[3rd Person]
"This is Whitney Chang, Channel 6, joined by the web-slinger himself after a dramatic hostage situation downtown. Spider-Man, thanks for—whatever this is. An interview? A sidewalk chat? Spider-cast?" she asked.
"Let's call it a friendly neighbourhood press conference. Just me, you, and a million confused pigeons." Peter jokingly replied.
"Tonight, you singlehandedly stopped eight armed robbers and—this is real—a mutant bull-man hiding in the bathroom. Care to walk us through that?" asked Whitney.
"Sure. Eight guys thought it'd be fun to rob a bank like it's 'Grand Theft Auto: New York'. Then their backup plan turned out to be Man-Bull. Who, by the way, smells like a gym sock filled with rage and protein powder." Peter answered.
"And how did you handle Man-Bull?" asked Whitney, a small smirk across her face.
"Like I handle most problems: panic first, quip second, improvise third. He trashed a lobby; I trashed his ego. We call that even." Peter replied.
"Sources say you used the environment to your advantage. Columns, chandeliers, vending machines?" questioned Whitney.
"Let's just say he picked a fight in a building full of throwable objects. Classic rookie mistake." Peter responded.
"Any injuries?" she enquired.
"Only to my pride. And maybe my spine. Ask me again in the morning," replied Peter, his back still hurting from being slammed into the ground, not to mention the web swinging.
"Some critics say superhero interference only escalates these situations. What do you say to them?" asked Whitney.
Peter paused for a while before responding. "Hostages are safe. No one died. The robbers are webbed up like discount Halloween decorations. That's my answer." Peter continued.
"Do you ever worry that being Spider-Man puts people in more danger?" asked Whitney, more serious in tone.
"Every day. But doing nothing? That'd be worse. At least this way… someone's watching out for them," replied Peter, speaking more softly.
"And who watches out for you?" questioned Whitney.
"Hopefully not J. Jonah Jameson." Peter joked, a smile under his mask.
"You've saved a lot of people tonight, but you also left a bank lobby looking like it hosted a kaiju wrestling match. Any thoughts on property damage?" asked Whitney.
"Yeah, it's not my favourite part. But between wrecked marble and wrecked lives, I'll pick the marble. Plus, I think the vending machine survived. That's a win," replied Peter, wondering where he left the open packet of crisps as he glanced at his empty hands.
"Do you ever worry the criminals are getting stronger? Man-Bull isn't exactly your average stickup guy," asked Whitney.
"Lately it's less 'bad guys with guns' and more 'biochemically altered monsters in tactical gear.' Makes me miss the days when robbers just wore ski masks and tripped over their own shoelaces," replied Peter, remembering the time when superhumans didn't exist, to which his mind turned nothing since they've been around all his life. How times change.
"With threats escalating like that… how long can you keep this up?" questioned Whitney.
"…As long as someone needs help. Or until gravity finally wins. Whichever comes first." Peter replied after a short pause.
"One last question: we've seen you fight, save, and even joke through chaos. But… who is Spider-Man, really?" wondered Whitney.
"Someone trying to make sure tomorrow's a little better than today. Even if it's just by one web, one person, one quip at a time." Peter answered, a smile under the mask.
"From chaos to clarity, from concrete to the clouds — that's Spider-Man. Reporting live, I'm Whitney Chang. Stay safe, New York." She answered off, facing the camera and stopping the recording.
"Is it off?" Peter enquired.
"Yep, all done, Spider-Man. Great work!" She replied.
"Really? It was good, right? I was charming? Funny? Cool?" Peter blurted out.
"It was your best one yet. How far you've come; it would make any parent proud," replied Whitney, mocking Peter. "But in all seriousness, are you okay?" She added.
"Define 'okay'. Bruised ribs and a little head trauma mixed in with some mild existential dread. Just a normal Tuesday," Peter replied with a grin.
"Thank you for everything. Not many superheroes would have listened to a small-time reporter like me. Though you did need some good PR." She replied, sincerely.
"Hey, it's better than being called a 'menace' after every breath by a guy whose moustache could host its own talk show. I seriously don't get why he hates me specifically; maybe it's instinctual?" replied Peter.
"Jameson's a fossil; more people listen to him than you think," she replied with a faint smile.
"Not sure how to feel about that," Peter replied.
Whitney paused, "You ever think about talking off the mask, even for a moment?" She asked, curious.
"Every day, but then I think about what happens if I do," replied Peter, more quiet than usual.
"Isn't it exhausting, living two lives?" Asked Whitney.
"I would not recommend it. It's hard living a normal life with being a punching bag for supervillains as your hobby," replied Peter softly while half laughing, thinking about Harry and Elaine.
"For what it's worth, I think the world is better with you in it. Mask or not." Replied Whitney, stepping closer to Peter and speaking more gently.
"Thanks. That means more than you know," replied Peter, feeling a gust of wind across his face. "Now excuse me, I have a hot date with a microwaved burrito and some bruised dignity," added Peter, lightening the mood.
"Take care, web-head!" Said Whitney.
"You too," replied Peter before swinging away.
[Peter] - 2 AM
I can't sleep, again. Every time I close my eyes, I see 3D-Man… see Vulcan tearing him apart. I should've saved him. I was right there. I sit up. Breathe. My chest feels tight, like the ceiling's pressing down on me.
Elaine texted me tonight; she wants to see a movie tomorrow. I told her I was busy. Again. Another excuse, another moment lost. Harry's pulling away too. And honestly? I can't blame him. I'm always late, always lying. I hate it. I've tried to pull him back, but I always end up swinging away. Like a robot, programmed for only one purpose.
Aunt May pretends not to notice the bruises, the exhaustion. Maybe she knows someone. Maybe she's just waiting for the day I don't come home.
I'm trying to hold onto everything – love, friendship, family – but every time I grab one, the others fall apart. I don't know how much more I can stretch.
But if I stop… someone else gets hurt. So I won't. I can't.
Peter Parker pays the price so Spider-Man can keep going. As an icon. Never failing. He can't.
That's the deal.
That's the curse.