The Amazing Spider-Man: Path to Redemption (MCU)

[Reposted because the genius here deleted it by accident.]

Link do Patreon: patreon.com/Subaru710772142

***

[Ninth floor] The robotic voice of the elevator announced.

As soon as the doors opened, Peter stepped out and approached the reception desk, where a woman was typing furiously on the computer, not even looking up when he stopped in front of her.

"Hey, Betty," Peter called, resting his arms on the counter.

She finally looked up and widened her eyes upon recognizing him. "Peter Parker? I thought you were dead."

"Almost," he smirked. "Is Jameson in?"

Betty scoffed. "If you're asking whether he'll want to see you... I doubt it."

"Great. So can I go in?"

She rolled her eyes but picked up the phone. "Hold on, I'll let him know you're here. But if he throws a stapler at your head, don't say I didn't warn you."

Peter smiled, but deep down, he wondered if Jameson would actually do that. '...Yeah, he definitely would.'

Betty dialed and held the phone to her ear. Peter waited, drumming his fingers on the counter. On the other end of the line, he could hear a loud, unmistakable voice, even without the speaker on.

"Parker? The kid finally decided to show up? What does he want?!"

"He wants to talk to you here," Betty replied, already used to her boss's tone.

The silence that followed was brief but heavy with judgment. Then, Jameson let out a loud huff.

"The kid disappears, shows up out of nowhere, and thinks he can just walk back in like nothing happened?!"

Peter leaned slightly over the counter. "Tell him it's exclusive photos of Spider-Man's return."

Betty raised an eyebrow and repeated the line into the phone. There was a pause of a few seconds before the man responded.

"Send him in. But if the photos are bad, he better be ready to leave through the window."

Betty hung up and looked at Peter with a half-smile. "Good luck, Peter. You're gonna need it."

Peter nodded and walked down the hallway to the office door. 'Here we go again.' He took a deep breath before stepping inside.

Jameson was behind his desk, as always, a cigar in his mouth and piles of papers scattered around him. His eyes narrowed the moment Peter walked in.

"So, Parker," he said, crossing his arms. "Enjoy your months of vacation?"

"Loved it," Peter replied dryly.

'Smart-mouthed kid,' Jameson pointed a finger at him. "Hand over what you brought."

Peter opened his backpack and took out an envelope with the photos inside. He was sure Jameson would use them to attack him, but he hardly cared about public opinion at the moment—especially if it meant earning some money to help May.

"They're from the day he came back," Peter said, handing the envelope to Jameson.

The editor-in-chief narrowed his eyes and pulled his glasses from his pocket, putting them on before leaning in to examine the photos. Silence stretched through the office as Jameson flipped through them, the only sound filling the space being the ticking clock on the wall.

The photos were good—Peter knew that. Some captured Spider-Man mid-leap between buildings; others showed him stopping a thief in an alley, the red and blue glow of police sirens reflecting off his suit.

Jameson, however, remained silent, biting the tip of his cigar as he moved from one photo to the next. Then, suddenly, he huffed and leaned back in his chair.

"That damn web-head," Jameson muttered, but Peter noticed the way he snapped his fingers against the desk—a clear sign that he was interested. "And damn you too, Parker, for taking better pictures than my employees."

"So, do you want them or not?"

Jameson pulled open a drawer, grabbed a checkbook, and scribbled down some numbers. Then, he tore the page out forcefully and held it out to Peter. "Here. And next time, don't disappear for five months, got it? I need someone useful around here."

Peter took the check and glanced at the amount. It wasn't much, but it was enough to ease May's bills a little.

"Thanks, boss," he said, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket.

"Don't call me boss," Jameson grumbled, already burying himself back in his paperwork.

Peter turned on his heel and walked out of the office, feeling a slight weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn't a big victory, but at least it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

He made his way back to the reception desk, where Betty was once again focused on her computer, but this time, she looked up as he approached.

"So, you survived?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Surprisingly, yeah," Peter replied, resting his arms on the counter. "And I even managed to squeeze some money out of him."

"Wow, now that's a miracle," Betty laughed. "Now tell me, Peter… where have you been?"

Peter's smile faltered for a moment. He should have expected that question. "Around," he answered with a shrug.

"Around?" Betty repeated, unconvinced. "Everyone thought you'd fallen off the map. Even Robbie asked about you a few weeks ago."

Peter averted his gaze, focusing on some random point in the reception area. "I just… needed some time."

She hesitated before speaking again "Was it because of Gwen?"

Hearing her name made Peter feel things he wasn't ready to deal with. "You always were good at putting the pieces together."

Betty sighed, resting her elbows on the counter. "I liked her, you know? She always came by to talk to me when you took too long to turn in your photos."

Peter nodded. He remembered that.

Betty sighed again, looking at Peter with a mix of sadness and understanding. "You don't have to carry this alone, you know? I might not understand everything you're feeling, but I'm here if you ever need to talk. Or just… if you need someone around."

Peter swallowed hard. He didn't want to talk about this. Not here, not now.

"Thanks, Betty. I'll keep that in mind," he said, forcing a smile.

Betty watched him for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but she just sighed and nodded. "Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me," she said, returning to typing on her computer.

"Thanks, Betty," he replied, already starting to walk away.

"Hey, Peter," she called before he got too far, making him turn around.

"Don't disappear again, okay?"

He hesitated for a second. "I'll try."

And with that, he walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, he took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. The day had barely begun, and he was already exhausted.

'I need an energy drink…'

When the elevator reached the ground floor, Peter stepped out of the building quickly, blending into the crowd on the sidewalk.

***

[Oscorp]

In the boardroom, a large glass-and-steel table was surrounded by chairs occupied by board members, all with tense expressions. The acting director, Gregory Harrow, sat at the head of the table, visibly under pressure.

"Mr. Harrow, Oscorp's stock has dropped fifty-five percent in the last three months. Fifty-five percent! This is unacceptable. Investors are losing confidence, and the scandals just keep piling up. What are you doing to contain this crisis?!" one of the members demanded.

"Ms. Thompson, I understand everyone's frustration, but the situation is complex. The tragic death of Norman Osborn and the arrest of Harry Osborn have shaken the company's foundation. We are dealing with federal investigations, lawsuits, and relentless media coverage. This is not something that can be fixed overnight," Harrow tried to explain.

"Complex? That's an understatement, Harrow. Oscorp is on the brink of collapse! And we're not seeing any concrete action from you. The press won't stop talking about the illegal experiments Norman was conducting. This is a PR disaster!" Ms. Thompson continued.

"And we can't ignore the fact that Oscorp's most promising projects are at a standstill. The biotechnology program, the genetic engineering studies… everything is under scrutiny. We need strong leadership to restore the company's credibility," another board member added.

"I'm aware of the challenges, but we need to proceed carefully. Any hasty move could worsen the situation. We are cooperating with the authorities and reviewing all projects to ensure they comply with regulations. Additionally, we are working on a media campaign to repair Oscorp's image."

"A media campaign? That won't fix the core issue, Harrow! Investors want results, not pretty words. And what are you doing to recover the projects that were seized by the government? We need an aggressive strategy, not defensive measures," a third member interjected.

"Mr. Whitaker, I'm doing my best to negotiate with government agencies. But as we all know, Norman Osborn's legacy has cast a shadow we cannot ignore. We need time to rebuild trust," Harrow said, feeling a headache coming on.

"Time is a luxury we don't have, Harrow."

"Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps we're looking at this problem from the wrong angle. We need someone who understands Oscorp inside and out. Someone who knows the projects, the research, and—most importantly—has the credibility to pull us out of this crisis," a fourth board member spoke, drawing everyone's attention.

"And who would that be, Edward? Norman is dead, Harry is in prison, and Harrow is clearly unfit for the position. Who else could take on this responsibility?"

"None other than this company's co-founder—Otto Octavius."

***

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.