Consequences

*Mr. Fisk*

The Kingpin was furious. First, that flying menace disrupted one of his operations, and now it attempted to kill him. That wretched Goblin! To make matters worse, his reputation suffered as a result. Although no one would directly accuse him of the chaos, he knew that it would leave a stain on his name. Additionally, his costly equipment was damaged, and it seemed like someone was declaring war against him. But first... Fisk pressed a button on the selector in his office.

"I'm listening, Mr. Fisk," a dry and expressionless voice responded.

"Do whatever it takes, but bring me that bastard.Alive, I have some questions for him," Fisk ordered.

"As you wish."

*Norman Osborn*

The elder Osborn was in a panic. The fool, Hobgoblin, not only failed to kill Fisk, but he also managed to infuriate him. Norman didn't know Kingpin very well, but he knew enough to understand that he wouldn't rest until he found out who set him up. And when he did... Norman shuddered at the thought. In the lab, the perpetrator of all the problems burst in, demanding better "toys" and more ammunition.

"You imbecile! You were supposed to take out Fisk and make a swift escape. Why the *expletive* did you cause a massacre on the square?" Norman berated him.

But it seemed that Spider-Man had already beaten some sense into Hobgoblin, threatening and insulting him. The Goblin stole a set of grenades and weapons before vanishing in an unknown direction. Norman sighed through clenched teeth; this was only the beginning.

*Walter Mayer*

I arrived home in a dreadful mood. Not only had Felicia been terrified, but I also lost my music. Moreover, the flying menace ruined the opportunity to implant my cells into various useful people. When I got to the penthouse, I transformed my tattered weekend suit into a cozy robe with bunny-shaped slippers (yes, I decided to relax a bit at home – constantly maintaining the image of a "gothic prince" was exhausting, and besides, I could unwind at home, right?). I flopped onto the couch and turned on the television. The news channel was broadcasting the tragic events that had occurred on the square, with dozens dead and hundreds injured. The country declared mourning, and donations were already pouring in for the victims. The blame was put on terrorists, and a reward was offered for information about a criminal on an "unknown flying device." Richard Fisk announced a million-dollar reward for information on the "Hobgoblin," as they began to call him. However, they conveniently forgot to mention that half the people on the square were saved by Spider-Man (either Jameson was friends with the channel owner, or it was something else!). The news then showed the footage of a man on a flying glider, shouting something about ancient house spirits and terrifying people, tossing bombs at helpless civilians. I turned off the TV and spat contemptuously. How could they possibly associate this incomprehensible flying creature with the concept of house spirits, which were supposed to be protectors and helpers? Well, I had to teach this Goblin a lesson. But where to find the Hobgoblin? For about forty minutes, I tried to dig up any useful information, but it seemed like that part of my memories was locked away(memory became perfect only from the moment of bonding with the symbiote, but everything before that was like that of an ordinary mortal, unfortunately), except for the fact that he abducted Harry Osborn, the same person I "luckily" met. Still, I couldn't remember when that happened. I'd have to keep an eye on him and wait for Peter to deal with the yellow menace himself, as much as I disliked that idea (the sense of justice in me appealed for vengeance against the innocent slain phone). Speaking of the phone... I sighed heavily, grabbed the dead device, and headed to the familiar store.

In the department, I was greeted by the same girl, who recognized me and asked how they could help. In response, I handed her the bullet-riddled... well, "scratch-marked" phone.

"Do you have anything more durable?" I nonchalantly inquired.

"Uhm... I'm afraid not," the clerk stammered.

"Pity. Then give me four more of the same," I said. She looked at me with big, round eyes – not just an anime thing; real people had them too. After my request, the girl took some time to regain her composure (it's not every day that a strange guy brings you a phone almost shot through with a titanium casing and asks for four more), but to her credit, she quickly recovered and, half an hour later, I became the happy owner of several "indestructible" (if only they were) phones. (To the store's credit, they replaced the damaged one under warranty, suspecting it was a material defect, and even apologized!) Then I loaded them with music through the usual noble pirates.

The following days passed quite tense. I finally completed all the necessary paperwork, defended my thesis, and settled the lab issues with Connors. I got in touch with Felicia – she was still shaken but recovering quickly. She had decided to stay home for the remaining week (well, after facing numerous attempts on her life, a person tends to get used to it).

All the New York newspapers seemed to conspire to slander Spider-Man. Some accused him of criminal negligence resulting in casualties, others suggested he conspired with the flying menace, and they even proposed a reward for the capture of the red-and-blue hero. Reading yet another article painting Spider-Man as a villain, I marveled at Parker's self-control and resilience. After repeatedly risking his life to help these people, and this was not the first time, he received nothing but mud in return. Yes... Peter must have an angel inside him in addition to spider genes – because if I were in his shoes, I would at least spit on this city and live my life peacefully or even "turn to the dark side of the Force" (Cookies are a powerful thing!)

But most importantly, Harry Osborne managed to catch me.The red-haired monster, as it turned out, also acquired an apartment in the city and decided to move there with Parker. (No, I understand they are close friends, but living with a friend when there are so many beautiful girls around? He's strange...) So, he invited me to a party celebrating their move. After promising to attend and getting the address, I ended the call. Everything was coming together quite well. I managed to sort out my affairs, accumulated enough anger towards the hobgoblin, and most importantly, I was ready for action. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I missed something. Wait, how did Harry Osborn get my phone number? At the moment, only three people knew my number - Felicia, Curt, and the blind lawyer who helped me with the apartment. Using deduction, I concluded that the redhead could only get my number from Felicia, but why would she do that? Not wanting to dwell on assumptions, I decided to call Miss Hardy.

"Hey, Walter," her voice was like a drug, and I could feel myself getting lost in it. "Is something wrong?"

"Why should something be wrong? Can't I just call to chat about something?" I pretended to be offended. "Anyway, I did want to ask you something. Harry Osborn called me recently and invited me to a party celebrating his move to a new place. Do you know why he suddenly decided to extend such an invitation to someone he barely knows?"

"Um..." it seemed like Felicia was somewhat flustered. "You see, almost all the students from our course will be there, and since you're also studying with us now, I thought it wouldn't hurt for you to meet your future classmates. So, I hinted to Harry and gave him your number..." her voice trailed off, and I could picture Miss Hardy looking embarrassed and fidgeting with her fingers in Hinata-style.

"I see, but please, don't give out my number to just anyone," I replied a bit irritably. "In any case, could you come to the party as well?"

Alas, it seemed like I was now on the "black side of the zebra."

"Sorry, Walter, but my mother asked me to help her with something, so I won't be able to make it," Felicia apologized in a slightly hesitant tone.

"Fine, I'll have to storm the crowd of strangers on my own.Eh my life is hard..," I tried to lighten the mood, and then I changed the subject. "But maybe you'd like to have dinner with me in about a week?"

"With pleasure," Felicia responded, and I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear.

From that point on, I had less than a day before Harry Osborn's party (organizing a celebration right after the mourning period... it was like having a feast during a plague, but whatever). I spent all the available time probing the symbiote. Its capabilities were nearly limitless, but each time I tried to advance to a higher level, I encountered some kind of limitation. The more I studied these limitations, the more I became convinced of their artificial origin. The symbiote's regeneration was the most striking example. The number of cells in me, the symbiote, was always the same—slightly over a trillion. When I attached a part of myself to someone else, the main body didn't bother replenishing the loss. No, I could force my cells to divide and thus increase their number, but anything exceeding the infamous trillion and a bit would die for some unknown reason. At the moment, I sat on the floor, focusing on a small piece of myself, trying to learn how to receive information through it and gather data. So far, I could only do it from about five meters away. Anything beyond that was just directing or summoning the piece back to me. The only plus was that when the piece returned, I gained knowledge of everything it had seen and sensed (well, at least the floors here are clean, but next time, I'll test it on a cake—parquet isn't tasty). The training was tedious and monotonous, and my attention drifted, causing me to fall asleep at some point. Then, I had a very disturbing dream...

(Warning: The following segment is a product of my twisted imagination, horrifying even the Prince of Darkness himself. It carries no meaningful content and merely demonstrates the danger of irritated Higher Entities.)

"I woke up again in a dark puddle in a grimy basement. My thoughts were clear and precise.

Isekaied ..again. Hm, just as if it was planned (note for the future - next time, order landings in non-stressful harem situations as the main character)."

*Somewhere far away*

A female figure in a misty dress angrily turned off the plasma panel.

"Oh, people are so capricious! Such an interesting body, and he doesn't like it. What does he want? A harem? - a very malicious smile appeared on the girl's face. - Well, fine, let him have what he asked for, but then don't complain!" With these words, the girl snapped her fingers, and the world changed.

*Walter Mayer*

I woke up on something soft. A bed! Phew, what a dream! No more reading comics with a drunk head. With these thoughts, I opened my eyes. My gaze met a blood-red canopy. I didn't understand... since when did my bed have a canopy? Looking around, I was, to put it mildly, greatly surprised - instead of my usual double bed, I lay on a huge Bed (there's no other way to describe it). The bed was about three meters long and five meters wide. What the...? But my thoughts were interrupted. A young, melodious voice interrupted my contemplation.

"Greetings on this new day, Maoh-sama." A young lad in a page's suit looked at me with adoration in his eyes. "Would you like to partake in the morning motion?" He gazed at me expectantly.

"Um... yes," I replied, still trying to make sense of everything. As they led me to the bathroom, washed and dressed me, I feverishly thought. What the hell? How did I end up here in the first place? And why did that page call me Maoh? (Hmm, Demon King, translated from Japanese, if my memory serves me right.) Meanwhile, the lad finished his task and asked me in a dreamy voice, "Does Maoh-sama want anything else?" He gave me a look that made me unintentionally gulp air. What the hell, no, if a cute maid were looking at me like that... but a guy??? Okay, maybe I just misunderstood something (yeah, calm down, calm down), but vague suspicions were already taking root in my mind.

"Um... no," I answered.

"Then I'll escort you to breakfast with your fiance, Maoh-sama." The page sounded disappointed.

I felt my eye twitch. So... fiance? I tried to gather myself, but it wasn't easy.

The page didn't pay much attention to my condition and continued to look at me with adoration, but still answered the unspoken question.

"Yes, yesterday the Prince received a marriage proposal from you during dinner and accepted it..." There was sadness and regret in the page's voice, as if he was disappointed that the proposal didn't come from him...

As we walked to the dining hall, I realized more and more what a mess I had gotten into. From cautious inquiries, the page revealed that he was infatuated with me, as were the local general and the supreme mage, all at once. A harem, I, damn it, ended up in a harem! But what a harem it was! This...creature had a sense of humor, and I might even laugh...once I get out of here, I'll rip off everything protruding from its torso and then have a good laugh.

*Somewhere far away*

The girl was choked with laughter, rolling on the floor and making the whole room echo with her cries.

"Hahaha...wow, what is he unhappy about now? Everything is going according to plan, and he's going crazy, but it will be fun to watch." The girl in the misty dress settled back into her comfortable chair in front of the plasma panel. After a moment's thought, she materialized a large box of popcorn and an "I love yaoi" badge and eagerly watched as the enraged isekaier, now possessing the powers of a demon lord, vividly demonstrated how God once destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I managed to reach the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, my hand trembling.

"W-what was th-that?" I stammered, questioning the silence. Glancing at the clock, I cursed and hastily prepared to go to the party.

With a strong will, I transformed the robe and slippers into my familiar costume with all its components (pants, shirt, and the like). At the appointed time, I arrived at the specified address. Music was playing behind the door, and voices could be heard. The host himself opened the door and kindly invited me to join the guests. After shaking his hand (and leaving a tracker on Harry, just in case), I followed him to the main hall. What can I say about this party? Boring... a crowd of unfamiliar people, loud music, and a considerable amount of alcohol... which now didn't interest me in the slightest. After paying my respects to the party host and getting to know a few guys and girls (I wonder if Felicia will get jealous?), I was about to leave, making up some excuses, when I noticed Parker and his aunt standing quietly in a corner. The photographer, with a pensive look, was observing me. As our eyes met, he waved me over invitingly. Hm, he wants to talk... I wonder about what? Anyway, I'll find out soon enough.

It turned out that Peter had already learned about my heroic deeds in saving Miss Hardy and expressed his gratitude for rescuing his fellow student. We chatted for a while, and I told him that I'm now Dr. Connors' assistant. The former assistant, imagining what awaits me, wished me luck and advised me to brace myself (at that moment, I was ready to forgive Parker anything, even the bell tower, realizing that he had been working with Doc for much longer than me). We parted if not as friends, then as good acquaintances for sure. It will be interesting to see the expression on his face when he realizes who he was chatting so nicely with – sooner or later, he will uncover my secret identity, but I hope it's later rather than sooner.

I also got acquainted with his aunt – a quite pleasant and friendly woman. She even invited me over for a cup of tea sometime. However, I didn't want to linger in the crowd for too long, and my instincts warned me that something might happen soon, especially with a psychopath flying around the city in a yellow cape... it would be fun.

Leaving the hospitable party, I transformed into Nazgul's form and went to the rooftop to wait for the guests. It didn't take long for the "house spirit" to arrive and hover right outside the window of the apartment, where a crowd of young people and Aunt May were staring at him in amazement. I didn't see the point in staying in ambush any longer and descended right onto the figure(hobgoblin), not giving him time to break the glass (which he was busy doing, scaring students and one pensioner in the process).

*Peter Parker*

A party. A crowd of people celebrating and enjoying life. Peter was deep in sorrow. He hadn't made it in time... hadn't saved them, and people died. How could anyone be happy at a time like this? Then he noticed a new face in the crowd – a rather grim-looking guy in an expensive cloak, disapprovingly eyeing the revelers. It seemed like he was the one who saved Felicia. Thinking about her made things even worse for Peter. Then their gazes met, and the stranger waved invitingly. The guy approached, and they started a conversation. He introduced himself as Walter and mentioned that he recently transferred to their university and now works as Dr. Connors' assistant. Peter couldn't help but smile, recalling how stern the doctor was during experiments. After chatting with the guy, who could be considered a colleague, they exchanged contact information and went their separate ways. Walter excused himself, mentioning unfinished tasks related to his move. For about an hour, everything seemed calm, but then a recent bomber appeared outside the window, shouting threats and cutting the glass. Peter was about to quietly slip away from the party and put on his costume, but his plans were foiled when a figure in a black cloak without a face swooped down on the yellow-masked guy. He flinched, touched something, and the flying tray wildly took them somewhere in the direction of the slums.

"Did you see that? Was that Spider-Man? No! He doesn't look like him!" Whispers and hushed conversations filled the air. Peter wanted to try and follow them, but Aunt May was too disturbed by what she saw, and the guy had to escort her home.

*Walter Mayer (Nazgul)*

Damn it, even if this guy used to be normal, controlling this thing turned him into a lunatic. The wind brushed against my body (though it's unclear why it was such a weak wind – at these speeds, it should have blown us away), and the masked jerk was yammering about instilling fear in the spirits and how cool he was... We were flying to Harlem, which suited me just fine. And there it was – an emergency landing on the rooftop of an old building. The costumed guy continued to shout, shoot, and throw grenades. I had had enough of all this, and anger started rising within me.

"Instilling fe-e-e-ar, you sa-a-a-y," a hissing sound came naturally, getting better with each try. "What you, m-m-mortal, kno-o-o-w about f-f-fe-e-ar? But don't wo-o-rry, I'll show you what fe-e-ar is..." The faceless figure in the black cloak swooped down on the terrorist, ignoring all his shots and bombs...

*Joseph. Fisk's Security Commander*

"Sir, we found him!" An armed guard rushed up to the man.

"Where?" came the cold question.

"On the roof, in Harlem..."

"His condition?"

"It's better if you see it for yourself."

When Joseph arrived at the scene, he saw a completely grey-haired man in rags, with a shredded mask and soiled pants. The man kept flinching and mumbling something quietly to himself. The guard leaned closer to listen.

"D-demon, a d-d-demon walks the e-e-earth. Darkness... it's his flesh, every shadow – his hands... Light, I need light, perhaps it will save me... no, there's no salvation from him!" The lunatic grabbed his own face with his hands and had a fit.

"It seems we have a problem," Joseph said with a slightly trembling voice.