Spider-Man's distress didn't last long because the impostor finally stepped into the spotlight.
The morning after Ethan's skirmish with Peter Parker, a video was sent to The Daily Bugle, instantly making headlines across New York. The figure in the footage wore a theatrical cape, high-tech armor, and most notably, a gleaming crystal dome over his head a modified holographic fishbowl. He introduced himself as Mysterio, calling himself a "guardian of truth" and "the real hero New York deserves."
In the footage, Mysterio stood before an elaborate background of projected monsters and cosmic visuals, his voice processed to sound majestic and righteous. He claimed responsibility for exposing the "fraudulent" Spider-Man, accusing Peter of theft, endangering civilians, and damaging the city's image.
"I will bring this wall-crawling menace to justice," he declared confidently. "New Yorkers will finally sleep soundly, knowing their safety is no longer in the hands of an unpredictable vigilante."
After watching the broadcast, Ethan raised an eyebrow and muttered, "Poor Peter." There was no sarcasm in his voice only the calm recognition of a truth he knew all too well. "People hate what they don't understand. The moment a hero stumbles, everyone lines up to kick them."
Venom chuckled darkly in his mind. "The louder the cheers, the faster they turn to screams. Humans love their heroes… right up until they can burn them."
In the following days, staged crimes surfaced across the city robberies, assaults, even a midtown chemical heist all orchestrated to appear as if Spider-Man was involved. Surveillance footage showed a figure in red and blue swinging away. The forgeries were perfect webbing identical, voice mimicked through deepfake tech, and even Spider-Man's posture duplicated with eerie precision.
Under the weight of this manipulated media storm, public opinion flipped. Spider-Man, once hailed as New York's Friendly Neighborhood Hero, had become a menace again. The same headlines that once praised him now screamed: "Spider-Menace Returns!" "Museum Heist! Spider-Man or Super-Villain?" "Public Demands Mysterio Bring Down the Wallcrawler!"
Meanwhile, Mysterio Quentin Beck, a disgraced special effects artist and illusionist rose to fame. His holographic drones, provided by stolen Stark technology, let him fake attacks and play the savior. The public, none the wiser, devoured the narrative. The Daily Bugle ran entire segments glorifying him. Jameson even ran a piece titled: "Mysterio: What Spider-Man Could Never Be."
Ethan, suited up as the Hidden One, stood atop a Midtown skyscraper as Times Square flashed a breaking news banner across one of its LED displays. The footage showed Spider-Man being "repelled" by Mysterio's drones on the Brooklyn Bridge. He apparently fell into the Hudson and "disappeared."
Ethan crossed his arms and said aloud, "Public opinion is terrifying. They'll crucify you for one mistake and praise a con man the next minute."
Venom growled in agreement. "Humans are strange creatures. Primitive emotions. A single trick, and they trade loyalty for fear."
Just as Ethan prepared to speak again, Venom pulled back suddenly. "Wait. Incoming."
Ethan turned just as a familiar figure in red and blue flipped up from a lower rooftop and landed nearby in a familiar three-point crouch.
"Hey, Venom," Peter Parker said, his tone a mix of forced cheer and tired relief. "Didn't expect to see you up here."
"Coincidence," Ethan replied flatly. He studied Peter. Despite the bruises visible along his jawline, and the dullness in his eyes, Peter still carried that same signature energy though it felt a bit strained now.
"You seem… surprisingly upbeat," Ethan noted. "With all the headlines these days, I figured you'd be lying low, licking wounds."
Peter laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was down. Real down. I let that fraud bait me into a public disaster. I walked right into his setup on the Brooklyn Bridge and almost drowned because of it."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "So, the news was right? You really went under?"
Peter nodded. "Mysterio had those holograms everywhere. I couldn't tell what was real anymore. I hesitated, lost focus, and got knocked into the Hudson. Took me hours to drag myself out."
"But I got lucky. When I thought about walking away from all of it Spider-Man, the mask some strangers helped me. People who still believed in what I stood for."
Peter turned to face Ethan, his voice steady. "They reminded me why I started this. A friend once told me, 'With great power comes great responsibility.' That's what keeps me going. No matter how bad it gets."
Ethan blinked. The phrase struck a note not because he agreed with it, but because he'd heard it before. Perhaps too often.
"That line," Ethan said coldly, "is a moral trap. A leash people use to make others feel guilty for having strength. You believe in it, you let it bind you."
Peter's smile faded slightly. "Maybe. But it also saves lives."
Ethan turned away, looking over the skyline. "Maybe. Or maybe it just makes you easier to manipulate. You play the hero, and they expect you to keep smiling while they spit on you."
Venom added, "Your people are fickle. They love you when you win. But the moment you fall… they'll tear you apart."
Peter stayed silent for a beat before replying. "Maybe. But I'd rather be torn apart doing the right thing than stand aside while people suffer."
Ethan didn't respond. Instead, he simply looked up at the billboard flashing Mysterio's name in gold.
"Well, I should have realized it earlier," Peter muttered, almost to himself, as he stood opposite the cloaked figure. "Venom might be fighting evil too, but he doesn't do it like me. Maybe… maybe that's because of what he's been through. The pain changes people."
He trailed off as he looked at Ethan whose expression was unreadable beneath the dark hood. His eyes, however, were cold, deep pools that gave away a truth Peter couldn't ignore. There was a part of Ethan that had stopped believing people could change without force.
"You know," Ethan said, voice low but not without a flicker of understanding, "I don't agree with that quote of yours. But I do admire anyone who sticks to it, no matter what it costs."
He paused, then turned his head slightly, looking directly at Peter's mask. "The person who told you those words must have meant a lot to you. Someone you looked up to. But judging from how heavily they sit on your shoulders… I'm guessing their story didn't end well."
Peter froze.
The words struck like a blade, slipping through the web of his mask and piercing the heart underneath. He didn't need Ethan to say the name he could still see Uncle Ben's face the day he said it: With great power comes great responsibility. That mantra had defined Peter's life, but now, hearing it filtered through someone else's lens made it feel raw all over again.
He stood silent, letting the wind run between them before finally collecting himself. Then, slowly, he turned to face Ethan's hooded gaze. "I need your help, Mr. Venom."
Ethan didn't hesitate. "I'll help. After all, it's not easy finding me. I don't exactly show up in the Yellow Pages."
He gave a half-smile not because he was mocking Peter, but because the tone of the moment demanded something lighter.
Truthfully, Ethan could relate. Being hunted, distrusted, blamed he knew exactly how it felt to have the world point fingers without understanding the full picture. That kind of loneliness was a pain few understood. So helping Peter now, even if they didn't agree on methods, felt right.
Peter visibly relaxed, his shoulders easing. He clenched his fist in restrained excitement, then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks. I mean it. Today's been weirdly lucky. First I ran into people who reminded me why I wear the mask. And then I found you again."
Ethan raised an eyebrow beneath the mask. "So… you didn't come looking for me specifically?"
"Not really," Peter admitted. "I wanted to find you, but tracking you is like trying to catch smoke in a hurricane. I actually came here to clear my head and talk to an old friend."
"Talk to a friend?" Ethan tilted his head slightly, his voice tinged with curiosity. "You came to a rooftop to talk to someone?"
Peter smiled and backflipped to the edge of the rooftop. He pointed at a grotesque gargoyle a bat-winged stone figure perched grimly at the building's corner. "Right there. That's Bruce."
Ethan blinked.
"I've been coming here for years now," Peter said brightly, brushing some accumulated dust off the gargoyle's head. "I named him Bruce. Don't know if he likes it, but it suits him, don't you think?"
Then, with mock seriousness, Peter turned to the gargoyle. "Bruce, meet Venom. Venom, this is Bruce. Be nice to each other, yeah?"
He gave the stone creature a light pat on the head. "From now on, you're not the only nightwatcher I'll be talking to."
Ethan watched him for a moment, the scene so absurdly human it almost didn't compute. Peter, a man who had faced gods, aliens, and killer symbiotes, was now holding an imaginary conversation with a statue.
After a beat of silence, Ethan said in an utterly deadpan tone: "How long have you had this symptom? I think you might want to get that checked out."
Peter paused mid-pat. He turned, clearly embarrassed, and scratched the back of his neck. "It's just a joke, okay? I'm not actually talking to a rock."
"You named a gargoyle," Ethan pointed out dryly. "You talk to it. You asked it to make friends."
"Yeah, okay, when you say it like that, it does sound weird," Peter muttered with a nervous chuckle. "But, y'know, talking to something that doesn't answer back can be comforting sometimes."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. He just looked at Bruce again this time, not as a joke, but as something closer to a mirror. He knew what it meant to talk to yourself, to find stillness in the one place that wouldn't judge you.
After a moment, Peter cleared his throat. "Anyway, back to reality. Let's talk about Mysterio. That guy's tech is advanced he's using drones and illusions I think were built from old Stark schematics. I can't fight him alone."
Ethan nodded slowly. The moment of levity had passed.
The city below buzzed with traffic, horns, and life, but up here on the rooftop, two very different men stood side by side connected by a shared sense of purpose, pain, and an unspoken agreement to fight on, even when the world turned its back on them.