Marvel: The Villain Chapter 408 Proof

The bodyguards at the main residence opened the door. Peter headed straight for the living room.

Angelina wasn’t reading. She was reclined comfortably on the sofa, scrolling through videos on a tablet. Since it was her day off, she was dressed casually, clearly having had no intention of attending the party herself. Shedding her princess gown and high heels for simple loungewear, she lacked some of her usual icy distance, replaced instead by a quiet, gentle warmth.

To Peter, the scene looked like a masterpiece—one that was permanently etched into his mind.

Angelina heard the knock, but when no greeting followed, she looked up.

"Peter? What are you doing here!" She had expected Brian or Gwen, certainly not him.

"Hey, Angelina." Peter walked forward awkwardly, his hands swinging nervously as if he didn’t know where to put them. "Uh... sorry to disturb you... your brother told me to come..."

Angelina cut him off. "And why did he do that?"

"Well, he said you were reading... so..." Peter trailed off, realizing how stupid the ’common interests’ excuse sounded.

"Whatever. Just sit wherever you like." Angelina waved him over. "Want something to drink? Beer?"

"No... I’m not used to it. Just water is fine." Peter sat down on a sofa, keeping a safe distance—a full five seats apart—to avoid bothering her.

A servant went to fetch the water. After the initial greeting, Angelina turned her attention back to her tablet. Sitting there in silence, Peter felt a cold sweat on his back. This quiet tension was far more excruciating than the noisy party.

"Sir, your ice water... Ah!"

The servant, carrying a silver tray, suddenly tripped, and the glass of water went flying toward Peter.

In a flash, Peter’s hand shot out. He caught the glass perfectly before it could hit the ground, not spilling a single drop.

"Nice catch!" Angelina said with a look of approval. She then looked at the servant on the floor. "Go rest. Use some ointment on that ankle."

"Thank you!" The servant limped out of the room.

Peter took a sip of the water, trying to cool down his racing pulse. Then, glancing at Angelina’s profile, he worked up the courage to ask, "What are you watching?"

Angelina looked up and turned the tablet toward him. "Some new internet celebrity on YouTube. I think he’s called ’Spider-Man.’ Have you seen him?"

Peter’s expression stiffened for a second, then he forced a smile, feeling a secret thrill. "I have. But he’s actually called ’The Spider-Man’."

"Same thing," Angelina said, turning the tablet back.

"No, it’s different," Peter argued. "This guy is out there fighting crime on the streets of New York. You can’t just call him ’Spider-Man’; he’s a hero."

Angelina turned her head and looked at him with genuine interest. "You seem to know a lot about him. Don’t tell me..."

Peter’s eyes brightened, and his expression turned serious. "..."

Angelina narrowed her eyes. "Spider-Man’s activity is mostly concentrated in Queens. You live in Queens too. Don’t tell me you know him."

"No, of course not..." Peter shook his head, relieved. "But I’ve seen him swinging."

"I see. You must be a fan," Angelina said casually.

"Yeah, he’s cool. Strong. Guys look up to him," Peter said.

Angelina turned to face him, a playful smirk on her face. "Mr. Spider-Man, don’t you think it’s a bit embarrassing to praise yourself like that?"

At those words, Peter’s heart started pounding again. "What are you talking about? I can’t even beat Flash. How could I be Spider-Man? That guy can stop a bus with his bare hands!"

Smiling, Angelina handed the tablet to Peter. When he saw the screen, his hair stood on end. It was filled with pages of text and data—a detailed comparison between Spider-Man and Peter Parker himself.

Angelina said. "You actually hid it quite well. For the first few days, I didn’t even suspect you."

"But then your uncle was killed by a mugger. Starting the very next day, Spider-Man suddenly became much more active. And the criminals he targeted all shared a striking resemblance to that mugger. I assume you were looking for your uncle’s killer."

"No, that’s crazy!" Peter turned pale, shaking his head and letting out a fake laugh.

"I’m not done," Angelina said, pointing at the tablet. "Keep scrolling."

"Pages two and three compare Spider-Man’s activity times with your own. They match perfectly. Page four is a range map from FBI criminal profile experts; your house is right in the center of the red circle. Page five is a chemical analysis of the webbing. It turns out the components come from Oscorp’s latest lab products. Coincidentally, you sneaked into an Oscorp lab a few weeks ago disguised as a visitor. Look at page six—that’s Oscorp’s security footage, along with the fingerprints and palm prints you left behind."

"Page seven was a little experiment I just ran. I instructed the servant to trip. Her position and the trajectory of the glass were precisely calculated. You caught it perfectly, proving to me that your reflexes are far beyond the human limit."

Peter stared at the tablet, his pulse hammering in his ears. The evidence was impressive—disturbingly impressive—but after the first shock passed, another thought surfaced.

None of it was proof.

He set the tablet down carefully and looked at Angelina.

"You’ve been busy."

Angelina folded her arms. "That’s your response?"

"My response is that you’ve built a very convincing theory."

"A theory?" she repeated.

Peter pointed at the screen.

"Spider-Man became more active after my uncle died. That proves I was grieving, not that I’m Spider-Man. The activity times match mine? Half of Queens sleeps at night and goes to school during the day. The webbing came from Oscorp? Thousands of employees have access to Oscorp materials."

Angelina’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Peter continued.

"The fingerprints from the lab only prove I was there. Which isn’t exactly a secret. Gwen literally caught me."

"And the glass?" Peter picked up the water. "I play sports."

Angelina leaned forward.

"The servant’s fall was calculated. The angle. The velocity. The timing. An average person couldn’t have caught that glass."

Peter shrugged.

"Then your calculations were wrong."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Brian looked back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match.

Finally, Angelina smiled.

"Good."

Peter blinked.

"Good?" he asked.

"You didn’t immediately panic and confess."

His stomach dropped.

Angelina reached over and swiped to the final page.

Unlike the others, it contained no charts, no maps, and no data.

Just a photograph.

A blurry image taken from several rooftops away.

Spider-Man perched on a water tower.

In his right hand was a backpack.

Peter’s backpack.

The one he had lost three weeks ago.

Peter stared at the picture.

"...Oh."

"Yeah," Angelina said.

"...That one’s bad."

"Very."

Peter rubbed his forehead.

"How long have you known?"

"I was ninety percent sure yesterday."

"And today?"

Angelina glanced at the shattered remains of his carefully constructed denials.

"One hundred percent."

Peter let out a long sigh.

"You know, for about thirty seconds, I thought I was winning that argument."

"You were," Angelina admitted.

"So," she said calmly, "are you finally going to stop pretending?"

Peter looked around the room, then back at her.

After a moment, he laughed.

A defeated, exhausted laugh.

"Fine."

He raised both hands.

"I’m Spider-Man."

"WHAT!"

A gasp echoed through the room. They looked up to see Brian and Gwen standing in the doorway, expressions of pure shock on their faces.

"Oh, God," Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.

...

"You were bitten by a spider? How big was it?"

In the living room, Peter told the three of them everything. The siblings were fascinated, asking a barrage of questions. Though they had powers, theirs were inherited; Peter was a genetic mutation.

The four of them talked for a long time, and Peter slowly began to relax. As it turned out, Peter had recently found some photos and documents in his parents’ belongings. After talking to his uncle, he learned his parents had been scientists at Oscorp, working on cross-species genetics and collaborating with Gwen’s mentor, Dr. Curt Connors.

So, Peter had sneaked into Oscorp to meet Dr. Connors and find out about his parents. He hadn’t managed to see the doctor—and had been caught by Gwen, the intern—but in the chaos, he had stumbled into a bio-cable lab and was bitten by an experimental spider.

Upon returning home, he discovered his strength, speed, endurance, and intelligence had all increased, along with a sixth sense. But just as his life seemed to be turning around, his uncle’s death sent him spiraling. As Angelina guessed, he had put on the red-and-blue suit and used materials from Oscorp to make webbing to hunt for the killer.

But his vigilante career had barely begun before Angelina saw right through him.

Just then, a news alert popped up on the tablet. Angelina tapped it and watched for a moment before handing it to Peter. "Hey, Spider-Man, looks like you’ve got work to do."

It was a video captured by a bystander. On the bridge connecting Queens and Manhattan, a massive Lizard-man was tearing things apart while people screamed in terror.

"I have to go!" Peter stood up immediately.

"You’re going out like that?" Gwen reminded him.

Peter unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the red-and-blue suit underneath.

"The bridge is over ten miles away. I’ll send you in a helicopter," Angelina said.

"Yeah, let’s go too! I want a front-row seat," Brian said, sounding overly excited after his drinks.

"Fine!" Peter was already in deep, so he had no choice but to agree.

...

The helicopter roared into the sky and soon hovered over the bridge. "Look! There he is!" Brian pointed.

The magnificent suspension bridge was filled with fire and blood. The Lizard was engaged in a battle with Stark’s sentry drones and was clearly winning. The drones had an impressive arsenal, but the Lizard was not only incredibly tough but had insane regenerative abilities. Artillery shells would blow chunks out of him, only for the wounds to heal in seconds. Meanwhile, his claws were sharp enough to tear through the alloy of the sentry drones like paper.

"I’m going in!"

Dressed in his suit, Peter leaped from the cabin. He fired strands of webbing in mid-air, swinging across the bridge before diving down to land a powerful kick on the Lizard.

But despite the stylish entry, the kick did nothing. With his superior strength and healing, the Lizard handled multiple enemies with ease. After a brutal fight, the sentry drones were destroyed, and Peter was left heavily injured.

However, the Lizard’s goal wasn’t to kill them. Once the obstacles were cleared, he immediately fled from the bridge. Peter scrambled up, preparing to give chase.

His phone rang. "Peter, it’s Angelina."

Peter looked up at the helicopter. "What?"

"Stop. You’re no match for that thing."

Peter ignored her and fired a web, swinging after the retreating Lizard. "No, I can’t. If I let him go, more people will die."

"Iron Man and Hulk are in New York," Angelina said. "They’ll handle it."

"They’re not here yet!" Peter said firmly. "I might not be able to beat it, but I can slow it down until help arrives."

Angelina was visibly annoyed. "Peter, don’t overestimate yourself. This isn’t the time to play hero. If you keep going, you’re going to die!"

"It’s not about playing hero. It’s my responsibility. And I’m not that weak!" Peter’s voice dropped. "I have to go. I think I found his lair."

He hung up. Angelina gripped her phone.

"Relax. Maybe Peter can pull it off," Brian said. Aside from his sister, he had never met anyone else with powers; he secretly hoped for a peer who could keep up with him.

Ten minutes later, Peter called back, his voice urgent. "Oh my God, you won’t believe what I found!"

"Spit it out!" Angelina snapped.

"The Lizard... it’s Dr. Connors!"

"WHAT!" Gwen cried out.

"Dr. Connors lost his left arm," Peter explained. "He’s been trying to use cross-species genetics to regrow it..."

"Wait, that’s impossible!" Gwen interrupted. "The project was only in the animal testing phase, and there’s been zero progress for years. How could he possibly test it on himself?"

Peter hesitated for a long moment. "The night I went home... I found an algorithm in my father’s notebook. I gave it to Dr. Connors. It was the final piece of the puzzle."

The room went silent.

So, the monster was essentially his own creation. No wonder he’d been getting his ass kicked.

"I have to take responsibility," Peter said, his voice resolute. "Everyone, I need your help!"

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You can read advance Chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

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