At 15, Peter Parker faces a harsh awakening after the tragic death of his uncle, realizing the weight of the responsibilities that come with his newfound powers. Balancing the challenges of high school, a mysterious new girl, and the shocking transf...
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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."
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.
