Chapter 1
The late afternoon sun melted over Brooklyn, catching on the tops of old buildings and running molten gold through the cracked sidewalks.
Gwen Stacy adjusted the strap of her backpack and kicked a stray soda can down the street, the metallic clink clink clink breaking the heavy summer air.
She wasn’t in any rush to get home. Homework could wait. Dinner could wait.
Days like this — days where the city buzzed without feeling like it was trying to swallow her whole — didn’t come around often enough. She wanted to soak it in.
The music in her ears fuzzed slightly, her battered old earbuds struggling to keep up with the messy guitar riffs. It didn’t matter. Gwen turned the volume up anyway, letting the scratchy sound fill her head as she weaved through the crowds. People spilled out of shops and subway stations, the sidewalks packed with life. A group of kids on scooters whizzed past her, laughing too loud; an old man cursed at a cabdriver who nearly clipped the curb. Somewhere far off, sirens wailed.
Brooklyn, in all its chaotic glory.
Gwen smiled to herself. This — this noise, this mess — it was home.
She swung her backpack a little higher on her shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of her sketchbook banging against her spine. Maybe later she’d find a spot to draw for a while. Miles had texted her earlier about meeting up after dinner — something about needing help with Spanish homework, which was basically just an excuse to hang out. Not that Gwen minded. Miles was one of the few people she didn’t feel like she had to fake it around.
At the corner by Delancey, Gwen slowed to a stop, tapping the crosswalk button out of habit even though the lights here took forever. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, glancing around.
Across the street stood the old Oscorp site, fenced off and forgotten.
It had been a research facility once, back before the fire. Nobody really knew what had happened — not the papers, not the cops, not even the conspiracy nuts on the internet. Some said it was an accident, others whispered about experiments gone wrong. Gwen wasn’t sure she believed any of it. The city was full of half-truths and bigger lies.
Still, she found her gaze lingering on the place.
The building’s blackened skeleton loomed behind a sagging chain-link fence, warning signs plastered everywhere like band-aids over a bullet wound. Weeds had clawed up through the cracked pavement. Broken glass glittered under the sinking sun.
Gwen tugged out an earbud, half-expecting to hear... something.
But there was only the distant rumble of traffic, the low hum of the city breathing around her.
She shivered and shoved the earbud back in.
Curiosity prickled under her skin — the kind that got people into trouble. The kind she usually ignored better than this.
Still, the pull was real. Heavy. Like gravity.
Maybe just a quick look sometime, she thought.
Just to see.
The light finally changed. Gwen crossed the street without looking back, blending into the rush of bodies moving along the avenue.
A pizza shop a block down blinked its neon sign at her — $1 slices! — and Gwen veered toward it instinctively, her stomach growling in approval. She dug around in her pocket for crumpled bills, planning the cheapest meal she could string together.
Just another normal night.
Normal homework.
Normal friend to meet up with.
No monsters here.
The pizza was greasy, the cheese barely hanging onto the crust, and Gwen loved it anyway.
She folded the slice in half, Brooklyn style, and took a massive bite as she wandered up the street, ignoring the way the sauce immediately dripped onto her sleeve. Whatever. Battle scars.
Miles was supposed to meet her near the skate park — their usual spot — a few blocks away.
Gwen wiped her hand on her jeans and texted him a quick omw before stuffing her phone back into her pocket.
The sky was sliding from gold to a deeper blue now, the edges of the city softening into shadows. Streetlights flickered awake one by one. Somewhere behind her, a car alarm went off and no one reacted.
By the time Gwen reached the park, Miles was already there, perched on the railing like he didn’t have a care in the world. His backpack was dumped carelessly at his feet, one foot tapping out a lazy rhythm on the metal bar.
He spotted her immediately and grinned that wide, easy grin that made it basically impossible to stay in a bad mood around him.
"Yo, took you long enough," Miles called, hopping down.
Gwen tossed the last crust of her pizza at him, missing on purpose. "Some of us have priorities. Like eating."
Miles snickered and bent to pick up the crust, chucking it into the nearest trash can without even looking. He shot her a mock glare. "You owe me half a slice for the emotional damage."
"In your dreams, Morales," Gwen said, bumping her shoulder lightly into his as she passed. Miles fell into step beside her without missing a beat.
They wandered aimlessly through the park, weaving around skaters and people walking their dogs. The city buzzed around them, but in their little bubble, everything felt... easy. Familiar.
"So," Miles said after a while, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "You ready to fail Math together?"
Gwen snorted. "I was born ready."
He laughed, the sound bright and real, and Gwen felt the knot in her chest loosen a little. Days like this — this normal, boring, perfect nothing — they were rare. She wanted to hold onto it for as long as she could.
They ended up on the swings, like little kids, taking turns seeing who could swing the highest. Miles cheated. Gwen accused him of using "boy muscles." They talked about everything and nothing — teachers they hated, movies they wanted to see, how the new bodega cat down the street was probably plotting everyone’s murder.
Gwen didn’t even realize how much time had passed until her phone buzzed with a reminder about her curfew.
She groaned, dragging her feet to slow the swing down. "Ugh. Gotta bounce."
Miles hopped off his swing with a clumsy stumble that made Gwen snicker. "Text me when you get home?"
Gwen flashed him a grin over her shoulder. "Obviously."
They said goodbye with a lazy fist bump, the kind they’d perfected over years of hanging out, and Gwen headed off into the deepening night.
She didn’t notice the flicker of movement across the street.
Didn’t notice the way something darker than shadow slithered through the alleyways behind her.
Didn’t notice how the city, just for a second, seemed to hold its breath.
Gwen just pulled her hoodie tighter against the cooling air and disappeared into the crowd, humming under her breath, still tasting cheap pizza on her tongue.
Tomorrow would be the same.
Probably.
The streets had thinned out by the time Gwen was heading home, pizza grease still clinging to her fingers and the night pressing closer with every step.
She tugged her hoodie tighter, zipping it all the way up as a sharp breeze rattled past. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and faded away.
Gwen kicked a rock down the cracked sidewalk, half-listening to her music, half-thinking about nothing at all—
Until she heard it.
A faint, broken mew.
Gwen froze mid-step, yanking her earbuds out.
Another cry, high and raw, floated through the night.
She turned slowly, heart already picking up speed. The sound was coming from across the street. From behind the sagging chain-link fence.
From inside the abandoned Oscorp building.
Gwen hesitated. Every ounce of common sense screamed bad idea bad idea bad idea. She wasn't stupid. She'd seen enough horror movies to know how this went.
But the meow came again — thin, desperate — and something twisted in her gut.
It's just a cat, she told herself. Probably scared. Probably starving.
Without giving herself time to second-guess it, Gwen darted across the street.
The fence had a gap near the bottom where the metal had been pulled loose. She crouched, shoved her backpack through first, then wriggled in after it, scraping her palms on the rough wire.
The air on the other side felt different. Heavier.
Like stepping into another world.
Gwen pulled out her phone and switched on the flashlight, the thin beam cutting a narrow path through the gloom.
The cat’s cries sounded louder here. Closer.
She swallowed hard and pressed forward, stepping over broken glass and scattered debris.
The building’s interior was a hollowed-out skeleton. Charred beams jutted from the ceiling like ribs; the floor was cracked and uneven. Some doors hung half-off their hinges, others gaped open into blackness.
Gwen followed the sounds down a long, ruined hallway, heart hammering faster with each step.
"Here, kitty," she called softly, feeling ridiculous. Her voice bounced back at her, thin and warped.
The mewling grew frantic as she neared a heavy door at the end of the hall — one still weirdly intact.
An old Oscorp logo, half-burned, was stamped into the metal.
Gwen reached for the handle. It groaned under her touch but gave way.
Inside was a lab. Or what was left of one.
Tables overturned. Equipment melted into grotesque shapes. Papers fluttered across the floor, scattered like dead leaves.
And in the far corner —
A glass containment pod, cracked open.
Black sludge smeared across the inside.
The cat cries seemed to echo from everywhere now, surrounding her, clawing at her ears.
Gwen took a shaky step forward.
Her phone flickered.
The flashlight dimmed, stuttered. For one awful second, she was plunged into total darkness.
When the light buzzed back, something had moved.
Something slick and black and alive writhed along the floor, dragging itself toward her with slow, sinuous movements.
It shimmered in the light like oil spilled across water.
The cat cries warped into something else — something wet and whispery and wrong.
Gwen stumbled back, pulse slamming against her ribs. Her foot caught on a broken table leg and she fell hard, her phone skidding across the floor.
The black mass surged forward, faster now, sensing weakness.
Gwen scrambled backwards, trying to reach her phone, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.
The thing lunged.
There was no time to scream. No time to think.
Something cold and electric slammed into her skin — into her bones — and the world snapped sideways.
And just like that, the cat cries stopped.