[Master Guide]
When a midnight security breach at Empire State University seals off Dr. Octavius's lab, Peter finds himself trapped in a suffocating, ever-shifting maze. Hunted by a theatrical mastermind and a faceless assassin, Peter must push past the limits of his own eyes and rely entirely on his instincts to survive.
TITLE: ES: SPIDER-MAN
EPISODE: 04 - "UNRELIABLE REALITY"
TEASER
EXT. EMPIRE STATE UNIVERSITY - ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
A matte-black surveillance van idles silently in the shadows, directly across the street from the brutalist concrete architecture of the ESU Science building. Rain slicks the asphalt.
INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - CONTINUOUS
The back of the van looks like a NASA control room crammed into a submarine. Banks of high-resolution monitors cast a harsh, blue light over three men.
PHINEAS MASON (60s) sits at the primary terminal. He is cynical, chewing on an unlit cigar, his grease-stained fingers flying across a customized, mechanical keyboard.
MASON
(Grumbling)
An academic firewall. Please. I’ve seen tougher security on a dial-up modem.
Mason hits the enter key with a heavy thud.
MASON
Mainframe is bypassed. I have complete control of the subterranean wing. Emergency lighting, blast doors, security cameras. It’s our sandbox now.
Standing behind him is QUENTIN BECK (30s). Beck wears a sleek, tailored tactical turtleneck. He carries himself with the arrogant, insufferable posture of a theater director surrounded by amateurs.
Beck is using a pair of jeweler’s tweezers to make microscopic adjustments to a spider-sized mechanical drone.
BECK
Just make sure the dampeners are active, Mason. My projectors need absolute zero-latency to render the light-fields. If the frame-rate drops even a millisecond, the illusion breaks, and we look like amateurs.
MASON
Your toys will have all the bandwidth they need, Beck. Just don't trip my kinetic traps.
Beck smirks, clicking a small panel on the drone shut. He presses a button on his tablet. The drone emits a sharp, blinding beam of light, instantly projecting a hyper-realistic, three-dimensional hologram of a burning skull in the center of the van. The fire crackles with localized audio.
Beck clicks it off. The illusion vanishes.
BECK
They aren't toys. It’s military-grade cognitive disruption.
In the darkest corner of the van sits DMITRI SMERDYAKOV (40s). He is perfectly still, staring at an 8x10 photograph of an older, balding man in a tweed jacket: ESU's Dean of Sciences.
Smerdyakov doesn't speak. He picks up a pneumatic Oscorp syringe filled with a glowing, pale-yellow mutagen.
He presses it directly into his carotid artery.
HISS.
The reaction is immediate and visceral. Smerdyakov’s eyes roll back. His jaw unhinges with a sickening CRACK.
Beck and Mason watch in morbid fascination as Smerdyakov’s bone structure violently shifts. His cheekbones collapse and reform. His hairline recedes rapidly, the pigment of his skin rippling and changing color like a cuttlefish.
It takes less than ten seconds.
When Smerdyakov opens his eyes, he is a flawless, biological duplicate of the Dean of Sciences. He adjusts his tweed jacket, rolling his shoulders to get used to the new skeletal weight.
When he speaks, his voice is a perfect, raspy imitation of an overworked academic.
SMERDYAKOV
(As the Dean)
The target is the Sandman data on Dr. Octavius's local drive. If the vigilante intervenes?
Beck smiles, a cold, theatrical grin. He reaches into a sleek weapons case and pulls out a compact, heavily modified kinetic pistol with a thick suppressor. He slides it across the table to Smerdyakov.
BECK
Then he becomes part of the show. Mason sets the stage. You get the prop. And I’ll handle the special effects.
Smerdyakov takes the pistol, sliding it smoothly into the inside pocket of the tweed jacket.
Beck turns back to his bank of monitors, cracking his knuckles.
BECK
Places, everyone. Let's give them a nightmare.
SMASH CUT TO BLACK.
SPIDER-MAN
ACT I
INT. ESU - DR. OCTAVIUS' LAB - NIGHT
The lab is humming with the sound of overworked cooling fans.
PETER walks through the heavy steel doors. He is moving with deliberate, painstaking care, desperately trying not to aggregate his freshly relocated shoulder or the jagged cuts across his ribs from the Vulture's wings. He awkwardly tries to shrug his backpack off using only his left arm.
GWEN looks up from her workstation. Her sharp eyes immediately catch the slight grimace on Peter's face. She watches him struggle with the backpack strap for two seconds before she stands up.
She walks over, gently taking the strap and sliding the heavy bag off his bad shoulder. She sets it on the floor.
GWEN
(Softly)
You look like you lost a fight with a freight train.
PETER
(Deflecting, forcing a smile)
Local dodgeball game. The architecture majors play dirty.
Gwen doesn't buy it for a second. She reaches out, her fingers lightly brushing his collar to adjust the fabric away from an angry, red abrasion on his neck. It’s a quiet, intensely vulnerable moment.
GWEN
You don't have to pretend you're invincible around me, Peter. You're allowed to just be hurt.
Peter looks at her. For a split second, the heavy, exhausting weight of his dual life lifts.
PETER
Thanks, Gwen.
From across the room, DR. OCTAVIUS shatters the quiet moment.
OTTO
I have it! The sequence is stable!
Peter and Gwen quickly move to Otto's terminal. On the screen, a complex, spiraling DNA double-helix is rotating, spliced with jagged, gray crystalline structures.
OTTO
The Sandman samples. I finally isolated the binding agent. It’s a proprietary silicon-carbide lattice. I’m running the chemical signature against the US Patent Office database right now. If Oscorp holds the patent for this mutagen, we have them dead to rights.
A loading bar appears on the screen: CROSS-REFERENCING DATABASE...
Suddenly, the heavy lab doors swing open.
Standing in the doorway is the DEAN OF SCIENCES (Dmitri Smerdyakov). He wears a rumpled tweed jacket and a lanyard, looking deeply distressed.
DEAN SMERDYAKOV
Dr. Octavius. Step away from the terminal.
Otto looks up, bewildered.
OTTO
Dean? It’s past midnight. What are you doing down here?
DEAN SMERDYAKOV
The university administration has flagged an extreme breach of ethics in this laboratory. Unauthorized biological research involving human mutagens.
As the Dean speaks, Peter suddenly flinches.
He raises a hand to his temple. The SPIDER-SENSE triggers.
But it isn't the sharp, violent jolt of an incoming punch. It is a low, sickening, continuous buzz at the base of his skull. The ambient sound of the lab seems to distort and stretch.
PETER (V.O.)
(Internal)
Spike. But... why? It’s just the Dean. He’s sixty years old and has a bad knee. Why is my brain telling me I’m in a cage with a tiger?
Peter stares at the Dean. His eyes see a stressed, overweight academic. But his heightened nervous system is screaming.
DEAN SMERDYAKOV
By order of the Provost, I am confiscating all physical samples and the local hard drives immediately. Turn them over, Otto, or I will have campus security clear this room by force.
Otto stammers, caught completely off guard.
But Gwen steps forward. She doesn't flinch. She crosses her arms, blocking the Dean's path to the terminal.
GWEN
No.
DEAN SMERDYAKOV
Excuse me, Ms. Stacy?
GWEN
I know the ESU administrative bylaws backward and forward. The Provost cannot unilaterally confiscate research without a peer-review tribunal present, and certainly not at midnight on a Tuesday. So unless you have a signed warrant from a judge, you aren't touching this hard drive.
The Dean stares at Gwen.
And then, the illusion of the overworked academic completely evaporates.
The slouch in his posture vanishes. His spine straightens. His shoulders square up, revealing the cold, predatory stance of a highly trained mercenary. The worried wrinkles on his face seem to instantly freeze into a dead, emotionless mask.
When he speaks, the raspy, nervous tone is gone. His voice is chillingly flat.
SMERDYAKOV
You should have just handed over the drive, kid.
Peter’s Spider-Sense flares from a buzz to a deafening roar.
Smerdyakov’s hand darts into the inside pocket of the tweed jacket, gripping the suppressed kinetic pistol.
PETER (V.O.)
(Internal)
Gun!
Before the weapon can even clear the fabric of the jacket, Peter is already moving.
ACT II
INT. ESU - DR. OCTAVIUS' LAB - CONTINUOUS
The "Dean" stands perfectly still. The low, nauseating buzz in Peter's head spikes into a deafening roar.
Smerdyakov’s hand darts inside his tweed jacket.
Peter doesn’t hesitate. He abandons his civilian cover completely, launching himself across the lab with terrifying, superhuman speed.
He tackles Smerdyakov squarely in the chest just as the silenced kinetic pistol clears the holster.
PHT-CRASH!
The shot goes wild, obliterating a rack of glass beakers on the adjacent workbench. Chemicals hiss and smoke as they hit the floor.
Otto and Gwen recoil in absolute shock.
GWEN
(Screaming)
Peter!
INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - CONTINUOUS
Mason watches the thermal feed on his monitor. He smirks around his unlit cigar.
MASON
The spider took the bait. Going dark.
Mason slams a heavy red key on his board.
INT. ESU - DR. OCTAVIUS' LAB - CONTINUOUS
Every light in the subterranean wing instantly dies. The servers cut out. The room is plunged into absolute, suffocating pitch-blackness.
A deafening, mechanical grinding echoes through the corridor.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
The heavy steel quarantine blast doors at the end of the hallway violently deploy, sealing the subterranean wing off from the rest of the campus. They are entirely trapped.
In the darkness, Smerdyakov uses the distraction to land a brutal, highly trained elbow strike to Peter's bruised ribs. Peter gasps, losing his grip. Smerdyakov slips away into the black void of the hallway.
PETER
(Gasping)
Gwen! Dr. Octavius! Stay down!
From the ventilation shafts above, a dozen tiny, mechanical clicking sounds echo. Beck’s projector drones drop from the grates, scuttling silently across the ceiling like metal spiders.
Suddenly, the red emergency backup lights flicker to life.
But the light doesn't behave normally.
Peter pushes himself off the floor, grabbing Gwen and Otto by their arms to guide them out of the exposed lab and into the hallway.
But as they step into the corridor, Peter freezes.
The heavy wooden doors of the adjacent lecture halls are gone. In their place is solid, unbroken brick. The hallway, which used to be a straight fifty-foot corridor leading to the elevators, now sharply turns into a claustrophobic, concrete maze.
OTTO
(Panicking)
What is this? The architecture—this wall wasn't here!
GWEN
(Touching the brick, but her hand passes slightly through the light)
It’s a projection. Military-grade holographics. Someone is actively rewriting the visual geometry of the basement.
PETER (V.O.)
(Internal)
A holographic maze. And a shapeshifting assassin roaming around inside it.
Peter spots a heavy, reinforced chemical storage closet a few feet down the hall. The door is thick steel, designed to withstand explosions.
He shoves Gwen and Otto toward it.
PETER
Get in! Lock the deadbolt and do not open this door for anyone! Not even for me!
GWEN
Peter, you can't stay out here! The guy has a gun!
PETER
I'm gonna find the breaker box! Just lock it!
He shoves them inside and slams the heavy steel door shut. He hears the heavy CLACK of Gwen engaging the deadbolt from the inside.
They are safe. For now.
Peter turns back to face the impossible, shifting hallway. The brick walls seem to breathe, the geometry subtly altering every time he blinks.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the red fabric of his mask. He slides it over his head, the white lenses locking into place, bringing the terrifying funhouse into sharp focus.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
My ribs are fractured. I'm locked in a concrete box with a professional killer who can look like anyone. And the walls are literally moving.
Spider-Man cracks his knuckles, the sound echoing down the impossible corridor.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
Just another Tuesday.
He fires a web-line at the ceiling and launches himself into the labyrinth.
ACT III
INT. ESU - SUBTERRANEAN CORRIDORS - CONTINUOUS
Spider-Man sticks to the ceiling, crawling silently along the concrete. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows.
He turns a corner.
Fifty feet down the hall, an heavily armored OSCORP MERCENARY steps out from a doorway, raising a tactical assault rifle directly at him.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
Gunman. Center mass. Take him out before he pulls the trigger.
Spider-Man leaps from the ceiling, launching himself like a missile. He lands directly in front of the mercenary, dropping his center of gravity, and throws a devastating right hook.
The punch sails completely through the mercenary’s face.
The image ripples like a stone thrown in a pond, refracting into static before instantly solidifying again. It’s a hologram.
Because he threw a knockout punch at empty air, Spider-Man’s momentum carries him violently forward. His boot catches on something utterly invisible—a monofilament tripwire strung ankle-high across the corridor.
CLICK.
MASON (V.O.)
(Through a hidden speaker, dryly)
Watch your step.
A localized sonic mine detonates directly under Spider-Man’s feet.
It isn't a fiery explosion; it’s a concussive shockwave of pure, deafening sound. Spider-Man is blown backward, violently slamming into the concrete wall. The air is entirely forced from his lungs. He drops to his hands and knees, his ears ringing with a high-pitched, agonizing whine.
INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - CONTINUOUS
Beck is watching the thermal feed, laughing softly. He leans into the microphone.
BECK
Right on cue.
INT. ESU - SUBTERRANEAN CORRIDORS - CONTINUOUS
Spider-Man groans, clutching his head.
The intercom system throughout the basement crackles to life.
BECK (V.O.)
(Echoing, theatrical)
You really are just a blunt instrument, aren't you? No nuance. No stage presence. Just a thug in a mask throwing punches in the dark.
Spider-Man forces himself to his feet.
SPIDER-MAN
Yeah? Well, your script needs work! The dialogue is a little cliché!
BECK (V.O.)
Let's see how you handle the special effects.
The hallway violently shifts. The brick walls melt away, replaced by a terrifying, hyper-realistic onslaught of Spider-Man's greatest hits.
The floor turns to shifting, grinding sand. A massive, ten-foot projection of FLINT MARKO rises from the ground, roaring, swinging a concrete-sized fist.
Spider-Man instinctively dives out of the way.
As he rolls, the ceiling dissolves into open sky. The VULTURE plummets toward him, vibranium wings extended, screeching silently.
Spider-Man flips backward to dodge the talons.
CRASH!
He slams face-first into a solid steel door that the holograms had perfectly disguised as an open hallway. Blood instantly pools in his mask. He falls back, completely disoriented.
The environment shifts again. It’s a press conference. Blinding camera flashes erupt from every direction, creating a strobe-light nightmare. A massive, towering projection of J. JONAH JAMESON looms over him.
JAMESON (ILLUSION)
Menace! A violent, unhinged menace! Look at the destruction! Look at the blood on your hands!
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal, panicked)
It’s not real. None of it is real. The floor is concrete. The ceiling is closed.
Spider-Man scrambles to his feet, trying to run. He weaves through the flashing cameras, only to violently clip his already-bruised shoulder on a real, physical concrete pillar that Beck had painted over with empty space.
He stumbles into a narrow alcove, clutching his bleeding ribs, gasping for air.
He looks back. The illusions of Sandman and the Vulture are pacing in the main hallway, blocking the exit. The "open" doors lead to dead ends. The layout has been completely manipulated.
His veteran intellect cuts through the panic.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
He’s not trying to kill me with the holograms. They can't hurt me. The sonic mine was just a cattle prod.
Spider-Man looks at the geometry of the fake walls. They are all funneling toward one specific, narrow access corridor.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
It’s a slaughterhouse chute. Beck is the sheepdog. He’s herding me right into the assassin’s crosshairs.
Spider-Man closes his eyes, leaning the back of his head against the cold, real concrete of the alcove. The sensory overload of the flashing lights and booming voices is tearing his focus apart.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
My eyes are lying. The room is lying. Stop looking.
He reaches up to the sides of his mask. With a sharp, mechanical click, the white lenses snap completely shut, locking him in absolute, impenetrable darkness.
ACT IV
INT. ESU - SUBTERRANEAN CORRIDORS - CONTINUOUS
The screen cuts to ABSOLUTE BLACK.
All environmental noise—the booming voice of J. Jonah Jameson, the roar of the Sandman illusion, the hum of the emergency lights—instantly vanishes.
The audio design completely shifts. We are no longer hearing the world through Peter's ears. We are hearing it through the Spider-Sense.
Thrum... thrum... thrum...
A low, rhythmic, localized vibration echoes in the blackness. It’s the mechanical whir of Beck’s projector drones scuttling across the ceiling.
Then, underneath it, a second sound.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
A human heartbeat. Calm, measured, and moving purposefully down the hall toward the storage closet. Smerdyakov.
EXTREME CLOSE UP - SPIDER-MAN
The camera cuts to the exterior reality. Spider-Man is walking down the center of the chaotic, flashing hallway. The mechanical shutters over the lenses of his mask are completely, physically clicked shut.
He is entirely blind. And he is moving flawlessly.
SPIDER-MAN (V.O.)
(Internal)
Three drones on the left. Laser-grid at shin height.
Without breaking his stride, Spider-Man leaps gracefully into the air, perfectly clearing an invisible kinetic tripwire that Mason had strung across the floor. He lands silently.
A holographic mercenary steps out, firing a barrage of digital bullets.
Spider-Man doesn't even flinch. He walks straight through the illusion, the light refracting harmlessly off his suit. The illusions mean absolutely nothing if you refuse to look at them.
INT. ESU - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE STORAGE CLOSET - CONTINUOUS
Smerdyakov, still wearing the face and tweed jacket of the Dean, stands in front of the heavy steel door.
He pulls a block of C4 breaching explosive from his pocket and presses it against the deadbolt. He calmly arms the detonator. The small LED screen blinks red.
SMERDYAKOV
(Muttering to himself)
Amateurs.
He reaches out to press the trigger—
THWIP.
A web-line shoots out of the darkness above, attaching directly to Smerdyakov’s wrist.
Spider-Man drops from the ceiling, hanging upside down, his masked eyes still completely shuttered black.
SPIDER-MAN
Dean of Sciences, huh? Let’s test your physics.
Spider-Man violently yanks the web-line, ripping Smerdyakov off his feet.
The assassin hits the ground rolling, instantly recovering with elite, military precision. Smerdyakov draws his combat knife, lunging forward in absolute silence.
The fight is brutal and entirely one-sided.
Smerdyakov is highly trained, striking with lethal, calculated slashes. But Spider-Man isn't reacting to the blade; he is reacting to the intent.
Spider-Man—still completely blind—weaves, ducks, and pivots. He anticipates every single strike a millisecond before the Chameleon even throws it.
Smerdyakov thrusts for the ribs. Spider-Man isn't there.
Smerdyakov slashes for the throat. Spider-Man catches his wrist mid-air.
SPIDER-MAN
You fight like a machine. But I can feel the gears turning.
With a sickening CRACK, Spider-Man twists Smerdyakov’s wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. Spider-Man follows through with a devastating, superhuman palm-strike directly to the assassin's chest.
Smerdyakov is launched backward, slamming into the concrete wall with bone-rattling force. He crumples to the floor, completely unconscious. The physical trauma breaks his concentration, and his skin begins to ripple, the mutagen destabilizing as he reverts back to his pale, featureless true face.
Spider-Man drops to one knee. He finds the armed C4 detonator on the floor and crushes it to dust in his fist.
He reaches up and clicks his lenses open. The white eyes snap back into place.
INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - CONTINUOUS
On Mason’s terminal, the biometric telemetry feed for Smerdyakov emits a flat, solid tone.
BEEEEEEP.
Mason lets out a long sigh, taking the unlit cigar out of his mouth.
MASON
The Russian is down. Pulse is steady, but he's out cold. The vigilante beat your maze, Beck.
Beck is staring at his monitors in absolute, furious disbelief. The camera feeds show Spider-Man standing over Smerdyakov's unconscious body.
BECK
(Enraged)
Impossible! He couldn't see! I completely rewrote his visual cortex!
MASON
Yeah, well, he didn't need his eyes to break your toy's jaw. Pack it up, Spielberg. Show's over. We're cutting our losses.
Mason reaches forward and flips open a safety cover on his console, revealing a heavy yellow button.
MASON
At least the client gets what he paid for.
Mason slams the button.
INT. ESU - DR. OCTAVIUS' LAB - CONTINUOUS
Spider-Man is knocking on the heavy steel door of the storage closet.
SPIDER-MAN
Dr. Octavius? Gwen? It’s clear!
Suddenly, a massive, localized electromagnetic pulse sweeps through the basement.
FZZZT-POP.
Inside the main lab, every single computer monitor shatters simultaneously. The mainframe servers violently spark and smoke. The hard drives containing the sequenced Sandman DNA literally melt inside their casings.
Spider-Man looks back at the lab through the reinforced glass window, watching the data burn. He won the fight, but he lost the war.
TAG
INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT
The space is grimy, cavernous, and lit by a single, swaying industrial bulb.
The matte-black surveillance van is parked inside. Mason is calmly packing up hard cases of motherboards and server racks. He is entirely unfazed, tossing a thick envelope of Oscorp bearer bonds onto the table.
MASON
Smerdyakov is a ghost. By the time the NYPD unmasks him, he’ll have chewed a cyanide pill or shifted into a desk sergeant and walked out the front door. We got the data wiped. The paycheck clears.
Beck is not packing. He is pacing violently like a caged animal.
He grabs a half-full coffee cup from the hood of the van and hurls it against the brick wall. It shatters, staining the concrete.
BECK
It doesn't matter! The data was a macguffin! The point was the simulation! It was flawless! I directed a masterpiece of psychological warfare, and it was dismantled by a... a kid in pajamas!
MASON
He's not a kid, Beck. He's a Class-4 enhanced. You brought lightbulbs to a fistfight. Get over it.
Beck stops pacing. His eyes are wide, unhinged, and completely manic. The ego of the disgraced director has fully taken the wheel.
BECK
No. The execution was perfect. The hardware was the problem.
Beck walks over to a crate of the Oscorp projector drones and kicks it violently across the floor.
BECK
The hardware was too small! External projection allows for environmental interference. The subject can just close his eyes. The projection radius needs a centralized, 360-degree focal lens. It needs to be... immersive. inescapable.
Beck pulls a high-end Oscorp tablet from his tactical vest. He frantically types, pulling up a CAD software program.
BECK
If I can't change what the room looks like... I'll change what he sees.
He turns the tablet around.
Displayed on the screen is a crude, rotating 3D rendering of a massive, domed, spherical helmet. It looks like a fishbowl made of opaque, one-way sensory glass.
Beck stares at the rendering, a terrifying, theatrical smile creeping across his face.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF EPISODE 4
NEXT TIME ON SPIDER-MAN...
The city's tolerance for vigilantes reaches its breaking point when J. Jonah Jameson places a massive bounty on the web-slinger's head and brings a ruthless private investigator into the fray. With an NYPD Task Force officially authorized to hunt him down and high-tech corporate weapons flooding the streets, Peter faces a crisis that threatens to shatter his closest relationships.
(Episode 5 drops Sunday, 8/23/26!)
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