The stale metallic air of the warehouse felt thicker today. Gwen Stacy dangled from the same steel bars, her Symbiote suit still snug against her skin, pulsing faintly along with her heartbeat. Her arms remained loosely bound above her head, though they all knew—Vee included—that if Gwen truly wanted out, these restraints wouldn't hold her.
But this wasn't about escaping. It was about reaching her.
Doctor Octopus paced in front of the cell, her mechanical arms clicking restlessly against the concrete floor. There was tension in every step, her human hands fidgeting while her steel appendages maintained that menacing stillness. Her face was pale, dark circles framing eyes that flickered between exhaustion and barely-contained rage.
But something was different today.
"You know," Gwen's voice cut softly through the silence, "pacing like that is terrible for your posture."
Vee's eyes snapped up, her face twitching in irritation, but the corners of her mouth fought not to lift into a smirk. The mechanical arms twitched—ready to lash out—but they didn't move.
"Shut up," Vee muttered, but there was no venom.
Gwen tilted her head. "Otto always said tension would ruin the calibration of your back support rig. He'd probably scold you for letting stress undermine your efficiency."
Vee froze mid-step. Her eyes darted toward Gwen, and for a moment, there was no hatred—just pain.
"Don't—"
"I miss him too." Gwen's voice softened. "You don't have to do this, Vee. This… this isn't what he wanted."
Vee's jaw clenched as if she wanted to scream, but her shoulders sagged instead. She took a deep breath—only for her mechanical limbs to jerk, squeezing inward around her torso. She gasped slightly, eyes widening as the arms seemed to tighten without her command.
Gwen's senses sharpened. She saw it.
The arms weren't just tools anymore—they were acting independently.
"You feel it, don't you?" Gwen asked quietly. "They're not yours. Not fully."
Vee's lips quivered, but before she could speak, the mechanical arms snapped into formation like guard dogs. Her face twisted in frustration, but her body stilled—like a prisoner being reined in by invisible shackles.
Above ground, MJ Watson was pretending to struggle with a shopping bag far heavier than it needed to be—courtesy of her Symbiote reinforcing it to hide her earpiece and compact weapon tendrils. Dressed in a sleek black coat and oversized sunglasses, she leaned dramatically against a lamppost, latte in hand, voice low on the comms.
"I swear, if these boots get scuffed before this is over, I'm invoicing Wanda," MJ whispered.
Natasha's voice crackled in her ear, dry as ever. "Do you ever not complain?"
MJ sipped her latte. "No. And this latte's cold now. This is a human rights violation."
Storm's voice joined in from her skyward vantage point. "I could hit you with a bolt of lightning to heat it."
"You're getting sassier," MJ muttered. "I like it."
Talia chimed in, clearly amused. "How's perimeter looking?"
MJ glanced toward the suited guards pacing nearby. Their movements were too precise, their eyes sweeping the area with trained efficiency. These weren't common thugs—they had the gait of professionals.
"We got 'Rich People Problems Security' out here," MJ muttered. "You know the type—probably named Kyle or Chad. Privileged, but with assault rifle training."
Talia snorted. "Corporate bodyguards."
MJ adjusted her sunglasses and whispered, "One of them smells like aftershave and bad decisions. I'm guessing his dad owns a yacht called Tax Evasion."
Inside the warehouse, Gwen pressed harder.
"Vee… what's his name?"
Vee stiffened. Her real hands twitched—just like the ones Gwen remembered fidgeting with Otto's equipment years ago. But before she could answer, the arms flexed—pulling her upright, constricting around her like they were asserting dominance over her flesh.
She gasped. For the first time, Gwen saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"They're… they're helping me," Vee said weakly, but it sounded more like she was convincing herself.
"No, they're not," Gwen countered. "Look at you. You're not free. You're a prisoner. Just like me."
Vee opened her mouth, but her voice failed her. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but before she could break, a sharp buzz echoed through the room.
The distorted voice came from the hidden speakers again—cold, clipped. "Status."
Vee jerked upright, her tone suddenly robotic. "Holding the target. No issues."
Her arms relaxed, but Gwen saw how Vee's chest heaved beneath the mask of compliance. She wasn't okay.
MJ's voice came through Gwen's earpiece, breaking the tension. "Okay, heads up. Heard something from Chad Two—'Boss checking in soon.' Real subtle, boys."
Natasha sharpened over the comms. "You hear that, Wanda?"
At Stark Tower, Wanda Maximoff stood rigid, fingers drumming against the Sokovian drive in her palm. Her eyes burned red, but she kept her tone cool. "I heard it. We hold. Not yet."
Fracture coiled in Wanda's mind like smoke. "The spider grows restless… but patience catches the prey."
"I'm losing her," Gwen whispered under her breath, her mic just low enough for Wanda to hear. "Vee's slipping—she's fighting them, but those arms… they're strangling her."
Wanda's voice was tight. "Hold. We need him to step out."
Vee's eyes darted back to Gwen. The human in her was screaming to be saved.
Gwen leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can end this, Vee. You just have to say his name. Please."
"I can't," Vee choked. "He'll kill me."
Gwen's heart twisted.
MJ, still sipping her latte like it was fueling her life force, smirked as she listened in. "Okay, babe is alive, but I am now positive these dudes outside all wear boat shoes and call their moms 'Deb.'"
Storm murmured through the comm, barely containing her laughter. "Do you think they've ever fought someone not named 'Todd' before?"
MJ exhaled. "Listen, if I don't get to hit at least one of them, I'm gonna be pissed."
Gwen didn't hear the comm chatter—her attention locked on Vee. "Who's controlling you?"
Vee's lips trembled. Her eyes flicked to the camera in the corner. She whispered, "They're always listening."
"We can protect you. Just tell me."
Vee opened her mouth—but footsteps echoed down the corridor outside.
Her face drained of color.
"He's here," she whispered, voice trembling.
Gwen tensed, muscles coiling beneath her suit.
Above, MJ stiffened. "Heads up, ladies. Yacht Boy Security is getting twitchy. Boss Chad might be arriving."
Natasha's voice came in low. "Eyes open. This is it."
Wanda's knuckles whitened around the drive. Her breath was steady, but her heart raced. "Everyone… be ready."
Fracture stirred in Gwen's mind, voice low like a predator in the dark.
"The prey steps into the web."
Gwen locked eyes with Vee one last time.
"We're getting out of this. Together."
The footsteps stopped.
The door creaked open.
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