[Marvel : Spoiling Spider-man] Chapter 171 - 175

Chapter 171: Harry’s Rebirth

[In the elevator, Gwen was still catching her breath when a voice suddenly startled her from behind: "Gwen Stacy!"]

["Oh…!!!" Gwen gasped, whipping around to see Harry Osborn, his hand pressed against his chest as if his heart might leap out.]

["Sorry!" they both blurted out at the same time, exchanging awkward smiles before Gwen added, "It’s okay!"]

["Uh, I’m Harry. Harry Osborn," he introduced himself with a small grin. "I’m an old friend of Peter’s."]

["Yeah, I know who you are," Gwen replied, her heart rate finally slowing. "Sorry, I was just... a little rushed back there."]

["It’s okay," Harry chuckled. "What a shame Peter didn’t introduce us properly. I thought you two had broken up."]

[At Harry’s words, Gwen’s smile faded slightly. "Oh... yeah. We did." She forced a small laugh, though it sounded hollow. "It’s complicated."]

["It’s always complicated when it comes to Peter," Harry added with a knowing grin.]

["Yeah, you’re right about that," Gwen sighed, her thoughts drifting to Peter’s latest dilemma.]

["That’s why he needs you, doesn’t he?" Harry said, his gaze sharpening slightly. "To help him make the right choice."]

[Before Gwen could respond, the elevator dinged, signaling her floor. She gave Harry an apologetic smile. "Nice to meet you, Harry."]

["The pleasure’s mine, Gwen," Harry replied, watching as she stepped out of the elevator. Left alone, his mind swirled with uncertainty. Would Peter find Spider-Man in time? And if he did… would Spider-Man actually help him?]

Later that day, Peter, Gwen, and Dr. Connors arrived at Harry’s office. Harry’s eyes widened when he saw them, especially the small glowing vial Peter held in his hand.

Felicia had informed him that they wanted to meet, but seeing Peter with the potion confirmed what Harry hoped for—Peter had made a deal with The Screen.

"Peter… what kind of deal did you make with The Screen?" Harry’s voice trembled. A lump formed in his throat, and he felt an unexpected sting of tears. The idea that Peter would bargain with something so powerful, just to save him, was overwhelming.

"Don’t ask too many questions, Harry," Peter said firmly. "Just inject this. It’ll cure your genetic disease. You’ll be free from it—and so will your descendants. This ends with you."

Harry’s eyes searched Peter’s face, but Peter’s expression revealed nothing more. Truthfully, Peter didn’t know what The Screen would ask of him in return. He could only pray that it wouldn’t be something terrible. But if it was, he’d face it. As long as Harry could live, Peter would accept whatever came his way.

Without another word, Peter injected the glowing serum into Harry’s arm. As soon as the liquid entered his bloodstream, the empty vial disintegrated into white light and vanished into thin air.

Everyone stared in shock, except Gwen, who remained calm. She had seen something similar happen when the spider bit her. Dr. Connors, however, couldn’t hide his disappointment. If only the vial had remained, he might’ve been able to extract residual samples.

"Harry, how do you feel?" Peter asked, his voice tight with concern. Harry’s face flushed as heat coursed through his body. He swayed slightly, and Peter quickly guided him into a chair.

"Oh… this feeling..." Harry murmured, flexing his fingers. His right hand, which had been trembling for years, suddenly stilled. A surge of strength pulsed through him, radiating from his core.

"Peter," he whispered, his eyes wide with awe. "I feel better than I ever have!" Grinning, he clenched his fists and, to everyone’s shock, effortlessly lifted the heavy table in front of him with just one hand.

"Wow!" Peter exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "Harry… you’re stronger?" His mind flashed to Harry in the first generation Spider-Man universe. Could The Screen have given Harry the same type of serum?

"Yeah," Harry nodded, feeling the newfound power humming through his veins. Overcome with emotion, he stepped forward and wrapped Peter in a tight hug. "Thank you, brother."

[The scene shifted to Ravencroft Mental Institution. In a sterile, dimly lit room, a man in a white coat adjusted his glasses and slipped on a pair of specialized gloves. Dr. Kafka moved toward a large, humming machine as soothing classical music played softly in the background.]

[The machine lifted, revealing Max Dillon strapped tightly to it, his body restrained by thick metal cuffs. Dr. Kafka ascended a small platform, while a staff member wheeled Max closer to the center of the room.]

[Max’s eyelids fluttered open, and he groaned softly. Kafka typed commands into a computer nearby, speaking in a calm, almost condescending tone. "You’ve had quite the accident, Mr. Dillon. I’m Dr. Kafka, and I’m here to help you."]

["Is that right, Doctor?" Max sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that why you strapped me down with military-grade bio-stimulation electrodes? And high-strength capacitors from the Austen Group? You’re really trying to help me?" His eyes flickered with contempt as he strained against the restraints.]

["You’re right," Kafka admitted with a thin smile. "I’m studying you. I want to understand who you are—and how you became this way. I will find the answer."

[Without further warning, Kafka pressed a button on the control panel. A surge of electricity crackled through the room, sending volts of pain through Max’s body. His scream echoed off the walls, but Kafka remained unfazed, his eyes glued to the monitor.]

[McCann, standing in the corner, watched with detached interest as Kafka continued his experiment.]

["I always find the answer," Kafka whispered, almost to himself.]

["You know this prison uses electricity to hold me, right?" Max hissed, his body trembling from the current. "I can feel the power running through this place, like it’s flowing in my veins. You can’t control what you’re doing now, Doctor. This is the power of nature—the same power that flows through me."]

[Kafka glanced down at a pen rolling across the table under the influence of Max’s electromagnetic field. With a smug smile, he pressed the pen down and flipped the switch again, sending another wave of electricity through Max’s body.]

[Max’s groan grew into a roar, his eyes glowing with fury. "You want to know how powerful I am? I want to know too!" he bellowed, his voice filled with venomous promise.]

[Kafka pretended to flinch but kept his finger on the trigger. Max’s anger surged, the energy within him building to a dangerous level.]

["You’d better kill me this time, Doctor!" Max threatened through gritted teeth. "Because if I survive, I’ll turn off every light in New York. I’ll plunge this city into darkness. Then everyone will know what it’s like to live in my world!"]

["A world without electricity! A world without kindness! A world without Spider-Man! Then they’ll finally recognize the real me!"]

[As Max’s rage reached its peak, red energy began to crackle beneath his blue skin, pulsing like molten lava. McCann glanced nervously at the rising energy levels on the monitor.]

["Who are you?" Kafka asked, his curiosity piqued as the data spiked beyond expected limits.]

["Don’t you know?" Max snarled, his voice reverberating with raw power. "I’m ELECTRO!"]

[At that moment, a surge of electricity exploded from Max’s body, sending shockwaves through the room. Cracks spider-webbed across Kafka’s glasses as the lights flickered violently. McCann narrowed his eyes, realizing the situation was spiraling out of control.]

[An alarm blared through the facility. "WARNING: POWER RESTRAINT OVERLOAD. IMMEDIATE CONTAINMENT REQUIRED!" The automated voice echoed as McCann snapped his fingers, signaling the staff to act quickly.]

[The guards scrambled to seal Max back into his water chamber, the only thing capable of containing his volatile energy.]

["Incredible," Kafka murmured, removing his cracked glasses and staring at Max with fascination. "Simply incredible."]

["Seal the subject!" McCann barked. The mechanical arms of the chamber clamped down on Max, dragging him back toward the water. Despite his best efforts to resist, Max could only watch helplessly as he was submerged, the blue glow of his eyes dimming beneath the surface.]

Chapter 172: The Truth Unveiled by Aunt May

"Very powerful... this Electro," Tony muttered, his eyes fixed on Max as The Screen showed his electrifying rampage. "If it weren’t for the water conducting the current in his body, those high-capacity capacitors wouldn’t have held him for long."

"Yeah," Banner nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. "But I’m more curious about what kind of deal Peter Parker made with The Screen. That’s the part that’s really bugging me."

"Who knows?" Tony shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "We still don’t even know what The Screen is. No point overthinking it. That’s second-gen Peter Parker’s problem, not ours."

While Tony and Banner shifted their focus back to their projects—improving the Mark armor series and researching the Cosmic Cube—Peter’s fate weighed heavily on their minds. Dr. Erik Selvig continued to study the Cube, with Tony and Banner occasionally lending a hand, pushing progress forward steadily.

Meanwhile, the first-generation Spider-Man had his own thoughts about Peter’s mysterious deal. But how could he possibly know something that his second-generation counterpart didn’t? After a while, he pushed the thought aside, focusing on his own battles.

On the other hand, Uncle Ben and Captain George Stacy from Peter’s world were deeply concerned. They each called Peter, worried about what he’d gotten himself into. Peter reassured them both, explaining what had happened and asking them not to worry.

But despite his words, neither Uncle Ben nor George could shake the fear that The Screen might ask Peter to do something dangerous—maybe even illegal.

["Aunt May?" Peter called out as he entered their small apartment. The house was quiet. Too quiet. He walked toward his room, but as he pushed open the door, he froze in his tracks.]

[Aunt May was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the clue wall plastered across his bedroom wall. Photos, articles, and notes were pinned everywhere, connecting strings that painted a chaotic web of conspiracy and mystery.]

["What are you doing?" Peter asked, stepping inside, his voice a mix of confusion and caution.]

[Aunt May turned to him slowly, her expression unreadable. "When did you do all this?" she asked quietly, her voice laced with something between sadness and frustration.]

[Peter hesitated. For a moment, he considered brushing it off—but then he sighed and decided it was time to confront the elephant in the room.]

["You didn’t tell me something, Aunt May," Peter said softly, his eyes locking onto hers. "Whenever I bring up my parents, you lower your head. You’ve got to be hiding something from me."]

[Aunt May’s gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. A deep sadness filled the room.]

["You lied to me," Peter pressed, his voice shaking. "I know you love me. I know you do. But you still lied to me."]

["I didn’t lie to you!" Aunt May shot back, finally lifting her head. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice was firm.]

["Aunt May... Aunt May, please." Peter crouched down in front of her, his heart pounding in his chest. "You have to tell me. That’s my father we’re talking about."]

[Her composure cracked. "Yes!" Aunt May snapped, her voice rising with emotion. "He is your father. But he still left you... here!"]

["Tell me the truth," Peter whispered, his voice breaking. He wasn’t sure he could handle what she was about to say, but he needed to hear it anyway.]

[“The truth is..." Aunt May began, her voice trembling, "Your parents left you here. On our doorstep. You were just a kid. They abandoned you without a single explanation!"]

[Her words hit Peter like a punch to the gut.]

["Uncle Ben and I did everything we could to take care of you. Who else was there for you? Who else cared about you? Protected you? Worried about you?" Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her face. "Your father? No!" She pointed at herself, her voice shaking with emotion. "I wiped your nose when you were sick. I reminded you to brush your teeth, helped you with your homework, washed your clothes—everything!"]

[Aunt May’s sudden outburst left Peter stunned. He staggered backward, his mind reeling. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.]

["It’s me, your stupid old aunt!" Aunt May continued, her voice rising. "I don’t understand science! I can barely make ends meet! I have to take nursing classes with kids half my age just to keep up with your college tuition!" Her voice faltered as the memories poured out. "After Ben died… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know. But you…"]

[She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re still thinking about your perfect father. But he’s not here. He’s never been here. And no, I won’t tell you what happened to him. Because to me, you’re my child. You always have been. And I won’t hurt you with the truth."]

[Peter’s eyes welled with tears as he stepped forward. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Aunt May, pulling her into a tight hug.]

["I am your child," Peter whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re everything to me. You’ve always been enough. I just… I needed to understand. I love you, Aunt May. I always will."]

[Aunt May’s tears flowed freely now. Peter pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.]

["It’s okay," he murmured. "It’s okay. But Aunt May... I need to know. Please."]

[Aunt May searched his eyes for a long moment before finally sighing in defeat. "Okay," she whispered. "I’ll tell you everything."]

["A few days after the funeral," Aunt May began, her voice distant, as if she were reliving the memory, "two government agents came to our door. They said your father’s research—his genetic work with Norman Osborn—was valuable. They told us people were offering big money for it."]

[Peter’s heart pounded in his chest. "So he ran away with his research?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.]

["That’s what they said," Aunt May replied, shaking her head. "They called him a traitor. They claimed he betrayed his best friend. Betrayed us."]

["No…" Peter shook his head, stepping back as if the words had physically struck him. "That’s impossible. He’d never…"]

["I didn’t believe it either, Peter," Aunt May said softly. "Not at first. But I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’ve gone over it in my mind a thousand times. He was so ordinary, so humble."]

[Her voice trembled as she continued. "He wore that same white lab coat for twenty years. Took the D train to work every day at 7 a.m., came home at 6 p.m. on the dot. But maybe…" She paused, her eyes distant. "Maybe everyone hides a part of themselves. Even from the people they love."]

[Peter’s world felt like it was crumbling. The father he had idolized, the man he’d believed in… could it all have been a lie? He paced the room, his mind spinning.]

["Peter…" Aunt May called his name, but it was like he couldn’t hear her. The weight of the truth—or what he thought was the truth—pressed down on him, suffocating.]

"OMG! No way! Richard Parker was a traitor???" a man shouted from the audience watching The Screen unfold.

"Are you an idiot?" another man snapped, rolling his eyes. "Did you even watch the beginning of the video? It’s clear Richard didn’t run away for money."

The debate rippled through the crowd, dividing opinions. Some believed the FBI’s claims, while others insisted Richard Parker had been framed. The public demanded answers, pushing the FBI into a corner. The agency was already under fire after Dr. Connors’ death, and now this scandal threatened to expose even more corruption.

The FBI director found himself caught in a whirlwind of public outrage. He wasn’t just facing backlash from the people—he had to answer to the White House, too. And the president? He was one of Spider-Man’s biggest fans.

For years, the president had posted about Spider-Man’s heroics on social media, using the beloved web-slinger’s popularity to bolster his approval ratings. But now, with the public questioning Richard Parker’s integrity, even the president might not be able to spin this one in his favor.

Chapter 173: Spider-Man Refuses Harry

["Mr. Osborn!" In the Oscorp building, a sudden shout startled Harry awake from where he was lying on the sofa. He shook his groggy head, scanning the room, but saw no one.]

["Look up!" Peter's voice echoed, and Harry immediately tilted his head upward.]

[Descending gracefully from the ceiling on a web, Peter—clad in his Spider-Man suit—landed softly on a chair. "Were you looking for me?" he asked, his voice calm and steady.]

[Harry's eyes widened with disbelief and excitement. "This is unbelievable... Spider-Man!" Despite his bloodshot eyes from a restless night, his face lit up with joy at the sight.]

["I was hoping you'd come!" Harry exclaimed, rising from the sofa to sit in the chair beside Peter. As he poured himself a drink, he added, "Have you... talked to Peter?"]

["Yeah," Peter replied, his voice altered to conceal his identity. Harry couldn’t believe Peter had actually contacted Spider-Man. He took a sip of wine, trying to suppress the surge of hope swelling in his chest.]

["I want to help you, Mr. Osborn. I really do," Peter said carefully. "But I can’t give you my blood. At least, not right now."]

["What do you mean?" Harry's confusion deepened, his hopeful expression faltering.]

["It’s too dangerous," Peter explained. "If our blood types don’t match, it could kill you."]

["I’m already dying!" Harry snapped. The infection spreading from his neck was severe. What had started as a small puncture was now an angry, festering blotch across his skin.]

["But the risks could be even worse," Peter insisted. He didn’t know the full extent of Harry’s condition, but he feared that his blood could accelerate Harry's demise.]

[Harry misread Peter’s hesitation as greed. Narrowing his eyes, he asked sharply, "Alright, how much do you want?"]

["How much?" Peter echoed, momentarily baffled.]

["Name your price! A yacht? A private jet? Just tell me! How much do you want?" Harry’s desperation dripped from every word, convinced Spider-Man was after wealth rather than genuinely concerned.]

["I don’t want your money," Peter replied firmly. The idea of trading his blood—especially when it might kill his best friend—was unthinkable.]

["Come on! Everyone wants my money!" Harry's composure shattered. He leapt from his chair, shouting. In his mind, Spider-Man's blood was his last chance at survival.]

["I don’t want it!" Peter's voice was steady, but his heart ached.]

[Harry stared at him, stunned. "I thought... I thought you were a hero. I thought you saved people in danger. Are you just going to stand there and watch me die?"]

[Peter rose from his seat, his mask hiding the pain in his eyes. "I am trying to protect you."]

[But Harry couldn’t hear him. The rejection cut deeper than the infection ravaging his body. "No! You’re not protecting me. You’re just protecting yourself!"]

["Listen, we need time to figure this out," Peter pleaded, trying to find a way to make Harry understand.]

["I don’t have time!" Harry roared, his voice raw with anguish. In a fit of rage, he hurled his wine glass across the room.]

[Peter instinctively dodged, the glass shattering against the wall behind him. A sharp shard ricocheted, slicing Harry's cheek. Clutching the wound, Harry glared at Peter, his eyes burning with betrayal.]

["I’m sorry," Peter whispered, his voice barely audible. Without another word, he leapt out of the open window, swinging away into the night.]

[Harry rushed to the window, shouting after him, but Peter was already gone. With a furious scream, Harry punched the railing, his knuckles splitting open.]

["You liar! Spider-Man!!! AHHH!" he bellowed, overturning the table in a blind fury before collapsing onto the sofa, hatred festering in his heart.]

[Outside the window, Peter lingered, hidden in the shadows. He heard every anguished sound from within. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the weight of his decision suffocating him.]

"Harry... you were right," Peter admitted quietly, sitting across from Harry in a dimly lit room. Dr. Connors was seated beside them, his expression somber.

"I ran experiments before even considering giving you my blood," Peter confessed.

"What? What did you find?" Harry’s surprise was genuine. Before Peter could elaborate, the mysterious screen flickered to life, drawing their attention.

"It was horrifying, Harry," Peter continued, his voice low. "Death was the best possible outcome. The worst... people turned into monsters. Dr. Connors can confirm that."

Connors nodded grimly. The simulations were more terrifying than his own transformation into the Lizard, as shown on the screen.

"If the experiment had worked, my arm would’ve grown back," Connors said, glancing at his missing limb with deep regret. "But it didn’t."

"There’s still hope, Doc," Peter encouraged, offering a small, reassuring smile.

"Good luck to you, Peter," Connors replied, though his tone lacked conviction. The regeneration experiment had been shelved indefinitely. His focus now was on perfecting the Decay Rate Algorithm and finding the right genetic balance. But without the opportunity to restart the experiments, all he could do was wait.

Harry touched the infected area on his neck, about to speak, when a knock at the door interrupted.

"Come in!" Harry called out.

Felicia entered gracefully, followed by several stern-looking investigators.

"Mr. Osborn, these agents have some questions regarding the spider-human experiments," Felicia explained, her tone professional.

"Just ask," Harry said, gesturing for them to proceed. He glanced at Peter, silently inviting him to stay. There were no more secrets between them.

"Spider-human experiments?" Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the words.

"I’ll explain later," Harry said quickly. "Rajit was doing things behind our backs."

One of the investigators stepped forward. "Mr. Osborn, we suspect that Rajit Ratha may not have been the only one that involve in this. We need to know—can Oscorp's files be deleted or hidden in a way that they wouldn’t appear in the system logs?"

Harry frowned. "What?"

"You have the highest authority in the company," the investigator continued. "No one can override your access without breaking the law. We need your help to check if the logs have been tampered with. If they’ve been deleted, can they be recovered?"

Chapter 174: The Final Interview

[Gwen was walking down the street, her bag slung over her shoulder, when Peter suddenly appeared behind her, swinging from a web. But instead of landing gracefully, he smacked right into a wall. "Ah!" Peter yelped, then quickly called out, "Gwen!"]

[Gwen jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Once she recovered, she greeted him with a cautious smile. Peter walked up to her, slightly rubbing his head. "Hey! I need to tell you something!"]

["I’m going to be late!" Gwen replied quickly, glancing at her watch. She didn’t have time for a chat—her interview was too important.]

["Just a few seconds! That’s all I need!" Peter insisted, trailing after her.]

["No, sorry, Peter!" Gwen said, picking up her pace. She arrived at a building draped with a British flag, but before she could enter, Peter stepped in front of her.]

["Just give me one minute, Gwen! I promise I’ll leave after that!" Peter pleaded, his voice rushed and desperate. "Everything’s a mess!"]

["My dad, my mom... everything I thought I knew about them is fake! Fake! All of it!" Peter rambled, his words tumbling out faster than he could think. He just needed someone to listen.]

["And Harry—I don’t know what to do about him! I want to save him because he’s my best friend. But what if my blood doesn’t work? What if it makes things worse? I don’t know, Gwen! I can’t think straight!"]

[Gwen listened, trying to stay patient, but she was already late. She could see how anxious Peter was, but she didn’t have time to help him sort through his thoughts.]

["There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Gwen..." Peter started, unaware of how urgent her situation was. He didn’t want her to leave for the UK without hearing him out.]

[But before he could finish, a staff member approached them. "Ms. Stacy? Shall I take you upstairs?"]

[Both Peter and Gwen turned toward the voice. Gwen quickly responded, "Yes! I’m sorry I’m late, but could you give me just one more minute?"]

[The staff member nodded politely. Peter, finally noticing the British flag hanging overhead, frowned in confusion.]

["Wait… where are we?" Peter asked, his brow furrowed.]

["I... I have to go," Gwen explained, hesitant. "This is the final interview round for Oxford University."]

["Oxford?" Peter’s heart sank. "I didn’t even know you…"]

["Oh, okay!" Peter stammered, realizing he had completely interrupted her important day. Trying to recover, he suddenly blurted, "Sorry to bother you, ma’am... Madam! Who am I? I’m Johns Hopkins! One of the youngest professors at Harvard University!" He gave an awkward, exaggerated bow.]

["I’ve been trying to recruit her for my research team. She’s the most brilliant person I know—a scientific genius! But… anyway, it’s fine! I’m sorry for the interruption…"]

[Peter backed away, cringing at his own ridiculous lie. Gwen, both embarrassed and amused, called after him. "Peter… Peter!"]

[She caught up to him quickly. "What is it? What did you want to tell me?"]

[Peter sighed, but no words came out. Gwen studied his face, reading the conflict in his expression. "Peter… I have to go to England. This is really important to me."]

[Peter pressed his lips together, nodding reluctantly but unable to find the right words.]

[Gwen’s eyes softened, but her voice was tinged with sadness. "I don’t know… Maybe we’re not on the same path anymore. You know? Maybe… we’ve drifted apart." She paused, her voice breaking slightly. "I don’t… I have to go, Peter. I just have to."]

[She turned to leave, giving him a bittersweet smile. Peter called after her one last time. When she turned around, he gave her a small, encouraging gesture. "Good luck, Gwen."]

[As Gwen followed the staff member inside, Peter stood frozen, his hands trembling at his sides. A fire burned in his chest, a mix of frustration and heartache.]

"Peter, when did you become the youngest professor at Harvard?" Uncle Ben chuckled as he watched Peter's antics from afar.

"Yeah, yeah!" Aunt May teased while sewing a new Spider-suit. "Maybe you should have a little talk with him, Ben. Get him to stop making up stories like that."

"You’re right," Uncle Ben agreed, shaking his head with a smile. "I’ll definitely talk to him when he gets back. That boy needs to drop that bad habit."

"Gwen, are you really going to Oxford?" Harry asked curiously as he fiddled with a secret key, searching for any hidden documents left behind by McCann. The investigators had already departed, heading to Ravencroft Criminal Asylum.

Harry had promised to alert them if he uncovered anything new, and with Spider-Man vouching for him, they were satisfied for now.

"I don’t know yet," Gwen admitted, shaking her head. She hadn’t received any confirmation from Oxford, and it puzzled her. Could the mysterious Screen broadcasts have influenced the admissions office's decision?

"No matter where Gwen goes, I’ll follow her!" Peter said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Gwen.

"Wow, that’s romantic! Peter, I didn’t know you had it in you!" Harry teased, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

"Yeah, well, that’s because I hadn’t met Gwen before," Peter shot back smoothly. Gwen rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

"Hahaha!" Connors laughed, watching the pair with amusement. Not wanting to endure more of their lovey-dovey display, he stood up. "Alright, I’ve had enough of this. I’ll see you guys later," he said, waving goodbye as he left Harry’s office.

[Peter returned to his room, his mind racing. Every thought of Gwen leaving for England or the truth about his father being a traitor gnawed at him. The idea of being separated from Gwen, of growing apart from her, filled him with frustration.]

[In a fit of anger, he tore down all the photos and documents from his clue wall, scattering them across the floor. The painstaking work he had done unraveling his father’s past was now in shambles.]

[Spotting the remote control resting on his briefcase, Peter grabbed it and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into pieces, and, to his surprise, a handful of coins spilled out.]

[Peter stared at the coins, realization dawning on him. Richard Parker must have hidden them for a reason.]

[He carefully poured the remaining coins into his hand, Aunt May’s words about Richard’s daily routines echoing in his mind.]

[Sitting down at his computer, Peter began searching for information about Roosevelt’s secret station. As he read through the results, he muttered to himself.]

["Line 61… a hidden extension of the D subway line in New York City. Located beneath Pershing Square. It was used to secretly transport President Franklin Roosevelt… to hide his polio."]

[Peter studied the coin in his palm, his mind racing. He was certain now—there had to be a secret base hidden by Richard Parker at Roosevelt’s station.]

Chapter 175: Secrets Unveiled

Peter, who had been chatting with Gwen, suddenly changed his expression, his brow furrowing deeply. Gwen noticed immediately, and when their eyes met, both saw the same shock reflected in each other.

"Harry! We're sorry! We have to go!" Peter shouted over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I get it! Go!" Harry nodded, fully aware of what Peter was about to do. He rushed to help, swinging the window open.

"Thanks!" Peter called out as he and Gwen leapt out the window in quick succession. They shot webs into the skyline, swinging swiftly through the city, racing towards home.

Back at the villa, Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been watching the unfolding events on the mysterious screen. The moment the scene shifted, Uncle Ben sprang into action, disassembling the remote control with practiced hands, revealing a cluster of small coins inside.

As Peter and Gwen burst through the door, Uncle Ben handed Peter one of the coins, his expression serious. "Be careful. It's probably a madhouse out there."

Peter nodded, exchanging a glance with Gwen before they dashed back out. Uncle Ben sighed heavily, unsure of what fate awaited them this time.

Meanwhile, after watching the broadcast, George Stacy realized that the screening would attract a massive crowd of Spider-Man fans to Pershing Park. Without hesitation, he dispatched police units to maintain order.

By the time Peter and Gwen arrived, they were met with a sea of police officers setting up cordons, holding back throngs of excited New Yorkers. The moment the crowd spotted the Spider couple swinging in, cheers erupted from all directions.

"Wow. Uncle Ben was right," Peter muttered, shaking his head with a smirk. He waved to the crowd before landing gracefully on the ground, immediately spotting George among the officers.

George approached, handing Peter a blueprint. "This is the layout of the square. It might help you navigate."

Peter took the blueprint gratefully. "Thanks, Dad," Gwen said, smiling warmly as she hugged her father.

George rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his grin. "Alright, alright. Now go. I’m curious to see what Richard Parker was hiding!"

"Thanks again!" Peter added before he and Gwen followed the blueprint’s instructions. It led them to the entrance of an old tunnel, just beneath Pershing Park. The dark, gaping maw of the tunnel loomed before them. Sharing a determined look, they stepped inside without hesitation.

[Felicia stepped into Harry’s office, her voice tentative. "Mr. Osborn? Are you alright? Do you need any help?"]

[Harry poured himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. "No. Not unless you can bring those spiders back to life."]

["Spiders?" Felicia echoed, confusion knitting her brows.]

["The spiders they destroyed! To keep the investors calm!" Harry’s voice grew bitter. "Go home, Felicia. Take the day off." He poured another drink, the weight of failure pressing down on him.]

[But Felicia didn’t move. She hesitated, watching Harry’s defeated posture before speaking up. "Harry... I think there might be another way to get what you want."]

[Harry’s glass paused halfway to his lips. "What do you mean?"]

["I overheard McCann talking with the head of security," Felicia confessed. "Before they destroyed the spiders... they extracted Venom."]

[Harry froze. The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor. He rushed toward Felicia, his eyes wide. "What did you just say?"]

["They did it to avoid lawsuits while keeping the data intact for future use," Felicia explained, her voice steady despite the tension.]

["Where is it?" Harry demanded.]

["Somewhere in this building. It’s stored under a special project that isn’t officially recorded."]

[Harry immediately turned to his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. 'Special Project: Last Access - One hour ago. Authorized by: Harry Osborn.' Harry’s brows furrowed. I didn’t authorize this...]

['Enter Ravencroft Files.'] Harry’s heart pounded as he watched footage of Max Dillon’s accident—falling into the electric eel tank, the horrifying experiments McCann and his team conducted on him. Just as the video reached its peak, it abruptly cut out. A warning message flashed across the screen: Your user rights have been frozen.]

[Harry’s heart sank. He knew immediately that something was wrong. From outside his office, Felicia’s panicked voice echoed, "He’s busy! You can’t go in! He’s busy!"]

[But the door burst open, and McCann strode in confidently, flanked by security guards. Harry shot him a glare. "What the hell did you do?"]

["The real question is, what did you do?" McCann sneered. "An employee dies, and your first instinct is to cover it up? As CEO, that’s beyond irresponsible."]

[Harry exploded, his voice hoarse with fury. "No! You covered it up! You buried him in a psychiatric hospital under my name!"]

["Ravencroft is an institution for psychiatric research," McCann replied coldly.]

["You’re conducting human experiments there!" Harry lunged at McCann, but the guards restrained him easily.]

["Every scientific breakthrough requires sacrifice," McCann retorted smugly. "Now, given your gross misconduct, you’re… how should I put this politely? Fired." His grin widened.]

[McCann had won. He framed Harry for Max’s death, clearing Oscorp’s name while simultaneously ousting Harry from the company. It was a perfect, ruthless move.]

["You’ll never get away with this!" Harry spat, struggling against the guards’ grip.]

["I already have," McCann whispered, leaning in close. "You’ll die a pathetic death, just like your father. But unlike him, no one will mourn you."]

[Harry seethed with rage, grabbing McCann’s collar, but the guards pulled him back. "Wait," Harry hissed, his voice low. "I can walk out on my own."]

[McCann signaled to the guards, who released Harry. With one final, venomous glare, Harry walked out of Oscorp, his mind already racing.]

[Felicia watched in silence, fear knotting in her stomach. If they could do this to Harry, what chance did she have?]

"McCann, you bastard," Harry growled under his breath as he left the building. But deep down, he felt a grim satisfaction. The broadcast had revealed McCann’s manipulations ahead of time, giving Harry the edge he needed to retaliate. He had already used his authority to begin McCann’s downfall within the Austen Group.

"You’re finished this time, McCann," Harry muttered, a dangerous glint in his eyes. As expected, Connor hadn’t been the sole mastermind behind the Spider experiments. Harry had uncovered deleted data files buried deep in the company servers.

All he needed to do now was restore that data and hand it over to the authorities. McCann wouldn’t just lose his cushy job—he’d be spending the rest of his life rotting in prison.