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Peter webbed Jameson's mouth to stop him from saying something that might provoke the Green Goblin into attacking him again.
It was, in Peter's mind, an act of kindness.
The Goblin didn't care about Jameson anymore. His full attention was on Spider-Man.
While Peter was distracted, the Goblin raised both hands, pointing the backs of his gauntlets toward Spider-Man.
Gray gas hissed from hidden vents in the armor.
It hit Peter in the face before he could react. He inhaled several lungfuls.
Everything went fuzzy. The room tilted.
"Sweet dreams," the Goblin said.
Peter's grip on the web strand loosened. He fell.
The Goblin swooped down on his glider, catching Spider-Man mid-fall.
Then he flew away, unconscious hero in his arms.
Marcus had remained in his office the whole time, watching through his telekinesis.
He frowned as the Goblin disappeared into the distance.
A moment of concentration, and Marcus vanished from his office—invisible, telekinetically propelled, following at a distance.
When other employees came to check on him, they found only an empty room.
Marcus tracked the Green Goblin to an abandoned building on the edge of the city.
The Goblin landed on the roof and dumped Spider-Man onto the concrete. Then he administered something—a stimulant of some kind—to wake him up.
Spider-Man stirred. Groaned. Sat up slowly, limbs still weak from the gas.
"Good," the Goblin said. "You're awake. Now we can talk."
Marcus watched from a nearby rooftop, still invisible.
The Goblin began his pitch. He wanted Spider-Man to join him. Wanted them to work together. Two powerful beings, united, could accomplish so much.
It was, frankly, idiotic.
The Goblin had Spider-Man helpless. He could've removed the mask, learned his identity, used that information as leverage.
Instead, he was... giving a recruitment speech?
Spider-Man, predictably, refused.
The Goblin took it poorly. He ranted about how he'd ruin Spider-Man's reputation. He'd commit crimes, and when Spider-Man showed up to stop him, he'd beat him in front of the public. Everyone would see Spider-Man as weak, as a failure.
Then the Goblin just... left.
Marcus shook his head.
Villains, he thought. Absolute morons.
Killing Spider-Man would've been trivial. Unmasking him would've been devastating. But no—the Goblin wanted to play games.
Seeing that Peter was unharmed, Marcus returned to the Daily Bugle.
A few days later, the Daily Bugle published a bombshell story.
SPIDER-MAN AND GREEN GOBLIN: PARTNERS IN CRIME!
The headline screamed across the front page. The article claimed they were working together, that the "fight" at the carnival had been staged, that Spider-Man was just as dangerous as the terrorist who'd killed those executives.
The city exploded with controversy.
Spider-Man's supporters insisted he was a hero. But plenty of people—especially those who'd always been suspicious of masked vigilantes—believed the story.
Public opinion turned ugly fast.
The NYPD issued an official warrant for Spider-Man's arrest, classifying him as a criminal suspect.
Peter watched his reputation crumble and felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
He'd saved so many people. He'd risked his life over and over. And now he was wanted by the police.
It was devastating.
But then something happened.
Peter, as Spider-Man, saved Mary Jane from a group of muggers in an alley.
After he webbed the criminals for the police, Mary Jane pulled him into a shadowed corner.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then she kissed him. Quick, soft, grateful.
She didn't know who was under the mask. She just wanted to thank Spider-Man.
Peter stood frozen as she walked away.
And suddenly, he understood.
Not everyone would believe he was a hero. Not everyone would appreciate what he did. But some people would. The people he saved—they knew the truth.
That was enough.
He wasn't going to give up being Spider-Man just because things got difficult.
Days later, Spider-Man was swinging through the city on his usual patrol when he heard sirens.
Fire trucks. Lots of them.
He followed the sound and found a five-story apartment building completely engulfed in flames. Fire roared from every window, smoke billowing into the sky.
Firefighters had cordoned off the area and were doing what they could, but the fire was too intense, too widespread.
Most residents had evacuated. But one woman was screaming, trying to break through the firefighters holding her back.
"My baby! My baby's still inside!"
She tried to run toward the building. Two firefighters grabbed her.
"Ma'am, you can't—it's too dangerous—"
"Someone has to save my child!"
Spider-Man dropped from a nearby rooftop.
"I'll get him."
Without waiting for permission, he shot a web and swung directly through a burning window.
The woman collapsed into prayer.
Moments later, Spider-Man emerged from a different window, a small bundle cradled carefully in his arms.
He landed and placed the baby—crying but unharmed—into the mother's arms.
"He's okay," Peter said gently. "He's safe."
"Thank you," she sobbed. "Thank you, Spider-Man. God bless you—"
"FREEZE!"
Peter turned. Three police officers approached with guns drawn.
"Spider-Man, you're under arrest. You need to come with us to the station."
Peter sighed. He didn't want to fight cops.
"Look, I just saved—"
A scream from above.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"
Everyone looked up. There was still someone trapped in the building.
Peter turned to the officers. "I'm going in."
The lead officer hesitated, then nodded. "Go. We'll... we'll wait for you to come back. Then you're under arrest."
"I'm not coming back."
Peter shot another web toward the upper floors and launched himself inside.
He broke through a window into a room completely overtaken by flames. Smoke filled his lungs.
"Where are you?!" he called out.
"Help!" A thin, high voice. A woman's voice.
Peter spotted a figure wrapped in a sheet, huddled in the corner.
"It's okay! I'm coming!"
He dodged around burning furniture, getting closer—
The figure turned suddenly.
The sheet fell away.
The Green Goblin's mask grinned at him.
The Goblin's fist drove into Peter's stomach before he could react.
WHAM!
Peter flew backward, crashed through a door, and slammed into the floor of the next room.
Why hadn't his spider-sense warned him?
Because Schrödinger's spider-sense was apparently taking a nap.
The Goblin walked through the flames, completely unbothered by the heat.
"You never learn, do you?" He spread his arms. "Always flying toward the flame like a moth."
He tilted his head. "Have you reconsidered my offer? Ready to join me?"
Peter struggled to his feet, gasping for breath.
"No."