At Parker's house, the television blared with breaking news.
"For those just tuning in, a major accident occurred earlier this evening at the laboratory of Osborne Industries," the anchor announced.
Uncle Ben, drying his hands with a dish towel, joined Peter in the living room.
"Although the details are still unclear, sources confirm that there have been fatalities," the anchor continued. "Osborne Industries has long been regarded as a leader in cutting-edge advancements in science and medicine. There is ongoing speculation in the medical community about their latest project. Reports suggest they've developed a revolutionary new product."
Footage of the lab after the explosion filled the screen—twisted metal, shattered glass, and plumes of smoke.
"It remains uncertain if the incident tonight is connected to this rumored breakthrough. Residents are advised to stay away from the Osborne Industries area for safety reasons."
Uncle Ben sighed, glancing at the screen. "I hope Mr. Norman is all right."
The anchor's voice carried on: "Authorities have not yet confirmed if Norman Osborne, the prominent businessman and owner of Osborne Industries, was present during the accident."
Uncle Ben turned toward Peter, his brows furrowed. "Peter, have you checked on Harry? Is he okay?"
Ben had always liked Harry Osborne, especially after visiting Osborne Manor with Peter during a school project.
"I called him earlier. Harry wasn't at the lab, so he's fine," Peter reassured him.
"Good." Uncle Ben exhaled, visibly relieved, and sank into his chair.
"Lately, it feels like trouble keeps piling up," he murmured, rubbing his temples. "First, Sheriff George Stacy gets hurt, and now the Osbornes face this tragedy. Everything's happening at once."
Uncle Ben was visibly tired. Aunt May's new job had thrown off their usual routine. Since she didn't yet have her own car, Ben had to shuttle her back and forth daily, which meant giving up his plans to work part-time as a taxi driver.
"Peter, did you say Aunt May's new job is at Feast?"
"Yes," Peter nodded. "I've seen their trucks around the city."
Uncle Ben smiled faintly. "She was just a volunteer at first, but now she's officially on the payroll."
"That's good. Who runs Feast?" Peter asked.
"A man named Antonia Aguilar," Uncle Ben replied. "May says he's a kind-hearted person, always helping the homeless."
Hearing this, Peter's curiosity piqued. Though Peter didn't know Antonia personally, the mention of his name sparked a sense of camaraderie.
"Have you met him?" Peter asked.
"No, but May says he keeps a low profile despite doing so much for the community."
"Aguilar…" Peter repeated, making a mental note.
For a moment, Peter entertained the idea of pretending to be a wealthy donor to meet Antonia Aguilar. If he could somehow influence him, maybe Aunt May's salary could be increased. However, his thoughts soon drifted to their ongoing financial struggles. Even with May's steady job, they were still tight on money.
He resolved to expedite the forged scholarship he was working on. Hopefully, the underground forgers he'd approached hadn't gotten into trouble yet.
After wrapping up the conversation with Uncle Ben, Peter retreated to his room upstairs.
---
Standing by his window, Peter examined a small, pink, transparent glass vial in his hand.
It was the vial Matt Murdock had given him the night before.
The poison inside had caused George Stacy to lose control, acting completely irrationally. But Peter suspected the substance had deeper, more dangerous effects that Murdock hadn't disclosed.
He raised the vial to the light, observing the pink mist swirling inside. His eyes seemed to pierce through the fog, descending into its mysterious depths. For a fleeting moment, he imagined a pair of sharp, blue eyes staring back at him from the abyss.
---
Elsewhere, Gwen Stacy sat by her father's hospital bed, holding a bottle of root beer. She was staring into the dark liquid, lost in thought.
"Gwen," George said, breaking the silence. "Are you even listening to me?"
Startled, Gwen coughed and quickly turned her attention back to her father.
"Of course, Dad," she replied, feigning calmness.
She felt a pang of guilt. She still couldn't fully explain why, earlier that day, she had instinctively jumped in front of Peter to shield him from a gun.
Was it because Peter was special to her?
No, she thought, shaking her head. That excuse wouldn't convince anyone, least of all herself.
George, however, wasn't buying her calm demeanor. His expression revealed that the incident bothered him deeply.
"Peter and I are just good friends," Gwen added defensively.
"Really? You're terrible at lying, Gwen. I can see right through you," George said, narrowing his eyes.
While George held Peter in high regard, he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that the boy harbored many secrets.
Earlier, when the armed man had raised his gun, it was Peter who had discreetly shifted the plastic carpet under the attacker's feet, causing him to stumble.
The boy had a knack for doing things that defied explanation. Though George appreciated Peter's bravery, he worried that his daughter might face even greater dangers if she got too close to him.
When George was under the influence of the poison, he had blurted out some of his buried fears about Peter. Now, those fears resurfaced, though he kept them to himself.
Gwen, meanwhile, could sense her father's concern. She decided to change the subject.
"Dad, you know how the pastor at church talks about purity, kindness, dignity, and all the virtues a girl should have?" she began.
George frowned slightly, unsure where Gwen was going with this.
"Well, I'm not that kind of girl," Gwen admitted. "I'm a little crazy."
She sighed, letting out a soft laugh.
"Since I was a kid, I've loved comic books, rock music, and all the things I wasn't supposed to like. I'd secretly watch kids at school smoke, then go home and bury myself in my comics or blast music all night.
Day after day, year after year, I became everything the pastor would frown upon."
George was taken aback by Gwen's candidness but stayed silent.
"So, yeah," Gwen continued, shrugging. "Sometimes I don't listen to your advice. But that's who I am."
George opened his mouth to respond, but Gwen cut him off.
"And I know what you're going to say," she added. "You're going to tell me to be cautious about love, right?"
Her tone turned serious.
"Well, Dad, when it comes to things like that, I trust my instincts."
George was speechless. He hadn't expected such a bold declaration from his daughter.
He sighed heavily, realizing how much Gwen had changed.
She's rebellious, he thought. But maybe that's a sign she's growing up.
---
The next morning, Peter arrived at Midtown High School.
As he opened his locker, snippets of conversation floated through the hallway.
"Did you hear about the explosion at Osborne Labs?" a boy said.
"Yeah, they said it was pretty bad. No word on whether Norman Osborne made it out alive."
Peter shut his locker and joined the stream of students heading to class.
---
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