Wednesday October 23

"Him? Seriously?" Flash points to me, a smirk on his face.

Gwen crosses her arms as we stand in front of him, I can't help but feel a bit out of place. "Him. Seriously. We're a package deal, Flash. We both help you, or neither of us help you. Take it or leave it."

Flash shakes his head with a smile. "I don't know how you landed her, Parker."

I stuff my hands in my pocket with a shrug. "I wonder about that too."

Gwen holds my arm pressing against me. "We're a team. That's all there is to it, so Flash, hope you brought your books because from now on every morning between class it'll be me, you, and Peter."

Flash and I both give each other an awkward glance.

Was this really fine?

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

After a redundant morning of getting absolutely nowhere with Flash, Gwen and I finally called it when the bell rang. Flash had struggled through basic algebra like he was trying to decode ancient runes, and I don't think my awkward attempts to explain it helped much. It wasn't long after that that Flash decided to thank me by shoving my head in a toilet. But hey, maybe we're making progress. Baby steps, right?

Lunch rolls around, and things get...weird.

I'm sitting at my usual spot, picking at the mystery meat on my tray. Gwen's off doing committee work with Liz, and with Harry still MIA, it's just me today. I'm halfway through a thought about skipping biology when Felicia Hardy saunters over to my table, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Parker," she says smoothly, sliding into the seat across from me.

"Yeah?" I say, raising an eyebrow, taking a sip of water, trying to figure out what her angle is.

Without a word, she pulls out her phone and holds it up in front of me. On the screen, a video begins to play. It's J. Jonah Jameson, spitting his usual anti-Spider-Man rhetoric, but this time, he's not alone. He's interviewing someone.

I squint at the screen, leaning in to get a better look at the man sitting beside Jonah. He's older, rugged-looking, with sharp features and eyes that gleam with a kind of wild intensity that doesn't match the calm, measured tone of his voice.

"You see," the man begins, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his face, "I come from a long line of hunters." He pauses for dramatic effect, clearly reveling in the attention. "But as a hunter, I have claimed the heads of every wild beast on this planet. There is no greater thrill than conquering a creature believed to be unkillable. I live for the hunt and nothing else."

Jonah leans in, clapping his hands together like a man who's just been served the juiciest piece of gossip. "Well, Mr. Kraven, I have to ask," he says, his tone dripping with excitement, "I'm sure you've heard about the menace that haunts the streets of New York—the so-called Spider-Man. He swings around like this is his own personal playground, flaunting the law, doing whatever he pleases. Have you come here to put an end to him? To free New York from his reign of terror?"

Kraven laughs—a deep, guttural sound that sends a chill down my spine. "You speak of this Spider-Man as if he were a man," he says, his grin widening. "No, he's nothing more than a beast—an elusive one, I'll give him that, but a beast nonetheless. And I, the greatest hunter the world has ever known, will bring him down. The people of this city deserve to live without fear of this creature, and I will be the one to deliver that peace."

He stands suddenly, spreading his arms like a preacher addressing his flock. "I will claim this Spider-Man. And once I do, I will truly be Kraven...the Hunter!"

Jonah practically beams with excitement, clapping his hands again. "There you have it, folks! Kraven, the world's greatest hunter, has come to rid us of our Spider problem once and for all."

I narrow my eyes at the screen, my mind racing. "So he's just... announcing his plans for murder? Online? Doesn't seem like the smartest guy."

Felicia lowers the phone and raises an eyebrow at me. "You should probably be taking this more seriously, Parker," she says, her voice tinged with frustration. "I've been hearing things—about the explosion at the building last week. People are scared, and scared people need someone to blame. If you haven't been checking online lately, that someone is you. Or rather, Spider-Man."

I frown, her words sinking in like a lead weight in my chest. "But it wasn't me. The people who were there know that. I mean, I stopped Dr. Octavius and his crew from leveling half the city. That's got to count for something, right?"

Felicia crosses her arms, her expression softening just a little. "Yeah, to me it does, Parker. But to everyone else? The people who don't see what really happens, who only know what they read online or what Jonah blares on his stupid show—it's just Spider-Man. Another freak fight. Another explosion. Another disaster in the city." She pauses, watching me closely. "It's hard to tell the difference between the heroes and the villains when all they see is the destruction left behind."

Her words hit harder than I expect, and I can't help the bitter edge that creeps into my voice. "Is that what you think? That I'm just... ruining lives?"

Felicia's gaze softens as she sits down next to me, her demeanor more gentle than I'm used to. "No, Parker, that's not what I think. I know you're out there saving people, doing the right thing. But not everyone sees it that way. And Kraven? He's dangerous, Peter. He's not just some random thrill-seeker. I've looked into him, and he's the real deal. He's taken down beasts that make the stuff you face look like child's play."

I cut her off before she can say more. "I got it."

She lets out a frustrated sigh, but there's a flicker of something more in her eyes—concern, maybe. "Look, Parker," she says, her voice quieter now, "I've got your back, always. But not everyone sees you the way I do. After everything that's happened in the last month, the city's on edge. People are angry. They're scared. They're tired of the chaos and destruction these 'super freaks' bring, and unfortunately, you're part of that in their eyes."

I sit there, the weight of her words hitting me like a ton of bricks. Kraven's not just some two-bit thug looking to make a name—he's a hunter. And I'm his prey. If the city's already against me, taking me down might be easier for him than I'd like to admit.

"At the end of the day, he's just a guy. Strong, sure, but still human. If anything, my biggest problem is not hurting him too badly." I try to sound confident, and Felicia flashes me a grin that's halfway between amused and concerned.

She glances down for a second, then back at me. "So... did you see Osborn?"

I snort. "Which one?" She gives me that look—y'know, the one that says don't be cute, and I sigh. "Yeah, I saw him. You were right, he's... on that

stuff."

Felicia clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "That kid's got problems. And I'm not just talking about his mad scientist daddy issues."

I nod, thinking back to Harry. He's been through the wringer, especially after losing his mom. Ever since then, he's been off balance, like he's still searching for solid ground. "He's been through a lot," I say, almost to myself. "Kinda like you."

Felicia gives me a sharp look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I gesture to her arm. "You never told me where those bruises came from." The words come out before I can stop them, and for a split second, I'm ready to dodge a slap.

Instead, she glares. "I'm sorry, when did it become your job to know every detail of my life?"

"Since we became friends." I meet her eyes, trying not to back down. She scoffs and turns away.

"It's nothing. I fell." Her voice is flat, and we both know that's a lie.

I sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to push you. I just want you to know—"

"—That I can tell you anything, blah blah, I know the spiel." She cuts me off, but there's a tiny smile tugging at her lips. It's quick, but I catch it.

She looks at me with this unreadable expression. "Parker... I need to tell you something—"

"Peter!"

We both turn to see Gwen approaching, a little slower when she notices us sitting together. "Hey, Felicia," she says, settling in next to me.

Felicia doesn't miss a beat, her expression blank. "Hey." Then she stands up, facing me. "We'll talk later, Parker."

And just like that, she's gone.

Gwen watches her leave, frowning. "I'm starting to think she doesn't like me."

I nudge her playfully. "Don't take it personally. She's just... complicated."

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

I open the door to the apartment, the familiar creak of the hinges barely registering as I step inside.

The place is quiet, as usual, which means Aunt May's still pulling a double at the diner. She's been working even harder since Uncle Ben... after everything. But no matter how tough it gets, she never lets it show. She keeps pushing forward, like nothing could ever slow her down.

But I know better. The bills, the strain—it's always there, looming in the background. As much as she tries to hide it from me, it's hard to ignore. Every time I see those overdue notices, it hits me again.

I drop my backpack on the couch, then wander into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what I can make for dinner.

May's always so tired when she gets home, half the time she just crashes without eating. It's been forever since I cooked for her... but she deserves something nice tonight.

My mind drifts as I pull out the ingredients for lasagna, the way she loves it. I can do so much—super strength, reflexes, agility—stuff that could make me millions if I really wanted. I could clean up in pro sports, make enough money that Aunt May would never have to worry about anything ever again.

But that's not who she is. And that's not who I am, either.

As I wait for the beef to thaw in the sink, I grab my phone, scrolling through the usual nonsense. More articles calling Spider-Man a menace. You'd think I was public enemy number one. I mean, has anyone I've saved ever left a review? Apparently not.

And then there's Kraven.

The city's obsessed with him. He's all over the internet—photos with celebrities, pictures of his hunts. The guy even met Obama? Seriously? And he's got an Instagram. Of course he does.

I scroll through his feed, seeing all the stuff he's done, building wells and bridges in remote villages. The guy's out there helping people in ways I can't even imagine.

If he wasn't out to mount my head like a trophy, I might actually be impressed.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes—a 10-15. Civil disturbance. Not exactly Spider-Man's top priority, but... it's something. I glance at the beef in the sink. It's got a while to go, and honestly, I could use a break.

I grin, already thinking about giving my new suit a test run. I'll be back before the lasagna even knows it's missing me.

I dart upstairs, changing into my suit in record time. It's basically the same as the old one—can't mess with a classic too much, right? But I did add a little something extra this time. Gwen was onto something when she said it needed some more pizzazz.

So, I went ahead and put webbing under the armpits, a kind of "web wings" thing. It actually looks pretty cool.

One leap out the window, making sure no one's around, and I'm swinging through the city in seconds. The wind rushing past me, the city stretching out below—it never gets old.

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

"Captain Stacy!" I shout, landing on the hood of his car as a small crowd gathers around. Two other cop cars are parked nearby, but most of the attention is directed upward toward something I can't quite see. "What's going on?"

Captain Stacy glances up from his radio, raising an eyebrow at me. "Didn't think you'd show up here."

"Finished my homework," I say with a shrug, and he lets out a dry scoff.

"We've got a jumper," he says, pointing to a man standing on the ledge of a tall building. "Doesn't want to come down, says he'll jump if anyone gets too close."

A jumper. Great.

"I'll—"

Before I can finish, my Spidey sense explodes, and I twist just in time to dodge a rock flying at my head. I look down to see a man holding another rock, his face twisted in anger.

"We don't need you here, Spider-freak!" he yells, gearing up to throw the next one.

"If you're around, everything just gets worse!" a woman screams, launching her purse at me. Really? A purse?

More people start to gather, their voices rising in anger. Shouts of "Menace!" and "Get lost!" echo around me as the crowd grows more hostile by the second.

"Everyone back off!" Captain Stacy yells, moving to control the crowd with his officers. He throws me a quick nod, giving me the all-clear.

I don't waste a second. I fire a web and swing up to the roof, landing lightly beside the man. He's older, glasses perched crookedly on his nose, his thin frame trembling as he teeters dangerously close to the edge.

"It's... it's you," he stammers, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, it's me," I say, keeping my tone calm as I slowly approach him. "So, what brings you up here today? It's a long way down, and trust me, the landing isn't great."

He scoffs, looking down at the street below. "Better than getting a spear to the head."

I freeze. "A spear to the head?"

Before I can even process what he said, my Spidey sense flares again—this time, it's not a rock. An arrow slices through the air, headed right for me. I barely dodge, the arrow zipping past where I was standing a split second before.

"What the—"

The man with the glasses scrambles back inside the building. But my attention is locked on where the arrow came from. I look across the street, and there he is—Kraven. Standing tall on the rooftop opposite me, bow in hand, a cold, predatory smile on his face.

"Kraven," I mutter under my breath, feeling my muscles tense as I prepare for what's coming next.

Kraven turns and bolts down the alley, and I leap off the building, swinging after him. He moves like a parkour master, bouncing between the walls with barely any effort, dropping to the street below. I stick to the air, following close behind, just above. He twists mid-run, firing another arrow, which I dodge.

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"Seriously? A bow and arrow?!" I yell, firing a web toward him. He dodges it, slipping through traffic on the street like it's nothing, diving into another alley.

What's the deal with this guy? Isn't he supposed to be hunting me? This feels more like a weird cardio workout. I'm starting to feel bad for him.

I swing into the alley just as Kraven leaps through a broken window of an old building. Oh great, a setup for an ambush. I'm guessing he's hoping to lure me into some kind of trap, but this? This is child's play compared to going up against Dr. Octavius, Electro, or—well, most of my rogues' gallery.

I follow him through the shattered window, landing inside the dark, abandoned building.

The only light is what filters in from the street behind me, casting long shadows over the empty space.

Pitch black.

Perfect for Kraven's plan, I bet. He probably thinks taking away my sight will give him the upper hand.

"Seriously, man? Isn't all this running and hiding the opposite of what a hunter's supposed to do? And what's with the guy back on the roof? Did you hire him? Why do you want to fight me so badly? From what I—"

My Spidey sense flares again, and I launch myself into the air just as another arrow whizzes past, embedding itself in the concrete wall behind me with a sharp crack.

"Okay, that's getting old real fast," I mutter, dropping back into a crouch. My eyes scan the darkness, every sense on high alert. This guy's fast, I'll give him that. But if he thinks he's going to get the drop on me, he's in for a rude awakening.

As I crouch in the darkness, every instinct telling me to stay alert, Kraven makes his next move. The sudden, jarring blare of animal sounds—lions roaring, birds screeching, wolves howling—floods the room. It's deafening, and it's coming from all directions.

My hearing is now useless. The sounds are so loud and overwhelming that even my Spidey sense is struggling to cut through the noise.

I wince, trying to block out the disorienting cacophony. "Great, now he's got a zoo on speed dial," I mutter to myself. But this is no joke. Kraven's stripping away my advantages one sense at a time.

Then it gets worse.

My Spidey sense flares, a warning that arrows are flying at me, but without the ability to hear them, I'm disoriented.

I dive to the left as a shaft whizzes by, narrowly missing my shoulder. The darkness makes it impossible to pinpoint their origins.

I spring back to my feet, adrenaline pumping, my heart racing as I twist and turn to avoid the incoming projectiles.

Another arrow zips past my head, and I barely manage to dodge it. "Come on!" I shout into the void, frustration bubbling up. I can't keep this up forever, and Kraven knows it.

I can feel the presence of more than one person in the room, but the sound of growling animals and whistling arrows fills my ears, obscuring everything else.

The shadows seem to dance around me, taunting me with their silence. Kraven's clearly using the environment to his advantage, and right now, it's working.

Suddenly, the air is filled with a hissing sound, and I realize what's happening too late—canisters of tear gas begin to disperse around the room.

The acrid fumes fill my lungs, making me cough and choke. I try to retreat, but I can't see where I'm going, the gas making it hard to breathe and clouding my vision further.

I stagger, trying to regain my bearings, but the arrows keep coming. I twist and duck, my instincts taking over as I rely on muscle memory, but the pain in my chest is becoming unbearable. Each breath feels heavier, each step more precarious.

Out of nowhere, an arrow strikes my leg, the sharp pain jolting through me like a lightning bolt. I stagger and fall to one knee, the world around me swirling in a haze.

My mobility is hindered; I can't run or swing away. I reach down, grasping the shaft protruding from my thigh, but I can't pull it out. Panic begins to creep in.

And just like that, the arrows stop flying. The silence in the room feels deafening after the chaos, leaving me alone with my ragged breaths and the burning in my leg.

I lean against the wall, trying to steady myself, the darkness closing in around me.

"Kraven!" I call out, my voice echoing in the emptiness. "Is this your big plan? What are you waiting for?"

No response. Just the fading sounds of the wild, and the knowledge that I'm trapped—lost in a dark room, and the hunter has become the hunted.

The chaos of the dark room finally fades, and suddenly, the harsh overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating the space in a blinding glare. My eyes squint against the brightness, and I take a moment to adjust. As my vision clears, I see figures all around me, each one clad in gas masks. Their faces are obscured, but I can sense the cold menace radiating from them.

Then Kraven appears, leaping down from a higher ledge, a predatory grin spread across his face. He lands gracefully in front of me, arms crossed. "Ah, Spider-Man," he says, his voice smooth, almost soothing, yet dripping with mockery. "All your power, and yet you remain a mere child in a grown man's world."

I grit my teeth, anger bubbling inside me. "Coward!" I shout. "Hiding behind your little friends? Fight me yourself!"

Kraven chuckles softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "You misunderstand, my dear Spider. I didn't want to merely defeat you. I wanted to orchestrate your downfall with precision. After all, the strongest prey can still fall to the more cunning hunter."

With a flick of his wrist, one of his masked allies tosses him a spear. Kraven catches it effortlessly, spinning it in his hands with a flourish. "And now, I shall relish the thrill of the hunt."

Before I can respond, Kraven lunges at me. I scramble to my feet, adrenaline surging, but the pain from the arrow in my leg sends jolts of agony through my body. I can feel the heat of Kraven's presence as he closes in, the confidence in his movements making it clear he knows he has the upper hand.

We circle each other, and I throw a punch, but he sidesteps with effortless grace, his movements fluid and precise. "Where is the power you showed against those other animals?" he taunts, his voice like silk against my fraying nerves. I throw another punch, but he dances out of reach again, that infuriating smile never leaving his face.

I try to use my agility to my advantage, flipping and spinning to throw him off balance. But every time I think I've got a shot, the pain in my leg makes me hesitate just enough for him to dodge.

I can see the amusement in his eyes grow as he toys with me, and it only fuels my frustration.

"Come now, Spider-Man," he mocks, lunging forward with a swift kick that I barely block. "You can do better than this! You are meant to be a challenge!"

I feint left, then right, trying to gauge his movements, but he seems to anticipate my every move. I throw a web at him, hoping to bind his arms, but he ducks beneath it and counterattacks with the spear, slashing it just close enough to my side that I feel the rush of air as it cuts through.

"Too slow!" he taunts, and I growl in frustration, launching at him again. I kick high, aiming for his head, but he ducks under my leg and sweeps my other foot out from under me.

I crash to the ground with a thud, the air knocked out of my lungs.

I struggle to roll to my feet, but Kraven is upon me in an instant. He drives me back down, pinning me to the cold floor, the spear pressing against my throat.

I can feel the sharpness of the tip grazing my skin, and I swallow hard, my breath hitching.

"Such a pity," he breathes, his face inches from mine, "that you had such potential. But here you lie, beaten and broken. Even the mightiest of beasts must bow before a superior intellect."

I squirm beneath him, desperate to break free, but the pain in my leg is crippling. I focus on my Spidey sense, but it's drowned out by the haze of defeat settling over me. My vision blurs as I stare up at him, frustration and anger boiling in my chest.

"Don't count me out yet," I manage to say, but the confidence in my voice falters. The realization that I'm at his mercy sinks in. Kraven grins, savoring my predicament, knowing he has the advantage in this game.

In that moment, I know I have to think fast. If I'm going to escape this, I need to get into his head and turn the tables. "You think you're a hunter, Kraven?" I say, forcing a defiant grin. "What's it like knowing your victory is nothing without an audience? You're just a glorified actor in a sad little play."

Kraven's eyes narrow, the smile faltering for just a split second. It's enough of a crack for me to seize the opportunity. I brace my legs, leveraging the strength I have left, and buck him off, surprising him as I roll away from the spear's deadly edge.

He cracks his jaw, that smile on his face as if he's savoring every moment of this twisted game. It's the kind of smile that makes me feel like I'm being toyed with, like a mouse in the clutches of a cat.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" I ask, circling him cautiously, trying to keep my eyes on his movements while also glancing around for his masked henchmen lurking in the shadows.

"You have a great many enemies, Spider-Man," he replies, gripping his spear with a sinister intensity. "One of whom approached me with an offer too tempting to resist. What kind of man would I be to turn down the hunt of a lifetime?"

"Who hired you?" I press, but he just shakes his head, wagging his finger as if scolding a child.

"Not the most pressing concern at the moment, don't you think?" he taunts, and before I can respond, he lunges at me like a predator pouncing on its prey. His spear darts toward me, and I barely manage to evade the thrust.

Every strike he delivers is punctuated by the pain radiating from my leg. The arrow wound throbs with each movement, and I can feel the thin slice along my side reminding me of how close I am to the edge. I need to think creatively if I'm going to survive this.

I spring back, using the momentum to dodge another thrust, then throw a web at the ceiling, swinging upward and flipping over him.

I kick off the wall, aiming for a flying punch, but he sidesteps, his grin wide as he swipes at me with the spear. I land awkwardly, the pain in my leg forcing me to favor it.

"Nice try," he smirks, but I refuse to let him rattle me. I need to find a way to outsmart him. As I dodge another attack, I notice some of his henchmen shifting positions in the corners of the room. If I can keep them in my line of sight while using the space creatively, maybe I can gain the upper hand.

I feint left, then right, and finally kick off a wall again to launch myself back at him. This time, I get close enough to land a glancing blow to his shoulder. Kraven stumbles back slightly, surprise flickering across his face.

"Gotcha," I say through gritted teeth, my heart racing.

But just as I think I'm gaining momentum, Kraven's men spring into action. They draw their bows, and before I can react, a barrage of arrows whizzes through the air toward me. I twist and weave, adrenaline kicking in as I try to avoid the deadly projectiles, but the injuries slow me down.

One arrow grazes my shoulder, and I stumble, pain shooting through me like wildfire. "Ugh, come on!" I hiss, trying to shake off the pain and stay on my feet.

I need to escape, and fast. Using what little strength I have left, I dart for the window I came through, leaping towards it. I burst through just in time to hear Kraven's voice behind me, "Run all you want, Spider! The hunt has only just begun!"

I swing noting how the sky had finally become dark, the city lights blurring past me. But I can feel Kraven and his henchmen closing in, their shouts echoing off the buildings. I push myself, dodging around corners, but the wounds are weighing me down. I can't keep this up for long.

As I swing through the city, I spot a sewer grate and make a split-second decision. I drop down into the darkness below, landing in the damp, musty tunnels. The cool air feels refreshing against my skin, but I can't linger. I scramble deeper into the sewers, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I can hear their footsteps above me, the sound of their shouts reverberating through the tunnels as they search for me.

I crouch behind a wall, the adrenaline fading as I try to control my breathing. I can't let them find me, not when I'm bleeding so badly.

The footsteps grow faint, and for a moment, I think I might be safe. But then, the unmistakable sound of Kraven's voice echoes through the tunnels, calling out for me, taunting me. "You think you can hide from me, Spider?! The more you run the more exciting it becomes!"

I can feel the blood dripping down my leg and soaking into my suit. I need to find a way to stop it, but first, I need to stay hidden.

I slide into a narrow crevice in the wall, pressing myself into the shadows. My heart pounds in my chest, every sound amplifying my fear.

After what feels like an eternity, Kraven's voice fades, and I hear nothing but the distant dripping of water. I stay still, listening intently, and slowly the silence settles around me.

I'm safe for now, but the fight isn't over. I need to regroup, come up with a plan. But for the moment, I close my eyes, leaning against the cold stone, trying to catch my breath.

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

May won't be back home for another hour or so, and I realize Gwen's probably texted me a few times. She's going to think I'm a jerk for not responding. I left my phone in my room, hoping May didn't decide to come home early tonight.

I'm okay for now, though.

I'm okay. I'm okay.

I take a few deep breaths before scaling the familiar wall of Felicia's apartment. It's frustrating how redundant and repetitive it's become, coming here after a fight. "Felicia? You there?" I knock lightly on her window, hoping she's not too annoyed.

The window creaks open, and Felicia peeks her head out, her expression a mix of concern and annoyance. "What do you want?" she asks, but her tone softens as she takes in my state. "Come on."

I crawl inside, wincing as I notice the blood seeping onto her floor. "Sorry about that," I mutter, trying to brush it off.

Her eyes widen as she spots the arrow protruding from my leg. "Parker, what the hell...?"

I slide down to sit against the wall, the pain shooting through me like a jolt of electricity. "I'm sorry. I know I keep doing this..."

Felicia kneels beside me, her brows knitted together. "I...I'm not a doctor! I can't...I don't know what to do! Parker, you have a fucking arrow in your leg!" Her face is a mix of anger and frustration, and I can tell she's trying to keep it together.

"Yeah...yeah, I know," I groan, my voice strained. "Curtesy of our favorite animal-hunting psycho."

Felicia blinks, caught between panic and anger. She rummages under her bed and pulls out her first-aid kit, though I can see it's missing a few items from our previous near-death experiences. "There's...there's so much blood. God, I can't...I can't keep doing this," she says, gripping the arrow tightly. "This...this is probably going to hurt."

I give her a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. "You know me, I thrive on pain. Just call it a hobby."

"Funny. Really funny," she replies, sarcasm dripping from her words, but her hands are shaking slightly. "Okay, we need to pull this out fast before the bleeding gets worse. On three."

"Three?" I repeat, nervousness creeping into my voice. "Could we, I don't know, try counting to ten or something?"

"Do you want to bleed out, or do you want me to yank this arrow out?" she snaps, her concern surfacing beneath the annoyance.

"Alright, alright! One... two..."

With a quick, decisive motion, she pulls the arrow from my leg before I can even finish the count. Pain explodes through me, a flash of white-hot agony that makes me gasp.

"Peter!" Felicia cries, her eyes wide as she sees the blood streaming from the wound. She looks at her hands, which are now covered with my blood. "Why...why do you always end up this way?" For a second...I feel like I can see her eyes glisten with shed tears.

"Because I'm an idiot," I reply through gritted teeth, leaning back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. "Just... just patch me up, okay?"

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Okay, okay. I can do this. Just hold on." Her fingers move deftly as she cleans the wound, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the situation. She places another bandage on the cuts on my chest and shoulder, each stinging at her gentle touch.

I wince at the sting of antiseptic. "I'm sorry that this whole 'let's keep Peter alive' thing has become our main activity of friendship."

Felicia rolls her eyes but can't hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe if you didn't always get into these situations...we could find something else to do. As friends." She says her eyes focused on my wounds.

"Hey, where's the fun in that?" I shoot back, trying to keep the mood light despite the pain.

"Fun? This isn't fun!" she retorts, applying a bandage tightly around my leg. "This is like a horror movie."

I can't help but chuckle, despite the discomfort. "Yeah, but I'm the hero, right? Gotta keep the plot interesting."

She shakes her head, but there's a warmth in her gaze. "You're an idiot. An idiot, Peter Parker."

"An idiot who's extremely grateful you're keeping him alive." I say with a small laugh, but the laughter turns into a wince as I adjust my leg.

Felicia finishes wrapping the bandage and takes a step back, surveying her work. "There. You should at least be able to walk now. No more swinging for a bit, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll just let the bad guys know I'm taking a rain check on the whole 'Spider-Man' thing," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. But the reality is that my body feels heavy, and the adrenaline is starting to fade.

"Just shut up. Go get cleaned up before you bleed even more on my carpet," she says, the concern in her voice evident.

I nod, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Felicia. Really. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably die," she quips, but I catch the hint of sincerity beneath her sarcasm.

"True." I stand up slowly, testing my leg.

Felicia watches me with a mixture of worry and resolve. "Go take a shower. You smell like sewage. And...yell if you like fall on your face and can't get up or something."

"Gotcha," I assure her, giving her a soft smile. "Thanks again."

In the bathroom, the fluorescent lights flicker on, and I stand in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of myself. Dark circles under my eyes and dried blood on my chest tell the story of a long, brutal night. I can feel the arrow wound in my leg pulsing, but it's the weight of my failures that truly drags me down.

The memories swirl in my mind: the chaos of battles with the Sinister Six, as I've grown to like calling them. The screams of innocent bystanders lost in the crossfire. Each encounter leaves me questioning my choices and the impact of my actions.

I've dedicated myself to protecting this city, but lately, it feels like the city is turning against me, branding me a menace instead of a hero. I can't help but wonder if I've become the very thing I swore to fight against.

Harry's face flashes in my thoughts, and I feel a familiar ache in my chest. I couldn't save him from his own demons, and that guilt clings to me like a shadow.

I wonder if Uncle Ben would be proud of who I've become or if he would look at me with disappointment, seeing me as just another source of chaos. I was supposed to honor his memory, to be a beacon of hope, but instead, I feel like I'm dragging his legacy through the mud.

Aunt May and Gwen cross my mind, and a wave of sadness washes over me. They deserve so much more than the turmoil I bring into their lives. Would they still love me if they knew the truth of what I've become?

I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles whitening. "You're supposed to be better than this," I mutter to my reflection, but the words feel hollow. I'm losing sight of what it means to be Spider-Man.

The pressure is suffocating, and with every mistake, I feel myself slipping further from the path I once believed in. In this moment, I'm not sure if I'm doing right by Uncle Ben or if I'm just a failure, trapped in a cycle of pain and regret.

The shower is quick, the hot water washing away the remnants of the night, but the tension remains. I grab a towel and dry myself off, the faint sounds of voices reaching my ears from downstairs. I strain to listen, realizing it's Felicia.

"You're drunk... just... no, stop," she says, her voice laced with frustration.

I hear the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. "Look what you're doing! It's not... stop!" Another crash echoes through the house.

"You're... you're just like her... fucking... nagging..." The slurred voice confirms what I fear—it's her dad.

Panic sets in, and I rush to Felicia's room, staying quiet. I throw on one of her black hoodies and a pair of joggers, hope she doesn't get mad for me borrowing her clothes. I stuff my suit into a plastic bag from her closet. Just as I'm about to slip out the window, a loud smash from downstairs stops me in my tracks.

Felicia wouldn't want me to get involved. She wouldn't.

"Stop!" she yells, and that ignites a fire within me.

Ignoring the warning in my head, I dash through her room and down the hallway. As I descend the stairs, I see her dad grabbing Felicia by the back of her neck, his fist raised.

I can't let this happen.

With a burst of adrenaline, I leap over the railing, landing awkwardly on my wounded leg. Pain shoots up my body, but I push through it, rushing over to her dad before he can bring his fist down. I grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "What do you think you're doing?"

His eyes narrow, confusion mixing with anger. "What the f... you're that kid? What the hell are you doing in my house?! Felicia?! What is this?! Why is he over here?!"

Felicia looks at me, her expression a mix of gratitude and apprehension. "Peter..."

I release her dad's arm, and he stumbles back, regaining his balance. "You little—" He snatches a bottle from the counter and takes a swig, turning to Felicia with a twisted smile. "You really are just like your mother."

Her silence is deafening, and I can see the tension in her shoulders. This isn't the Felicia I know—she's not the type to back down. In this moment, she looks vulnerable, and it makes my blood boil. "Your daughter's a good person. And I won't stand by while you hurt her." I grasp Felicia's arm, pulling her toward the front door.

"What are you—" Felicia seems startled, but I don't hesitate.

"You walk out that door. You don't come back," her dad snarls, the bottle clutched tightly in his grip.

Felicia hesitates, her eyes drifting down to the floor, and I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on both of us. "Come on," I urge gently.

She looks back up at me, and for a brief second, I see uncertainty flicker in her eyes. But then, she finds my gaze and nods. "Okay."