Queens, New York City
"Aunt May, are you done packing everything?" Peter called out as he closed the trunk of their car.
Aunt May emerged from the house, carrying a cardboard box. She smiled, "All set, Peter. This is the last one. We're just waiting for Uncle Ben, and then we can head out."
Seeing her cheerful face, Peter looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, Aunt May. You're having to leave New York with me because of my situation."
"No, Peter," Aunt May reassured him, "Sometimes, a change of scenery can be a good thing. We've been in New York all these years, but I'm actually looking forward to the countryside. It might be better for your uncle and me."
Peter knew she was only trying to comfort him, but her words did make him feel a little better.
"Here, let me take that for you, Aunt May." He took the box from her hands and put it in the car.
Just then, a black sedan pulled up in front of them. Peter frowned as he recognized the car—it was George's. What was he doing here at this time of night?
Sure enough, as the car stopped, George got out.
"Hey, Peter," George greeted him, nodding politely to Aunt May, "Good evening, ma'am."
"Good evening, Officer George."
George smiled at Aunt May and said, "I'd like to have a quick chat with Peter if you don't mind."
Aunt May glanced at Peter, who gave her a reassuring nod. "Of course. I'll go make you both some tea," she said, heading back inside. Now only Peter and George stood outside.
George eyed the packed car, his curiosity piqued. "Peter, are you all going somewhere?"
Peter didn't hold back and explained that they were preparing to leave New York.
"While I'd love to wish you a safe journey, Peter, there's something I need your help with."
"Help?" Peter raised an eyebrow, surprised. He couldn't imagine what he could do to help the NYPD.
"First, though, I'd like you to see this." George showed Peter a video of a homeless man self-harming in jail, then handed him some paperwork.
As Peter watched, his face grew tense, and he quickly leafed through the lab report. Just a glance at the results confirmed his fears—the genetic modification serum had severe side effects.
Seeing Peter had grasped the situation, George said, "Our techs conducted psychological evaluations, and their findings connect this case directly to Oscorp's CEO, Norman Osborn. I know you work closely with Norman, so I was hoping you could help us treat his condition. That way, he could act as a direct witness, and we could get a warrant."
Peter clenched the documents in his hand. Norman had lied to him! He hadn't turned himself in as he promised.
"Alright, Uncle George. I'll come to the station with you." Peter's quick response made George's face light up. "Thanks, Peter. I knew you'd help."
Before George could finish, Peter cut him off, "But I have a condition."
"Name it, Peter," George agreed immediately.
"I need assurance from the police that my Uncle Ben and Aunt May will be safe. Only then can I fully commit to helping you." The last time, Connors had almost hurt them, leaving Peter shaken. He couldn't bear the thought of them being harmed because of him.
"Very reasonable. I'll arrange for their immediate transfer to a safe location."
Peter nodded. "I'll go let Aunt May know."
As he turned, he saw Aunt May standing by the door, holding two cups of tea. It was clear she'd heard at least part of the conversation.
Looking apologetic, Peter walked over. "Aunt May, it looks like we'll have to put off the countryside for now. There's something I have to deal with first."
Aunt May only smiled. Instead of reproaching him, she said warmly, "Don't worry about it, Peter. Do what you need to do. As long as it's for the right reasons, your uncle and I support you."
"Thank you, Aunt May."
As they talked, George came rushing over, looking frantic. "Sorry to cut this short, Peter, but an emergency just came up, and I have to go."
"I'll come back to pick you up as soon as I'm done."
Peter, curious at George's urgency, asked, "What happened?"
George didn't need to hide it since the whole city would soon know. "A spaceship is on a collision course with Central Bridge, New York. I need to get there and help organize the evacuation."
A spaceship crash? Both Peter and Aunt May looked shocked.
George took one last glance at their packed car. "Good thing you hadn't left yet, or you'd be stuck in the middle of it."
"I'll be off, Peter. We'll be in touch."
He pressed the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. "Instruct all units to initiate Level One Emergency Protocols. I'm on my way."
Watching George hurry off, Peter stayed silent, processing the gravity of the situation. But when he turned, he noticed Aunt May's face paling.
"Oh, my god…" Aunt May whispered.
Following her gaze, Peter looked to the sky, where a flaming "meteor" was plummeting toward the horizon.
...
"Norman… Osborn…" The white-haired general couldn't believe his eyes, even in his final moments. The face staring back at him belonged to Norman Osborn—the very same man who once bowed and scraped to him.
But now, Norman's glider had pierced multiple bloody holes through his body, leaving him slumped in his office chair, his lifeblood draining away as his face turned ghostly pale.
The Green Goblin perched on the general's desk, twirling a small dagger in his hand as he licked his lips. "No, no… Don't call me Norman Osborn," he sneered. "I much prefer the name 'Green Goblin!'"
The general was too weak to respond, forced to watch helplessly as Norman relished in his suffering. When he had had enough, the Green Goblin's suit sprouted vine-like tendrils, enveloping his head until he once again wore that hideous green face.
"Playtime's over. You can die slowly here." With that, the Green Goblin launched off his glider, crashing through the ceiling as his maniacal laughter echoed through the room.
The noise drew the attention of countless soldiers. By the time they burst through the office doors, moonlight streamed through the gaping hole in the roof, illuminating the general's bloodied body. The Green Goblin, however, was already far from the military base.
Having quenched his thirst for blood, the Green Goblin's bloodlust had abated somewhat. He glided lazily on his glider, muttering, "One down. Now, who's next? Who else can I kill?"
His gaze drifted toward New York, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Is that… a shooting star?"
...
New York, Central Bridge
Car horns blared, and the noise of chattering citizens filled the air.
"Evacuate in order! Women, children, and the elderly first!"
"You, check that building and see if there's anyone left behind!"
"And you, head to the park up front and make sure no stragglers are there!"
George barked orders with calm authority, organizing the evacuation. "The rest of you, set up the retreat line here. You, come with me!"
Despite George's best efforts, people's survival instincts kicked in. Everyone was desperate to leave, resulting in mounting chaos and congestion. The more crowded it became, the greater the risk of disaster.
"Move it, lady! I'm not dying here!" A tattooed man shoved his way forward, his massive frame bulldozing through the crowd. Before him stood a robust middle-aged woman carrying a child, advancing calmly in line with the others.
When he couldn't push past her, the man erupted in curses, scaring the child in the woman's arms into loud sobs. Furious, the man snatched the child out of her arms in one swift motion.
"What are you doing? Give me back my child!" the woman cried, panic-stricken.
With a sly grin, the man sneered, "Carrying a kid while running away just slows you down. I'll toss him out for you so you can move faster."
"No! Give him back!" The mother tried to reach for her child, but it was too late. The man threw the child in the direction of the retreat line.
"Mommy…!"
"No!!" The mother screamed as the man shoved his way forward, mocking her, "Go find your kid yourself, lady!"
The crowd watched the scene unfold, yet no one moved to help. Everyone was too focused on their own escape to spare a thought for others. The boy was flung toward the retreat line, and his mother's heart-wrenching screams were drowned out by the noise of the crowd.
"Chief, look! Catch that kid!" one of George's men shouted, and George's eyes snapped to the child hurtling through the air. His face turned ashen—if the boy landed in the crowd, a deadly stampede could break out.
...
If a stampede started, chaos would break loose completely. But right now, all they could do was watch helplessly as the child plummeted toward the crowd.
"Damn it! Who did this?" George cursed as he saw the child about to crash down. Just then, a silver web shot out from above, sticking to the child's back and pulling him away in the opposite direction.
A few detectives cheered, "Spider-Woman!"
George let out a sigh of relief, smiling gratefully.
With the child tucked under her arm, Gwen cooed, "Hey, brave little guy, if you stop crying, you can become Spider-Man too."
The boy, previously oblivious to danger, recognized Spider-Woman's voice and looked up.
"Spider-Woman! It's really you!"
Seeing it was Spider-Woman, he stopped crying immediately.
"That's right, the real deal. Now, let's get you to the police."
Gwen swung back to the evacuation line and handed the child over to George. "Good to see you again, Captain George. Looks like you need some help in here."
George chuckled, "Thanks, Spider-Woman."
Encouraged by his tone, Gwen teased, "Glad to help—if you don't arrest me."
George's face darkened. That was ancient history. Why did she still remember?
With a tug on her web, Gwen swung back toward the evacuating crowd. "Red Queen, scan that building for people, and locate that jerk who threw the kid."
With Red Queen's help, Gwen's vision shifted, showing an X-ray of nearby buildings. Several were marked with people inside, including one building with the tattooed man.
Wasting no time, Gwen snagged him with a web, dangling him in the air. Seeing Spider-Woman, the man grinned nervously, "Spider-Woman, did you come to rescue me?"
"Rescue my foot!"
Gwen punched him hard in the face, leaving him dazed and disoriented. She tossed the web holding him toward George's team and hacked into their radio.
"Keep an eye on him—he's the one who threw the kid."
Learning that he was the one responsible, the officers wasted no time in cuffing him.
"Hey, something's approaching the spaceship," one officer muttered.
Meanwhile, Gwen entered a nearby building, rescuing an elderly woman. As she turned back, she noticed a bright light streaking toward the ship in the sky.
"That's Iron Man, Tony Stark."
"Does he have a way to stop the ship from crashing?"
The Red Queen responded, "He appears to have a plan…"
At the same time, high above, Alan, in his Emperor Armor, watched Tony fly toward the ship.
"Red Queen, what do you think the chances are of Tony preventing this disaster?"
"Sixty percent…"
...
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