh,” said Gwen, more to herself than to MJ.

“Ah, look at me.” MJ released Gwen’s shoulder so she could slap her own forehead. “Why do I gotta make everything so dramatic? Must be my inner theater geek. C’mon, Gwen, you know you’re just my gal pal.”

“Are- Are you feeling okay?”

MJ answered by lurching again. “All those losers drooling on my shoes at my old schools… I don’t even remember their names anymore. But you’re different, Gwen. You and Pete. You’re special. I’m never gonna forget Gwen Stacy. Gwen. Gwen Gwen Gwen Gwen Gw-”

Gwen was forced to catch her before MJ face-planted on the carpet. “MJ, what’s…” Gwen’s eyes darted to the cup in her own hand, then to the one MJ had let drop on the towels. “…in this punch?”

“Huh?” MJ murmured into Gwen’s shoulder. “Oh, c’mon, this party’s for high schoolers. The punch isn’t-” She was forced press a hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden burp. “Okay, I might be a little buzzed, now that I think about it.”

“Oh my god.” Gwen’s grip tightened. “Did someone roofie you?”

MJ laughed. “What? That’s just in movies. No one actually does that.”

“Yes they do! My dad sees it all the-”

“Gwen, Gwen, listen. This is important.” Now MJ’s face was a mere three inches from Gwen’s. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. You know that, right? Nothing matters more to me than making you happy. Nothing. You deserve to be happy after…” MJ’s lids were shutting. “…all the Spider-Man stuff Peter’s put you through.”

The next instant, Mary Jane found herself shoved onto the towels.

“What did you say?” If Gwen’s pulse hadn’t been pounding before, it was now.

“Whuh?” MJ flopped backwards, rubbing her head. “What did I say?”

“He-?” Gwen’s mind was racing. “He told y-?”

Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap. She nearly sprang onto the ceiling. Someone was knocking even louder than the m- Actually, come to think of it, what’d happened to the music?

Gwen risked a peek out of the laundry room. Turned out the knocking hadn’t been on this door, but the front one. The sound had sent the party into a panic of fleeing girls and cowering boys spreading whispers of a spiked punch bowl.

But Gwen managed to stay calm. At least until she saw who was on the other side of that front door. “Alright, break it up. We’ve got noise complaints, reports of underage drinking…” The sight of that tidy, platinum hair over that wizened face nearly made her faint.

“Seriously?” She spun back to the towel pile, eyes bulging. “If my dad sees me like this, he’ll make me join a convent!” Gwen gestured to her top, which was honestly more of a large pink ribbon wrapped around the right places.

“Your dad?” If anything could make MJ sober up, it was that. She sprang upright on the towels, matching Gwen’s face with her own. “What’s a police captain doing here?”

“He must’ve been in the neighborhood when the cops got called.” Gwen retreated deeper into the laundry room, shaking her head and hugging herself. “Oh god, my life’s flashing before my eyes.”

“Um, uh-” Mary Jane’s own eyes darted around the area. “Maybe you can trade clothes with one of them?” She pointed at a thumb at the two boys, who continued to make out, pleasantly oblivious to their surroundings.

Gwen stared a moment at their matching flannel jackets. “Yeah, because Dad would take that way better-”

“The fire escape.” Mary Jane pulled herself to her feet, though she was a bit on the wobbly side. “It’s a straight shot from here to there. I’ll distract him, you run.”

“Really?” Before she realized what she was doing, Gwen’s arms were around MJ’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

Wow, who’d have thought Mary Jane’s natural propensity for distracting would come in handy?

“Cap’n Stacy?” Mary Jane managed to approach him without swaying too much. “Oh my god, you like parties, too? No way!”

Captain Stacy gave her a wry smile as he marched across the apartment’s living room, which was considerably emptier than it’d been a minute ago. What a mystery. “Watson.” He nodded to her.

“Sherlock.” MJ nodded back.

Behind her, MJ caught a sound that she could only hope was a poor girl running to the fire escape. MJ didn’t envy Gwen. Especially not in those heels. Youch.

“How many more times are we going to meet like this?” Luckily, Captain Stacy’s eyes remained planted on MJ amid the chaos.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you to worry, sir, but I’ve cleaned up my act.” Mary Jane took a step back, though she stumbled a bit. “I’m gay as an-” She hiccuped. “-straight as an arrow now.” It was shortly followed by another hiccup.

That wry smile had grown a bit more strained. “Then you’d have no problem taking a breathalyzer test?” Captain Stacy reached into his uniform’s pocket to retrieve a gray, squarish device with a little plastic tube coming out the top.

Mary Jane couldn’t look away from it. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course. Duh. I mean, I don’t know why you’d waste your time on me when there are so many other kids here who’re clearly plastered, but- but okay.”

“Well, I might have something of a bias-” Captain Stacy shoved the device into her perfectly-manicured hands. “-seeing as you’re my daughter’s personal hero.”

“Me?” MJ couldn’t help but smirk. “You, uh, sure you don’t have me mixed up with someone else?”

At this, Captain Stacy sighed. He had to tilt his head to meet her gaze. Dude was tall. “Gwen thinks the world of you, Watson. You’re her friend. She doesn’t have many of those.” He nodded to the breathalyzer. “Now let’s make sure that admiration isn’t misplaced, shall we?”

Mary Jane swallowed. “Right. Here goes.” Slowly, she brought the tube to her lips…

Thump. But a sudden noise turned all heads towards the balcony. MJ was so startled, she let the breathalyzer tumble to the carpet. There perched on the balcony railing, was Hobie, dressed in his super suit, cape and all. Had he dropped down from the roof? When had he-?

Mary Jane glanced around the room, but the gang of Midtown High kids (plus Janice) was nowhere in sight.

“The Prowler?” Instantly, Captain Stacy’s gun was drawn, but he didn’t have time to point it before Hobie filled the balcony with smoke. “Everyone run!” Stacy glanced back at MJ. “I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

The funny thing was, MJ knew Hobie was harmless, but she couldn’t exactly communicate that to the rest of the crowd. They seemed to have presumed the worst, given how fast they were fleeing. Problem was, they couldn’t see an inch in front on them with all this smoke filling the place. Now kids were tripping over each other like some screwed up version of Twister, and somehow in the confusion, the music got turned back on:

“Walkin’ through the city,

Lookin’ oh so pretty.

I've just got to find my way…”

MJ couldn’t see a thing. She’d been going for the front door, but instead she ended up on the balcony. She’d hardly had time to realize that, though, before someone’s arms were around her from behind. Her screams didn’t even stand out from the rest of the crowd’s.

“I’m here,” said a familiar voice in her ear.

MJ held on tight, and then there was the pwing of a wrist-mounted grappling hook, followed by a rush of air.

“See the ladies flashin’,

All their legs and lashes.

I've just got to find my way…”

After a gut-wrenching minute, Mary Jane was deposited on a random rooftop. She took a second to catch her breath, then turned to find Hobie perched on a smokestack. That mask of his looked like it was scowling right at her.

“What are you doing?” MJ asked, panting.

“Saving your skin!” Hobie snapped. “You’re lucky I had the suit in my backpack. I mean, I was, uh, maybe thinking about showing off for the crowd, but I guess that plan’s a bust now.” He took a moment to pant, himself. “Why didn’t you just tell the cop the truth? You didn’t know that punch was spiked. Do you have any idea how bad you made yourself look?”

“I don’t know, I choked!” MJ stumbled back, hands on her scalp. “I get stupid when I’m tipsy. But-” She took a steadying breath. “-thanks for bailing me out. You coulda gotten shot. That was really brave of you.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Hobie jumped down so he could walk towards her.

“Well… I am now. Thanks.”

The couple’s loving stare was cut off by the sound of popping from behind them. Turned out this building was right across from the East River. MJ and Hobie stood there a minute, watching the explosions paint the black sky with color.

“Guess you left an impression on that security guard. You must be pretty infamous if the police captain knows who you are.” MJ found herself smiling. “You’ve even got a proper codename now – the Prowler.”

Hobie scoffed. “That makes me sound like some kinda pervert.”

“Your costume must be givin’ ’em the wrong idea…”

There was a laugh, but it was kinda jumpy. And short-lived. “Hey. I like you.”

MJ’s arms wrapped around his neck. “I like you, too.”

“No, I mean, I really like you.” Gently, Hobie removed his clawed gloved so he could put a hand on the back of her head. “And not just because you think my costume’s cool. I was one of the last people in line to dance with you at the Fall Formal. I thought you were gonna bail, but… you didn’t.”

“Oh. Right. The formal. Pretty good meet-cute story.” MJ had danced with Hobie? Had that been when she was bored and looking to pass the time until Peter got back? Or had that been when she’d danced with Seymour? God, it all blended together.

“Pretty good?” Hobie cocked his head. “No, MJ, you don’t get it. This is a big deal to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend before.” His face was unreadable behind that mask. “You are my girlfriend… right?”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Why do we have to put labels on everything?” Mary Jane’s stepped back, though her go-go boot nearly slipped on a rain puddle. “Can’t we just have fun without sweating the…?” Um, had the Prowler mask’s design always been this unnerving? “I- I mean, yeah, we can be exclusive if- if it’s really important to you. You’re cute, and you’re into theater, and you’re sweet and sensitive and smart and all that jazz, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be your girlfriend.”

“You sound thrilled.” Hobie’s face may have been unreadable, but his voice was definitely quivering.

“Hey, c’mon, I don’t wanna argue. Arguments are a drag.” MJ touched a palm to his chest. “You know what’s not a drag? Making out. Would you feel better if we made-?”

The Prowler drew away from her, his cape swishing over his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” A groan escaped MJ’s mouth. “We’ve already made out, like, a gazillion times. Why didn’t you bring this up before?”

The Prowler said nothing.

“Hobie, I’m sorry! I’m happy to be your girlfriend. I am.”

He aimed his grappling hook at a far-off building.

“Hey, don’t leave me up here! I’m sorry! I mean it. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I told you, I’m stupid when I’m-”

It was at this point that Hobie swung away. Or at least, he would’ve. Except that, in MJ’s hurry to stop him, her boot happened to slip on a puddle and snag on his cape.

“Wha-?” So instead, MJ got to watch the violet sheet rip off his shoulders and send Hobie tumbling over the edge. “Holy-!”

Instead of the familiar pwing of a grappling hook securely latching into its target, there was a more disheartening pwonk of a grappling hook kind of hitting its target, but not completely. The sharp part had embedded itself halfway through one of the smokestacks, but the weight was already making it creak.

But MJ hardly noticed that. Her attention was more occupied by the sight of the Prowler swinging around the end of the cable like a pinball until he came smashing shoulder-first into the side of the building. Ooh, his shoulder had gone right into a windowsill. Watching it had made MJ wince.

“Hobie?” And now the cable wasn’t reeling itself in. The sudden force must’ve broke the mechanism. Mary Jane ran to where the hook had landed and tried her best to pull Hobie up, but she couldn’t get the thing to budge. She wasn’t… strong enough. “Hobie, listen, I’m gonna get you help.”

MJ leaned over the building’s edge. There was Hobie, dangling a good several feet above the darkened street below, hanging onto the cable for dear life. He was doing it one-handed, though – Looked like his other arm had broken from the impact.

Hobie’s masked head tilted skyward. “Nine-one-one! Call nine-one-one!”

“I can’t go back to juvie!” The moment the words were out her mouth, Mary Jane dug her nails into her forehead. Why had she said that out loud? Idiot.

Her eyes fell on the clawed gloves lying beside her on the roof. Hobie had gotten so worked up, he’d forgotten them. Not like it mattered, though. He couldn’t climb with a busted arm, and MJ’s hands were so dainty, the gloves would slide right off her. Mary Jane was no good at… crawling walls.

MJ did her best to navigate her phone screen despite her pounding forehead. “Come on, come on, pick up…”

It only rang a minute before a groggy voice said, “MJ? What’s wrong?”

“I need you!” MJ all but screamed into the receiver. “I need you. I need you. Listen to me-”

“Whoa, slow down! You, uh, sound a bit slurred, there-”

“I’m texting you the address right now.” MJ switched to speaker mode so she could type while she talked. “You need to get here. You need to get here now. I need you.”

There was a prolonged silence from Peter’s end. “Are you drunk dialing m-?”

“Hobie Brown is about to fall off a mother%#*$ing building!”

“Who’s ’bout to what now?” The expected amount of stammering ensued. “Okay, but- but what do you want me to do about it-?”

“Don’t you give me any of your $#*%ing *$#% $*#$ #%#*, you #$*% $*%#er! Now you put on your #$** $%#* ##$# Spider-*$*# costume and swing the %$%* *#%# $*$# over here NOW!”

There was another prolonged silence, followed by a click.

“We’re sorry,” said a pleasant female voice, “but your call has been disconnected. To leave a message, please speak after the tone.” Beeeeeeeeep.

Chapter Text

Peter hadn’t had it in him to go see the fireworks. Fireworks, Peter had explained to a concerned Aunt May, reminded him of pop music, and which reminded him of Gwen’s undying hatred for pop music, which reminded him of the time he’d chased Gwen around her bedroom blasting pop music from his phone until she’d whacked him with a pillow enough to make him relent, which reminded him of the part right after that where they’d started laughing and making out, which reminded him that Gwen Stacy was beautiful and perfect in every conceivable way.

So if you were wondering why Peter had spent the past few hours becoming one with his bed covers, there was your answer. He was one lab accident away from having them fuse to his spine and turn him into a blanket-themed supervillain.

Ugh. Peter wished Jameson actually had swamped him with work. At least then he wouldn’t feel like such a waste of space. Why had he lied to MJ about that? He could’ve been on a date (but not a date date) with her right this second! What was wrong with Peter? He hadn’t even needed to work up the guts to ask her in the end – She’d asked him. By all right, Peter should’ve snapped that up. But when the moment of truth had come… he hadn’t been able to get that muffled screaming out of his head. In fact, the memory of it was still bouncing around in Peter’s skull, right alongside all the memories of… of…

Oh god, he’d left the broom in here and the golden bristles reminded him of her haaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiir.

Peter was midway through the process of rolling over on the mattress and moaning when The Itsy-Bitsy Spider sounded from his bed stand. What if that was her? What if she was calling to tell Peter their argument was stupid and Peter definitely didn’t have a death wish and her dad’s treatment of him had been a hundred percent uncalled for and she still loved h-?

Oh, it was just Mary Jane. Peter gave the caller ID a morose stare before answering. “MJ?” He stifled a yawn. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you!”

She needed him.

Spider-Man raced across the Queensboro Bridge, then banked a hard right so he could shoot down the edge of the East River, his backpack fluttering on his spandex-covered shoulders. Web-swinging on the outer row left him bouncing from building to building in a string of horizontal arcs. That always made him dizzy, but Spidey forced himself to concentrate. He had to be close.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Spider-Man found his target. The rooftop with the familiar green-and-purple dude dangling off it was kinda hard to miss, especially with that even-more-familiar redhead at the top frantically trying to reel him in. Spidey sailed towards the guy, though he couldn’t help but roll his eyes behind his mask. This was about the superhero equivalent of watching someone struggle to tie their shoes.

“Wow, you guys.” With a thwip and a whoosh, Spider-Man snatched the dude from midair, vaulted over the side of the building on a web-line, and landed on his feet right across from MJ. “This is the second kinkiest date I’ve ever-”

“Oh thank god.” He couldn’t even finish the quip before MJ’s arms were around him. “I didn’t know you were- When- When you hung up on me, I thought-”

Spider-Man gently pushed her off, then deposited Hobie butt-first on the skylight. At least, he assumed it was Hobie in that getup. Peter was pretty sure he’d caught Hobie Brown’s name over the phone right before the flood of expletives. Guess that was one mystery solved.

Hobie sat in place a moment, clutching his arm and gaping up at the Web-Head. He seemed dazed, though maybe that was just the unblinking mask he was wearing.

“Hobie.” Mary Jane’s arms traveled from one boy to the other. “God, I’m so, so sorry. Are you hurt?”

Hobie stayed silent.

The hug tightened. “Say something!”

“You have Spider-Man on speed dial,” said Hobie.

“You’re welcome,” said Spider-Man.

“Why do you have Spider-Man on speed dial?”

“Yeah.” Spidey gave MJ a pointed look. “Why do you have Spider-Man on speed dial?”

“Um…” She stepped back, hiding herself in the shadow of a neighboring building. “W-Well…” For a moment, her emerald eyes locked with Spidey’s white ones. “I can’t really say without giving away his secret ID, so…”

Hobie scoffed. “Of course. I’d wondered why he showed up at your house. So does Spidey take you swinging around the city on the days I can’t make it?” He trudged over to where his grappling hook had landed, yanked it free, then stood in place as the cord shot back into his wrist like a measuring tape.

“It’s not like that!” MJ started towards him. “He didn’t know I knew.”

Just then, a particularly big firework went off, leaving Mary Jane’s entire body illuminated red. And leaving Peter’s breath in his throat.

“W-Well, you’re on the right rack- track,” Spider-Man said, “but the guy you called isn’t actually me. He’s just an, um, acquaintance.”

The only response MJ gave him was a roll of her eyes. Whoa, even when she was being disdainful, she was gorgeous. Why was she dressed like- like if Black Cat suddenly lost all inhibition? Black boots that went almost to her knees, a black top with a rather large hole in it, black shorts a few inches shy of being a thong…

“Are you Mark Allan?” Hobie’s voice shook Spidey back to reality.

“Yeah, you caught me, I totally moonlight as Molten Man-” This earned a glare from MJ. “Sorry. Seriously, though, I’m the one who put Mark in jail. What, you think he strung himself up over a fire hydrant?”

Hobie’s reply was grumbled under his breath. He knelt to retrieve a pair of clawed gloves from the ground, then turned back to MJ. “What’d you get sent to juvie for?”

Even in the darkness, Spider-Man could tell Mary Jane had flinched.

“What?” So had he. “Juvie?”

“It wasn’t that big a deal.” MJ’s answer was addressed to her boots. “I just spent a month in Coral Moon for stealing my dad’s booze a buncha times. And for, like, general incorrigibility.”

“When was this?” asked Spider-Man.

“I don’t know. Two schools ago, I think.”

The white slits of Hobie’s mask went narrow. “No wonder you and Mark hit it off.”

That lit MJ’s fire. “You mean because he got what I was going through? Yes, actually, that is why.”

“I really am your rebound, aren’t I? Was there ever anything about me that was even the least bit special to you?”

“I fight horrible monstrosities of science that even the cops’ elite SWAT teams can’t handle,” said Spider-Man. “Just… Just throwing that out there.”

“I like you, Hobie! I do. It’s over between me and Mark, so you really don’t have to worry about-”

“That’s not the-!” Hobie was cut off by a pair of thwips. Now his and MJ’s mouths were covered in gobs of webbing.

“I’m gonna count to three,” said Spider-Man.

“Dude,” said Hobie, “I’m wearing a mask. This isn’t stopping me from-”

“I’m gonna count to three, and then I’m gonna take off your web-gags, and you guys are gonna quit arguing and tell me what in the name of Mysterio’s fish bowl is going on here.”

Three counts and one explanation later, Spider-Man was gawking at the other two, head in his hands.

“So you weren’t trying to fight or- or even commit crime,” he said, dumbfounded. “You were just screwing around.”

“It was my idea.” Mary Jane rubbed her mouth, which was still a bit red from the gag. “Hobie was making the suit as, like, an art project at first.”

“Well, yeah, if you wanna larp as a superhero, that’s cool, but it’s when you start adding the smoke-shooter and the blades and the working grappling hook – the stolen working grappling hook – and jumping off rooftops that I gotta question-”

“Come on, man,” said Hobie, whose web-gag Spidey hadn’t bothered to remove. “Have you never web-swung around the city just for fun before?”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve got super spider strength. A fall from this height wouldn’t actually kill me.” As Spider-Man had lovingly demonstrated after his first encounter with Hobgoblin. “Look, I get that being a superhero is cool, but the last thing I want is to watch some stupid kid put himself in-” He nearly bit his tongue. “-danger.” Oh. Maybe he owed Gwen’s dad an apology.

Spider-Man rubbed his temple. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do… I take it you learned your lesson, seeing as you almost went splat a minute ago?”

“Yeah.” Hobie bowed his masked head. “Guess so.”

“And your grappling hook’s busted now, anyways,” said Spidey, “so I’m gonna set you back on solid ground, you’re gonna return everything you stole from your school’s drama club, and then I don’t want to catch you rooftop-hopping again, capiche?”

“Capiche.” Hobie stepped forward, letting Spider-Man put an arm around him.

MJ did, too, but she was stopped. “Hup up up, you’re not going anywhere yet, young lady. You and the Hobester can deal with your love drama on your own time. Right now, you and me gotta have some words. Be back in a sec.”

MJ didn’t protest, and so Spidey spun a web to the conveniently-placed crane above them and descended to the sidewalk below.

Once they’d touched down, he released Hobie, though the poor dumb kid was still nursing his arm.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Hobie murmured. “Sorry I didn’t say that right away. And thanks for not webbing me up and handing me to the cops.”

At this, Spider-Man sighed. “You’re not a bad kid, Hobe. You’re quiet and dorky and you like to work alone on little pet projects. I totally get it.” More than Hobie would ever realize. “It’s just, the more features you added to that cool costume of yours, the more powerful it became, and, if I can polish off an old chestnut, the more responsible you needed to be with it.”

Hobie nodded for a moment, then tugged off his mask. His pink, damp eyes were visible only a moment before they were hidden behind his hands. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“Dude, you built a working super-suit.” Spidey brought a hand to his shoulder. “You’ve got a real gift, and I know you’ll put it to good use someday. And for what it’s worth, I hope you and your girl can work things out.”

With that, Spider-Man spun yet another web, and Hobie watched him sail off beneath the fireworks.

“Oh, and for the record,” Spidey called back down, “the rooftop-hopping life’s not all it’s cracked up to be, anyways. Count yourself lucky you got off the ride before it hit the sudden drop.”

Spider-Man found Mary Jane huddled by the rooftop’s smokestack, hugging her knees.

“Luuuucy…” He touched down beside her, turning her head his way. “…you’ve got some s’plainin’ to do.”

“I’m sorry about all this.”

“You’re lucky the Parker kid had my number.” Spidey was trying to do something of a Brooklyn accent, but he wasn’t sure how gracefully he pulled it off. “I ring his cell when I want my pic in the paper, okay? We split the cut. Don’t tell his boss.”

At this, MJ rose to her feet. “You don’t have to bother with that, Peter. I know it’s you in there.”

Great. It figured an airhead like Mary Jane would be a believer in the dance remix video. She probably frequented Eddie’s dumb forum, too-

“I was at my aunt’s house the night you lost your uncle.”

Peter nearly yelped like a pup whose tail had been stepped on. “You were?”

“My folks were having another one of their episodes, so I had to run over there. For my own sanity.” MJ’s eyes clamped shut. “There were so many cop cars by your place… I wanted to go tell you I was sorry, but we’d never met before. It woulda been awkward, y’know?” No response. “I thought you were just some sheltered weirdo. Then I saw you climb out the window in your costume.”

“And you realized I wasn’t a weirdo at all?”

MJ managed a smile. “Sure.”

“And… you get that being Spider-Man isn’t a game to me?”

MJ’s eyes traveled to the dented smokestack where a grappling hook had once been embedded. “Well, if I didn’t before, I sure as heck do now…”

“And you’ve known all this time?”

“Since Spider-Man day one, yeah.”

A minute passed. “So when you said I filled out my Halloween costume nicely…?”

The smile widened. “I was screwing with you. I do that.”

“But why didn’t you ever tell me all this before?”

MJ only reply was a shrug. “Maybe I would’ve eventually. But sure as heck not like this.” Silence. “It just seemed so big and heavy. Your whole motivation for fighting crime, I mean. It felt like, I don’t know, like I was intruding in your life.”

His motivation for fighting crime? Looked like MJ had managed to reverse engineer a good chunk of Spider-Man’s origin story, there. The only other person to do that was Gwen’s dad. Not bad for an airhead.

“No, no, it’s cool.” On impulse, Spidey brought a hand to her shoulder. “I mean, I guess you know not to go blabbing about this to everyone, or you’d have done it already.” Oh lord, she wasn’t wearing sleeves. He was touching her skin. He was touching her skin.

The hand darted away with enough subtlety to catch MJ’s eye. She gave him a look.

“The- The truth is-” Behind his mask, Peter’s own eyes shut. Here went nothing. “-I’ve kinda been keeping something from you, too. Besides the obvious, I mean. I...” He had to wrench each syllable out his mouth. “…lied to you about being swamped with work the other day. I was just a bit jumpy about spending too much alone time with you because… because…”

Mary Jane gave another smile. One considerably more bittersweet. “You don’t have to say it, Tiger.” For a moment, though, the sweet outweighed the bitter. “I’ve been around enough guys to know what goes through those heads of yours. I really don’t mind.” She let out a soft laugh. “I mean, I wouldn’t be dressed like this if I did.” But then the bitter made a sudden comeback. “But I wasn’t trying to toy with your feelings or anything.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ve got crazy teenage boy hormones, that’s all.”

“Well, to your credit, ninety-nine percent of straight guys would’ve made a move on me by now, so… thanks for being chill about it.” Finally, the sweetness and bitterness found a good balance. “Guess we both learned rebounds aren’t as fun as they seem.” MJ brought a hand to her eyes. “Look at me. I made such a big deal about not wanting to be Flash’s replacement girl, and then one breakup later, I turned around and got myself a replacement guy. I’m a real piece of work…”

“You’re human,” said Spider-Man. “The important thing is that you tell Hobie the truth. He deserves that much.”

Mary Jane gave a nod. “Tiger? Thanks for… for answering my call for help.” She offered out a fist. “Friends?”

Spider-Man bumped it with his own. “Friends.”

For a second, the two of them stood there, watching the fireworks over the river.

“Would your teenage boy hormones go too crazy if I hugged you right now?”

“Well, I’m not gonna stop you…”

“Smooth.” Her arms squeezed his shoulders. “Y’know, I’ve never thanked you for all the times you saved my life.”

“And you’ll never have to,” said Spidey in his goofiest, scratchiest voice.

MJ laughed. “Really, though, with all the lives you’ve saved, you’ve gotta be the greatest guy in history behind, like, Steve and Fred Rogers.”

“Oh, I-I’m no better than your average cop or firefighter.”

“Modest, too?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Spider-Man hugged back. He’d just remembered he was in full-body spandex, so he technically wasn’t touching her skin.

“Peter?” MJ’s voice was getting slurred again. “I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

He touched a hand to her hair. But, see, he had on a glove, so technically… “Why would I hate you?”

“I don’t know. Hobie’s got plenty of reasons…” MJ was quiet for a bit. “Sorry for swearing at you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for every little thing,” Spider-Man said softly. “You were stressed. I get it.”

“I hate when I swear. It makes me sound like my… my… Hhngh.” Mid-sentence, Mary Jane yanked herself free so she could sprint to the edge of the rooftop.

“MJ?” Spidey started after her. “What’s wrong-?”

For a crazed second, he thought she was gonna jump, but instead she fell to her knees. MJ’s head was the only thing that went past the edge. Well, her head and the torrent of sludge that erupted from it to plummet to the street below.

“Guh.” MJ drew back, wiping her lips on her arm.

“Well,” said Spider-Man, “that was the least sexy thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“I’m sure it’s someone’s fetish…”

J. Jonah Jameson leaned back on the bench, gazing wide-eyed at the array of colors in the sky above.

“Oh, Jonah.” At his side, his wonderful wife placed her hand over his. “I’m almost glad the bus is late. The fireworks are so beautiful.”

“Wait.” Jameson did a double take. “That’s not a firew-” Sploosh.

How could putting on clothes make Peter feel so dirty? It must’ve been that look of utter fascination plastered on Mary Jane’s face the whole time. It definitely wasn’t helping his heart rate. And frankly, the revelation that MJ knew exactly what his teen boy brain was thinking and didn’t mind in the slightest… Well, that wasn’t helping, either.

Once Peter’s shoes were on his feet, his mask and gloves were in his pockets, and the rest of his costume was hidden beneath long sleeves and sweat pants, he and Mary Jane emerged from the alleyway to hurry down the sidewalk. Good thing they were in Manhattan, or it might’ve actually been dark out by now.

“…so what if you screwed him over?” MJ was saying. “Sounds like the wrestling guy had it coming.”

“I know,” said Peter, “except it turned out it was the same thief.”

“Seriously?” MJ was left gaping at him. “Jesus, Peter, that is, like, a one in a million… Someone up there hates you.”

“Boy, has that thought ever occurred to me…”

“Well… I guess I get why you do what you do, then.” As they walked, MJ touched a hand to his arm. “I always kinda knew you were dealing with a lot, but I’d never realized…”

“It’s okay.” Peter took a breath. “Except now Gwen’s got it in her head that I’m trying to, like, die heroically to absolve myself, and I can’t get it out of her head.”

“Because the Sinister Six almost killed you and she freaked out?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Color Peter impressed. MJ was a quick study. “And- And I don’t know what to do, so I guess I just don’t get to have a girlfriend now.” His eyes met the pavement. “Maybe that someone up there is trying to tell me I don’t deserve one.”

After that, the two of them simply trudged along, watching the lightshow overhead.

“I’ll talk to her,” said Mary Jane. “Try to change her mind.”

“Good luck.”

MJ sighed. “Hey, chin up, Tiger. Things aren’t as bad as- Oh, there she is!”

The next instant, she and Peter were hurrying across the parking lot of an apartment complex. In the grass to the side was a faded red Buick (on loan from Anna Watson), and beside that was… was…

“Gwen?” Peter was shocked his voice still worked. He wouldn’t have known it was her, but that face had occupied enough of his dreams for him to recognize it on sight. Her legs were- and- and her shoulders were- and lord help him, he could see her tummy. Like, all of it.

It took Peter longer than it should’ve to notice the look on Gwen’s face. “Mary Jane! Where have you been? What’s Peter doing here?” It was a perfect cocktail of terrified, relieved, and furious. “And Peter, did you-?” She got within heart attack-causing distance of him. “Did you TELL Mary Jane?”

“I found out on my own!” MJ pushed her way between them, waving her hands. “Pete had no idea till just now.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I’m confused.” Peter backed away, hand to his head. His eyes darted between the girls. “How did you know that I know that she knows that-?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything to both of you later-” MJ’s head swiveled towards the not-insignificant number of partygoers still lurking about. “-in private.” She knelt to fiddle with her boot.

It took Peter a second to realize what she was fishing out of there. “Oh, your keys. Guess that’s the, uh, least uncomfortable place to put ’em?”

MJ flashed him a smirk. “There’s no room anywhere else…”

But the moment MJ lurched towards her car, Gwen blocked her path. “Don’t even think about it. You had four cups of that punch.”

“Huh?” Peter gave a start. “Punch?”

“Later.” MJ’s keys were hurriedly returned to whence they came. “Sorry, Gwen, you’re right. I’ll have to, err, leave the car here and come back for it in the morning. Unless either of you know how to drive?” She gave the other two a glance.

Peter gestured to the web-shooters under his sleeves, while Gwen said, “My dad let me drive his squad car. In a cul-de-sac. Once.”

A moment passed.

“We’ll take the subway.”

“Yeah.”

“The subway sounds good.”

It was weird for Peter to think that he was beneath the East River fireworks show right now. But then, that paled in comparison to the weirdness of sitting side-by-side with his gorgeous ex-girlfriend, and that paled in comparison to the weirdness of sitting side-by-side with his gorgeous ex-girlfriend with another gorgeous girl sprawled across their laps, sound asleep. Neither of them had the heart to move her, despite the looks they were getting from other passengers.

Peter watched MJ’s chest rise and fall. She could put the firework show to shame. Look at her, resting her torso on Peter’s knees and her head on Gwen’s, letting her hair fall where it pleased. There was something hypnotizing about it, and not because MJ was hot. In fact, maybe it was because she wasn’t hot right now – Peter had never seen Mary Jane look childlike before. If you ignored her outfit and focused on her body language, well, you wouldn’t think she was the least bit sultry. If anything, she brought to mind Liz’s cat whenever it’d shown its belly to him. It was almost weirder than watching MJ puke – which, come to think of it, was also analogous to Liz’s cat.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” said Gwen.

“Whuh?” Peter almost jolted hard enough to send MJ tumbling to the grimy floor.

Gwen head traveled downward. “She really is beautiful.”

“I told you, Gwen, we’re just friends.” The only reason Peter had been studying MJ was because studying the other girl made his heart thump way too loud. “And, I mean, even if looking beautiful was all it took for me to like someone… you’d have nothing to worry about.”

“God, Peter.” Gwen’s hands snapped to her face. “You know how I am with mushy stuff.”

Her defenses were crumbling. The words poured from Peter’s mouth all the faster: “You look great. More than great. You’re gorgeous.”

“I…” Gwen’s fingers had been pressed to her eyes, but they were starting to lower. “I know. I know that now.” She paused. “So are you.” Then groaned. “Why did I just say that?”

“Well, the sweatshirt and sweatpants look isn’t my best, but hey, who am I to argue with a beautiful woman?”

“Stop it.” He’d gotten her giggling. That was good. That was very good.

Time for the coup de grâce. “I miss you.”

At this, Gwen’s head shot away. But after a moment, Peter heard a faint voice say, “I miss you, too.”

Peter had to keep from grinning like a maniac. “I was a jerk to you, and you didn’t deserve that. You were right about- about your dad. He was just looking out for me.” Gently, he took her hands. “You forgive me?”

Hers clamped around his. “I forgive you for that, Peter. But…”

“But what?” Peter squeezed back. “Why are we doing this to ourselves?”

“Why?” Out of nowhere, Gwen’s voice gained speed. “How about because I wake up crying in the middle of the night about Eddie or- or Harry killing me? Killing you? Every night?”

She’d been trying to whisper, but she might as well have screamed it at him. “Gwen…”

“Sometime it happens when I’m awake, right in the middle of class. I’ll be sitting there, and I’ll start… falling.”

“Gwen… c’mere.” Peter leaned in for a hug, though it required him to shove MJ’s torso half-off him. “I have nightmares, too.” He took a breath. “Carnage made me scared of the color red. I’m not kidding. I’m not being goofy. I- I see him every time I…” The sentence proved impossible to finish. “But is making ourselves lonely and miserable really helping anything? I love you, Gwen, and I know you feel the sa-”

“I fell in love with you when I thought you were normal!” That last word echoed enough to turn heads.

“Oh, that’s fair.” The hug came to an abrupt end. “I never asked to be bit by-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Gwen was left rubbing a thumb on the bridge of her nose. “I know that. I do love you. I love you, and you’re doing the best you can, and you’re saving lives. But… that’s just it, isn’t it?” A sniffle escaped her. “You’re going to let yourself die in that stupid costume, and there’s not a thing I can do to stop you.” Another sniffle. “I can’t do this. I can’t be your girlfriend and your therapist and your doctor and- and the one who helps you wash blood off your spandex. I’m sorry.”

“Gwen.” His heart hurt. Like, it literally ached every time it beat. “I swear to you, I don’t have a death wish.”

Gwen’s gaze returned to MJ’s head in her lap. “I wish I believed you.”

They spent the rest of the ride staring at her.

“...ary Jane? Mary Jane, wake up. We’re here.”

“Nngh… Mom?” It wasn’t until MJ rubbed the sleep from her eyes that she realized her mistake. “Oh! Girlfriend!” Instantly, Mary Jane was on her feet, cranking the foxiness faucet as far as it’d crank. “And Tiger. Thanks. You guys make for a pretty good bed. We gotta do this again sometime.” She hoped she sounded foxy enough. Her head was killing her, but she didn’t dare clutch it.

After that, they exited the train, made their way out the station, and headed for Gwen’s house. It was considerably darker down in Queens, though there were a handful of local fireworks to light the way. MJ ended up skipping ahead down the sidewalk while the lovebirds trailed behind.

Another word wasn’t spoken until they’d reached the Stacy household. Peter was politely asked to wait on the porch while Gwen escorted MJ in for a private chat. Mary Jane could never get over how clean this house was. Or how quiet. Like, for example, Gwen actually made her bed. What was even the point of that when you were gonna mess it up again come nightfall? The mind boggled.

But the girls scarcely made it past the welcome mat, let alone to the bedroom, before Gwen trapped Mary Jane in her arms. “You knew all this time?”

“Sorry I never told you,” said MJ. “I wasn’t sure if you knew or not. And, y’know, if I’d spilled the beans to you, I thought Tiger might freak out and hate me.” The next couple seconds were spent purely on hugging. Eventually, though, MJ blurted out, “This whole mess is my fault. I knew Pete was Spider-Man all along, and I pushed you towards him anyways. It never even occurred to me that being a superhero could ever be anything but fun.” She brought a palm to her temple. “I’m such an airhead.”

Gwen gave a wry smile. “Well, I must be one, too, then, because when I first found out, I thought it was the greatest thing to ever happen in my life. Guess the other shoe had to drop sometime.”

Suddenly, MJ’s hand was over Gwen’s. “Oh, you’re a total airhead. An airhead who’s top of her class and a savant on the sax and spends her free time at the local science lab-” She caught herself. “But, well, I’ve spoiled you enough with that outfit. Your ego’s gotta be almost as big as mine by now.”

The two shared a jittery laugh.

“You know,” said MJ, “from what he’s said to me, I really don’t think Peter’s got a death wish.”

In the blink of an eye, Gwen’s humor vanished. “That’s because you didn’t see him running off to fight the Six. It was like he couldn’t wait to get the snot beaten out of him.”

“But-”

“And frankly, Peter’s not the only one I’m worried about.” The hug’s strength grew tenfold. “You’re lucky I came to that party with you, MJ. If you’d been alone… I don’t wanna think about it. You can’t just go to these things and drink whatever some stranger hands you-”

“I know that. I know that.” With each word, MJ’s head traveled closer to Gwen’s shoulder. “I swear I will never do something that stupid again. You had enough of a drug scare with your old boyfriend…” But then MJ shut her eyes. The past few hours flashed behind them, and the next thing MJ knew, there was a good foot and a half of distance between her and Gwen. “Oh, and I’m sorry if, uh… Drunk-Me did anything to- to creep you out.”

“Creep me out?” Gwen gave her a look. “You didn’t really, no. You just worried me. But I mean…” She glanced away, shrinking. “…if anything, that punch made you friendlier.”

“W-Well, what can I say?” MJ forced a laugh. “Drunk-Me’s a big softie.”

“And I really don’t mind you hanging out with Peter. You were totally right. I mean, you are bi, so…”

“Yep.” A moment passed. “Anyways, I gotta get home. It’s super late. So… bi. Uh, bye.”

“Hold up.” But Gwen grabbed her arm before MJ could get too near the door. “We’re not done here yet.” Gwen knelt to retrieve a pink cell from her own high-heeled boot. “First, we’re calling my dad so you can explain the truth to him.” But then she hiccuped and glanced down at the thick pink ribbon wrapped around her otherwise bear torso. “Oh, but maybe don’t be too truthful…”

It turned out the, err, substance in that punch wasn’t anything too crazy or dangerous. Nothing that wouldn’t wear off soon. Captain Stacy let MJ off with a warning – and a lecture, as if MJ didn’t get enough of those in criminology. But the important thing was MJ’s record had dodged yet another black mark.

“Well… guess I shouldn’t leave Tiger waiting much longer.” MJ handed the phone back to Gwen, head drooping. “Funny how that worked out. I took you to that party to help you forget about him, and instead I ended up smacking him in your face.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen said dully. “Not like I won’t be seeing plenty of him once school starts back…” That seemed to jog her memory. “Oh yeah, MJ, we need to talk about Flash and his friends. They- They said some things about you that-”

“Flash?” MJ laughed. “What, don’t tell me he’s still fawning over me? Isn’t he back with Sha Shan now?”

There was silence. “Never mind. F-Forget I said anything…”

“Can do.” With that, Mary Jane strutted for the door. “Sweet dreams, girlfriend.”

“Yeah.” Gwen watched her go until she’d vanished behind the frame. “You, too.”

Not that tapping his foot on Gwen’s doorstep hadn’t been fun, but Peter was more than ready to get home. It’d occurred to him that he could’ve gotten there ages ago with his web-shooters, but then what kinda gentleman would he be?

“...never told Liz, no. So yeah, the whole Spider-Man thing might’ve been a contributing factor to that breakup, too.”

They’d been walking and talking for a while, but MJ came to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“What?” Peter turned back to her.

“I’m close enough,” MJ said. “My place is right around this next corner.”

“You sure? I really don’t mind walking you there-”

“Aww, look at you, getting all worried me.” Without warning, MJ pinched his cheek. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.” And with that, she strutted off. “Sweet dreams, Tiger.”

“Yeah.” Peter watched her go until she’d vanished behind the corner. “You, too.”

Mary Jane had never shut the front door so gently in her life. Slowly, carefully, she pushed the wood into place. Click.

“The hell’ve YOU been?” barked a voice from the TV room. “The hell’re you wearin’?”

“Oh, you’ll be happy to know I’ve found employment as a stripper.”

“I can’t even tell if that’s sarcasm anymore.”

“Well, if it wasn’t, at least SOMEONE would be bringing home a paycheck!” barked another, shriller voice from the opposite room.

“I told you, I’m gettin’ that advance soon as I finish the manuscript, which maybe I could do if I could ever THINK in this hou-”

The voices were momentarily masked by the thump of boots on stairs and the slam of a bedroom door. Mary Jane marched past old VHS tapes, a crusty-furred teddy bear, and countless articles of clothing far too expensive to be strewn about so sloppily, until she’d reached the foot of her bed. MJ wanted nothing more in this whole universe than to let herself plop down on it, but her phone was at ten percent power and her charger cord didn’t stretch that far.

MJ flopped over on the carpet, listening to the ringing by her ear. Eventually, it came to a stop, but no voice sounded.

“Hobie?” When it was clear a reply wasn’t forthcoming, MJ said, “I needed to talk to you again. I really screwed up tonight, and I don’t want to leave things so horrible between us. Can- Can we start over? Do you want to go on a date?” Still nothing. “Hobie? Is your arm okay?” Nada. “Come on, say something. Please. I know I don’t deserve you-”

“Do you have feelings for me?”

There was more silence. From both ends.

Mary Jane knew. Mary Jane knew Peter was Spider-Man. Mary Jane knew Peter was Spider-Man, and it was one in the morning by now, and Peter needed to go sleepy sleep.

Mary Jane knew. He couldn’t believe it. Mary Jane knew. Like, she knew knew. And she had all along. She’d seen him climb out his bedroom window in costume. The possibility of nosy neighbors had hardly ever occurred to Peter. How could he have been so stupid?

From now on, I’m gonna be more careful, Spider-Man thought as he climbed into his bedroom window in costume, tugging off his mask.

He was lying asleep above his covers within the minute.

The zoom lens gave her a real clear look at the kid’s face.

“Well, whattaya know?” The slender, dark, feline figure leaned back against the tile roof of the neighboring house. “That Venom guy was right.” See, the great thing about fireworks was that they made it hilariously easy to sneak around.

Alright, her work here was done. Black Cat returned her camera to her pouch and replaced it with her grappling hook, not that she’d have much use for it until she reached the bridge. But either way, she wasn’t eager to stick around.

“Poor Spider.” She shook her head. She hated dragging kids into her crazy life, but, well, he hadn’t given her much choice.

In the kid’s defense, though, this was far from the worst blackmail pic Black Cat had ever taken.

Chapter Text

Supervillains were a varied bunch. When it came to powers and gimmicks, you'd be hard pressed to find two with the same. Some supervillain MOs were, however, trendier than others. Right now, for instance, turning yourself into a genetically-altered half-animal monstrosity was the latest fad. There was an entire, newly-built wing of the Vault specially dedicated to housing these abominations against nature. The place looked more like an animal sanctuary than a maximum security prison. It had puma-men, snake-men, insect-men... They all seemed quite ferocious at first blush, but at the moment, most of the animal-people were simply curled up in their cells with bored looks on their faces. The Zoo, as the guards called it, was actually one of the more peaceful regions of the Vault.

Most of the time.

“Unhand me!” A writhing mass of orange fur lashed out at its captors, missing the face of one of the luckier guards by millimeters. The creature hissed as it struggled against its inhibitor collar. The thing looked like the result of someone taking a big, buff Russian guy and throwing him in a blender with a bunch of jungle cats – which was actually not far from the truth.

Kraven the Hunterbared his fangs at the guards. He'd been one of the few members of Spider-Man's rouges gallery to have completely avoided jail time up until now, makingthis ordeal doubly unpleasant for him. Right before lunch, a small army had opened up Kraven's cell and ushered him out into the middle of the gray, barren hallway.

Kraven fought valiantly, but after several more prods from the guards' shock sticks, he was forced to allow a man in a white coat to inject a serum of yellow fluid into his arm.

The instant the needle left his skin, an uneasy sensation rocked Kraven's entire body. He tried to roar in displeasure, but all that came out was a distressingly human cry of agony. When the tremors finally stopped and the room finished spinning, Kraven picked himself up off the floor, then froze. His eyes had caught sight of his small, pink, totally furless hands.

“I'm... I'm human again?” he stammered, hoarse. Slowly, he turned to the guards, eyes wide and wrathful. “What have you done to me?”

“Well, huh.” The doctor sounded just as surprised as Kraven. “Whattaya know? That gene cleanser Oscorp sold us actually worked for once.”

On pure impulse, Kraven tired to bare his fangs, but the only things he ended up baring were his molars. “Do you have any idea how much money you just cost me?”

The doctor smirked at him. “Next time you need a mad scientist to experiment on you, try investing in Vincent Stegron. We've been pumping gene cleansers into Stegron’s little vermin here for weeks, and he's feral as ever.”

He pointed behind them, and so Kraven turned his head to see another supervillain being dragged out of his cell – a ratlike creature with beady red eyes and messy brown fur. The beast screeched as it swatted a shock stick away.

Kraven snorted. “Inject me with whatever serums you like,” he said, his Russian accent growing even thicker. “You will not stop the hunt.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The doctor hardly spared a glance up from his clipboard. “Alright, boys, take him to observation.”

This time, they apparently thought it safe to ferry Kraven into the chamber with half the number of guards. He obediently marched out of the Zoo, but not before giving one last, lingering look back at the rat creature.

The beast was still struggling with all its might, and the shock sticks were having no effect. They were clearly hurting the creature, but... it didn't seem to care. There was simply too much animal and too little man remaining.

Reaching the Williamsburg Bridge had required a bit of a detour, but it was worth it for this view of the river. It was nice to ride an aboveground train every once in a while. It helped motivate Gwen to get out of the house, for one thing. She hadn’t the faintest clue what she’d do with herself once she reached Manhattan, but anything was better than wasting away in her room on her laptop for days on end. Yeah, Gwen’s life hadn’t been particularly eventful since last week’s little Fourth of July party.

Actually, though, there was another motive for leaving her house – It ensured Gwen was a safe distance from any eavesdropping fathers. She scooted closer to the glass beside her seat, took one last, calming look at the sunlit river, and then turned her attention to the bulky, salmon-colored purse in her lap, out of which she fished a matching, salmon-colored phone.

Deep breaths. She was almost seventeen. She wasn’t a child anymore. She could do this. It would be simple. It would be healthy for her, in fact. This was a good idea. A perfect idea. No harm in trying.

A trembling thumb tapped the screen, and then a trembling hand raised the cell to Gwen’s ear.

“Oh my god, Seymour, when the girl hangs up on you, that’s usually a sign that-”

“Um, MJ?”

“Oh, girlfriend! Whoops.” An apologetic laugh emanated from the phone’s speaker. “Sorry ’bout that. There was this guy. You know how it is.”

“Y-Yeah. Guys.” Gwen hadn’t gotten a call from a guy in weeks, and that last one had just tried to sell her steak knives.

“I’m glad you rang, actually. I could use a break from guys. Like, a permanent one.”

“Funny you should say that…” Gwen cleared her throat. She hoped her voice hadn’t gone too high there. “See, I was wondering if tomorrow you, uh, wanted to, um, go… out… with me?”

“Yeah, of course. You know I’m always down to hang with my gal pal.”

“I know, I know, but I didn’t say hang out. I said…” Let’s see if Gwen could get these next two words out before her heart rebelled against the rest of her chest. “...go out. Go out. With…”

“…you?”

The silence lasted eons. Gwen kept looking out the window, but no amount of calming views could help her now. She was beyond saving.

“I’m sorry, Mary Jane, I just made things super weird between us, didn’t I? Why do I always have to go out with my best friends? Heck, even Eddie ended up being my date to the formal if you wanna count that. But meeting new people freaks me out, so, like, what am I supposed to do, right? Oh, and you’re a girl, so that’s different, but- but you look great. I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you that, but-”

“Gwen-”

“-but I know it hasn’t even been that long since all that Prowler stuff with Hobie blew up in your face, so you probably don’t even want to- Ohhh, I shouldn’t have brought that up. I’m so sorry.”

“Gwen-”

“I’m sorry, I’m being a weirdo today.” Gwen had thought doing this over the phone would be easier, but it turned out not seeing MJ’s face made it a zillion times harder. “But it feels like we’ve gotten really close lately, and I could swear I was getting, y’know, vibes from you at the party in- in- in the laundry room. Remember that? You might not because of the punch.”

“Gwen-”

“Whaaaat am I saying? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can drop this. In fact, yeah, let’s drop this and things can go back to normal between us and we don’t have to talk about this ever ag-”

“Gwen.” Finally, MJ’s voice was sharp enough to cut her off. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Gwen jolted. The train had come to a sudden stop at the station. So had her pulse. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to go out with you.”

Gwen blinked. “You want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? With me? Out?”

“Yes…”

“You want to go out with me?”

“I want to go out with you.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Why are we talking like this?”

“Talking like what?”

“No one talks like this.”

“No one talks like this?”

“I’ll only go out with you if you stop talking like this.”

The phone nearly fell from Gwen’s hands. “Sorry!”

“Ah, relax, I’m teasing.”

Gwen had to remind herself to breathe before she turned blue. “So you’re really okay with…?”

“Yeah, you caught me off guard, that’s all.” Mary Jane paused. “I always thought you were straight.”

“So did I…”

“Must be something in the water.”

“I mean, I’m still into guys, though.” Gwen had even google-imaged Daniel Radcliffe again to make certain. “It’s just, well…”

“Hi, welcome to Camp Bi-Curious. I’m the guidance councilor.”

The two shared a laugh, though Gwen’s half of it was a bit flightier. “But I’m not just using you to- to experiment or anything. And I know I gave you grief about rebounds before, but I’ve been single a while now, so this isn’t really a-”

“We’re not getting married here,” said MJ. “This is me, remember? I hate attaching strings. Let’s just hit the town like we always do, and then we’ll see how we feel and figure it out from there. Baby steps.”

“Yeah. Yeah, baby steps.” Gwen could feel herself fusing to her seat like candy on a hot sidewalk. “Hey, MJ? Thanks for being so cool about this.”

“No prob.” Mary Jane sounded smooth as ever. How did she do that? “And thank you for saying all this to me. You’ve got more guts than you think. And I don’t want you to feel like there’s anything you could ever say to, y’know, ruin things between us.” She paused. “We’ve kept enough secrets from each other for one lifetime.”

“Yeah…” Gwen’s eyes returned to the window. The East River had been replaced by dull buildings, but it didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. “Wow. I was hyperventilating before I called you, but now this all seems so… normal.”

“Normal?” MJ’s smirk oozed out the receiver. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Well…” Gwen couldn’t help smiling, herself. “…being normal’s not the worst thing in the world.”

The conversation didn’t dip above the level of small talk after that, and so after a couple minutes, the two made their plans for tomorrow and said their goodbyes. Gwen looked up from her phone right in time to realize she’d missed her stop. Great. She’d been thinking of going to the library.

Would it be too desperate if Gwen called MJ back immediately? No, no, she’d be seeing plenty of Mary Jane tomorrow. She could find someone else to chat with. Not that she had a ton of options, of course. Gwen scrolled through her contacts list, frowning.

But then she hit a name that screeched her screen to a halt. An alliterative name. Gwen’s thumb hovered above it a moment… and then darted to the trash can icon at its side.

Now that he was small enough to fit inside one, Kraven had been given a standard, orange prison jumpsuit. The color scheme suited him. And, at the very least, now that Kraven was away from the constant growls and howls of the Zoo, he could meditate on the observation room’s mattress in silence.

At least, he could until the sound of jungle drums filled the air.

“Calypso,” Kraven said without opening his eyes.

He didn’t need to open them to know that the dark-skinned beauty was peering down at him from behind the hood of her white fur robes.

“Is this how you'll be spending the rest of your days, Sergei?” Her voice, usually so warm, had gone frigid. “Locked in a cage like the mindless beasts you're so proud of hunting?”

“Calypso, my love!” Kraven hurried to his feet. “I plan to escape, of course, but it will take time and patience. I must study my environment, wait for an opening-”

“The man I fell for was never this boring. I'd hoped this Spider-Man would be a mere warmup before you hunted the real superhumans, but instead, I seemed to have learned the upper limits of your prowess.”

“Upper limits?” spat Kraven. “Kraven the Hunter has no such things! I assure you, Calypso, the Spider-Man's victories thus far have been mere flukes.”

“Mmm, perhaps. But I’m afraid it no longer concerns me.” Calypso turned away, growing less and less opaque as she walked.

“But Calypso-”

“Calypso, my sweet!” Now instead of jungle drums, a deep voice filled the air, as if coming from afar. “Return to bed so we can resume making passionate love till sunrise.”

“Coming, Ka-Zar…” Calypso vanished without another word.

Kraven stood alone. His nails dug into his palm. Upon further reflection, it turned out time and patience weren’t as necessary as he’d thought.

A pair of guards stared, slack-jawed, at the camera feed.

“Was... Was that a teleporting voodoo chick?” The thinner guard traded glances with his less thin coworker. “Should we… call Doctor Strange?”

“Screw it.” The other guard sprang out his seat. “I'm gonna go get some donuts. They don't pay me enough to deal with friggin' magic...”

She wished she could believe him? What did that mean? She was the one who was supposed to have been madly in love with him since seventh grade, and now suddenly his word wasn’t good enough for her? How was Peter expected to “prove” he didn’t have a death wish?

His worries must’ve shown through on his face because suddenly, Aunt May was frowning at him. “Peter, dear?”

“Nngh?” With a great effort, Peter managed to lift his head from his napkin.

“I understand what happened with Gwen was upsetting, but all this moping isn’t healthy for you.” May’s eyes traveled across the kitchen table to the napkin’s cheek-shaped indent.

“I know, I know…” said Peter, stirring his scrambled eggs with his fork.

“Do you want to invite a friend over?” May leaned forward to tousle his hair. “I’d love to see Mary Jane again.”

“Ugh…” Despite his best efforts, Peter’s head returned to the napkin. Yeah, Aunt May would love to see Mary Jane… on Peter’s arm. “I don’t even want to look at another girl right now.”

May’s frown returned. “I’m sorry. I know moving on can be hard, but it’s something almost everyone faces at some point or another.” She brought a hand to her glasses. “Even I’ve been looking for a boyfriend lately…”

Peter’s head rocketed upright. “You have?” Then he hurriedly peeled the napkin free of his cheek.

The first thing the Ryker’s guards had tried to do was peel Chameleon’s white, leather, full-head mask free of his cheeks, but it hadn’t come off. It didn’t come off. And so Chameleon had ended up wearing it above his orange prison jumpsuit. It was a fact that amused him.

But not as much as the amusement of today’s lunchtime, during which the guards had opened up Sergei’s cell to usher him into the cafeteria. Now that Sergei’s mutation had been undone, the higher-ups had evidently felt it safe to escort him with half the number of guards.

Like Chameleon said. Amusing.

“Agh!” As soon as the last guard fell to the floor, Chameleon stood back a safe distance so Sergei could aim a stolen laser-rifle at his door.

Foom. After the smoke cleared, the lock was in considerably more pieces than it’d been a minute ago.

“Much obliged, brother.” Chameleon strolled out, hands folded behind his back. “I underestimated you. Looks like you are capable of escaping this place.”

“When properly motivated,” Sergei said stiffly. “This prison is nothing to me. I have survived nights in the deepest, uncharted regions of the Congo with only-”

“-with only your bare hands for aid. Yes, yes, you’re very talented. Now let’s not delay-”

“We’re not leaving yet, Dmitri.” Sergei turned for the hallway. “There is one more I wish to free.”

“Oh?” Chameleon knelt to retrieve a rifle of his own from a fallen guard. “And here I thought you’d learned your lesson about hunting in packs?”

“I don’t require a pack,” said Sergei. “Only a hunting dog.”

It was incredible how much could change in a year. Last summer, Peter had swung around Manhattan without a care in the world, earnestly believing being Spider-Man was the best thing ever. And now here he was a year later, hiding out on a flagpole beneath a little underhanging to escape the downpour, moping and angsting to himself about how his double life hurt all his loved ones.

Spider-Man shivered. He knew he should’ve worn his thermals today…

“I can’t get over it.” He had to huddle right up against the building’s back wall to keep from getting his phone soaking wet. “You know how bad I want her to be happy, but every time I picture Aunt May with a boyfriend, I break out in hives.”

“Don’t you think it’s good for people to move on, though?” Odd, Mary Jane’s voice was lacking its usual foxiness. She was almost unrecognizable without it. “You’ve gotta learn to deal with it, and not just from your aunt. I mean, y-you never know, Pete, you could walk into class after summer break to find Gwen holding hands with someone else…”

“Don’t even start. My skin’s crawling enough as it is, thanks.” Peter brought a hand to his forehead. “Well, at least she couldn’t possibly pick someone worse than Harry.”

“Yeah.” MJ’s laugh seemed more tepid than usual, too. “Guess she’s got a thing for redheads.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that last part-”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“I coulda sworn I heard you say- say- ay- ah- achoo.” A moment passed. “Okay, eww.” Instantly, Peter’s mask was off his face.

“What?”

“Snotty mask. Ugh, that’s the worst.” Peter promptly flipped it inside-out so he rinse it off in the rain. “Bet Iron Man’s got some fancy filtration system on his…”

“Tiger.” Ah, there was the old MJ. “Have you been in costume this whole time?”

“Whuh?” Peter blinked. “Oh yeah, I was trying to get some swinging in before the rain hit.”

“You realize you’re taking me with you one of these days? Non-negotiable.”

“MJ.” To his great shock, Peter found himself laughing. “Hey, though, you wanna know something? This is really cool. You knowing my secret, I mean. It feels like, I don’t know, like it broke the ice between us. I don’t think I’d have opened up to you before about my aunt wanting to date and stuff.”

“Ah, it’s nothing, Tiger. And look, you really don’t have to worry about your aunt. In fact, if you do get a stepdad… I’ll kinda envy you.”

The remark generated some silence.

“MJ…” Peter took a breath, and then- “Whoop!” -he almost cracked his skull on the pavement below.

“Pete?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Flagpole’s just slick.” That hadn’t done Peter’s heart rate any favors – His grip on the pole had returned at the last possible second. Now he was hanging on upside down.

“Be more careful! You know what almost happened to Hobie!”

That remark generated even more silence.

“Truth is… my life kinda flashed before my eyes there.” Peter took another, deeper breath. “Mary Jane, what if, on some subconscious level…” His lids shut of their own accord. “…Gwen’s right about me? What if I’m only doing this whole Spider-Man thing because… because…?”

Even more silence.

“Peter…”

But whatever Mary Jane said next was drowned out by an earsplitting shriek.

“What the-? Call you back!” Not a second later, Peter’s phone was back in his utility belt and his mask was back on his head. Spider-Man swung down to steet-level to find a hysterical woman standing beside an empty stroller. It was hard to tell how much of her face was wet from the rain versus her tears. “What's wrong?”

“My baby. It took my baby.” The woman was, apparently, beside herself with shock. All she could manage was to point feebly to the opened manhole cover in the road. “It was a- a monster.”

“Call the cops!” Without a moment's hesitation, Spider-Man dived into the sewers.

Peter could debate the motivations behind his heroics until he was blue in the face, and it wouldn't change the fact that there were babies to be rescued.

The woman lingered at the edge of the manhole. But as soon as the sound of Spider-Man’s splashes became inaudible… the woman’s face was yanked off to reveal the stark, white, featureless one beneath.

Chameleon pressed a finger to the side of his white mask, turning on its built-in radio. “He took the bait.”

Oh, man, this wasn't good. Spider-Man could make out a shadowy, humanoid shape sprinting away from him as he bolted through the sewers (which, incidentally, meant that the residual mucus in his mask was now the least of his sanitation problems), but he couldn't hear the sound of crying. Peter knew how babies worked – He'd played Yoshi's Island. The poor thing ought to be screaming its head off right about now. And it wasn't, which could only mean...

Spider-Man rounded the corner, trying not to retch at the fresh wave of stench that hit his nose. The sewer tunnel led out into a much larger opening, almost as big as his living room back home. Spidey wasn't sure why the sewers needed to be so huge, exactly, but he wasn't complaining.

Spidey spun his head around, heart thumping in his chest. It looked like the other sewage tunnels were too narrow for any “monster” to fit through, so that meant the thing had to be...

“Raaaagh!”

-right behind him.

Thanks to the wonders of spider-sense, Spider-Man ducked the claw swipe, then spun to get a look at his attacker. “Holy-!” Really, it wasn't too surprising, as far as monsters went. Let's describe it with an analogy: Lizards are to the Lizard as rats are to, uh, this guy. That is to say, it was a giant humanoid rat creature. The creature tried to sink its oversized front teeth into Spidey's juicy shoulder, but he managed to kick it in the stomach, sending the thing flying into the far wall.

“So if I destroy you by battle, do you get to Special Summon an earth monster with fifteen hundred or less attack from your deck?”

The rat made another lunge. Man, that thing had recovered fast. Spider-Man hadn't even been pulling his punches. The next thing he knew, Spidey was pinned down in the filthy water, letting his spandex get ripped to shreds by the rat's knife-sized claws. In another few seconds, Spidey would be missing some chunks, and to make matters worse, he was running dangerously low on rat-related pop culture references.

“Uh... Uh... Are you sure kids will like the new Chuck E. Cheese design-?” Spidey didn't even bother finishing that one. Instead, he focused on firing his web-shooters as hard as he could. The webs went straight up the rat's nostrils, causing it to stumble back, screeching its head off. Spider-Man had actually been aiming for its eyes, but he'd take it.

He pulled himself back to his feet, though he was a bit wobbly. Okay, okay, he could do this. Spidey just had to punch this thing until it fell unconscious, then haul it back up to the surface for the police to deal with. Simple.

Or at least, simple until something crawled over Spider-Man's foot.

“Oh Jesus-!” It was another rat – a normal-sized one – and now there was another one on his leg. And two on his arm. They were scurrying out of the pipes, out of cracks in the wall... Pretty soon, the whole sewer was covered in muddy brown fur. Spider-Man wondered dimly when he’d last had his tetanus shot.

But the next second, he was a bit too preoccupied with the mind-numbing pain of a hundred rat bites. Hoo boy. And he'd thought that spider bite had hurt.

“Swear to god, if one of you gives me rat powers- Ow!” Alright, time to let you in on a little secret. The truth was, the reason Spider-Man cracked so many jokes in the heat of battle wasn't because he was cocky – It was because he was absolutely friggin' terrified, and when Spidey got scared, he impulsively told jokes. It was a stress thing.

So whenever Spider-Man stopped telling jokes, well... that basically meant his brain had reached a whole new level of sheer, foam-mouthed terror.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaagh oh god oh god they're crawling all over meeeeeeeeeee-” What was even happening right now? Where’d all these rats come from? Had that big rat summoned them somehow?

Now Spider-Man was feeling... whoozy. Maybe he just needed a little... a little nap time. He fell to his knees in the sewage, the largest rat looming over him while the smaller ones pinned him down. Really, when you thought about it, this wasn't the worst way to go. He'd only been trying to save some poor woman's baby. Even... Even the Daily Bugle had to realize he was a hero now.

Slowly, Peter's eyes started to close... but before they could, a big, buff man pounced from the shadows, tackling the rat-creature with his massive biceps. The Manhattan sewer system wasn't exactly well-lit, but Spider-Man thought he could make out the man's clothing. Something about it seemed... familiar.

A moment later, the rat-creature let out a gag and plopped to the ground, unconscious. Apparently, the mystery man had put it in a choke hold.

“Were you watching, my darling Calypso?” Okay, that Russian accent definitely rung a bell. “I defeated it. I, without any powers, bested the beast that the Spider-Man could not!”

He was right. He'd totally one-upped the Web-Head. Spider-Man would've been amazed if he wasn't half-delerious.

The last thing Spidey managed to say was, “Are you the... Pied Piper?” And then the whole world grew black.

Was black Gwen’s color? She held the dress to her chest. Hmm… No, it wasn’t. Gwen tossed it onto her bed’s “nope” pile, though it was a bit tricky to pull off, seeing as that pile almost touched the ceiling.

“Going somewhere?” said a voice from behind.

“Oh, Dad-!” Gwen spun around to find him standing in her bedroom doorway, arms folded. “You’re back early.”

“I’ll be heading out again in a minute.”

“Well, to answer your question, I’m just going into the city tomorrow with- with a friend.”

“Just a friend?” Her dad’s eyes flitted to the “nope” pile. Typical. Once in his life, could he not play the detective?

Gwen thought he might press the issue, but instead, her dad simply turned to leave. Right before he left, though, he paused. “Gwen, listen.” There was an intake of breath. “Losing your mother hurt me. It still does. But the time I spent with her… I wouldn’t trade that. Not for anything.”

After that, there was silence. By the time Gwen mustered the courage to turn her head to the doorway, he was already gone.

“Ugh... Aunt May?” Peter's whole body felt like one big paper cut. He tried to roll over under the covers, only to realize with a pang that there were no covers. Or pillows. Or even a mattress. Peter tried to spring upright, but his body didn't listen. It was like every muscle below the neck had gone dead.

He at least managed to wrench his eyes open. “What the-?” There was rain hitting his face, and- and shadow-painted stones poking out of overgrown grass. He tried to work out where he was, but Peter's brain wasn't braining so good right now.

Wait. If the rain was hitting his face... Peter's eyes traveled downwards to discover his bare neck at the edge of the red spandex. “No.”

His eyes shot back up. Standing in front of the nearest stone was a huge, musclebound man, topless save for his trademark lion-face vest. Peter almost didn't recognize him without any fur or whiskers, but it there was no mistaking Kraven the Hunter. Now Peter was seriously confused. Last he'd checked, Kraven hadn't been one of the Ryker's escapees, and he'd, y'know, turned himself into every furry's wet dream.

But that wasn't what concerned Peter the most. No, that'd be the Spider-Man mask clutched firmly in Kraven's big, sweaty hand.

“So, little boy,” Kraven said softy, “you finally awaken.”

There was something about Kraven's eyes. Something different. Peter had seen those eyes before... in Harry's dad. And in Cletus Kasady.

Kraven chuckled to himself. “Yes, Spider-Man, I've learned the truth. All this time, I have been bested by an adolescent. But I do not feel cheated. No, you were a worthy opponent.” It was hard to make out in this rainstorm, but there seemed to be something in Kraven's other hand, too. Something like... a shovel. “And though you may have been nothing but a naïve child playing the hero, you can take solace in the knowledge that you've served a higher purpose. You've shown me the power of the Spider.”

He laughed again, louder this time, and then slipped the mask over his own face. “Fear not, child. I will continue your work. I have proven myself the worthiest man for the task.”

“I...” Peter struggled to make his tongue work. “...hope you washed that thing first.” He tried to move his arms, but it was no good. Looked like Kraven had wrapped Peter up in chains and tossed him in some kinda big, wooden box.

Kraven crouched down, meeting Peter's small, trembling brown eyes with the mask’s big, steady white ones. “Struggle all you like, child. Normally, you might be able to break those chains... but not when I've filled you with enough tranquilizer to stop on elephant.” He glanced away. “I prefer not to rely on such tricks, of course, but in your case, I believe it's warranted.”

Hold on a tick. Peter's brain had finally realized where he was. An open, grassy field? A bunch of rocks sticking out of the ground? A big, wodden box? A shovel in Kraven's hand?

“My Calypso would’ve wanted you alive for this part. Would’ve wanted you to understand the true extent of your failure.”

Right before the coffin was shut, there was a flash of lightning, and Peter managed to make out the big rock jutting out behind Kraven. Carved into the stone's face were the words:

HERE LIES SPIDER-MAN, SLAIN BY THE HUNTER.

Chapter Text

Warm. White. Peaceful.

It felt good. Lying there, unmoving. It was like sleeping in on Saturday morning, only without the sunlight creeping through the curtains or the little blinking light on your phone charger or your aunt making a racket downstairs-

Aunt.

Aunt? What aunt? There was no aunt. The only things that existed in the whole wide world were his muscles, which were so very tired, and that amazing feeling that surged through them when he let them go completely limp. Man, what a great world to live in. A world where he was winning at life just by lying there asleep. Good job, Peter, you did great.

Except... Except he wasn't alive.

Peter.

Peter? Who was that? He'd never heard of any Peter! Peter was nobody. Nothing was real except for a tiny little half-awake consciousness floating in a warm, white void. It was okay. Peter Parker was gone. He'd died saving a baby from a rat monster. It was super heroic. There was no doubt at all anymore that... he was a hero. All he had to do now was lie here, feeling his shallow breaths growing hotter and hotter until they were broiling. It was finished.

No more power meant no more responsibility.

“Whoops. Butterfingers.” The goblin was laughing and the parade floats were swirling around her and Peter was shrieking and a line of webbing was erupting from his wrist and-

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

-and then Gwen was sitting up in her bedcovers, wiping sweat from her forehead and trying desperately to catch her breath. For one disorienting second, she thought she heard the sound of her own screaming ringing in her ears, but then she realized what it really was – an alarm.

Gwen flung herself out of her covers and dropped to her knees before the pile of junk by her bed. She couldn't help but feel like an idiot as her hands fumbled through the pitch-blackness. This room’s layout was still a bit unfamiliar to her. Even after the wall of her old bedroom had been repaired, Gwen had been forced to move out thanks to the bad memories it held. Honestly, so much as being in the same house as that room made Gwen feel unsafe.

After a minute of searching, Gwen finally retrieved the source of the beeping – a handheld GPS. The blue spider-tracer.

Gwen pressed a button, replacing the noise of the device with the far more pleasant pattering of rain outside, and then squinted at the screen. Yes, she wasn't wearing her glasses, and yes, her eyes hadn't adjusted yet, but after years of checking her phone in the middle of the night, Gwen was a master at the art. It looked like Peter was somewhere at the edge of Manhattan, not too far from Queens. What could he be up to?

On impulse, Gwen shut her eyes, and like clockwork, the image of a cackling goblin flashed before them. Calm down, calm down. She was sure Peter was fine. He was probably just on a stakeout or something, and he'd forgotten to turn the tracer off. Yeah. That was it.

Gwen groped her way to the far wall, where she retrieved her phone from the charger. The number she needed wasn’t in her contacts list anymore, but, err… she kinda knew it by heart.

You okay? read Gwen’s hastily-typed message. That GPS alarm we made went off. Her phone proclaimed that the message had been sent successfully, and so Gwen waited, staring expectantly at the screen.

Okay, it'd been thirty seconds and there was no response. He was definitely dead.

Calm down. Gwen forced herself to breathe. She was letting her fears get out of control. Peter knew how to take care of himself. He'd battled dozens of supervillains before. Why would tonight be any different?

But Gwen knew the answer before the question had even finished forming in her head. Because he's upset and exhausted and you broke up with him and he wants to die.

In seconds, Gwen had sent another, identical text. No response. She tried to call him. It went to voice mail. “Peter? Peter, you're not answering. Are you okay? Oh god.” Gwen was such an idiot. Peter was probably laughing at her right this second. “I'm gonna get my dad. If we can't find you, we're gonna tell your aunt. We're gonna tell her everything. But- But it won't come to that. You'll be okay. You're alive.” She hung up, then forced herself to take a deep breath. She was overreacting. He was fine.

Gwen got the answering machine three more times in a row.

Five minutes. She'd give him five minutes to text back. Gwen took another breath. Five minutes.

Four minutes later, Gwen was charging into her father's bedroom, screaming, “Dad! Dad!”

The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out.

“Hee hee hee...” Despite his protesting muscles, he managed a faint giggle. That song was funny. Ha ha. Funny song. He wondered why he was thinking of that particular song right now, though.

Phone.

Phone? Oh, of course! That song wasn't just in his head. He'd made Itsy-Bisty Spider his ringtone. It'd seemed really clever at the time.

Suddenly, he was overcome with an irresistible urge. Every teenager-ey instinct in his body was begging him to answer his phone. What if work was calling?

The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and-

It was ringing again. He had to answer it! Had to-

No. Don't wanna. A groan escaped his lips. He was tired. And so what if work was calling? He wasn't gonna answer that. He was finished. Done. He wasn't going to work ever again.

“Peter?”

For the briefest of seconds, Peter's eyelids twitched, but they proved far too heavy to open. That voice. He knew that voice. It was... impossible. It was...

“Peter, you're not answering. Are you okay? Oh god.” It was muffled by his utility belt’s pouch and intercut with labored breathing, but there was no mistaking it – Gwen was leaving him a voicemail. “I'm gonna get my dad. If we can't find you, we're gonna tell your aunt. We're gonna tell her everything. But- But it won't come to that. You'll be okay. You're alive.” That last sentence was barely a whisper.

A jolt rocked Peter's body – a jolt every bit as strong as the one he'd felt that fateful night in the warehouse, when he'd laid eyes on Walter Hardy. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be- Peter's hand twitched. All at once, it came back to him. Kraven. The tranquilizers. Getting buried alive.

What had a second ago felt like a warm bed now felt distressingly more like a dark, cramped coffin. Peter slammed the lid as hard as he could. Normally, with his super spider strength, busting out would be a breeze, but at the moment, Peter could barely lift his elbows, let alone the rest of his arms.

“Aaaaaaaaaaagh-!”

His lungs were working just fine, though.

A police car rolled up to a pitch-black cemetery. Gwen hopped out before it'd even come to a stop, then sprinted across the mud without so much as a jacket to protect herself from the torrent of rain.

“Gwen, wait-” Her dad sprinted after her, though he, at least, had taken the time to throw on a raincoat. By the time he was halfway across the street, Gwen had already hopped the cemetery's fence.

“Peter? Peter?”

Her phone's flashlight scanned the perimeter, then came to a halt on the grave with the freshly-planted soil. Gwen's eyes fell on the tombstone: HERE LIES SPIDER-MAN, SLAIN BY THE HUNTER. She only pondered the absurdity of it for a moment (Seriously, what kind of bad guy took the time to engrave an epitaph?), then threw herself, hands and knees, into the dirt.

“Peter! Peter! No, no, please, god-” She was hardly even aware of what she was doing as she clawed her way through the mud. This wasn't happening. Couldn't be happening. Was this how Peter had felt about- about his uncle? If Gwen had just stayed with Peter… But no, she’d had to be a stupid little spineless baby like always, and now everything was ruined. Now everything was... was...

“Gwen, what are you-? Lord.” Her dad arrived right in time to watch her fingernails hit wood.

Gwen halted the dig. The grave had been shallower than she'd thought. Good, good. But now she hesitated. If she opened that coffin... what would she find inside?

But as it turned out, Gwen's question would be answered for her. With a sudden wham, the lid of the coffin cracked open. Gwen had to shield her eyes to keep out the shrapnel, but when she reopened them... there he was.

His mask was missing, and the rest of his costume had been torn to shreds, but he was there. Sweaty and panting and beautiful and alive.

Peter half-leaned, half-fainted into her shoulder, then muttered a ragged, “G-Gwen... How...? Am I seein' things?”

Somehow, Gwen found herself smiling. She wiped her eyes, held her boyfriend close, and whispered, “I believe you, Peter. I believe you now.”

There was no way a McDonald's burger could possibly taste this good. It wasn't natural. Of course, after spending god knew how many hours in the ground, Peter wouldn't turn his nose up at a burger foraged straight from a dumpster. He didn't care. All that mattered was that he was safe and warm in the back of Captain Stacy's car with a nice, soft shock blanket around his shoulders and Gwen's rainsoaked hair resting against the crook of his neck.

Come to think of it, Peter hadn't even stopped to change out of his Spider-Man costume, so hopefully the bored-looking teenager at the drive-through window hadn't glanced at the passenger seat.

“How are you feeling?” Gwen's dad gave Peter a look through the rearview mirror.

“Pretty good, all things considered,” Peter said through a mouthful of fries. “I'm, y'know, superhuman, so I bounce back from stuff like this pretty easy. I've had worse.”

Gwen's dad looked distinctly unconvinced. “You need a doctor. I can't even begin to guess what kind of drugs Kravinoff put in you... not to mention your entire body’s covered in rat bites.”

But at this, Peter drew back in his seat. “I'm not sure I could make it through a whole checkup without blowing my secret ID.”

Gwen’s dad kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead. “I know a guy who won’t ask too many questions.”

“Great,” said Peter, “but Kraven took my mask. I’m not going in without a mask.”

Peter sat on the couch of the middle of a pleasant, old person apartment somewhere in NoHo. He grumbled, fiddling with the brown paper McDonald’s bag on his head, into which eye and mouth holes had been crudely torn. In the far corner of the room, Gwen was making a futile effort to stifle her giggles.

“Hrmph,” said Peter.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Spider-Man.” Just then, Peter was approached by the old guy who played against himself in chess in that one Pixar short. The guy had just finished having a little talk with Gwen’s dad, and so now he extended a hand Peter’s way. “Leo Zelinsky.”

Peter accepted. “Thanks for helping me out, sir.”

“After you saved my grandson from muggers last summer? My pleasure.” Leo gave his warmest, wrinkliest old-person-smile, though the lopsided beanie and oversized glasses added a bit of a quirky vibe to the gesture. “Now let’s get some antibiotics in you.”

“Yeah, I, err, might be in need of those.” After a moment’s hesitation, Peter admitted, “I’ve kinda been avoiding doctor’s visits since I got my powers.”

“Well, I’m not quite a doctor,” said Leo, “but I practiced medicine in a past life, so I’ve got plenty of medical supplies handy. But what I really am right now is a therapist.”

“Oh.” Behind his fancy new mask, Peter’s eyes traveled to Gwen and her dad, whose own eyes were looking away from him in opposite directions.

To be clear, Peter’s stance on accepting charity hadn’t softened in the slightest. Buuuuuuut as it turned out, Leo’s sessions were free to superheroes, and Peter had no qualms whatsoever about accepting free stuff.

“I'm still seeing Carnage every time I close my eyes.” Spider-Man rolled over on the cushion. “It's one of those – What do you call it? – flashbulb memories. I'm even having them when I'm awake now.” Man, lying on a couch in costume felt wrong. Spidey had to fight back the urge to crawl up the wall just to feel more normal.

Leo's office was great and all – dimly lit, motivational posters on the wall, a box of tissues and a little portable fountain on the desk, very tranquil – but Spider-Man had a hard time feeling at ease unless he was miles above the honks of rush hour traffic, breathing in smog. Yeah, this city did things to people.

“Well, that's understandable,” Leo said in his enthused-yet-cigarette-addled voice. “It's not every day a space alien tries to kill you. You have every right to be upset about it.” He leaned over in his chair to jot something down in his notepad.

“No, but, the thing is, I'm not just upset. I...” Spidey's head drooped. “I could've stopped it.”

“Spider-Man...” Leo looked up from his pad to meet the whites of Spidey's mask. “It's not my job to tell you how to feel, but I think you should at least explore the possibility that you're suffering from a misplaced sense of guilt.”

“It's not misplaced!” snapped Spidey. “If I'd returned the symbiote sooner, it would never have bonded to Eddie, and I'd have never had to feed it the gene cleanser that made Carnage!”

“Well,” said Leo, straightening his square glasses, “I don't pretend to be an expert on alien biology, but from what you've told me, it sounds like the symbiote got in your head. Can you really blame yourself for being brainwashed by an alien?”

“It doesn't matter,” said Spider-Man. “The symbiote made them worse, but they were still my thoughts. My actions. My responsibility.”

“Now, hold on a second,” said Leo. “I didn't say if you were responsible or not. I said you felt guilty.”

Spidey cocked his head. “What's the difference?”

“Responsible is what you are. Guilty is how you feel.” Leo set his pen and paper on his desk, turning his full attention to his patient. “Right now, our world's being subjected to things we can barely comprehend – mad science experiments, aliens, whatever they are – and I don't think wrinkled old men and scared little boys ought to be expected to have all the perfect responses to that.”

A while later, Peter found himself resting on the mattress in Leo’s spare room while Gwen sat in a chair nearby. With his costume torn to shreds, Peter had been allowed to borrow some sweatpants and an oversized turtleneck.

Gradually, Peter and Gwen found their eyes meeting. They seemed to have wordlessly agreed to resume dating, seeing as they'd kissed each other about a bajillion more times by now. Peter hoped he hadn’t gotten any soil in her mouth…

After a while, Gwen broke the silence. “Peter... I'm sorry for what I said. I let my anxiety get the best of me, and I gave you a hard time over nothing-”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Peter bowed his head. “Truth is, after what happened with Carnage, I lost my nerve. I've been reckless and- and sloppy lately, and you had every right to be worried about me. I don't want to ever do that to you again. You were right, Gwen, I should’ve been seeing a therapist all along. You saved my life and my mental health.” His cheeks grew a shade redder. “I love you.”

Gwen’s weren’t untouched, either. “I love you, too.”

Their lips crept closer… and then Gwen's dad walked through the door, and suddenly those lips were on opposite sides of the room.

“I just got off the phone with your aunt,” he said. “I told her you snuck over to our house and spent the last few hours having a big emotional reunion with Gwen, and now I’m letting you stay the night in our guest room. May’s not particularly happy you missed curfew, but she believed it.”

“Well...” Peter shifted in place. “...it's better than telling her the truth.”

Gwen's dad folded his arms. “Peter, you almost died tonight. Don't you think she has the right to know?”

At this, Peter's eyes met his bedsheets. His only reply was a feeble, “Yeah, but… her heart…”

“May’s stronger than you give her credit for.” Gwen's dad rubbed his temple. “Peter, listen, I know you'll bounce back from what Kravenoff did to you, but I'm not so sure you need to get back into costume anytime soon.”

Peter's eyes snapped back to his. “Look, I know I promised I'd take a vacation for a while, but that was before that mass breakout from the Vault-”

“I told you, I only approved of your heroism because you did things the police couldn't.” Something about this guy's glare unnerved Peter. Now he knew where Gwen got it from. “Yes, you put away supervillains, but you haven't kept them away.” Gwen's dad let out a sigh. “Between this and the incident at the hospital, it's clear the Sinister Six won't rest until you're back in the ground. With Kravenoff and Toomes still at large, the smartest thing you can do right now is lay low.”

Peter sprang up in his bed. “But Kraven saw my face! Even he's smart enough to connect the dots and figure out who I am. I can't just sit around on my butt while he's running free.”

Gwen’s dad wasn’t having it. “If the NYPD’s metahuman response team can handle the Sinister Six, they can handle Kraven, too.”

“But-”

“He's got a point, Peter,” spoke up Gwen. “You were off your game even before Kraven buried you. You need to rest.”

“I- Well… alright.” Reluctantly, Peter crawled back under the covers. “I can hang up the tights for a while. But I'm not telling Aunt May the truth yet. That-” He faltered. “That can wait.” But then he regained his vigor, turning back towards Gwen's dad. “But you've gotta promise me you'll do everything you can to stop Black Cat and her father.”

Gwen's dad nodded. “I promise.” Then he sighed again and turned to stare out the window. “I just hope my men can take care of Kravenoff soon. Something about the way you described him made him seem... different. Desperate. I've seen that before in criminals.” His eyes narrowed. “Right before they lost their minds”

Spyder! Spyder! Burning bright.

It had been here. Kraven had seen them. The memory pounded in his head like jungle drums. The spiders.

Kraven dropped down through the skylight into the laboratory below. The scientist with the mustache was absent, seeing as it was the dead of night, but other than that, the room appeared unchanged in the months since Kraven had last come here. Before, he had asked for the power of the jungle cats. Ha. He'd been so naïve. All along, the real power had been staring Kraven in the face.

In the forests of the night.

Silent as a lion in the grass, Kraven crept his way to the glass terrariums lining the wall. With a swift motion, he sent his fist through the glass, shattering it instantly. The spider within was startled, but not as startled as when Kraven reached in to grab it. It was a beautiful creature – deep blue with red makings and nearly as big as Kraven's fist. The arachnid impulsively bit Kraven's hand, but he hardly noticed. To Kraven the Hunter, it was little more than a gnat sting.

But then, he wasn't Kraven the Hunter anymore. Gently, Kraven rolled back his mask, then lifted the struggling creature to his mouth. He was the Spider.

What immortal hand or eye.

Crunch. Kraven chewed noisily. It was working. He could feel it working already. Just as the ancient tribes of Africa consumed the flesh of their enemies to gain their powers, so too would Kraven gain the power of the Spider.

Crash. Shards of glass were again sent flying as Kraven retrieved his next meal, and then his next, and then his next...

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

A commandeered taxi cab sped down the streets of Manhattan, followed closely by an entire squadron of shrieking police cars. The ragged, unshaven man in the taxi's passenger seat glanced out the back window. The sweat on his forehead was accumulating at an alarming rate.

“Remind me why we're doing this again, Henry.” The man gestured to the suspiciously large number of Hammer Tech plasma rifles resting by his feet. “Tell me it's not to impress Silver Sable again.”

“What?” Henry laughed as he slammed on the gas pedal. “Of course not. We're lucky we managed to escape Ryker's in all the confusion. No, Marty, I've finally realized that my obsession with Sable was crazy and stupid, and there's no point risking my neck to impress her anymore.”

This seemed to ease Martin's conscience. “Well, I'm glad you-”

“I'm risking my neck to impress Black Cat!”

Martin buried his face in his hands.

“With these guns, she'll have enough fire power to storm Ryker's and free her d-”

“She already freed him.”

“Oh.” Henry's luster promptly vanished. “Well, uh, Black Cat could still need all these guns. What if one day, I don't know, Spider-Man suddenly turns evil and punches her, and then Black Cat gets all mad and decides to become a crime lord?”

Martin gave him a long, hard stare. “Henry, that is the single dumbest thing I have ever-”

Wham. Apparently, when coming up with this plan, Henry had failed to consider the fact that in New York City, the statistical probability of a big, musclebound superhuman landing on the hood of your car was a bit higher than in all the surrounding cities.

“Holy $#%#!” The next thing they knew, Henry and Martin found their car suspended off the ground as they screamed their lungs out. Their assailant was wearing a Spider-Man mask, but other than that he didn't share the Web-Head's fashion sense. Spider-Man wasn't known for his shirtlessness or his animal fur vest.

With a disheartening crunch, the crooks were flung to the pavement, tumbling down the street like a pair of ragdolls before finally coming to a rest by an overturned street lamp. “Ugh...” Henry managed to lift his head long enough to see a crazed jungle man heaving the remains of their stolen taxi over his head.

“Where is she?” the man snarled. “I bested the Spider. I became the Spider. I can do whatever the Spider can! So why has my beloved not returned to me?”

After that, the world grew dark. Though it brought Henry the slightest bit of comfort to know that at least the supervillains didn't have great dating lives, either.

He couldn't move. It was dark and he couldn't move. There was barely any light seeping through the cracks in the coffin, and yet he could see it clear as day. The red. Oozing its way inside. His blood-? No. Not blood. It was... growing a face. A grinning mouth with endless teeth, and those pure white, misshapen eyes.

“Time to draw your blood,” Carnage whispered.

“Gah!” Peter's eyes burst open, and he sat up, dazed. It took him a second to remember where he was – Leo’s guest room.

“Time to draw your blood,” said a voice.

“What the-?” Peter came uncomfortably close to punching Leo’s head clean off.

“Whoa, there, Bag-Boy, I just need to check your blood work for signs of infection.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter hurriedly readjusted the bag on his head (He’d slept with it on, which might explain why all he could smell right now was French fries), then allowed the guy to stick his arm without protest. He took it on the superhero code of honor that Leo wasn't gonna use Peter's blood for the purposes of mad science.

While he waited, Peter fixed his eyes on the chair by his bedside – He was fine with getting his blood drawn, but that didn't mean he was eager to watch it happen.

“Morning,” Gwen murmured, sitting up in the chair and tucking her phone in her jacket pocket. “Dad left for work. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter ordered his lips to smile. “Never better. How 'bout you?”

“Fine. I'm just glad that, if you had to get hurt, it happened over summer break.” Gwen responded with her own, equally forced smile. “I would not be having a good time in school right now.”

“I hear you.” The conversation lulled for a second. Peter took a breath. He'd love to launch into their usual playful banter, but right now he had a bit too much on his mind. “I need to get back to Aunt May. She's probably worried sick. Well, that or she's plotting to ground me for life as soon as I walk in the door.”

“Well, if that’s true, I see no reason to keep you here.” As he spoke, Leo withdrew the needle from Peter's arm and stuck on a band-aid. “You’re good to go.”

“Cool.” Without further ado, Peter flung off the covers and returned to his feet. He ached a bit, but nowhere near as bad as he had after his last tussle with the Sinister Six. “Now c'mon, Gwen, let's head home.” As he made for the door, Peter added, “I'll feel better once I know May's safe. If Kraven's pieced together who I am...” He gave an involuntary shudder.

There was silence.

“Gwen?” Peter glanced back, only to find Gwen still in her seat, avoiding eye contact. “What's wrong?”

“There's... something I need to tell you.” Reluctantly, Gwen retrieved her phone from her pocket. “While you were asleep, I checked the news.” She took a breath. “Kraven's been on a rampage all over Manhattan. He's running around in your mask brutalizing criminals. He hasn't killed anyone yet, but it's only a matter of time at this rate. And it looks like he's got some new superpowers to boot.”

“What?” Peter gave a start. “Why haven't the cops stopped him?”

“They’ve been trying to all day, but he must’ve taken some weird voodoo herbs that make him immune to the tranq gas.”

“So in other words, I'm the only one powerful enough to stop Kraven right now.”

Gwen rested a hand on his arm. “It's okay, Peter,” she said softly. “Go save some lives.”

Chapter Text

A horde of pedestrians fled, shrieking, from a trashcan resting by a shop door. Next to said trashcan was a stray newspaper, and on the wall above it was a raving jungle man in a Spider-Man mask.

“Littering is a crime against society!” Kraven screamed at the top of his lungs. “You're criminals, and I'm going to hunt every last one of you! Then Calypso will love me. I am the Spider! I am the-” Suddenly, he groaned, clutching his temples. “My head. Why do I feel a... tingling?”

Wham. The next thing he knew, Kraven was kicked off his perch by an unknown assailant.

“Gee, I'm surprised you can even hear your spider-sense over all the voices in there.”

Kraven picked himself off the ground, then locked eyes with his attacker. His jaw dropped. “What game is this?” Kraven snarled. “Only a madman would dress as you do!”

“Hi pot, I'm kettle.” The attacker pulled himself to his full stature. “What's wrong, big guy? Haven't you ever heard of the Bombastic Bag-Man before?”

Of course, the reason Kraven hadn't heard of him before probably had to do with the fact that the McDonald’s bag was still firmly stuck to Peter’s head – He’d even glued it in place with some web-fluid to accommodate his acrobatics.

Yeah, this one was a keeper. Screw Spider-Man – Clearly, Bag-Man was Peter's true calling.

“So where'd you get the new powers, Kravie? Wall-crawling doesn't really fit the 'jungle cat' motiff.”

“I recognize that voice.” Kraven's brow creased as he stepped closer to his prey. “I received my powers from the same place you did, Spider-Man – your college's laboratory.”

The ESU lab? That didn't bode well. If Elmer Fudd here had broken in and stolen one of the genetically-altered spiders, it could tip Professor Warren off to the fact that the spiders gave people spider-powers.

But Peter didn't let this concern show in his voice. “Laboratory? You mean you didn't get yours from a box of Cracker Jack? Weird.” Peter fired his web-shooters, but Kraven's reflexes were too fast now. He dodged like it was nothing.

“I'm glad you're here, boy.” Kraven crouched down like a big cat fixing to pounce. A… spider-cat, Peter guessed. “I've finally realized why my darling Calypso has not yet reappeared. This time, when I bury you, I'll make sure it's permanent.” On the last word, he lunged.

“Dude, do your ears not work?” Peter said as he ducked a swipe of Kraven's fist. “I'm the Bombastic Bag-Man.” He webbed the nearby trashcan and yanked it into Kraven, but it merely shattered against the guy's back like it was glass. Sheesh. Peter guessed that was what happened when you gave spider-powers to someone who was already way too buff.

“Talk all you like, boy, but deep down you know that I am the true Spider now!” Kraven did a sudden flip over Peter's head, landing behind and then kicking Peter's legs out from under him.

“Agh!” Peter face-planted into the pavement. Dang, Kraven was so much faster than normal.

“That's why you've chosen to wear that ridiculous costume, isn't it?” Kraven lifted his fist for the finishing blow. “I stripped your title from you.”

“Hey, don't knock the new threads!” Thwip. The finishing blow was softened by a layer of webs over Kraven's fist.

“You were never worthy!” With his newfound spider-strength, Kraven managed to tear off the webbing, but by that time Spider-Man – sorry, Bag-Man – was already back on his feet. “I was always meant to be the Spider. Me!” Kraven swung his fists blindly, chanting, “Spyder! Spyder! Burning bright!”

“Great, now we can add 'ruining William Blake' to your list of crimes.” Sure, Peter was a whole heck of a lot weaker that Kraven now, but he at least still had all his mental faculties intact, meaning instead of attacking randomly, Peter knew exactly where to strike. “The tiger's 'burning bright' because it's, y'know, orange. It doesn't really work if you replace it with a spider.” He delivered a kick to Kraven's stomach. “I mean, unless it’s a red and blue one, but, phht, c’mon, what kind of spider’s bright red and blue. That’s just silly.”

Kraven was winded for a second, but he quickly collected himself. “Silence! I am the Spider, and you are merely a fly for me to devour in my web.” Kraven smashed his pointer and middle fingers against his palms. Peter impulsively flinched, but... nothing happened. Well, besides Kraven inadvertently declaring “I love you” in sign language.

“W-What?” Kraven stared at his wrists, dumbfounded. “Why is it not working? I am the Spider! Where are my webs?”

“They're not org- Oh, I'm not even gonna say it this time.” Peter seized the confusion to shoot some actual webs, pinning Kraven to the sidewalk.

“No! No this cannot be!” Kraven roared with fury as he squirmed against his restraints. “I am the Spider!”

Before Kraven had a chance to break free, Peter uncorked a vial of gene cleanser from his belt. “Boy, all that deranged rambling must make you thirsty.”

“Please, no! I can't lose my powers! Not again! Not ag-! Glug.” Kraven tried to close his mouth, but Peter held his nostrils shut, forcing Kraven to open up if he wanted to breathe.

“Ah, gene cleanser. Is there any problem it can't fix?” The moment the cleanser was safely down Kraven's throat, Peter yanked the Spider-Man mask off his head. “And I believe this belongs to me.” Peter didn't put it back on, though. No, he wouldn't be doing that until his mask had gone through at least three hot cycles in the wash.

“I... I failed.” After a minute of struggling against his sticky prison, Kraven finally gave up, panting, and bowed his head. “I am not the Spider.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, man,” Peter said as he turned to stroll down the street. “Tell you what, why don't I go fetch some friends from the NYPD, and we'll all treat you to some ice cream?”

It only took Peter a minute to hunt down Captain Stacy. Naturally, Kraven's wacky antics had attracted a whole host of squad cars. He'd had such a long day, it actually took Peter a minute to realize why the other officers were staring at him.

“Oh, this?” Peter gestured to the bag on his head. “My suit's at the dry cleaners. Anywho, I came to tell you Kraven's all webbed up right over-” He turned around to point in Kraven's general direction. “-here.”

He was pointing at an empty pile of webs.

Peter groaned. “Not again-”

“Ragh!” Even without spider-powers, Kraven was fast. In the blink of an eye, he sprang from an alleyway.

Spider-sense. Peter caught the hunting knife millimeters from his throat.

“What do you plan to do, boy?” Kraven struggled with all his might, but Peter’s pinky alone had the strength to pin him to the pavement. “Imprison me? I shall escape again. Always, Kraven the Hunter shall escape. The hunt will not relent! Next time, I will be swifter! I will be merciless!”

“But-” The words caught in Peter’s throat. Kraven had a point. The only reason Peter was still alive was because Kraven had gotten too hasty with the burial, and something told him Kraven wouldn’t make that mistake again. How was Peter supposed to live the rest of his life? How was he supposed to be there for Gwen when this nut could escape Ryker’s at any moment? Could lay another trap for him?

“You know what must be done.” Kraven’s eyes flitted to the knife in his struggling hand. “This only ends with one of us in the ground.”

“But… you know you can’t beat me.”

“This only ends with one of us in the ground.”

“You…” Trembling fingers drew near Kraven’s knife.

“That’s it, boy,” Kraven said softly. “Show no fear.”

“…want to die?”

Kraven snorted. “What I want is the dignity a cage cannot allow.”

A moment passed.

“Do it,” said Kraven. “Do it.”

Thwip. The next instant, the blade’s edge was blunted by a gob of webbing. Thwip. And the instant after that, the rest of Kraven was once again trapped in a cocoon.

“But why?” Kraven spat, struggling with all his might. “I’ll escape again. I’ll kill you! You must strike first. You have no choice!”

“There’s always a choice.” Peter looked to the officers behind them. To Gwen’s dad, who nodded. “See a therapist, Kraven. Get some help.” A second ago, Kraven had made Peter’s heart pound, but now he just seemed... sad.

“But why-? I've done nothing but hunt you. I buried you alive!” Kraven had this look of earnest confusion on his bearded face. It was almost childlike. “Why should you care what happens to me?”

Peter’s eyes met his feet, which were bare beneath his costume. “Because no one should have to feel… how you feel right now.” But slowly, his eyes locked with Kraven’s. “There’s more to life than hunting. Than fighting over and over until you… can’t anymore. I mean, you have all these amazing skills. You could really help people, work on a nature reserve or something. If you've got the power to do good, then you have a responsibility to the world.”

Kaven stared at him. “You truly believe that?”

Peter nodded. “With all my soul.”

Another moment passed.

After what felt like forever, Kraven finally said, “You fight with honor, Spider-Man. I will respect your wishes.”

Peter almost laughed in relief. The tension had vanished faster than flipping a light switch.

As the officers stepped forward to collect the webbed-up Kraven, all he said was, “Make sure my lion, Gulyadkin, is cared for. You will find him in my safe house.”

“We'll call animal control,” said Captain Stacy.

And with that, Kraven allowed himself to be led away into a police van. Right before the doors shut behind him, Kraven met Peter's eyes one last time.

Peter found himself staring back long after the police van had driven off.

“Peter.” Peter flinched at the sound of his own name, but it was just Captain Stacy speaking in an undertone. “You did good.” He came to a stop at Peter's side, placing an arm on his shoulder. “Maybe I… did come off as a bit patronizing back at the hospital.”

But Peter shook his head. “No, you were just looking out for me. Thanks for the wake-up call.”

“Much obliged.” After that, smiles were exchanged and hands were shaken. “This is how things should be – Spider-Man working with the police. I can’t say I approve of the illegal vigilantism aspect, but maybe, in light of all the service you’ve done to this city, we could have you pardoned someday. In fact, you’d make a valuable asset to the force once you’ve come of age.”

“I’d love that,” said Peter, “for the look it’d bring to Jameson’s face, if nothing else. Except, y’know, I’d never unmask till I know my loved ones are all safe.”

“Trust me, I share your concern,” Stacy said with a smirk. “But we can cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Right, right.” Peter nodded, causing his bag to wobble. “For now, though, we’ve still got Mickey Mouse’s less popular cousin to deal with.”

“Edward Whelan? The one the media calls Vermin? My men already recaptured him, actually.”

“Really?” Peter gave a sigh of relief. “So New York doesn't have to worry about any R.O.U.S.'s anymore?”

Captain Stacy’s face remained a perfect blank.

“That's, uh, from a movie.” Peter cleared his throat. “So where’d Vermin come from, anyways? I thought we were done with new super-mercenaries now that Smythe’s behind bars?”

“Well, this particular mercenary had no vendetta against you, as far as we could tell,” Captain Stacy said with a shrug of his shoulders. “We believe he’s an escaped experiment of Vincent Stegron – a biogeneticist implicated in several cases of super-mercenary production. He’s still at large.”

Stegron, huh? Guess he was the latest addition to Spider-Man’s radar, then.

Well, Aunt May didn’t look too suspicious. She only peered at Peter a moment before turning her attention to Gwen and her dad, the other two people on the Parker household doorstep.

“My apologies. Gwen and I didn’t mean to intrude at this hour.” Gwen’s dad nodded to the sunrise peeking over Forest Hills’s horizon, and then to May, who tugged her pale pink bathrobe farther over her pajamas. “We were just returning Peter to you.”

Peter shrank at his mention. Hopefully, Aunt May wouldn’t think too hard about why Peter was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and pants in the middle of summer. Well, at least May couldn’t see all the scratches and bites on Peter’s face thanks to the magic of Gwen’s makeup kit.

“I’d better get going.” Gwen’s dad turned to leave, but he was stopped by a voice.

“Actually, George-” May took a step out the front door. She brushed a strand of white hair from her eyes. “-would you like to grab a coffee?”

Gwen’s dad turned back, revealing a smile. “I guess I can spare a minute.”

After that, the Parkers and Stacys went inside, with the grown-ups gravitating towards the kitchen and the kids gravitating towards the staircase.

“Me and Gwen will be in my room. Oh, and guys?” Peter shot the adults a goofy smirk. “No hanky-panky, now.”

There was a four-person laugh, and then Peter and Gwen vanished up the stairs.

The moment the kids were gone, May spun to gawk at George from across the coffee pot. “Was he wearing makeup?”

George shrugged. “Kids these days.”

Alright, Mary Jane’s makeup was done, and after only four hours. New record. Now all that was left was to figure out what to do with her hair. Obviously, MJ’s overall appearance didn’t need to be something quite as, err, advanced as her Fourth of July outfit. No need to scare the poor girl when she was clearly still in the questioning phase.

What if MJ put her hair up? Maybe something more tomboyish? Mary Jane made her gorgeous red locks into a ponytail with her fingers, then examined herself in the mirror. Hmm. Yeah, this plus her black jacket and fingerless gloves wouldn’t be half bad. MJ hadn’t gone with that look since she’d dated that Japanese chick from her last school. Guess MJ tended to be the “guy” in these things.

Speaking of guys, MJ couldn’t help but picture the look on Peter’s face when he found out about this. His head was gonna pop right off his body. But… But he’d come around to it, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t want Gwen to stay miserable and heartbroken forever. Besides, this was just one little date. Purely experimental. For all MJ knew, nothing would come of it.

Bzzzt, bzzzt.

“Miss Stacy, I presume?” Instantly, the phone was retrieved from the side of the sink and pressed to MJ’s ear.

“Mary Jane. Hi. Uh…” Aww, listen to her. She was all nerves. “This is awkward.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be awkward ab-”

“I got back with Peter.”

Oh. MJ had spoken too soon. “Seriously? That’s great!”

“You- You were right before. I freaked out over nothing.”

“Ah, I knew you lovebirds couldn’t keep away from each other for long.”

The phone speaker picked up an intake of breath. “You… might be more right than you realize. I love Peter. I love him so much, it scares me. And- And I know how crazy his life is on, like, a cerebral level, but I take one look at him, and suddenly it doesn’t matter. Not even a little.” There was a pause. “Maybe Peter’s not the one with a death wish…”

“Hey, you don’t have to justify a thing to me, girlfriend. You know I’m your wingwoman for life.”

“Well, I feel awful about waiting till the last minute to cancel the… the date.” The way Gwen said it, you’d think that was a four-letter word. Okay, it was, but you know what MJ meant.

“C’mon, no big deal. There were never any strings attached.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Gwen took another breath, then said, “Actually, I don’t suppose instead of canceling on you, I could just, uh… bring Peter along? We’d have to postpone it until he’s back from his web design job at the Bugle, though.”

“Sounds good to me. We’ll be a threesome, then.”

Radio silence.

“Not that kind of threesome.”

“Right, right. But, uh, MJ? Maybe don’t mention the whole, err, date thing to Peter. Or my dad. Especially not my dad.”

“Of course,” said MJ. “Our secret.”

After that, the conversation lulled, and the girls said their goodbyes. Even after the call ended, though, Mary Jane lingered a while in her bathroom, staring at her reflection.

Okay, this was gonna sound weird, but… Peter was happy. Not “adrenaline high from being Spider-Man” happy, but happy happy. He hadn’t thought he could be this happy less than twenty-four hours after getting buried alive, but here he was. It was like a pillar had been knocked out of his life, and now it was back into place. Now the world didn’t feel so heavy again. Yesterday, the words “Gwen Stacy” had sent pain signals through Peter’s brain, but now they flooded it with dopamine.

“I can’t believe it!” Peter was shaken from his thoughts by a certain loudmouth barging into the workroom. “We completely misjudged him! Here I’d thought he was some random superpowered loser, but look at this.” Jameson held up today’s front page headlines. “How big a loser can this guy be after the way he talked down that Kraven fella?”

Peter’s heart did a backflip into his stomach. He nearly tripped out of his computer chair as he ran to examine the headline. Was this for real? Was this for real?

“I want all of New York singing his praises, and they’re gonna hear about him first from the Bugle’s exclusive headline!” Jameson flipped the paper around so everyone could read its enormous, bold title: BOMBASTIC BAG-MAN BAGS SPIDER-CREEP.

Peter’s heart promptly crawled back up to its proper place. Of. Course.

“But isn’t he a masked vigilante?” spoke up Robbie from across the newsroom. “I thought you hated those?”

Jameson snorted. “Please, tons of eyewitnesses saw this guy shake hands with Captain Stacy – He’s obviously some kinda government-sanctioned superhero. Probably Captain America’s inbred grandson or something. That bag’s there to spare us all.”

Oh, for the love of-! Peter rolled his eyes as he returned to his chair. Maybe he ought to retire Spider-Man for good and stick to being Bag-Man from now on. At least if Chameleon tried to copy that costume, it’d be really funny (Speaking of which, that guy was at large now, so add that to Peter’s to-do list).

Without Eddie and the Connors, the ESU lab had gone from warm and welcoming to cold and sterile. There was one bright spot, though – namely, the headband-wearing blonde hovering by Peter’s shoulder. They weren’t really interning over the summer, but Dr. Warren had asked for their help cleaning up the place after the number Kraven did on it.

Peter and Gwen huddled together, giggling and whispering as they tried their best to operate a broom and dustpan in unison.

“Hey, check this out.” Peter knelt down by a table, hovering his bare hand over the floor underneath it. “I can use my spider-sense to find the glass. Aaaaaaand...” He pressed his palm against random tiles until a telltale buzzing rang through his head, leaving Peter’s palm mere centimeters from the ground. “-there it is.”

Gwen made an effort to stifle her laughter as she swept up the shards. “That- That still doesn’t make any sense. I don’t care how genetically-altered they are – Spiders can’t see the future.”

“I guess you could say my spider-sense doesn’t make any… spider-sense.”

“I will smack your face with this broom handle.”

“I’d dodge it with my spider-s-”

“Shh, shh!”

The giggling and whispering came to an abrupt halt as Debra Whitman walked past them. As soon as she was out of earshot, the giggling and whispering resumed.

“Sheesh, Kraven sure left us some work to do.” Peter shook his head as he emptied the dustpan into a nearby trash bag. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad all those spiders got destroyed before anyone else could get bit, but I kinda wish Kraven had found a less… colorful way to do it.” Kraven’s little all-you-can-eat buffet had been caught on security camera for the whole world to see.

“You know what this means, though, don’t you?” Gwen dropped her voice to an even softer whisper. “Kraven ate these spiders, and then he got superpowers. Sooner or later, Dr. Warren’s gonna piece that together. He could find out your secret.”

“Maybe,” Peter said darkly, “but I’m more worried about him pumping out an army of spider-powered mercenaries for Oscorp. Dude was besties with Norman ‘Green Goblin’ Osborn, remember? And I’m still not convinced the Morbius-slash-Man-Wolf ordeal was an accident...”

“I don’t know, Peter...” Gwen set her broom down for a second so she could slouch. “Last time you thought Dr. Warren was behind everything, it turned out to be that Smythe guy. Besides, Norman was always a bit of a creep – Warren’s not like that.”

Peter snorted. “He made the Connors move to Florida.”

“Only because you and Eddie kept stealing gene cleanser.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Is everything alright, you two?”

“Gah!” Peter and Gwen flinched in unison – Dr. Warren had spontaneously teleported behind them. Sheesh, the guy could give Harry a run for his money.

“Yes, everything’s fine, sir,” Gwen said, fiddling with her glasses. “We’re almost done here.”

“Excellent.” Warren gave Gwen an approving nod. “Keep up the good work, little lady.” He wet his lips, then walked away.

As soon as he was gone, Peter gave Gwen a look. “Tell me that wasn’t at least a little creepy.”

“Maybe a little…”

“Okay, this is the coolest thing ever.” Mary Jane had taken one half of the booth while Peter and Gwen took the other. “It feels like we’re the main characters of life.”

MJ wasn’t sure the lovebirds were listening to her, though. They seemed busy caressing each other’s hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. At this rate, they’d get themselves thrown out of the Silver Spoon for giving all the customers diabetes.

“And now that you guys’ silly argument is done with, we can all be, like, secret superheroes buddies.” MJ took a sip of her Coke. “We’re a power trio, like in all those books Gwen reads. Think about it.” She gestured to each of them in turn. “There’s the protagonist destiny boy, his redhead friend, and the brainy chick.”

“Why do you get to be Ron?” said Peter through a mouthful of burger. “I want to be Ron.” He gave Gwen’s hand another caress. “I mean, he is the one who gets with the brainy chick…”

“He does?” Mary Jane blinked. “I thought the brainy chick got with that Snape guy?”

Gwen nearly hacked up her latte. “MJ, that was just in the fanfic I showed you!”

“What?” Suddenly, Peter didn’t look so hungry for his burger. “What kind of screwed up fanfics have you been reading? I swear, those things can have the weirdest pairings…”

The three of them stood there a moment in silence, eating their food.

“Well, either way, I’m glad you guys worked things out,” said MJ. “Makes it a lot less angsty around here.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “And hey, maybe next time we hang, you can bring Hobie along and make it a double date?”

If the discomfort didn’t bleed through to Mary Jane’s face, it sure as heck did to Gwen’s.

“It, uh, didn’t work out between us, actually.” MJ was proud of herself – She’d managed to keep her voice level. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of him anymore. Not my choice, but…”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s cool. It was a learning experience for me, y’know?” MJ took another bite of fries. “I’m sure as heck never rushing into things like that ever again. In fact, I’m done with dating for good. The ‘free agent’ thing was the way to go, and I never shoulda strayed from-”

“Mary Jane?” said a voice. A voice that made MJ’s hair stand on end. “Your aunt said I’d find you here…”

No way. No way. Mary Jane sprang from their outdoor table. It couldn’t be- But it was. He was coming towards them down the sidewalk, wearing shorts and a t-shirt and- and a new haircut. As if nothing had happened. As if he’d never been molten gold a day in his life.

“Mark?” Mary Jane’s next attempt to keep her voice even was less successful than the last. “But you- How-?”

A grin crossed his perfect face as he neared them. “Sorry I didn’t you tell you, babe. I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I healed from the operat-”

It was hard for him to finish that sentence with a pair of lips blocking his mouth. The two of them held that pose, arms around each other, for- for MJ didn’t know how long. Long enough to earn some whoops and applause from their fellow Silver Spoon customers.

Eventually, MJ broke off so she could turn back to grin at Peter. “Good news, Tiger, that double date’s on the table after all.” But MJ couldn’t make it long before returning her attention to her boyfriend.

If she’d been more attentive, Mary Jane might’ve noticed the glance Gwen was trading with Peter.

“Whoo!” MJ cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “Happy ending for everyone!”

End of Lesson 3

Chapter Text

Lesson 4 : Religious Studies 101

“Alright, alright, I’m here. Now what’s this big surprise?” Peter descended the living room stairs to find Aunt May standing by the front door. She was practically hovering off the carpet, grinning from ear to ear. Wow. Peter hadn’t seen her this happy in forever.

“I wanted to introduce you...” Aunt May took a dramatic pause. “...to my new boyfriend!”

Peter had been punched in the stomach by supervillains before, so he was well acquainted with the feeling that suddenly arose in his gut. “Your...” He swallowed. “...boyfriend?”

“That’s right.” Aunt May gazed off into the distance, starry-eyed. “He has such a wonderful personality.” Knock, knock, knock. “Oh, there he is now.” She reached for the doorknob.

The door swung open… and Peter recoiled in horror. Standing on the Parker family welcome mat was a tall, angry-looking man with a cigar in his mouth and a Hitler mustache on his lip.

Aunt May’s new boyfriend struck a sexy pose. “Face it, Tiger… I want pictures of Spider-Man!”

“Aaaaaaaaagh-!”

The next thing he knew, Peter was under the bedsheets in his pitch black bedroom, panting like mad and covered from head to toe in icy sweat. He instinctively dug his nails into his arm to make sure this was real. Oh, thank god, pain. Peter rolled over under the sheets, slowing his breathing as best he could.

In retrospect, those Carnage nightmares hadn’t been so bad.

The setting sun illuminated the figure of three teens, blonde, brunette, and redhead, sitting on the bleachers above the football field and huddled over a smartphone. Now, that wasn’t such an unusual sight in this day and age, but what was an unusual sight in this day and age was the video they were watching of Spider-Man battling a dinosaur.

“A friggin’ DINOSAUR?” Mary Jane looked dangerously close to floating off into the sky like a balloon.

“Well, technically it was a guy who mutated himself with dino DNA,” said Peter. “And get this, his name was Stegron. Not his supervillain name, but, y’know, his actual surname.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” said Gwen. “That guy totally picked a stegosaurus on purpose.”

Peter’s gaze returned to the phone screen, which displayed low-resolution footage of Spider-Man duking it out with a dinosaur-man in the middle of Central Park. Yeah, third period biology had gone a bit differently for Peter today.

“You fought a dinosaur,” said Mary Jane. “You fought a dinosaur.”

“It’s not like he popped out of nowhere, though.” Peter paused the video with a tap of his thumb. “Stegron worked for Tricorp, and Foswell thinks those guys are Oscorp’s competition in the supervillain-making business. Pretty sure they’ve only ever made the really lame ones like the Spot, though.”

“So Tricorp’s the knockoff brand?” Gwen said with a smirk.

“Heh, yeah.” Peter took a breath. “I’m just glad I got the Connors’ stolen research back to them, so no one knows Steggy was actually copying the Lizard…”

MJ blinked. “Lizard?”

“Oh, sorry, we never told you about that one.”

“This guy turned himself into a giant lizard by accident,” said Gwen. “It could, err, ruin his life if it got out, so, y’know, don’t tell anybody.”

MJ gave her a look. “C’mon, you know I can keep a secret.”

At this, Gwen flushed. “Y-Yep. Guess you can.”

“Geez, though…” But then MJ grew somber. “How many of you guys’ friends have become supervillains, exactly?”

“Too many.” Peter looked from one girl to the other. “Promise me you two’ll never turn into bad guys, okay?”

A goofy grin spread across Gwen’s face. “Aww, but I had such a good evil plan lined up.”

“Ha! Spider-Man saves the day again!”

Gwen leaned into his ear to purr, “My hero…”

After that, the couple was a bit too preoccupied with kissing and cuddling to continue the conversation, and Mary Jane was too preoccupied watching them out the corner of her eye with a growing smile.

But then another sight entered her peripheral vision – a big guy with messy dark hair coming towards the bleachers.

“Oop, my ride’s here. One sec, Mark!” Mary Jane rose from her seat, then huddled towards the other two. In an excited whisper, she asked, “Hey, guys… can I tell him?”

“What?” The kissing and cuddling came to a premature end. “No, you can’t tell him!”

“Come on, Tiger! I hate keeping stuff from Mark.”

“I’m sorry,” said Peter, “but I really can’t trust a guy who got himself mixed up with Oscorp supervillainy and- and the Green Goblin.”

MJ’s face went tight. “Mark made a mistake.”

“We’re not trying to accuse him of anything, Mary Jane,” spoke up Gwen from Peter’s side, “but the more people know Peter’s secret, the bigger the chances it’ll get blown. We’re already beyond lucky Kraven decided not to spill the beans thanks to his weird honor code.”

“But-”

“MJ.” Peter’s brow had creased. “You promised me that you knew being Spider-Man wasn’t a game.”

If MJ had any wind left in her sails, that remark knocked it out. “You’re right. I did. Sorry, Tiger…” And with that, she trudged away down the bleachers, leaving the lovebirds to resume the kissing and cuddling.

Their voices carried on the breeze:

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Mary Jane only made it halfway to the edge of the green before Mark closed the gap. Instantly, his arms were around her.

“Hey, babe,” he said, showing off his wonderfully non-golden teeth. “Miss me?”

“Oh, I couldn’t bear to be away from you,” MJ said with a flourish of her arm.

The two of them held the pose a second, which gave MJ’s eyes enough time to travel across the football field.

A couple yards away, the Midtown Mustangs were practicing… but one Mustang didn’t seem to be practicing quite as hard. Hobie shot MJ a sour look before slinking off hand-in-hand with Mindy the cheerleader.

“Mark?” MJ turned back to her boyfriend.

“Yeah?”

Her lips hit his cheek. “I love you.”

For a moment, surprise overtook Mark’s face. But only for a moment. “You, too, babe.”

“No, I love you more-”

The debate was still raging on by the time Peter and Gwen stepped through the Parker household’s front door. It was stopped, though, the moment the two entered the kitchen.

“Dad?” Gwen ran to his chair to hug him from behind. “What’re you doing here?”

Once again, Gwen’s dad was seated at the kitchen table across from Aunt May, a pot of coffee between them.

“What?” Gwen’s dad smiled at her. “I’m not allowed to spend time here? You certainly seem fond of doing it…”

“I hope my dad hasn’t been too much trouble, Mrs. Parker.” Gwen gave his pale blonde hair a ruffle. “He’s hard to get rid of.”

“Oh, I haven’t minded his presence too terribly much…” May laughed, sitting up in her chair. “Is there anything I can get you, Gwen?”

“No thank you.”

“Such a lovely girl…” May smiled at her. “You’re all Peter thinks about, you know.”

“Really?” Gwen turned towards the aforementioned boy, grinning. “I’d never have guessed.”

And with that, Peter and Gwen cut the chit-chat and made their way up the stairs. They had precious few hours before Peter had to run off to the Bugle.

Aaaaand here he was at the Bugle. Man, back when Spider-Man had fought a new supervillain twice a week, time had moved like molasses, but now that hardly any villains had shown their faces for two months (dinosaur-men notwithstanding), time zoomed by at breakneck speed. Here Peter was, tapping away at his keyboard while stealing wistful glances at the speedily setting sun out his desk’s window.

Hard to believe he was finally a senior. One more easy year, and Peter would be in college. Think, a year from now, Spider-Man would be swinging around the ESU campus (or, err, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, at least). Peter had never dared plan that far ahead when he first started his superhero career.

Better yet, Peter and Gwen had both turned seventeen back in August, which meant there was only one more year before Spider-Man could look into joining the NYPD’s ranks. Photography was nice and all, but Peter honestly saw it more as a hobby. Law enforcement, on the other hand… Peter could see a career there, especially with Captain Stacy helping get his foot in the door.

Man, though… Peter Parker, a senior.It felt like just yesterday, Peter had been a poor naive junior hitting on Sally Avril, and now look at him –He had a girlfriend who he wasn’t letting down on a regular basis, a job he didn’t suck at… Heck, all those rat bites had totally healedby now. After the Kraven ordeal, Peter had thought he’d be having more jam sessions of Carnage nightmares mixed with flashbacks of being buried alive, but it tuned out he’d actually been sleeping well lately (with the occasional Jameson nightmare, that is). In fact, Peter had been feeling so good that he’d quit his therapy with Leo.

Though he might have to resume it if Aunt May ever found herself a boyfriend. Sheesh, Peter couldn’t even begin to imagine who she might pick. Probably someone gross like Dr. Warren…

Speaking of which, work had been fine. Dr. Warren had been marginally less creepy during Peter and Gwen’s internship at the labs, and life at the Daily Bugle was…

“SENSATIONALIST? HOW DARE YOU? THERE’S NOTHING SENSATIONALIST ABOUT ME!”

...normal.

“You call this objective?” Mr. Robertson stormed into the room, hot on the trail of a certain cigar-chomping loudmouth. He slapped down a fresh, hot newspaper onto a desk – nearly spilling poor Betty Brant’s coffee – and read out the headline: “Magic clay tablet holds the secret to immortality.”

Jameson replied with an earsplitting snort. “Look, magic is big right now. The public can’t get enough of that Doctor Weird guy-”

“Strange,” Mr. Robertson said flatly.

“I don’t care how unusual he is – He sells papers!” Jameson threw out his hands, wafting cigar smoke near enough to send Peter into a coughing fit.

Peter fanned himself and tried not to think about the fact that he was working for the print equivalent of BuzzFeed. But somehow, even that didn’t bother him the way it used to.

He was hesitant to say it, but Peter had to admit… life was pretty good right now. Sure, he’d had some rough patches for a while, but things were finally sorting themselves out. No more supervillains. No more hardships. No more loose ends.

Black Cat carefully loosened the end of the crystal necklace from around the mannequin’s neck, then slipped it into the pouch on her hip and quietly climbed out the skylight. She nearly alerted the guard by yawning too loudly.

Ugh, everything was so easy here. The buildings were smaller, the air was cleaner, there were no gun-toting gangs roving the streets… and the rooftops had a distinct lack of ruggedly handsome swashbuckling ones in skintight costumes.

No. Black Cat shook herself from her thoughts. She’d moved past that. New city, new life.

Without further ado, Black Cat pounced onto the window of a different building and crawled back into her penthouse. She almost wished someone had spotted her so there’d be some challenge.

“Felicia.”

Black Cat recoiled, hair on end. Camped out by the open window was an angry, bald, wrinkled man in a bathrobe.

“Oh, D- Daddy, I thought you were asleep.” Felicia casually locked the window behind her and tugged off her white wig, revealing a head of short black hair. Tragically, she’d been forced to ruin her hairdo once they’d assumed their new Canadian identities. Her dad, meanwhile, had opted to rip off the band-aid and shave his head.

“What were you thinking?” he snapped. “You know we don’t need the money anymore! I had more than enough stashed away.”

“Oh, Daddy, must you always assume the worst of me?” As she spoke, Felicia subtly turned herself to keep the hip pouch out of sight. “I was only stretching my legs. It’s so boring here.”

Her dad didn’t seem altogether convinced, but he let it drop.

“And look, I even brought you a present.” Felicia whipped something out of said hip pouch with a metallic clack.

Her father froze. Slowly, reluctantly, his gaze traveled down to the small handgun hovering before him, its barrel pointed safely away. “Felicia.” His face hardened. “You know how I feel about-”

“And you know how I feel about you staying here without any protection.” Felicia practically wrenched it into his hands.

Her father stared at the pistol like it was a parasitic growth. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

Felecia’s bubbliness vanished faster than actual bubbles. “Dad, for the millionth time, you made one mistake, and Spider-Man wanted you to spend the rest of your life rotting away for it!”

But her father failed to return her anger. Instead, he made for his bedroom, the pistol hanging limply at his side.

When it came to hissing, Felicia could outmatch any real cat. “I liked you better before you got old.”

Walter’s only reply was to slam the door behind him.

“Repeat offenders.” Captain Stacy was the kind of teacher who patrolled his auditorium as he spoke, dutifully swatting the heads of any students who dared be on their phones. “A distressingly high percentage of the criminal population. For many, simply being caught is far from enough to deter them from crime completely. To these people, crime is more than a means to an end. It’s addictive. Consuming. It becomes their lifestyle.”

Captain Stacy paced right past Peter, sending goosebumps down his arms. Sheesh, even when the dude was teaching, he still held himself like he was walking his beat.

“And it is for this reason that rehabilitation is equally important as incapacitation. You could fight crime every day until you die of old age, but you’ll have changed nothing unless you change the criminals themselves.” Was it Peter’s imagination, or was Captain Stacy giving him a meaningful stare?

But before Peter could dwell on this, the bell rang. “Class dismissed.” The auditorium emptied itself abnormally quickly. Midtown High had been eerily empty for Peter’s first week of senior year. More and more students were transferring out – Families were getting crazy idea to move to a school district that didn’t suffer daily supervillain attacks.

Of the students that remained, there were Flash and Sha Shan, who were once again going steady, Glory and Kong, who Peter was pretty sure were split up at the moment (though really, you’d need a flowchart to keep track), Rand, who for some mysterious reason had chosen to remain broken up with Sally in favor of some other girl, and then there was MJ, who now spent her days nipping at Mark’s heels. From what Peter understood, Mark himself had finished high school via private classes at the Vault – He’d been a senior last year.

“Peter. Gwen.” The two of them froze mere inches from the auditorium door. “A word, please.”

They promptly made like deer in headlights.

“Do you think he heard about the PDA?” whispered Peter.

“I told you we weren’t being sneaky enough,” Gwen whispered back.

“Hey now, need I remind you which of us was being too noisy, Gwendy?”

“…Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Sorry.”

The two of them practically tripped over each other on their way to the podium.

“D-Did you need something, sir?” Peter swallowed in spite of himself.

“I wanted to talk to you about your career,” said Gwen’s dad, folding his hands behind his back.

“My photography?”

Her dad chuckled. “Your other one.”

“Oh.” It took Peter longer to connect the dots than it really should’ve. “Uh, what about it? I’ve mostly been taking a break like you said.”

“Well...” Gwen’s dad glanced away. “...maybe I was wrong about that. It’s clear by now that you plan on being Spider-Man for the rest of your life.” Slowly, his eyes locked with Peter’s. “Now, I might not have any fancy powers, but think I can relate better than most people. I understand the compulsion to protect and to serve. How it can take over your life. Keep you from being with the people you care about.” His gaze shifted to Gwen.

“Dad...”

“But I learned long ago,” Gwen’s dad continued, “to accept this. I’d never have been able to live with myself working some desk job, even if it meant spending more time with my family. It’s not in my nature.”

“Dad, you know I don’t hold that against you.”

Her dad smiled at her. It wasn’t an expression Peter saw on him too incredibly often. It was a bit weary, but sincere. Warm. It brought to mind the way a different old man had once smiled at his nephew.

“I know you don’t, Gwen. And I love you for that.” His gaze returned to Peter. “Be good to her, Peter. You don’t find a girl like this every day.”

“I love you, too, Dad. Is-” Gwen frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Gwen. It’s just that-” Her father sighed, then reached into his jacket to retrieve what appeared to be a scrap of paper. “Do either of you know what this is?”

“Huh-? Yeah!” Peter recognized it almost instantly. It was a newspaper clipping, and Peter had overheard enough shouting matches to know the headline by heart: Magic clay tablet holds the secret to immortality. “They’re showing that thing off at the Museum of Natural History, aren’t they?”

Captain Stacy gave a slow nod. “That little clay tablet is immeasurably valuable. Scientists have been studying its text for generations. Back in the Forties, the Sub-Mariner claimed it contained a biochemical formula that ancient Atlantians used to restore their youth.” He looked like he could barely articulate the thought without smirking.

“Oh, well, if some buff guy in a speedo says so…” Peter returned the expression.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not.” Gwen’s dad laughed, shaking his head. “What matters is that certain people believe it’s true, and those people are willing to pay top dollar to get their hands on it. The tablet hasn’t been on exhibit in New York for over thirty years. Its owners have been reluctant to display it after it was nearly stolen...” He took a breath. “...by an infamous thief known as ‘the Cat Burglar.’”

It felt like Peter’s spider-sense was going off in his stomach instead of his head. “Walter Hardy.”

Gwen gave Peter’s hand an instinctive squeeze. “What, you think he’ll try to steal it again? I mean, nobody’s that stupid, right? He must be halfway across the globe by now.”

“Like I said, crime is addictive.” Her dad bowed his head, solemn. “The clay tablet fiasco was the greatest failure of Walter’s career. Even if he himself doesn’t feel the need to even the score...”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “...his daughter might.”

Alarms blared as a shadowed figure sailed down the halls of the Museum of Natural History, a small clay tablet in tow.

“Someone stop that thief!” A gaggle of security guards tailed behind, but the shadowed figure easily outmatched their speed thanks to its lithe, slender frame.

“Sorry, boys,” the figure said in a sultry voice, “but it’ll take more than that to stop THE VULTURE! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!” The figure sailed past on open window. In the moonlight, shadows that had once seemed curvaceous were revealed to in fact be the ridges of his red, feather-rimmed flying apparatus. “With the power of this tablet at my disposal, I’ll be a young man again. Then we’ll see if I can’t accomplish anything. We’ll see how many successes I can put to my name!”

Thwip. But the old buzzard’s flight was impeded by an anchor of webbing on his legs. “Fair warning, dude, I hear that stuff freezes all the muscles in your face.”

“You again?” Vulture swooped into our lovable hero, slicing open the webbing and knocking him through the glass into the African exhibit – which had just been repaired from the time Kraven knocked our lovable hero into it.

“Ah, well, guess you’re not Black Cat.” As he ran his mouth, Spidey hopped to his feet and grabbed some nearby display models to lob at Vultch. The Gypaetus barbatus and Gyps fulvus models managed to smack Vulture right in his big, fat, bald head. “Not unless she really let herself go since I last saw her.”

“The rest of the Sinister Six was right. I should’ve gone out of my way to kill you!” If it wasn’t for his trusty spider-sense, Spidey would’ve totally forgotten that Vultchy had added laser blasters to his getup. Spider-Man managed to backflip out of the way in time, though sadly the Evarcha culicivora model got obliterated.

“Look, Vultch, I know you miss your hair, but you can make the bird motif work without it.” Hmm, there were no giant Christmas trees around, so it looked like the Web-Head would have to think up a new way to beat the Vulture. “All you’ve gotta do is change your codename to the Bald Ea-”

“Shut it, you insufferable brat!” The Vulture took one more dramatic swoop at our hero… and ended up face-planting into the massive web Spidey had woven inside the pit next to the Galeosoma pallidum model. The Vulture screamed and flailed with all his elderly might, but another layer of webbing kept him stuck tight.

“Ooh, bummer.” Spidey perched himself on the wall to inspect his handiwork from above. “But don’t feel bad, man. Sure, the Sinister Six rejected you from their latest team, but I hear the Legion of Losers has an opening.”

“Thanks for the help, Spider-Man.” Looked like the generic security guard guys had arrived to haul Vulture’s feathery keister off to jail. Now all Spidey had to do was return that clay tablet to the-

Spider-Man froze. Sprinting up the wall on the opposite side of the museum was a second shadowy figure. And this time, something told Spidey those curves weren’t a trick of the light.

“Cat.” The acoustics in this place gave Spider-Man’s voice more reverb than he’d expected.

Black Cat hesitated only a moment to look down on him. Lo and behold, there was the clay tablet resting in her slimy little paws. Vulture must’ve dropped it during the chaos.

Finally. Spider-Man’s heart was racing as fast as it ever had. He dove out of the African exhibit to give chase. And he wasn’t the only one.

“Freeze, Hardy!” A trio of police officers dashed through the museum’s doors and onto the scene, each of them aiming their guns at the feline figure above.

“Get down here and set the tablet on the ground.” The leader of the trio was, naturally, Captain Stacy, with Sergeants Carter and DeWolff flanking him.

Black Cat tried to scurry up to the skylight, climbing with those clawed gloves of hers, but a warning shot from Sergeant Carter made her reconsider.

“What do you even need that thing for?” Spider-Man called out to her. “Getting wrinkles already?” Black Cat’s only reply was a scowl.

With a sudden leap, she made it through the open skylight, the police’s gunfire missing by mere millimeters. Her pursuers were forced to run for the museum’s staircase – excepting those with spider-powers.

Black Cat hadn’t even made it to the far end of the roof when our spectacular hero popped out of the skylight to land across from her.

“I’m surprised at you, Cat.” Spider-Man crouched into a fighting stance. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show your face in Manhattan again.”

“Out of my way.” Black Cat’s claws extended from her gloves with an audible shing.

“What, no flirtatious banter?” Spidey tried to inject his usual bounciness, but it came out as coldness. “I appreciate that, actually. No point pretending I’m the least bit interested in you after what you did.”

“Gosh, I feel so guilty about that.” As she spoke, Black Cat slipped the clay tablet into a pouch on her hip. Aside from the added fashion accessory, she looked much the same as Spidey remembered her. The moon wasn’t out tonight, but that didn’t stop the City That Never Sleeps from illuminating her. She had on the same white wig, the same skintight black jumpsuit with white fuzz trim… But somehow, Black Cat’s snarling face transformed her getup from seductive to menacing. It almost reminded Spidey of the mutated Kraven.

“Y’know, for a while there I actually thought you had feelings for me.” Spider-Man let out a bitter laugh. “But you were using me from the start, weren’t you? I’m not an idiot, Cat – I read the papers. I know the mayor’s tiger necklace thingy went missing right after you quote-unquote ‘helped’ me catch Chameleon.”

“Oh, grow up.” Black Cat was talking tough, but she was keeping a safe distance from Spider-Man. They both knew which of them would win in a fistfight. “Yes, I steal shiny rocks from rich people. Don’t you have any supervillains to be fighting?”

“Well, if that’s all you’d done, then, yeah, I’d probably be pestering Tombstone or something right now.” Spidey took a breath, forcing his fists to stop quivering. “But then you had the nerve to come back and break your dad out of jail again when I wasn’t there to stop you. I’d wondered where you’d learned that ‘emotional manipulation’ trick from. He was great at pretending to feel remorse. I bet you two had a real good laugh once my back was turned.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I ever liked you!” snapped Cat. “You’re a little bundle of self-righteousness, y’know that? My dad made one mistake and now you think you know everything there is to know about him. Do you have idea how hard it was to keep him from turning himself back in? You- You messed with his head!”

“You’re a thief who broke a murderer out of jail! How could you possibly think you’re the good guy here, you walking femme fatale stereotype?” Spider-Man had abandoned his fighting stance in favor of digging his wrist into his forehead. “I never should’ve been so softon you. You’re not less of a crook than guys like Vulture just because he’s a creepy old dude and you’re, like, the opposite.” He took a tentative step forward, and, to his surprise, Black Cat cowered.

Then again, it made sense. She was boxed in. Her only hope was either to jump down the skylight or leap off the roof, and either way, Cat was no match for Spider-Man’s superhuman speed. They weren’t fighting in a room full of security lasers this time, and Spidey wasn’t holding back whenever she made goo goo eyes at him anymore. He had this.

“S-Spider-Man! Don’t move!”

That voice… Spider-Man spun to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

But oddly enough, that wasn’t what startled him. No, what startled him was that his spider-sense hadn’t gone off. And, seeing as there were no alien symbiotes in sight, that could only mean, despite all appearances, Spidey wasn’t in any actual danger. Whoever was holding that gun had no intention of firing it.

And Spider-Man didn’t have to look to know who was holding it. That voice had been burned into his skull for the past year. The Cat Burglar. Walter Hardy. And if he was aiming his gun without setting off Peter’s spider-sense, that could only mean Walter was bluffing to protect his daughter.

At least, that’s the conclusion a calm, rational person would come to.

“You think you can come back here after- after everything you did and point that thing at me?” Spider-Man’s fists were quivering again, and this time, he didn’t have the faintest ability to stop them. It was all he could do to keep from screaming at the top of his lungs like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Walter may have shaved his head, but Peter could never mistake that face. Walter was even wearing an all-black outfit again, complete with a beanie on his noggin. The same outfit he’d worn in his “Cat Burglar” days. The same outfit he’d worn… last summer. The only change was the modern-looking grappling hook in his hand, no doubt borrowed from his daughter. Walter may have been old, but he’d certainly managed to find his way onto this rooftop with no problems.

“Dad? How did you get here?” Judging from her face, Black Cat was as surprised as Spidey.

“I followed you,” Walter said breathlessly. “Why did you come back here, Felicia? How could you do something so stupid?”

“The same reason you came here thirty years ago.” Black Cat sheepishly retrieved the tablet from her pouch, holding it up for her dad to see. “Because if this thing’s legit, you can be young again. You won’t have to carry a gun anymore. And if it’s not, we could at least sell it for a jillion dollars.” She gave a feeble laugh, but the other two failed to join in.

“You need help, Felicia.” Walter held his pistol with trembling hands. “I only stole when I needed to, not for fun. You’re a kleptomaniac.”

Black Cat gave an indignant huff. “I didn’t do this for fun – I did it for you.”

“Spider-Man, please.” But Walter ignored her, turning back to the quivering hero. “Felicia’s not as strong as she seems. I- I can’t stand the thought of her in prison. Please, let her go. I’ll turn myself in again. Just let her go.”

Spider-Man stared at him. Was he for real? Spider-Man didn’t have to do a thing this dirtbag said. He and his daughter both deserved to be in jail. Heck, it was probably her dad’s enabling of her that’d turned Felicia into such a piece of work in the first place.

Then again, if his spider-sense wasn’t going off… maybe Walter really did feel remorse? Maybe he would surrender himself without a fight?

Well, it didn’t matter. If it did come to a fight, Spider-Man could defeat, like, at least six supervillains at once. He could take a pair of normies. Sure, maybe Peter was shaking badly enough and breathing heavily enough to throw him off his game, but so what? This would be a cakewalk. He could do this. In a minute, these two feline-themed weirdos would be webbed up and on their way to prison where they belonged. Uncle Ben’s murderer would face justice once again. All would be right with the world.

Spider-Man’s fists clenched. “You think I’ve never had a gun pointed at my head before? I’ll have the barrel webbed shut before you’ve even pulled the trigger. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t haul the both of you to the police right this second.”

“Oh, I had a feeling you’d say that. That’s why I brought myself a little insurance...” As she spoke, Black Vat reached for the pouch on her hip. “...Peter Parker.”

Chapter Text

What?

Cat could’ve been going for a weapon, and yet Spider-Man remain paralyzed. He dropped his guard, though, once he realized what was really in Cat’s hand – a photograph. Spider-Man couldn’t quite make it out from across the moonlit rooftop, but three guesses as to what it was. Oh, this day kept getting better and better…

“The weird kid who takes my pics for the Bugle? That’s your best guess?” Peter tried his best to sound innocent. He really did. “They debunked that months ago. Parker was just-”

“-wearing a Halloween costume, I know.” Black Cat gave a wry smile. “Sorry, kid, didn’t fool me for a second. I went as myself for Halloween, too.”

“Oh, for the love of-”

“And this pic here? Not from Halloween.” Cat tossed the picture to Spider-Man, who caught it in midair.

Now that he could see it close up, Spider-Man took a good, long look. Crud. What Spidey had here was, naturally, a photo of a half-dressed Spider-Man plopped over on his bed, his mask tossed to the floor. When-? The Fourth of July. The Prowler thing. That night had left Peter so tuckered out, he’d… he’d let his guard down.

“There’s plenty more where that came from on my hard drive, Parker.” As she spoke, Black Cat moved towards her dad.

Spider-Man found himself crumpling the photo into a ball. Beneath his mask, his cheeks were growing hot. How could he have been so reckless? He’d always thought climbing into his bedroom window at night might be risky – especially after MJ’s revelation to him – but Peter had figured it was fine so long as his spider-sense didn’t go off. He’d never counted on the supervillain being armed with a camera.

“You really showed your hand with the way you treated my dad,” said Cat. “Between your hate-boner for him and Venom calling you out on the news, it didn’t exactly take Reed Richards to figure out you’re the Parker kid.”

Spider-Man said nothing.

“Look, I get why you have it out for my dad.” Black Cat gave a shrug. “But blood’s thicker than water. Sorry.”

“Oh, well, at least you’re sorry.”

Cat gave her white hair a toss. “Honestly, I’m disappointed. You went from rugged mystery man to dorky teenager in one fell swoop. But now that I’ve got your web-shooters in my purse… here’s the deal, jailbait.” From her face, you’d think Felicia had just had a canary for lunch. “If my dad or I get arrested, I’ll give the police an SD card full of incriminating photos of you, and then I’ll direct them to my hideout where the rest are stashed. Of course, you could cut the knot by simply killing me, but we both know how you feel about murderers. So if you want to keep your secret identity, your best bet is to let my dad and me escape.” She pursed her lips. “It won’t be very heroic of you, but I’d hate to think what would happen to your aunt if Tombstone caught wind of these photos.”

Cat paused for a reply. She received none.

What was Spider-Man going to do? What could he do? He wished he could’ve stood here debating it for another half hour, but something told him he didn’t have all the time in the-

“Freeze.”

The trio of police officers burst through a door onto the rooftop. Even without his spider-sense going off, Spidey found himself flinching. He’d totally forgot these guys in the chaos.

Capatin Stacy fixed his pistol directly between Walter’s eyes. “Put your weapon on the ground and your hands in the air, Hardy. No one has to get-”

Peter’s ears exploded. He was so disoriented and- and everything moved so fast that, even looking back on it, he wasn’t entirely sure what’d happened. Peter’s best guess was that Sergeant Carter had fired his gun – presumably a warning shot, seeing as no one got hit – and then Walter had gotten spooked and fired back.

Now, Spider-Man had been in the middle of his fair share of firefights before. Guns no longer frightened him the way they had on his first night out. In fact, Spidey had kind of developed a technique for dealing with them. Basically, if his spider-sense went off, then Spider-Man got the heck out of the way and disarmed his assailant from a safe distance with his web-shooters. But if his spider-sense didn’t go off, then Spidey could take a more direct approach.

Crack. Everything had gone white, and when the world faded back in, Spider-Man was looming over the crumpled form of Walter Hardy. The man was nursing a broken nose and an even more broken gun barrel. For a second, Peter let himself feel relief.

There was a problem with his technique, though. See, Peter’s spider-sense only went off if he was in danger.

The shriek of DeWolff turned Peter’s head. Where the trio of officers had once been, now only two remained standing.

Peter’s breathing stopped. He wanted to sprint across the rooftop, wanted to make sure he was okay, but… Peter couldn’t move. This wasn’t happening. Not today.

Not to him.

Peter had never heard Uncle Ben’s last words. He’d been too busy waiting at the library, bitching and moaning about his ride being late. Uncle Ben was dead now. Murdered by a petty criminal – the pettiest Peter had ever had the misfortune of meeting – and if Peter had stopped being a cesspit of angst for two seconds, that petty criminal would be behind bars right now and Uncle Ben would still be alive. Uncle Ben was dead, and Peter could’ve easily stopped it, and no matter how responsible Peter acted from then on out, no matter how many other people were rescued by Spider-Man, nothing would ever, ever change that fact.

But Peter had at least thought, by being Spider-Man, he could prevent that evil from ever happening again.

For a dazed second, Peter thought the Carnage symbiote had crawled its way onto the museum rooftop. Whatever kind of bullet had been in Hardy’s barrel, it’d flown straight through the body armor.

From Peter’s perspective, the other two officers were moving through molasses. The bullet had traveled far more quickly than any human being could possibly react. At least, any normal human being.

“Captain Stacy!” Peter was at his side in a heartbeat. The wound was sealed with webbing before he’d even realized what he was doing. It was okay, it was okay. Peter had saved countless other people before. He could do this.

“P… Peter.” Captain Stacy met his eyes. That was good. He still had some strength left. Dude was tough. And his voice was soft enough to not carry across the rooftop, thankfully.

“I’ve got you, sir. I’ve got you.” Peter startled himself with his own voice. It hadn’t sounded this shaky since… since last summer. “We’re gonna get you to a hospital.”

“Peter...” With a start, Peter realized that Captain Stacy was squeezing his hand. He’d even managed to sit up a little. See, everything was gonna be okay. Sealing the wound like that had really helped. “Be good to her, son.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter put a hand beneath Captain Stacy’s waist. He’d studied first aid in his free time. He knew how to carry injured people. Spider-Man must’ve rushed hundreds to the ER by now. Easy peasy. “Now save your strength, Capt- Captain Stacy?”

“She loves you… so… m...” Captain Stacy had kept his gaze fixed on Peter’s mask, but something about the man’s eyes was changing.

“No. No, no, no, no- You’re gonna be okay, sir. Sir, I- I...” The words trailed off. Captain Stacy wasn’t squeezing his hand anymore. After a moment, Peter slowly, gently returned him to the ground.

Back on the far side of the rooftop, Black Cat stood, hand over her mouth. “Dad? Wh-What do we-?”

“I surrender.” Without another word, Walter Hardy dropped to his knees and set his weapon on the ground. There was a clack as the pistol hit the pavement, followed by a second clack as the ammunition clattered to its side.

“Walter Hardy.” Nonetheless, Sergeant DeWolff kept her own weapon trained at his forehead. She took a tentative step forward. “You have the right to-”

Crack. Something fast and red collided with Walter’s gut.

“Why?” Crack. Peter’s other fist found its way into Walter’s chest. “Why do you DO this to people? WHY?” Crack. And a third time. “Look me in the eyes and answer me, dammit!” Crack.

DeWolff started to run towards them, but Carter held out an arm to stop her.

Crack. “Answer me! Is it for an old piece of clay? For a stupid CAR?”

If you’d asked him in that moment, Peter would’ve sworn he was still wearing the Venom symbiote. He could hear its voice loud and clear in his ears. By now, Walter Hardy was nothing but a misshapen, sniveling old man hobbled over on the pavement. Frankly, he was lucky Peter was restraining himself as much as he was, or else Walter would be nothing but a smear of blood and goo right now.

Peter raised his fist one final time. “Answer me-!” But before it could collide with its target, his spider-sense went off yet again, and he found himself dodging a claw-swipe.

“Don’t you touch him.” Now there was a snarling, hissing Black Cat standing between the criminal and justice.

“What is wrong with you?” Spider-Man would’ve been screaming at the top of his lungs if his throat wasn’t so hoarse. “You’re still defending him?”

“He was trying to protect me!” Cat snapped. “This is my responsibility, not his.” She bowed her head a bit, though her guard didn’t drop for a second. “I owe my dad. I owe him more than you’ll ever know. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him.” She took a breath, then raised her chin back up, meeting Spider-Man’s scowl. “I knew you weren’t as high and mighty as you pretended. I knew you’d be out for my dad’s blood someday.” Her eyes. Peter had never seen them so- so feral. “Well, if you want to beat my dad to death, you’d better make sure you do it to me, too, because I’ve got a whole lot to tell these officers, kid.”

He couldn’t breathe. Peter couldn’t breathe. The whole world felt surreal. Like everything that’d happened since the spider-bite had all been one big, wacky dream, and he was fixing to wake up any second now. His secret identity had always felt so untouchable. Even when Venom had been accusing him, Peter at least had some wiggle room for an alibi. But now…

Behind his mask, Peter’s eyes traveled from the still form of Captain Stacy to the pair of officers gaping at him.

“So what’s it gonna be, Parker?” Despite her father’s groans, Black Cat retrieved the grappling hook from his belt. “Are you going to compromise your precious morals for once in your life, or are you going to put your loved ones in danger?” She aimed it at a faroff building. “We both know there’s really no choice.”

Peter bowed his head. “You’re right,” he said, hoarse. “There’s no choice.”

By midnight, a veritable galaxy of police cars had surrounded the Museum of Natural History. Officers swarmed the building from every angle, drowned in an ocean of howling sirens. And then, amid the chaos, the officers let out startled cries as a pair of humanoid figures tumbled down from the museum’s roof. Instead of completing their course to the ground, however, the figures ended up strung upside down from a lamp post. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be a pair of unfortunate people, a man and a woman, wrapped tight in web-cocoons.

A couple officers yelled out and shined their flashlights on the museum’s wall. A red and blue figure was hanging off it, gazing down at the crowd below.

“Officers,” said Spider-Man, “I caught some criminals. A murderer and his accomplice. Justice is served.” Gently, Spider-Man dangled down a web-pouch housing a perfectly intact clay tablet.

“What are you doing?” Felicia shrieked up at him. “Tombstone’ll kill everyone you know!”

Spider-Man remained in place on the wall, peering down at her. “And then,” he said simply, “you’d have even more blood on your hands.”

At first, Black Cat said nothing, simply bowing her head. But then, she hissed, “Fine. You’re right, I wouldn’t do that to you. There is no SD card. You called my bluff.”

On the last word, her web-cocoon was sliced open, freeing the clawed gloves beneath. What-? Ugh, how had Spider-Man forgot those? Stupid.

Black Cat lunged for her dad, but the swarm of cops sent her dashing in the opposite direction. She ended up zooming for the rooftops via grapple line, narrowly twirling around gunfire. Of course, Spider-Man swooped after her, webs firing left and right from his wrists, but a quickly-dropped smoke pellet made aiming pretty much impossible, and by the time the air cleared, Felicia was long gone.

Alone on the rooftop, Spider-Man’s fist cratered the cement below.

Sergeant DeWolff had had a long day. The kind of day even the strongest cup of coffee couldn’t fix. On top of- of everything else that’d just happened, now she and a half dozen other officers had to spend the rest of their night hunting down some floozy in a fetish suit. This had become a distressingly common occurrence in Manhattan.

But usually, when this kind of thing happened… they had Captain Stacy there to direct them. DeWolff buried her eyes. That name alone was enough to give her a migraine.

“Heh. Maybe we could get some bloodhounds to track her down?” At DeWolff’s side, a smirk crossed Sergeant Carter’s face. “It’d be fitting.” He chuckled to himself.

DeWolff’s face hardened. “You won’t be laughing much longer, Stan. I have to report you.”

That wiped away his smirk. “For what?”

“You know damn well ‘for what.’” She had to stop herself from grabbing him by the collar. “Warning shots are against policy.”

“The suspect was armed!”

“You provoked him. We both know a man like Walter Hardy wouldn’t kill unless he absolutely had to.” DeWolff forced herself to take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, Stan, but I have to do right by George. Even if it means your badge.”

“I…” Carter failed to meet her eyes. “I understand, Jean.”

The police van hadn’t left yet, and so Walter had nothing to do but sniffle and sputter alone in its closed-off back area. At least Felicia had escaped. Walter knew she’d be back, though. She’d drag him out of prison just as she’d done before. Her loyalty was astounding. Walter was only alive right now because Felicia had stopped Spider-Man’s assault.

He wished she hadn’t.

“God… please…” Walter fell to his knees, doing his best to hold his hands together despite the cuffs. “Forgive me, Lord.”

For a moment, there was no answer.

And then a cold, raspy voice said, “He can’t help you anymore, Walter.”

Walter stumbled backwards, crying out for the officers, but nobody came. The back of the van was filling with thick, neon green fog at a dizzying rate. Within seconds, Walter felt like he was floating in a featureless void. Alone.

Until a shadowy figure emerged.

“W-Who are you-?”

“Your sins are overpowering, Walter.” The figure was drawing closer… and closer… “I’ve hungered for so long. I can smell them. I can taste them...”

Walter screamed one final time, and then all was quiet.

A moment later, the police burst into the back of the vehicle, guns aimed and ready, but all they discovered was an empty van and a cold body.

Peter sat on a random, nondescript rooftop, hugging himself. His red and blue spandex did little to protect him from the autumn breeze.

A moment later, a figure in an identical Spider-Man costume dropped down before him in the darkness.

“Had your fill of swinging?” Peter started towards him.

“Yeah.” The guy yanked off his mask to reveal Hobie Brown’s face underneath. “Fun as it is, I’m not eager to risk falling to my death again…”

“Well, you did great,” said Peter, tugging his own mask on tighter. No need to mask his voice, though, seeing as Hobie barely knew Peter. “Sorry I can’t explain more, but trust me, you really helped me out.”

Specifically, Peter had paraded around in front of some officers by the police station, snapping pics while Hobie swung overhead in the spare costume. Sure, Black Cat had probably been truthful about her threat being a bluff, but it couldn’t hurt to go that extra mile with Peter’s alibi.

Yep. This was an integral part of preserving his secret ID and totally not an excuse to procrastinate on returning home.

“Just be sure to put that grappling hook back where you found it. Not a fan of stealing, but this was kind of an emergency.” With that, Peter extended a hand. “And Hobie? Sorry things went south with your girl, man.”

“It’s cool.” Hobie accepted the shake. “I’m over it.”

After that, Hobie returned the spare costume, Peter carried him down to the sidewalk, the two went their separate ways… and then Peter was out of excuses.

Head pounding. Vision blurry. Arms ready to fall off. Peter hadn’t even been hit once tonight, and he was hurting more than he’d ever hurt in his last battle with the Sinister Six.

Peter climbed through the window and collapsed to the floor, tossing his mask wherever it fell. On sheer impulse, he checked to make sure no one had spied on him. Guess tonight was his wakeup call about that…

The sudden tune of The Itsy-Bitsy Spider made Peter jump. Despite his aching muscles, he frantically fished his phone out his utility belt. What was currently on the screen was one of several dozen texts Gwen had sent within the past hour. Some of them were novels, but this one merely read, Are you ok? Dads not answering either. Whats going on? News said there were gunshots. Pls text me back. I love you.

Peter stared at it for longer than he’d meant to. What should he say? What could he say? Peter couldn’t even bring himself to think about tonight.

At least Aunt May was asleep. Peter envied her.

May had wanted a child for as long as she could remember. She and Ben had continued their attempts long after the doctors told them to give up hope. They’d spent money they hadn’t had on dim promises and unproven treatments. In the end, it hadn’t happened. May Parker was not a mother.

But then Peter came into their life, and May cooked his meals and did his laundry and hugged him tight every time he came home crying from elementary school. So May was a lot like a mother.

But sometimes, when she woke up at night in a cold sweat, the imagined roars of police sirens still ringing in her ears, May couldn’t resist asking herself… what if she wasn’t supposed to be a mother? What if, no matter how hard she tried, May’s attempts would always end in failure because… because she wasn’t intended for it?

A mother wouldn’t lose her nerve in front of her child. A mother would’ve been the one consoling her sobbing son about Ben, not the other way around. And now… now May was struggling to even look at Gwen. The instant those terrible words had left the officer’s mouth… the instant an inconsolable Gwen had been guided to her doorstep, May had worried her heart would give out again.

Look at her. Here May was, struggling to compose herself when she was the adult who’d gone through this before. Gone through it more times than… than anyone should have to. How must Peter feel? He’d been in desperate need of a man like George, only to have him snatched away. What message did that send? What did that say about this world where people these days thought it was okay to put on strange costumes and run around causing anarchy?

These thoughts were but a fraction of the ones swirling through May’s head right now, but she couldn’t let herself dwell on any of them. Any but one – Right now, she needed to be with her… nephew.

“Peter, dear-” She gave his bedroom door a feeble knock. “-we need to talk. Something- Something’s happened. And… Gwen’s here in the guest room.”

Gwen had been thinking about orphans lately. Peter was an orphan. Eddie was an orphan. They’d been Gwen’s best friends since they were little. She’d seen the impact it’d had on them growing up. It’d kept Gwen up at night. Getting kidnapped by supervillains had been nowhere near as unpleasant as that bubbling sense of dread in Gwen’s stomach every time her dad came home half an hour late.

Her dad. The pain rocked Gwen’s chest again, and she had to turn over under the covers. Gwen stared at the bedroom wall and thought of nothing. She was staying in the Parker household’s spare room. Mrs. Parker had fixed a bed. It was the quietest Gwen had ever seen her.

What would happen to Gwen now? Was she going to England to be with her next of kin? Gwen couldn’t leave Manhattan. What about Peter?

Peter. More chest pain. It was the oddest thing. There was a person she wanted to see more than anything else on the planet right now, and yet Gwen couldn’t muster the strength to walk to his room.