Y/N slouched in his chair, the crisp uniform feeling like a straitjacket. The room buzzed with the muted sounds of students diligently working on their tests, but his paper remained untouched. He glanced around, catching sight of Gwen, focused and absorbed. A pang of guilt washed over him, but he quickly shook it off.

I don't belong here, he thought.

He picked up his pen, contemplating how to purposefully fail the test. Maybe an essay filled with nonsense? A multiple-choice answer sheet left blank? Before he could decide, his teacher, Mr. Thompson, a tall man with a stern but kind face, approached his desk.

"Y/N," Mr. Parker said, folding his arms. "Why haven't you started your test?"

Y/N shrugged, feigning indifference. "I guess I forgot to study," he muttered.

Mr. Parker raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You're one of the brightest students here. This isn't like you."

Y/N avoided his gaze, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I don't want to be here."

Mr. Parker sighed, pulling up a chair to sit beside Y/N. "Do you think your parents sacrificed so much for you to give up like this?"

Y/N flinched, the words hitting harder than he expected. "They forced me into this," he retorted. "I didn't have a choice."

"They love you and want what's best for you," Mr. Parker countered. "They believe in your potential, just like I do. Brooklyn Visions is a chance for you to shine, to make something of yourself."

Y/N clenched his fists under the desk. "The only reason I'm even tolerating this place is because Gwen and Miles are here. That's it."

Mr. Parker studied him for a moment, then leaned forward. "Have you thought about living on campus? Sometimes being fully immersed in the environment can make a difference."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "No way. I'm not leaving my mom alone."

Mr. Parker nodded, understanding. "I see. But running away from challenges isn't the answer, Y/N. You're better than this."

"Maybe I don't want to be better," Y/N snapped, his voice low but intense.

Mr. Parker sighed again. "Alright. You can go, but think about what I said. This isn't just about your parents. It's about you."

Y/N stood up, grabbing his bag. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, heading for the door.

As he walked out of the classroom, he felt a mix of anger and confusion. He knew Mr. Parker was right, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. He needed to talk to Gwen and Miles, the only people who understood him.

🕷️

Jacob worked late into the night, the sterile lab illuminated by the cold, artificial light overhead. The blueprints for Gargan's exoskeleton, ominously titled "Scorpion Project," lay spread across his workbench. The design was intricate, with armor padding and a menacing tail that would make any opponent think twice.

A/N: Credits to the illustrator!

The door to the lab swung open, and Macdonald Gargan stomped in, his impatience palpable. "How much longer is this going to take?" he growled, his eyes narrowing at Jacob.

"Mr. Gargan, these things take time," Jacob replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He was used to dealing with impatient clients, but Gargan's demeanor was particularly unsettling.

Norman Osborn entered the lab, his presence immediately commanding attention. He walked with a calculated calm, his eyes flicking between Jacob and Gargan.

"Mr. Gargan," Norman said smoothly, "I understand your impatience, but these things require precision. We can't afford any mistakes, can we, Jacob?"

Jacob nodded, his jaw clenched. "That's right. Look at what happened with Herman Schultz. His wrist gauntlets malfunctioned because we rushed the process. We can't have a repeat of that."

Norman's smile was thin, almost serpentine. "Ah, yes, the Shocker incident. Unfortunate, but it taught us valuable lessons. Lessons that will ensure the success of your project, Mr. Gargan."

Gargan's impatience was palpable. "I don't care about lessons. I care about results. And I want 'em now."

Norman stepped closer to Jacob, placing a hand on his shoulder in what seemed like a reassuring gesture but felt more like a vice. "Jacob, I know you're hesitant, but we have to move forward. Think of Jessica and Y/N. This project could provide the stability and security your family needs."

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Don't bring my family into this, Norman."

Norman's expression remained unchanged, his tone deceptively gentle. "I'm only reminding you of what's at stake. We all want what's best for our families, don't we?"

Jacob clenched his fists, fighting to keep his composure. "I won't let you use them as leverage."

Norman's smile turned sinister. "I would never dream of it. But it's worth considering the broader picture. For everyone's sake."

Jacob sighed, the weight of his predicament pressing down on him. "I'll do what I can. But this isn't something that can be rushed."

Gargan, clearly fed up with the exchange, slammed his hand on the armrest. "Enough talk. When will this be ready?"

Jacob took a deep breath, turning back to his work. "A few more days, if I can keep up this pace."

Norman clapped Gargan on the shoulder. "See, Mr. Gargan? We're nearly there. Jacob here is the best at what he does. We just need to trust the process."

As Jacob resumed his work, his mind raced. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the edge of a precipice, with his family hanging in the balance. The pressure from Norman and the impatience of Gargan only made the task more daunting.

But to him, this seemed like no choice.

🕷️

Tonight, the Prowler was on a mission. His target: Ock 8, a massive megacorp founded by the notorious Dr. Otto Octavius.

Octavius, a brilliant yet morally bankrupt scientist, had transformed his company into a technological behemoth. Known for his mechanical tentacles, which he controlled with deadly precision, Otto was also a key member of the Sinister Six cartel, a syndicate that spread its criminal tendrils across the city.

Miles moved like a ghost through the corridors of Ock 8. His black and purple suit blended seamlessly with the shadows, and his clawed gauntlets glinted menacingly under the dim lights. The plan was simple: break in, steal the high-tech parts he needed, and get out without a trace.

As he approached the storage room, his path was blocked by two heavily armed enforcers, both loyal to Octavius. They were brutish figures, exuding an air of intimidation that would make most people cower.

"Hey, who the hell are you supposed to be?" one enforcer demanded.

"I'm nobody you need to worry about," Miles replied coolly.

The second enforcer laughed, brandishing his weapon. "You picked the wrong place to mess with, kid."

Miles' eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Let's see about that."

Without warning, Miles launched himself at the enforcers. His gauntlets flashed in the low light as he delivered precise, bone-crunching blows. The first enforcer went down with a swift strike to the jaw, crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.

The second enforcer swung his weapon, but Miles was too fast. He ducked under the attack, driving his knee into the enforcer's stomach and following it with a brutal uppercut. The enforcer staggered back, his helmet cracked, but managed to raise his weapon again.

Miles disarmed him with a fluid motion, the weapon clattering to the floor. The enforcer tried to throw a desperate punch, but Miles caught his fist mid-air and twisted, forcing the man to his knees.

"What do you want? Why are you here?" the enforcer gasped.

"Just here for some parts. Nothing personal," Miles said, delivering a final blow that knocked the enforcer unconscious.

Miles quickly gathered the high-tech components he came for and made his way out. As he ascended into the night with his grappling hook, he couldn't help but reflect on the path he had chosen. He was neither a hero nor a villain—just someone trying to survive in a city that had long since lost its way.

And try to avenge Jeff as best he could.

🕷️

Y/N was walking home after a long day at school.

He had tried to get himself expelled again, and to no avail. It's like the teachers at Visions knew what he was trying to do, and won't let him do it. They constantly reminded him about his father, and what he was like at Visions.

He hated being compared to his Dad, or his Mom. He loved his parents dearly, but the comparisons were getting old.

And quite annoying.

He wasn't his parents, and it's about time someone got that.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows on the streets of Queens. Crime was rampant in the city, and Y/N knew that it wasn't easy living where he did, so he had to take the proper precautions.

And by that, learning how to defend yourself.

As he turned a corner, he heard a woman's scream echo from a dark alley. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards the sound, finding two men harassing a woman. Y/N didn't think twice; he jumped into the fray, fists flying.

"Get away from her!" Y/N shouted, landing a punch on the nearest assailant.

The robbers, taken aback by the sudden attack, quickly regrouped. They were bigger and stronger, but Y/N was fast and determined. He dodged their blows and struck back with everything he had. The fight was brutal, and Y/N took a beating, but he managed to knock them out one by one.

"Are you okay?" he asked the woman, breathing heavily and wiping blood from his split lip.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, her voice trembling. "Thank you so much."

Y/N nodded, watching as she ran off into the night. He staggered home, every step a reminder of the pain coursing through his body. When he finally reached his apartment Jessica, was waiting for him.

"Y/N! What happened to you?" she exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"I... I got into a fight," he admitted, wincing as she examined his bruises.

"A fight? Why would you do something so reckless?" Jessica scolded, her voice a mix of anger and worry. "You could have been seriously hurt, or worse."

"I was just trying to help," Y/N muttered. "You weren't there, Mom."

Jessica sighed. "I know you want to do the right thing, but you can't keep putting yourself in danger like this."

"I just... I hate how things are here," Y/N said, his frustration evident.

Jessica hugged him tightly. "I understand. But you need to be careful. I can't lose you too."

Y/N shook his head, the weight of his experiences bearing down on him. "It's not just about me. Dad's gone all the time, and I don't like Visions- I just feel like you, Gwen, and Miles are the only people I have."

Jessica's expression turned pained at the mention of Jacob. "I know. Your father... he's been so consumed with his work. But he loves you, Y/N. We both do. We just want to protect you."

Y/N's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as he met Jessica's eyes. "I'm tired of feeling like this," he confessed. "So—-helpless."

Jessica hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around him with a desperate need to shield him from the harshness of the world. "I understand, sweetheart. But you need to be careful. I can't lose you too."

Y/N leaned into her embrace, seeking solace in her presence. "I'm tired of all the changes, Mom. I miss how things used to be."

Jessica squeezed him tighter, her heart aching for her son's struggles. "I know, baby. But change is a part of life. We just have to find a way to navigate through it together."

Y/N felt a lump form in his throat as he returned her embrace, the warmth of her love a stark contrast to the cold reality outside. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Jessica pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "I know you didn't. And I'm proud of you for wanting to help. But you have to promise me you'll be more careful. You and your father are all I have left."

Y/N nodded, the weight of his mother's words sinking in.

He knew they were the only ones he had too.

🕷️

The next day, Y/N walked into Brooklyn Visions Academy, still feeling the effects of the previous night's fight. As he made his way through the crowded halls, he spotted Glory Grant, a member of the Mary Janes.

"Hey, Y/N," Glory called out, waving him over.

"Hey, Glory," Y/N replied, managing a smile despite his soreness.

"We've got a concert next week. Are you coming?" Glory asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it," Y/N said. "Gwen's been hounding on me all week."

"Cool. By the way, do you know some guy named Harry? Apparently he's coming?" Glory inquired.

Y/N's smile faded slightly at the mention of Harry Osborn, his former bully from Midtown High School. "I don't know. I hope not."

"Why? What's up with you and this Harry guy?" Glory asked, curious.

"He's just... he's a jerk. And he's tried to hit on Gwen more than once," Y/N explained, his irritation evident.

"Got it. Well, if he shows up, we'll deal with him," Glory said confidently.

"Thanks, Glory," Y/N said, appreciating her support.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Y/N headed to his next period with Miles Morales and Ganke Lee. He sat down, still feeling the weight of the city on his shoulders but grateful for the friends who had his back.

Miles glanced over at him, noticing his bruises. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," Y/N replied with a wry smile.

"Man, you need to be more careful," Ganke said, shaking his head.

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I go looking for trouble. It just seems to find me."

Miles leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "I know what you did last night."

Y/N's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

Miles smirked and replied in rapid Spanish, "Tengo mis métodos. Hay un canal subterráneo de información en la escuela. Todo se sabe."

Y/N blinked, utterly lost. "I took ASL, dude. I have no idea what you just said."

Miles laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You never learned any Spanish? What the hell?"

Ganke snickered, trying to hold back his laughter. "Seriously, Y/N? We're in Brooklyn, man. Spanish is like the second language here."

Y/N rolled his eyes, a small grin creeping onto his face. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll add it to my list of things to do."

🕷️

Jacob stood in his dimly lit workshop, the hum of machinery and the sharp scent of metal filling the air. The scorpion suit was almost complete, its sleek, menacing form standing on the workbench like a predatory beast poised to strike. Unlike any other secret projects he had done for Osborn, this one gnawed at his conscience, a persistent guilt that he couldn't shake.

The suit was a marvel of engineering, designed for both agility and power. The exoskeleton, crafted from a lightweight but incredibly durable alloy, gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Its dark green and black colors blended seamlessly, giving it a stealthy appearance that would be nearly invisible in the shadows.

The helmet was angular and intimidating, with a visor that resembled the sharp, segmented eyes of a scorpion. Advanced optics and targeting systems were built into it, allowing the wearer to see in various spectrums and lock onto targets with precision. Ventilation slits ran along the sides, ensuring the helmet remained cool even in the heat of battle.

The suit's most distinctive feature was its tail—a long, segmented appendage that extended from the back. Made of the same alloy as the exoskeleton, it was flexible yet incredibly strong, capable of delivering powerful blows or injecting a paralytic toxin stored in a hidden compartment. The tail's tip was razor-sharp, designed to pierce through armor and defenses with ease.

Articulated limbs provided enhanced strength and speed, with servomotors and hydraulics that responded instantly to the wearer's movements. Each joint was reinforced, ensuring maximum flexibility without compromising protection. The gloves were equipped with retractable claws, perfect for climbing or combat, while the boots housed thrusters for short bursts of enhanced mobility.

Jacob stepped back to admire his handiwork, but the pride he usually felt was absent. Instead, a heavy sense of dread settled in his chest. This suit wasn't just a piece of advanced technology; it was a weapon, one that could cause unimaginable harm in the wrong hands. And knowing Norman's intentions, those hands were anything but trustworthy.

He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He had done many questionable things for Oscorp over the years, but this felt different.

This felt wrong.

His mind wandered to his family, the very reason he had agreed to these secret projects in the first place. The extra money had been essential, but at what cost? He thought of Y/N and the dangers this suit could bring into their lives. The thrill he sometimes felt working on these projects had long since faded, replaced by a growing fear of what might come next.

Jacob took a deep breath and turned back to the suit. There were still a few adjustments to be made, but it was essentially finished. He knew he had to complete it, but the guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. This project was different. This project could change everything.

As he continued his work, the image of Norman Osborn's manipulative grin lingered in his mind, a reminder of the situation he now found himself in.

🕷️

Jessica L/N stood at the entrance of the F.E.A.S.T. center, the bustling energy of the community hub surrounding her. The sound of chatter, the clinking of dishes, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air. She took a deep breath, letting the sense of purpose and community wash over her. F.E.A.S.T. was more than just a shelter or a soup kitchen; it was a lifeline for so many people, a place where hope was rekindled.

She made her way through the crowd, offering smiles and nods to familiar faces. People here knew her well—she had been volunteering at F.E.A.S.T. for years, dedicating countless hours to helping those in need. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could make a tangible difference.

"Jessica!" called out Martin Li, the center's founder and director. He approached her with a warm smile. "It's always good to see you."

"Hey, Martin," Jessica replied, returning his smile. "How's everything going today?"

"Busy as usual," Martin said with a chuckle. "But we're managing. Could always use an extra pair of hands, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Jessica said, rolling up her sleeves. "Where do you need me?"

"Can you help in the kitchen? We're short-staffed, and dinner prep is behind schedule."

"Of course," Jessica said, heading toward the kitchen.

As she entered the bustling kitchen, she was greeted by the familiar faces of fellow volunteers. She quickly got to work, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, the repetitive tasks providing a sense of calm. But even as she immersed herself in the work, her mind drifted to her family.

She thought about Y/N, struggling with the changes in his life—the new school, the pressures, and his father's increasing absence. Her heart ached for her son, who was growing more distant and frustrated. She knew Jacob was wrapped up in something dangerous, something that weighed heavily on him, but she couldn't pry it out of him.

"Jessica, can you pass me the salt?" a volunteer asked, snapping her back to the present.

"Sure," she replied, handing over the container. She forced a smile, trying to focus on the task at hand.

The hours passed quickly, and soon the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of a hearty meal. Jessica and the other volunteers began serving dinner to the guests, each plate handed over with a warm smile and a kind word. This was what she loved about F.E.A.S.T.—the connection, the sense of community, and the opportunity to give back.

As she handed a plate to an elderly woman, the woman grasped her hand gently. "Thank you, dear. You always brighten my day."

Jessica smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I'm just glad I can help."

After dinner, as the crowd began to thin out, Jessica found a moment to catch her breath. She stepped outside, the cool evening air a welcome relief after the heat of the kitchen. She looked up at the sky, stars beginning to twinkle in the twilight, and allowed herself a moment of reflection.

She worried about her family, about Y/N and Jacob, and the secrets that seemed to be pulling them apart. But here, at F.E.A.S.T., she felt a glimmer of hope. This place was a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was still kindness and compassion to be found.

🕷️

The lab was bathed in a harsh, fluorescent light, casting sharp shadows across the metallic surfaces. The scorpion suit stood at the center, its menacing form gleaming ominously. Macdonald Gargan stood before it, a dangerous calm in his eyes. He looked at the suit with a mixture of anticipation and something darker—an eagerness for the power it promised.

Norman watched from the sidelines, his sharp eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Are you ready, Gargan?" he asked, his voice smooth and controlled.

Gargan gave a curt nod. "Let's get this over with."

Jacob stood nearby, his unease was palpable. He had spent countless hours perfecting this suit, but seeing it about to graft onto a living person filled him with dread. The implications of what he had created weighed heavily on him.

With a deep breath, Gargan stepped into the suit. The machinery whirred to life, panels sliding into place around his body with a series of mechanical clicks and hisses. As the suit sealed itself, Jacob activated the final sequence. The suit began to graft onto Gargan's skin, an intricate process that fused the technology seamlessly with his flesh.

Gargan's face remained impassive, betraying none of the discomfort he might have felt. Instead, he seemed to revel in the sensation, his eyes closing briefly as he adjusted to the new power coursing through him.

When the process was complete, Gargan flexed his fingers, feeling the enhanced strength in every movement. He took a few steps, the suit moving with a fluid grace that belied its menacing appearance. The tail, now an extension of his spine, swayed slightly as he moved, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"How do you feel?" Norman asked, his gaze fixed on Gargan with a keen interest.

Gargan opened his eyes, a cold, dangerous calm settled in them. "I feel... good. More powerful than ever."

Jacob swallowed hard, his unease growing. He had known this project was different, that it carried a heavier burden. But seeing Gargan in the suit, exuding a calm menace, made him realize just how dangerous this creation was.

Norman smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Excellent. We have much work to do."

Gargan turned his gaze to Jacob, who felt a chill run down his spine. "You did good work, L/N. But don't think for a second that I won't use this power to its full extent."

Jacob nodded, forcing himself to meet Gargan's gaze. "Just... be careful. The suit is powerful, but it's also unstable."

Norman's smile widened. "Don't worry, Jacob. We'll take all necessary precautions. After all, we can't afford any mistakes."

As Gargan continued to test the suit's capabilities, Jacob couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He had created something monstrous, and now it was in the hands of a man who seemed all too eager to unleash its potential.

Norman clapped a hand on Jacob's shoulder, a gesture that was far from reassuring. "You've done well, Jacob. Now let's see what our new weapon can really do."

Jacob forced a smile, but inside, he felt the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He had crossed a line.

A big one.

🕷️

N stood in the living room, pulling on his jacket and checking his phone. Jessica watched him with a gentle smile, a hint of concern in her eyes.

"You heading out, sweetie?" she asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Yeah, Mom. Gwen's got a concert tonight. Miles is coming with me," Y/N replied, giving her a quick hug.

"Have fun, but be careful, okay?" Jessica said, holding him a little longer than usual. "I worry about you."

"I will, Mom," he reassured her, pulling back to look at her. "I'll be home by curfew."

Jessica nodded, smoothing a hand over his shoulder. "Alright. Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk about anything."

Y/N managed a small smile, touched by his mom's unwavering support. "I know, Mom. Thanks."

He hesitated for a moment, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside him. "I love you, you know that?"

Jessica's eyes softened, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I love you too, sweetheart. Always."

Before their moment could linger any longer, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them. Miles bounded into the kitchen, his usual exuberance filling the room.

"Hey, Mrs. L/N!" he greeted Jessica with a bright smile, crossing the room to give her a quick hug.

Jessica returned the hug warmly, her affection for Miles evident in the way she held him close. "Hey, Miles. How are you doing?"

Miles grinned. "I'm great, thanks. Ready for the concert tonight!"

Jessica chuckled. "Sounds like fun. Just make sure you boys stay out of trouble, okay?"

Miles gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am! We'll be on our best behavior, I promise."

As he stepped outside, he saw Miles waiting for him. The two friends exchanged nods and started walking towards the subway station.

"Excited?" Miles asked, a grin on his face.

"Yeah, should be fun," Y/N replied, though his tone was less enthusiastic.

Miles noticed and raised an eyebrow. "What's up, man?"

Y/N sighed. "It's just... I heard Harry's going to be there. No one told me."

Miles looked confused. "Harry? Who's Harry?"

"Harry Osborn. He was my bully at Midtown last year. Always hitting on Gwen, thinking he's better than everyone because his dad runs Oscorp," Y/N explained, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Miles' eyes widened. "Damn, man. That sucks. Why didn't anyone tell you?"

"Good question," Y/N muttered, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk.

Miles gave him a supportive pat on the back. "Hey, if Harry tries anything, I'll kick his ass for you."

Y/N laughed, shaking his head. "Thanks, but I can handle it."

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was Gwen. He answered quickly, his tone softening. "Hey, Gwen."

Hey, Y/N. Just wanted to check if you're on your way," Gwen said, her voice cheerful but with a hint of apprehension.

"Yeah, Miles and I are heading over now," Y/N replied.

"Great! Uh, just so you know, Harry's going to be there," Gwen said cautiously.

Y/N's jaw tightened, but he tried to keep his voice neutral. "Yeah, I heard."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Gwen said quickly. "He's just a friend, nothing more."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to quell his doubts. "I get it. I trust you, Gwen. It's just... he's not exactly my favorite person."

"I understand," Gwen said softly. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah, see you soon," Y/N replied, hanging up.

Miles watched him carefully. "Everything cool?"

"Yeah," Y/N said, though his voice was less certain than he wanted it to be. "Everything's cool. Let's just get to the concert."

🕷️

Macdonald Gargan had been wearing the scorpion suit for a week now, and the transformation was more profound than he had anticipated. At first, he reveled in the power it granted him. The agility, the strength, the fear he instilled in others—it was intoxicating. He had used the suit to hunt down criminals and complete his private investigator work with brutal efficiency. But as the days passed, the euphoria began to wear off, replaced by a gnawing sense of horror.

Gargan stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building, overlooking the city he once navigated as a mere mortal. Now, he felt like a predator stalking his territory. The suit had grafted to his skin, a symbiotic relationship that he couldn't escape. He tried not to think about the fact that he hadn't taken it off since the day he put it on. Showers were a distant memory; he couldn't even scratch an itch without feeling the cold, unyielding metal of the exoskeleton.

As he leaped from building to building, he realized something was changing within him. His thoughts were darker, his actions more sadistic. The power had gone to his head, twisting his sense of morality. He no longer felt like a man; he felt like a freak of nature. A monster.

"Osborn!" he growled into the night, his voice echoing through the empty streets. He had been trying to reach Norman for days, but the man was unresponsive, leaving Gargan to grapple with his new reality alone.

He landed on another rooftop, his claws scraping against the concrete as he paced back and forth. "Damn it, Norman! You can't leave me like this!"

But there was no response. Just the distant hum of the city and the occasional siren in the background. Gargan's frustration boiled over, and he punched a nearby vent, crushing it with ease.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage that simmered within him. He needed help, and there was only one person left who might be able to do something—Jacob L/N. The man who had created this suit, this prison.

With a determined snarl, Gargan launched himself into the night, making his way toward Oscorp. He moved with terrifying grace, the suit amplifying every movement, every jump. In moments, he was at the lab where Jacob worked.

Bursting through the door, he found Jacob hunched over a workbench, surrounded by blueprints and tools. Jacob looked up, eyes widening in fear as he saw Gargan looming in the doorway.

"Gargan!" Jacob exclaimed, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?"

Gargan stalked forward, the tail of the suit swaying menacingly behind him. "You need to help me, L/N. This suit—it's driving me insane. I can't take it off, I can't even shower. And Norman won't respond to my calls."

Jacob swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I—I told you, the suit was unstable. It's not meant to be worn for prolonged periods."

"Yeah, well, no one mentioned that before I put it on!" Gargan snapped, his voice a low growl. "You have to fix this. Get me out of this thing."

Jacob hesitated, glancing at the various components and tools scattered around him. "I—I don't know if I can. The grafting process is irreversible without significant damage to your body. I warned Norman about the risks."

Gargan loomed over Jacob as he worked, his impatience growing with each passing minute. Finally, Jacob set down his tools and faced him, a grave expression on his face.

"I've run every test, checked every connection," Jacob said, his voice tense. "The suit... it's grafted to your skin, Gargan. It's not just attached—it's fused. I can't remove it without causing severe damage to your body."

Gargan's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "You're lying. You have to be able to do something. I can't stay like this!"

"I thought you knew the risks!" Jacob shot back, his own frustration mounting. "I warned Norman about the instability, about the potential for permanent bonding. There was always a chance this could happen."

Gargan's face twisted with fury, and he lashed out, his tail smashing through a nearby workbench, scattering tools and blueprints across the floor. "This is your fault, L/N! You did this to me!"

Jacob took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. "I tried to warn you both. This suit was never meant to be used like this!"

Gargan advanced on Jacob, his voice a low growl. "You're going to find a way to fix this, or I'll make your life a living hell."

Jacob held his ground, though his fear was palpable. "There's nothing I can do. The suit is a part of you now."

Gargan's eyes glinted with malice, and a slow, sinister smile spread across his face. "Maybe I'll pay a visit to your wife. What's her name again? Jessica, right?"

Jacob's blood ran cold, and he stepped forward, his voice shaking with anger and fear. "Don't you dare touch her."

Gargan laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "And what are you going to do about it, L/N? Stop me?"

With a swift motion, Gargan knocked Jacob back with the tail of his suit, sending him crashing into a stack of equipment. "You can't do anything," Gargan sneered, turning to leave. "But I'll make sure she knows you tried."

Panicked and determined, Jacob scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He had to protect Jessica and Y/N. He couldn't let Gargan get to them.

He bolted out of the lab, ignoring the destruction Gargan had left in his wake, and ran to his car. His hands shook as he fumbled for his keys, finally getting the car started and tearing out of the parking lot.

🕷️

Y/N and Miles arrived at Midtown High School, the familiar sight of the school bringing a mix of nostalgia and anxiety. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as they made their way through the crowd gathered for the concert. The bustling hallways, the excited chatter of students—everything felt both familiar and distant since he transferred to Visions Academy.

As they walked towards the auditorium, Y/N's eyes scanned the crowd. His heart sank when he spotted Harry Osborn and Ned Leeds standing by the entrance, both wearing their usual smug expressions. Harry's eyes locked onto Y/N, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't Y/N," Harry drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "Back to grace us with your presence?"

Ned snickered beside him, adding, "Guess they finally realized you're not cut out for Visions, huh?"

Y/N clenched his fists, trying to keep his cool. "I'm here for the concert, Harry. That's all."

Miles, sensing the tension, gave Harry a once-over, unimpressed. "Nice to meet you too," he said sarcastically, folding his arms.

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking Miles up and down. "And who might you be? Another charity case from Brooklyn?"

Miles' eyes flashed with anger, but he held his ground. "I'm Miles. And I'm here to support Gwen, like Y/N."

Harry scoffed, clearly uninterested. "Right. Well, try not to embarrass yourselves."

Before the situation could escalate, Gwen appeared, her presence like a soothing balm. She smiled brightly at Y/N and Miles, then leaned in to give Y/N a quick kiss. "Hey, you guys made it!"

Harry watched the exchange with thinly veiled contempt. As Gwen turned to adjust something with her band equipment, Harry took a step closer to Y/N, his voice low and taunting. "You sure she's with you? She looks pretty friendly with everyone."

Y/N's fists clenched, but he kept his cool. "She's with me, Harry. Always has been, always will be."

Gwen returned just in time to miss Harry's smirk. "I'm glad you're here, Y/N. It means a lot."

Y/N smiled back at her, but the interaction with Harry left a sour taste in his mouth. He wanted to confront Harry, to put him in his place, but he knew it wasn't the right time. Gwen needed his support, not his anger.

Harry, ever the master of deception, put on a fake smile. "Good luck with the concert, Gwen. I'm sure you'll be great."

"Thanks, Harry," Gwen replied, oblivious to his true intentions.

Miles placed a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder as they found their seats. "Don't let him get to you, man. He's just trying to mess with you."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering frustration. "Yeah, I know. It's just... he never changes."