MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

Peter soon realized what was causing the strange atmosphere in the classroom.

"Peter, could you step outside for a moment?"

Miss Fish, normally a bit strict, was standing outside the classroom, motioning for him to follow.

Peter hesitated but nodded and walked out.

"This is Officer Billy Nolan. He needs to ask you a few questions," she said, introducing a sturdy Black police officer, then left without further explanation.

Peter frowned. "I don't believe we've met, Officer."

"No, we haven't," the officer replied directly. "I need to ask you about the incident at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital yesterday. You stopped a potential murder, correct?"

"Yeah, that's true," Peter replied. "Why? You here to give me a bravery award or something? Though I wouldn't turn down a bonus."

The officer, taken aback by Peter's serious expression, wasn't sure if he was joking. He cleared his throat. "Actually, the suspect involved is dead. We need to bring you to the station for questioning. Don't worry, your actions were justified, and his death doesn't seem to be connected to you."

Peter hesitated but eventually agreed, following the officer to the police car. As he walked, he mulled over the incident. He hadn't used much force. At most, the man suffered superficial wounds. Could he have been that weak?

The classroom erupted into whispers when the students saw Peter being escorted out. First, there had been Josh's death, and now this. Even though Peter was cleared of any involvement in Josh's case, why did death always seem to follow him? Some of his classmates were already labeling him "dangerous" and "bad luck."

Liz Allen, a reporter and blogger, snapped a picture of Peter being led away and sent it to Gwen.

Gwen quickly texted back: *What's going on, Liz? Why is Peter with the police?*

Liz responded: *Peter's being taken in for questioning. Miss Fish mentioned something about a death at Presbyterian Hospital.*

*What? That's impossible! There must be some mistake,* Gwen replied, her anxiety evident.

Gwen immediately called Liz, her voice full of concern. "What happened, Liz? What do you know?"

"Relax, Gwen. It might not be serious. We don't know anything for sure yet. Plus, I know a lot of good lawyers who could help Peter if needed."

"Like who?" Gwen asked, trying to calm down.

"Ever heard of Greer Hagenson?" Liz said. "He's a big name in New York law—tall, confident, sharp. His leather briefcase and polished smile could win over any jury."

Gwen, unimpressed by the joke, replied, "This isn't funny, Liz. I'm heading to the police station now. We'll talk later."

"Okay," Liz said with a shrug. "But seriously, if you need legal help, my dad's a lawyer too."

---

Meanwhile, at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, Dr. Strange and Christine walked towards the morgue.

"Do we really need to do another test?" Christine asked. "Didn't we already determine Dan Steyn's cause of death? The police were here earlier too."

Dan Steyn, who had attacked Strange, had been stored in the morgue, and the initial autopsy ruled the cause of death as anaphylactic shock.

Strange wasn't convinced. "That cause doesn't sit right with me."

As they entered the cold room, Christine shivered slightly. "You okay?" Strange asked. "I can go in alone if you'd rather."

Christine shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't forget, I'm a doctor too. I've handled plenty of cadavers in college."

"True," Strange replied, opening one of the freezer doors. "But death feels different after you've become a surgeon. It's a reminder that we, as doctors, couldn't save someone."

Christine helped him pull out the body. "I've seen worse," she said. "Back when I lived in Worcester, a tornado hit. The destruction was everywhere—so many dead."

She paused, her face clouded with memories. "For months, the entire town seemed like one long funeral. But what scared me more than the deaths was the way people lost hope. The men would sit silently in bars, while the women shared their grief in backyards. The whole city seemed to have given up."

Strange nodded, understanding now why Christine had chosen to become a doctor. Sometimes, the real battle wasn't against death itself, but the despair it left behind.

As they examined Steyn's body, Strange frowned. "His blood contains traces of a hallucinogen, and his hormone levels are off the charts. It's like he was on something."

"Hallucinogens?" Christine asked. "Could that explain why he was so agitated?"

"Maybe," Strange said, "but hallucinogens don't usually cause anaphylactic shock or cardiac arrest. This isn't just a common drug."

He examined Steyn's mouth, adding, "Whatever he took, it's something we don't understand yet. It could be derived from some unknown plant or animal hormone."

"What's this?" Christine asked, pointing to a spiderweb tattoo on the back of Steyn's head.

Strange's expression darkened. "That's a prison tattoo. It could mean he was involved with a gang or that he felt trapped in some way—like he was caught in a web with no escape."

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