October 17, 2004
The moon hung high over New York City, its silver glow casting long shadows along the streets. Spider-Man perched on the edge of a rooftop, his suit slightly scuffed from a long day of crime-fighting. He had stopped a couple of muggings, broken up a carjacking, and even helped an old lady cross the street when she got caught in traffic—but none of that compared to what he was about to do.
Below, the restaurant sat nestled between taller buildings, its dimly lit sign barely visible from the street. From the outside, it looked like any other quiet establishment, but Peter knew better.
Time to find out just how deep this rabbit hole goes.
Moving swiftly, Spider-Man climbed along the building's side, finding a narrow ventilation duct near the roof. He squeezed inside, crawling through the tight space like a spider in its web, his movements silent.
He activated a small voice recorder, pressing it against the interior wall of the vent. Evidence was everything. If he could record their conversation, he could get the police to finally crack down on the Maggia's network.
Creeping forward, Peter soon found a vantage point—a grated vent overlooking a gathering of figures inside the restaurant's private room. He peered down, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
The room was filled with Maggia members, all seated around a long table. At the center of the conversation was a man in his mid-forties, dressed in a well-tailored suit, Marko Santini—the same man Peter had seen at Saint Patrick's Cathedral.
Beside him sat a woman, poised and calculating. She had dark, piercing eyes and an air of authority. Peter recognized her name the moment it was spoken: Saya Ishii, the daughter of Silvio Manfredi.
"Rapier got taken in." Santini's voice was low, measured, but carried the weight of frustration. "That means whoever did it—this so-called Spider-Man—is a problem we can't ignore."
Peter smirked beneath his mask. Nice to know I'm already making an impression.
Another voice chimed in, gravelly and rough—one of the older Maggia members. "Cicero's still got our judge under his thumb, but we need to be careful. The feds are sniffing around. After the apartment fire, eyes are on us."
Peter tensed. The apartment fire. So many criminals had walked free after that case, and now he knew why. The judge on Cicero's payroll had orchestrated the entire cover-up.
Ishii exhaled sharply. "Enough excuses. If Cicero's operations are to continue, we need to move fast. He's paid well to ensure our people don't rot in a cell."
Then she leaned forward, addressing the room. "To make sure Spider-Man doesn't stick his nose where it doesn't belong, we're bringing in two of our best."
Peter listened intently.
"Lonnie Lincoln."
Peter frowned. That name sounds familiar.
"Duvid Fortunov."
Peter's eyes widened slightly. Fortunov—that name was old money Maggia, the kind that ran deep.
Before he could process it all, a loud crash shattered the tension.
A Maggia thug flew through the front window in a spray of shattered glass. The room fell silent for a beat—then chaos erupted.
Peter craned his neck as a figure leaped through the broken window, landing with the grace of a trained fighter.
It was her.
The woman from the photograph. The one Norman Osborn wanted him to find.
Even in the dim light, Peter could make out her striking features, the way she moved with fluid precision, the intensity in her expression.
The Maggia thugs were already scrambling, reaching for weapons.
That was Peter's cue.
Spider-Man kicked open the vent grate and dropped into the room, landing with a crouch.
"Hey there, boys! Sorry I didn't make a reservation, but something tells me this place is getting shut down early."
Before the Maggia could react, he was on them.
A punch to one thug's gut, a web yank to disarm another, a split-second dodge from a flying bottle. The room erupted into a brawl.
The woman—still unnamed to Peter—moved in tandem with him, taking out men with swift, brutal efficiency. A spinning kick sent one into a table, a precise strike disarmed another before he could fire his gun.
Spider-Man, ducking and weaving between attackers, couldn't help but think:
Who is she? And why is she fighting them?
But there wasn't time for questions.
Tonight, the Maggia was getting a wake-up call.
The restaurant was a war zone. Tables were overturned, shattered glass covered the floor, and the scent of gunpowder hung in the air.
Saya Ishii, standing at the far end of the room, raised her pistol, her sharp eyes locked onto Echo as she took aim.
BANG! BANG!
Two shots rang out, but Echo was already moving, twisting her body as the bullets zipped past her. She flipped over a fallen chair, landing gracefully, her eyes darting toward Saya.
BANG!
Another shot—too close. Echo had seconds to act.
Before she could make her move, a thin line of webbing shot out from the side—
THWIP!
Spider-Man's web latched onto Saya's wrist. With a swift yank, her gun flew from her grasp, spinning in the air before sticking to the ceiling.
"Sorry, lady, but I think you've lost your gun privileges."
Saya cursed under her breath, her frustration clear, but Peter had no time to gloat.
Because now, he was face-to-face with Lonnie Lincoln and Duvid Fortunov.
Lonnie Lincoln moved first. The hulking enforcer lunged at Peter, his fist cracking the air as he swung. Peter ducked—barely. The blow shattered a wooden beam behind him.
"Yikes," Peter muttered. "What are you, part wrecking ball?"
Before he could react, Duvid raised his guns.
BANG! BANG!
Spider-Man flipped backward, dodging the bullets as they tore into the walls and furniture. He landed, but Lonnie was already on him, throwing a brutal knee strike.
Peter twisted mid-air, avoiding the full force, but Lincoln's attack clipped his ribs, sending pain surging through his side.
He landed hard, rolling to his feet. "Okay. Ow."
Duvid fired again, and Peter had to keep moving, dodging and weaving as he tried to close the gap.
Across the room, Echo was locked in combat with Marko Santini.
Marko was a skilled fighter—quick, precise, and relentless. But Echo was faster.
He threw a wild hook, but Echo ducked under it, striking him twice in the ribs before grabbing his arm and twisting it.
Marko hissed in pain, but he fought through it, slamming his elbow toward her face.
Echo caught it.
Using his momentum, she pivoted, hurling him backward.
CRASH!f
Marko slammed into a table, which collapsed beneath his weight.
Echo whirled around, scanning the battlefield. That's when she saw it—
Spider-Man was in trouble.
Lincoln and Duvid had Peter pinned down.
Lonnie swung for Spider-Man's head, but Peter managed to duck, only to be met with a barrage of bullets from Duvid.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Peter flipped onto a shattered counter, then vaulted over it, trying to put some distance between himself and the gunfire. But it was too much.
Saya, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "Keep him pinned down. This is our chance."
Peter clenched his jaw. I need an opening.
Echo's eyes flicked between Duvid and Spider-Man.
She moved.
Duvid was too focused on shooting to notice her until it was too late.
SWEEP!
Echo's leg shot out, knocking Duvid's feet out from under him.
Duvid hit the ground hard with a grunt, his guns flying from his hands—
THWIP!
Peter's webbing shot out, snatching up the guns and sticking them to the wall.
Peter landed a few feet away, cracking his knuckles. "Finally. No more bullets."
Duvid scrambled to his feet, eyes darting to Lonnie, then to Echo.
Peter grinned beneath his mask. "Time for round two."
The restaurant was in chaos. Shattered tables, bullet-riddled walls, and unconscious Maggia goons littered the room, but the fight was far from over.
Saya Ishii stood at the edge of the fray, her expression cold and unreadable. The firearm had been a distraction, nothing more. This fight needed precision.
She reached to her side, unsheathing her sword in a single, fluid motion.
Enough of this.
Her eyes locked onto Spider-Man as he dodged a punch from Lonnie Lincoln. She saw her opening.
With a burst of speed, she lunged.
The blade gleamed under the flickering restaurant lights, cutting through the air—
CLANG!
Her sword never reached its target. Echo's billy club intercepted it.
The two women locked eyes.
Saya's lips curled into a smirk. "You again."
Echo didn't respond. She didn't need to. She twisted her billy club, deflecting Saya's blade, and in an instant, the two launched into battle.
As Echo and Saya clashed, Spider-Man had his hands full with Lonnie Lincoln.
Lincoln lunged forward, swinging a haymaker that Peter barely ducked under.
"Man, you are really committed to breaking my ribs tonight!" Peter quipped, flipping backward as Lincoln threw another devastating punch.
Peter's spider-sense flared just as Lincoln ripped a metal chair from the floor and hurled it like a missile.
Peter twisted mid-air, avoiding the makeshift projectile, but Lincoln was already on him, pressing forward with brute force.
Spider-Man had to be quick.
He shot two quick strands of webbing at Lincoln's feet and yanked.
Lincoln stumbled, losing his balance for just a second—but a second was all Peter needed.
With a powerful dropkick to the chest, Spider-Man sent Lincoln crashing into a table, splintering it on impact.
But just as Peter was about to press the advantage—
His spider-sense screamed.
Across the restaurant, Marko Santini had seen enough.
"This has gone on too long," he muttered, motioning to two of his men.
They pulled aside a heavy draped cloth, revealing a Gatling gun mounted on a tripod.
Santini grabbed the weapon, his fingers tightening around the trigger. "Light them up."
The gun whirred to life.
BRRRRRRRTTT!
Bullets ripped through the restaurant, tearing into everything in sight.
Peter's spider-sense flared again—harder this time.
He dove, rolling toward Echo. Without thinking, he grabbed her arm and yanked her down with him, just as the bullets shredded the air above them.
Echo's eyes widened, realizing how close that had been.
Saya cursed under her breath. "Idiots! You're going to bring the cops down on us!"
But Marko didn't care. He kept firing, sweeping the gun across the restaurant, forcing Spider-Man and Echo to stay on the defensive.
Saya gritted her teeth.
"This operation is over," she snapped, backing toward the exit.
Lincoln growled but followed. They weren't going to get what they wanted tonight.
With their leaders retreating, many Maggia members followed suit, fleeing through the back.
Spider-Man saw them running and acted fast.
THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!
Strands of webbing snagged several fleeing Maggia thugs, pinning them to walls or yanking them off their feet.
But there were too many. Some still escaped into the night.
Peter clenched his jaw but turned his focus back to the immediate threat.
Echo moved.
She vaulted over an overturned table, staying low as she rushed toward Marko.
He was so focused on Spider-Man, he didn't see her until she was already there.
She smashed her billy club against his arm, making him jerk back from the minigun.
Before he could recover, she whipped around, landing a spinning kick to his face.
He stumbled back—
Echo grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into a pillar.
THUD!
Marko's body went limp as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Echo exhaled sharply, then turned to see Spider-Man finishing off the last straggler.
It was over.
The restaurant was a wreck, but the Maggia had been dealt a major blow.
Spider-Man walked over to Echo, pulling something from his belt—
A small notebook.
He flipped it open, revealing a handwritten message:
"Thanks for the assist."
Echo blinked.
Her fingers brushed against the page, processing the unexpected form of communication.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
She grabbed the pen attached to the notebook and began writing.
Spider-Man watched, realizing something important.
For the first time since this night began—
He was finally going to learn something about the woman he had been searching for.
The city hummed below them—police sirens wailing in the distance, the streets still alive despite the late hour. Perched on the edge of a rooftop across from the ruined restaurant, Spider-Man and Echo watched as flashing red and blue lights flooded the scene.
Peter turned to Echo as she finished scrawling something in his notebook. He flipped it to read her message:
"If you let me see your lips, I can speak to you."
Peter blinked behind his mask. He hadn't considered that. It made sense—she could read lips. But that meant he had to be careful. He wanted to communicate, but not at the risk of revealing his identity.
He looked at her, then at the chaos below. "We should move," he said, pointing away from the crime scene. She nodded, and the two of them leaped across the rooftops until they settled on a quieter perch, overlooking the city skyline.
Once they were safe, Peter hesitated before lifting the lower half of his mask just enough to expose his mouth. He watched as Echo's eyes locked onto his lips, focused, waiting for him to speak.
"Alright," he said slowly, making sure she could follow. "I guess introductions are in order. You can call me… Spider-Man."
Echo studied him, then nodded. "Echo," she said, her voice calm but firm.
Peter found himself intrigued—not just by the name, but by the way she carried herself. She wasn't just a fighter. She had purpose.
She tilted her head slightly. "Why are you chasing the Maggia?"
Peter exhaled. "Because… they started a fire. A bad one. One I still think I could have stopped." His jaw tightened. "The people who did it—who let it happen—they're still out there. And I need to stop them."
Echo took in his words, her expression unreadable. Then she asked, "Where did you come from? Why this city?"
Peter hesitated. The question felt bigger than just geography. He didn't know why, but he wanted to be honest with her—at least about this part.
"I… just came into being recently," he admitted. "And, well… this city? It's home. It's always been home."
A beat of silence passed before he continued. "I guess now is as good a time as any to explain how I became… this." He gestured vaguely at his suit.
Echo simply nodded, listening.
"Bear with me," Peter warned, "because this is going to sound pretty crazy."
He took a deep breath and began. "It started with a spider. One trapped in amber. I found it, touched it… and the next thing I knew—" He hesitated, brow furrowing. "Actually, I don't remember what happened next. But after that day, everything changed."
Echo's gaze sharpened. "Changed how?"
Peter glanced down at his hands, flexing them. "Strength. Speed. Reflexes. A sixth sense that tells me when danger's coming. And…" He looked back at her. "A feeling like… this was supposed to happen."
Echo considered this for a moment before asking, "Do you remember anything else?"
Peter frowned, trying to dig into that foggy part of his memory. Then, something surfaced. A word—no, several. But one in particular stood out.
"Kuwe."
Echo's expression flickered with recognition. "Lunape."
Peter blinked. "Wait, you know that language?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she seemed to be turning something over in her mind. Then, she met his gaze again. "Tell me exactly how you heard it."
Peter wasn't sure why, but something about this moment felt… important. He pulled the mask back over his face, but inside, his thoughts were racing.
For the first time, he wasn't just chasing answers.
He might be on the verge of finding them.
Spider-Man sat on the rooftop ledge, elbows on his knees, fingers idly twisting a strand of webbing as he stared down at the city lights. He wasn't sure why, but saying that word—Kuwe—felt like he had stirred something deep inside himself. Something he didn't fully understand.
Echo crouched beside him, watching him closely. "Tell me exactly how you heard those words," she said.
Peter exhaled. "It happened the night I changed. I was dreaming—or at least, I think I was." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I remember standing in this… endless web, stretching in every direction. It was dark, but glowing strands ran through it like veins of light. And then… I heard a voice."
Echo's eyes flickered with recognition, but she let him continue.
"It spoke in a language I didn't understand. At least, I thought I didn't." Peter shook his head. "But somehow, I knew what it was saying. It was telling me something important, something about what was coming." He clenched his fists. "Then I woke up… and everything was different."
Echo studied him, considering his words carefully. Then she stood and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small bundle of leather cords wrapped around beads. She began tying them together methodically as she spoke.
"There might be a way to help you remember," she said. "When my people need to recall something forgotten—something buried deep—we listen to the rhythm of our breath, let the body remember what the mind does not."
Peter looked at her skeptically beneath his mask. "I don't know if you've noticed, but my life isn't exactly built for meditation."
Echo smirked. "Then it's time you learn."
She gestured for him to sit cross-legged. He hesitated, then relented, lowering himself onto the rooftop as Echo did the same across from him.
"Close your eyes," she instructed.
Peter sighed but complied.
"Focus on the moment before you woke up. Let yourself be there again. Let the web hold you."
At first, nothing happened. Just the usual static of his thoughts—worries about the Maggia, about the people he couldn't save, about what all of this meant. But then, something shifted. The memory didn't feel so distant anymore. It felt… present.
The web. The voice. The words.
Nanapush Kuwe.
Peter's breath caught.
His eyes snapped open.
Echo was watching him intently. "You remember something," she said.
Peter swallowed. "Yeah. I do."
Echo nodded slowly. "Then it's true. You've received the blessing of Nanapush Kuwe."
Peter tilted his head. "Okay, I'm gonna be honest—I have no idea who that is."
Echo exhaled, glancing at the city skyline. "That's not surprising. Their names have been lost to the ages. Even among the Lenape, few recall them." She looked back at him. "But they were once known as the Six-Faced Spider God—a being whose names have been left to the winds of history for hundreds of years."
Peter felt a chill crawl up his spine. "The six-faced Spider God?" He flexed his fingers unconsciously. "So… you're saying my powers might be connected to that?"
Echo nodded. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the words spoken to you were in Lenape. This is bigger than you, Spider-Man. Older than you."
She hesitated, then continued. "One of my ancestors arrived on Lenape lands generations ago, seeking to learn from them. Among the many stories told, one stood out. It spoke of a figure who wove the fates of those chosen, a guardian and trickster whose silk stretched through time itself. The people were told to remain mindful of this figure, for their web connected more than just the physical world."
Peter's thoughts raced. "And now… you think those names are being uncovered again."
Echo met his gaze. "Yes."
Peter exhaled, his mind struggling to grasp the weight of it all. He had spent so much time wondering what had happened to him, why he had become this. But if Echo was right… then this wasn't just about an accident. It wasn't just about a spider.
It was about something ancient. Something lost. And now, found.
"…Well," Peter finally muttered, running a hand through his hair, "that's a lot to process."
Echo smirked. "You're handling it better than most would."
Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… I think I passed my quota for 'weird revelations' a long time ago."
Echo stood, adjusting the straps on her gloves. "Then maybe it's time you start searching for the rest of those lost names."
Peter looked up at her, still seated. He let the thought sink in.
For the first time since this all began, he wasn't just reacting.
He had a direction.
And he wasn't alone in finding it.
Spider-Man sat perched on the ledge, the cold night air cutting through his suit. Across from him, Echo leaned against the rooftop's ventilation shaft, her expression unreadable as always. Below them, the restaurant they had just torn apart was now swarming with police. It was another night, another battle, but Spider-Man knew this was far from over.
He exhaled, his breath visible in the crisp air. "I need to keep in touch with you," he admitted. "If we want to figure out what's really going on, I can't do this alone."
Echo nodded. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small black pager, tossing it to him. Spider-Man caught it with ease, flipping it in his hand.
"Use this," she signed, her fingers moving swiftly. "Enter '411' if you make a significant discovery. '999' if you need assistance."
Peter scribbled the codes down in his notebook as Echo continued, adding a series of numerical entries that corresponded to various locations—meeting spots, safe zones, places of interest in their investigation. It was a silent agreement that their paths would cross again.
But Spider-Man knew he couldn't rely on Echo for everything. This was his investigation as much as it was hers. He had to be ready to act alone when the time came.
Looking up, he finally asked, "What made you pick up a task like this?"
Echo's expression darkened. "Silvio Manfredi is searching for one of the spiders," she said, her voice steady but carrying the weight of something deeper. "He believes it could be a step toward immortality. If he finds it, the Maggia will become more dangerous than ever."
Spider-Man clenched his fists. That meant more conflicts with the Maggia. More fights. More danger. But it also meant something else—another chance. Another lead to follow.
If the Maggia was involved, then the truth about the fire—the one he still blamed himself for—might not be far behind. He could still find out who was responsible. He could still make up for what he failed to prevent.
For the first time in a long time, Spider-Man felt like he was in control.
He didn't say any of this to Echo. Instead, he stood up and gave her a small nod. "I guess I'll be seeing you around, then."
Echo returned the gesture before turning away, disappearing into the night.
Spider-Man took one last look at the pager in his hand before slipping it into his belt. Then, he swung off into the city, heading toward the temporary home he shared with Aunt May. For the first time in a while, he felt a sense of certainty.
The only question now was whether it was the right time to tell Norman Osborn what he had discovered.
A dimly lit chandelier cast a sickly yellow glow over the long wooden table at the center of the room. The air was thick with cigar smoke, the scent of expensive liquor clinging to the air. Silvio Manfredi sat at the head of the table, his age-worn hands clasped over his cane, his expression unreadable beneath the deep creases of his face.
Across from him stood Saya Ishii, her sword sheathed at her side, her expression unwavering despite the weight of what she had to say.
"Marko Santini and Duvid Fortunov have been arrested," she announced. "Along with half of the men we sent to the restaurant tonight."
Silvio's grip on his cane tightened, the old wood creaking under the strain. A slow breath escaped him, but he said nothing.
"We still have Caesar Cicero on our payroll," Saya continued. "For now. But with this many of our people behind bars, it's only a matter of time before the cracks start to show."
Silvio finally spoke, his voice rasping from decades of power and survival. "Then tell me, Saya, how do we turn this around?"
Saya allowed herself a small, knowing smile. She stepped forward, lowering her voice, though every man in the room was already hanging onto her every word.
"You already know my answer," she said. "I told you this at the meeting. The answer is inside Oscorp."
Silvio's gaze sharpened. "The spider."
"One of them," Saya corrected. "Hidden within Oscorp's main building. One of the very same pieces you've been looking for."
The room was silent, save for the faint crackling of embers from Silvio's cigar. He leaned back in his chair, considering. Then, after a long moment, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"If we pull this off," he muttered, "we take back everything we've lost. We get back control. No more Echo. No more masked freak getting in our way."
Silvio turned his gaze toward the few Maggia members who remained in the room—men who had managed to slip away from the disaster at the restaurant.
"All of you," he ordered, his voice now full of force. "We're pulling the biggest job this family has ever done. I want every man we've got—armed, ready, and in position. We take that spider, and we take back our city."
A heavy silence filled the room as the men exchanged glances. Then, from the back of the room, a voice spoke.
"I want in."
The others turned as Joseph stepped forward, the bruises and bandages from his last encounter now faded. His eyes burned with something new—determination, desperation, the need to make up for his prior failure.
Silvio studied him for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. "Good. You'll get your shot, Joseph. Don't waste it."
Saya watched as the Maggia men slowly nodded in agreement, their resolve solidifying.
They had lost the battle tonight.
But soon, the war would begin.
The heavy silence in the room lingered after Silvio's declaration. The promise of reclaiming control over their operations, of taking the Spider for themselves, had set the mood, but now it was time to ensure there would be no loose ends.
Saya Ishii straightened, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword as she met Silvio's gaze. "I've already ensured that when the heist begins, the police will be too occupied to respond."
Silvio arched an eyebrow.
"There are enough distractions in play," she continued. "Tonight's raid left gaps in the city's underworld, and there are plenty eager to take advantage of it. By the time we make our move, the police will be dealing with fires in Hell's Kitchen, brawls in Brooklyn, and a weapons deal gone south in Queens. No one's going to be looking at us until it's already over."
A small, approving grin crossed Silvio's face as he leaned forward on his cane. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"I always do," Saya replied, her tone sharp with confidence. "And to ensure there are no further interruptions, I'll be leading the charge personally."
The room shifted. A few men exchanged glances. Joseph stiffened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Silvio exhaled slowly, as if savoring the moment. "That's quite the claim."
Saya didn't waver. "Echo and her new partner—this Spider-Man—have already proven themselves a problem. I'll see to it that they're eliminated, whether or not my subordinates can keep up."
Silvio let out a low chuckle, his amusement evident. "I like that confidence, Saya. You get me that spider, you hand it to me personally, and I'll see to it that from this day forward, you are a true Manfredi."
A murmur ran through the room. Even Joseph's posture stiffened further at the words.
Silvio continued, his gaze shifting between them. "Now, whether or not that puts you ahead of your half-brother in the line to take my mantle… Well, that's a matter I'll let the two of you settle."
Saya smirked, her dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Fair enough."
Joseph said nothing, but Saya could feel his glare burning into the side of her face. Let him stew in it. She had bigger things to focus on.
Silvio gestured toward the gathered men. "We move soon. Be ready."
With that, the meeting was over.
Saya turned on her heel and left the room, her mind already calculating every step of the heist. This was her moment. She would not fail.
October 18, 2004
The halls of Midtown High bustled with the usual morning energy—students filing into classrooms, friends chatting by lockers, the occasional teacher reminding everyone of upcoming assignments. To everyone else, it was just another ordinary day. But for Peter Parker, the weight of last night's revelations made everything feel just a little different.
As he walked through the halls, he replayed his conversation with Echo. The ancient god—Nanapush Kuwe—was a figure lost to time, a deity once known but now forgotten, buried beneath the winds of history. And yet, somehow, it had chosen him.
Peter wasn't sure how to feel about that. Destiny wasn't exactly something he had put much stock in before. He had spent his entire life trying to make sense of the world through science, through logic. But now? He had been gifted—or cursed—with powers linked to something far older than anything he could find in a textbook.
He had no other sources to turn to. If there were any existing records of this lost Spider god, they weren't exactly in the school library. That meant only one person could help him now.
Norman Osborn.
Peter didn't see any reason to mistrust him. Norman had been a constant source of guidance, someone who had taken an interest in Peter's intellect and future. If anyone had access to resources that might uncover more about this ancient god, it was him. But Peter also knew he couldn't reach out to Echo just yet—not until he had something concrete. He needed to speak with Norman first.
With that plan set, Peter made quick notes in his notebook between classes, jotting down everything he had learned from Echo. He didn't want to forget any details—every piece of information might be crucial.
Spotting Harry and Liz Allan at their usual table, Peter approached, sliding into a seat across from them.
"Hey, Harry," Peter started, keeping his voice casual, "I've been thinking... Now might be a good time to talk to your dad. I think I've found something worth looking into."
Harry glanced up from his drink, raising an eyebrow. "You mean about your internship project? What'd you find?"
Peter hesitated, knowing he couldn't exactly tell Harry the full truth. "Something related to old mythology. Some pretty obscure stuff, actually. Your dad might be the best person to help me dig deeper."
Harry nodded, considering it. "I can ask him if he's got time after school. You should swing by."
"Sounds like a plan," Peter said. One step closer to answers.
Chapter 7: Volume 1: Manifestations
October 18, 2004
As the day continued, Peter found himself in the school auditorium, standing near the stage where Gwen Stacy was reviewing her script.
"You ready for the play this Friday?" Gwen asked, looking up with a smile.
Peter chuckled. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"You sure you're okay with being part of the ensemble?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "I mean, I know you could've gone for a bigger role."
Peter paused, thinking about that. About how, even as Spider-Man, he worked from the shadows, changing things for the better without always being in the spotlight.
"Sometimes being in the background isn't the worst place to be," he said finally, offering a small grin.
Gwen smiled back. "Good way to look at it."
Peter mentally filed that thought away. Whether as Peter Parker or Spider-Man, maybe his role in life wasn't about standing at the center of the stage. Maybe it was about being there when it counted, shifting the course of things quietly, in ways that really mattered.
And if he was going to change the fortunes of others for the better—whether it was finding justice for the fire, stopping the Maggia, or understanding his own powers—then that was exactly where he needed to be.
The limousine ride to Norman Osborn's residence was quiet at first, save for the gentle hum of the car's engine and the distant murmur of traffic. Harry tapped his fingers idly against the armrest before finally breaking the silence.
"So, how'd you even find her?" he asked, turning to Peter with curiosity. "The woman my dad asked you to look for?"
Peter glanced out the window, organizing his thoughts before answering. "I spent the weekend searching the city for her. Just followed every possible lead, checked places where she might have been seen before. It took a while, but I managed to track her down."
Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Seriously? You just searched the whole city on foot?"
Peter chuckled nervously. Something like that. "It wasn't easy, but once I gained her trust, she helped me piece together more of what I was trying to remember. I've been able to recall key parts of the dream I had. Now I'm just worried that what I found out might be so obscure that even your dad won't have any clue what it means."
Harry smirked. "If it's obscure knowledge you're worried about, you're in the right hands. My dad knows just about everything when it comes to the things most people don't."
Peter hoped that was true.
The limousine pulled into the driveway of Norman Osborn's residence—more of a private estate than a simple home. Peter followed Harry inside, where they found Norman in his study, meticulously reviewing documents beneath the glow of a desk lamp. The older Osborn looked up as they entered, his sharp green eyes fixing on Peter.
"Peter," Norman greeted, his voice measured yet welcoming. "I trust your search was fruitful?"
Peter nodded, stepping forward. "I found her. Echo."
Norman's expression barely shifted, but Peter could tell he was pleased. "And?"
"I was able to recall something from my dream. A name." Peter took a breath before saying it aloud. "Nanapush Kuwe."
The reaction was immediate. Norman's eyes gleamed with interest, a rare flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. He slowly leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Fascinating," Norman murmured. "That is a name I have not heard spoken aloud in quite some time."
"You've heard of it?" Peter asked, heart pounding slightly.
Norman nodded, steepling his fingers. "Nanapush Kuwe is one of the six names attributed to an ancient Lenape Spider God—one that has almost entirely faded from history. Few have managed to record even fragments of its legend."
Peter listened intently as Norman continued.
"Nanapush Kuwe represents the cunning and mischievous nature of the trickster figure. He is not a god of brute force, but of wit, adaptability, and deception. He outsmarts rather than overpowers. He survives through intelligence rather than strength."
Peter felt a chill run through him. That description—it fit him perfectly. Every time he donned the mask, every quip he made in battle, every time he outmaneuvered his enemies instead of taking them head-on… It was almost uncanny.
But Peter knew better than to dwell on that too much in front of Norman.
Instead, he straightened and took the next step in his plan. "I also know where Echo is. And I've found a way to get in touch with her."
Norman studied him carefully. "Then I assume you can summon her here?"
Peter hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet." He chose his next words carefully. "She's trying to uncover the truth behind the Six-Faced Spider God. If I'm going to convince her to meet with you, I need something real to bring her. Something substantial."
Norman's smirk returned. He appreciated the move Peter was making—using leverage, just as he would in any negotiation. With a slow nod, he stood from his desk.
"Very well," Norman said. "Then allow me to show you something that very few have ever seen."
He gestured for Peter to follow. Harry remained behind, watching curiously as his father led Peter down a long, dimly lit hallway.
Peter's pulse quickened.
Whatever was waiting at the end of that corridor… it was going to change everything.
The doors hissed open with a mechanical hum, revealing a stark, pristine chamber. The room was dimly lit, with only a single, focused light illuminating a pedestal at the center. Peter stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the object before him.
A glass orb encased within a reinforced glass box rested atop the pedestal, its surface gleaming under the artificial glow. Inside, suspended by four mechanical claws, was a piece of amber—deep gold, nearly glowing from within. Peter instinctively stepped closer, his enhanced senses picking up something wrong about the air surrounding it.
And then he saw it.
Encased within the amber, perfectly preserved, was a spider.
His stomach tightened. It looked just like the one that had bitten him.
Norman Osborn approached from behind, his voice calm yet filled with intrigue. "Magnificent, isn't it?"
Peter swallowed, his mind racing. "Where did you get this?"
Norman moved beside him, hands folded behind his back. "An auction in Delaware, many years ago. It was sold as a mere curiosity, a relic of nature trapped in time. But the seller—an eccentric collector of indigenous artifacts—told me otherwise."
Peter tore his gaze away from the spider and looked up at Norman, waiting.
The older man smiled faintly. "He told me that this amber contains the essence of Otali Kuwe—the 'Great Web Spider.'" His voice carried a weight to it, as though he had long pondered the significance of that name. "Unlike Nanapush Kuwe, who embodies wit and cunning, Otali Kuwe is the embodiment of interconnection. It represents the web that binds all things together. Probability, fate, causality… It weaves the world into patterns and forces events to shift in its favor."
Peter felt a chill crawl up his spine. Forces events to shift in its favor.
Was that what happened to him? Had Nanapush Kuwe chosen him, just as Echo said? Was that why his life had changed so drastically—why the impossible had become possible?
Peter forced himself to remain calm. He nodded slowly, carefully choosing his next words. "And… has this spider given you those abilities? The powers of Otali Kuwe?"
Norman exhaled through his nose, amused by the question. "No." His eyes gleamed as he turned to Peter. "If this amber truly contains the essence of Otali Kuwe, and it functions as the Lenape believed, then its presence here means I was not chosen." He smirked slightly. "It seems the Spider had no interest in me."
Peter barely stopped himself from exhaling in relief.
Norman turned back to the amber, resting a hand against the glass case. "But that does not make it useless. Quite the opposite." He glanced at Peter, his expression thoughtful. "This spider, this essence—it is a piece of something far greater. The Lenape spoke of a Six-Faced Spider God. If all aspects were reunited, if even one of them chose a bearer…" His fingers tapped against the glass. "Then one could begin to unravel the very threads of destiny itself."
Peter stiffened. "You think you can… break destiny?"
Norman chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I can understand it. Control it. Shape it into something better." His voice was almost reverent, filled with conviction. "Imagine it, Peter. A world where fate bends to will. Where chance is no longer a cruel master, but a tool to be wielded. If the Lenape legends hold any truth, then the Spider is the key to comprehending the very mysteries of life itself."
Peter's mind was spinning. He knew he had to play this carefully.
He glanced back at the amber. If Norman really believed in this, if he was truly searching for the power of the Spider, then Peter had to stay close—had to find out just how far Osborn was willing to go.
So he took a deep breath, steadied his expression, and asked the only question that would keep him in the game.
"What would it take," he said carefully, "to bring the Six-Faced Spider back together?"
Norman let Peter's question linger in the air, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. He turned back to the glass case, fingertips grazing the surface as though he could feel the weight of the knowledge within. Then, with a breath, he finally spoke.
"All six aspects of the Spider must be manifested in living beings," he said, his voice carrying the weight of certainty. "Only then can the Six-Faced Spider be reunited."
Peter felt his pulse quicken. "Manifested?"
Norman nodded. "The Six-Faced Spider does not exist as a single entity, not anymore. According to what little I've been able to piece together, its essence was splintered long ago. Each of its faces—a different aspect, a different purpose—was scattered across time and space. If the legends are true, then these fragments must choose their hosts. They must take shape in living vessels." He glanced at Peter, studying his reaction. "Only then can the Spider truly return."
Peter swallowed. The words rattled in his skull. Manifested in living beings. If Nanapush Kuwe had chosen him… then somewhere out there, five others could be going through the same experience.
"And you're saying you haven't found the others yet?" Peter asked.
Norman exhaled through his nose, a glint of frustration flashing in his eyes. "No. I have been searching for years—across the entire North American continent, following any trace, any legend that might lead me to them. But without a means to awaken them, my efforts have amounted to little more than speculation." He gestured to the amber case. "This, however, confirms what I had only theorized. These essences respond to one another. They call out to their counterparts. If one has awakened…"
Peter finished the thought for him. "Then the others will, too."
Norman's smile was sharp. "Exactly."
Peter felt the pieces clicking into place in his mind. Norman wasn't just hunting for knowledge—he was searching for the ones who would bear the other aspects of the Spider. The ones who would complete it.
And now Peter knew why Norman had been so desperate to find Echo.
"She's the key," Peter murmured, more to himself than to Norman.
Norman turned to him, eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "You understand now."
Peter did. Echo wasn't just another mystery to solve—she was the guide, the one who might know how to track down the other aspects. Maybe she was chosen by the Spider too. Maybe she had knowledge even she didn't realize was important. Either way, Norman needed her.
And that meant Peter had leverage.
Straightening, Peter nodded. "Alright. If there's something to reveal here… she should see it."
Norman arched an eyebrow. "You'll bring her to me, then?"
Peter pulled out the pager, his fingers hovering over the keys. He had to be careful. If Echo was as cautious as he suspected, she wouldn't come without reason. He needed to send a message that would let her know this was serious.
411. The signal that he had major information to share.
Then, after a pause, he added the numbers that would indicate the location—a place close to Osborn Tower, but not in it. A neutral ground. One where she would feel she had control.
He pressed send.
"She'll meet me soon," Peter said, slipping the pager back into his pocket. "I'll bring her back once I have her trust."
Norman nodded approvingly. "Then I look forward to what you bring me, Peter."
Peter turned to leave, but as he did, he felt the weight of Norman's gaze on him. Calculating. Measuring.
He kept his steps steady as he exited the secured room, his mind racing with what he had just learned. If Norman was right—if five others were out there—then this was just the beginning.
And Peter needed to make sure he stayed one step ahead.
The city hummed with life as Peter moved through the dimly lit streets, the glow of neon signs flickering against the wet pavement. He slipped into a narrow alleyway, finding a secluded corner where the shadows swallowed him whole. The noise of the city faded behind him, leaving only the distant echoes of sirens and the occasional footsteps of a passerby.
With practiced ease, he changed into his Spider-Man suit, stashing his clothes behind a dumpster. The moment the mask slid over his face, he felt the shift—Peter Parker fading into the background while Spider-Man took center stage.
Now, all that was left was to wait.
He crouched on a fire escape, his senses heightened, scanning the alley for any sign of movement. Echo was careful, deliberate. She wouldn't approach unless she was sure the meeting was safe. He respected that.
Minutes passed before he felt it—a presence, subtle but unmistakable. A shadow detached itself from the darkness, moving with a quiet grace that most people would miss. But Spider-Man wasn't most people.
"Nice of you to show," he said softly.
Echo stepped into the dim light, her piercing gaze meeting his. "You have news."
Spider-Man nodded. "More than just news. A discovery."
She crossed her arms. "I'm listening."
Taking a breath, he spoke. "I've been digging into Osborn—getting closer to figuring out what he's really after. And I found out that he's searching for the other five aspects of the Six-Faced Spider God. He believes that if he can reunite them, he'll understand the nature of destiny itself."
Echo's expression didn't shift, but he saw the way her fingers tensed at her sides.
"There's more," he continued. "Norman isn't just searching for them—he already has one."
That got her attention.
Spider-Man pressed on. "He owns a piece of amber that contains the essence of Otali Kuwe—the 'Great Web Spider.' The one that represents interconnection, probability, shifting events in its favor." He paused. "And if what I've learned about myself is true… then I'm proof that these aspects are waking up. Because I was chosen by Nanapush Kuwe."
For the first time, Echo took a slow breath, her expression darkening. "Then it's begun."
"What's begun?"
She lifted her gaze to him, her voice steady. "My ancestors understood that these essences hold great power… but also great danger. The fact that they were sealed away means something. They were cut off from humanity for a reason."
Spider-Man felt something shift in his chest. The power that now coursed through him—his agility, his instincts, the way he could move and fight—it had changed his life. But what if it wasn't meant to be his? What if it was never supposed to be passed down?
"You think awakening them is a mistake," he said.
"I think it's a risk," Echo corrected. "And if Osborn is as determined as you say he is, then he'll stop at nothing to see his ambitions fulfilled."
Spider-Man exhaled sharply, the weight of her words pressing against him. He hadn't asked for this power, but now that he had it, he had a responsibility. Not just to use it wisely, but to understand what it meant.
"Then what do I do?" he asked. "Now that I know he has one of the essences?"
Echo's expression was unreadable. "You steal it."
Spider-Man stiffened. "Whoa, hold on. Norman can't use it, right? The essence has to choose someone. If he just keeps it locked away, then no one else can manifest Otali Kuwe."
Echo shook her head. "You don't understand. If he's truly dedicated to awakening these aspects, he'll do whatever it takes to make sure they manifest. He won't just hold the essence—he'll find a way to force it into someone."
The thought sent a chill down Spider-Man's spine.
"If that happens," Echo continued, "Otali Kuwe's power could be in the hands of someone dangerous. Maybe even someone worse than Osborn."
Spider-Man clenched his jaw. He had come to this meeting expecting information, not a moral dilemma. But now, standing in the cold alley with Echo's words ringing in his ears, he realized he had a decision to make.
And he wasn't sure he liked the answer.
The cold night air carried the scent of salt and oil as Joseph Manfredi stood at the edge of the pier, the rhythmic lapping of waves filling the silence between him and his men. The boat was late. He hated waiting.
At his side, Lonnie Lincoln stood with his arms crossed, the dock's dim lighting casting shadows over his pale, unblinking eyes. "This is a lot of trouble for one job, Joe. You're sure about this?"
Joseph smirked. "Breaking into Oscorp isn't like robbing some bank. They got security measures we can't just muscle our way through. And now, with this Spider-Man swinging around, I ain't taking chances."
Lonnie grunted. "So you called in favors. That mean we're dealing with the X-Men?"
Joseph chuckled at the idea. "Please. I ain't looking to get involved in that mess. What I got are professionals—ones who don't have Xavier breathing down their necks. They're real good at what they do."
Right on cue, the sound of an engine echoed across the harbor. A long, black boat slid up to the dock, cutting through the water with practiced precision. The hull barely made a sound as it bumped against the pier. A lone figure stepped off first, moving with eerie grace—Klaus Voorhees, better known as Cobra.
Joseph spread his arms in greeting. "Cobra, long time no see."
Cobra's thin lips curled into a sly grin. "Joseph Manfredi. I take it business is booming if you've come to us."
Joseph gestured toward the others stepping off the boat: Viper—Jordan Stryke, his green suit as crisp as ever; Princess Python—Zelda DuBois, carrying herself with the confidence of someone who never took a job unless she had control; and Eel—Leopold Stryke, his brother, already cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
"This here's Lonnie Lincoln," Joseph said, motioning toward his partner. "He'll be helping oversee the job."
Cobra eyed Lonnie for a moment before turning his attention back to Joseph. "You mentioned Oscorp. I assume we're not here for some routine robbery."
Joseph's smirk widened. "That's right. Silvio's expecting me to prove myself, and that means getting our hands on something Norman Osborn's keeping under lock and key. But we got a problem—two of 'em."
He reached into his coat, pulling out a small stack of photos. He flipped through them before holding up an image of Spider-Man mid-swing. "First is this guy. Been making a name for himself, screwing up operations across the city."
He swapped the photo for another—grainy, unclear, but enough to show the silhouette of a second figure. "And this one… we don't know who they are yet, but they've been backing Spider-Man up. Means we're gonna get some attention whether we like it or not."
Viper scoffed. "And that's where we come in?"
Joseph knelt, placing a briefcase on the dock. With a flick of the latch, he opened it, revealing neatly stacked gold bars reflecting the moonlight.
Cobra's grin widened. "You make a compelling argument."
Joseph leaned in. "Then let's get to work."
Inside a dimly lit lounge overlooking the city, Saya Ishii sat at a sleek, minimalist table, her fingers gliding over the controller in her hand. The device was custom-made—sleek, compact, and deadly in the right hands. Her miniature drones, currently disguised as delicate silver earrings, hovered for a brief moment before clicking back into place along the curve of her ear. These weren't just accessories; they were her silent weapons.
She had been preparing for this. She knew that facing Spider-Man wasn't as simple as pulling a trigger. Conventional weapons wouldn't be enough—not against someone with reflexes that defied physics. To bring him down, she needed distractions, openings, and fear.
That's why she was here.
Across from her sat Antoine Desloin, better known as the Hypno-Hustler. His purple-tinted shades reflected the neon glow of the club's signage behind him, his fingers lazily tapping against the table in rhythm with the muffled bass thumping through the walls. Saya knew his talents—his hypnotic music and sound-based technology had left more than a few people in a daze, unaware they had been robbed blind.
Next to him, Daniel Brito—The Dagger—leaned against the booth, casually spinning a butterfly knife between his fingers. Saya had read up on him. A skilled assassin, he thrived in the underworld where quick, silent kills were currency. He was precise, efficient, and ruthless.
"Alright," Antoine drawled, adjusting his shades. "You called us here. I'm guessing it ain't just to listen to some beats?"
Saya smirked, placing the controller down on the table. "I need specialists. Not just any street-level muscle—people who can think while they fight. And most importantly… people who can handle a challenge."
Daniel flipped his knife shut and raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about Spider-Man."
Saya's smirk didn't fade. "Him and the woman who's been helping him—Echo. They've been disrupting the wrong people's business. I have my own reasons to put them down, but I'm offering you both a chance at something bigger."
Antoine chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Lady, I've seen Spider-Man in action. Dude's a problem. You want us to just run at him with knives and some funky tunes?"
Saya tapped her controller, and her earrings detached, unfolding into razor-sharp blades that hovered midair. With a flick of her wrist, they shot across the room, embedding themselves into the wooden paneling with perfect accuracy before clicking back into their original shape, returning to her.
"No," she said smoothly. "I want you to cripple him. You control the rhythm, Hustler—you disrupt his senses. And you, Brito, you strike when he's off-balance. You don't fight Spider-Man head-on. You make sure he never even gets a chance."
Daniel hummed in thought. "And Echo?"
Saya leaned forward. "She relies on perception, right? Her ability to read movements, anticipate actions. But that means her strength is also her weakness."
Antoine caught on quickly. "You're saying if we distort what she perceives…"
"She's just another fighter in the dark." Saya crossed her arms. "This is the best opportunity for you both. Spider-Man and Echo are carving out a reputation in our world. That means the people we answer to are watching. You prove yourselves here, and you don't just get paid—you get power."
Antoine glanced at Daniel, then back at Saya. A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, lady. You got yourself a crew."
Saya picked up her controller, the earrings clicking back into place. "Then let's make sure Spider-Man and Echo never see what's coming."
The night air was thick with tension as Joseph Manfredi stepped out from the shadows of the shipping yard, his presence announced by the faint metallic echo of his dress shoes against the concrete. Behind him, Lonnie Lincoln stood like a monolith, his arms crossed while the members of the Serpent Squad lingered nearby, adjusting their gear and quietly exchanging words.
Across from them, Saya Ishii stood with her own assembled force. Hypno-Hustler leaned against a rusted shipping container, idly adjusting the settings on his sonic amplifier, while The Dagger flicked his blade open and shut with unsettling patience. Saya herself was poised as always, holding the controller in her hand, her earrings shimmering under the dim glow of the dock lights.
Joseph exhaled sharply. "Gotta admit, Saya, you work fast. Not many people can get a crew together as quick as I can." He smirked, motioning toward the Serpent Squad. "Had to pay a pretty penny to make sure real professionals were on the job."
Saya remained unimpressed. "Money buys muscle, Joseph. Persuasion builds loyalty." Her gaze flicked toward Antoine Desloin and Daniel Brito, both of whom had been convinced to join her through careful manipulation. She didn't throw money around recklessly—she invested in people's ambition, their desires.
Joseph scoffed. "Loyalty's only good 'til the cash runs out. Or until someone makes a better offer." His expression darkened as he took a step forward. "But I ain't here to argue business models. I just want one thing clear—you might have put together a decent crew, but you weren't the one who took a hit from Spider-Man and walked away."
He pulled back his coat slightly, revealing the still-healing wound beneath his shirt. The damage Spider-Man had done to him was fresh, a constant reminder of why he was doing this. "I earned the right to take that punk down."
Saya arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And that's why you're making this personal, Joseph. You think you're the one who deserves to bring him down because he hurt your pride." She tilted her head slightly, a cold smirk playing on her lips. "I don't care about personal vendettas. I care about results. And the one who succeeds will be the one who deserves it."
Joseph's smirk faltered for just a second before he exhaled, shaking his head. "You always were the calculated type. But let's be real here—you and I both know we're gunning for the same thing."
"The spider Norman Osborn is keeping," Saya finished for him, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "And if either of us has to eliminate the other to get it…"
Joseph's fingers flexed slightly, but he didn't make a move. Instead, he chuckled. "Guess that's the game we're playing, huh?"
Saya nodded. "But for now, we don't step on each other's toes. We get the job done. Then we'll see who's still standing when the dust settles."
Joseph met her gaze, and for a brief moment, an understanding passed between them. They were both predators, both ruthless in their own way. And while they wouldn't waste energy fighting each other tonight… neither would hesitate when the time came.
Lonnie Lincoln cracked his knuckles, breaking the silence. "So, we doin' this or what?"
Joseph grinned, adjusting his tie. "Yeah. We are."
Saya simply smirked, tapping her controller as her drones flickered into position. "Then let's get to work."
The city's lights flickered below as Spider-Man perched on the rooftop's edge, staring into the night. The air was thick with the weight of what Echo had told him—the Six-Faced Spider God wasn't just a legend. It was stirring, and if Norman Osborn had his way, it would awaken.
His gloved fingers curled into fists. He hadn't asked for this. He never asked to be chosen by Nanapush Kuwe, never asked to be caught in something older than history itself. But now that he was here, now that he knew what was at stake, there was no turning away.
Behind him, Echo stood, arms crossed. "I know this isn't easy," she said. "But you understand now why we can't let Osborn hold onto the essence of Otali Kuwe."
Spider-Man exhaled sharply through his mask. "Yeah… I get it. If these things are waking up, then we're talking about something huge. Something bigger than either of us. If we let this spiral out of control, we might not be able to stop it."
Echo nodded. "That's why we have to move fast. Tomorrow, Osborn won't be expecting an attack. He'll be coming down from a meeting, his defenses will be lower. It's the only opening we'll get before he starts putting the pieces together."
Spider-Man rubbed the back of his head. "Right… a heist. Because nothing says 'great power, great responsibility' like breaking and entering." He sighed. "Fine. We go in, we get the essence, and we make sure it doesn't end up in worse hands."
Echo studied him for a moment. "You're still hesitant."
Spider-Man hesitated. "It's just… I don't know if I want to believe all this destiny stuff. But I do believe in people being dangerous when they chase power." He turned to face her fully. "And I know Norman. If he's got Otali Kuwe, then he's not just keeping it locked up—he's planning something. Which means we can't afford to hesitate."
Echo crossed her arms. "Then we move forward. But we have to be smart."
Spider-Man took a deep breath. "Yeah, about that. There's someone I want you to meet."
Echo raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
He hesitated for just a second before answering. "His name's Peter Parker."
Echo frowned slightly. "And why do I need to meet him?"
Spider-Man crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Because Peter Parker will be the one walking into Oscorp tomorrow. He'll be there to keep Norman distracted while you find Otali Kuwe."
Understanding flickered in Echo's eyes. "You're going in without the mask."
Spider-Man nodded. "It's the only way to make sure Norman's attention stays anywhere but where you'll be. He knows who I am—at least, the public version of me. If I play this right, he won't see the heist coming."
Echo was quiet for a moment before giving a small nod. "Risky. But effective." She met his gaze. "You sure you can pull it off?"
Spider-Man smirked behind his mask. "Trust me. I've been balancing double lives since I was fifteen. Norman won't even see it coming."
Echo studied him carefully before finally nodding. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, we take the essence. And we make sure Norman never gets the chance to use it."
Spider-Man's smile faded as he looked out over the city once more. He was making a choice. And once they set this plan in motion… there was no going back.