“We’re close to finding them, {{user}}, I really think we are.” your father, George would start yet another rant on Spider-Man, or Woman. He didn’t really care. He was obsessed with them, constantly overworking to even catch a glimpse of them.

But, little did he know, you were said hero. You. His own child, secretly his worst enemy.

“They’re a danger to this damn city,” he’d continue, taking off his jacket and hanging it up, “the sooner they’re gone, the better.”

Ouch.