Central Park, Manhattan
The Great Lawn had been transformed into a riot of color and sound. It was the annual "New York Unity Festival," a sprawling carnival meant to celebrate the city's resilience.
Tents striped in red and white stretched across the grass. The air smelled of popcorn, diesel from the generators, and sugary cotton candy.
Above the crowd, oversized balloons bobbed in the breeze. Among the mascots walking the grounds, one figure was surprisingly popular: a guy in a cheap Spider-Man costume posing for photos with tourists.
The real Spider-Man, however, was currently standing near the hot dog cart, camera in hand.
Light Inksworth stepped out of a taxi on Fifth Avenue, instantly regretting his decision. The noise hit him like a physical blow—a cacophony of screaming children, blaring pop music, and the mechanical whir of carnival rides.
"Gali, it's too loud," Light complained, adjusting his sunglasses. "I should be home inking page twelve."
He was a creature of the studio. He liked silence, ink, and deadlines. This chaotic humanity was exhausting.
Gali didn't share his sentiment. She vibrated with excitement, her violet eyes wide as she took in the sensory overload.
"No!" she squealed, grabbing his arm and shaking it. "You promised! Fun! Sustenance!"
"Okay, okay. Just for an hour."
Before he could finish the sentence, she released him and darted into the crowd like a purple blur.
"Don't eat the people!" Light called after her, but she was already gone, following the scent of deep-fried dough.
Light sighed. He wasn't worried about her safety. He was worried about the poor vendor who was about to run out of inventory.
He wandered through the crowd, hands in his pockets. In the distance, he spotted Peter Parker. The teenager was snapping photos of the crowd, a confident, relaxed smile on his face. Light observed him thoughtfully. Since One Punch Man dropped, the cultural conversation around heroism had shifted. Peter seemed to be leaning into the "Hero for Fun" philosophy. He looked less burdened by the weight of the world, less haunted by Uncle Ben's ghost.
'Is that a good thing?' Light wondered. 'Or is he just repressing the trauma?'
"Light? Is that you?"
A voice broke his reverie. Light turned to see a girl standing near a ticket booth. She wore a black headband, a chic trench coat, and carried herself with an easy, intellectual grace.
Gwen Stacy.
Light felt a flicker of surprise. He knew her from Empire State University—they shared a few lectures—but seeing her here felt like a collision of plot lines.
"Gwen," Light nodded. "I didn't picture you as a carnival type. Too noisy for a biochem major, isn't it?"
"Peter dragged us out," Gwen laughed, gesturing vaguely toward where Parker was photographing a juggler. "He said we all needed fresh air. But I think he just wanted pictures for the Bugle."
She stepped closer, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Speaking of pictures... I read the magazine. Peter told me you're the artist behind One Punch Man."
"Guilty," Light said.
"It's amazing," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you have to tell me—can Saitama actually beat the Subterranean King? That fight scene at the end of chapter four... the King actually made him bleed! Is he finally going to struggle?"
Light suppressed a smirk. In the original manga, the fight was a dream sequence. Saitama wakes up immediately after, disappointed that it wasn't real. Light had tweaked the pacing in the magazine release to end exactly on that cliffhanger.
"It's a tough fight," Light lied smoothly. "You'll have to buy tomorrow's issue to see the conclusion."
"That's cruel!" Gwen laughed, playfully swatting his arm. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Maybe a little."
"And what about the new titles?" Gwen asked, her eyes bright. "Peter said you're launching two more series."
"I wouldn't recommend them for you, Gwen," Light said, his tone shifting slightly. "They're... visceral. Heavy."
"Don't underestimate me, Inksworth," she teased, crossing her arms. "I'm a police captain's daughter. I can handle a little blood."
Light looked at her. She was bright, alive, and flirting with him. It was a stark reminder that these weren't just characters on a page anymore.
"Fair enough," Light smiled. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
Gwen opened her mouth to reply, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, when a sound tore through the sky.
SCREEEEEEEEE!
It sounded like a jet engine grinding against metal. The music in the park died instantly. Thousands of heads turned upward.
Hovering above the tree line was a nightmare.
A figure clad in emerald green armor stood atop a bat-shaped glider. His face was hidden behind a grotesque, grinning goblin mask. His yellow lenses burned with madness.
"OUT, AM I?!"
The amplified voice boomed across the park, shaking the ground. The Green Goblin looked down at the VIP section near the stage, where the board members of Oscorp were seated for the festival.
"Go to hell! This is a gift!"
He reared back and threw two glowing orange spheres.
Pumpkin bombs.
BOOM! BOOM!
The stage vanished in a fireball. The shockwave shattered the windows of the nearby boathouse and sent people flying like ragdolls.
"Run!" Light shouted, grabbing Gwen's hand.
Panic erupted. The crowd surged, a stampede of terrified screaming humanity. Debris rained down—chunks of concrete, burning wood, and twisted metal.
Light scanned the chaos, his mind racing.
'Green Goblin. The first movie plot line. He's targeting the board members.'
He looked for Gali.
He spotted her fifty yards away, sitting at a picnic table. It was a surreal sight. People were screaming, running for their lives. Explosions were tearing up the turf.
And Gali was calmly eating a corndog.
A piece of shrapnel the size of a dinner plate flew toward her head. Just before impact, it seemed to slide off an invisible curve in the air, missing her by inches. The crowd parted around her unconsciously, like water flowing around a rock.
"My sister!" Light yelled to Gwen, pointing at the table. "We have to get her!"
Gwen screamed over the roar of the glider.
Suddenly, a red and blue streak shot into the air. Peter Parker, having ditched his civilian clothes, swung from a flagpole and intercepted the Goblin.
"Hey! Gobby!" Spider-Man shouted, landing a kick on the villain's chest. "You don't have a permit for that glider!"
The Goblin snarled, recovering mid-air.
"Insect!"
The glider's front panels opened, revealing machine gun turrets.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Bullets tore up the ground, chasing Spider-Man as he swung desperately toward the trees.
Light dragged Gwen to Gali's table.
"Gali!" Light barked, hoisting the girl up by the back of her dress. "We're leaving. Now."
"But I haven't finished the fried dough," Gali protested, clutching a half-eaten funnel cake.
"Eat it on the run!"
"Light! Look up!" Gwen pointed, her face pale.
High above, on the balcony of a nearby historic building that overlooked the park, two figures were waving frantically.
"Help! Someone help us!"
It was Harry Osborn and Mary Jane Watson. The Goblin's initial bombing run had taken out the staircase. The balcony was crumbling, smoke billowing from the room behind them.
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