Spider Man

Spider man The Animated Continuation

? Spider-Man 4: The Animated Continuation


Prefilm Summary
In the aftermath of Spider-Man 3, Peter Parker's life shifted from a mythic battle between good and evil to the quiet, complicated war of personal consequence.


Over the years, he tried to leave Spider-Man behind. Always brought back and stopped from quitting.


In 2009, Adrian Toomes -- a brilliant but increasingly bitter industrialist -- rose to prominence by orchestrating a hostile takeover of Oscorp, merging it into his own rapidly expanding Toomes Enterprises. Seeking to cement his legacy and protect his daughter's future amid corporate infighting that threatened to disinherit her, Toomes handpicked a gifted scientific team to pioneer cutting-edge biological and technological research. This team, composed of Gabriel Joshua, Phil Urich, Miles Warren, Dr. Curt Connors, Dr. Morbius, Vanessa Stegron, Deborah Whitman, and a young Peter Parker fresh from the Daily Bugle, formed a close-knit circle of innovation under Toomes' patronage. However, unbeknownst to most, Toomes' growing paranoia and desperation to thwart the company board's plans led him to clandestinely launch Project Deathwing, a
Wing suit designed to weaponize genetic and biomechanical research. Donning the menacing identity of the Vulture, he orchestrated violent reprisals against rivals, he and Spider-Man fought and ultimately leading to his arrest in 2009. The scandal shattered the research team's reputation, scattering them in shame: Phil Urich abandoned bioengineering entirely, haunted by guilt, and turned to forensic science, determined to solve murders as a way of atoning for those indirectly caused by his past work. He remained socially close to Peter and MJ, attending their wedding with Aunt May even attempting to set him up with MJ's cousin. Meanwhile, the rest of the former team, secretly financed by occasional anonymous grants from Toomes' loyal daughter, founded Horizon Labs, vowing to pursue more ethical scientific endeavors.


From the moment Horizon Labs opened its doors, Gabriel Joshua revealed his true, monstrous nature. He was never simply a man corrupted by ambition; Kindred and Gabriel were two faces of the same predator, a hollow soul wearing a friendly mask. Driven by a deep, shark-like boredom and a desire to match -- not out of envy but out of twisted fascination -- the legendary Spider-Man, Gabriel began surgically, painfully modifying his own body. He already knew Peter was Spider-Man and methodically honed himself into something more lethal, treating mutilation as art. Around them, old acquaintances faced their own falls: Quentin Beck, once a horror icon akin to Freddy Krueger with a career that dominated the '80s and early '90s, tumbled into desperation after cancer and bankruptcy. In 2009, Beck staged a monstrous "film" by dosing an entire apartment block with hallucinogens, donning his vintage Mysterio suit, and terrorizing tenants for footage. Spider-Man intervened, halting the madness before lives were lost. Beck was sentenced to twelve years, receiving chemotherapy behind bars, and was released cancer-free in 2022, quickly hired by the Buzz (funded and chaired by Silvermane) as a podcaster. His initial enthusiasm curdled as his popular podcast's thirst for sensation slowly twisted true crime into grotesque spectacle, something he deeply resented. Meanwhile, Morbius, grappling with his deteriorating blood disease, sought Gabriel's help in 2010, only for Kindred to sabotage his cure. Peter and Deborah Whitman saved Morbius from unleashing his monstrous instincts on innocents; since then, Morbius survived on unstable medication. Miles Warren, avoiding villainy, instead pursued life-saving cloned organs, creating his magnum opus -- a cloned brain. Tragically, Gabriel perverted this, crafting three sentient, lethal, metallic-organic centipedes. Even Dr. Connors' quest to cure disability went awry: when his mutagenic chamber accidentally fused him and Vanessa Stegron into savage lizard-like beings, they grew dangerously fixated on each other, almost hunting their human families. Though Peter, Morbius, and the Horizon team rallied to help, Kindred ensured lasting horror by inserting mutagens to sabotage any cure.


While the physical battles of Spider-Man and foes occurred in public. In private, Peter and MJs relationship progressed. Proposal. Wedding, best manned by Gabriel Joshua to the pregnancy of Annie-May Parker. Peter's first daughter. But even deeper than private, to the unseen, Peter felt distant from MJ during her pregnancy. An upheaval in personality change which led Peter to feel like she was no longer herself. This led him to grow closer to Deborah Whitman. Although none physical, emotionally, fleetingly quick moments, they were more than just friends. Before Peter could be tempted by his own lying mind on the matter, Peter ended the affair a month before Annie was due. MJ never said anything... but she knew and although Peter told Deborah they were over. Something lingered unsaid between them, till the day she died.


2011... the 5th of may.


5/5 -- the day Spider-Man stopped. It began with Peter on the docks battling Kindred's enthralled workers. In the middle of combat, he received news: MJ was in labor, and Aunt May was on her way to her side. After defeating Kindred's puppet, a brainwashed George Stacy Jr, brother of Gwen and Sarah Stacy. Peter raced toward Times Square only to find devastation already unleashed. Explosions rocked the heart of the city; 87 lay dead, hundreds wounded, and amidst the horror, Aunt May's lifeless body. Peter fought Kindred in a desperate, brutal showdown that tore through glass and concrete, with Kindred slaughtering bystanders for pleasure. Peter destroyed Kindred's monstrous centipedes by drowning, electrocution, and raw brute force, ultimately forcing their brawl to Horizon Labs. There, a high school field trip had just arrived. Horrified and broken, Peter tried to defend the students as his back was shattered beyond full recovery. As Kindred prepared to massacre them, the Horizon team -- Connors, Warren, Morbius, Vanessa, Deborah -- intervened, shielding the children with their own bodies. Connors recalibrated the chamber as the others fell, and Morbius dragged Kindred inside. Connors faked both his and Gabriel's deaths to shield Peter from exposure. Slipping out of his suit, Peter stumbled into Phil Urich's car, oblivious to his dual life, and was driven to the hospital where he reached MJ moments before Annie-May's birth. Cradling his newborn while mourning Aunt May, Peter later burned his Spider-Man suit in the hospital furnace. On screen, news anchors praised the "New York Six" -- Gabriel's vile grin among their photos -- as heroes. In truth, Kindred survived, spirited away by Connors to a cold war bunker, where he would linger under Peter and Connors' watchful eyes. Thus, Spider-Man's era ended, replaced by a haunted father nursing lifelong wounds while an old demon waited patiently in the dark, whispering that they were never truly finished. Peter's closest colleagues, and the city's sense of safety was shattered, Hammerhead,known only then as Joseph Brhatva, law abiding grandfather and jewellry shop owner, was disfigured. A young boy, Liam Weele, was rendered deaf, due to proximity of the blast. And Peter was left with a disability. A slipping disk in his back. A column of his spine which is untethered. He can walk, he can run. And jump, but he is in constant pain, relying on medication. And if the disk slips. Temporary paralysis of his lower body and excruciating pain.


In the decade that followed, he buried the Spider-Man persona and tried to live as a man again--taking a professorship at NYU, doing right by doctor connors training him during his time at Horizon, raising Annie-May and then her younger sister Belle-June with Mary Jane Watson, and maintaining fragile connections with what little remained of his past. But the mask never truly left him. His body carried chronic pain from his years as Spider-Man. His mind carried the hallucinated echoes of Kindred, Uncle Ben, and a blood-soaked Times Square. And though Mary Jane stayed, the foundation of their marriage quietly fractured under the weight of unspoken trauma. By 2026, the relationship dissolved. Mary Jane left Peter and, within a month, began seeing Paul Radin--an emotionally available, grounded man who offered her the consistency Peter no longer could.


Spider-Man 4 begins three months later.


All this prefilm backstreet will be shown or told by reference, action, flashbacks via ptsd or hallucination or as unresolved threads intentionally for the future.


SPIDERMAN 4
START


The web and time montage


The first thing is music DANNY ELFMAN'S iconic score seeping through the silence.
The screen lies in utter darkness, and then a single silver thread of webbing flashes into view, tracing a delicate, lacy pattern against a field of black. The title SPIDER-MAN spins from right top corner to center of screen. Shrinking from an unimaginable size is number 4, shrinking to sit beneath the title; then fading beneath it. THE ANIMATED CONTINUATION. The titles all spin out as the silk lining shifts. As more strands weave across the void, the view travels as if rising or falling into the cracks. Rich images tumble in synchronized dance--each snapshot glimmering like a memory caught in spider silk. First come Newspaper headlines, then images, snapshots of previous Spider-Man films rendered in the lush, painterly style of Alex Ross: the youthful Peter Parker posing with his beloved Mary Jane, Uncle Ben's final, somber portrait, Norman Osborn's proud rise and terrible downfall Doc ocks loss and sacrifice, and Harry's grief-stricken vow of vengeance. With each new web line, the montage presses forward in time.


The Danny Elfman theme swells to resemble the Black suit suite as symbiote goo drips across these vignettes, smearing frames of Peter in the black suit--its inky tendrils twisting like living sinew until the suit is ripped away, blood-and-shadow clashing with heroism. We glimpse Sandman rising from the earth and Spider-Man's fateful showdown with Venom, the symbiote torn off his back yet leaving one trembling strand behind. The music darkens in gravity as the scaffold of images shifts from classic film lore to 17 worth of unfilmed history in quicksilver fragments: Peter graduating ESU High, MJ landing her first big film, the last embers of Oscorp glowing in the skyline, T.O.M.B.E.S. Enterprise scandal--Peter's own scientific venture, HORIZON LABS--coming to life. Marriage, friendship, a new house, Mysterio's attempted last film, pregnant announcement and echoes of "dinosaurs" in the big apple.


The music marries Trent Reznor in eeriness.
Then the montage jerks into disaster. Headlines scream "Demon in New York," intercut with flashbulb bursts of May 5, 2011: aftermath photos, Memorials, Aunt May's grave Spider-Man's burning mask, and the birth screams of baby Annie-May echo through smoke and sirens. 87 dead count.


Then music returns to the original THEME
The first tentative smiles of Mary Jane's pregnancy--all collide in a furious tapestry of creation and destruction.


As the web's silver lines grow ash gray, more recent seasons slide into view: Peter becoming a professor, Belle-June's first breath three years later, Silvermane's supposed philanthropy in water purification, political invasions of Symkaria by Latveria, and the slow fracture in Peter and MJ's The jagged silhouette of Silver Sabilina joining NYU faculty. The final image is the most haunting: Peter alone in an infinity mirror, his youthful self and his Spider-Man self locked in eternal gaze with the tired, bearded man he's become. The last musical note quivers, and the web's silk dissolves into smoke--leaving us poised on the threshold of a story defined by memory, loss, and the inescapable weave of time itself.


Act 1
The first shot of the film is moving boxes. Peter is waving his girls goodbye as they drive into the distance.
Peter now lives alone in his modest Queens home plagued by PTSD and episodes of disability ,unbearable pain brought on by his back, while Mary Jane and the girls have moved to Manhattan's Upper East Side. A quiet ache fills the air. Annie-May, now fifteen, is rebellious, clever, and dangerously drawn to risk. Belle-June, eleven, is more internal--plagued by sensory overload and a quiet observance that pierces through adult fades. Their lives are uprooted as they begin at new schools: East Side Middle for Belle, and Eleanor Roosevelt High for Annie.
Their departure is on Sunday, Peter counts down the weekdays on a calendar to weekend, till they come to him.


Meanwhile, New York is unraveling under the weight of organized crime. A new synthetic street drug--Xenium--has begun to circulate, manufactured and trafficked by the Maggia, a shadowy consortium of ethnic crime families led by the aged but still formidable Silvermane and enforced by men like Hammerhead, Montana, Ox, and Fancy Dan. The enforcers are no longer cartoonish goons; they are violent, entrenched figures with their own twisted philosophies of order and control.


Peter, withdrawn but dutiful, spends the following week trying to do his part for his daughters. He teaches bio chemistry during the week, mentors former student Grady Scraps, shares coffee with the brilliant but emotionally armoured Silver Sabilina (a refugee Symkarian and political exile), and quietly suffers the guilt of doing nothing as New York declines. He has a glimpse of everyday heroism when he saves a seizing man and his dog from a subway tunnel train but the undeserving shame that follows plagues his mind.Annie, resentful to Mary Jane and Paul, becomes overtly aggressive at theirs. At school she immediately clicks with social outsider DAVIDA KIRBY but scared of the school's social food chain she makes an attempt to impress new friends, Meridith Campbell and her high school royalty. Pressured to: do homework, push away Davida and later towards the end of act 1 drink alcohol and take Xenium--brought into her orbit by a manipulative student named Wesley, using her crush on him as leverage.
Belle, sensitive and hyper-aware, finds it difficult to cope with sudden upheaval of the family life. She at her new home becomes chaotic but is slowly by half ostracation and half self imposed is lonely at school despite efforts of Courtney Durran to be her friend.


The weekend allows the girls levit, release, peters relationship with his girl shine but is strained as he tries to juggle the new normal. In moments of hearing about how his children's lives have changed he contemplates putting the mask on but he ultimately doesn't. Believing the quiet life of a father is more necessary to their safety. Sunday comes around again and they leave.


The inciting incident.
Paul days before had been told by his boss, Ox, who uses the construction business as a money laundering front, that he can't keep having late starts and early clock offs. Something he and Mary Jane argued over. So on the 8th day of the children moving to be with Paul and Mary Jane everything fractures. Paul, unable to pick the girls up from their school, leaves them to their own devices. Belle and Courteney are chased and nearly attacked by a bully and his friends named FABIAN. However his act of violence is thwarted by LIAM WEELER. The deaf boy's presence is enough and he walks home the 2 girls, Belle is shaken but Annie. Annie is pressured to spend the day with meridith, coming home drunk and chemically dazed after the night out. In her fog, she forgets to shut the apartment door. Hours later, Tuesday, extremely early hours of morning, a mugger enters the building. Mrs. Pritchard, Paul's kindhearted elderly neighbour, is murdered in the confusion. The bullet pierces the wall--shattering a family photo of Peter, MJ, and the girls.


A phone call leads to Peter visiting the scene. He's accompanied by his old friend and forensic officer Phil Urich, the last surviving member of the Toomes enterprise team. The sight of Belle--wide-eyed and shaken--and Annie, curled in guilt, cracks something inside Peter. His old instincts stir. His silence, his restraint, his rationalisations for staying out of it--they no longer hold weight.


Later, Peter ascends into his attic and opens an old storage box from Aunt May. Within it is a crude sketch of the Spider-Man suit--his design, his rules, his code. In a ghostlike vision, he sees himself in the past, reaching into the hospital furnace to retrieve the burning mask. The fire whispers with Kindred's laughter. But Peter, older now, doesn't flinch. He webs it out of the flames.


And then--cut to black.


This is no longer the story of a young man trying to become a hero. It is the story of a broken father reclaiming his vow. The city may no longer cheer for Spider-Man. His family may no longer need him as a husband. But Peter Parker will not stand by while the streets claim the innocent again.


Act 2A - "The Return"


Fifteen years after his last swing through the city, Peter Parker suits up once again--but this return is not heralded by applause or awe. It begins in silence, in observation, in the unseen spaces between morality and memory. On Wednesday morning, Peter boards his usual train to work at NYU. A pickpocket, who's long operated without fear of consequence, attempts his daily routine--lifting Peter's phone during a routine stop. But this time, Peter is ready. As the thief exits the train and turns on the phone, his face falls. The lock screen displays an image: a grainy photo of the thief himself, entering his own apartment. Peter approaches calmly and reclaims his phone, responding with a disarming smile and a quiet suggestion--"maybe try helping people instead." It's a small act of redemption. But it signals the first ripple of change: Peter Parker is no longer ignoring the rot.


Despite this flicker of assertiveness, Peter tries to maintain normalcy. He returns to his lectures, engaging with students and keeping up appearances. But at lunch, he stumbles upon something that shakes him--a Xenium transaction, happening in plain sight. The memory of Mrs. Pritchard's death, of Annie's bruised trust, presses down on him. He checks in with his daughters--still reeling, still raw--but he says nothing about what he's seen. That evening, as twilight sets in, Peter doesn't exit through the front of the university like usual. Instead, he ascends to the rooftop, cameras capturing only his shadow. There, he dons the new suit--its stitching imperfect, its foundation experimental. Gone is the red and blue. Now it's crimson red and slightly ashy black with a gold back emblem, copper wire like webbing pattern and black reflective eye lenses He inhales. And then, for the first time in over a decade, he leaps into the sky.


Spider-Man swings across New York--not as a saviour, but as a ghost. He watches, listens, trails the city's heartbeat. He swings by the NYPD, beside fire escapes, across alleyways where Maggia deals are brokered and addicts beg for relief. He's photographed by Yukio Tazumi, a young journalist obsessed with his mythos. He passes over Paul's apartment, his daughters watching unknowingly from inside. But the most affected is Mary Jane. As she catches sight of him through the window--suspended in shadow, only a silhouette of the man she once loved--her heart lurches. In that moment, she doesn't fall back in love with Peter Parker. She falls for Spider-Man again, that impossible promise of protection. As the sun sets, Peter tears off the mask and roars--not with triumph, but with confusion, a scream of fractured identity echoing across the skyline.


The next morning, Annie and Belle return to school like ghosts. Their names echo in the corridors, met with whispers and sideways glances. Annie attempts to reconcile with her former best friend Davida, but Davida rebuffs her--having explicitly warned her to stay away from Meredith and her clique. The sting of that failure pushes Annie back toward those very same people. Her infatuation with Wesley deepens, though it's not rooted in anything tangible--only the fleeting comfort of being seen. Meanwhile, Belle finds solace with Liam, the quiet boy in her sensory room, and begins to feel a fragile tether of safety return. Courtney, Belle's classmate, begins to feel pushed aside--her early kindness met with emotional distance as Belle gravitates toward Liam's quieter steadiness.


As his daughters try to stitch themselves back together, Peter begins mapping the city--pinpointing where the Maggia moves, where the cops turn blind eyes, where Spider-Man is most needed. He starts showing up late to work, missing meetings. His chemistry with Silver Sabilina, the Symkarian refugee and fellow professor, deepens--but neither of them are ready to name it. Silver, too, is haunted by war, exile, and ghosts of her own.


Across the river, Mary Jane paces, nervous energy burning through her fingertips. She contemplates calling Peter--her hand hovering over her phone like it's radioactive. Eventually, she texts him. Belle interrupts the moment, seeking a hug. MJ obliges, then curiously follows Yukio on social media. Her feed is filled with only one thing: #SpideysBack.


That night, Annie debates sneaking out. She stares at the ceiling. The image of the mugger who killed Mrs. Pritchard burns behind her eyelids. The memory, unblurred by drink or Xenium, is clear--photographic. Across the city, Peter stands atop a building, unmasked. He reads MJ's message. The flood of emotions--resentment, nostalgia, unresolved desire--crashes through him. In his mind, he hallucinates MJ and the children, sharing a picnic that never was. He sees Silver, too--seated beside him, their hands brushing but never touching. He shakes the vision away.


Suddenly, movement. A Xenium garage: crates, cash, guns, servers. Peter drops down. His presence is silent at first, unnoticed. Then the goons see him. Seventeen in total, they rush him in waves. Peter's body, rusty and wounded from age and disuse, strains under the assault. But he adapts--first distant, then closer. He relies less on webs and more on fists, on rage. One goon spots something in the corner: a massive, dust-covered vehicle. Wheeler's Wheels.


Later, Peter stands before a mirror, face swollen, black-eyed. And yet, he smiles. For the first time in years, he feels like something has been lifted--a weight he didn't realize was dragging him under.


Friday arrives with heavy air and hidden momentum. The school gym echoes with the bark of whistles and the dull thud of missed passes. Annie-May, shoulders hunched and expression flat, moves like a ghost across the court. Her coordination is off. Her mind is elsewhere. Every failed catch is another weight added to her internal burden. But as Coach Flash Thompson wheels up and down the sideline--still sharp-tongued but softened by years--his relentless commentary does something unexpected. It awakens her.


A flicker of resolve creeps in. Frustration morphs into focus. Muscle memory, once dulled by self-hate and chemical haze, re-engages. She dodges, pivots, accelerates. Something buried beneath the pain--perhaps the instincts of her father--begins to stir. Flash notices. He tracks her footwork, a precise echo of someone he once knew. When the game ends, Annie stands drenched in sweat but lit by a quiet pride. Flash, surprisingly genuine, praises her and offers a place on the hockey team. Annie, still emotionally guarded, asks bluntly: "Can I hit something?" Flash grins. "A puck. But trust me, the concentration needed... you won't have to." She accepts. Off to the side, Davida watches, distant and unsettled, as Flash asks the girls for soup kitchen leftovers in a moment of levity.


Meanwhile, Peter drifts through his workday at NYU, physically present but emotionally detached. During a lecture, he loses himself mid-sentence--memories and guilt swimming too loud to ignore. Grady Scraps, perceptive as always, reels him back in. Shaken but not embarrassed, Peter regains composure. In a moment of improvisation, inspired by medical dramas and moral ambiguity, he assigns a bold extracurricular challenge: his first-year students are to study and chemically break down Xenium--the mysterious street drug that's been spreading like rot through New York. The winner earns early access to a solo experiment track. The students, buzzing with the thrill of danger and prestige, take the bait.


Elsewhere, Belle-June is growing into herself. A once-quiet observer, she now leans into her own world, expressing complex emotions through writing. One teacher notes the morbid tone of her latest piece. Fabian, ever the bully, seizes the opportunity to taunt both Belle and Courtney. But Liam, silent yet steady, intervenes--not with fists or shouting, but with calm, deliberate presence. His signing speaks louder than Fabian's jeers. When Liam steps toward the coward, Fabian backs down. Belle and Courtney walk with Liam after, a small trio forged through quiet solidarity. Belle clings to the moment. Courtney, looking longingly at Liam, quietly envies the bond forming before her.


Peter, moving through the university with a slight limp and a weight in his chest, overhears a student's phone call: Yangz Diamondz, a boutique store near midtown, is being robbed. A moment's hesitation. Then resolve. Peter climbs the stairwell, dressing mid-run. Before donning the mask, he pauses--spots a CCTV camera. It saw him. With a sigh, he webs it and leaps into the sky.


Inside the store, chaos reigns. The Enforcers; Fancy Dan, blindingly fast and impossibly agile, hurls glass and fear in equal measure. Ox, towering and brutal, menaces hostages with car-crash punches. Montana, calm and coiled, barks orders while disabling security systems. Peter arrives silently and assesses--three-on-one odds, each opponent a genuine threat.


Round One begins.


Peter gulps. He fights smarter, not stronger--separating the trio where he can. Montana's precision with his whip is formidable, but Peter outmaneuvers him. Fancy Dan's martial arts clash with Peter's improvisation, a dance of speed and redirection. Ox is a wrecking ball, hurling Peter like paper, but the web-slinger finds leverage through the environment. The fight devastates the showroom--jewels flying, glass shattering. Eventually, Peter subdues them one by one.


He stands victorious, breathing heavily. The police arrive. Peter, hopeful, steps forward as he once did--ready to explain, to be thanked. Two older officers greet him like a returning colleague. Then a younger cop pulls a gun. Confusion. Tension.


Out steps Captain Sarah Stacy--daughter of the late George Stacy, sister to Gwen. She coldly commands the arrest. Peter, disheartened, swings away and perches silently above.


And then Hammerhead enters.


With calm authority and twisted charisma, he walks through the broken glass. One by one, hostages and even officers receive digital transfers--bribes. The subject lines are simple: "Hush." Hammerhead explains that the enforcers are his employees. That the building is his. That this was an internal disciplinary matter. Like a mobbed-up press conference, he turns chaos into community management. The police, silent and complicit, let the enforcers walk. Peter, perched above, watches the withered, scarred visage of a man he once considered a thug now manipulating systems with surgical precision.


Later that evening, Peter is late. Outside his home, Paul and MJ sit waiting in their car with Annie and Belle. Peter finally arrives, still carrying the aches and bruises of the day. The girls run to him. Paul mutters something under his breath. MJ smiles--cryptic, private, as though she knows something no one else does.


The next morning brings a quieter reprieve. Peter sits with Annie watching TV. She tells him about the hockey team. He nods with genuine surprise, especially upon learning that her coach is none other than Flash Thompson. Belle watches them from the side, noticing something fragile and important: her father is happier... but also further away, later and later each night.


That night, as the girls sleep, Annie stares at her phone. She wants to message Davida. But instead, she texts Wesley. Across the house, Peter sneaks out once more. He swings to NYU and breaks into the security booth, looping the camera footage with careful precision. It's a quiet heist. But in the shadows, he spots Stanley, his elderly janitor and friend, walking his rounds--sicker than he lets on. The moment is tense but passes. Peter swings home, lands silently--and nearly runs into Annie. He plays it off. She hugs him. He holds her a little too long.


Sunday dawns, pale and unassuming.


Before Paul and MJ arrive to collect the girls, Belle asks Peter a simple question: what happens when we die? The question stings more than it should. It lingers long after she leaves. Paul greets Peter coldly, but MJ lingers. She stands with Peter on the doorstep, quietly reminiscing. They laugh. And for a flicker, there is peace.


But the weight is still there.


It always is.


Monday begins as a soft descent--a day that promises no tragedy but is laced with emotional bruises. Annie-May, now bruised by rejection and mounting consequences, gives up on trying to rekindle her friendship with Davida. The attempt had only deepened the pain. So, she leans harder into what's familiar--Wesley, the smooth-talking boy who introduced her to Xenium, and who now becomes a shallow anchor. Her crush becomes obvious to everyone, especially Meredith, the queen of the high school clique. But Meredith doesn't protest out of affection for Wesley--she sees the threat Annie poses to the group's social structure, and she sharpens her claws with passive-aggressive mockery. For Annie, every interaction feels like walking a social tightrope.


Back at NYU, Peter's world is unraveling in a different way. While walking the campus, he's intercepted by April Riley, one of his brightest students. She's shaken--panicked, even. She's completed the Xenium analysis project Peter had half-heartedly assigned, and the results horrify her. The compound isn't just dangerous--it's catastrophic. The active substance is derived from trivium, the same unstable energy source Doc Ock had tried to stabilize over two decades ago. April walks Peter through the side effects: short-term euphoria, hyperactivity, muscle enhancement. But long-term? Organ failure. Cellular decay. Terminal cancer. And in rare cases--horrific mutations. There is a 0.2% chance of survival, and only through transformation into something monstrous. Peter's blood runs cold. Once again, the sins of his past--the scientific ambition, the battles he thought he'd ended--are poisoning the present.


Haunted, he goes for the roof, his usual place of meditation. But something stops him. Instead of putting on the mask, he pulls out his phone and dials Betty Brant--former colleague, now the editor-in-chief at the revamped Daily Bugle. They meet in the old building, a place layered in memory and ghost stories. They talk, at first, like old friends. The conversation turns. Peter urges her to run a story on Xenium. She refuses, citing editorial pressure and legal liability. He pushes again. She doesn't budge.


As he leaves, Peter passes Quentin Beck, now far from the master illusionist of old. He's a shadow--shaky, anxious, publicly disgraced and privately ashamed. He's just finished researching a true crime story about Cletus Kasady, and laments how the media forces him to make light of horror just to stay afloat. Peter had an idea but before he can reach him ,Silvermane and Jack Harner exit the elevator. Silvermane walks out like he's a god gift, with an almost Trumpian prose. He commands respect with jabs. He offers funding to and greets everyone like a friend; he even quips about talking to Peter's dean about a grant. Jack however is quiet and he listens. He's clean shaven but his eyes are tired and purple. They both have twitches something Peter notices but doesnt understand its meaning. He catches up and Peter and Quentin share a moment of unexpected vulnerability. Peter suggests that Quentin use his platform--not to entertain, but to expose. To tell the truth. Quentin hesitates, afraid he'll be fired. Peter gives him a quiet nudge: "Leave that with me." He dials MJ.


Meanwhile, Belle's routine is still shadowed by fear. She's hesitant to walk home from school. Phil Urich, her godfather and forensic scientist, has quietly taken on the role of guardian, picking up the girls when he can. His presence is light-hearted and warm--almost like an exhausted Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, more comedic than heroic, but always safe. Belle continues to ask him difficult questions--about death, about monsters, about why some things don't make sense. Phil never talks down to her. He just tells her the truth she can handle.


On the car ride home, Belle and Phil listen to Quentin Beck's podcast. The audio crackles with urgency. Quentin is breaking his silence--detailing Xenium, its dangers, its patterns. His voice grows louder, more emotional. Then there's a sudden pause. A scuffle. A shout. "Get out. You're fired." The podcast cuts off. In the passenger seat, Annie stares out the window, her face slack with dread. The symptoms Quentin described--spikes in agility, balance, and memory--are hers. Shame ripples through her as the consequences settle.


That night, Annie can't sleep. The memory of the mugger--the man who killed Mrs. Pritchard--has become a fixation. Her trauma has alchemized into determination. She throws on a black hoodie and slips out of the apartment, walking the streets alone. Her journey takes her past drunks, broken figures, addicts--and finally to the Silver String Club, a known Maggia haunt. Outside, she sees a familiar face: the mugger, being forced into a black car by Maggia goons. She follows the vehicle on foot, her heart pounding.


It leads to an abandoned military building, long since converted into a criminal den. She climbs to the roof, hiding among broken shingles and bird droppings. Through a window, she sees a scene like something out of a mob movie: the Enforcers stand flanking Hammerhead, who delivers a speech about debt, fear, and blood. Mrs. Pritchard's grandson is present--young, confused, trembling with a pistol in hand. He can't pull the trigger. Hammerhead gently takes the gun from him. Then, without hesitation, he delivers two sickening headbutts to the mugger's face. The man drops, lifeless.


Annie gasps. A roof tile slips. The men look up.


"Get her," Hammerhead growls.


She bolts.


The chase is on.


Montana is merciless, silent and cruel, intent on hurting her. Ox, slow but towering, just wants to talk her down. Fancy Dan, the fastest of the three, recognizes her youth--and goes slower on purpose. Annie runs like her life depends on it--because it does. She weaves through fences, slides under barriers, hides in trash piles. Eventually, she makes it home, throws the door shut behind her. MJ is already there, furious--but instead of yelling, she hugs Annie tightly.


"Please stop hating me," she whispers. "I love you. I don't want you to grow up like I did."


Annie, breathless and numb, stares at the apartment across the hall--Mrs. Pritchard's door, still sealed by police tape.


The next day, Tuesday, Peter returns to work after a sleepless night. Paul calls, inviting him to dinner--an attempt at familial civility. Peter accepts, unsure if he's doing the right thing. Later, Grady confronts Peter on his mentorship. Peter's absence is affecting students. Peter apologizes, and the two find a fragile peace. Grady changes the subject--asks Peter how he proposed to MJ. The moment is almost sweet.


Meanwhile, Annie finds herself cornered in the bathroom by Meredith. The girl taunts her--jabbing at her about the hockey team, about her growing presence. Davida exits a stall and tries to help, but Annie, too ashamed, pushes her away. And yet... when they exit the bathroom, Annie calls her by her old nickname--a small, quiet act of friendship rekindled.


That evening, dinner at Peter's house becomes a powder keg. MJ, Paul, Annie, Belle, and Phil all sit together. The topics range from schoolwork to hockey to love to Spider-Man. The table becomes a microcosm of everything unsaid: guilt, resentment, longing. MJ and Paul are warm and pragmatic. Phil tries to break tension. Peter, awkward but honest, just listens.


Later, Peter spots a photograph posted online by Yukio Tazumi--an action shot of the Enforcers' robbery. The image is stunning, almost mythic. He marvels at its composition and clarity. In that moment, something stirs: the recognition that Spider-Man, though bruised and buried, is still being seen. Not by the world he once protected, but by a new generation trying to remember why they believed in heroes at all.


Wednesday begins not with a whisper, but a mechanical scream. Sparks fly in a cold, dim garage as drills bolt weaponry onto a monstrous machine: Big Wheel. Inside, Patricia Weele dons her tension suit--every strap pulled tight, every decision weighing on her body like steel. Voices echo from earlier that day--Hammerhead's coercion and Silvermane's promise: "Do this, and the debts go." "Be a spectacle. Casualties won't hurt either." This isn't a robbery; it's a show of force.


The mech roars to life and rumbles through the financial district. Inside a nearby bank, the mundane rhythm of loans and rejections is shattered as the floor vibrates. Water on a desk ripples like a warning. Outside, the mech thunders closer. People begin to notice. A bank employee looks up from his desk... and then, impact. Walls collapse. Dust erupts. Chaos descends. Patrons scream as the Big Wheel rolls into the lobby, towering like a god of chaos. Patricia, barely visible through smoke and steel, remotely activates the vehicle's guns and blows open the vault. She doesn't care for finesse. This is theater. She's the smoke screen. The distraction. The scapegoat.


Across the city, Peter is mid-lecture at NYU. The news alert hits a student's phone--mech on Wall Street. Peter goes silent. He hands off the class, bolts up the stairs, suits up on the roof, and this time webs the security camera without hesitation. He leaps, and the chase begins.


Peter arrives just as Patricia tries to re-enter the mech. He lunges, misses, and the machine roars to life again. What follows is a kinetic, breathless pursuit across rooftops, fire escapes, and crowded streets. The Big Wheel doesn't just roll--it climbs, scaling vertical skyscrapers with roaring engines and spider-like gears. Peter is dragged up walls, across rooftops, flung sideways. Each time he recovers, more exhausted. The webbing starts to strain. His timing frays. Onlookers barely escape falling debris. He realizes something: the mech never fires when climbing. It can't. It needs balance.


So he baits her.


At the apex of another climb, Peter challenges her to shoot. She does--and the mech slips. The vacuum of momentum breaks. The Big Wheel crashes down the side of the building, a skyscraper-high fall. Peter webs it desperately, struggling to slow it. Sparks burst. Crates fly. Finally, it slams into a parking lot, heavily damaged. Peter rips open the cockpit and tries to pull Pat out, but she lashes at him with a small blade--cracking his lens and nearly stabbing his eye. She escapes. The mech starts again, weaker, wobbling. It limps away toward the train yards.


Peter follows, limping too--his stamina failing, his side aching. He arrives at the yard. Silence. She's gone. Nothing but tracks and emptiness. The adrenaline fades. The pain surges. He pants, broken.


Later that day, Annie laces up her skates at the ice rink. It's quiet. Coach Flash Thompson watches, arms folded, skeptical but supportive. Annie stumbles at first--but then she lets go. Her footwork is rough, but raw talent bleeds through. Flash sees it. His own harsh past softens in her reflection. "You're a natural," he mutters. And Annie, for the first time in days, smiles with earned joy.


Thursday, Belle makes a decision. She's been secretly learning ALS to speak more clearly with Liam, and now she tries. Her efforts are imperfect, but earnest--and Liam lights up. For a fleeting moment, they laugh. Courtney, once Belle's protector, watches from afar, feeling left behind. The triangle quietly shifts. Meanwhile, Fabian targets Courtney now, ridiculing her isolation. But Belle, emboldened by Liam and truth, stands up. Fabian withers and walks away. Liam joins them, proud. It's a small victory--but monumental for Belle.


Later, Annie plays basketball in PE. Her confidence grows. Coach Thompson watches, pleased. But Robyn, a jealous classmate, isn't. She and her clique begin crafting a fake online account--one designed to target Annie, spread rumors, and remind her she doesn't belong. The threat is digital, but the harm is real.


Meanwhile, Peter is summoned by the Dean. He's falling behind in marking papers, absentminded, distracted. The Dean offers patience, but it's clear--Peter's time is running thin. On his way out, Peter glimpses Silver Sabilina mid-lecture. She smiles at him. He smiles back. But moments later, her class is interrupted. A group of students throw paint on her and raise a Latverian flag, chanting slurs about Symkaria. The digital board flickers with images from the Symkarian War. Silver nearly collapses. Her first instinct is to lash out--but she swallows it and flees.


Peter finds her later in a small Symkarian Orthodox Church, sitting beneath a statue of Saint Vuko--the patron saint of responsibility. He walks down the pew and notices someone else already praying: Hammerhead. He lights a candle and mutters in broken Symkarian. Peter, instead of attacking, sits beside him. They speak. No masks. No threats. No posturing. Just two broken men who understand that cities, like people, are shaped by their scars.


Hammerhead, although guarded at first, lets his real accent through when Peter finishes a Symkarian proverb. He explains his childhood, soviet Symkaria and his fear of being Symkarian post annexation. Peter listens and he shares his worry about fatherhood and about love. Silver returns, Hammerhead rises, refers to her by the ancient title: Sable. She corrects him: "I renounced that title." Outside, Maggia goons wait to pick Hammerhead up. A reminder: the man praying inside is still a monster.


Friday arrives with storms brewing. Davida walks through school with her guard up. Meredith throws something at her in the hall, but Davida ignores it. That's when the anonymous fake account goes live--posting vile rumors about Annie, calling her a slut, mocking her past with Xenium. Davida is horrified. She tells Annie. Annie, enraged, confronts Meredith in the hallway. It becomes physical. Hair is pulled. Slaps are thrown. Moose tries to intervene. Teachers rush in. Meredith cries. A tooth is chipped. Everyone is shaken.


Peter finds Silver alone in a lecture hall, scrubbing paint off the floor. The janitors couldn't get it out. He touches her cheek, not romantically, but humanly. She breaks. "I've killed people," she admits. "I've led soldiers to their deaths. And now they're trying to erase my people." Peter, unable to share his full story, says the only thing that matters: "I understand." They sit together. The camera spins. Visions overlap--Aunt May, 5/5, his wedding, her war, her shame. They nearly kiss. Students walk in. They pull back. But the moment has already changed them.


That evening, Peter returns home. Annie sits in Paul's car, head hung. Belle holds her hand. MJ reassures them. Paul wraps an arm around Annie. It's a quiet family moment... but Peter sees it from the outside. He's part of the picture, but never at its center. MJ speaks to him quietly. She tells him what happened.


He listens.


And says nothing.


Saturday dawns grey, weighed with emotional fallout. In the Parker home, the air hangs heavy, thick with unspoken tension and residual shame. Annie-May, her pride wounded from the fight and her inbox flooded with cruel messages from the fake account, simmers in self-loathing. Her eyes flit across the notifications--slurs disguised as jokes, accusations dressed as gossip. It's not just a digital assault. It's a reminder of everything she's trying to escape.


Peter notices. He doesn't scold. He doesn't dramatize. Instead, with unspoken compassion, he takes her phone and calmly screenshots the account. His voice is firm but soft: "Go to your room."


And then, quietly, he shifts into action. He moves Annie's bed, lays down an old sheet on the carpet, and calls Belle-June upstairs. Confused but curious, she joins them. Peter returns carrying paint cans--primary colors, left over from a forgotten home improvement project. Wordlessly, the three of them begin to dip their hands in paint and smear the wall. What begins as an act of catharsis--bright streaks of red and blue on white--evolves into laughter, mess, and chaos. Handprints overlap, colors swirl, and at some point, smearing becomes splattering. Belle chases Annie with dripping palms. Peter is caught in the crossfire.


It's childish. It's nonsensical. It's exactly what they need.


But Peter's smile is haunted. As the girls play, he watches them through a fog of guilt. Every time Silver Sabilina crosses his mind--her resilience, her tragedy, her grace--he feels drawn to her. But then he looks at his daughters, the memory of MJ, and wonders: if he just tried harder, could he still have this? Could he undo the damage?


That question doesn't leave him. It festers.


Sunday brings no clarity--only collision.


Peter stands at the edge of the pavement, waiting for MJ and Paul to drop the girls off. But when they arrive, something is clearly wrong. MJ and Paul are mid-argument in the front seats, voices tight and escalating. In the back, Annie folds into herself. Belle clutches her backpack like armor. It's a chilling mirror of the atmosphere Peter once tried so hard to shield them from.


Then, the unexpected. MJ steps out of the car--not toward the house, but toward Peter. Paul blinks in confusion. Annie leans forward nervously. A car screeches toward the curb, fast. Peter's instincts snap into focus. Before MJ can open her mouth, he tackles her, shielding her from the oncoming vehicle. It swerves and honks, barely missing them.


They land on the concrete. Annie and Belle scramble out of the car, panicked.


MJ, breathless beneath Peter, whispers just loud enough for him to hear:


> "I can always rely on you saving me."




They lie there a moment too long.


When they stand, everything resets--brushed off like a casual mistake. MJ gives Paul a short nod and shepherds the girls into the car. Peter watches them drive away, his shirt stained with city dust and sidewalk gravel.


But the damage isn't physical.


As the taillights vanish, Peter turns back toward his home, each step heavier than the last. He doesn't say it aloud--but inside, he knows: he can save her a thousand times, but some wounds can't be undone.


The final days of the second act open with the quietest of Mondays--a deceptive calm before chaos begins to spiral. Annie-May Parker is given a one-day suspension following the school altercation. As her younger sister Belle-June heads back to class alone, Mary Jane pleads with the school over the phone, trying to offer her side of the story, protect her daughter's future, and explain the layers behind Annie's recent behavior. It's a losing battle--but it's one MJ fights anyway.


At school, Belle navigates the day cautiously. She finds Courtney, and for the first time in days, they talk--not as protector and victim, but as equals who've been bruised in different ways. The air is heavy, but forgiveness finds a way to slip between their words. Belle also begins searching, almost nervously, for signs that Liam might see her differently now--not just as a friend, but perhaps something more. Then silence the clock hits 11. Its 9/11 remembrance the school is silent apart from ambient noises and motion. The school is silent. The silence ends and lessons restart and so does the chatter.


Meanwhile, Peter, unknowingly approaching the edge of another cliff, spends the day trailing the threads of Xenium. He corners April Riley, the student who first uncovered the drug's true origins. He presses her gently--where did the sample come from? Who was the source? She nervously describes the dealer's hangout--a street corner outside a gaming shop in Brooklyn. Peter knows it instantly. And he knows what must be done.


That evening, the camera cuts between two worlds--Peter stalking the alleyways in shadows, and The Enforcers, back at Precision Arms, a crooked gun shop tucked behind steel shutters. In the back room, Montana, Ox, and Fancy Dan are talking quietly. They muse about other lives--what if they had said no to the Maggia's training program? What if they hadn't become weapons? It's not regret exactly. Just weariness.


Then Peter crashes through the ceiling like thunder.


Round Two begins.


Unlike their previous encounter, this fight is claustrophobic and vicious. It unfolds not on rooftops or alleys, but inside narrow hallways and live-fire shooting ranges. Peter can't swing. He has to adapt--fast. The Enforcers push him hard. Ox tries to cave his ribs in with a riot shield. Montana pins Peter against gun lockers. Fancy Dan uses the dark corners for speed attacks. But Peter, reinvigorated by guilt and responsibility, fights like a man rediscovering his purpose.


Finally, backup arrives--actual police, not corrupted ones. The Enforcers are disarmed and arrested. One older officer shakes Spider-Man's hand, whispering, "Good to have you back." Peter doesn't reply--just nods and disappears.


Outside, Captain Sarah Stacy arrives. She's late. She watches from her car as the arrests are made. When she steps out, she doesn't draw her gun. Instead, she watches quietly. For now, her war with Spider-Man is paused. Her voice low, she congratulates the arresting officer--offering no credit to the man in the mask, but silently acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was right.


That night, Peter returns home, flicks on the news, 9/11 memorial parade footage and then he sees the story broadcast citywide. The headline reads: "Masked Vigilante Thwarts Arms Heist". His face is unreadable. He walks toward the Spider-Man suit, in a closet. He has in his hand a trash bag in which he stares thinking of putting it in... then closes it. Not tonight.


Tuesday dawns with emotional entanglement. Annie is allowed back to school. In the courtyard, Wesley is waiting--charming, grinning, expectant. He pulls her aside and finally confesses his feelings. They kiss. For a moment, it's sweet. But then Meredith, ever lurking, steps into view. Her presence shatters the illusion. The kiss, the timing, the ease--it doesn't add up. She realizes what Annie is only just beginning to suspect: Wesley is a chameleon. He told her the same things. Maybe he still does. She calls him out, and when he tries to stop her, she flinches. Annie watches it all, her eyes newly open.


Elsewhere, MJ and Peter sit across from each other in a lawyer's office. Their divorce--once a slow-burning ache--is now a signed, sealed moment. It begins cordial, even polite. But it quickly escalates. They trade subtle barbs, until Peter brings up Deborah Whitman--the emotional almost-affair he had years ago during MJ's pregnancy with Annie. MJ retaliates, revealing that her relationship with Paul Radin only began because Paul insisted she end things with Peter first. It wasn't an affair. It was an exit.


They sign the papers in silence.


Outside, on a city bench, they sit again--two people broken not by hatred, but by the long erosion of mismatched hearts. Their tone is softer now. They talk about their betrayals--not with anger, but with compassion. A mutual understanding forms. This wasn't a failure. It was inevitable.


Peter stands to leave. MJ grabs his hand. "Did we do the right thing?" she whispers. Her eyes are closed, searching. He doesn't answer. Their faces nearly meet--but then MJ's phone buzzes. It's Coach Flash Thompson, calling to confirm Annie's spot on the hockey team. The moment breaks. She relays the message to Peter. "I'll be there," he says.


Wednesday comes with both anticipation and dread. It's Annie's first hockey match, and both Peter and Paul arrive, standing awkwardly in line, neither knowing what to say. Annie, meanwhile, boards the team bus, unaware they're both there.


Inside the arena, Peter and Paul sit together. The silence is crushing. A stranger mistakes them for a couple. Peter offers a tight-lipped nod, calling Paul the stepdad. Paul doesn't correct him. The crowd begins to gather.


Annie skates onto the ice, uncertain at first--but as the game begins, her instincts take over. Her balance is sharp. Her reflexes are uncanny. The team starts to chant "Mayday!"--a nickname growing out of their admiration, unaware of its deeper, hidden significance. In the crowd, Peter's phone buzzes. An anonymous tip: a major weapons import is happening at the docks.


Peter hesitates. He looks at Annie. He listens to the chants. Then he leans over to Paul. "Work emergency," he says. Paul nods, half-understanding, half-suspicious.


Peter slips out, alone, as the cheers of "Mayday! Mayday!" echo behind him.


That night, Peter swings to the docks, expecting a firefight--but the warehouse is quiet. Too quiet. He moves cautiously, opens a crate. Inside--children's toys.


Then the shadows move.


Montana, Ox, Fancy Dan, and four corrupt cops step out, flanking him. Peter braces. They begin to fight, Peter manages to hold it despite the amount of combatants.--then Hammerhead emerges and charges directly into his back. Bones crack. Pain explodes. Peter hits the ground, screaming. He's no longer in a fight. He's back on 5/5, reliving his worst nightmare--Kindred's attack, Aunt May's death, his world ending.


He's paralyzed. Hammerhead looms over him.


"i respect you for being the light, but you can only light up so much," he says. "I don't want to be a monster, Spider-Man. I want to make sure none exist."


Then, as Peter watches, helpless, Hammerhead turns on one of the corrupt cops--a man outed for harming children. He delivers two brutal, wet headbutts, killing him instantly. Peter flinches. Somewhere deep inside, he asks himself: What do I actually stand for anymore?


And then, in the haze, Peter sees a vision--a sunny park. Aunt May trying to film on a phone but failing. Uncle Ben sat beside Peter on a bench, Harry Osborn helping aunt may with her technical difficulties. MJ playing with Annie and Belle as toddlers. Phil and Deborah on another bench almost like a couple. Peter and uncle Ben speak with poetry and Uncle Ben delivers the line "With great power..." he starts.


Peter sobs.


Flashbacks. Happy memories fill his heart. Even j jonah jameson appears. The last image is Belle-June as a baby in the NICU. She's laid in an incubator, tiny, Peter reaches his finger on and Belle grabs it with her full hand.


In reality:


Then clenches his fists.


He rises--slowly, painfully.


Hammerhead warns him to stay down.


Peter walks forward anyway.


"Heroes don't make little girls scared in their own homes," he says.


The fight resumes. Peter lands hit after hit, finally unleashing the fury he's kept buried. But after so long the Enforcers work as one. Together, they execute a devastating combination--throwing Peter through a wall and into the Hudson, a knife in his side.


Peter sinks.


Hammerhead scolds the trio, not wanting Spiderman dead only out of his way. He attempts to intimate them only for him to back down realising they could kill him if they actually wanted.


Darkness.


Peter is drowning, rolling in the current.


Until he's pulled onto a garbage barge. Waterlogged, coughing blood, barely alive.


He swings--disoriented and bleeding--to the only place he can go: MJ and Paul's apartment.


He taps on the window.


MJ opens it. Her face lights up.


Then drops.


Blood. So much blood.


She pulls him in, panicking, tending to his wound with glue and gauze and trembling hands. Peter, half-delirious, tries to kiss her. But MJ pulls back. Her infatuation has gone. She wanted to be saved to have adventure and feel important, now she's patching up her bleeding wouldbe hero whose lifestyle could destroy her family.


She loves him. But not like that. Not anymore.


Paul and Annie return. Peter pours red wine over the carpet to hide the blood. He vanishes out the window, just as Paul walks in. MJ turns to Paul, and for the first time, says aloud:


> "I love you."


It's not for show, it's the truth. Paul is who Mary Jane truly deserves and who is best for her and her children


Peter swings off into the night, more broken than he's ever been. His suit utterly destroyed


But somewhere inside him--


Something is waking up.


Act 3 - "The Last Days" (September 14-15)


The morning after Peter Parker's brutal beating feels like a hangover from a war. His body is stitched together by glue, gauze, and sheer willpower--but the emotional wounds are deeper. When he wakes, the scar from the knife wound is already forming on his side, a physical reminder of how close he came to death--again. He moves through the motions of morning as if underwater. Even boarding the train is mechanical. But as he sits in silence, he overhears a father telling his young daughter how Spider-Man saved him once, years ago. The words hit Peter like a soft blow to the chest. In that small, tender moment, something rekindles. The man in the mask might be broken--but he matters. He still matters.


At NYU, Peter learns that Stanley, the quiet janitor who always looked the other way when Peter needed to disappear, is retiring early--stage two cancer. Peter thanks him quietly. Then he steps into the university's main lab and begins work on something new: not just a suit, but the suit. The Next-Step Suit. He upgrades everything--web bombs, dart launchers, reinforced spinal bracing, electro-webs, built-in AI, and even a filming system for capturing evidence in real time. For the first time since 5/5, Peter doesn't look at the mask with fear or shame. He looks at it with pride. Though the suit isn't seen yet by the audience.


Elsewhere, Annie is beginning to breathe again. At school, she asks Davida to hang out. Davida--finally ready--agrees. She gives Annie her first Battle Jack badge, a band patch from Twenty One Pilots, Annie's favorite group. It's more than a gift. It's forgiveness.


But while Annie reclaims her sense of self, Belle-June finds herself spiraling toward another crisis. Unable to find Phil, she's gripped by anxiety and clings to Liam, following him home without hesitation. Inside, she meets Liam's father, who talks loudly on the phone about money. Belle tries to bond with Liam more, signing imperfectly, but her efforts are sincere.


Then the night collapses.


Belle overhears shouting. She peers out and sees Patricia Weele, out of costume, arguing with her husband--Liam's father. She's pleading, raw and panicked. "I did it for Liam. I did it for us," she says. He doesn't see a savior. He sees a threat. "I'm scared of you, Pat," he says before walking out. Liam watches it all, stunned.


Shaken and blaming his deafness, Liam disappears into the bathroom. There, under a loose floorboard, he finds it: a vial of Xenium, with a note--"From your friend, Wesley." Temptation wins. He takes it.


At first, euphoria returns. His hearing returns. But then, as the drug courses through his system, his hearing loudens to deafening screeches. His throat begins to close. He collapses, seizing, suffocating.


Belle screams for help.


Pat bursts in, panic overtaking her. They throw Liam into the back of a spray-painted Wellers Wheels car, Belle clutching his hand as Pat floors the gas. Liam drifts in and out of consciousness as sirens wail in the distance.


At the hospital, doctors fight to keep him alive. Belle is shell-shocked. Her eyes are red from crying. Phil Urich arrives and offers comfort, standing by her as police begin taking statements. He calmly tells Belle: "This is a Xenium reaction." The stakes have never been more personal.


Peter arrives minutes later, heart pounding. He rushes through the hospital but freezes when he sees Pat stumble past him--drunk, broken, crying. A familiar scent hits him. Big Wheel. The woman in the mech suit, the criminal distraction he chased across skyscrapers... was her.


He faces a choice: comfort his daughter, or confront the truth.


He stares looking back and forth at the 2 he sighs and he chooses the latter.


Pat returns to her garage. The camera blurs as the background fades into shadow and Peter's hand reaches into the frame--donning his new suit.


At the same time, in a decadent Maggia compound, Hammerhead hosts a banquet attended by all five major crime families: the Bratva, Triads, Yakuza, Irish Mob, and others. Fancy Dan, dressed in a suit, looks longingly at a photograph of his son. Montana broods. Ox adjusts his suit, uncomfortable in the collar and the lie.


At the head of the table, Silvermane sits with eerie calm, praising the Maggia's new empire. He pats Hammerhead's shoulder like a father figure and outlines the Xenium expansion plan: nationwide distribution, disguised as a philanthropic tech investment. One by one, the crime lords nod.


Then the banquet hall explodes as the Big Wheel mech crashes through walls and security.


Pat steps out--unhinged and furious--armed with a shotgun. She rants about hurting people, betrayal, and how she was promised peace. She quotes Silvermane's own words back to him. But her moment of defiance is short-lived. Despite making Hammerhead pause with his own flashback to 5/5 (his son, his granddaughter, kindreds smile, his pov as a cop tried to mercy kill him saying he isn't gonna make it only for Silvermane to stop him. Hammerheads scream as silvermane stands above him as the surgeon operates on his face) when she mentions her son. Montana hurls a plate, knocking pat unconscious. Silvermane calls for her execution.


Then--webbing snaps.


A guard is pulled upward, pinned to the ceiling.


Then another.


Panic erupts.


Spider-Man is here.


Peter drops down in silence, his suit is bright blue and a metallic red. Large back emblem spamming to his shoulders. Silver and a faint greenish glow on his lenses. This is Peter relearning who Spider-Man is. He faces Hammerhead, The Enforcers, dozens of thugs, and the crime bosses. He fights with precision and fury--his new gadgets stretching his reach, his body moving with intent and control. This isn't a teenager trying to prove himself. This is a man fighting for everything.


He fights with purpose. He fights with memory. He fights like it's the last time he'll ever wear the mask.


1 by 1 goons are defeated with webbing.


He tries to reason with Hammerhead as he fights. The Enforcers fall, finally outmatched. Eventually so does hammerhead realising he's too deep to stop.


As the NYPD swarm in, Captain Sarah Stacy enters and freezes at the carnage. For a moment, she reaches for her gun to aim at Spider-Man. Then she looks around--dozens of gang leaders arrested in one night. She lowers her weapon.


"Don't expect a thank you," she says. But her tone is different. It's...respect.


Hammerhead, bloody and subdued, asks Peter one question in his true accent: "did you kill him, i need to know, Is he dead? Is Kindred dead?"


Peter, haunted by Kindred's legacy, nods once lying. He's lied about it so much. Even he began to believe it when asked.


That's all Hammerhead needs. He walks willingly in handcuffs. One last look at Silvermane


In an odd turn of events, Sarah says thank you. Her eyes welling as if someone said, finally, peace.


But Silvermane tries to walk. The police almost let him. Then Jack Harner, his right-hand man, steps forward, revealing he's been an informant the entire time. Silvermane claims he's angry over not getting a bonus.


Then Yukio Tazumi appears, camera in hand. She shows the photos. Silvermane's rant becomes offensive as he still walks, he talks about woke mobs and fake information.


Finally, The nail in coffin. Spider-Man's pov footage.


Silvermane is caught, cuffed and escorted. Enraged, he lunges toward the Big Wheel, trying to escape. Pat, barely conscious, presses a button--self-destruct.


The mech explodes.


Silvermane is thrown backward, smoke and fire billowing around him.


Peter rushes in, refusing to let him die. Too many villains have perished. He performs emergency care, breathes life back into the crime boss. He experiences his last flashback. As he saves Silvermane he's reminded of all the innocents dead and dying around him, powerless to help. When Silvermane wakes, confused, Peter kneels beside him and says: "No. You're not dead. You're going to a cell."


He swings off into the night.


At the hospital, MJ is furious. She reads Peter the riot act. But when Belle hugs her father and shows Annie the photo Yukio took, even Paul begins to soften. He sees Spider-Man as more heroic. MJ relents. They all share a quiet moment of honesty. Paul awkwardly tries a handshake. It fails, but they all laugh. They leave as peter stays waiting for phil and a lift home


Peter asks Phil if Liam will make it.


"He will," Phil replies. "But it was close."


They both get in Phil's car. The silence is deafening. 2 friends who's years apart meant they are reforming their connection. The silence is intercut by Phil acknowledging the the arrests and peter hoping to break a cycle says with matter of fact
"Im Spider-Man"
The car remains silent with Phil only giving a nod in response. He didn't know. But now it makes sense. And to him. It only makes him appreciate both Peter and Spider-Man more


The Final Days Montage


The dust of battle has settled. The mask remains hidden for now. But in the wake of fire, trauma, and near collapse, a quieter transformation begins--subtle but powerful. As David Bowie's "Heroes" gently begins to play, the city exhales, and life begins to move forward, one fragile moment at a time.


Peter Parker wakes not in agony or dread, but to a new rhythm. The alarm clock chimes. He stretches, sighs, and opens the window. The skyline is still fractured, still scorched with the remnants of battles both literal and emotional--but the morning feels clearer. With calm determination, Peter suits up--not as Spider-Man, but as himself. A professor. A father. A man who has walked through fire and is still standing.


Across the city, change quietly pulses through the lives of those connected by web, blood, and fate. Mary Jane Watson, once trapped between her past and present, watches from the shadows of a studio set as Quentin Beck--formerly the disgraced filmmaker, cancer survivor, and podcast burnout--auditions for a role in her client's film. He's rusty. Nervous. But raw. Vulnerable. Human. The client casts him on the spot. Finally, Mary Jane's most annoying client is happy with the actor with her agency. Something about his performance feels right. Maybe he won't be a cautionary tale. Maybe he'll be her breakout star.


Paul Radin, the man who picked up the pieces of MJ's life when Peter let go, receives news of his promotion. He stands in his new office, stunned. The weight of expectations, parenting, and marriage to a legacy woman has not broken him--it has forged him. In a quiet act of mutual respect, he looks at a framed photo of Annie and Belle and nods to himself. Outside in the construction yards, stunned silence falls over the crews. News footage plays on a portable TV. A still jack fills the screen, giving his account on Silvermane.


Meanwhile, redemption finds unlikely recipients. The Pickpocket, who once stole Peter's phone on a morning train, now walks through the halls of NYU in a janitor's uniform. The Dean greets him cordially. "Stanley's job isn't easy," he says. "But I believe in second chances." The man nods. No clever words. Just silent gratitude.


Annie-May Parker walks with purpose down the school corridor. She stops in front of Davida Kirby, the once-estranged friend who never stopped watching over her. Annie lowers her voice and asks her to teach her to skate properly. Davida's eyes shine. They join hands. As they walk past Meredith and her toxic clique, the girls both throw up a bold "F.U." gesture--half rebellion, half rebirth, Wesley sits by whispers. A police officer walks beside a teacher, who nods toward him discreetly. The officer approaches. Wesley's face drops. Other students fall silent. The moment lingers--not one of spectacle, but reckoning.


On campus, Peter finds his moment. As students file out of Silver Sabilina's lecture, he waits by the door, palms sweating. He catches her eye and asks, simply, awkwardly, earnestly--"Would you like to go on a date with me?" She stares for a second, blinking. Then smiles. "Yes." they kiss--a gesture not of infatuation, but understanding.


Belle, now braver, walks with Courtney, laughter finally returning to their voices. When Fabian tries to tease them, Belle doesn't flinch. She walks straight up to him, staring him down, daring him to say more. He backs away, words caught in his throat. Belle smiles and turns to sign up for the school play--Macbeth. A tragic tale, but also one of ambition, consequence, and reclaiming voice.


In the quad, Grady Scraps pulls Peter aside. "Wait a second," he says, grinning. Yukio Tazumi walks by, camera in hand. Grady drops to one knee. Yukio gasps. A beat. Then tears. She says yes. Students around them cheer. Peter watches, eyes moist, as Andrew, another student, Yukio's ex, leans on him. "I'll never find anyone," he says. Peter replies gently, "Love comes. Love goes. You'll find someone who sees you."


Phil Urich, steadfast and faithful, pulls up outside the school. Belle hops into the passenger seat. He ruffles her hair, throws her a wink, and drives her to Paul's. The broken parts of their extended family are slowly, softly beginning to mend.


On the sidewalk, Annie clings to Davida's shoulders as they skateboard together, laughter echoing through the street. Just a week ago, Annie was a mess of bruised emotions. Now, her healing is in motion.


Peter stands on the roof, he puts his mask on swings through the city.


And still--one last montage unfolds from the other side.


Montana, imprisoned, draws cows in the dirt--slow, focused. A reflection of simpler days.


Hammerhead, seated in a padded chair, stares at the cracked mirror. The metal in his skull glints. He touches it, no longer in denial about what he's become.


Fancy Dan, silent in his cell, presses his palm against the glass, watching his son and ex outside. His face cracks with longing.


Patricia Weele enters Liam's hospital room, a lawyer trailing her--revealed through lip movement to be Foggy Nelson. Pat sits by her son's side. His eyes flutter. He wakes.


Ox, alone in an observation room, slouches on a bench. The door opens. In walk two elderly people--his parents. His breath catches.


"...Mom? Dad?" he whispers. And they nod.


Finally, the camera returns to Peter.


He's home. On time. Dressed. Present. He opens the door and finds Annie and Belle waiting. They hug him. They all sit on the sofa. The world turns. The city breathes. Music plays.


Then silence. The music builds


Annie, in her room, scrolls her phone. She leans back.


Her body sticks to the wall.


She frowns, confused. Tries to move.


Can't.


The music get more intense.


She groans, rolls--and dangles from the ceiling.


Panic creeps into her voice.


The music loudens muffling Annie's screams.


"Dad! DAD!"


Peter runs in, looks up.


His daughter.


Stuck to the ceiling.


What should wonder in his eyes is replaced by dread.


The last four words, echoing like a distant promise:


> "We could be heroes."


Cuts to black


Credits roll.




? Post-Credit Scene


The screen fades from black into darkness--not the kind that comes with nightfall, but the kind that hums. A clinical, humming dark. Cold light gradually reveals a hallway of brushed metal and reinforced glass, lined with biometric locks and heavy surveillance nodes. A secure subterranean facility, deeper and quieter than any prison. No guards in sight. Just silence, electricity, and steel.


Peter Parker walks this hallway alone, dressed not in his Spider-Man suit but in plain, utilitarian clothes. He carries a plastic container--nutritional supplements, reading material, and sanitary items. A monthly ritual, one he performs with precision and little emotion. When he reaches the final door, he stops. A brief pause. He inhales, then places his palm on the security scanner.


Click.


The blast door hisses and separates.


Inside sits a man.


In the center of a minimalist cell, surrounded by books, medical equipment, and scribbled notes pinned to the walls, sits Gabriel Joshua--a face both hauntingly familiar and achingly tragic. He looks like a man in his late thirties but older in his eyes. His skin is pale, his voice calm, controlled. His features resemble Peter's friends from a lifetime ago. He was once one of them. A member of the New York 6. A man of science. A brother in arms.


Now he is something else entirely.


Gabriel looks up with an unnerving smile. His demeanor is pleasant, even friendly. But the weight behind his stare is unmistakable--danger disguised as civility.


> "hello, Peter?" he says with a gentle, measured tone.






Peter doesn't respond. He simply places the container on the floor just inside the containment threshold. The door remains open behind him, but he doesn't step further in. Not anymore.


Gabriel continues.


> "Still doing this routine? The man with the mask bringing groceries to the monster?"






Peter meets his eyes, silent but composed. His body language is cold--less out of hatred and more out of history. This is not a man he argues with. Not anymore.


Gabriel chuckles lightly, standing just behind the glass. His hands never touch it, but his presence presses against the invisible barrier with intensity. He peers into Peter's soul.


> "You wore the mask again," he says, voice like silk over razor blades.
"I felt it. In my dreams. In the air. In them. You're back."






Peter clenches his jaw. Still, he says nothing.


Then, Gabriel's smile widens--twists.


And for a split second, his face shifts.


It happens fast. A flicker. But Peter sees it.


Kindred.


The demonic visage that once tore through Times Square. That slaughtered innocents and haunted Peter's soul on 5/5. It flashes before him--its pale mask, segmented face, eyes filled with bottomless void and righteous wrath.


Gabriel's face returns, as if nothing happened. As if the devil hadn't just looked him in the eye.


Peter stiffens. His breath sharpens--not in fear, but in exhaustion. Disappointment. The same way a man looks at a burning house he's already rebuilt three times.


Gabriel leans his head. His final words are nearly a whisper:


> "We were never finished, Peter. You know that."






Peter steps back. Without a word, he activates the lock again. The door begins to hiss closed. As it seals, the last thing Peter sees is Gabriel's grin slowly fading into something more quiet--more intimate. Not gloating. Not furious. Just...waiting.


The door slams shut with a hydraulic thud.


Peter stands on the other side, staring for a moment at the blank metal.


Then, he turns.


And walks away.




---


Fade to black.


The story may have ended--but the shadow of Kindred still lingers.