The Amazing Spider-Man 3

Chapter 33

I woke up early the next morning so I would have enough time to make a new suit.  It was a Tuesday.  The sun hadn't even risen yet.  Workers were slowly arriving to investigate the streets.

While I was waiting on my suit to finish, I peeked back into the living room.  Aunt May was still on the couch, sound asleep.  I watched her body rise and fall, her face peaceful.

Then, I tiptoed to the guest room.  The chill of the early morning air was flowing through the still-broken window; we were going to replace it today.  The curtains fluttered from the soft breeze.  I sighed, then went into the bathroom to take a shower.

After the suit was finished, I put it on, slipping my clothes on over it.  I attached my web shooters, and then it was time for breakfast.

I ate a quick bowl of cereal and brushed my teeth.  Then I left, grabbing my backpack on the way out.  I snuck past Aunt May and exited through the front door.

---

Lance met me in the hallway.  He placed his hand on my shoulder, but I just slapped it off, ignoring him.  His eyebrows shot up, but he followed me as I walked.

"I missed you," he said.  "There's been a lot going on in town...It's a good thing you were there to save them, right?  Because I..."  I had him pinned against the wall before he could say another word.  Rage bubbled through my veins. 

The halls were deserted.  We were late to class.  I didn't care.

"Finally decided to stand up to me, eh?"  He muttered, his chin wrinkling as he lowered his head.  "It's about time.  I've been sick of the easy win."

"So have I," I said.  There was a tickle at the back of my brain that told me something was wrong.  It took everything I had in me not to shoot a web at him, sticking him to the wall.  That would only prove even further that I was, in fact, Spider-Man.  Instead, I backed up, then stormed off.  I heard Lance chuckling to himself.

---

Throughout the entire day, I was bipolar.  So many simple things would tick me off.  I had developed anger issues.  What was going on?

On my way back home, I stopped on an apartment roof.  Raged surged through me.  I closed my eyes, breathing heavily, not because I was tired, but because I was angry.  It was difficult to control it.  I struggled for several minutes, only to break out into a sweat and get absolutely nowhere.

Suddenly, a memory flashed into my mind, but only for an instant.  It was enough, though.  The black substance soaking into my suit.  The way the ink changed me.  The relief I had felt as soon as I had removed my black suit.

I gasped as the memory began to fade.  Somewhere, somehow, I was in contact with the ink.  I checked my clothing, my Spider-Man suit.  Nothing.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my right web shooter.  The strap was jet-black.

I was overcome with panic.  My eyes began to water as another flood of rage overcame me.  I had to get that thing off before something terrible happened.

I fumbled with the strap for a few minutes, then finally, my web shooter clattered onto the concrete roof.  I felt the familiar relief, then I collapsed to my knees, panting.

I was free.

---

That afternoon, I fixed my web shooter.  I replaced the strap, then checked my entire closet for even a hint of the black substance.  Nothing.

I slumped onto my bed, exhausted.  The strange ink was very powerful, using every last bit of my energy to make me "feel good."  Then, as soon as I was relieved of its power, I was weak and panting.

It took me hours to fully recover.

I was sitting in the living room watching television when Aunt May came home.  She was in her hospital uniform, several strands of her hair falling from her bun, hanging in her face.  She slumped down onto the couch beside me, exhausted.

"You know our conversation a couple of weeks ago?  When you offered for me to get bitten by a radioactive spider?"  She breathed.  I remembered our conversation: me refusing stitches, and Aunt May joking around about feeling jealous.

"Uh-huh."  I smirked.

"I might take you up on that offer," she said, laughing weakly, but jokingly.  "Perhaps it could give me the energy I need."

I laughed.  "Well maybe you shouldn't work so hard.  They have other employees for a reason.  You're not supposed to do all of the work."

Aunt May smiled.  "I guess you're right."

---

That night, I stretched out on my bed, snuggled under my cozy sheets.  I stared up at my blank ceiling, thinking.

Harry's so-called "Sinister Six" was sent out to kill me.  They were expected to succeed.  I...with a little help from Gwen...had defeated five of them already.  Now Harry was the only one that remained.

Surely he was furious that his army had been defeated.  He would be very prepared to kill me, whatever the cost.  Whatever he had done to himself had made him insane.  He wanted to kill his best friend.

Was that even the case anymore?  I obviously wasn't the Green Goblin's friend, but the Harry that was still in there somewhere, was I still his best friend, after all I had done?

My eyelids drooped, and I let them close.  Soon, I fell into a deep but dreamless sleep.