Spider-Man: Web Of Lies

Gwen watches the television in horror, her eyes locked on the screen as Spider-Man stands against the sinister figures looming over him. She recognizes some of them—Vulture, his brutal rampage through Oscorp still etched in her mind, and Dr. Octavius, from the day he almost killed them all during his presentation.

Aunt May paces the room, phone in hand, frantically texting Peter. Why did you leave? You're grounded. Please be safe! Each message more desperate than the last.

Felicia stands off to the side, staring at the broadcast, her fists clenched tight. Gwen catches the shift in her expression—Felicia, who was usually composed and indifferent, now looked like she was on the edge of something dark, something angry.

Gwen had never seen her like this.

"Gwen," May's voice trembles as she approaches. "Did Peter say if he'd be staying with Harry? He's not answering, and it's been so long..."

Gwen's heart twists with guilt. She hadn't stopped Peter when he left—she thought he'd check on Harry and come right back. But now, nearly two hours had passed. Peter hadn't responded to any of her messages either. "No... No, he didn't. I'm so sorry, May. I shouldn't have let him leave."

May's face softens, though the worry never leaves her eyes. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. He would've gone, no matter what we did to stop him. He loves Harry."

The newscaster's voice cuts through the room. "Spider-Man has now engaged with the six individuals, but... oh god..." The voice fades, and all eyes turn to the screen, where Spider-Man is being mercilessly beaten.

Felicia's eyes widen in disbelief. Her heart races as she watches the scene unfold, horror gripping her. That's Peter. Peter Parker—the nerd she teased endlessly, the guy who was always there, offering help without hesitation, even when she pushed him away. She had never said it out loud, but Peter was her friend.

And now she was watching him die. On live television.

Felicia's stomach tightened with every punch Spider-Man took on the screen. She'd helped patch him up after countless fights, after every bruise and broken rib.

She knew how bad it was fighting just one of these maniacs. But now there were six. Six of them tearing him apart, and the more she watched, the more the dread sank in—Peter might actually die.

Her eyes drifted to May, who stood by the television, phone glued to her ear as she repeatedly dialed Peter's number, her fingers trembling.

May had no idea. She didn't know that her nephew, the boy she raised, was the one behind that mask, fighting for his life while she waited for him to call her back.

Gwen's fingers fumbled with her phone as she frantically called Harry. The phone barely rang before Harry answered.

"Gwen?" His voice was shaky.

"Harry, oh my god. Are you okay?" Gwen asked, her words tumbling over each other in panic.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine." Harry's voice cracked, the sound of someone holding back tears. "But Dad... he didn't come home. The police, they showed up and told me what was happening... My dad... they took him."

Gwen's heart shattered. She could hear the fear in Harry's voice, the helplessness. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him, knowing his father was caught in the middle of all of this.

If it were her father, she didn't know how she'd hold it together.

May's voice broke into her thoughts. "Is that Harry? Is he okay? Is he safe?"

Gwen nodded slowly, but her mind was already racing. "Yeah, May. He's safe." Then, turning her attention back to Harry, she asked, "Harry, is Peter there with you?"

"Peter?" Harry sounded confused. "No, he's not here. Why? Is something wrong?"

Gwen's blood ran cold. She turned to Aunt May, her face pale. "He's not with Harry..."

"What?" May's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Where is Peter?"

Gwen opened her mouth to answer, but her throat tightened. "I...I don't know."

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

ONE WEEK LATER....

A week had passed, but it felt like an eternity. The school was closed indefinitely, the county still reeling from the destruction that ripped through the city.

Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, the afternoon sunlight casting long shadows across her room.

The television flickered, showing the news broadcast she couldn't tear herself away from. Norman Osborn, standing at a podium, spoke with a somber expression, his face still marred by fresh cuts and bruises from the attack.

"I'm happy to announce that Oscorp will be covering all damages done to the city," Norman said, his voice calm but strained. "And we are setting up funds for the families of those who lost loved ones in this terrible incident. We'll do everything in our power to make things right."

Gwen's heart clenched. Her eyes stung as the tears began to form, but she didn't blink them away.

She couldn't stop wondering—what if Peter was one of them? One of the bodies they pulled from the wreckage? The police and rescue teams still hadn't found everyone.

And Peter... he'd just vanished. He wasn't with Harry. He wasn't answering his phone. He was just gone.

She hugged her knees tighter, watching Norman on the screen, but her mind was elsewhere.

Peter had promised he'd be right back.

The front door creaked open downstairs. Her dad must be home from the station. Gwen quickly wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself before she went to talk to him. She needed answers. She needed hope, even if it was just a small glimmer.

She found her father in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee, his shoulders slumped with the weight of everything happening.

He looked older, more tired than she remembered. When he saw her standing there, his expression softened.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, trying to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Gwen swallowed, her throat tight. "Dad... is there any word on, Peter?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her heart pounding as she waited for an answer.

Her father's face fell, and without a word, he set down the cup and walked over to her, pulling her into a tight hug. Gwen buried her face into his shoulder, her tears finally spilling over.

"They'll find him," he whispered, his voice low and comforting. "We'll find him, Gwen."

But the words didn't stop the ache in her chest.

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

Gwen stops in front of the Maple, her eyes catching sight of Harry and Felicia standing by the entrance, putting up posters with Peter's face on them. The sight twists something deep inside her. It feels unreal.

Harry notices her first, his frown deepening as he steps away from the poster he's just put up. "Hey, Gwen," he says quietly, pulling her into a soft hug. "How are you holding up?"

Gwen tries to offer a smile, but it's fragile, wavering at the edges. "I don't know, Harry. It just doesn't make sense. He can't just be... gone."

Harry's hug tightens for a second, as if he can somehow shield her from the truth neither of them wants to accept. "He's okay. I know he is. Peter's always been a little lost... but he'll come home. He always does."

Gwen nods into his shoulder, but the words don't comfort her the way she wishes they would.

The world has turned upside down, and no one has answers.

When Harry pulls back, his eyes are red, and he has dark circles under his eyes, his skin is more pale, and he's sweating, but he tries to keep his voice steady. Gwen appreciates his attempts to console her, but she can see the fear eating away at him too.

Felicia works silently beside them, stapling another photo of Peter to the wooden post. She doesn't say much, but Gwen notices the tension in her shoulders. Felicia isn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but there's something raw about her today.

Felicia has heard the same news everyone else has—how Spider-Man, against all odds, somehow managed to take down the six of them. The police found the unconscious bodies of the villains, battered and defeated. But when they searched the building, neither Spider-Man nor Norman Osborn was anywhere to be found.

Felicia figured he was just lying low, healing from whatever injuries he took in the fight. Peter has always come to her after things like this, always needing someone to patch him up. But days pass. Then a week. And still... nothing. No messages. No visits. Nothing but an empty, sinking feeling.

She staples another photo to the post, the sound loud in the quiet street. Her eyes briefly flick toward Gwen and Harry, but they don't meet hers.

Where are you, Parker? she thinks, her fist tightening around the stapler.

The silence is unbearable.

Gwen pushes open the door to the Maple, the familiar scent of food doing nothing to ease the weight pressing down on her chest.

The place is quieter than usual, but her eyes are drawn immediately to a familiar figure in the corner booth—May. She's hunched over, phone clutched tightly in her hand, speaking to someone on the other end.

"P-A-R-K-E-R, Parker. Peter Parker," May's voice trembles, her usually strong demeanor cracking. "They said they were looking for him, but I haven't heard anything ba—" Her voice breaks for a moment before she steels herself. "He's my nephew, and he's fifteen! He's out there alone! He could be hurt or... or..."

Gwen stops just inside the door, her heart breaking at the sound of May's voice. It's raw, filled with a desperation Gwen hasn't heard before.

May's words fade into sobs, and Gwen watches as the older woman slowly lowers the phone, her hand trembling.

She looks so small, so lost. For a moment, May just stares at the table, her grief pressing down on her, silent and unbearable. Then she breaks, tears slipping down her cheeks as she leans forward, her body shaking.

Gwen moves toward her without a second thought. She slides into the booth beside May, gently wrapping her arms around her in a quiet embrace. May startles slightly, not realizing Gwen was there, but when she looks up, her eyes are swollen and red, her face pale with worry.

"Oh, Gwen..." May whispers, trying to wipe away her tears quickly, to compose herself. But it's no use. She can't hold it in any longer.

"It's okay," Gwen says softly, hugging her tighter.

For a moment, neither of them says anything. The only sounds are the faint murmurs of other customers and the clatter of dishes from the kitchen.

The silence between them is heavy, but somehow, it brings comfort. They don't need to speak to understand what the other is feeling.

Gwen's heart aches for May, for herself, for Harry, and even Felicia. They're all caught in this horrible, waiting limbo. And Peter... wherever he is, whatever has happened to him—she can only hope he's still alive.

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

The scene shifts from the quiet embrace in the Maple to a dark, cold room—its walls lined with machines humming softly, casting a sickly green glow.

The air is thick, damp, and sterile.

Norman Osborn stands tall, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the unconscious body of Peter Parker—still in his tattered Spider-Man suit.

Peter's mask, now removed, lies discarded on the floor.

Norman tilts his head, a twisted smile curling at his lips. "Of all the people in this city," he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. "My son's best friend... Peter Parker. Who would've thought?"

He crouches down, his eyes scanning the young boy's face, noting the bruises, the cuts, the blood still drying on his skin. "You've been hiding in plain sight this whole time," he says, almost admiringly. "I'll admit, I didn't expect this. Not from you. Quiet, polite, unremarkable Peter Parker."

Norman straightens, a vial of glowing green liquid twirling between his fingers. He holds it up to the light, the green swirling inside like venom, potent and alive. "But it all makes sense now, doesn't it?"

He steps closer to Peter, his shadow falling over him. "The strength, the resilience, the ability to survive what should have killed any ordinary man. Yes, you're the one who stole the Spider aren't you? I'm not sure how you could've done it. But that doesn't matter now, because it worked."

He pauses, narrowing his eyes at Peter's body, noticing something peculiar. The bruises that were once dark and angry are fading, the cuts beginning to close, scabs already forming. "I couldn't believe that your body began to heal itself...so quickly..." Norman mutters, fascinated. He kneels down, his hand brushing over Peter's shoulder, pressing into the skin slightly. "You were half-dead just days ago, and now look at you. Healing, recovering at a rate I've never seen."

He chuckles softly, almost lovingly, like a father admiring a son's accomplishments. "You helped me create perfection, Peter," he whispers. "The pinnacle of human evolution. You've shown me what's possible, and now, thanks to you, I have everything I need."

Norman's eyes gleam with twisted pride as he gazes at the vial. "This... this is the future. My future. And it's all thanks to you, Peter."

He steps closer to the unconscious boy, his voice lowering as he reflects. "At first, I thought evolution would come through technology—you've seen my creations. The Scorpion suit, the Vulture MKIII. But in the hands of fools, even the best tech is wasted." He chuckles, shaking his head. "That's when I brought in Doctor Octavius. We worked on merging technology with the human mind, but he was too cautious. I had to... make adjustments without him knowing. We both saw how that ended."

He glances at the vial again, a bitter smile forming. "Then there was DNA alteration. Doctor Connors and I worked endlessly, but Aleksei, Maxwell... even Conners himself, their transformations were flawed, unstable. They weren't the answer. And my Goblin Pills, a personal project—temporary boosts, no lasting impact."

Norman kneels beside Peter, his voice taking on a softer, almost reverent tone. "But then, I found you. You kept your physical form, your humanity, and gained incredible abilities. You're what comes next, Peter. You're the key to true evolution."

Norman place's a cold hand on Peter's chest. "I suppose I should thank you," he says, his voice lowering into a sinister whisper. "You've played your part so well."

Peter's breath is shallow, his body completely still, unaware of the man standing over him, the monster he helped unwittingly create.

"But don't worry, Peter," Norman adds, standing back up, his eyes fixed on the unconscious boy. "I'll release you now that you're no longer useful to me."

He walks a few steps away, pausing as he looks at the vial once more. The smile creeps back onto his face as his fingers tighten around the glass. "But don't think for a second that our work together is finished. No... it's just beginning. And don't worry, this little secret will stay between us."

The room grows colder as Norman's laughter fills the air, low and menacing.

Peter lies still, unaware of the nightmare that awaits when he finally wakes up.