You stood in front of the mirror, phone raised, examining yourself with a skeptical little squint. You needed a second opinion. Immediately. And luckily, your friend was only a text away.

Click.

You inspected the picture. Okay. Maybe a little scandalous. New lingerie. Sparkly. Whatever. That was precisely why you needed advice.

You opened your messages, tapped the familiar name near the top, attached the picture, and—without checking twice—hit send.

Buzz. Then again. You smiled, expecting an answer, and picked it up.

Your smile vanished.

The conversation wasn't your friend's. At the very top of the screen, two horrifying words stared back at you.

Peter Parker. Read.

Your soul left your body.

Three little dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then—