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The Following TWO Chapters are available for Patrons.
Chapter 9 (On the cat's trail (1/2)), and Chapter 10 (On the cat's trail (2/2)) are already available for Patrons.
***
Sitting in an improvised chair on top of a building, Peter watched the city while sipping a milkshake. Every now and then, he absentmindedly slid his thumb across his phone screen, trying to ignore the discomfort throbbing beneath his skin.
His hands were covered by thin, cheap black gloves. They weren't ideal for protecting the burns, but they were the best he could afford with the little money he had.
In the distance, a siren cut through the night's silence, and Peter's fingers tightened around the cup, his jaw clenching.
'I should be out patrolling,' he thought, frustrated. Ever since he got back to work, Peter hated the feeling of uselessness, of standing still while the world outside carried on, full of dangers and problems. But it wasn't just his injured body holding him back.
The Spider-Man suit was in tatters. And the mask... half of it was still intact, but wearing it would be almost the same as announcing who he really was.
So, as much as it hurt, it was a definite no for Spider duty tonight.
Peter let out a tired sigh, leaning back in the chair and watching the city lights.
He knew he needed to rest, to recover, but his mind kept drifting back to the moment when he almost lost control. To the muffled sound of punches, the heat of anger burning hotter than any fire.
And to her. Yuriko Watanabe.
Peter didn't know anything about the officer. But the memory of her voice pulling him back, stopping him from crossing a line he didn't want to cross… that was carved into his mind.
He wondered how she was. If she had woken up. If she was okay.
The phone vibrated in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a simple notification, nothing important.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and took another sip of the milkshake, now almost finished.
Peter closed his eyes, letting the weight of the world collapse from his shoulders. And for a moment, everything around him disappeared. The sound of the city, the distant echo of sirens, even the hum of the wind between the buildings... it all faded away.
Then, after seconds? Minutes? Hours? Something pulled him back.
Peter opened his eyes slowly, and the world seemed to slow down. His heart pounded hard, echoing in his ears like a drum as he saw who stood in front of him.
There, at the edge of the building, she stood.
Gwen.
The wind lightly tousled her hair, illuminated by the glow of the city lights. Her gaze was fixed, deep, and yet distant as it met his, as if she wanted to convey something.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just watched.
The moment seemed to stretch, each second heavier than the last. And then, without warning, she fell back.
Peter screamed, a rough, desperate sound that tore through the night. He lunged forward, his burned fingers digging into the ledge as he leaned over the edge.
His eyes searched for her, anxious and desperate. But they found nothing.
Only the view below: streets bathed in the yellow glow of streetlights, cars passing, pedestrians walking. No body. No sign.
Nothing.
'This... the last time I had this was with Captain Stacy,' Peter thought, resting his head on his arm. He knew what it was. A hallucination.
Just like the ones he had with Gwen's father, who had appeared in front of him so many times. Silent. Judging. Reminding him of the promise he made.
But this? He had never seen Gwen while awake. Only in nightmares. Dreams where she fell again. Where he failed again.
Peter swallowed hard, feeling his stomach sink. "Don't start," he muttered to himself, his voice low and tense. "Please, don't start showing up to me."
***
[Oscorp]
In the main lobby, a spacious and modern area with glass walls that allowed natural light to flood in. The space, once bustling and full of life, now felt dark and silent, reflecting the crisis the company was facing.
Employees walked by in a hurry, though lacking the energy they once had, while security guards patrolled the area, reinforcing the sense of tension.
In the center of the lobby, a small group awaited the arrival of Otto Octavius. Gregory Harrow stood there, alongside a few board members, including Mrs. Thompson and Mr. Whitaker. All of them seemed anxious, though for different reasons.
Harrow, visibly uncomfortable with the situation, adjusted the collar of his shirt while glancing at his watch. Mrs. Thompson stood with her arms crossed, clearly skeptical about the idea of bringing Otto back. Meanwhile, Mr. Whitaker looked more hopeful, believing the co-founder could be the company's salvation.
Finally, the glass doors slid open, and Otto Octavius entered the lobby. His hair, streaked with gray, was neatly cut, and he wore a flawless suit. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, Otto walked with firm steps toward the group, followed by two assistants carrying briefcases.
"Dr. Octavius, welcome back to Oscorp," Harrow greeted, extending his hand with a forced smile.
Otto ignored the outstretched hand and looked directly at Harrow from behind his sunglasses. "Gregory," he said, his tone leaving no doubt about his lack of patience for formalities. "Let's get straight to the point. You called me back because the company is on the brink of collapse. I'm not here for political games or to save reputations. I'm here to save Oscorp."
Mrs. Thompson frowned, uncomfortable with Otto's stance. "Dr. Octavius, while we recognize your expertise, we must be clear that the current situation requires more than just technical knowledge. We need someone who can handle investors, the media, and authorities. Someone who can restore confidence."
Otto slowly turned to her, removing his sunglasses to reveal a piercing gaze. "Mrs. Thompson, I founded this company alongside Norman Osborn. I know every project, every research, every secret this company has ever had. And unlike some present here, I don't need a media campaign to prove my worth. I am Oscorp."
The silence that followed was heavy. Harrow tried to intervene, but Otto raised his hand, silencing him. "I didn't come here to argue. I came to take control. And if you want me to save this company, you'll need to give me full authority. No interference, no committees, no bureaucracy. I make the decisions, and you follow them. It's that simple."
Mr. Whitaker stepped forward, trying to calm the tension. "Dr. Octavius, we understand your position, but we need to ensure that your decisions align with the company's interests and those of the shareholders. We can't simply hand over control without—"
"You don't have a choice," Otto interrupted, his voice firm and relentless. "Oscorp is on the edge of the abyss, and I'm the only one who can pull it back. If you don't trust me, then keep watching the stocks plummet until there's nothing left."
Harrow looked around at the board members, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Mrs. Thompson seemed ready to protest, but a third board member interrupted her with a gesture. "Dr. Octavius," he began, choosing his words carefully, "if you're willing to take on this responsibility, then you'll have our support. But we need assurances that your actions will be transparent and that you'll keep the board informed of all major developments."
Otto smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he had already won. "Transparency has never been my strength. But if that's what you need to sleep at night, then you'll have your updates. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a company to save."
Without waiting for a response, Otto began walking toward the elevators, his assistants following closely behind. The group in the lobby stood still, watching as the elevator doors closed. Harrow finally let out a sigh, rubbing his face with his hands.
"Well," Mrs. Thompson said dryly, "I hope he knows what he's doing. Because if he doesn't, we're all doomed."
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.