New York — Parker Residence — Late Afternoon
The late afternoon bathed the quiet neighborhood in a warm orange glow. The streets were peaceful, almost silent, disturbed only by the occasional passing car in the distance and the soft chirping of birds returning to their nests. Gwen walked briskly along the sidewalk, her bag resting on her shoulder.
She was now less than a minute away from the Parker house... a house that, over the years, had gradually become her home as well. Yet despite being so close to arriving, her eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the screen of her phone.
She had already checked it dozens of times during the walk, hoping to see a notification appear.
A message, a call…anything.
But the screen remained frustratingly empty.
Peter still hadn't replied, despite every attempt she had made to contact him since the incident at the laboratory. The more the minutes passed, the more a quiet sense of worry settled into her mind.
— "Is he... mad at me?"
A few moments later, Gwen finally arrived at the house. She slowly slipped her phone back into her pocket before opening the front door.
Instantly, the comforting aroma of a hot meal enveloped her. The smell of simmering meat, freshly cooked vegetables, and fragrant spices filled the entire house.
That familiar scent immediately brought a faint smile to her face. There was something deeply reassuring about this home. No matter what was happening outside, it always felt like a safe haven.
From the kitchen, Aunt May immediately looked up as she heard the door open.
A bright smile lit up her face.
— "Oh! Hi there, sweetheart!"
The moment Gwen saw May standing behind the stove, she felt part of her stress melt away.
— "Hi, Aunt May. How are you?"
May let out a small amused laugh before calmly returning to what she was cooking.
— "I almost hurt myself after tripping on the stairs, but—"
She didn't even have time to finish her sentence. Gwen's expression changed instantly, and her smile disappeared.
In a few hurried steps, she crossed the kitchen and wrapped May in a tight hug, her concern almost childlike.
— "Oh my God! Really?! You're not hurt, are you?!"
The moment she let go, she immediately began looking her over from head to toe.
Her hands instinctively checked May's arms, shoulders, and face, searching for the slightest injury or the smallest scratch she might have missed.
That reaction brought a smile to May's face, one filled with both tenderness and melancholy.
— "Oh no, don't worry! But it really shows me that I still have a little way to go. I thought I had completely recovered..."
May's words were accompanied by a gentle laugh, but Gwen could clearly hear the faint disappointment she was trying to hide behind her smile.
She gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
— "You just need to give your body time to recover completely. After everything you've been through... it's only natural."
A third voice suddenly echoed through the room.
— "She's right."
Startled, Gwen immediately turned her head.
Leaning casually against the corner of the room, Yuri Watanabe had been quietly watching the scene with her arms crossed. A faint amused smile had been resting on her face for several seconds.
— "Hey, Gwen. How are yo—"
Once again, she didn't get to finish her sentence.
Without thinking, Gwen walked straight over to her and wrapped her in a warm hug. For a brief moment, Yuri looked surprised by the sudden embrace.
Then her expression immediately softened. A genuine smile spread across her face as she gently returned the hug.
After everything that had happened over the past few weeks, that simple gesture meant far more than any words ever could.
A few moments later, the three women were seated together around the kitchen table. Several steaming plates had been carefully served in front of them.
Meat, vegetables, and potatoes made up a simple yet generous meal, prepared with all the love Aunt May always poured into her cooking.
The warm light hanging above the table softly illuminated the room, wrapping the kitchen in a particularly peaceful and homely atmosphere.
For a while, the conversation became lighthearted again. As the meal went on, Yuri began sharing several stories from her daily life as a police captain.
Some were funny. Others were far less amusing. But every one of them reflected just how difficult her job truly was.
Gwen and May listened attentively, laughing at some stories and reacting with surprise to others. Yet as the conversation continued, their eyes kept drifting back to Yuri's face.
Under the kitchen lights, several bruises were clearly visible across her cheeks and along her jawline.
Some were still dark purple. Others had already begun turning yellow. Neither of them had mentioned them until now...But it had become obvious that they had both noticed them.
— "Being a police officer really is a dangerous job."
Gwen naturally followed May's gaze. Looking more closely at the purple bruises spreading across Yuri's cheek and jaw, she couldn't help but wince slightly.
— "Is that why your face is covered in bruises...?"
Yuri gave a weary smile before absentmindedly brushing her fingers against one of the bruises, as though she had only just remembered they were there.
— "Yeah. Things got pretty rough... but unfortunately, we couldn't stop those criminals."
As she spoke those last words, her smile almost completely faded. A quiet frustration crossed her face. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and her hands slowly clenched around her utensils.
It wasn't just the physical pain that was eating away at her. It was the bitter feeling of having failed. Of watching criminals walk away free despite everything they had done to stop them.
May immediately noticed the change in her expression. Her gaze softened even more. She knew that look. The look of someone blaming themselves far more than they should.
— "The important thing is that you're still alive. As for them... you'll find a way eventually."
May's words seemed to ease Yuri's thoughts, if only a little. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and a faint smile returned to her face.
— "Yeah... you're right."
The conversation naturally faded after that. For several long moments, the only sounds filling the kitchen were the quiet scraping of silverware against plates.
Each of them continued eating in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Yet for Gwen, that silence only made the question that had been weighing on her mind since the beginning of dinner feel even heavier.
She hesitated.
She slowly speared a piece of vegetable with her fork, brought it to her mouth almost absentmindedly, then quietly took a breath.
She had to ask.
At last, she looked back up at Yuri.
— "And... what about Spider-Man? Are you still trying to arrest him...?"
The question lingered in the air. Yuri immediately stopped eating. Her eyes slowly left Gwen and settled on her plate.
The expression that had softened only moments before instantly became much darker.
She remained silent for several long seconds, as though answering required a genuine effort.
Finally, she looked back up.
— "Yes. Of course."
Gwen felt her heart tighten. Her eyebrows drew together slightly as she searched for the right words.
— "But, Yuri... you know it wasn't his fault. We were both there, and we know exactly what happened. Spider-Man didn't kill my father. Tombstone did... and no one else."
As she spoke, the memories of that night painfully resurfaced. The screams. The chaos. The gunfire. The image of her father. Her voice grew more fragile without her even realizing it.
— "If Spider-Man hadn't been there... I don't even know if we would've—"
— "No, Gwen!"
The response came almost instantly. In a sudden movement, Yuri slammed her fist down onto the table. The plates jumped, and the glasses rattled slightly.
The sharp sound echoed throughout the kitchen, instantly shattering the warmth that had filled the room only moments before.
A heavy silence immediately settled over the room, and Yuri's gaze had become much harder.
Her breathing had quickened.
— "Tombstone is responsible. That's obvious! But saying Spider-Man had nothing to do with it... that's not true!"
The words came out with an intensity she no longer seemed able to control. Faced with that reaction, Gwen instinctively lowered her eyes.
She didn't answer. She could see the anger in Yuri's eyes. But beneath that anger...She could also see all the pain this case was still causing her.
Beside them, May hadn't moved. She simply watched the two young women with the same calm that had always defined her.
The seconds passed slowly.
Little by little, Yuri realized the tone she had just used. Her breathing gradually returned to normal. She briefly closed her eyes before letting out a long sigh, as though trying to release all the tension that had built up inside her.
When she opened them again...The anger was gone. Only exhaustion remained. And a hint of guilt.
— "I-I'm sorry, May... I shouldn't have..."
May immediately offered her a warm smile. There was no judgment. No reproach. Only understanding.
— "It's alright. You know... I truly understand how you feel."
The last words May spoke slowly faded into the silence of the kitchen.
No one spoke again.
The conversation about Spider-Man had left behind a very different atmosphere from the one that had filled the room only a few minutes earlier.
Each of them now seemed lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds that continued to fill the kitchen were the quiet clinks of silverware against their plates.
No one really dared to restart the conversation. Gwen kept her eyes lowered to her meal. Yuri absentmindedly picked at her food without much of an appetite.
Meanwhile, May quietly observed the two young women. Yuri, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about her outburst. The more the seconds passed, the more she realized she had let her emotions get the better of her.
She hated losing her composure. Especially in front of May. A faint sense of guilt slowly began to show on her face. Instinctively searching for a way to finally ease the tension, she discreetly let her eyes wander around the kitchen.
Then her attention settled on something she hadn't noticed before. One chair was empty : Peter's.
Her eyebrows knitted together slightly.
— "By the way... where's Peter? I still haven't seen him since I got here."
The remark immediately made May look up.
— "Oh, that's right!"
Across the table, Gwen instantly felt her stomach tighten. Almost involuntarily, her fingers gripped her fork a little tighter.
Her heart began beating faster. She had not been prepared for that question. May continued naturally, completely unaware of the discomfort that had just settled over the young blonde.
— "I'm actually surprised you two didn't come home together. That's usually what happens."
For the briefest moment, Gwen felt her mind racing. She obviously couldn't tell them what had really happened at the laboratory.
Peter still wasn't answering her calls. She had no idea where he was. And the very last thing she wanted was to make May worry even more after everything she had already been through.
She quietly took a breath.
Then improvised.
— "U-Um... yeah... Actually, he had to finish something really important with Harry."
The words came out almost automatically. But the moment she finished speaking, she realized that explanation probably wouldn't be enough.
Her mind desperately searched for another detail that would make the lie more believable. Then an idea suddenly came to her.
She added,
— "Actually, now that I think about it... he asked me to tell you he'd be home late. He might even stay over at Harry's tonight."
May seemed to think about it for a brief moment before gently nodding.
— "Oh... alright. That's good to know."
Seeing that May didn't seem the least bit suspicious, Gwen quietly felt the pressure ease.
Even so, she hated lying to her. More than anything...She was worried that she still hadn't heard anything from Peter.
Despite the smile she kept on her face, part of her mind remained entirely focused on him.
Yuri, meanwhile, didn't notice anything unusual. She simply continued the conversation in a lighter tone.
— "Other than that... is he doing alright? I actually came by to check on everyone, and in the end... he's the only one I haven't seen."
Once again, Gwen felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her. She hid it behind a small nervous laugh.
— "You'll see him next time. It's no big deal."
She accompanied her answer with a gentle smile, natural enough not to raise any suspicion. Then, after the briefest hesitation, she added in a deliberately calm voice,
— "But... yeah. He's doing fine..."
The words left her lips with confidence.
Yet deep down...
She sincerely hoped they were true.
New York — Fisk Tower — Top Floor — Evening
Inside Fisk Tower, Peter slowly regained consciousness. The first sensation to return was the cold. An unpleasant chill slowly crept across his face as a faint breeze brushed against his skin.
Then came the pain. His back still throbbed where the darts had pierced him. Every muscle in his body felt as though it weighed a ton. And a dull ringing echoed relentlessly inside his head.
Peter struggled to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt unbelievably heavy. For several long seconds, his vision remained blurred, shifting between darkness and light, as though his mind still refused to fully return to reality.
Little by little, the outline of the ceiling came into focus above him...Or rather...The outline of a vast corridor lined with pale lights slowly drifting across his field of vision.
He wasn't walking. He was being dragged. His body scraped heavily across the cold floor, pulled without the slightest care for several yards.
In his condition, it took him another few seconds to fully understand what was happening.
Instinctively, he tried to lift an arm. Then a leg...Impossible. An intense pressure gripped his wrists, his ankles… Even his chest. With great difficulty, he lowered his eyes.
Thick steel chains were wrapped around every one of his limbs. They were so heavy… And fastened so tightly… That even the slightest movement was completely impossible.
Even trying to tense his muscles required an enormous effort. The substance injected during his fight with Silver Sable was clearly still taking effect.
His mind still drifted somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.
At times, he felt himself slipping back into sleep...
Then a second later, he would briefly regain a little clarity before everything started all over again.
Behind him, the metallic scraping of chains dragging across the floor echoed in rhythm with every step of the person pulling him : Silver Sable.
She let out a long sigh before slowly shaking her head.
— "I still can't believe you're just a kid."
Peter tried to answer. His lips barely parted...But no words came out.
A few yards ahead, a massive steel door came into view at the end of the corridor. Silver Sable stopped in front of it, placed a hand on the handle, and slowly pulled it open.
Immediately, a powerful gust of cool air rushed inside. The contrast with the suffocating atmosphere of the burning building was brutal.
They were outside.
On the rooftop of Fisk Tower.
The last rays of sunlight were slowly disappearing behind the skyscrapers of Manhattan, giving way to the city's first lights, which had already begun to shimmer in the growing darkness.
At that height, the wind blew much harder, while New York's towering skyline stretched endlessly in every direction.
Without the slightest bit of care, Silver Sable pulled Peter upright before forcing him into a heavy metal chair positioned in the middle of the rooftop.
The chains were securely fastened to it. Then she tightened several thick restraints around his chest, his arms, and his legs.
Every buckle was pulled as tight as possible… Until he could no longer make even the slightest movement. He was now completely immobilized.
The wind continued to blow around him, and silence settled over the rooftop for several seconds.
Then...Three figures slowly emerged from the darkness, calmly walking toward him. Peter struggled to lift his head. His vision was still blurred.
At first, all three figures were nothing more than vague silhouettes. Then, little by little, their faces came into focus.
There was...Wilson Fisk. Hammerhead. And...Tombstone. Peter's breath caught in his throat. His heart seemed to miss a beat before suddenly racing, and his stomach tightened.
For a brief instant...He was no longer standing on the rooftop of Fisk Tower. He was back on that night. The blows. The blood. George Stacy...His death.
A heavy silence filled the air. Peter was overwhelmed by guilt... By anger. Every memory came crashing back at once, colliding violently inside his mind, still clouded by the drug coursing through his body.
His breathing quickened despite himself. His hands instinctively struggled against the chains. They didn't move an inch. Several yards away, Wilson Fisk calmly stepped toward Tombstone.
His eyes briefly settled on Peter before he leaned slightly toward his right-hand man.
— "I agreed to your request because you've always been there when I needed you. But don't take too long. I'd like this spider business to finally be behind us."
Tombstone never took his eyes off Peter.
— "It won't take long."
Without looking away from Tombstone, Wilson Fisk gave a simple nod. He knew exactly how the man felt. Ever since their confrontation with Spider-Man, Tombstone had never truly gotten over that humiliation.
The young hero had taken everything from him.
His empire. His influence. And the position he had once held in New York's criminal underworld.
Today...The Kingpin was finally giving him the opportunity he'd been asking for all this time.
Without another word, Fisk stepped back several paces and deliberately remained in the background, leaving the entire scene to his lieutenant.
For several seconds...No one spoke. The wind drifted softly across the rooftop of Fisk Tower, making the criminals' clothes flutter as the lights of Manhattan gradually illuminated the city below.
Then...Tombstone finally began to move. He walked forward slowly. Without the slightest hint of haste. Each step echoed across the concrete in an almost oppressive silence.
His eyes never left Peter's for even a single second as the young hero remained completely restrained in his chair. The closer he came, the more satisfaction seemed to spread across his face.
He had imagined this moment for months. For months, he had dreamed of seeing Spider-Man stripped of all mobility...Unable to run. Unable to fight back...Unable to save anyone.
When he finally stopped just a few feet away, Tombstone remained perfectly still. He took his time looking him over. His eyes slowly traveled across the heavy chains imprisoning Peter's arms and legs...
The thick restraints securing him to the chair… Then finally settled on his now completely exposed face. For the first time since the beginning of their war...
Spider-Man was no longer a mask. He was no longer an untouchable figure emerging from the shadows. He was nothing more than an ordinary teenager.
Just...Peter Parker.
That thought alone slowly brought a smile to Tombstone's face. A cold smile. A slow smile. An almost sickening smile. The kind of smile only months of carefully nurtured hatred could produce.
— "Well... look who it is, Spider-Man."
His voice was calm...
Almost relaxed.
Like that of a man who already knew exactly how this story was going to end.
He deliberately allowed the silence to linger for a few more seconds, savoring Peter's expression before his smile widened even further.
— "Or should I say... Peter Parker."
TO BE CONTINUED.