Spider-Man: Web Of Lies

THE air is tense, the sudden shift in atmosphere making it feel like we've just walked into a trap. I glance back at Felicia, her usual cool exterior cracking just a bit as the alarms continue to blare around us.

"Great," she mutters, her voice laced with frustration. "Just what we needed."

I open my phone, wondering if Harry texted me about if they were planning on having some sort of drill or something.

But there's no signal...is that normal for a lockdown? No, obviously not.

"We should get back to the others," I whisper urgently. Felicia nods, and we slip out into the hallway, moving fast but careful.

When we reach the doors leading back to the cafeteria, I freeze.

Voices—muffled but tense—drift from the other side. I motion for Felicia to stay quiet and slowly crack the door open, peeking through the small gap. She ducks under my arm, pressing her head next to mine to get a better view.

A man's voice cuts through the room, cold and commanding. "Don't move. Won't get killed. How's that work for you? I just need you all to be my...well...hostages for a little bit, until I figure out how to get this security system down."

I hear the heavy, metallic clank of his boots as he walks between the terrified students. I recognize him immediately. My stomach tightens.

"It's him," I whisper. "The bird guy."

Felicia shifts beside me, glancing at the scene beyond the door. Everyone's on the floor, shaking as he stalks through the room, exuding a terrifyingly calm demeanor. Felicia gives me a sideways glance.

"That doesn't look anything like a bird, Peter."

"Uh... hello? Bird wings?" I gesture vaguely toward him.

Felicia arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "More like a vulture. You can tell by the that like beak mask thing he's wearing, and the feather pattern on his wings."

I blink at her, momentarily thrown. "How do you—?"

"I watch a lot of Animal Planet," she mutters with a shrug. But her tone doesn't match her usual sarcasm.

My mind races. Why is he here? Did he track me down? Does he know who I am? I squint at the Vulture, trying to gauge his intentions, but there's nothing clear in his movements—just a predatory calm.

"I just need to grab something," the "Vulture" guy says, his voice low but firm. "And I'll be out of your hair. Shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Ms. Winterhalter's voice trembles from the corner of the room. She's shielding a terrified girl with her arm. "Please, whatever you do, don't hurt these children. They have nothing to do with what you want. We'll comply, but please... don't hurt them."

The Vulture gives a short, almost dismissive laugh. "Don't worry. Like I told you, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want—well I'm not gonna tell you what I want but just know it doesn't involve killing kids." His tone doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but at least for now, no one's being hurt.

I feel a small wave of relief wash over me, but the question still lingers—if he's not here for Spider-Man, what is he after? Mr. Osborn? Is this about Oscorp?

"Hey, Peter," Felicia whispers, nudging me with her elbow. "Don't you think it's time to suit up?" She mimics shooting webs from her wrist.

"I want to," I whisper back, anxiety creeping into my voice, "but my bag's still over at the table." I glance toward the far side of the cafeteria, where my backpack sits, completely out of reach. "And even if I did suit up, it's too risky. This would be the third time Spider-Man's saved these students. Someone would start putting the pieces together. If they figure out Spider-Man goes to Midtown High—figure out it's me—everyone I care about will be in danger."

Felicia's eyes soften slightly. "So what, you're just gonna sit this one out?"

My mind flashes to Gwen, to Harry, to all the students lying on the floor, vulnerable. I can't let him hurt anyone. But if I blow my cover now...

Before I can finish weighing my options, the cafeteria doors burst open with a deafening crash. Armed guards storm into the room, rifles raised, their movements swift and coordinated.

The Vulture straightens, turning toward the new threat, his mechanical wings twitching slightly. His calm demeanor shifts into something colder, more calculating.

Not good.

"Stay low," I hiss to Felicia, already searching for another plan, another way to stop this without blowing my identity.

The moment the guards storm in, the room explodes into chaos. I freeze, eyes locked on the Vulture as he turns toward them, a wicked gleam in his eyes. His wings flare out—sharp, metallic, and deadly.

"Stand down!" one of the guards shouts, but I know it's useless. The Vulture doesn't even flinch. His body crouches, tensing like a coiled spring, and then—boom—he rockets into the air, wings slicing through the air with a deadly hiss.

Chairs and tables scatter as if they weigh nothing, and the guards start shooting, but their bullets might as well be spitballs for all the good they're doing.

I barely have time to blink before the first guard goes down, the Vulture's talons sinking into his chest with a wet crunch. The guy lets out a scream that rips through the cafeteria, echoing in my ears as the Vulture spins him around and slams him into a pillar, his body crumpling like a rag doll. Blood splatters across the floor.

I feel my stomach churn, but I can't look away.

The other guards try to regroup, but they don't stand a chance. The Vulture swoops down, wings outstretched like some demon bird of prey, catching two of them in a single brutal sweep.

One guy's leg is almost severed, blood spraying everywhere as he collapses. The other? He's thrown back so hard I hear his bones crack from across the room.

The cafeteria fills with screams—the students, Ms. Winterhalter's, everyone watching in horror as the Vulture rips through the guards.

There's nothing anyone can do. He grabs one by the throat, lifts him into the air, and snaps his neck like he's breaking a twig. His wings slice through another guard, leaving nothing but blood and mangled limbs behind.

It's a massacre.

I stand there, fists clenched, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it's going to explode.

I want to move. I need to move. But I don't. I can't. Not like this. If I suit up, if I stop him as Spider-Man, everyone will know. Gwen, Harry—everyone. It'll all be over. They'll figure out who I am, and that puts them in danger.

But watching this... watching him tear people apart?

It's tearing me apart.

The Vulture lands in the middle of the carnage, blood dripping from his wings, calm and collected like he's admiring his handiwork.

The guards? All dead or dying. And the students... I can feel their terror. See it in their eyes. They're just kids. We're just kids.

But I'm standing here, doing nothing.

My hands shake, fury boiling inside me. I could stop this right now. I could end him. But I can't. Not without giving everything away. And then everyone I care about...

But maybe... maybe I don't have to do this as Spider-Man.

I glance at the Vulture's suit, those wings. They're fast, too fast for anyone here to deal with, but they're mechanical.

Powered by tech. My brain clicks into overdrive. There's got to be a weakness. Something I can use. The suit, the wings, the power... there's always a flaw in the design.

I lock my gaze on the small power source attached to his back. That's it. The suit's running off some kind of external power pack. If I can disable it, even for a second, it might be enough to take him down.

Felicia gives me a concerned look but doesn't push it.

I scan the room, thinking. Fast. Oscorp. In the tour earlier they showed us they were working on some kind of electromagnetic pulse tech, something for emergencies.

Portable, too. If I can get my hands on one of those prototypes... I might be able to fry his suit, just for long enough to get the upper hand. But where?

"Stay here," I whisper to Felicia, not waiting for a response.

I take off, racing down the hallway we came from, my footsteps pounding in sync with my racing thoughts. I jump through a vent, crawling back through until I enter one of the hallways we'd been in earlier on the tour, my mind flicks through everything we saw earlier, every room, every piece of tech.

Where could they be keeping it? Because if I don't hurry and stop him, more people are going to die.

And I'm not going to let that happen.

I move fast, sticking to the ceiling as I dart through the hallway, avoiding the groups of guards running toward the cafeteria.

They're charging headfirst into a slaughter, and I know they won't stand a chance. My heartbeat hammers in my ears, but I push the panic down. Focus. I just need to find the right tech.

I drop down silently in front of a door that reads Restricted Access—the kind of room Oscorp would hide its more experimental stuff in. Bingo. I slip inside, scanning the shelves, cables, and devices stacked in chaotic disarray.

The faint hum of electronics fills the air, and that's when I spot it—a small, handheld device that looks like it could fry tech. Perfect. An EMP, just like I thought.

I grab it, flipping it over in my hands. It's small, compact, but... limited. I frown. This thing won't take down the Vulture's suit for more than a few seconds. Not enough time. I need more power, something stronger.

I glance around the room, eyes landing on a bunch of Oscorp tech scattered across a workbench.

Tools, parts, unfinished prototypes. My mind races, pieces coming together like the puzzle Uncle Ben and I used to work on in the garage.

We used to build all kinds of stuff together—simple things, but always practical. Ben had a way of looking at scraps and turning them into something useful. I can do this. I have to do this.

I rip into the EMP, pulling out wires, capacitors, anything I can salvage. Then I start pulling parts from the other tech in the room—power supplies, amplifiers, everything I need to boost this thing.

My fingers move on their own, muscle memory kicking in from all those hours tinkering with Ben. It's almost comforting, the way it comes together. But the urgency keeps me sharp.

The screams from the cafeteria echo in my head, pushing me to work faster.

I can't let anyone else die. I can't.

Minutes blur by, and finally, the device is ready. It's bulkier than before, more powerful, but I've reinforced it enough that it should take down the Vulture's entire suit for longer than a few seconds. It's got to work.

I race back down the hall, clutching the makeshift device in my hand, and slip back into the cafeteria as quietly as I can.

The scene that greets me makes my stomach drop. The Vulture is holding one of the surviving guards by the throat, hoisting him into the air like he weighs nothing. The guy's face is turning purple, his feet kicking wildly.

"Where's Osborn?" the Vulture growls, his mechanical voice distorted by the suit. "Tell me how to unlock this security system!"

"I-I don't know!" the man chokes out, but the Vulture doesn't seem to care.

The students are huddled together, paralyzed with fear.

Gwen and Harry are among them, their eyes wide with horror. Gwen catches sight of me first, her expression one of pure confusion. I meet her gaze, trying to look as scared as they all are. It isn't hard. I am scared—scared for them, for everyone in this room. If I screw this up, it's over.

The Vulture notices me, his gaze snapping toward me. His mechanical wings hiss as they retract slightly. "Where the hell did you come from?" he asks, his grip tightening on the guard.

"I-I was in the bathroom," I stammer, trying to sound as panicked as possible. Ms. Winterhalter's voice cuts through the tension, her tone frantic.

"Peter, stay back! Get out of here!" she yells, her hand outstretched as if she could somehow pull me to safety.

I see the Vulture start to move toward me, his wings flexing as if ready to strike. I glance down at the device hidden behind my back. This is it. Now or never.

With a shaky breath, I press the button.

A low hum fills the air, and suddenly, the Vulture's suit jerks and sputters. Sparks fly from the joints of his wings as the power source cuts out. His grip on the guard loosens, and the man falls to the ground, gasping for air. The Vulture stumbles, his wings twitching, losing balance. It's working. I actually did it.

But then, just as quickly as it started, the device in my hand flickers and dies. My heart sinks. I didn't account for the power drain. It wasn't enough.

The Vulture's wings roar back to life, the mechanical hum deafening as they snap open wide. He turns toward me, his eyes narrowing through the beak-like mask.

"You little punk," he growls, taking a menacing step forward. "You're dead."

Panic surges through me. I can feel Gwen and Harry staring at me, and all I can think about is how I've just made things worse.

The Vulture's coming for me now, and my device is fried. There's no more hiding.

I crash to the ground, my back hitting hard as the Vulture's grip tightens around my collar, lifting me effortlessly off the floor. I can barely breathe as his cold, mechanical talons dig into my shirt, pinning me in place like I'm nothing.

"What did you just do to me, you little shit?" His voice is a low, dangerous growl, his mask inches from my face. I can feel the malice radiating off him, and the world around me seems to blur.

"P-Peter!" I hear Harry shout from across the room, his voice shaking. I turn my head just enough to see him standing, fists clenched, but his eyes wide with fear. "L-Let him go! I'm the son of Norman Osborn. I'm worth more to you than he is!"

No, no, no... "Ha-Harry...no," I gasp, choking on my own breath. "Don't..."

Vulture's attention shifts, and I feel the cold grip loosen. He drops me, and I collapse to the floor, wheezing, my lungs desperate for air.

"Ah... little Osborn Jr, huh?" Vulture says, turning his full focus on Harry now. His voice drips with cruel amusement as he sizes Harry up.

I know that look. It's a predator's stare, calculating, deciding how much this piece is worth on the board. Harry tries to stand tall, to hold his ground, but I can see it—the subtle tremor in his hands, the way his jaw clenches just a little too tight. He's terrified.

Vulture takes a step closer to Harry. "Then you and me are gonna go on a little trip. Won't hurt to keep you around just in case I need to start making some demands."

No. No, no, no. Not Harry.

I reach out, desperation fueling me, and grab onto one of Vulture's legs. "Don't touch him," the words barely leave my mouth, but they're all I can manage.

Vulture glances down at me, his expression unreadable behind that mask. With a flick of his arm, he yanks me up again, this time gripping me by the front of my shirt. "I don't know how you managed to mess with my suit before," He shakes me roughly. "But your friend here just saved your life. You'd take care to remember that."

Then, with a casual toss, he hurls me across the room.

I skid across the floor, my body bouncing like a rag doll, stopping only when I slam into something hard. Pain shoots through my limbs, and for a moment, everything goes black.

"Peter!" Gwen's voice cuts through the fog in my mind. She's kneeling beside me in seconds, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

I blink, trying to clear the haze. I manage to push myself up just enough to see Harry, standing alone, defiant but trembling as Vulture moves toward him.

"No..." I mutter, but it's too late.

Vulture's wings extend with a sickening whoosh, and he lunges forward, grabbing Harry in a flash. I try to get up, try to do something—anything—but I'm too slow.

"Harry!" I shout, but my voice cracks as rubble rains down from the ceiling when Vulture bursts through it, taking Harry with him. The building shakes, dust and debris falling around us, as if the world is collapsing under the weight of my failure.

Gwen pulls me up, her eyes wide and filled with panic. "Peter..."

But I can't hear her. All I can think about is how I let my best friend get taken. How I was too weak to stop it. How I failed.

"Peter, are you okay?" Ms. Winterhalter rushes over, her hands frantic as she inspects me, checking for injuries before I can even respond to Gwen. "My God, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I let this happen to you."

"Ma'am, it's okay, really, I'm fine." I try to assure her, but Gwen's voice cuts through.

"No, it's not. What were you doing? Peter, you could've been killed." Her eyes are wide with panic, and I can hear the tremor in her voice. "I... I was scared, Peter. I thought he was going too..."

"It's okay. I'm fine now." I repeat, trying to sound more confident, but the worry doesn't leave her face.

Ms. Winterhalter glances up at the ceiling, the weight of despair hanging heavily in her expression. "Harry. I let one of my students get taken on my first week as your teacher." Her voice trembles as she bites her lip, fighting back tears. "I... I couldn't do anything for him."

"Don't worry, ma'am. He won't hurt Harry." I say, hoping to calm her fears. "He needs him."

She manages a weak smile before turning back to the other students, checking to see they're okay.

"Peter, what was that thing you had?" Gwen asks, her eyes catching the device I had dropped on the ground.

I turn to see it untouched, and a wave of relief washes over me.

Thank god for stupid villains, he left it there. "It's... it's just something I found. I heard what was going on, so I thought I could help. So much for that." My voice is somber, the memory of fear on Harry's face still fresh in my mind. "But if I can find a way to give it more power, I can shut that guy's suit down long enough for one of the Oscorp guys to take him out of it and arrest him."

Gwen's eyes widen, and I can see the fear spike within her. "What do you mean? You're not planning to... go after that guy, right? I mean, that's just crazy. You can't do that; he'll kill you!"

I turn to face her fully, feeling the weight of her gaze. I can't even imagine the horror she's been through, seeing everything unravel in front of her. "I know it's dangerous, but I have to try."

"No, Peter, you can't do that. Please." Her eyes plead with me, and I feel a sharp pang in my chest. "You're just a kid. Let the police handle this."

"The police won't stop him before he gets what he wants or hurts someone else." I say, my voice steady but filled with uncertainty. "I'm scared too, Gwen. I wish there was another way, but he's got my best friend."

She looks away, her face tightening. "This is just... crazy." Her voice quakes, and I can see tears welling in her eyes. "I wish my dad were here. He'd know exactly what to do."

Yeah, I wish he was here too.

"If he were here, he'd probably do everything he could to stop that guy," I tell her, trying to comfort her, but she scoffs, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, he probably would." A small smile breaks through her tears, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

I notice Ms. Winterhalter tending to the other students, panic etched on their faces, especially her own. "Just... keep her distracted, and make sure she doesn't realize I'm gone. And you stay out of harm's way too."

"Wait, but..." Gwen begins, but I cut her off.

"I'll be fine. And so will Harry," I reassure her.

"At least let me come with you. I can... I can watch your back or something." Her determination shines through, and I can't help but smile at the brave face she's trying to put on. She's just like her dad.

"No way, that's too dangerous." I tell her, but she shakes her head fiercely.

"How do you think I feel when you say you want to go do something about that monster? You're my friend, Peter. I don't want to see you get hurt." I can see the deep concern in her eyes, and it hits me hard.

Dying now would really suck, especially when we just became friends again.

"I'm scared, okay? Really scared. I-I've never done anything like this," I feel bad for the way I'm lying, but she can't go thinking that I'm some selfless hero. "...but he's got Harry. So, I can't just sit here." I try to sound firm, but I know my voice wavers just a bit.

Gwen sighs, her shoulders slumping. "Fine, Peter. But promise me you and Harry will come back safely."

"Come on, I'm the best tutor in the world, remember?" I flash a smile, and she returns it, nudging me lightly.

"Second best," she shoots back.

I nod, feeling a warmth spreading in my chest. She hugs me tightly, and I'm caught off guard—Gwen Stacy is hugging me? Like a real hug? My face heats up faster than a microwave, and I just know if Harry were here, he'd be giving me that stupid grin of his.

"Come back," she says, pulling away, her eyes searching mine. I nod, my heart racing.

"Yeah," I reply, then rush over to the device, turning back to make sure Ms. Winterhalter doesn't notice I'm gone. I push the doors open and begin my way to the top floor, where I know the Vulture will be waiting.

I'm terrified, but I have to do this. For Harry. For Gwen. For everyone.

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

I slip out of the stairwell onto the next floor, my heart pounding as I scan the area for any sign of the Vulture. The building feels eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of chaos.

I instinctively check the ceiling for holes that the Vulture had flown up from, each one a potential clue to find out where he's taken Harry. I note a few jagged openings that suggest a battle took place above me. Looks like I'm getting closer.

As I venture further into the floors, the atmosphere shifts. This floor doesn't have a hole above it, meaning the Vulture is somewhere here.

The faint smell of smoke and metal fills the air. I creep down the hallway, and dread coils in my stomach as I pass by several bodies of Oscorp guards, their lifeless forms sprawled across the floor.

I kneel by one, hoping against hope that he's merely unconscious. I check his pulse but find nothing.

Each fallen guard I see twists the knife deeper into my heart. They never stood a chance against the Vulture.

I need something—anything—that could help power my device. I push forward, glancing into offices and rooms, desperate for a solution.

Finally, I spot a room with its door hanging ajar, the loss of power in the building allowing the darkness to swallow the space. I slip inside, my breath catching in my throat at the sight before me.

Documents clutter the desks, stacked haphazardly and spilling onto the floor. I scan them quickly: photos of the Lizard, documents outlining suit blueprints for the Scorpion, DNA samples labeled from the Rhino.

My stomach drops further as I realize these are all remnants of experiments, things I never wanted to be part of. And there, glinting in the dim light, are the Goblin pills I helped stop from being shipped out, previously associated with the Shocker.

But it's the sight of a set of mechanical arms, a lesser version of what Dr. Octavius used, that holds my attention.

Then beside that...lies a schematics folder labeled "Spider." My heart races—this is the very spider that bit me. I remember that day vividly, the curious thrill of wandering these halls with Harry, only to stumble into something that changed my life forever.

I quickly flip through a folder marked "Project Reinvention." My fingers tremble as I take pictures with my phone, realizing with each snap that Norman Osborn, or at least Oscorp, has orchestrated the chaos in my life. My mind races with implications, the weight of this knowledge pressing down on me.

I can't focus on this right now. Not right now.

I need to hurry.

I glance to the side and spot a pair of gauntlets that resemble the ones used by the Shocker.

I bolt over to them, my mind already racing with ideas. I pull my EMP device from my pocket, hastily modifying the gauntlets to integrate the EMP's power, hoping this combo can take the Vulture down for good.

With the makeshift gauntlets now ready, I rush out of the room and search every door on this floor, my breath quickening with each passing second. I can feel the urgency in my veins; I need to find Harry.

I finally come across a room that looks like it's been broken into.

My heart drops as I see Harry on the ground, seemingly knocked out. "Harry," I whisper urgently, rushing over to him.

But before I can react, the Vulture steps into view, a briefcase clutched tightly in his hands, his eyes narrowing as he spots me. Rage ignites in his expression, and he lunges toward me.

I barely think—adrenaline surges as I raise the modified gauntlets and fire off a blast. The energy slams into the Vulture, hoping it's enough to make his suit short out, as it flickers with erratic sparks.

The Vulture stumbles but manages to steady himself, rage burning in his eyes.

"You again?!" he roars, staggering as he tries to get his bearings. "I should've—"

Before he can finish, I fire another blast from the gauntlets, locking him in place with a surge of energy. "What did you do to, Harry?!" I shout, glancing toward my friend, who's still lying motionless on the ground. The Vulture's suit crackles as I hit him with another charge, but I can see he's weakening.

He drops to his knees, yanking off his mask to reveal his face. The man is old, way older than I expected. His features are hardened with age and a life that's seen too much. "You... really are a pain in my ass," he mutters, gasping for breath. He fumbles with a hidden button on his suit, and the wings retract with a sharp metallic hiss, leaving him sprawled on the floor.

Without his suit, he's just a guy, vulnerable, but still dangerous. "But you're just a kid," he sneers, his voice trembling. "And once I take care of you, I'll finish what I started."

I take a step back, heart racing. The gauntlets I rigged up aren't meant for serious damage, just enough to disable his tech. I fixed them for that reason—to avoid crossing a line. "Why?" I ask, my voice low but firm. "Why are you doing this? Why hurt all those people?"

The Vulture gives a harsh laugh, his voice dripping with malice. "Wouldn't you like to know." With a sudden burst of speed, he lunges at me, his hands outstretched.

"Crap!" I fake a stumble, throwing him off balance just enough. As he hesitates, I lazily drive my fist into his stomach, hard, but not so hard to where I shatter his bones, although the impact sends him flying back into a desk, the wood splintering under his weight as he slams into it, unconscious.

I stand there for a moment, catching my breath. "Sorry about that," I mutter under my breath, hands still shaking from the adrenaline. "I can be a little clumsy."

Stepping toward him, I glance at the desk he crashed into, and something catches my eye—Dr. Otto Octavius.

The name, engraved on a brass plate, sends a chill down my spine. This was Octavius's office. Was the Vulture here to steal something from him, or was this something they planned together? My mind races with possibilities.

I check on Harry, kneeling beside him. He's breathing, thank God. Vulture must've just knocked him unconscious.

As the adrenaline starts to wear off, I feel exhaustion set in. I back up against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

My mind races with everything that just happened, the Vulture's words, this room... what they're all after.

My eyes land on a glass of water on a nearby drawer, and an idea—admittedly a stupid one—crosses my mind.

If I'm going to sell the whole "I'm just a kid in over my head" thing, I might as well go all in. I grab the glass and pour it on my lap, the cold water soaking into my pants. Perfect. Now I look like I wet myself from fear.

God, I hate having a secret identity.

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

The doors of Oscorp finally slide open, revealing a chaotic scene outside—parents, cops, and media all swarming the entrance. Students rush out, seeking the safety of their parents' arms, but I just sit there, a pathetic smile tugging at my lips.

Harry claps a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a quick hug. "Hey, man. Everything's okay. We made it," he says, his voice full of relief. "We're okay."

I nod, half-smiling.

But then Harry pulls back, looking a little awkward. "Uh... probably a bad time to hug you. No offense, but, uh... don't wanna get pee all over me." He chuckles, but I just sigh, remembering the ridiculous story I had to sell to the guards.

According to my official version, I went up there to help, heard an explosion, and found the Vulture already knocked out. The gauntlets? Apparently, they malfunctioned and blew up.

And me? I got so scared I... well, you know. Classic Puny Parker.

I doubt I'll ever live this one down.

"It's okay, no offense taken," I reply, trying for a smile, even though it feels more awkward than reassuring.

"Peter," Gwen's voice cuts in softly, her expression earnest. "What you did was still brave. Really."

Before I can respond, a booming voice shouts, "Gwen! Gwen!" It's Captain Stacy, barreling through the crowd. He wraps Gwen in a tight hug, relief etched in every line of his face. "Oh, God... you're okay!" Tears well in Gwen's eyes as she clings to her dad, and for a moment, everything feels warm, safe.

But then I turn to Harry. His face is darker, his smile gone. I glance around, searching, but there's no sign of Norman Osborn anywhere. My hands clench into fists as questions flood my mind. How deep was Norman in all of this? Was he behind the drugs? The attacks? All these lives ruined? I need to know the truth.

Harry steps back, his voice quiet. "Hey, uh... I'm gonna go make a call." I watch as he walks away, a sinking feeling in my chest. Whatever he's dealing with, it's heavy. And I'm not sure how to help him with it.

As I scan the area, I spot Felicia sitting alone. I walk over, unsure how to start, but she beats me to it. "So," she says, raising an eyebrow. "You pissed your pants?"

My face burns with embarrassment. "No! I just... had to make it look that way. I couldn't risk anyone asking too many questions."

For a second, Felicia just stares at me blankly. Then, to my surprise, a smile tugs at her lips. It grows and grows until she bursts into laughter, loud and carefree.

I can't help but grin back, even if it is at my expense. "You're one strange guy, Parker. But I gotta admit, I'm impressed. Making yourself look like a loser while secretly being the hero? Not bad."

I smile genuinely this time, thankful that at least one person gets it. "Thanks, Felicia. I'm just glad you're okay. I wouldn't have wanted to see you get hurt."

Her expression softens for a moment, surprised by my sincerity. But then she quirks a sly smile. "What, you got a crush, Parker?"

I roll my eyes, a little embarrassed but not taking the bait. "Keep dreaming."

With that, we head back toward where Ms. Winterhalter is waiting by the bus, away from the chaos of flashing cameras and police chatter.

Ms. Winterhalter gives me a stern look, like she's still not over the fact that I snuck off twice during this whole ordeal. But instead of a lecture, she pulls both Felicia and me into a hug. "I'm glad you're all safe. Let's get you back home," she says.

Felicia and I board the bus. Most of the other kids had already left with their parents, and it looks like it's just us, Ms. Winterhalter, and the driver heading back to school.

I glance around for Harry, but he's nowhere to be seen. He must've gone back inside, probably waiting for Norman.

Felicia takes the seat across from me, popping in her headphones and staring out the window, while I sit in silence, watching the Oscorp building grow smaller as we drive away.

There's so much still unanswered, so much still hanging in the air. But for now, at least, we're going home.