**[CLASSIFIED - EYES ONLY]**
A shadow has been cast over the 1930s. Our field agents in New York have uncovered evidence that the entity known only as "The Spider" does not bleed red. We intercepted a coded telegram, burned at the edges and smelling of wet concrete. The message was simple: "The Goblin wears a blue uniform."
Our deeper sources—a contact buried in the T.H.E.M. archives—whisper of a hidden war. It seems the Great Depression wasn't caused by a market crash. It was an extraction. A ritual. And Peter Parker, the kid from the tenements, wasn't bitten by a spider. He was *chosen* by it. The totem demands a sacrifice every decade.
We have a photograph. Grainy. Black and white. The Spider, suspended from the Williamsburg Bridge, his trench coat billowing in the wind. He isn't looking at the monster below him. He's staring directly at the camera. At *you*.
Someone is burning the files. The ink is drying on a warrant for my silence.
Stay out of the alleys. That fog rolling in? It isn't weather. It's a veil.
**- Deep Throat, Manhattan Division.**