The power of betrayal

More anger to soothe it's hunger

Narrator's P.O.V

It had been a couple of months since Y/N had taken up his new line of work and become infamous in certain circles, with jobs so high-profile that even Kingpin himself had taken notice. But regardless of the whispers of the underworld, he still had to keep up appearances as a regular student. Lately, that meant trying to balance school with everything else—which, unsurprisingly, brought its own set of challenges.

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Y/N slipped out of Physics as fast as he could, the weight of the day pressing down on him. He had bigger problems than school—problems like armoured soldiers, spider-themed heroes, and relentless gangsters. But as usual, there was one issue he couldn't seem to outrun: Gwen Stacy.

In the past few months, he'd become more aggressive, more violent, even getting into fights with Flash. The more his behavior changed, the more persistent Gwen became.

As he rounded the corner toward his locker, he spotted her waiting for him. Gwen stood leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His stomach tightened.

She'd never leave him alone. Not until she got what she wanted.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Her voice was soft but clear, cutting through the murmur of the crowded hallway. He quickened his pace, eyes darting left and right, looking for an escape.

But Gwen wasn't someone you could just brush off.

"Y/N!" She jogged to catch up, her blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, a determined look on her face. She caught his arm just as he reached his locker. "Seriously, can we talk?"

He tensed at her touch, his mind flashing back to the day everything changed—the day she turned on him. It had only been a few months, but it felt like yesterday.

"Not now, Gwen," Y/N muttered, yanking his arm free and wrenching open his locker with more force than necessary. "I've got stuff to do."

"You've *always* got stuff to do," she shot back, her voice sharp. "You've been dodging me for months."

He grabbed a few books and shoved them into his backpack without looking at her. "Yeah, well, maybe take the hint."

She wasn't deterred. "You can't keep running away. I know things got... messed up between us, but you can't just avoid me forever."

Y/N's jaw clenched. *Messed up* was an understatement. She'd publicly accused him of stealing their science project—*his* project, the one he had poured weeks into—after he fixed all her mistakes and made it work. She had turned the whole class against him, all for some petty revenge over something she *thought* he'd done.

"You got what you wanted, didn't you?" Y/N said coldly, finally turning to face her. "Everyone thinks you're a genius now. So why are you still bothering me?"

Gwen's expression softened, but her eyes still sparkled with frustration. "I didn't mean for things to go that far. I thought... I don't know what I thought. I was mad, okay?"

"Yeah, no kidding," Y/N snapped, slamming his locker shut. "You didn't even let me explain. Just went straight to trashing me."

She crossed her arms, guilt flickering across her face. "I overreacted, I know, but Brock told me you stole it."

Y/N's hands balled into fists. "It's *always* because of that prick."

"Shut up, okay? He made a mistake," Gwen said defensively. "You don't have to get all mad just because you're jealous."

Y/N swung his fist into the locker beside him, the metal crumpling under the force. "Jealous? You seriously think that's what this is about?"

Gwen's eyes widened, flicking to the dent in the locker, then back to his face. Her shock shifted into something like fear.

"I couldn't care less about whatever the two of you have going on," he growled. "The only thing I cared about was my *friend* not trusting me—immediately throwing insults at me and spreading rumors. I cared about my *only* friend abandoning everything we had, just because some guy you liked said he saw something that never even happened. That's what I cared about."

Her face softened, and for a moment, it looked like she might cry. But Y/N wasn't interested in her apologies. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far," Gwen said quietly. "I miss how things used to be."

"Things don't go back to how they were, Gwen," Y/N said, shaking his head. "Not after this."

Gwen looked stricken, and her gaze searched his face desperately. "Y/N, come on. I just want to fix this. I was wrong. You didn't deserve what happened. Can't we just talk? For real this time?"

But Y/N couldn't let her in. Not anymore. The person she thought she knew was gone.

"I'm not that guy anymore," he said, turning away. "Just drop it."

"You're still avoiding me," she accused, her voice rising with frustration. "Every time I try to apologize, you run off. You think I haven't noticed? You're scared of dealing with this."

He felt anger flare up, his grip tightening on his backpack strap. *Scared?* She had no idea what real fear was. She didn't know the stakes he was playing with, the enemies he'd made, or the power he wielded.

"I'm not scared," he said through gritted teeth. "I just don't care anymore."

"Really?" Gwen's voice dropped to a whisper, hurt flickering in her eyes. "Then why won't you even listen to me?"

Y/N clenched his jaw. He knew she was right—he *was* avoiding her. But the truth was, it wasn't just about the science project. The missions, the power, the violence—it had all twisted his world into something unrecognizable, and Gwen was a relic of a past that no longer fit.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, stepping away. "You're still stuck in high school drama. I've got bigger things to worry about."

"Y/N, we were friends!" Gwen's voice cracked with desperation. "I'm not the enemy here."

He felt a pang of guilt, but he shoved it down. It was too late for apologies. Too late for mending bridges. His world had changed, and Gwen didn't belong in it.

Without another word, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Gwen standing alone in the hallway, her eyes lingering on him as he disappeared into the crowd.

He pushed through the double doors and into the crisp morning air, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out, staring at the familiar message from the unknown number.

**Mission Report Required. Priority: High.**

Y/N glanced back at the school, at the life he was supposed to be living. Then he looked at the text.

There was no escaping the path he was on.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket,
Y/N strode toward the exit. The ring glowing brighter than ever.