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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5

Times Square, the heart of New York's theater district, sat between Broadway's glowing marquees and the city's endless current of energy. It was a bustling hub of entertainment and shopping, alive with light and laughter. But tonight, that brilliance was destined to turn into chaos.

Amid the endless crowd, a man in a black pullover moved with uneasy purpose. Veins glowed faintly beneath his translucent, bluish skin, and his face twisted in a feral grimace. His eyes darted restlessly from side to side—searching. Then, suddenly, his gaze fixed on something.

He shoved through the crowd and ran toward a section of the underground power grid managed by Oscorp. Dropping to his knees, he tore open the protective mesh and reached eagerly for the thick cables beneath.

"Ah—!"

Max Dillon cried out in a strange mix of pain and relief as electricity surged into his body. The people nearby screamed and scattered, while the lights across Manhattan flickered violently.

At that same moment, miles away on Sixth Avenue, Peter Parker's Spider-Sense flared. He stiffened, abandoning his date mid-conversation. In seconds, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was back—swinging high over the streets on strands of webbing.

Meanwhile, police officers stationed near Times Square were already reacting.

"Send a unit to the south corner of the square!" an officer shouted into his radio, even as they began ushering people away.

"Sir! Step away from the cables! Hands up—hands where I can see them!" another officer yelled at Max.

But Max wasn't listening. He was lost in the flow of electricity surging through him. His skin gleamed brighter and brighter until every screen in Times Square flickered, showing his glowing face reflected across the city's giant billboards.

When he finally looked up, power coursing through him, his expression twisted into something monstrous. The officers raised their weapons immediately.

"Freeze! Don't move! Down on the ground!"

Before they could act, a truck came careening toward Max. Startled, he threw up his hands—and the truck froze mid-charge, caught in a storm of blue lightning. The current wrapped around it like invisible hands, lifted it high, and then slammed it gently onto its side.

Max stared at his hands in disbelief. He didn't understand what was happening—but instinct screamed that he should run.

The police surrounded him instead, patrol cars sliding into position.

"Get down now! Hands behind your head!"

"Don't—don't do this! It's not my fault!" Max cried, his voice trembling.

But no one listened. Orders and shouts drowned his pleas.

Then Max caught sight of himself—his shining reflection displayed across every massive screen. The crowd was looking at him.

"They see me… people are looking at me!" he whispered, eyes wide. For once, the invisible man was seen. The attention he had craved his whole life was his at last.

Sparks danced along the cables at his feet. The police shouted again. Tear gas canisters were pulled and thrown.

"Stop! Please don't!" Max begged, reaching out desperately.

"That's it, freak!" one officer sneered.

"It's not my fault! I said Stop!"

But the tension snapped.

Blue-purple lightning exploded outward, a wave of electricity tearing through the square. Cars flipped, windows shattered, and people were hurled back by the shockwave.

Police vehicles crashed into buildings, one slamming toward an officer—only to be caught at the last instant by a flash of red and blue.

"Hey, buddy! Good thing you're not a mounted cop!" Spider-Man quipped, setting the car gently aside.

Across the square, Max stood trembling. Electricity still crackled over his body, uncontrolled. The officers opened fire—but the bullets never reached him. They melted midair, vaporized by the aura of power surrounding him.

"All units, cease fire! I repeat, cease fire and await my command!" the officer Spider-Man had barked into his radio.

The gunfire stopped.

Spider-Man perched atop a police car and called out, "Hey! Hey, shiny guy! Chill out, okay?"

Max's head jerked toward the voice. His eyes widened.

"It's you…" He said, almost reverently.

"Uh, yeah, it's me," Spider-Man replied, tilting his head. "And you are…?"

"You don't remember? I was walking down the street—almost got hit by a car—you saved me! You said you needed me!" Max's words tumbled out in a rush.

"Oh! The blueprint guy!" Spider-Man snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I remember you!"

"Yes, that's me! The one with the blueprint!" Max's voice cracked with excitement.

"Of course I remember you," Spider-Man said warmly, hopping down from the car. "You're my eyes and ears, remember? What's your name again?"

The casual tone didn't register the same way for Max.

"How could you forget me?" he said accusingly, his voice trembling.

"I remember! Don't worry!" Spider-Man said quickly, scratching his head.

"My name's Max," he said softly.

"Right—Max! Sorry, it took me a second," Spider-Man said with an apologetic grin. "So, uh, what's going on here?"

He tried to sound light, unaware that a sniper now had Max in his sights.

"I don't know…" Max said helplessly, staring at the crackling current dancing over his palms. "I feel strange. I'm full of energy—and full of anger."

In the watching crowd, Harry Osborn pushed forward until he could see clearly. The moment his eyes met Max's glowing form, his system interface flickered to life.

Name: Maxwell Dillon

Age: 35

Physical Condition: Healthy (Energy Lifeform)

Ability: Power Mastery (50)

Item: None

Harry frowned. He had always assumed the "Physical Condition" tag referred only to human illness, but now he realized it could analyze structure itself—Max wasn't even human anymore. His body was pure energy.

A Power rating of fifty, the same as Spider-Man's Spider-Sense. "What a waste," Harry murmured, regretful. He would've loved to obtain that ability, but his points were too low.

"What?" Felicia asked beside him, confused.

"Ah, nothing," Harry said quickly. He couldn't explain it—and now wasn't the time. The event he'd been waiting for was unfolding right before him.

"Hey, man," Harry called out, stepping closer.

Max turned toward him. Harry's voice was calm, almost gentle. Deep down, he felt pity for the man—someone broken, desperate for recognition.

Maybe, just maybe, he could still be saved.

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