If the Osborn family's hereditary disease wasn't an illness but a demonic curse, then everything would make sense.
Harry cured his disease using spider serum.
The demon hiding in the shadows wasn't satisfied and cursed again that very night, leaving no room for doubt and taking Harry away in one fell swoop.
The more Gwen thought about it, the more likely it seemed to be a demon, and her eyes lit up as she looked at Hawke.
"What do we do next?"
"Next."
Hawke looked at Gwen, who seemed to enjoy watching the drama unfold, smiled slightly, paused, and then, under Gwen's expectant gaze, said, "I'll take you home, and then I'll go home too, and we'll sleep together."
Gwen's pretty face fell.
"Hawk."
"That's a demon! I haven't even found the entrance to Hell yet, do you think I can find this demon who might already be back in Hell?"
Hawke shook his head helplessly.
He had just activated all five senses after the funeral, trying to see if he could find this demon hiding in the shadows.
If he was lucky, he might even learn about the entrance to Hell on Earth from the demon.
Then, after getting the Reality Stone, he wouldn't linger and would head straight to Hell.
And then he'd try to bring his sister Anya back to Earth for Christmas.
But the power was plentiful, and reality was harsh.
He didn't see the demon at the funeral.
If the Osborne family curse was indeed the work of a demon, with Harry's death, the Osborne lineage was effectively extinct.
If nothing unexpected happened, the demon had already returned to Hell.
He just didn't know what Osborne had done to attract the demon's curse.
Hawke thought to himself.
After taking Gwen home, he returned to Palm Street.
After taking a shower, he didn't go to bed but went to his study, turned on the computer the previous owner had given him, and, thinking about Osborne's curse, started searching for information online.
Osborne's rise to power was very clear.
Norman Osborne sold his family's herring canning production line, converted it into an arms production line, and then rapidly amassed his fortune through the profits of war.
Norman Osborn already had a hereditary disease at that time.
So it must have been even earlier.
But online, there's almost nothing, if not very little, about the Osborn family before Norman Osborn.
After searching unsuccessfully, Hawke stroked his chin, thought for a moment, took out his phone, and directly found the third number in his contacts—Peter's number—and dialed it.
The call connected quickly.
"Hello?"
"The Osborne family aren't native New Yorkers, are they?"
"Yeah Hey, don't move!"
"..."
Hawke, listening to the commotion on the other end of the line, subconsciously glanced at the time in the lower right corner of his computer screen: "Eleven o'clock, still out?"
Peter on the other end said, "I went back, but it felt a bit strange, so I came out for some exercise."
Hawke casually replied, then steered the conversation back on track.
"Where did the Osborne family move from?"
"London."
Peter once again used his spider silk to seal a night robber to the wall, while listening to Hawke on the phone: "The Osbornes' ancestral home is in London.
Otherwise, why would Harry have gone to study in London?"
London?
Not Texas, the place with the most demons.
Hawke thought to himself.
"Do you know exactly when the Osborn family's hereditary disease started?"
"Hereditary why do you ask?"
"I can't sleep."
"Okay."
Peter, finding Hawke's reason irrefutable, nodded and frowned.
"Harry didn't seem to say exactly when it started, but I heard him say that when their family moved from Massachusetts to New York City, family members began to show symptoms."
Hawke raised an eyebrow.
"Wait a minute, Massachusetts? Didn't you say they moved from London?"
"Osborn was among the first passengers on the Mayflower, and their initial stop was Massachusetts."
Peter explained, then thought for a moment. "I remember Harry mentioning where they settled back then right, Salem.
Yes, I remember that, because I specifically looked it up when I went back. Osborn moved to New York City after the Salem tragedy."
The Salem tragedy?
The Salem witch trials!
Hawke's brow furrowed.
He suddenly had a feeling that he had probably found the reason why Osborn was cursed by the devil.
However he needed to verify it.
Hawke, lost in thought, hung up the phone and began searching online for information related to the Salem Witchcraft Affair.
The Mayflower landed in Massachusetts in 1620,while the Salem Witchcraft Affair occurred in 1692.
These tragedies shocked the entire Union; at the time, nineteen witches were recorded as being killed, and countless others were not.
As the Union's first witchcraft case, the Salem Witchcraft Affair was far more popular online than the Osborn family case.
Almost every year, curious netizens would provide the latest clues and information about the Salem Witchcraft Affair.
So Hawke didn't need to exert much effort.
Through an online forum dedicated to discussing the Salem Witchcraft Affair, he quickly found a familiar surname in a yellowed scanned document.
On April 22, 1692, Hathaway and Osborn interrogated twelve witches face-to-face. In the end, Osborn only dropped the charges against one witch and burned the rest at the stake.
In layman's terms it means tying these eleven witches to a pile of wood, setting it on fire, and burning them alive.
Hiss!
Hawke felt he had found evidence.
Just then.
"Honey, thank you."
"What the hell!"
"Hawk, come quick, under the Manhattan Bridge."
"Beep beep!"
Hawk snapped back to reality, looking at the phone that had suddenly run into Peter's voice before cutting off, raised an eyebrow, and instantly left the study.
Under the Manhattan Bridge.
Peter, dressed in a red and blue Spider-Man suit, was suspended in mid-air, his limbs spread as wide as possible, like a starfish bound in mid-air.
His phone lay beside him.
Bound in the air, Peter strained his arms, his muscles tense, trying to break free.
But it was useless.
The fabric of Peter's suit was torn, yet he remained firmly bound in mid-air.
His eyes widened, staring at the surreal scene before him.
A Hellscream, seemingly surrounded by blue flames, opened her right hand towards Peter, slowly rotating it.
Peter, bound in mid-air, rotated along with the rotating hand.
The Hellscream's voice was eerie.
"Anyone who helps Osborn will die."
"Is that so?"
Hawke's voice followed closely.
The Hellscream's eyes, glowing with blue flames, narrowed sharply, and her right hand swung towards the source of the voice.
Boom!
The blue flames exploded in Hawke's fist.
Hawke then emerged from the exploding blue flames.
Peter landed on the ground with a thud, shooting out a web without hesitation, and then swooshing down to land steadily beside Hawke.
"Hawk, what the hell is that?"
"The Salem Witch,"
Hawke said, his gaze fixed on the Hellscream, who was engulfed in blue flames.
"We didn't know Osborn was cursed by you, which is why he has a family disease. There's no need to attack us."
Peter was somewhat bewildered.
Hawke then cut to the chase, explaining that Osborn's hereditary disease was most likely the result of the Salem Witch's curse after they burned her alive.
Peter was even more confused now.
"The Salem Witch isn't she fake?"
"There's a high chance she was wrongly accused, but this one is definitely a real witch."
And a powerful one at that.
After all a witch who can escape from Hell for revenge must be incredibly powerful.
Peter listened to Hawke's explanation, opened his mouth, still somewhat confused.
"Then why is he looking for me?"
"Your blood healed Harry, so the witch is taking her anger out on you."
"Hiss!"
Peter gasped, then looked at the Hellscream standing in front of them, motionless, flickering with blue flames, silently watching them, recalling the scene where he had been powerless to resist.
"How do you kill this thing?"
"You can't kill it."
"What?"
"You know magic attacks?"
"No."
"Then that's settled."
Hawke's five senses were fully activated, and he could easily see that the Hellscream in front of him was in a formless state.
To be precise, the Hellscream in front of him felt like a pieced-together soul, naturally immune to physical attacks.
As everyone knows,the Phoenix Illusion Fist is not a magic attack, but a mental attack.
The most important point.
Wearing the Phoenix Cloth just to deal with this Hellswitch who's only after his own revenge?
Hawke couldn't do it.
Peter couldn't help but take another deep breath.
"Then what do we do?"
"Let's see if we can make peace. Even a starved camel is bigger than a horse. I remember Harry has several uncles, right?"
"Didn't you see at the funeral? He was shouting that the will was fake, and then Felicia kicked him out."
If Harry hadn't left a will, his uncles would theoretically have inheritance rights.
But Harry left a will, and his uncles got nothing.
Capitalist society doesn't have concepts of humanitarianism or humanitarian compensation.
"As long as there are those with the surname Osborn,"
Hawke said, then turned to the Hellswitch glowing blue and said, "We didn't know beforehand, but now we do. We promise we won't interfere with the remaining Osborns. You can continue your revenge; we know nothing."
The blue light around the Hellswitch flickered eerily.
After a while.
*Whoosh!*
Beneath the Manhattan Bridge, the blue flames vanished, and the Hellscream disappeared with them.
...
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