The boardroom of Oscorp Tower was a cathedral of glass and steel, pristine and gleaming a cold, impersonal arena where profit margins mattered more than people. Norman sat at the head of the long obsidian table, his fingers steepled, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone.
Across from him sat a dozen executives men and women in crisp suits, armed not with weapons but spreadsheets and reports that hit harder than bullets.
"Norman," began Franklin Reeds, the oldest and most vocal of the board members. "We appreciate your vision. We truly do. But Oscorp's profits have been declining for five straight quarters. Stockholders are getting nervous. Investors are calling."
Norman didn't move. "Reed, if you're suggesting—"
"We're not suggesting," another voice cut in and it was a sleek woman with silver hair and ice in her voice. "We're telling. We've taken a vote. The board has decided that unless you turn things around substantially within the next thirty days, you will be replaced as CEO."
Norman's hands curled into fists. "You're replacing me? Me? I built Oscorp!"
"And now it's bleeding under your leadership," Franklin said bluntly. "This isn't personal. It's business."
Norman stood slowly, like a thunderstorm building beneath his tailored suit. "You want results?" he said, voice quiet but sharp as broken glass. "You'll get them. Thirty days."
He didn't wait for a response. He stormed out of the room.
Two floors down and a world away from the boardroom, Oscorp's restricted underground lab thrummed with quiet menace. Fluorescent lights buzzed. Vats bubbled. Scientists moved like ghosts, clipboard-wielding phantoms in white coats.
The elevator doors burst open and Norman Osborn strode in, eyes wild.
A young scientist named Dr. Karl blinked as Norman grabbed him by the front of his coat. "Mr. Osborn—!"
"Give it to me," Norman said.
Karl hesitated, trembling. "Sir, the compound it hasn't begun human trials. We don't know the long-term effects. We need more time."
Norman's eyes burned. "Two days. That's it. No more delays."
Karl hesitated, then swallowed and nodded. He turned, walking to a sealed case and entering a six-digit code. With a hiss, the container opened to reveal a vial of shimmering green liquid.
The label read: GOBLIN.
High above the streets of Manhattan, Spider-Man was doing flips through the twilight skyline, wind tugging at his suit, the city humming beneath him. He landed gracefully on a rooftop near Times Square, slipping his phone out of his pocket mid-swing.
Nathan: So do you want me to pick you up or what?
Ava: Duh. You will pick me up.
Nathan: Okay. I pick you up at 8.
Ava: Cool. And BTW, my dad wants to talk to you.
Nathan froze.
"Shit," he muttered aloud. "Her dad. Ex-military. Of course."
He started pacing across the rooftop, glancing down at the busy streets. "It's fine. Totally fine. What's the worst that could happen? Handshake too strong? Death glare? Open carry?"
His phone buzzed again.
Nathan: Okay. That's cool.
Ava: 😏 See you Saturday night.
Nathan: See you.
Right as he pocketed his phone, it began to ring. He answered. "Peter?"
"Hey," Peter said. "Where are you?"
"Near Times Square. Why?"
"Harry wants to go suit shopping. For the dance."
Nathan grinned. "Alright. I'll pick you up in the car Johnny's letting me borrow."
Peter sounded intrigued. "Oh, this should be good. See you soon."
Nathan arrived at the Baxter Building and was immediately greeted by the AI's mechanical voice: "Spider-Man, authorized entry."
He took his mask off and spotted Johnny lounging on the couch, gaming.
"Yo Johnny."
Johnny paused his game and turned. "Oh, webhead. What's up?"
"The car," Nathan said.
Johnny smirked, standing up. "Follow me."
They walked through the private garage, past rows of gorgeous supercars. Nathan stopped cold when he saw a familiar black 1967 Chevy Impala.
"No way," he whispered. "Is that—"
"Dean Winchester's car? Yep," Johnny said proudly. He grabbed a set of keys off the wall and tossed them. Nathan caught them one-handed.
"Also," Johnny added with a grin, "when you're in the thick of it, remember it's her pleasure before your own so…."
Nathan webbed his mouth shut. "I know what to do, asshole."
He hopped into the Impala and roared off. Behind him, Johnny peeled the webbing from his face with a fiery finger and chuckled. "It's fun teasing him."
Peter stepped outside just as Nathan pulled up.
"NO WAY!" Peter shouted, rushing over. "Is that the exact car Dean drives in Supernatural?!"
Nathan smirked. "Yup."
Peter jumped in. "You win best ride. Hands down."
They pulled up to Tremblay & Sons Formalwear where Harry was stepping out of a limo. The three of them walked in together.
A bell chimed overhead. Inside, it smelled of cedar and class anxiety.
"Okay," Peter said. "Quick in, quick out. No top hats, no accents."
"Good day, my fine sirs!" Nathan announced, grabbing a cane. "I dare say, might one of you be interested in a gentleman's duel?"
Harry grinned. "We've been here ten seconds."
Peter groaned. "Not even surprised anymore."
Louis, the tailor, appeared like Nosferatu. "Young sirs," he said flatly. "Prom or funeral?"
"Depends how the dancing goes," Peter muttered.
Thirty minutes later, Peter stepped out in a sleek navy suit.
"Well?" he asked.
Nathan nodded. "Don't look like a tax attorney. Big win."
Harry emerged next in a black tux with silver trim.
"You serious?" Nathan said. "You look like Bruce Wayne's smug cousin."
Harry smirked. "Thank you."
Finally, Nathan stepped out. Burgundy blazer. Black lapels. Loosened bowtie. Swagger incarnate.
"So?" he asked. "Emotionally unavailable, but stylish crisis guy?"
Peter nodded. "Yup."
Harry added, "Perfect for Ava."
Nathan blinked. "Okay. Rude."
Peter smirked. "You blushed the moment she said hi at lunch."
"I don't blush."
"You do," said Harry.
"Like a tomato at a Bon Jovi concert," said Peter.
Nathan threw up his hands. "Coordinated slander."
Harry leaned on a rack. "You like her, huh?"
Nathan sighed. "Yeah. She's smart. Deadpan. Scary hot. She called me emotionally stunted and I liked it."
Peter grinned. "You're toast."
Harry chuckled. "We all are."
Then he softened. "Gwen's the best thing that's ever happened to me. She keeps me grounded."
Peter nodded. "MJ too. She's chaos and poetry and… brilliant."
Nathan was quiet, eyes on his reflection. "I want to be worth Ava's time. Not just the guy with a childish personality and also a nerd."
Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "She sees you. And she smiles."
Harry clapped them both. "Worst-case? We look amazing."
Nathan grinned. "Even if I'm spiraling, my drip is immaculate."
"God help us," Peter muttered.
"On guard!" Nathan shouted, grabbing the cane.
Louis emerged from the shadows. "Put the display down before I call security."
They froze.
Nathan whispered, "He is the security."
Laughter followed them all the way to the register.
After loading the suits in the car, they walked to a nearby park, each with a cone of ice cream.
Harry licked his mint chip and said, "Remember when we met?"
Nathan smiled. "Yeah. Peter insulted Flash. Flash chased him. I tripped Flash by accident and we both ran."
Harry chuckled. "Then I spilled my apple juice on Flash. Suddenly the whole football team wanted our heads."
Peter laughed. "Chaos. Pure chaos."
Harry looked at them both. "After my mom died, I was alone. My dad buried himself in work. Then I met you two."
Nathan nodded. "When my parents died… you guys checked on me every day. Called. Showed up. Made sure I smiled."
Peter's voice was soft. "I never had friends like you. I was too nerdy, too mouthy. Then… you guys showed up."
Harry wiped his eye. "I always wanted brothers. Now I've got two even if I wanna throw you both off the Brooklyn Bridge sometimes."
Nathan lifted his cone. "To brotherhood."
They clinked their cones together.
And all three ice creams splattered to the pavement.
They looked down.
Then burst into laughter.
In a world of villains, loss, and chaos this moment, this friendship was a kind of armor.