CHAPTER 1: Truth

This can't be happening. How did everything spiral out of control so quickly? The vibrant pulse of the city, the constant hum of life—it used to be the backdrop to my nightly patrols. Now, it's a relentless drumbeat echoing the seismic shift in my world. , a platform that's always been a thorn in my side, now serves as the stage for my unmasking, for the world to see Peter Parker, not just Spider-Man.

J. Jonah Jameson, the voice of skepticism, an echo of doubt that's followed me from day one, thrusts me into the spotlight of condemnation. "Public Enemy #1." The words reverberate through my mind, a harsh departure from the cheers and adoration I once received.

And then there's Quentin Beck, Mysterio, the master illusionist. His voice, distorted and unsettling, spills the secret that had been so carefully guarded. "Spider-Man's real name is... Peter Parker!" The revelation hangs in the air like a guillotine blade, waiting to sever the connection between my two lives.

The city's reaction is immediate. On a jumbo-screen, my innocent school photo becomes a damning juxtaposition against accusations of murder. Perched on a streetlamp, I, the masked avenger, watch helplessly as the city I once protected turns against me.

The crowd's accusations escalate, fingers pointing at MJ. "She knows him." I can't bear to see her face marked by suspicion. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Please don't touch her," I plead, but my words are drowned in the rising tide of skepticism.

I try to explain, to defend myself, but the accusations gain momentum. "Uh... no, I didn't-" My attempts to speak truth are futile against the roar of collective disbelief.

Then, a bold bystander, fueled by the frenzy, reaches for my mask. "Come on, kid, let me see that face." I react instinctively, swatting her away. "He hit me! Spider-Man hit me!" The accusatory claim reverberates through the crowd, turning the tide of sympathy into a storm of hostility.

I swing through the city, MJ clinging to me, both of us caught in a whirlwind of chaos. J. Jonah Jameson's voice persists, declaring me Public Enemy #1. The cheers of the city have transformed into a cacophony of condemnation.

On the Queensborough Bridge, a momentary respite. "I told you I never wanted to do this ever again!" MJ's frustration and fear are palpable. "I'm so sorry, but I can't see anything with your hand in my-" My attempt to console her is cut short.

"I'm sorry. Sorry..." MJ's apology lingers in the air as we swing past a jumbo-screen broadcasting my transformation into a wanted criminal.

"Okay, where are we gonna go?" MJ's plea mingles with the chaos around us. "I don't know! Your house?!" My suggestion is desperate, a shot in the dark.

"No, no! We cannot go to my house, my dad will kill you!" MJ's retort is a harsh reality check. "What? I thought you said your dad really liked me?" My confusion mirrors the unraveling of my personal life.

As the tumultuous swing continues, we find ourselves on the subway, seeking refuge from the prying eyes above. The subway, usually mundane, becomes a fleeting sanctuary. Emerging from the tunnel, we face the remnants of a city that once adored us, now tainted by accusations that refuse to fade.

"Look out!" MJ's warning precedes the danger of an approaching train. With reflexes honed by years of superheroics, I steer us into a different tunnel, narrowly avoiding disaster.

Amidst the chaos, we find ourselves on a Queens street, the accusatory eyes of the public fixed upon us. "A manhole! Let's go!" My improvisation offers a fleeting escape.

Diving into the manhole, seeking respite, but the escape is short-lived. Clutching MJ, I emerge, attempting to navigate the city's streets while avoiding accusatory glares.

"That was so much worse! But it's okay." MJ's attempt at reassurance holds a tinge of uncertainty. "Are you okay?" My concern cuts through the tumult.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm okay." MJ's response carries a resilient undertone.

Sealing the manhole cover, preparing for another desperate attempt to escape the city's relentless judgment. "I'm so sorry!" My repeated apologies mirror the weight of the situation.

Eventually, we land outside Peter and May's apartment building. Swinging to my bedroom window, hoping for a moment of reprieve. "I'm sorry!" I say as MJ struggles to climb in.

Inside the apartment, May and Happy navigate the aftermath of their romantic entanglement. The situation escalates as nosy neighbors and a curious crowd add layers to the unfolding drama.

The revelation spreads like wildfire. Helicopters hover, crowds gather, and chaos reigns outside my window.

What now? Can I still be the hero this city needs, or am I forever doomed to be its enemy? The internal turmoil matches the external chaos. The weight of responsibility, the consequences of choices made—how do you come back from something like this? Can I still make a difference, or has Spider-Man's time come to an end?

How's it going lads? Hope you enjoyed this one, this is an odd concept, but I hope you're open to it. Next chapter will be out soon.