Spider-Man: Web Of Lies

The hospital room is quiet, save for the soft beeping of machines monitoring Aunt May's fragile state. The doctor's words still echo in my mind, as if I'm stuck in a loop.

"The debris hit her on the center of the skull. It's hard to say when she'll wake up."

I sit in the stiff chair next to her bed, staring at her motionless form. Her face is bruised, her body battered, and her breath so shallow it barely moves the blanket covering her chest. Her hand, cold in mine, feels too small, too delicate.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking. Tears well up, but I fight them back. I should have been there. I should've protected her.

The doctor had tried to reassure me, but nothing she said could fix this. No insurance. Even in a moment like this, I can't escape the crushing reality of everything falling apart. The medical bills, the restaurant destroyed... it's all suffocating. I grip May's hand tighter, as if that could stop her from slipping away.

Felicia lied to the cops to cover for me, told them we were all victims of the explosion, just like everyone else. I should feel relieved, but I can't stop thinking about what she's risking by keeping my secret. What we're all risking.

Then the door creaks open, and I turn to see Harry standing there. He looks worse than I've ever seen him—pale, gaunt, his eyes bloodshot. He takes a hesitant step forward, and before I can say anything, he's wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Peter."

I don't know what to say. I can feel his body trembling, his tears soaking into my shoulder, and for a second, I let myself lean into the hug, closing my eyes. I don't blame Harry, but he must know. He must know who's responsible.

"It's not your fault," I finally manage, pulling away. "Don't worry."

He looks at me, guilt and pain etched into his face. His voice wavers. "What did the doctors say?"

"She's in a coma. They don't know when she'll wake up." I feel the words weigh down on me, heavy and suffocating, and Harry looks away, his guilt deepening.

It was his father. Norman did this.

"And Felicia?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

"She's fine," I say, though my heart clenches thinking about her back at the destroyed restaurant, trying to salvage what she can. "She's cleaning what she can at the restaurant, I told her not to worry about it, but you know how stubborn she is."

Harry nods, offering a weak chuckle. "Maybe... I think you know her better than I ever did." His smile fades, and his expression turns serious again. "And Gwen?"

The mention of her name feels like a punch to the gut. I haven't spoken to Gwen since... since Captain Stacy. The memory of her scream when she learned about her father's death claws at my chest. "I haven't seen her yet. I don't know if I can, not like this. I don't want to... I don't want to be a reminder."

Harry's eyes soften. "She needs you, Pete. You and I both know what it's like to lose someone. You don't have to go through it alone, and neither does she." He pauses, his voice quieter. "Go to her. I'll stay here with May."

I stand, my legs heavy, unsure of what I'm walking toward or if I even have the strength to face Gwen. Harry grabs my arm, his grip tight, almost desperate. "Peter... I really am sorry. For everything."

I force a small smile, trying to give him some comfort. "It's not your fault, Harry."

As I reach for the door, Harry speaks up. "Hey... you ever think about why that....monster...went after your aunt's place? Out of all the places it could've hit..."

My hand pauses on the doorknob. I glance back at him, meeting his eyes for a second. "Yeah... I've thought about it. Doesn't make sense."

He gives a small, strained smile. "No... it doesn't."

I nod, feeling the weight of something unsaid hanging between us.

But as I turn to leave, I catch the look in his eyes—the guilt, the weight of his father's sins pressing down on him. It's not your fault, but it's mine.

I knew Norman was dangerous, but I waited too long. I didn't realize who the madman was until it was too late. And now, May's in a hospital bed, Gwen's life is shattered, and Harry... Harry is spiraling down a path I might not be able to pull him back from.

I step out into the hallway, the air feeling colder, heavier. Every step I take feels like I'm walking deeper into something I can't control.

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The walk to Gwen's house feels longer than it should. Each step drags up the same image—the moment Captain Stacy's body went limp in my arms, the way his eyes just... let go. It's stuck on repeat in my head, like a bad dream I can't wake up from.

When I get to her door, I raise my hand to knock, but I hesitate. What am I supposed to say? How can I even face her? This is my fault. I shouldn't be the one here trying to make her feel better.

But this isn't about me. Gwen needs me. She needs Peter Parker.

I knock, glancing down at my shoes, hoping—praying—that she won't tell me to leave.

The door opens, and there she is.

"Peter," Gwen says, her voice soft and cracked, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm... I'm so glad you're here."

Before she can say anything else, I pull her into a hug. She holds on tight, and I bury my face into her shoulder, feeling her tremble.

"I'm here," I tell her quietly. "I'm not going anywhere, Gwen. I promise."

She pulls back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and notices the bruises on my face. "You're hurt again. I heard about the explosion at the—"

"We don't have to talk about that." I shake my head, trying to steer the conversation away. "How about we...go for a walk, okay?"

She forces a small smile, even though I can tell she's barely holding it together. "Okay. I'll grab my shoes."

As I stand there waiting, my mind goes back to the last time I was here, just hours before everything went wrong. Captain Stacy was right there, laughing. Now... he's gone. And no matter how hard I try, I can't change that.

Gwen comes back, slipping her hand into mine, and we start walking down the quiet street. Neither of us says much. We don't need to. Just being here, together, is enough for now.

We reach the park, the same one we used to hang out at as kids. Gwen stops, staring at the swings.

"When's the last time you went on the swings?" she asks suddenly.

I rub the back of my neck, thinking. "Uh, probably back when I broke my arm in fifth grade trying to do a jump."

She laughs softly, though it's more out of habit than anything. "Well, this time I'll be here to catch you."

She heads over to the swings and sits down, giving herself a small push. I sit on the swing next to her, watching her legs kick forward, then back, like we're kids again. She's quiet for a while, just swinging, and I let her have that moment.

Eventually, she slows to a stop and looks over at me. "Do you remember when we used to come here after school? Playing demons and angels?"

I grin. "Yeah. Weirdest game ever. Who came up with that?"

"Mary Jane," she says, her voice distant. "It was so easy back then. School, games, my dad picking me up after, blasting some random music. He loved his oldies... I used to hate it."

I grip the chains of the swing, feeling the tension in the air shift.

Gwen's gaze drops to the ground. "I got so mad at him once. I was thirteen, and he wouldn't let me go to this party. He wanted to go on our usual family trip, but I got tired of it. I said some pretty horrible things to him. In the end, only my mom and brother went on the trip, and he stayed home with me... just so I could go. I don't think I even thanked him."

I don't know what to say. I want to fix this for her, but I can't. So I just listen.

"He was always doing stuff like that for me," she continues, her voice shaky. "Why didn't I tell him I loved him more? Why didn't I say thank you? Why didn't I..." She looks at me, her eyes full of guilt and regret. "Why didn't I tell him, Peter?"

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "Gwen, your dad... he knew. He knew how much you loved him. He didn't need to hear it. He just... he knew."

She looks away, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Yeah... I guess."

I reach over, taking her hand again. We sit there, the swings creaking lightly in the breeze, and even though I can't fix this for her, I can be here. That's all I can do right now. Be here.

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Gwen and I sit on the couch, her head resting against my shoulder as she sleeps. We'd been watching Back to the Future—her comfort movie. Somehow, it always knocked her out. She looks peaceful, curled up beside me, and for a moment, I let myself believe that with me, she feels safe.

Safe. I wonder if that's what I am to her. Can I even be that? After everything, I'm not sure.

My phone buzzes. It's Harry, letting me know he's staying over with Aunt May. He feels guilty, even though I've told him over and over it's not his fault. His dad made his own choices. But I get it.

I think of Felicia, probably back at our place by now. I feel bad leaving her there alone, but she'd want the space, knowing her.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Gwen's little brother, Arthur, walking into the room. No game in sight, which is rare. He plops down on the other couch, staring at the TV.

"What happened to your face?" he asks, his voice flat.

"Uh... just an explosion," I say, then realize how insane that sounds. "I mean, gas leak. At the restaurant. It was no big deal."

He nods, like he's barely listening, his eyes flicking to his sister. "She talks about you all the time, you know."

I feel my face heat up as I look down at Gwen.

"It's annoying," Arthur adds, then shrugs. "But... I guess it's good. You're her first boyfriend, right? So, at least now you can take care of her... now that..."

He trails off, and I feel my chest tighten. Her first boyfriend? Me?

Before I can get caught up in that, I notice the way his face shifts. He looks conflicted, like he's trying to figure out how to keep going with what he wants to say. This is the longest we've ever talked.

Arthur stares at the TV, his voice quieter. "I used to wanna be a cop like my dad. Thought it'd be cool, saving people. But... it's not cool to leave your family behind."

I open my mouth, then close it. I can tell he's been holding this in for a while.

"Your dad—" I start.

"I know," he cuts me off, his voice sharp. "He was a hero, right? Everyone says it. But that doesn't change anything."

I frown, and the ache in my chest deepens. I know exactly what he's feeling. I've been there. "When I lost my uncle... I didn't care what anyone said about how good he was. People would say they were sorry, tell me he was a great guy, but all I wanted was for him to come back. No one could fix that."

Arthur turns to me, his eyes wet but focused. For a second, he lets his guard down.

"I get it," I tell him. "It's not about all the things he did right. It's just... wanting him here."

He quickly looks away, wiping his face, trying to hide the tears. We sit in silence for a moment, the movie playing in the background. Then, his voice breaks through again, softer this time.

"What is this movie, anyway?"

I laugh, relieved to see him relax a little. "Seriously? You've never seen Back to the Future?"

He shrugs, and I shake my head. "Alright, we're fixing that. You're watching the whole trilogy with me and Gwen next time."

For now, if there's anything I can do to make it up to Captain Stacy, it's at least being here for the ones he's left behind.

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It's the middle of the night, and I'm watching Gwen sleep. I wish I could stay, that sitting here with her would somehow make everything right. But I can't. Not with Norman still out there, not when everyone I care about is at risk because of me.

I stand quietly, leaving a note by her side. There's something I need to take care of. I'll be back soon. I know it'll hurt her, but maybe keeping a little distance is for the best right now.

Swinging through the city, every pull on the web sends a jolt through my aching body. Norman hit harder than I expected. Could I have done something different? Could I have saved Captain Stacy? I push the thoughts away as I land on the edge of Oscorp, still half-destroyed from the explosions. No time for doubts.

I slip in through a broken window, crawling along the ceiling through the dark, empty halls. No workers, no security. Too quiet.

I spot the camera near the room I need, tucked in the corner. Reaching into my belt, I pull out the EMP device, a smaller version of the one I used on the Vulture. It's not as strong, but it should do the job. I aim it at the camera, and the red light flickers off. Not long before it comes back online.

I drop to the floor and head for the door. Of course, it's locked. Some fancy keypad stares back at me. "What would a mad scientist pick for a passcode, '666'?" I mutter. Not like I have time to guess. I grip the handle, bending the metal just enough to force the door open with a loud crack.

The light spills into the room, and... it's empty.

I step inside, and my heart sinks. I start pulling open drawers, flipping through empty folders. "Come on," I mutter under my breath. There has to be something. I toss papers aside, but there's nothing useful—no files on Project Reinvention, no reports on the Scorpion suit or the Rhino. No mention of Doctor Connors.

Frustration boils up inside me as I tear through file cabinets, scanning for anything. Every folder is empty, every document irrelevant. I grab a stack of files, scattering them across the floor, my pulse rising. "Damn it!" Norman wiped it all. He covered his tracks completely.

I slam a fist into the wall, cracking it, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Norman's out there, playing the victim, making the world think he's helpless. But I know the truth. He's not a victim—he's the one pulling the strings, hiding in plain sight while his monsters tore the city apart.

I take a breath, forcing myself to calm down. The room might be empty, but I'll find him. No matter what it takes, I'm going to make him pay for everything.

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

I sit on top of the Chrysler Building, my mask in my lap, staring out at the city. The wind is cold, but I barely feel it. All I can think about is everything that's happened, everything I've done—or failed to do. It feels like the weight of the world is crushing me, but then again, that's the job, right?

Captain Stacy's face keeps coming back to me. That moment... when I knew he was gone. I can still feel it. I was holding him, and he just... let go. I was supposed to protect him. I was there, but somehow, it still wasn't enough. All these powers, and people still die around me. And if that keeps happening, then... what's the point?

I think about Max Dillon, Electro, how things spiraled so fast. He just wanted to be noticed, and I—Spider-Man—was part of what pushed him over the edge. And all those people in the diner... I didn't mean to. I didn't mean for any of them to die. But they did, because of something I was a part of. What happens if one day, I make a mistake like that? If something I do costs even more lives? Could I even live with myself?

I'm always careful, but that doesn't mean people haven't gotten hurt. I can't shake the thought that one day it'll be me leaving someone like Gwen behind. If being Spider-Man means that, is it really worth it?

I rub my face, tired, feeling more than just the ache of bruises. I look down at the streets below, but they don't bring any comfort tonight. Just more questions.

Then I notice a screen nearby, flashing with a news report. Great. Jameson. He's running another piece on me, talking about "Spider-Man's latest failure." I sigh, already expecting the usual garbage. There's a picture on the screen, and I think to myself, I could've taken a better shot.

He's going on about the latest attack—about the man who he's calling the "Green Goblin". My chest tightens. And then he says it. Captain Stacy's name. Along with all the others who died in that fight. My heart sinks, but I force myself to keep watching.

Jameson says they're about to show footage from the scene. My stomach twists as I watch the screen, not sure what I'm expecting to see. The video plays, and at first, I think it's just me fighting the Goblin. But then... I see something else.

I'm holding Captain Stacy—no. Not me. It's someone who looks like me, holding him by the throat. And then... I watch as they snap his neck.

I stand up, my heart racing. What the hell? That's not possible. That's not me. This never happened—but it looks so real. Too real.

Jonah's voice cuts through the noise in my head. "There you have it, folks. Irrefutable proof that Spider-Man is every bit the menace we've always believed him to be."

And then he drops another name. Quentin Beck. The guy who "captured" this footage. Apparently a victim of the Goblin's bombings that night.

I check my phone, and it's blowing up. The video's gone viral, spreading like wildfire. People are already commenting—"I thought he was a hero," "I always knew Spider-Man was a fake," "How could they let him get away with this?"

My stomach churns. This isn't real. It can't be real. But that doesn't matter, because people will believe it.

I get a message from Harry: Pete, have you seen the news about Spider-Man?

Then Felicia: What's going on?

I don't know what to say to either of them. I don't know what to do. But I know one thing: Norman Osborn is behind this. He has to be.