Mia, sixteen, sits on the sagging sofa, her jaw clenched as she stares at a faded group picture from her old life. Her eyes are red, not from tears, but from the burning resentment toward her stepfather, whose laughter seeps in from the next room. Shadows dance across her face as she grips her phone, scrolling through messages from friends she may never see again.
Mia pulls the mask over her face, becoming someone else—someone fearless. She stuffs a crumpled note into her backpack, its jagged handwriting a threat aimed at her stepbrother, Ben. "Let’s see who’s scared now," she mutters, voice distorted behind plastic.
Ben[/@ch_3] at his locker.]
Mia stalks the corridors, machete slung over her shoulder, eyes cold behind the mask. She slips a note through the locker vents—"You and your father are next." Spider-Man perches unseen on the ceiling, suit glinting beneath the lights, tension radiating from his crouched form.
Spider-Man swings down, landing between Mia and her cornered brother. "This stops now, Mia. I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way," he pleads, his voice low and steady. "You don’t know anything! You never had to leave everyone you loved behind," she spits, her grip tightening on the machete.
Mia[/@ch_1] stands, chest heaving, as Ben clutches his injured friend, and Spider-Man blocks every exit.]
"You’re stronger than this, Mia. You can choose to stop before it’s too late," Spider-Man urges, stepping closer. For a moment, her mask slips—fear and regret flash across her face. But then anger blazes anew. "I want them to feel what I felt," she growls, voice shaking.
Mia[/@ch_1] sits in handcuffs, the Jason mask on the floor beside her, her eyes hollow and distant. Spider-Man stands nearby, watching as paramedics tend to the wounded.]
Ben meets her gaze, confusion and betrayal etched into his face. "You’re not alone, Mia," Spider-Man says gently. The city hums to life outside, indifferent to the scars left within these walls, as Mia’s journey from vengeance to remorse has only just begun.
