Since it's been a while since my last update I've loaded part 3 and part four

Part Four

"Yes, I saw Spider-Man burn down that school." An old lady on the corner of the street commented as she stared at the ruined wreckage, "He was really happy doing it too, he was laughing. It's a shame, when I was a little girl this kind of stuff never happened."

The reporter for the Globe checked her hair one last time if only due to habit, "At this time all the students attending Midtown High will be transferred to P.S. 76 until a plan can be drawn up."

The news crew was covering the scene from every angle. It was a hellish scenario that many had always feared, Spider-Man had never been reliable in the past, his motives always cloudy but this was blatantly evil, in their minds there could be no redemption for the web-slinger.

Peter was staring Uncle Ben in the face, it was the most terrifying moment of his entire life, "I can't believe this." He looked at his trusted relative anxiously, "You really think that I'm responsible for all of what's going on?" His uncle was silent, "Everybody thinks I'm a lunatic, but I haven't done anything."

"I don't know what to do here." Ben sighed deeply crushing his silence in their standoff outside the kitchen, "I didn't ask for this burden, Peter of raising you, but I don't deny that I've loved every minute of it; that was until now. Tell me what's up with you, kiddo. Let me in."

"I am letting you in, there is nothing wrong with me, I never left the house last night." Peter replied sharply, "Something's up, there's a guy out there with a costume and a grudge against me."

Ben grimaced, "You've turned into a real liar, Pete."

"I'm not lying!" He yelled out forcefully beginning to feel like a cornered animal, I swear on May's soul that I would never do anything like what they're saying I'm responsible for." Peter faced his uncle, "You know me better than almost anyone; I depend on your trust; uncle Ben, I've learned to count on you when everybody thinks the worst of me, like now, please."

Ben grimaced and then smiled after staring at his nephew for a moment, "I'm sorry, I do believe you, Pete. Listen, I know you won't drop this whole costume gig, I've learned to live with it, so find out what's going on and settle it before the crap really hits the fan." He said leaving.

Peter watched him leave only able to respond to this command with silence. "God, why are you doing this to me?" He asked in despair leaning his shoulder against the wall. It was now, Peter realized he could hear a voice; it was MJ in the next room on the phone.

"Listen, we've had differences in the past and I know you're not happy about the relationship between me and Peter but we have to cut the crap and find out what's going on with him. Do I think he's crazy? I-I don't know."

His heartbeat had gotten faster; it felt as if it were ready to smash through his chest, "What am I going to do?" He asked himself looking into a mirror placed carefully in the living room. "It feels like the whole world has gone insane, or is it just me?"

The reporter from the Globe entered the office with which she was already familiar with, "Once again we are speaking to Dr. Reinhart. In your expert opinion what is the cause for Spider-Man's latest crime spree?"

Reinhart rubbed his chin for a minute pondering the question. He looked at the diplomas on his wall and then back to the reporter. He was thinking with all his might trying to find what motivation could be driving Spider-Man. Suddenly, a sound cut the air and his face turned red, "Excuse me." The reporter's face shriveled up and she began to cover her nose. "Must have been the Mexican food I ate."

A video was given in from Otto Octavius to all the news stations, it was played almost the entire day, "I see once again, that Spider-Man is in the public limelight and is now being exposed for what he is…a monster."

Otto frowned sadly, "I am no better; I can't deny that, for what remains of my humanity reels in disgust at what I've turned into. Yet, it is important to remember what turned me into what I am: Spider-Man, he is the ultimate blight upon the human race, a sniveling creature that has as much knowledge of decency that a dog does of writing poetry."

"To help give more incentive to the authorities, if Spider-Man is captured and executed then I will gladly turn myself in for whatever punishment is seen fit, even if that would be in the aiding of certain senators who'd like to get their hands on a certain invention of mine. Until then I shall remain forever in hiding, the eternally sincere Dr. Octopus signing off."

Peter came in from the outside and walked up the stairwell of his home. At the top he made his way quietly down the corridor and opened the door to his room. Inside he found both Gwen and MJ with stern expressions.

"We need to talk, tiger."

"Spider-Man, how's life treating you?" Asked DareDevil as he approached the wall-crawler perched on the corner of the roof that had become their usual meeting place.

Peter grimaced, "Don't ask, Matt, did you find what I asked for?" He had narrowly survived his encounter with Mary Jane and Gwen; they had drilled him for over an hour trying to get him to confess to something he knew wasn't true. Eventually in a fit of anger he simply walked out. He'd be in for it from both of them next Monday at school.

"Yes, but it was incredibly difficult. The fact that this imposter's costume was of a high-quality narrowed it down a bit but not by much. I was about to give up."

"Please, just tell me what I need." Peter urged on.

Matt nodded slowly, understanding the anxiety that must have gripped the young hero's very heart, "A custom Spider-Man suit was ordered by Quentin Beck from Designer Inc a week and a half ago. What was odd was that the order was given top priority because of the money that Beck put up-front for it to be of the best quality possible."

"How much did he put up-front?" Peter inquired.

Matt exhaled for a moment, "Two-hundred thousand dollars. This is odd as well because Beck apparently used to be a studio special effects artist before he was fired for reckless endangerment not long ago. He shouldn't have more than a few pennies to his name from whatever odd jobs he managed to scrounge up."

Peter laughed, "Wait he paid two hundred grand for a replica of this thing? It costs me about twenty bucks to make." He said with his tone full of levity.

"Nevertheless, the costume was delivered four days before these crimes began." Matt continued on, "I looked into Beck's other records." He could hear facial muscles contracting to form a smirk, "Hey, don't ask where I got this info and I won't tell anyone about your twenty dollar costume thing. Anyway, Beck's been purchasing all sorts of equipment, adhesive filaments, sleeping gas, body armor; the works."

"Gas?" The memory of being hit with some form of green smoke that night he caught the Vulture remained fresh in his mind. Peter rose up coldly, "Where is he?"

"Beck's reportedly living in a studio down in Manhattan. I'll give you the address."