❝ got a history of
stories ending sadly ❞

019. electro

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍. Dusty shelves lined every wall, sagging under the weight of ancient artifacts, forgotten relics, and clutter that seemed more like a test of patience than an organizational system. Shadows pooled in the corners, thick and unmoving, giving the space an eerie stillness, like time itself hesitated to exist there. Despite the peculiar, almost haunted ambiance, it had a certain charm — or at least as much charm as a wizard’s basement could muster.

Still, the group of friends had learned to make do. It wasn’t the first strange place they’d found themselves in, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Each had claimed their own corner of the undercroft, busying themselves with the task at hand: identifying multiversal trespassers. Well, busy might’ve been a stretch. Distractions had become part of the process, and this group thrived on them.

Ned was engrossed in setting up equipment, pausing occasionally to give running commentary about the multiverse. Ingrid found herself studying Strange's odd assortment of tools — including what appeared to be a goatee template. She smirked to herself, mentally bookmarking that detail for the next time she saw him. Evelyn, ever the curious one, had managed to coax Dylan into testing an old pilates machine. The experiment quickly devolved into chaos, with Lucas valiantly (and unsuccessfully) trying to extricate himself from it.

But eventually, as all things do, the distractions fizzled out, and work began.

Ingrid sat on an old wooden stool, her face lit by the harsh glow of her phone. The blue light painted her features in sharp relief, a stark contrast to the dim and dusty undercroft. She blinked, her eyes straining against the brightness. When her phone vibrated with an incoming call, her exhaustion lifted, replaced by a small, almost involuntary grin. Seeing her dad’s name on the screen was a reminder of home, warmth, and the constant tug of responsibility she always tried to push aside.

Her thumb hovered over the screen before she accepted the call. "Hey, Dad," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and guilt.

"Ingrid," Bruce began, his tone laced with concern. "You’re sure you’re not coming back tonight? I mean, maybe I could—"

"Dad," she cut him off gently, though her voice had a firmness that belied her internal conflict. "I’m sure. I’m fine, I promise."

He sighed, long and weary. It wasn’t the first time he’d expressed his concern, and it wouldn’t be the last. His worry wasn’t overbearing—it was the kind born from years of loss and fear, the kind that gnawed at her in quiet moments. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest, sharp and unrelenting. Was she a bad daughter for putting him through this? For not coming home? She blinked rapidly, willing the feeling away.

"Dylan and Evelyn brought enough snacks to feed an army. We’re all good," she added, her tone a bit lighter, trying to reassure him.

Bruce hesitated on the other end, his silence speaking volumes. Finally, he relented, though his words carried a hint of defeat. "Okay. If you say so."

Before Ingrid could respond, a tap on her shoulder pulled her attention. Evelyn leaned over her, her ever-present grin lighting up her face. She was perched on an old couch next to MJ, her legs casually draped across the other girl’s lap. Both were absorbed in their laptops, their screens casting a pale glow on their features.

"Tell your dad MJ and I said hi!" Evelyn whisper-shouted, her grin widening. MJ glanced up briefly, offering a small, awkward smile before returning to her screen.

"Evelyn and MJ say hi," Ingrid relayed into the phone, her tone deliberately flat, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

Bruce chuckled softly on the other end, but before he could say more, a sudden exclamation cut through the room.

"We got one! We got one! We got one!"

Ned’s voice rang out, brimming with excitement. Ingrid shot to her feet, nearly forgetting she was still on the phone. "I gotta go, Dad. Love you. Bye!" The words tumbled out in a rush as she ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket as she joined the others gathered around Ned’s computer.

The group clustered around the table, the air buzzing with anticipation. Ned leaned back in his chair, hands held high for triumphant high-fives from Dylan and Evelyn. His expression was one of smug satisfaction as he quipped, "I mean, you can take the guy out of the chair, but you can’t take the chair out of the guy."

"What did you find?" Peter’s voice cut through the buzz as he joined them at the small, cramped table. He slipped into the spot next to Ingrid, his presence a steadying force as his arm looped casually around her waist.

Ned spun his laptop toward the group, his face aglow with reflected light. "There’s a..." He hesitated, his tone shifting as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. "Disturbance near a military research facility outside of the city, and witnesses say they saw a monster flying through the air."

Lucas held his hands up as if their job was done and the whole mystery was solved. "Sounds like a supervillain to me."

Peter's brow furrowed as he looked back at the group. "That's gotta be the guy I saw on the bridge, right?"

Before anyone could respond, a low, gravelly voice echoed from across the room. "That’s impossible."

The group stilled, heads snapping toward Doctor Octavius, who stood with his back turned to them. Though he hadn’t moved, the words had unmistakably left his lips.

Peter’s arm briefly tightened around Ingrid’s waist — a silent acknowledgment of her presence, or maybe just a grounding gesture. Then, with slow deliberation, he released her and took a step forward, his movements careful as he approached Doc Ock.

"You know him, don’t you?" Peter’s tone was steady, but the undercurrent of urgency was impossible to miss. "On the bridge, you said his name. Who is he?"

There was a beat of silence before Octavius finally spoke, his words edged with reluctant disdain. "Norman Osborn," he muttered, the name dripping with bitterness. He turned slightly, his profile cast in harsh shadows. "Brilliant scientist. Military researcher. But he was greedy. Misguided."

Peter’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening as he pushed further. "What happened to him?"

Octavius turned abruptly, his face twisted with fury. His voice thundered through the undercroft, harsh and sudden. "We tire of your questions, boy!"

The air in the room shifted. Ingrid’s instincts flared, and without hesitation, her fingertips ignited in sparks of fiery red, the heat radiating outward in warning. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on Octavius, her posture coiled and ready to strike.

But Peter, ever the negotiator, held up a hand in a calming gesture. His tone remained even, though there was a thin thread of frustration woven through it. "Okay," he said, his voice firm but non-confrontational. "I gotta go." He paused, glancing back at his friends. "Where are we going?"

For a moment, Octavius said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, as if reconsidering his earlier outburst, he spoke again, his voice quieter but no less intense. "It can’t be him."

The group froze, all eyes snapping back to him.

"Why?" MJ asked, her brow furrowing as she leaned forward slightly.

Octavius let out a long, deliberate breath, his shoulders sagging as if weighed down by memories. "Because Norman Osborn died. Years ago. So either we saw someone else... or you're flying out into the darkness, to fight a ghost."

.ೃ࿔*:･

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in deep hues of orange and crimson, when Peter finally approached the military research facility. He swung gracefully between powerlines and over dense patches of woodland, the shadowy expanse of Upstate New York stretching beneath him.

Back in the Undercroft, the group crowded around Ned's laptop, watching Peter's journey through the phone taped to his chest. The makeshift camera view showed a blur of trees and the occasional glimmer of the setting sun through the branches. Peter's suit — now flipped inside out to avoid the embarrassment of the green slime stains — gleamed like liquid midnight, the intricate gold circuits glinting faintly in the dim light.

Ingrid sat bolt upright, her eyes glued to the screen, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the table’s edge. Every fiber of her being wanted to be out there with him. The idea of Peter going alone gnawed at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She swallowed hard. "Pete..." she said quietly, her voice tight with concern. "Just — just keep an eye on the trees, okay? We don’t know where this guy is, and he could be hiding."

MJ wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I genuinely don't know how you do this without throwing up."

Peter landed softly on his feet, the forest floor crunching faintly beneath him. He let out a slow, deliberate breath. The camera now showed a dark, almost impenetrable stretch of woodland, broken only by fleeting shapes that might’ve been buildings or gates in the distance — just faint silhouettes swallowed by the shadows.

Ingrid’s stomach tightened. "Peter?" she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Peter took a cautious step forward, his senses on high alert. The oppressive quiet of the forest was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. A faint sound — so soft it could’ve been imagined — drifted from his right. He turned sharply, his breath hitching.

"Did you see that?" he asked, his voice low and tense.

The group leaned closer to the screen, squinting into the endless blackness.

"Uh... no," MJ said slowly, her voice edged with uncertainty.

"Just trees," Evelyn confirmed, though her voice lacked conviction.

"It’s really dark," Ned added, his tone more nervous than helpful.

Peter’s breathing quickened, audible through the mic. He turned sharply, his movements quick and jerky, his every sense screaming at him to stay on guard. He muttered something under his breath, barely audible.

Ingrid’s chest tightened as she gripped the table. Something wasn’t right.

And then Peter froze.

His silhouette stiffened, and for a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t move. Not a sound escaped him — not even a breath.

"What’s happening?" Ned asked, his excitement and fear blending into a hushed whisper.

Ingrid’s eyes narrowed as she spotted something faint — something just beyond Peter. The shadows seemed to ripple, reflecting a faint golden glow that flickered unnaturally, like the light from a dying bulb. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Peter?" she whispered, her voice taut with urgency. "Are you okay?"

The forest around Peter seemed to brighten unnaturally, the golden glow spreading like the first light of dawn pushing back the darkness. It wasn’t warm or comforting — it was stark and eerie, a light that didn’t belong. Peter’s enchanted web shooters buzzed faintly, reacting to the unnatural energy in the air as he instinctively raised his arm.

MJ shuffled closer to the laptop, her brow furrowed. "Are you getting the, like, the tingle thing? Is the tingle thing happening? Is your tingle tingling?"

“MJ,” Evelyn hissed, though a faint smirk graced her lips, “not the time.”

Peter spun on his heel, and the group collectively sucked in their breath.

Ingrid’s heart lurched as her eyes widened. Amid the powerlines and towering trees floated a ghostly figure, its presence impossible to ignore. It wasn’t entirely solid, flickering and distorting like an image on a glitching screen. Sparks crackled around it, arcs of electricity jumping wildly from its form. Its outline shimmered erratically, chaotic and untamed.

"Are you guys seeing this?" Peter asked, his voice taut with disbelief.

"Yeah," MJ murmured, her usual sarcasm absent for once.

"Osborn?" Ned whispered fearfully.

"No. He was green. This guy's blue." He hesitated, then raised a hand in an awkward wave. "Uh... You wouldn't happen to be from another universe, would you?"

The figure didn’t reply. It remained suspended in the air, its flickering form pulsating with an unsettling rhythm. The only sound was the crackle of electricity snapping like a whip through the tension-filled air.

“What’s he doing?” MJ whispered, her voice barely audible.

Peter tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "I don't know. It looks like he's charging."

Ingrid’s stomach dropped. Fear flashed in her eyes and an uneasy feeling gripped her chest. Her voice cracked when she shouted, "Peter, web him! Just web him — now!"

Peter didn’t question her. His reflexes took over, and he shot a web, the golden threads blazing through the air toward the figure. The web arced beautifully, but the moment it touched the figure, it passed straight through. The energy being remained untouched as if the webbing were no more than a breeze.

The web shot past and struck a nearby tree, splintering the trunk. Back in the Undercroft, the group jumped in unison as the sound reverberated through the laptop speakers.

Then, Electro attacked.

A flash of lightning illuminated the entire forest, casting stark, jagged shadows across Peter and the surroundings. A deafening crack followed as the air itself seemed to explode. Peter barely dodged the blast, flipping backward through a spray of dirt and sparks. He landed on the roof of a nearby shed, crouched low, his chest heaving.

The sky erupted into chaos as arcs of lightning lashed out wildly. The trees glowed with an unearthly light, their leaves catching fire from stray sparks. Electro hovered above, his form now blazing with an overwhelming brilliance.

“Peter, move!” Ingrid shouted, her voice breaking through the cacophony.

The group back in the Undercroft swarmed around Ned’s laptop, yelling directions in panicked unison.

“Left!”

“No, right!”

“Go up!”

“Duck!”

“Guys!” Peter yelled, swinging in a sharp arc around a massive tree trunk as a lightning bolt exploded inches from his webline. “Stop! This is not helping!”

Distracted by the chaotic instructions, he didn’t notice the figure hovering directly in his path. Electro surged forward with a brilliant flash of yellow and blue, his electric form buzzing violently. Peter’s strangled cry was the last sound they heard before the screen on Ned’s laptop went black.

Ingrid’s stomach plummeted. Her eyes widened in sheer panic. "Oh no, no, no." She shoved past Ned, frantically tapping at the keyboard, trying to restore the feed. Her hands trembled, her heart pounding in her chest. "No, no, no! What happened? Peter?” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation. “Peter!"

There was no response. The screen remained a void — no sound, no visual, just emptiness.

“No!” Ingrid’s voice cracked as she pushed back from the table. Her movements became frantic, jerky. She grabbed her backpack, fumbling as she shoved her belongings inside. "I need to go. I... I need to help him." Her words were rushed, slurred with panic as she swung the bag over her shoulder.

Before anyone could stop her, a sudden burst of light illuminated the room behind them. The group whipped around, shielding their eyes as the figure of Electro materialized within one of the containment cells.

Ingrid froze, staring. He wasn’t just a being of chaotic energy anymore — he was a man. Max Dillon. Hestumbled forward, colliding with the invisible barrier that surrounded the cell. He flinched back, his hand brushing over the boundary as he grimaced in confusion. Around them, the lights in the Undercroft flickered wildly, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

Before anyone could process what was happening, another deafening crash filled the space. A second burst of orange light erupted, blinding them momentarily. When it faded, a fourth figure stood in another containment cell.

This one wasn’t human — not entirely.

The man was composed entirely of sand. From head to toe, millions of tiny grains shifted and moved like a living, breathing storm. His broad figure loomed in the cell, his square jaw set in a scowl. As he shifted, sand cascaded to the ground around him in soft, whispering piles.

“What is this?” the man barked, his voice gravelly and rough. He slammed his fists against the invisible barrier with enough force to send tiny clouds of dust scattering.

Electro’s gaze snapped toward the man, his expression hardening. Recognition flashed across his face, and he sneered. “You picked the wrong side."

Before anyone could respond, a chilling sound echoed through the crypt. From the far side of the room, a maniacal, guttural laugh broke the uneasy silence. It reverberated off the stone walls, sending a shiver through the group.

The source was unmistakable: the Lizard.

Electro turned toward the sound, his narrowed eyes scanning the dark cell until he caught sight of the hulking, scaled figure. His expression shifted from confusion to shock. “Connors?”

The Lizard rose to his full height, his massive form hunched as his tail coiled and uncoiled against the floor. His tongue flicked between his sharp teeth, tasting the air as his yellow eyes gleamed with feral intelligence.

Doc Ock frowned, his mechanical arms clicking softly as they adjusted. “Wait,” he said, glancing between Electro and the Lizard. “You know this creature?”

Electro shook his head sharply. “No, no, no. Not a creature.” He took a step closer to the barrier, his eyes locked on the reptilian figure. “A man."

Ned gasped, practically vibrating with excitement. “The same universes!”

“Dr. Curt Connors,” Electro said, his tone clipped as he gestured toward the Lizard. His eyes narrowed in recognition. "He was a scientist at OSCORP when I worked there. A brilliant scientist. Until he turned himself into a lizard. Then he tried to turn the whole city into lizards. It was crazy."

"It wasn’t crazy, Max,” the Lizard countered, his voice a low, silken growl that slithered into the air. His reptilian eyes gleamed, his posture relaxed yet predatory. "It was the next step into human evolution."

Ned, still wide-eyed, leaned toward MJ and whispered, “The dinosaur can talk?”

“Lizard,” MJ corrected under her breath, without looking away.

“Right.”

“Speaking of which,” the Lizard continued, his sharp gaze flicking back to Electro. He tilted his head, his tongue flicking briefly between his teeth. "What happened to you? Last I recall, you had bad teeth, glasses and a comb-over. Did you get a makeover?" He sneered, his scaly lips curling into something akin to a grin. "You know, I can give you a real makeover."

Electro’s expression flattened. "Let me guess, into a lizard?"

The Lizard hissed a laugh. "Exactly."

“Would you two just shut up already?” the sandy figure grumbled, his voice gruff. He crossed his arms, small grains of sand cascading from his shoulders. “Where are we?”

“It’s... complicated,” Ned offered hesitantly.

“The Undercroft,” Ingrid clarified, stepping forward.

“A wizard’s dungeon,” MJ added bluntly, cutting both of them off.

The villains turned to her in unison, Electro raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Wizard’s... dungeon?”

MJ shrugged nonchalantly. "There's no real way to sugarcoat that. It's literally the dunegon of a wizard."

Electro frowned, clearly unimpressed. "Look, you can keep your magic." He raised his hands, golden sparks crackling across his fingertips. The air hummed with energy as the lights in the Undercroft flickered ominously. His lips curled into a manic grin. "I want a taste of that new enegry I just felt."

Before things could escalate further, Ingrid’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She flinched, the sound startling her out of the tense atmosphere. She quickly pulled it out, her heart leaping at the sight of Peter’s name on the screen.

“Peter!” she breathed in relief as she answered, turning away from the crypt. “Oh, thank God. Are you okay?”

She couldn’t help but smile when his familiar voice filtered through the line. “Hey. Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Peter replied, his tone slightly rushed. "Did those guys come through yet? There should be an electric guy and a sand guy."

Ingrid glanced over her shoulder at the containment cells. “Oh, yeah. They’re locked up. Don’t worry.”

“Good,” Peter said with a relieved sigh. "Look, I'm gonna just stay here for a bit and try and fix some of this damage, so they don't blame it on me again." Peter said

Ingrid bit her lip, torn. Part of her wanted to ask him to come back right away, but she held herself back. “Okay,” she said softly, even though a small part of her wished he were closer.

There was a brief pause on Peter’s end before he spoke again, his voice quieter now. “Hey, uh… I couldn’t do any of this without you, so… thanks.”

Ingrid felt warmth bloom in her chest at his words. “Of course,” she said quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“It was probably scary to let me go out there alone,” Peter admitted, his tone tinged with guilt. “But thanks for trusting me.”

“Always,” Ingrid said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Their moment was broken as Ned awkwardly spoke up, making Ingrid glance over. “Hey, ask him if this” — Ned pointed at the snapped and broken tree in one of the cells — “is like… a tree monster or like a scientist that turned into a tree."

Electro, who had clearly been eavesdropping, snorted. “It’s just a tree, man.”

Ned turned to look at him, startled.

Electro shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “It’s just a tree.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 !!!

new chapter after a week yayyyy! idk why this took me so long to write it's kinda mid lol

butttt it is kinda long. i need to write longer chapters because i have soooo many ideas for this act but this isn't even the middle of movie 😔

anyway this is literally ingrid in every movie since meeting peter (she is lowkey down bad)