The day bled into night.
For once, the city had slowed down—at least on the surface. No major disasters, no collapsing buildings… nothing like earlier.
Peter swung lazily between buildings, rolling his shoulders.
"Hostage situation, almost got crushed in a fire…" he muttered. "Yeah, pretty normal day."
He adjusted his swing, already thinking about heading home—
Then—
Gunfire.
Sharp. Close.
Peter's head snapped toward the sound.
"…Of course."
He changed direction instantly.
—
When he landed, it was already wrong.
Too quiet.
Police cars sat at odd angles, doors open. Several officers lay on the ground—
And a strange green smoke hung in the air.
Peter didn't hesitate.
"Okay—nope, that's not good."
Thwip!
He shot webs at the nearest officers and yanked them out of the cloud, dragging them across the pavement to safer ground.
One by one, he pulled them clear.
Then he stopped.
"…Uh."
Their skin—
It wasn't normal.
Scales.
Faint at first, but spreading.
Peter crouched closer, eyes narrowing behind the mask.
"Yeah… definitely not normal."
Thinking fast, he webbed them carefully to a nearby wall—secure, but not hurting them.
"Stay put," he muttered. "Not like you've got a choice…"
He grabbed one officer's radio, clicking it on.
"This is Spider-Man," he said. "I need to speak with Captain Stacy. Now."
Static.
Then—
"…Identify yourself."
Peter resisted the urge to sigh. "Pretty sure I just did. Friendly neighborhood, red and blue, swings a lot—ringing any bells?"
A pause.
Then—
"Go ahead."
Peter didn't waste time.
"Five officers down," he said quickly. "They've been exposed to some kind of airborne… something. They're showing signs of mutation—scales, rapid onset. I've secured them at the corner of 52nd and Madison."
More static.
Then—
"I'm on my way."
—
It didn't take long.
George Stacy arrived fast, stepping out of his vehicle and taking in the scene immediately.
His eyes moved to his officers.
"They alive?" he demanded.
Peter nodded. "Yeah. But they're infected. I got them out of the smoke before it got worse."
George stepped closer, seeing the scales for himself.
His jaw tightened.
"What the hell is this?"
Peter hesitated for half a second.
"…Dr. Connors."
George looked at him sharply.
Peter continued. "He's not himself. Whatever he turned into—it's spreading something. A contagion. That green smoke? That's how it's getting out."
George's expression darkened. "You're telling me this is connected to Oscorp?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah. And if I had to guess—he's heading there."
"Why?"
Peter's voice dropped slightly.
"Because Oscorp has the tech to make it worse," he said. "A lot worse. I think he's planning to use some kind of device to spread it across the entire city."
That hit.
Hard.
George muttered something under his breath—
"…Gwen…"
Peter froze.
Gwen.
Oscorp.
She was there.
His head snapped up.
"I have to go," Peter said immediately.
George looked at him. "What—"
"I made a cure its at oscorp," Peter said quickly. "Or—something close. I've been working on it. If I can get to Connors, I can stop this."
George stared at him for a second.
Then gave a sharp nod. "Then go."
Peter didn't need to be told twice.
He fired a webline—
and launched himself into the night, moving faster than he had all day.
Police lights cut through the night as George Stacy barked orders into his radio.
"All available units—respond to Oscorp. That's an order."
He didn't slow as he drove.
Switching channels, his voice sharpened. "Lieutenant, I want a full evacuation. Five-block radius around Oscorp—clear it. Now."
Static.
Then: "Copy that."
—
High above the streets, Peter swung hard, faster than he had all night.
He pulled out his phone mid-swing and called Gwen.
It rang once.
Twice—
"Peter?"
"Where are you?" he asked immediately.
"I'm at Oscorp," she said. "I'm—"
"You need to get out of there. Right now."
A pause. "…Now?"
"Yes, now!" Peter snapped. "Connors is coming. He needs the dispersal device—he's going to try and infect the whole city. People are going to die, Gwen. You need to leave. That's not a suggestion—that's an order, okay?"
Silence for half a second.
Then—
"I'm not leaving people behind," she said. "I'll get everyone out."
"Gwen—"
But the line went dead.
Peter clenched his jaw.
"Dammit… why is she like this?"
A beat.
"…That's why I like her so much."
He pushed harder, swinging faster.
—
Across the city, news broadcasts lit up screens everywhere.
"We're now getting details—this is just coming in. The police department has called for a city-wide evacuation. Everything south of 54th Street—if you are in that area, leave immediately."
Footage cut in.
Grainy.
Shaky.
A massive reptilian figure climbing the side of Oscorp Tower, a device strapped to its back.
"This is not Killer Croc, who remains incarcerated at Arkham Asylum in Gotham."
The image zoomed.
The creature moved fast.
Purposeful.
—
Peter saw it from blocks away.
"…Connors."
He angled his swing—
then fired two web lines to either side of a building.
He hit the ground running, pulling them tight—
—and slingshotted himself upward.
The force launched him straight toward Oscorp.
At the peak—
he hit the glass—
and kept running.
Up the side of the building.
—
Below, chaos.
People rushed out of the building, guided by officers.
Gwen burst through the doors—
and ran straight into her father.
"Dad—!"
"Gwen!" George grabbed her shoulders. "You need to—"
"I have to get this up there," she said quickly, holding up a small vial. "It's a cure—I can stop him—Spider-Man needs this."
George's expression hardened instantly.
"Get in the car."
"What? No—Dad, this could stop—"
"I said get in the car!" he snapped, pulling open the door and guiding her toward it.
Gwen resisted. "You don't understand—!"
"I understand that I'm not letting you run into that!" he shot back.
She clenched the vial tighter.
"He's not going to be able to stop him without this!"
George paused.
Then held out his hand.
"Give it to me."
Gwen hesitated.
"…Dad—"
"I'll get it to him," he said firmly. "But you are not going up there."
The moment stretched.
Then—
Reluctantly—
she placed the vial in his hand.
George nodded once.
"Stay here."
while captian stacy made his way to the roof peter was confrinting dr.connors
Peter crested the edge of Oscorp Tower just in time to see it—
Curt Connors—or what he'd become—activating the device strapped to his back.
"…Nope."
Peter fired a webline to the tip of the tower and swung hard, using the momentum to drive both feet straight into the Lizard's face.
The impact sent the creature staggering—
—and over the edge.
"Gotcha—wait—!"
The Lizard's hand snapped out, grabbing Peter's leg and dragging him down with him.
They fell.
Trading blows midair.
Claw against fist.
Tail whipping.
Peter barely twisted in time to avoid getting his head taken off.
They crashed onto the lower rooftop in a violent roll.
Peter hit hard but bounced back to his feet just as the Lizard swiped at him—
he ducked, sliding under the attack and firing a webline to pull himself away—
—but the Lizard grabbed his ankle again.
"Why does that keep working?!"
He was yanked back and slammed into a wall.
Hard.
Before he could recover, the Lizard hurled him off the side of the building.
Peter reacted on instinct—
thwip!
A webline shot out, catching the structure. He swung back, slamming into the wall and immediately running upward again.
"Okay, new plan—less getting thrown—"
He reached the roof again just as the Lizard hurled a container of liquid nitrogen at him.
Peter twisted midair, dodging as it shattered behind him in a burst of frost.
He fired a web at the Lizard's face—
—but it was ripped away instantly.
"Yeah, that tracks."
The Lizard's tail snapped out—
wrapping around Peter and yanking him forward.
Peter slammed into the creature's chest, pinned.
Claws rose—
reaching for his mask.
"Oh, come on—can we not—"
A gunshot rang out.
Peter's head snapped to the side—
George Stacy stood there, firing again—this time hitting a pipe running along the rooftop.
It burst.
Liquid nitrogen sprayed everywhere.
Peter didn't hesitate.
He twisted free just enough to grab the hose, wrenching it loose and swinging it up—
"Hey, big guy—cool off!"
He blasted the Lizard point-blank.
Frost spread rapidly across its body, freezing its arm and tail in place.
Another shot—
George shattered part of the frozen limb, forcing the creature to stagger.
"Spider-Man!" George shouted, tossing something toward him.
The vial.
Peter caught it without looking.
Didn't even think.
He turned and fired a webline—
launching himself straight toward the device.
He ripped it free—
and slammed the cure into place.
"Please work…"
He glanced down—
—and his stomach dropped.
The Lizard had broken free.
And was raising a claw straight at George.
"No—!"
Peter fired a web at the back of its head and yanked hard.
The Lizard lurched backward—
—but its tail whipped around—
striking George.
Hard.
He went over the edge.
"CAPTAIN—!"
Peter moved—
—but the Lizard grabbed his leg again, dragging him back.
"Not now!"
Then—
A blur.
A streak of red and blue.
Superman caught George mid-fall.
Gently.
Like it was nothing.
He set him down on the rooftop—
then turned—
and in an instant, had the Lizard lifted off the ground by the throat.
Peter forced himself up, breathing hard.
"Just—hold him—!" he shouted. "A few seconds!"
Superman nodded, tightening his grip.
The device activated.
A pulse built—
Then—
A blue ring of energy exploded outward into the night sky.
It spread across the city—
washing over everything.
The Lizard thrashed—
then slowed.
Its form began to shift.
Shrink.
Change.
Until—
Curt Connors stood there once more.
Human again.
Unconscious.
The rooftop fell silent.
The city… saved.
Peter stood there, chest rising and falling, staring at the result.
Peter didn't stay.
He looked between the two men—George Stacy catching his breath, and Superman still holding the now-unconscious Curt Connors—
"…I gotta go," Peter said quickly.
Before either of them could respond—
he stepped back—
and jumped.
A webline shot out, catching the side of a nearby building, and in seconds he was gone, swinging into the night.
—
Behind him, things shifted into order.
George moved immediately, slipping into full command mode despite everything.
"Get cuffs on him," he ordered, securing Connors as more officers rushed onto the rooftop.
Superman helped without a word, lifting both George and Connors effortlessly and lowering them safely to the street below where paramedics and police swarmed in.
Flashing lights filled the scene.
Cameras weren't far behind.
—
"Captain Stacy!" a reporter called out. "What happened up there?"
George didn't answer, focused on his men.
But another voice cut in—
"Superman! Superman!"
Microphones turned.
Cameras zoomed.
"What are you doing in New York?" one reporter asked. "And can you confirm reports that Spider-Man was involved in the incident with the Lizard?"
Another jumped in, more pointed—
"Some are saying Spider-Man may have escalated the situation—do you believe he helped cause this?"
The angle was clear.
Twist the story.
Shift the blame.
Superman stood calmly, looking out over the crowd for a moment before answering.
"No," he said, steady and direct. "Spider-Man stopped it."
The reporters paused.
"He risked his life to save people tonight," Superman continued. "Multiple times."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"He got hit. He kept going. And in the end—he's the reason that device didn't harm this city."
Peter didn't go home.
Not yet.
He landed a few blocks away, ducked into an alley, and yanked off the mask. Shirt pulled on, hood up—just another face in the crowd.
Then he ran.
Back toward Oscorp.
Back toward her.
—
The scene was chaos—sirens, flashing lights, officers moving everywhere, reporters shouting over each other.
Peter pushed through the crowd, scanning frantically.
"Gwen—"
There.
By the back of a patrol car.
He didn't even think.
"GWEN!"
She turned—
—and the second she saw him, she ran.
They met halfway, crashing into each other.
Peter caught her, pulling her close, his forehead resting against hers.
"Are you okay?" he asked, breathless.
"I'm okay," she said quickly. "I'm okay."
He let out a shaky breath.
"…You scared me."
"I'm fine," she repeated, softer now.
Behind them, Curt Connors—now fully human again—was being escorted away, while George Stacy approached, looking tired but very much alive.
Gwen noticed him first.
"Dad—!"
He gave her a quick once-over, making sure she was alright.
Then his eyes shifted to Peter.
There was a pause.
A long one.
Finally, George sighed.
"…If I say I accept him as your boyfriend," he said, "will you stop doing that in front of me?"
Gwen didn't even hesitate.
She grabbed Peter—
and kissed him.
Deep.
Right there.
Peter froze for half a second—then melted into it.
When she pulled back, she smiled sweetly at her dad.
"…No."
George closed his eyes briefly, like he was reconsidering every life choice that led him here.
"…Fantastic."
He looked back at Peter.
"Parker."
Peter straightened immediately. "Sir."
"I've got to stay and clean this mess up," George said. "You're going to take her home."
Peter nodded without hesitation. "Yes, sir. Of course."
George held his gaze for a second—
then gave a short nod.
"Good."
Peter and Gwen turned, starting to walk away together—
"HEY!"
They both flinched.
George had grabbed a bullhorn from a nearby officer.
He pointed it directly at them.
"STRAIGHT HOME!" he barked through it.
The entire street seemed to pause.
"AND NO FUNNY BUSINESS!!!"
Peter stood there, stunned.
Gwen tried—and failed—not to laugh.
"…Yes, sir!" Peter called back.
George lowered the bullhorn, satisfied.
And as the two of them hurried off down the street—
Peter leaned slightly toward Gwen.
"…So… what counts as 'funny business'?"
Gwen grinned.
"Guess we'll find out."
once now one was around peter grabbed gwen and swung off towards her apartment building
once there gwen lead him up and in side her mother was on the couch watching the news and when they walked in she rushed over and hugged gwen explaining that she was so worried
peter just stood there he looked at his phone and saw it was like 1 in the moring and said that he should get going and that he need to call his aunt and that she probably worried
helen said do be obsuered you can
By the time they reached Gwen's building, the city had quieted just a little—but the adrenaline hadn't.
Gwen didn't even hesitate. She grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him inside, up the stairs, straight to her apartment.
The door opened—
—and her mother was already there, sitting on the couch with the news still playing in the background.
The moment she saw Gwen—
she was up and across the room in seconds.
"Gwen!"
She pulled her into a tight hug, holding her like she wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.
"I was so worried," Helen said, her voice tight. "They said Oscorp—there was an attack—I didn't know if you were—"
"I'm okay, Mom," Gwen said quickly, hugging her back. "I'm okay."
Peter stood off to the side, giving them space.
He finally glanced down at his phone.
1:07 AM.
"…Yeah," he muttered quietly.
He stepped back a little. "Uh—I should probably get going. I need to call my aunt. She's definitely worried."
Helen looked over at him, still holding Gwen.
"It's past one in the morning," she said. "You're not going back out there."
Peter blinked. "I—uh—"
"You can sleep on the couch," she added firmly.
Peter hesitated.
"…I don't know if—"
"Peter," Gwen said, giving him a look.
He sighed.
"…Okay."
He pulled out his phone and stepped a little aside, dialing.
It rang once.
Twice—
"Peter?" Aunt May answered immediately.
"Hey, Aunt May," he said quickly. "I'm okay. I'm at Gwen's. There was—stuff happening downtown, and it got late, and—"
May let out a breath on the other end. "I saw the news."
"…Yeah."
"I'm glad you're safe."
Peter nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I was gonna head home, but Gwen's mom said I could stay on the couch—if that's okay."
There was a small pause.
"…Let me talk to her," May said.
Peter blinked. "Oh—uh—okay."
He turned back toward Gwen and her mom.
"Um—my aunt wants to talk to you."
Helen stepped forward, taking the phone. "Hello?"
Peter stood there awkwardly, glancing at Gwen.
She smiled at him.
Across the room, Helen spoke calmly into the phone, reassuring, polite—
Meanwhile, Peter rubbed the back of his neck.
"…This is weirdly more stressful than fighting a giant lizard," he muttered.
Gwen laughed quietly.
"Yeah," she said. "Welcome to my world."
A moment later, Helen handed the phone back.
"Your aunt says you're staying," she said with a small smile. "No arguments."
Peter nodded. "…Yes, ma'am."
He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket.
The apartment felt… calmer now.
Peter caught bits of it from the couch—her voice low, controlled, filling George Stacy in on what had happened, and more importantly, where Gwen was.
Meanwhile, Peter and Gwen had settled onto the couch.
Close.
Quiet.
The chaos from earlier finally catching up to them.
For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Gwen rested against him, his arm loosely around her shoulders, the TV murmuring in the background.
Peter exhaled slowly.
"…Today was insane."
Gwen let out a small laugh. "That's one way to put it."
There was a pause.
Then Peter glanced down at her.
"…I met Superman today."
Gwen shifted slightly, looking up at him. "…Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Peter said, still sounding like he didn't fully believe it himself. "At the fire."
Her eyes widened. "You're serious?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I almost didn't make it out of that building."
Her expression changed instantly. "Peter—"
"But he showed up," Peter continued, softer now. "He put the fire out. Helped me hold the building together."
He let out a quiet breath.
"…He saved me."
Gwen studied him for a moment, the weight of that settling in.
"…That's… wow."
Peter gave a small, tired smile. "Yeah."
She leaned into him a little more after that, like she needed to make sure he was actually there.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said quietly.
"Me too," he admitted.
They sat like that for a few more moments—
until—
Helen walked back in.
She stopped.
Took in the scene.
"…Alright," she said, arms crossing lightly. "Young lady—off to bed."
Gwen groaned immediately. "Mom—"
"Nope."
"But—"
"Gwen."
That was the end of that.
Gwen sighed dramatically, but pushed herself up anyway, giving Peter a quick look before heading toward the hallway.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
"Night," Peter replied.
She disappeared into her room.
Helen watched her go—then turned back to Peter.
A moment later, she returned with a blanket, handing it to him.
"Here," she said.
"Thank you," Peter replied.
She gave him a look.
"I have excellent hearing," she added calmly. "So I'll know if you get off that couch."
Peter froze slightly. "…Noted."
"The bathroom's the first door in the hallway," she continued. "Which means I'll also know if you walk past my room."
"…Also noted."
Helen nodded once, satisfied.
"Goodnight, Peter."
"Goodnight, ma'am."
She turned off the main light and headed down the hall.
The apartment went quiet
Gwen lay on her bed, staring at her phone, the glow lighting up her face in the dark.
Are you still awake? she typed.
A second later:
Also… today was crazy.
Another pause.
Also also… I miss you already.
Out in the living room, Peter's phone buzzed softly.
He smiled tiredly, thumbs moving slowly.
I'm literally ten feet away.
A pause.
Then—
Still counts.
Gwen grinned, biting her lip.
She quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to her door.
Slowly…
Carefully…
She opened it.
One step into the hallway—
"Get back in your room, Gwendolyn."
Gwen froze.
"…You weren't even looking."
"I don't need to be."
Gwen sighed dramatically, turning around and closing the door.
"…Worth a try," she muttered.
—
The next morning came quietly.
Peter was already awake before the sun fully rose.
He folded the blanket neatly, grabbed his things, and slipped out without making a sound.
Outside, he pulled out his phone.
Leaving. I'll text you later.
He hit send.
—
Instead of heading down—
he went up.
All the way to the roof.
Once alone, he pulled his suit on, mask sliding into place.
"…Alright," he said, stretching slightly. "New day."
He stepped to the edge—
and jumped.
—
Peter landed lightly on a newsstand, crouching as he scanned the front pages.
One headline caught his eye immediately.
DAILY BUGLE SEEKS PHOTOS OF SPIDER-MAN
He tilted his head.
"…Huh."
A beat.
"…I mean, I do know a guy."
—
A few minutes later, he was back at his house.
He slipped through his bedroom window quietly, landing without a sound.
Everything looked the same.
Familiar.
He moved quickly, heading straight for the drawer—
and pulled out Uncle Ben's old camera.
Peter held it for a second.
"…Hey, Uncle Ben," he murmured.
Then—
He turned—
and slipped back out the window.
Across the street—
a curtain shifted slightly.
Mary Jane Watson stood by her window, watching.
She'd seen him.
Not all of it.
But enough.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped back.
"…Peter?" she whispered.
—
Back in the city, Spider-Man swung freely again, one hand gripping the camera, the other firing webs.
He flipped over a rooftop, landing briefly before launching forward again.
From his phone, a news broadcast played through his earpiece.
"Good morning, New Yorkers—looking at another beautiful day here in the city—"
Peter smirked. "You jinxed it."
"—there's been a steady increase in sightings of Spider-Man, which has sparked a debate among New Yorkers. Nearly fifty percent still consider him a menace—"
"Hey!"
"—but that number is dropping, especially after Superman confirmed that Spider-Man played a key role in saving the city last night."
Peter blinked mid-swing.
"…Wait, he said that?"
He landed on a building, pausing for a second.
A small smile crept in.
"…Huh."
Right on cue—
CRASH.
Peter's head snapped toward the sound.
A man was halfway through a car window, glass scattered across the street.
"…And there it is," Peter muttered.
But instead of dropping in right away—
thwip.
He shot a webline, sticking the guy in place mid-break-in.
Then, quickly, Peter set his camera on a nearby ledge, angling it just right.
"Okay… action shot… dramatic lighting… crime in progress…"
He tapped the timer.
"Ten seconds. Don't mess this up."
He vaulted off the roof—
landing smoothly behind the guy.
"Hey," he quipped. "You know most people just unlock their cars, right?"
The man struggled, yanking against the webbing. "What the—?!"
Peter casually webbed his arm to the car.
The guy swung wildly with his free hand—
Peter flipped clean over him.
"Wow, rude. I was trying to have a conversation."
Thwip.
Other arm—secured.
"Stay."
Peter crouched, pulling out his phone. "Yeah, hi—attempted car theft, corner of—yeah, you'll see him."
He hung up, glancing at his camera.
Click.
Perfect timing.
"Nice."
—
By the time the cops arrived, Peter was perched upside down on a nearby streetlight.
"Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!" he called, giving a small wave before swinging off again.
—
One turned into two.
Two turned into five.
Petty theft.
A mugging.
Another break-in.
Each time—same thing.
Stop the crime.
Snap the photo.
Leave a note.
Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
He pulled out the camera, scrolling through the shots.
"…Okay, yeah—definitely amateur," he muttered. "But… hey, you can actually see me."
Spider-Man—clear enough in frame, mid-action.
Peter grinned.
"…This might actually work."
—
A quick stop later, he swung by Gwen's apartment, grabbing his bag, swapping out of the suit, and heading straight for the Daily Bugle.
—
The moment he stepped inside—
chaos.
Phones ringing.
People shouting.
Papers everywhere.
And one voice louder than all of it.
"—I don't care what the Daily Planet has, I want better! Clearer! Bigger! That spider menace is our story!"
Peter blinked.
"…Wow."
He made his way toward the desk, clutching his bag a little tighter.
At the center of it all stood J. Jonah Jameson, mid-rant, waving a newspaper like it had personally offended him.
Peter approached cautiously.
"Uh—hi—Mr. Jameson?"
Jameson barely looked at him. "What?"
"I—uh—I have photos. Of Spider-Man."
That got his attention.
Jameson snatched the camera out of Peter's hands with surprising speed.
"Let's see what we've got—"
He flipped through the shots.
Paused.
Leaned in.
"…Huh."
Another photo.
"…Huh."
Peter stood there, trying not to look nervous.
Jameson squinted at one in particular.
"These are—" he started, then caught himself. "—not completely terrible."
Peter blinked. "…Thanks?"
Jameson shoved the camera back into his hands.
"I'll take them."
Peter perked up slightly. "Really?"
"Don't get excited," Jameson snapped. "They're decent, kid. Better than the garbage I've been getting. Still doesn't mean I like that wall-crawling menace."
"Right. Of course."
Jameson waved him off. "Go collect your payment from my secretary."
Peter paused. "…Wait, really?"
"Yes, really!" Jameson barked. "Betty Brant—she's at the front. Tell her I approved it."
Peter nodded quickly. "Yes, sir!"
He turned, almost tripping over himself as he hurried toward the front desk.
Behind him—
Jameson was already yelling again.
"I want more photos! Action shots! Danger! Drama! If he so much as trips over a cat, I want it on the front page!"
—
At the desk, Peter approached, still a little stunned.
"Uh—hi," he said. "Mr. Jameson said to—um—collect a payment?"
Betty looked up, offering a small, polite smile.
"Name?"
"Peter Parker."
She checked something on her desk, then nodded.
"Alright, Peter."
As she reached for the payment—
Peter couldn't help the small smile forming on his face.
"…Okay," he whispered to himself.
Peter sat near the back of the bus, the city rolling past the window as he turned the envelope of cash over in his hands.
"…Not bad for a few pictures," he muttered.
By the time he reached home, the sun was already higher in the sky.
He walked up the pathway just as Aunt May was locking the door.
"Hey!" Peter called.
She turned—surprised—and smiled immediately as he walked up and pulled her into a hug.
"Peter," she said warmly. "You're back early."
"Yeah," he said, pulling away before holding out the envelope. "I, uh… got paid for some photos. Thought this could help with bills and stuff."
May looked down at the money… then back up at him.
And gently pushed it back.
"You don't need to get a job to take care of me," she said softly.
Peter frowned. "But—"
"No," she said, firmer this time, but still kind. "You take that money… and you do something for you."
He hesitated.
"Take your girlfriend out," she added with a small smile. "Go see a movie. Be a kid while you still can."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "…Yeah. Okay."
May nodded, satisfied.
"Come on," she said. "Walk me to work."
—
They walked together through the neighborhood, talking about small things—normal things. School, summer, little updates that made everything feel grounded again.
For a little while—
Peter wasn't Spider-Man.
He was just Peter.
When they reached her workplace—FEAST—he gave her another quick hug.
"Be safe," she said.
"You too."
He waited until she went inside before stepping back, pulling his mask on, and heading back up into the city.
—
A quiet patrol followed.
Nothing major.
Just keeping watch.
—
Elsewhere…
In a dim, dingy bar tucked away from the main streets, the mood was very different.
Low lights.
Muted voices.
Danger sitting just under the surface.
At a corner table sat Tombstone, calm, composed, his pale features almost blending into the shadows.
Across from him stood Flint Marko.
"…You said you had a job," Flint muttered, arms crossed.
Tombstone leaned back slightly.
"I said I had an opportunity."
Flint scoffed. "Sounds like the same thing."
"Not quite."
Tombstone's eyes sharpened slightly.
"New York's changing," he said. "You've seen it. Costumed freaks swinging around, saving people, getting in the way."
Flint didn't deny it.
"That means we need more firepower," Tombstone continued. "Something that levels the field."
Flint tilted his head slightly. "And you think that's me?"
Tombstone gave a faint, humorless smile. "You're a start."
Flint's form shifted slightly—grains of sand subtly moving under his skin.
"…And what's in it for me?"
Tombstone didn't answer right away.
Instead, he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
"I'm not the only one interested in what's coming," he said.
Flint frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Tombstone's expression didn't change—but there was something behind it now.
Something heavier.
"There's someone behind the scenes," he said quietly. "Someone who's been watching all of this unfold."
A pause.
"Someone with resources. Vision."
Flint narrowed his eyes. "And you're working for him?"
Tombstone's lips twitched slightly.
"Let's just say…" he said, "…I'm not at the top of the food chain."
That landed.
Flint leaned back slightly, considering.
"…So what's the job?"