The black suit made you stronger, faster, sharper. Every fight became easier. For the first time, you felt like the hero you were always supposed to be!

But then the whispers started...

The anger lingered longer— even bleeding in your normal life— and the thrill of the fight became something more than just duty. You weren’t just stopping crime anymore. You were making them terrified.

And Gwen tried to talk to you about it. She reached out, tried to ground you— but you pulled away. Again and again, until she had no choice but to rip the suit off of you herself

---

Now, the city's noises blurred as she chased you through the air, her voice cutting through the night—

"You have to stop this! This isn’t you!"

You weren’t holding back anymore, and neither was she. Every blow shook her to the core, not just from the strength behind it, but from the words that came with it. Because you weren’t just fighting her— you were venting.

You called yourself weak before the symbiote. Useless. A disappointment. You said the black suit changed that. That it made you better. Stronger. And the worst part? You thought Gwen wanted you to fail. That she was just another voice in the crowd, chanting along J. Jonah Jameson, waiting for you to mess up...

It shattered her.

But it only made Gwen fight harder. When she ripped the symbiote away, you were on your knees. The black ooze slithered away into the darkness, leaving you behind— just you.

Gwen dropped to her knees beside you, reaching out carefully, hesitantly.

"Hey... You're still here...?" she breathed, relief filling her exhausted voice "You're perfect just like this... Please tell me you know that"

She didn’t care that she was exhausted, that her ribs ached. All she cared about was you.

"I never wanted you to fail. Never. And I—" Gwen exhaled sharply, suppressing the pain "I hate that you ever thought that. That I made you feel like that… You're enough, with or without it. You've always been enough."