Spider-Man: Web Of Lies

I zip up my backpack, sliding an extra water bottle inside. Five months, and somehow, it was exactly where I left it. Just covered in dust, like everything else in this city.

"This should be everything," I say, pulling the straps over my shoulders. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Then... we'll see about that cure. If it's even possible."

Virgil watches me carefully, his expression unreadable. "Yes, I understand. Family is everything." His voice drops lower, heavier. "But be wary of his creations. They roam the streets. Mindless. Ruthless. Beasts. But... they were human."

I swallow hard, nodding. "Sure."

I turn toward the exit, but before I can take another step, a firm grip catches my shoulder.

"Mr. Spider."

I stop.

Virgil hesitates, his fingers tightening slightly before he lets go. "Your blood... and the chemical formula Norman created. It started all of this." His voice is steady, but there's a weight behind it. "So you have to stay alive. This city needs you."

He pauses, then reaches into his coat. "One more thing."

I watch as he pulls out a small device, pressing it into my hand. I turn it over, studying the smooth metal casing, the faint seams along the edges.

"What is it?" I ask, squinting at it.

"Press the button on the side," Virgil explains. "It emits a frequency—high-pitched, painful. The Goblins have sharp hearing, sharper than almost any living thing. It helps them hunt... but it can also be used against them."

I nod, slipping it into my bag. "How many uses?"

Virgil exhales. "Not many. Use it wisely."

I sling my bag over my shoulder. "Got it."

As I turn to leave, his voice follows me.

"Be careful, Mr. Spider."

I don't respond. I don't even look at him. I just shrug off his hand and keep walking, my footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.

When I push open the rusted door, I'm hit with sunlight. But it's not warm. It's harsh. The kind of light that exposes the scars, the damage, the rot.

If I'm really going to do this—find Dr. Octavius, track down Connors—I need to be prepared.

First, a new suit.

Then, some spare web cartridges at home.

Then, the hospital where Aunt May was being kept.

If the city really went to hell, maybe the sick were evacuated first. Maybe they made it out.

Or maybe I'm just feeding myself false hope.

The moment I step into the open air, the stench hits me. It's worse than I remember, and considering this is New York, that's saying something. Smoke clogs the sky, thick and black, swirling up from the hollowed-out remains of buildings. Streets that were once choked with honking taxis and tourists are now littered with burnt-out cars and bodies left to decay.

I leap onto the roof of an abandoned cab, my eyes scanning the horizon. Nothing but ruin in every direction. A skyline of destruction.

A deep, bitter anger churns in my gut.

I exhale sharply, clenching my fists.

"Is this really the world you wanted, Norman?"

I already know the answer. And it makes me sick.

Then, without wanting a guttural snarl shatters the silence.

I stiffen, instincts kicking in before my brain fully processes what I'm hearing. A low, wet growl—feral and hungry. The scrape of claws against pavement.

I turn my head slowly.

There, crouched atop an overturned bus, it's a Goblin...

Not Norman.

But one of his creations.

Its skin is mottled green, veins bulging beneath its grotesquely twisted muscles. Its face—if you could even call it that—is a nightmare of exposed teeth, jagged and broken, saliva dripping from its oversized maw. Its eyes are sunken but glowing with a sickly yellow light, locked onto me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.

Then, it screams again.

A raw, piercing howl that echoes through the ruins. A war cry. A warning.

My pulse spikes, but I don't move.

My first fight in five months.

I shift my stance, rolling my shoulders. My muscles feel tight, my limbs stiff from too much time lying in a damn hospital bed. I can already tell—I'm slower. Sloppier. My body hasn't seen action since before the coma.

The Goblin stands hunched, clawed fingers twitching, breath ragged. Its yellowed eyes lock onto me. Then it charges.

I brace myself. No suit. No webs. Just me.

It swipes fast. I jerk back—too slow. Claws rake my shoulder, shoving me sideways. Pain flares, but I stay on my feet. If I go down, I won't get up fast enough.

It lunges again. This time, I duck, twisting as its claws slice the air. My muscles scream—I'm stiff, sluggish. Five months asleep stole my speed.

But not my strength.

I drive my fist into its ribs. The impact sends it stumbling, not far, but enough. It snarls, crouching low, ready to pounce.

I shift left—just enough to bait it. The second it lunges, I pivot right, grabbing my backpack and swinging hard. The weight slams into its skull. The Goblin reels, dazed. I don't stop. I ram my knee into its gut, knocking it back further.

Then I see it—a bent street sign, half-ripped from the ground.

I shove the Goblin with everything I have. It stumbles, foot catching on the metal. For a split second, it teeters. Then it crashes, limbs tangled in twisted steel.

It thrashes, snarling, but the more it fights, the more stuck it gets.

Chest heaving, I step back. My shoulder throbs, but I won. "Okay, just a few hundred thousand to go." I say, slightly out of breath.

The Goblin glares up at me, pure rage in its eyes. But beneath it, something flickers—something human.

I force myself to turn away.

I still have a long way to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can you hurry up?" Felicia huffs, arms crossed as she watches Kraven tighten the last of the bandages around Connor's arm.

The hunter smirks, ignoring her impatience. "You speak as if you have somewhere to be."

Connor winces as Kraven pulls the wrap taut, sucking in a sharp breath. "Yeah, uh... thanks. But, uh—aren't you that supervillain who fought Spider-Man? Why are you... you know, helping?"

Kraven's smirk lingers as he retrieves a spear from the wall, running a finger along its sharp edge. "I fought your hero. That does not make me a bad man."

Felicia scoffs. "No, but taking an entire school hostage definitely does."

Kraven chuckles, unbothered. "Yes. Perhaps so." He twirls the spear in his hands before suddenly pointing the tip toward Felicia. She doesn't flinch, but her muscles tighten. "Now tell me, girl... why does this place stink of him?"

Felicia keeps her face neutral, refusing to give anything away. "How the hell should I know?"

Kraven studies her, his dark eyes gleaming. He knows she's lying. Knows something is being kept from him. But instead of pressing, he simply exhales, resting the butt of his spear against the floor. "I've treated the boy. My debt is paid. This will be the last time we meet."

"Wait." Felicia bites her lip, then forces herself to speak. "We need your help."

Kraven raises a brow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"No, we don't."

Gwen's voice cuts through the room as she descends the stairs, her grip tight on the railing. Her heart pounds against her ribs. She knows she's right, but saying it out loud makes it real.

Felicia turns, exasperated. "Yes. We do. Taking May across the city ourselves is a death wish. At the very least, this guy and his overgrown green dog could get us there faster."

Gwen reaches the bottom step, eyes locking onto Kraven. Her chest tightens at the sight of him—the man who once took their school hostage, who treated their lives like a game. "You're right. I know you are. But not from him. He's a monster. Maybe just as bad as those things outside."

Kraven grins. "I think I'm prettier."

Felicia ignores him, stepping closer. "Look, we need a deal. You help us, we help you."

Kraven tilts his head. "Help me? Do you take me for some mercenary?"

Felicia crosses her arms. "You said the greatest hunt of all is still out there. But Spider-Man's—" She swallows. "He's gone."

Kraven's grin fades slightly. He cracks his jaw, rolling his shoulders. "The man who killed the Spider. The Green Goblin."

Silence suffocates the room. None of them want to speak the name of the man who turned their world into hell.

Felicia breaks it. "If it's the Goblin you want, maybe I can help."

Kraven's eyes glint with amusement. "And what could you possibly offer? Yourself as bait?"

Felicia doesn't flinch. "I know who he is. Maybe even where he is."

That gets his attention. He watches her now, truly studying her.

Felicia stands her ground. "You help us, I give you a name. After that, he's all yours."

Connor shifts uncomfortably. "Are we really doing this? Asking him for help?"

Felicia throws up a hand. "He's in this for sport. If he wanted us dead, we'd be dead."

Kraven turns his back to them. "And how do I know you tell the truth? If you had such knowledge, wouldn't your law enforcement have liked to know?"

Felicia hesitates. "It's... complicated."

She feels Gwen's stare burning into the back of her head. Gwen wanted to know why it seemed there were things Felicia knew about all of this that she didn't, why it even felt that way when...Peter was around.

"You help us, I help you," Felicia says firmly. "And if I am lying, you know exactly where to find me."

Kraven says nothing. The room is heavy with tension.

Then—

A car horn blares outside.

The four of them turn as the sound spirals into a metallic crunch. Kraven moves to the window, his expression unreadable. Felicia shoves past him just in time to see the massive, monstrous shape of his creature perched atop a crushed car.

Her stomach drops. "You've got to be shitting me." She glares at Kraven. "Isn't that your pet? Go make it stop!"

Kraven watches for a moment longer—then, calmly, he shuts the blinds. "It's too late for that."

Felicia barely has time to process his words before he turns, grabs the couch, and hurls it against the door.

"If you wish to live long enough to strike a deal," he says, "barricade every entrance."

Felicia doesn't hesitate. She rushes toward the back door, yanking a heavy shelf down with her. "Don't just stand there—help me!"

Connor and Gwen snap into action, dragging furniture across the room.

"Is this even going to be enough?" Connor stammers. "I—I don't think—"

"You wanna cry about it or do something?!" Felicia snaps. She runs to the kitchen, yanks open a drawer, and grabs the largest knife she can find. She tosses one to Gwen. Then another to Connor.

Kraven smirks. "I like your haste, girl. But it will not be enough."

Felicia spins on him, pointing. "This is your fault! Your little goblin freak is about to get us all killed!"

Gwen's voice cuts through the rising panic. "We have to hide May."

Then—

The screaming begins.

The ground rumbles.

For a split second, the entire room is frozen.

A slow, creeping grin spreads across Kraven's face. He grips his spear.

"They're coming."

The first goblin crashes through the window in a spray of glass, its grotesque form a blend of sinew and madness. The sound is deafening—shrieks, claws scraping against the walls, the crunch of shattered furniture under its twisted limbs.

"Those barricades are useless!" Kraven bellows, twirling his spear as if this is some great game. "Be prepared to fight, or die where you stand!"

Felicia barely has time to react as the front door bursts inward, hinges snapping. Another goblin barrels through, its maw stretching wide in a guttural scream.

"Fuckin' freaky things." Felicia yells, gripping her knife so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She ducks as the first goblin lunges at her, its claws grazing her shoulder. The sting of the scratch sends her heart racing, but she plants her feet and slashes upward.

The knife catches its arm, black ichor splattering across her face.

Connor screams behind her as one of the creatures barrels toward him. "Gwen, help him!" Felicia shouts, but she's already being shoved back against the wall.

The goblin snarls, its breath rancid as it snaps its jagged teeth inches from her face. Felicia kicks upward with everything she has, her boot slamming into its gut.

It stumbles back, only to swipe at her with claws like daggers. The sharp tips rip through her jacket sleeve, narrowly missing flesh.

"Felicia, duck!"

She doesn't question the voice—just drops. A kitchen stool sails over her head, slamming into the goblin's face. The creature reels, momentarily stunned. She looks back to see Connor, panting, gripping another stool like his life depends on it.

"Nice one, dude!" she yells, scrambling to her feet.

The praise makes him hesitate, his face flushing for just a moment—long enough for another goblin to crash into the room. This one is larger, its elongated limbs bending unnaturally as it lumbers toward them.

"Connor, move!" she screams, shoving him out of the way as the goblin lunges. It grabs her by the leg, claws digging into her jeans as it drags her toward the shattered window.

"I fucking hate these things!" Felicia thrashes, stabbing downward with her knife. The blade buries into the creature's shoulder, but it doesn't stop. Her body scrapes against broken glass, her breaths coming in panicked gasps.

Connor's voice cuts through the chaos. "Hold on!"

Felicia twists, just in time to see him slam the kitchen stool into the goblin's head with a sickening crack. It howls, releasing her, and she kicks herself free, scrambling to her feet.

Their eyes meet for a split second—his wide with terror, hers blazing with adrenaline. For a moment, neither speaks. Then Connor holds out a trembling hand, helping her up.

"Thanks," she mutters, her voice breathless.

He nods, his face still red, before grabbing a knife off the counter.

Gwen's voice cuts through the noise. "May is completely vulnerable up there."

Felicia grabs Connor by the arm. "Go upstairs and help her—now!"

A deafening crash shakes the house as Kraven laughs, his spear impaling a goblin against the wall. Black ichor pools at his feet as he yanks the weapon free, spinning to face another with glee in his eyes. "I can't remember the last time I felt such a thrill!" he roars, slicing through another with almost surgical precision.

But even Kraven can see it—the creatures just keep coming. For every one he kills, two more take its place.

"This is pointless!" Felicia shouts, her voice breaking.

"Nonsense!" Kraven grins, blood dripping from his weapon. "This is the thrill of survival!"

"Easy for you to say," Gwen spits, clutching her knife. "We don't kill things for a living."

Another goblin smashes through a side window, its claws skittering across the tile as it lunges toward Gwen. She stumbles back, raising her knife, but the blade shakes in her grip.

"Gwen!" Felicia shouts, grabbing the nearest thing she can—a cast iron skillet—and hurling it. The goblin jerks back as the skillet slams into its head, giving Gwen the chance to plunge her knife into its chest.

It screams, convulsing, before collapsing in a heap. Gwen stares at the body, her breath hitching. She stares at her hands, the sticky blood covering them completely. Something about having to kill these things...didn't sit right with her.

"Okay, nice kill." Felicia says, yanking her toward the kitchen. "But we're not out of this yet."

Kraven plants his spear into the floor, his grin finally fading. "There is no end to this," he mutters, almost to himself.

Felicia turns to him, her voice desperate. "Then what the hell do we do?"

Kraven looks at her, his expression unreadable. For the first time, he doesn't have an answer.

The screaming outside grows louder, closer. The goblins aren't just attacking—they're surrounding the house, closing in.

The walls trembled as the goblins slammed against them, their guttural snarls and screeches reverberating through the house like an unrelenting storm.

"We can't hold them here!" Felicia shouted, her voice barely cutting through the chaos. "Upstairs, now!"

Kraven pivoted sharply, ramming the blunt end of his spear into a goblin's chest as it lunged at him. The creature collapsed to the floor, writhing, but he silenced it with a quick jab to the skull. His voice boomed, commanding and sharp. "Move! I'll make sure these creatures don't come after us!"

Connor grabbed Gwen's arm, pulling her toward the staircase. She stumbled over scattered debris but caught herself on the railing, her knife slipping from her trembling hand. Behind them, Kraven held the line, swinging his spear in a wide arc that sent another goblin crashing into the wall.

Felicia froze, glancing back at the hunter, torn between helping and fleeing. Kraven fixed her with a glare. "You won't help them by standing there. Get your ass moving!"

Clenching her jaw, she kicked a chair into an advancing goblin to buy herself a second and then bolted up the stairs after the others.

The house groaned under the assault as they reached the second floor. Connor pushed open the door to May's room, his hands shaking as he ushered the others inside. "Barricade it! Now!"

Gwen shoved the dresser toward the door, its legs screeching against the wooden floor. Felicia grabbed a chair, wedging it beneath the doorknob. The door rattled violently as the goblins pounded on it, their claws scraping and tearing at the wood.

Kraven appeared moments later, blood and ichor streaking his arms. His chest heaved, but his grin hadn't faltered. He slammed the door shut behind him, planting his spear into the floor to brace it. "They're tenacious, I'll give them that," he muttered, a dark amusement lacing his voice.

The pounding at the door grew louder, the frame beginning to splinter under the onslaught. Dust fell from the ceiling with each thunderous blow.

"That door won't last," Gwen said, her voice trembling as her eyes darted around the room in search of more to fortify it.

Felicia turned to Kraven, frustration and fear etched across her face. "What now? We can't just sit here and wait for them to break through!"

Kraven's sharp gaze swept over the room, calculating. His eyes lingered on the windows, the furniture, and finally, on May, lying motionless in her bed.

"We need to give them something to focus on. Something to distract them," he said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

The room fell silent as the meaning of his words sank in. Felicia's expression darkened, and she stepped forward, placing herself between Kraven and May. "You really are insane if you think I'd let you do that to her."

Gwen moved to her side, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I knew you couldn't be trusted. We—We should've left you down there..."

Kraven smirked, his fingers curling around the shaft of his spear. "You misunderstand me, girls. I am not a cruel man, but survival often demands cruelty. This is a simple equation: bait the beasts, or be overrun."

"Then we fight them," Felicia shot back, her voice wavering but resolute. "All of us. Together. But you're not laying a hand on her."

The hunter's grin widened, his amusement palpable. "Brave. Foolish, but brave."

Behind them, the doorframe began to splinter. The goblins were breaking through.

Kraven exhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as if the weight of the moment had finally settled on him. "We don't have much time," he said, his voice quieter than before. "I'm sorry it has to be this way."

Felicia stiffened, positioning herself protectively in front of May's bed. Her mind raced, calculating her next move. If she could just buy a few seconds, maybe—just maybe—Gwen and Connor could get May out through the window. But even then, with those creatures swarming outside, their odds were slim.

Her heart pounded as she tightened her grip on the knife in her hand, her eyes locked on Kraven. In moments like this, the fear clawing at her chest, she couldn't help but wonder... What would Peter do?

Before she could act, a shrill, piercing sound tore through the house, cutting through the chaos like a razor. The goblins' snarls turned into anguished howls, their claws scrabbling against the walls and door suddenly falling still as they recoiled from the noise.

Gwen clamped her hands over her ears, wincing. "W-What is that?" she stammered, her voice barely audible over the screeching tone.

Felicia felt a bead of sweat trailing down her face, as she turned to Gwen. "I don't know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound is louder than I expect, sharp and piercing, cutting through the night like a blade. The emitter vibrates in my hand, humming with power, and I can't help but smirk. Virgil really did his homework. The moment I hit the button, the goblins drop like flies, their shrieks echoing in the air. Some writhe on the ground, others stumble over each other, and a few bolt, fleeing into the shadows like their lives depend on it.

"Easiest infiltration job ever," I mutter, lowering the device.

But something feels wrong. Why would all these things be here? Aunt May's cooking is good, but I doubt they're here for leftovers. So, does that mean someone's actually inside?

I crouch behind the wrecked car, watching the last of the goblins scatter into the darkness. My heart pounds as I stare at the house. It's a mess—broken windows, shattered wood, absolute chaos. Aunt May would have a fit seeing the place like this. Then again, maybe she'd be relieved—an excuse to finally fix that squeaky door she always complains about. The thought makes me smile, even now.

But I don't have time to dwell on it. If someone's in there, I need to know who. I move carefully, making my way toward the front door. My stomach twists when I see the carnage—splintered furniture, shattered glass, and... dead goblins. There was a fight here. But who won?

I creep up the stairs, listening for any sign of life. Then I hear it—voices. Faint, coming from Aunt May's room.

"...I'm not sure why they stopped. Does that mean it's safe? Y—You can stop now!"

"I'm afraid I don't take threats lightly. Only moments ago, you girls were prepared to kill me. It seems trust is lost between us all."

Girls? Kill? What the—

"Kraven, don't do this! There's no point in just—"

Kraven. That's all I need to hear. My blood boils, and I don't even think—I just act. I burst into the room, my fist already swinging. I hit him square in the back, sending him flying through the wall. He crashes outside, the sound of splintering wood and stone echoing through the house. For a moment, the room is silent.

Then I turn, and my heart nearly stops.

"Pe-Peter?" Felicia's voice is barely above a whisper, her hands trembling as they cover her mouth.

"There's... no way..." Gwen breathes, her wide eyes filling with tears.

I can't move. I can't speak. They're here. They're alive. And just behind them... May. My chest tightens, and tears burn my eyes. I'm not sure what to say, what to do. It feels like everything I've been holding onto just... releases.

Before I can react, Gwen rushes forward, throwing her arms around me. "I knew it!" she cries into my chest, her grip so tight it almost hurts. "I knew it, Peter! I knew it! I—I knew it!" Her voice cracks as she says it over and over again, her fingers digging into my arms. "You always come back."

I hold her just as tightly, my own tears spilling over. "I-I'd never leave you. Never." My voice shakes as I try to steady myself. "You have no idea how scared I was, thinking something might've happened to you."

"Peter..." She looks up at me, her face streaked with tears. "I felt the same way. Thinking you were... gone. Not knowing if you were alive or dead... that was the worst part. But now you're here. Everything's okay. Everything."

She's right. Despite everything—this moment, right here—it's perfect.

Felicia steps forward slowly, her tough exterior gone. Her eyes shimmer with tears, and for a second, she just stares at me. I expect her to slap me, maybe call me an idiot for going off alone, but instead, her voice cracks. "I—I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" I ask, pulling away from Gwen to face her.

"I let you go that night. I should've stopped you... gone with you... something." She looks away, her face full of guilt. "Gwen never gave up, but me? I... I thought you were dead. And if I'd gone with you, maybe—"

"Felicia, stop." I cut her off, my voice firm but soft. "If you'd come with me, we both would've died. And then who would've kept May safe? Who would've looked out for Gwen?" I glance at Gwen, who's watching silently, and then back to Felicia. "You've been taking care of them. Of her. That's something I'll never be able to repay."

Felicia's cheeks flush, and for once, she looks... vulnerable. "I'd never let anything happen to them. Or you. Just... stop running off and disappearing for long periods of time."

I smile at her sincerity. "Don't worry. I'm sticking around this time. See what I did there?"

Felicia scoffs, a smile forming on her face. "Yeah, still corny as shit. But...I've definitely missed that."

I grin, but then my eyes land on the guy awkwardly standing beside her, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh... I'm Peter. And you are?"

"Connor," he says, glancing toward the hole in the wall. "Nice to meet you. And, uh... how the hell did you do that? You punched that guy out of the house. That's... not normal...is it?"

"He's right," Gwen says, stepping forward, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "Peter... how did you do that?"

"Adrenaline?" I try with a weak smile. It's clear she's not buying it.

Felicia sighs, grabbing Connor by the arm and dragging him toward the door. "We're going to check outside. Make sure it's all clear."

Connor hesitates, peeking out the hole. "Uh... guys? Kraven's gone."

Gone? My chest tightens, but Felicia just waves it off, ushering him out. "We'll talk later, Peter," she says firmly. Then, with a knowing glance back at me, she adds, "You and Gwen need to talk."

She's right. It's time to stop dodging the questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room is still. Aunt May sleeps soundly beside me, her hand warm and fragile in mine. I squeeze it gently, watching her peaceful face, and a tiny part of me allows itself to feel relief. She's safe. For now, at least.

"So," Gwen says, breaking the silence, her voice soft but curious. "Are you going to tell me where you've been, or do I have to guess?"

I glance at her, my lips twitching into a small smile. I can already see the storm of questions brewing behind her eyes, a thousand things she's probably been dying to ask me. "Alright," I say with a sigh. "But if I'm going to tell you, I need to start from the top."

"Waiting, Parker," she teases, nudging me lightly, her signature smirk tugging at her lips.

I take a deep breath. My heart pounds in my chest. Is this the right time? The right way? What if this changes everything? What if she looks at me differently?

But then I meet her eyes—those clear, blue eyes full of trust and warmth—and I know. Gwen wouldn't betray me. She wouldn't turn away. She deserves to know the truth.

"I'm Spider-Man," I say, the words spilling out before I can stop myself.

Her expression shifts slightly, her brows furrowing as she processes what I just said. She breaks eye contact for a moment, and I feel my stomach drop. But then she looks back up at me, tilting her head with a small, almost amused smile.

"That's... honestly not that surprising," she says, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I blink, caught off guard. "Uh... huh?"

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "Looking back, I guess I should've figured it out. All those times you showed up to school with bruises you couldn't explain, or disappeared right when something crazy happened? It adds up."

I let out a small, nervous laugh. "It wasn't easy lying to you. To everyone. But I had to—"

"Peter." She reaches out, placing her hand over mine, squeezing gently. "I get it. You were protecting me. Protecting everyone close to you."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "That's part of it, yeah. But I was scared, too. I was terrified of how people would look at me if they knew. Of how you'd look at me."

Her expression softens, her gaze searching mine. "Peter... what happened with my dad..." Her voice catches, and I can hear the faint tremble in it. "That wasn't your fault. My dad always used to say Spider-Man was dangerous, that you acted without accountability. But after what happened with Mr. Octavius, after you saved all of us... he started to see you differently. He would talk highly of you. He still thought you were reckless, but I could tell he respected you. Almost like he looked up to you."

Her words hit me hard. "That's crazy," I manage, my voice shaking. "I mean I was the one who looked up to him. Your dad... he was a real hero. No powers, no fancy suit—just his courage. He gave everything to save that boy. Everything."

Tears glisten in Gwen's eyes, and she looks down at her lap, nodding. "He was a hero. But so are you, Peter. You're my hero. And if he were here now... he'd feel the same way. He wouldn't blame you for what happened."

The weight I've been carrying for so long suddenly feels lighter. I chuckle shakily, wiping at my eyes. "I didn't expect you to say that. Thank you, Gwen."

She leans forward and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the comfort of her presence. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I've done something right.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "For everything."

Her words nearly undo me. I've spent so long feeling like I've failed everyone, but Gwen believes in me. She always has. She pulls back slightly, her face inches from mine, and then she kisses me. It's soft, warm, and everything I've missed.

When she pulls away, she smiles. "I really missed doing that."

I grin. "I really missed you doing that."

She laughs softly, and the sound fills the room, pushing away the shadows. "Now," she says, nudging me, "how about you tell me where you've been?"

So I do. I tell her everything—about Norman Osborn and the chaos he's unleashed, about the villains he's manipulated and created, about Harry being caught in the crossfire. I tell her how Norman left me for dead, and how I spent five months in a coma, cared for by a man named Virgil. As I speak, I see the worry in her eyes, the way she clenches her hands as if trying to hold back her fear.

When I finish, she's quiet for a moment. "That's... a lot," she finally says. "But you really think you can fix this? That things can go back to the way they were?"

I nod. "I have to believe that. For all of us."

She squeezes my hand. "Then I believe it too."

Before I can say anything else, the door swings open. Felicia leans against the frame, her arms crossed. "Things are clear downstairs. That guy, Connor? He's passed out in your bed. Figured it was fine for now. You two done with your little heart-to-heart?"

I glance at Gwen, who smiles warmly. "Yeah. And... she knows."

Felicia lets out a breath, almost like a sigh of relief. "About time. I was getting tired of covering for you."

Gwen raises an eyebrow. "Wait. You knew?"

Felicia smirks. "For a while now."

Gwen's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and mock offense. "So all those times Peter disappeared or got hurt, you knew what was going on and didn't tell me?"

"I begged her to keep it a secret," I interject quickly. "She figured it out that day we were at karaoke, and she's been helping me ever since."

Felicia shrugs, stepping into the room. "It's not like it was fun for me. You think I didn't want to tell you? Or that it didn't kill me every time I thought Peter might actually be dead?"

Gwen's expression softens, and she gives a small laugh. "Okay, okay. I guess I can let it slide. But I would've liked to be in on your little club. I've read enough comics to know I'd make a great 'girl in the chair.'"

Felicia snorts. "Trust me, it's not as fun as it sounds."

Gwen turns back to me. "So, what now?"

"I've got a plan to turn everyone back," I start. "But it's going to take—"

"Wait," Felicia cuts in, her tone suddenly sharp. "What do you mean 'turn them back'? Turn who back?"

I hesitate, realizing I haven't told them the worst part. "Felicia... those goblins? They're people. They're the ones who took the goblin pill."

Felicia's face pales, and for a moment, she's silent. I know what she's thinking. I saw the bodies downstairs. "You didn't know," I say gently. "And even if you did, you didn't have a choice."

"I know," she mutters, her voice tight. "I know."

The room falls quiet. Finally, Felicia takes a deep breath and straightens. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. I'm getting some sleep." She turns and walks out without another word.

Gwen looks at me, worry etched on her face. "You should go talk to her."

"Yeah." I squeeze her hand, then stand. "I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sun spills through the window, warming my face and dragging me back to the land of the living. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the golden light, but somehow, I still feel exhausted.

Which is kind of ridiculous, considering I just spent five months in a coma.

I blink a few times, and that's when I see her. Gwen.

She's barely a breath away from me, her face relaxed, peaceful in sleep. For a moment, everything else—the city in ruins, the nightmares waiting outside—fades into the background. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I'd woken up in heaven.

I smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, because that's a thing people do in movies, and—yeah, I don't know. It just feels right.

But then, like a slap to the face, the guilt creeps in.

She shouldn't have to be here. She shouldn't have to wake up to this mess, to a world that's crumbling, to a boyfriend who keeps dragging her into hell with him.

Stop it, Parker. Not the time for one of your famous self-loathing sessions.

I carefully untangle myself from the bed, making sure not to wake her. After checking on May—still resting, still safe—I slip out of the room.

Downstairs, I find Felicia picking up the wreckage of what used to be a living room. The place is surprisingly cleaner than most high school house parties, which is saying something.

"You don't have to do that," I tell her, watching as she sweeps up shattered glass with steady, deliberate movements. "Not like we're gonna be hosting any dinner parties anytime soon."

She doesn't respond. Just keeps working, her expression unreadable.

"Felicia?"

Silence.

I step closer. "Hey—"

She flinches at my touch. Just for a second. Just enough for me to notice.

"S-Sorry," I say, pulling my hand back.

"No, it's fine," she replies quickly. Too quickly. "I just... got lost in my own head."

I offer a small smile. "It's really good to see you again."

She finally looks up at me, gripping the broom like it's the only thing keeping her grounded. "Yeah," she says softly. "Good to see you too. I... I thought that after everything, after all the times you ran headfirst into danger or just vanished—that I'd get used to it. But I never do. It always feels like you're never coming back."

I try to lighten the mood. "Wow, you really have so little faith in me, huh?"

She scoffs. "That's not what I meant, dumbass."

Her voice drops to something quieter, more fragile.

"It's just... you're good, Peter. Stupidly good. Noble, selfless, brave. The kind of person who puts the entire city before himself, even when it breaks you. You're—" She stops, shaking her head. "I don't even know what I'm saying right now."

I step closer, nudging her with my elbow. "No, no, please—go on about how amazing I am. Really, I don't mind."

She rolls her eyes but cracks a smile, and for a second, it feels like old times.

"It feels like a lifetime ago," she murmurs, staring at the broken floorboards. "The night I found you stumbling down the street, covered in blood and scratches. God, you were such a weirdo. What did you even say? That it was—what? Method acting?"

I groan. "Okay, to be fair, I had just gotten my ass kicked by a giant lizard. I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

Felicia chuckles, but then her expression shifts—just a little. Like there's something else sitting on the edge of her tongue, something she's not sure she wants to say.

Then, after a beat, she twirls a piece of her brown hair around her finger and bites her lip, looking almost... nervous.

"I'm glad it was you," she says finally. "Who walked his bloody ass into my life."

I blink.

That... that was unexpectedly sweet.

I grin. "I like when you get all sentimental. Makes you seem a whole lot less scary."

And there it is—the sharp glare, the one that could probably cut glass. "And there it is—the moment ruined. God, I try to have a real moment with you, and you just have to say something stupid."

"Part of my charm," I say with a shrug.

Felicia sighs, then takes a step closer. Before I can even think about what's happening, she leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek.

My brain promptly malfunctions.

"Uh—uh—uh—" I stammer, pointing weakly toward the stairs. "Girlfriend—remember? Blonde, smart, upstairs?"

Felicia smirks. "Relax, Parker. That wasn't for me."

I frown. "Then... what was it for?"

She steps back, tossing the broom aside like she's done with this whole conversation.

"For coming back."