The streets are a symphony of chaos—screams, the crackling of flames licking at the twisted frames of police cars, and the acrid scent of burning rubber and metal. My whole body aches, bruised from being hurled into a wrecked vehicle. I push myself up, vision blurry, and stumble forward. My heart sinks at the sight.

Bodies. Scattered like broken toys. Some in uniforms—officers who thought they'd be heading home tonight. Others just regular people, terrified, caught in something they couldn't understand.

I glance up at the building, its skeletal remains still smoldering against the night sky. And him—the madman—is gone. No trace of that eerie, soul-chilling laugh, no trace of the twisted grin that's now burned into my mind.

Why? Why did it have to go this way?

Why couldn't I save them?

I force myself forward, running through the debris, pulling the injured to safety, handing them off to firefighters and medics as they scramble to make sense of the carnage. It's automatic, this saving—something I've done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels different. Empty.

Then I see him.

Officer Johnson. The one who'd smiled at me just a little bit ago, full of life, full of trust. He lies still now, his eyes open, blood trickling from his mouth. I drop to my knees beside him, gently closing his eyelids. A wave of guilt washes over me. If only I'd been faster. If only I'd—

"Spider-Man?"

The voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn. It's Captain Stacy, his expression heavy, weary. He lowers his gun and holsters it, his eyes scanning the destruction.

"What is this?" he asks, voice low. "What happened here?"

I clench my fists, staring at the blood smeared across my gloves. "I failed."

Captain Stacy stands next to me, the weight of his own regret etched across his face. "We all did."

"I saw him," I say through gritted teeth, the memory of that grinning, green-skinned monster searing into my mind. "The one who did this. He killed everyone...and called it a game."

Captain Stacy's eyes narrow. "Another powered perp?"

I hesitate, unsure. "Maybe. I don't know what he was, but... it didn't feel like this was for revenge. And I don't feel like this was for some cause. I feel like...he did it because he could."

I look down at the blood on my hands, feeling the tremor starting in my fingers. This wasn't like my other battles. This wasn't just some punch-up with a thug or a supervillain with a grand plan. This was chaos, senseless and brutal.

Captain Stacy places a firm hand on my shoulder. "Don't carry this burden alone. You're a kid, Peter. Still in high school. This? This is the responsibility of adults, not yours. We failed today—not you."

I shake my head, not wanting to accept it. "A kid who can lift a bus over his head, remember?"

Stacy exhales deeply, his face softening. "Strength isn't everything, kid. Get home. Your aunt, Gwen—they're probably worried sick. Let us handle this mess."

I want to argue, to push back, to scream that it is my responsibility, that with power comes—

But I don't.

I can barely keep it together. I glance around one last time at the destruction, at the lives lost, and nod.

"Yeah, okay." My voice is barely a whisper.

I shoot a webline to the nearest building, and as I swing away, the weight of failure clings to me, heavier than ever

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swing up to my room, opening it slightly, before making my way inside quietly. I could see in the driveway that May was home...not good. I slowly close the door to my room, before turning on the light and undressing and changing into cleaner clothes, using a towel to wipe my face of smoke and grime the best I can, before spraying myself with cologne, and whatever I could to get rid of this smoke smell.

I hear a faint voice call out from downstairs. "Peter?" I could tell it was Gwen.

How am I gonna explain how I got into the house without them knowing? I reach into the drawer, grabbing my phone which I stashed before I went out to the fire, quickly turning off the lights as I heard approaching footsteps, quietly making my way back out the window closing it, before jumping down to the grass below.

I ran around to the front, knocking on the door, like I had only just arrived.

The door creaked open, then swung open as May grabbed me pulling me into the house. "Have you lost your mind?! Do you know how long it's been?"

I check the time on my phone, it's only been about an hour and a half. "Uh...not long?" I say, and she looks angrier.

"You can't do that. You can't." May says shaking her head as she makes her way to the kitchen. "I tried calling and texting."

Then Gwen makes her way down the stairs. "Peter? What? I could've sworn I heard someone upstairs?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Just got here."

Gwen looks at me, then crinkles her nose. "Why do you smell like so much cologne?"

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Before I can respond May drops a glass in the kitchen, it breaks on impact as she cruses under her breath.

I rush over to her. "Hey, I got this don't—"

"I got it! I got it!" She says, trying to scramble the pieces together, her face is frantic. "It's...I'm sorry, but I can do it." May, picks up all the pieces opening the door that lead to the garage and out of sight heading towards the trash cans probably.

"Peter, where did you go? Felicia said that you went to the store to get more cleaning supplies but you never answered my calls. We got worried. I mean did you hear about what happened on 13th street? There was some kind of explosion." Gwen says, moving over to us.

Yeah. I know, Gwen.

"Really? I didn't hear anything."

"You don't look like you brought anything back." Gwen frowns, and my heart stops. "Peter, where did you really go? I mean, it doesn't make any sense. You just...leave? Again? Please," she says grabbing my hands in hers. "Please, you can talk to me about anything. Anything Peter."

I stare into her eyes and I want nothing more than to tell her everything, my powers, about why I always disappeared.

I'm Spider-Man, Gwen.

It's so simple.

But then flashes of everyone I failed to save tonight come to my mind, and I remember why I can never do that. I won't let that happen to anyone close to me. Never.

"I—I got lost on the way to the store, but then I—"

I stop as I see Gwen's eyes fill with tears, before she crosses her arms looking down at the floor instead of me. "Okay. I get it. You don't have to tell me. But..." Gwen looks up at me. "When I thought I...I lost you. It hurt, Peter."

"I know—"

"No, no you don't get it. It felt like something...died inside of me. I don't know how to explain it Peter, but...ever since you came back into my life. It's felt like...I don't know..like that's how it should be." She says, moving closer to me her eyes on mine. "Like you and me, we have something special. Something I don't ever want to lose. You have your secrets, that much is obvious, maybe you can't tell me yet. So I'll wait, I'll wait for you to be ready. But promise me, Peter. That no matter what happens, you and me, we won't lose each other."

I grab her hand, squeezing it gently. "Gwen, no matter what happens. I promise you'll never lose me. I guess...I never got to say it out loud...but Gwen, I've...I've had feelings for you as long as I can remember. I...I like—"

Gwen presses her lips against mine, and my eyes widen, until I let myself slip into her kiss, letting go of all the pain I've felt until now. She pulls back, "me too."

"You...You do?"

Gwen giggles softly. "Peter, come on. Of course I do. Even if you never noticed..." Gwen turns away blushing. "I guess...I've always had an eye on you."

I pull her into a hug. "Yeah, me too."

"Peter?" She says, with her head against my chest.

"Yeah?" I say, resting my head on top of hers.

"You wanna watch back to the future?" She says, and I can't help but smile.

"Is that even a question?" I say, and she looks up at me with a wide grin.

"Not just a great tutor. But a boyfriend too. I'm lucky." She says, giving me a small peck on my lips.

I...I can't believe this is real.

Boyfriend?

It doesn't matter, I just wanna enjoy this.

"You guys done with your little moment?" May says, a smile on her face as she peaks through the garage door.

I look at May with a blush on my face. "Please don't tell me you were spying."

"Oh, please." May says, washing her hands. "Just some of the middle parts and all of the end parts."

I groan, and Gwen hides her face in my chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Gwen snoozes softly on the couch, the flicker of the TV casting shadows across her peaceful face, I can't help but smile. How anyone could fall asleep during Back to the Future is beyond me, but the way she's curled up with a blanket, looking so relaxed, makes it hard to blame her. Still, this gives me a moment to focus on something I've been putting off for a while.

Quietly, I slip upstairs to my room, where my extra supplies are stashed away. Red, blue, and black cloth—all of it ready for whenever I need to patch up my suit. I pull out my sewing kit, setting it on the desk, and settle into the chair. The night of homecoming flashes in my mind, Gwen teasing me about needing "more pizzazz" in my costume. Maybe she had a point.

I start cutting the fabric into the pieces I need, mentally working through new ideas. A sharper look, maybe more refined webbing details? I thread the needle and begin stitching, the soft sound of fabric being pulled taut under the needle the only noise in the room.

As I work, I think about everything that's happened recently. The chaos of the fire, the laughter of that maniac, the lives lost because I wasn't fast enough. My hands slow as I picture Johnson's body, Aunt May and Gwen's faces, the promises I've made. I need to be better—not just for the people I couldn't save tonight but for the ones I can save tomorrow.

"More pizzazz," I murmur, echoing Gwen's playful words. Maybe a little style wouldn't hurt after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weekend comes and goes in a blur. Gwen stays over for a while, and I don't realize just how much I've gotten used to her being around until the house feels oddly empty after she leaves.

Now it's Monday morning, the start of another week at school. Still no sign of Harry. Still no sign of that madman, either. I've been scouring the city every night, responding to every police call, trying to track him down. But it's like he's vanished into thin air.

I decide to head to school earlier than usual today—partly because I need time to clear my head, but also because I have no idea what we're learning in biology anymore. Some early studying can't hurt.

On the way to the library, I spot two figures standing off to the side. Flash Thompson is there, sporting a brand-new Spider-Man T-shirt. Since when do I have merchandise? I wonder if I can sue. Standing beside him is an older man who has to be his dad. I try to slip past without drawing attention, but I can't help overhearing.

"Dad, listen, I—"

"No, you listen." His father's voice cuts through the air like a whip. "You shut up and listen to me, understand? Your grades are garbage. You get them under control, or you'll do something smart for once in your pathetic life." He jabs a finger into Flash's chest with each word.

From the corner of my eye, I see Flash clenching his fists, his jaw tight. "Yessir," he mutters, voice low.

I pick up my pace, moving away from whatever that situation is. As much as Flash has made my life hell for years, seeing him get torn down like that feels...wrong. Part of me thinks maybe if he wasn't so focused on being the king of high school jerks, he might actually get his grades up. But, hey, maybe we're not all that different. Looks like I'm not the only one failing at something.

When I finally reach the library, Gwen's already there waiting for me. I told her I'd be coming early, and she decided to meet me—yet another perk of having an awesome girlfriend.

"Hey, Peter!" She smiles, waving me over to the table. I slide into the seat next to her, unpacking my textbooks for first period.

"So, I have kind of a weird question to ask," she says, leaning in a little closer.

"Shoot," I say, glancing up from my book.

"It's about Flash," she says cautiously.

I furrow my brow, confused. "Flash? What about him? I just saw him with his dad—"

"I think we should help him," she interrupts, her words coming out in a rush.

"Help him?" I blink, not sure I'm hearing her right. "Help him with what?"

"Tutoring. I think we should tutor him," Gwen says, reaching across the table to grab one of my hands.

I stare at her, completely taken aback. "You want me to tutor Flash Thompson? The guy who makes it his life's mission to torture me? The guy who hates my guts? The same guy who seemingly hates everyone's guts—except yours, of course," I add, not even trying to hide the hint of jealousy in my voice.

She sighs, giving me that patient look. "I know he can be a jerk sometimes—"

"Sometimes?" I scoff, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, most of the time," she admits. "But I think there's more to him than that. I don't know... I think he's struggling, Peter. You saw him with his dad, right? He's under a lot of pressure, and maybe... maybe if we help him with his grades, he'll be able to stay on the football team. And who knows, maybe you two could actually get along."

I stare at her, weighing my options. They're not looking good.

A. No, thank you.

B. Are you trying to play peacemaker, or are you trying to get me killed?

C. I'd rather chew off my own hand.

I chuckle nervously, trying to mask my reluctance. "Can I think about it?"

She smiles sweetly, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. "You're the best."

A flash of Officer Johnson comes to my mind.

I'm definitely not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Norman Osborn woke with a violent start, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. Cold sweat clung to his skin, soaking through the expensive silk sheets beneath him. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out the eerie silence of the dimly lit room. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was.

His office. No, not quite. One of the private facilities, isolated from the rest of Oscorp's empire. He had made sure of that—this place was off the books, unknown to anyone but him. And yet...something felt wrong.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Norman sat up, the chill of the metal floor biting at his feet. A metallic tang hit his nose, sharp and undeniable. His eyes scanned the room in the faint light, and that's when he saw it.

Blood.

A pool of it, smeared across the floor, leading up to the wall. And there, scrawled in dark, dripping letters, was a message:

WELCOME HOME

Norman's breath caught in his throat as his eyes traced the letters. His heart raced faster, but it wasn't fear. It was rage. He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white. His mind raced for answers, but none came.

Then he saw it—a vial. Small and glass, empty now. He recognized it immediately, the remnants of a serum he had taken days ago. The memory of it was vivid, but beyond that? Nothing. A gaping hole in his recollection. He had injected himself with it, eager to perfect the formula that would—

Norman clenched his fists, trying to remember what had happened after. Days had passed. Where had he been? What had he done? He couldn't recall, but the blood on the floor and the sinister message suggested nothing good.

As his mind churned, struggling to piece together the blank spaces, a voice echoed faintly from the dark corners of his mind.

"The game isn't over yet."

It was low, menacing, like a shadow creeping over his consciousness. The voice wasn't his own. It was something else, something deep within him that he had long feared but could no longer suppress.

Norman's lips twitched, his face contorting into a strained grin as the voice reverberated in his skull, chilling and familiar.

"Soon."