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Jameson stared at the Spider-Man costume on his desk, barely containing his excitement.
"Where did you find this?"
"In a dumpster."
"A DUMPSTER?!"
Jameson picked up the mask, turning it over in his hands. Then he started laughing.
"He quit! He gave up! He surrendered!" Jameson's laughter grew louder. "I finally broke him! Victory for journalism!"
The sanitation worker didn't care about any of that. "So can I get my money?"
Jameson waved at an assistant. "Give him a hundred dollars. And throw in a bar of soap."
The amount was insulting, but the worker took what he could get and left with accounting.
The next day, the Daily Bugle ran emergency editions.
SPIDER-MAN FINISHED!
OFFICIALLY RETIRED!
SHOCKING: WHAT SPIDER-MAN DID THAT MADE HIM QUIT!
Headlines screamed across newsstands throughout New York City.
People couldn't believe it. Their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was gone.
Fans especially struggled to accept the news.
Within days, the crime rate jumped 50%.
Criminals who'd been lying low heard Spider-Man was finished and came out of hiding. When they committed crimes and discovered Spider-Man truly wasn't stopping them anymore, they grew bolder.
Peter walked down the street wearing his glasses—just a regular college student now. Police cars chased a speeding vehicle past him, sirens wailing.
Peter felt conflicted.
He wasn't Spider-Man anymore. Just an ordinary person. There was nothing he could do.
He kept walking.
In a nearby alley, two thugs cornered a civilian, demanding money.
Peter's first instinct was to intervene.
Then he remembered—he was powerless now. If he tried to help, he'd just get beaten up too.
He walked away.
The helplessness ate at him. Watching crimes happen and being unable to stop them was torture.
The next day, crime rose to 75%.
Peter read the newspaper with a complicated expression.
While walking, he heard commotion ahead.
Another residential building on fire.
Different time, different place—same nightmare scenario. A young girl trapped inside.
A woman screamed desperately outside. "Help! My daughter's trapped in there! Someone please help!"
Bystanders gathered but no one moved. Some wanted to help, but the intense heat and flames held them back.
Peter pushed through the crowd. His instinct was to change and rush in—
He pulled off his jacket.
Underneath was just a regular t-shirt.
No Spider-Man suit.
Peter froze.
He was about to turn away, to wait for the fire department—
The mother's voice cut through everything. "My daughter's on the second floor! Someone save her!"
Peter made his decision.
He ran straight into the burning building.
The crowd gasped.
Inside, flames consumed everything. Burning wood fell from the ceiling. Peter covered his nose with his sleeve and carefully made his way to the second floor.
He followed crying sounds to a bedroom. The sobbing came from inside a closet.
"Don't be afraid! I'm here!"
He opened it. A little girl cowered inside, tears streaming down her face.
"It's okay. I'll get you out."
Peter's voice calmed her. She stopped crying.
He picked her up and headed for the exit.
Halfway back, the floor collapsed in front of him—a gap about ten feet wide, flames roaring below.
Peter was just a normal person now. Carrying a child. He wasn't sure if he could make the jump.
Outside, the crowd had been watching anxiously since Peter ran inside.
Then someone pointed upward.
A figure in red and blue swung into view.
"It's Spider-Man!"
"Spider-Man's here!"
"I knew he wouldn't abandon us!"
Spider-Man—wearing a brand new costume—swung through the air on web strands.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
They'd seen the college kid run inside to help, but no one thought he could succeed. Even firefighters in full gear hesitated to enter buildings this far gone.
Spider-Man smashed through a window and disappeared inside.
Peter stared at the burning gap in the floor.
The flames were getting worse. He had to try.
He backed up with the girl in his arms, then ran and jumped.
"AAH!"
He made it across—barely. But the floor where he landed was already crumbling. It gave way beneath his weight.
Peter fell.
A web strand shot out and stuck to him mid-fall.
Peter's hand instinctively reached for the broken edge of the floor. He grabbed hold of the web instead.
Something pulled them upward.
"AAAH!" the girl screamed.
Peter looked up through the smoke and flames.
A figure moved through the fire toward them.
"Spider-Man?!"
The other Spider-Man didn't answer. He glanced at Peter and the girl, then shot more webbing to secure them together.
He grabbed them both and leaped through a window.
They were falling—
Spider-Man shot a web at the roof's edge. They swung safely to the ground.
Then Spider-Man turned and went back into the building. There were still people on the fourth floor.
Moments later, he emerged with another survivor.
The crowd cheered wildly.
"Spider-Man! Amazing!"
"I knew he'd come back!"
"When people need him, he's always there! The Daily Bugle was lying!"
Spider-Man raised his hand in acknowledgment. Then he shot a web toward a distant building and swung away, disappearing into the city.
Peter handed the little girl to her sobbing mother.
Then he stared at the direction Spider-Man had gone.
His expression was dazed. Confused.
If you're Spider-Man...
Then who am I?