Time: 5 pm

In the dimly lit confines of the villain's base, Chameleon continued his psychological manipulation of Maxwell Dillon, the man who had unwittingly absorbed the power of the ElectroGenesis project.

Maxwell felt like his brain was doing somersaults as he heard Samantha Hilton's words. It was like a bomb going off in his head, shaking up everything he thought he knew. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Samantha was saying he was responsible for everything that had gone wrong.

"I can't believe this," Maxwell muttered, feeling like his world was falling apart. "Sir Chris wouldn't do this to me."

Chameleon regarded him with a calculating gaze, unmoved by Maxwell's protests. He knew that breaking through Maxwell's denial was crucial to their plans.

"Is that so?" Chameleon's tone was laced with skepticism as he play again the recording, letting Samantha's words fill the room again. It was like a punch to the gut for Maxwell, the reality of her accusations hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Maxwell's heart raced, and his head felt like it was spinning. "Nonononon, this can't be happening." he whispered, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of confusion and fear.

Chameleon's face stayed serious as he faced Maxwell with the hard truth. "Are you still pretending it's not real? When the evidence is here?" he asked, making sure Maxwell understood how serious the situation was.

Then Sparks flew and the air buzzed with electricity as Maxwell's emotions surged. His powers erupted in a burst of energy, crackling against the walls of his high-tech cell. Desperation etched onto his face, he shouted, "No! It can't be true! Sir Chris wouldn't betray me like this!"

Chameleon remained unmoved, his expression cold and calculating. "If Chris Hilton didn't turn on you, then why did her daughter accuse you?" he pressed, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

Maxwell's mind raced, searching for an explanation to counter Chameleon's accusations. "It must be a misunderstanding," he pleaded, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Chameleon scoffed mockingly, his doubt evident. "Misunderstandings? Don't make me laugh," he sneered, his voice oozing contempt. "They're pinning it on you to save their own skins and keep the company safe."

Maxwell felt like his whole world was spinning, weighed down by Chameleon's words. Betrayed by someone he trusted completely and wrongly blamed for a crime he didn't do, it was like he was stuck in a never-ending nightmare, unable to wake up.

The sense of betrayal cut deep, gnawing at his soul as he struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality confronting him. In that moment, he felt utterly alone, abandoned by those he had once considered as family.

Maxwell didn't realize that the path ahead would change him in ways he never expected, pulling him into the darkest parts of himself.

............

[Meanwhile]

The hospital room was a peaceful refuge, the clean smell of disinfectant blending with the lingering uncertainty in the air. Chris welcomed us with a slight smile, and I couldn't shake the guilt weighing on me for what he was enduring. His being there served as a reminder of the chaos in our lives, an ongoing storm that showed no signs of calming down.

I walked up to Chris, feeling tongue-tied and unsure of what to say. Mary gently took my hand, silently telling me that I didn't have to go through this alone.

Chris's voice broke through the suffocating silence, his tone tinged with resignation. "You don't have to say it, Michael. I know what you mean," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the floor as if unable to meet our eyes. "I'm pathetic, right?"

Mark, shook his head vehemently. "No, Chris, you're not to blame," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "You didn't cause the chaos in your company."

Emily, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow, reached out to comfort Mark, her touch a silent gesture of solidarity. "Babe." she whispered softly, her voice filled with tenderness.

Chris nodded, his face showing both appreciation and deep sadness. "Thanks, guys," he whispered softly. "It's... It's like a bad dream. And I feel like I'm stuck in a never-ending cycle of nightmares."

Approaching Chris, I could see the weight of his struggles mirrored in his weary eyes. "Chris," I began softly, my voice carrying the weight of understanding, "I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in despair, to feel trapped in a nightmare you can't wake up from."

Then Chris looked at me, I sensed a hint of hope amid his sadness. Though he seemed worn down by everything, there was a spark of determination in his eyes, a silent agreement with what I said. "Chris," I continued, Looking straight into Chris's eyes, I spoke from the heart, "Chris, remember, we're in this together. No matter how tough things get, we've got each other. We'll face whatever comes our way, step by step, until we're out of this mess. You're not alone, and together, we'll find our way through this darkness."

"I know, Michael," he began, his words heavy with sorrow, "but what I can't bear the most is the thought of my daughter..." His voice trailed off, choked by a wave of anguish that threatened to engulf him. "She... she blamed someone," he continued, his gaze locking with mine, "For the sake of the company. And it's because of me."

Chris's words hung heavy in the air, thick with emotion. I stood there, stunned, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just said. "No..." I managed to murmur, my voice barely audible amid the sad atmosphere. But Chris interrupted me before I could continue, his expression filled with anguish, silencing any further response.

"You don't understand," he interjected, his tone tinged with bitterness. "It's because of my failures. Because of me..." His voice trailed off, lost in the sea of his own self-condemnation.

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"Chris," I began, my voice shaking with emotion, but he stopped me with a gesture.

"Do you think I can escape this nightmare?" he asked, his voice resigned, tears streaming down his face.

Tears ran down Chris's cheeks, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy, as if we were connected by our shared sorrow. Looking at Mark, Emily, and Mary Rose, I saw that they, too, understood Chris's pain without a single word being spoken. It was a moment of profound solidarity, as we all grappled with the weight of despair that hung heavy in the air.

Then The atmosphere in the hospital room shifted abruptly as a voice shattered the heavy silence with a sharp declaration. "Bullshit!!"

Startled, we turned as one towards the source of the outburst, finding Loe Halloway, our friend, standing there with a look of fierce determination etched across his face. His sudden appearance injected a new intensity into the already charged atmosphere.

Loe walked up to Chris with a clear purpose. He didn't hesitate, just threw a punch that caught Chris off guard. Chris stumbled back, looking surprised. Loe grabbed him firmly, his eyes burning with determination that commanded everyone's attention.

Mark and I rushed forward, instinctively moving to intervene, but Loe's commanding presence stopped us in our tracks. "Don't interfere, Michael, Mark." he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. There was something in his tone that spoke of an inner turmoil, a battle raging beneath the surface.

"Fuck off, Loe, I don't have time for this." Chris spat, his voice tinged with defiance, yet beneath the bravado, there was a hint of vulnerability.

But Loe remained unfazed, his gaze unwavering as he met Chris's eyes. "You're the one to fuck off, Chris," he retorted, his voice calm yet resolute."Don't be a baby succumbing to despair just because of what happened."

Chris's response was immediate, a raw outpouring of emotion that echoed through the room. "You don't understand!!" he cried out, his voice thick with anguish and frustration.

Chris's eyes blazed with anger, but Loe didn't back down. His words were forceful, carrying the weight of years of shared history. "But I do understand," Loe persisted, his tone softening with empathy."Remember back in 1960, when Sir Edward Wilson, Michael's father, was building S.H.I.E.L.D.? It was just you and me, Chris. We were the only ones left. Remember those days!"

............

3rd Pov

In the past, Chris and Loe teamed up to defend New York from villains. With Michael's father, Edward Wilson, as their leader, they faced the city's troubles head-on. Chris, taking on the Nightwing persona using Mark Identity, worked to keep peace in a city overrun by fear. Because Without Michael as Spider-Man, the villains grew bolder, causing havoc for the people.

Thats why In those dark times, Chris and Loe had stood as beacons of hope, battling against overwhelming odds. Chris pretended to be Nightwing to protect Mark's identity, while Loe faced villains head-on.

Those memories were tough, filled with hard choices and heavy burdens. Chris held onto them because they reminded him of the struggles he endured and the burdens he overcame. To Chris They were not just memories but markers of his journey, guiding him forward even in the bleakest moments.

Then Loe pushed him away, causing Chris to staggered, and his mind swirling with emotions. "You're not the same Chris I knew back then." Loe declared, his voice tinged with disappointment. It was like he was saying Chris had changed a lot since then.

...........

[Michael Wilson]

"What the hell happened in 1960?" I couldn't help but ask, the flood of questions overwhelming me. Learning about their hidden struggles left me feeling like I'd been blindsided, as if the world I thought I knew had suddenly been turned upside down.

Then Emily's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, her words carried a weight of history and sacrifice that left me momentarily speechless. "Michael," she began, her tone somber yet resolute, "after you and Mark disappeared, everything went crazy. With Nightwing and Spider-Man presumed dead, villains ran rampant, wreaking havoc without fear of repercussion."

Emily's gaze moved to Chris and Loe, their expressions reflecting a past filled with trials. "Chris had to become Nightwing," she explained, her voice understanding. "He had to pretend to be Mark's superhero persona to keep hope alive in the city. But stepping into Nightwing's shoes was tough for him." She paused, acknowledging Chris's struggle. "He had to train hard, learning how to be a vigilante while Loe fought the villains alone, defending the city single-handedly."

Emily turned to me, her eyes conveying the weight of history. "Your father's vision for S.H.I.E.L.D... Your Idea was revolutionary, Michael," she began, her tone solemn. "But back then, many doubted him. They couldn't see what he saw, and skepticism surrounded his every move." Her gaze drifted to Chris and Loe, then returned to me. "Those were difficult days for them—your father, Chris, and Loe—all striving to make the city safer amidst the doubt and uncertainty."

As I learned everything I feel shocked I feel really shocked. Then I turned to Mark, my voice edged with disbelief. "You knew about all this?"

Mark hesitated, "I..."

I sighed, feeling a mix of anger and regret. "So you knew, and yet you never told me." My voice softened as I continued, "I was stupid to think there were no struggles back then. When Father told me about creating S.H.I.E.L.D., he made it sound like it was easy." I glanced at Chris and Loe, my heart heavy with newfound understanding. "I thought Chris becoming Nightwing wasn't that hard, but now I know everything... I feel like shit about myself."

Chris and Loe, seeing the sadness in my eyes, stepped forward. Chris spoke first, "Michael, we were just trying to protect you from the burden."

"I know, Chris," I said, my voice cracking. "So I wouldn't be filled with so much regret."

Mary, sensing my distress, grabbed my hand. "Babe, please..."

But I couldn't handle the overwhelming guilt. "I just need to cool off." I muttered, before running out, ignoring everyone's shouts.

Finding a secluded spot, I transformed into Spider-Man, my black suit with blue eyes and a dark blue spider emblazoned on my chest. "Hoodie on," I commanded, feeling the fabric cover my head.

I swung through the city, letting the wind and the rush of movement clear my mind. I headed to the top of the Chrysler Building, my favorite spot where I could find peace and vent my anger.

Perched atop the iconic structure, I looked out over the city, feeling the weight of my emotions. I whispered to myself, "I feel shitty... I feel fucking shitty about myself."

I stayed there for hours, the city's lights flickering below, a silent witness to my turmoil. I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and stupidity, replaying the past in my mind. "You're a fucking idiot, Michael Wilson," I muttered to myself. "A fucking stupid idiot."

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through my thoughts. "Hey, Mike."

I turned and saw Peter standing behind me. "Hey, Pete." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Peter approached cautiously. "Mary said you suddenly disappeared. She asked me to find you. And I figured you'd be here." He studied my face, concern etched in his features. "What's wrong, Mike?"

I sighed, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. "It's just... everything, Pete. Finding out what really happened, and ... what Chris and Loe went through... It's like I've been blind to all of it."

Peter took a seat next to me, giving me a moment to gather my thoughts. "Mike, I don't know exactly what they said, but the Michael Wilson I know won't back down from this."

I shook my head, the guilt still gnawing at me. "Yeah But I should have known. I should have been there. Instead, I was stuck in that stupid ice, and everyone else had to pick up the pieces. They suffered because of me."

Peter listened intently as I poured out my frustrations. As he heard my words, a look of realization crossed his face. "Oh, I can see now," he said, piecing it all together. Then Peter put a hand on my shoulder. "You can't blame yourself for what happened when you were out of commission. And even now, you can't change the past. What you can do is learn from it and move forward. Chris, Loe, your father... they all made sacrifices. But they didn't do it to make you feel guilty. They did it because they believed in something greater, just like you do."

I took a deep breath, letting Peter's words sink in. He was right. "I know but It's just hard to face it all at once."

Peter looked at my face, his expression filled with empathy. "You know..... When you told me about what happened, about your story, I was inspired and mesmerized, Mike," he said softly. He then gazed out into the distance, lost in thought. "To think my mentor has this story."

He turned back to me, his eyes earnest. "When I realized that even after everything you've been through, you still never gave up, you still wouldn't back down, you still kept moving forward... that's when I knew you are the best mentor I could ever have. The best hero that no one else could be."

His words hit me deeply, cutting through the layers of guilt and self-doubt. Peter's belief in me, his respect and admiration, were evident. It was a reminder of the strength and resilience I had always strived to embody, not just for myself, but for those who looked up to me.

"Thanks, Pete," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "That means a lot."

He smiled, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "Now Let's head back. There's a lot more we can do, and we need you with us."

I nodded and readying myself

Then Peter raised his fist to bump with me, a familiar grin on his face. "Showtime," he said, echoing my iconic line.

I chuckled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie and strength returning. "Showtime." I replied, raising my fist to meet his.

With that, we launched ourselves off the Chrysler Building, swinging through the city together. The night was alive with possibilities, and as we moved in unison, I felt a renewed determination. No matter the past, we were ready to face the future, side by side.

The end of Side Story The Missing Sorrow