Look 'bad luck' up in the dictionary. Go on. We'll wait. See there? That picture of an awkward college student tripping over his own feet? That's Peter Parker. He's majoring in chemical engineering, and by some stroke of (you guessed it) bad luck, t...
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Peter sat on his bed for most of the day; staring at the flakes of paint that were starting to peel off the walls of his apartment. He was so shocked that he could barely force himself to blink. Protonslaught had managed to save Annabelle at the very last minute, but that was of little consolation to someone who just found out that their best friend was trying to kill them.
At this point, he should have been used to it. After all, his role model had become Doctor Octopus, his old roommate was a villain called Boomerang, one of his High School professors was the notorious criminal Jackal, the son of his boss at The Daily Bugle had briefly been Man-Wolf, and the creator of F.E.A.S.T (a shelter for homeless people that Aunt May volunteered at) was Mister Negative. It was unsettlingly common for Peter to know these villains outside of the suit...but this was different. This was Harry. His best friend since childhood, and one of the few people that could actually console Peter after his uncle died.
Long story short, this sucked. Hard. There really wasn't anything that Peter could compare it to. It was like...losing a limb or something. He wasn't going to let it happen. Not without at least trying to convince Harry away from the path he had chosen. So, with a heavy heart and a broken belt struggling to keep his pants secure, Peter finally left his apartment.
It wasn't long before Oscorp was towering above him, casting shadows across the ground like an ominous warning. The steps leading into the building was absolute chaos; people running in and out as if it were a mini-marathon. It was always busy there, which was why Peter rarely visited Harry at work.
Inside of the building was even worse; a winding labyrinth full of chattering tourists and busy scientists. It was a miracle that Peter even managed to find his way to Harry's office in such an atmosphere. Somehow he did though, and when he arrived his friend was sorting through a pile of documents left sprawled across his desk.
"Bad time?" Peter asked sheepishly, earning a rather loud gasp of fright from the young billionaire.
"Pete?" Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but despite his tone, he didn't look quite like himself. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were lined with dark circles. "Not at all! Did you need something?"
Peter chewed on his bottom lip and kicked his sneaker against the carpet. Harry's casual attitude was making this harder. It was only now that he realised that he had no idea how to bring his concerns into the light without revealing himself as Spider-Man."Oh, uh, not really. Just thought I'd...check up on you."
Harry raised an impossibly neat eyebrow in Peter's direction, then managed to force a smile. "I appreciate it, but as you can see, I'm completely fine."
"Yeah, it's just that...are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk to me about?"
Harry's expression shifted to one of absolute bewilderment. "No, why would there be?"
Peter tried not to look directly into Harry's eyes. It felt as if he could see Norman in them; the psychotic grin and the blood of Gwen Stacy on his hands. "I don't know... You've been acting a little strange of late, and I just wanted to make sure that you were alright."
