Chapter Text
It was strange. This had all started less than a day ago. Beginning with a foolish wish and some irresponsible spell casting and escalated into…well, it just escalated. It just escalated and escalated and kept escalating until Peter was left standing at a broken window, staring down at a sea of flashing red and blue lights. There were dozens of emergency cars arriving, flood lights being set up, loudspeakers going off. No doubt SWAT teams were being organized. A few news vans were already pulling up.
They knew. Another disaster and at the heart of it: Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man. It was happening all over again…
“Peter, let’s go!” May grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him to the door. Peter winced. May’s grip softened, she held him closer, but she didn’t stop pulling. Peter’s entire body ached.
Happy opened the door, leading them out and away from the burning wreckage of what had been, for the last few weeks, Peter’s home. A temporary replacement until Peter found a way to fix things.
Right. Fix things.
Peter could have spent this whole day looking for somewhere new for him and May to live. You know, so they weren’t crashing at her ex’s place? Instead he spent it destroying a building. He spent it taking responsibility for dimension-hopping time-traveling criminals. He spent it sabotaging an actual wizard who was in charge of handling these exact kinds of problems.
The regret was vague. Peter didn’t really know what to think. He wasn’t sure how he could have done better. Stepping out into the hallway, he found himself listening intently to the muffled sound of a child crying. It sounded like a toddler.
“Nowhere to go but up.” Happy waved for May and Peter to follow him before heading for the staircase.
Happy didn’t have his gun anymore, at least not in plain view. Peter wasn’t sure what had happened to it. Or with it. Had the bullets that ricocheted off the actuators gone through any walls? Maybe that crying toddler was hurt. Maybe their guardian was shot and bleeding out. Peter stopped, looking back. But May kept pulling him along. The crying eventually faded away.
He just couldn’t…couldn’t focus.
Peter didn’t really know what the effects of electrocution were but…well, he had difficulty concentrating in even the best of circumstances. Climbing the stairwell seemed to last for an eternity and yet, reaching the top, Peter could hardly remember even doing it.
The broken door opening onto the roof was strange. It was barely hanging by its hinges, lock shattered and a large dent right in the middle. The thick metal was practically caved in, almost snapped in half. When did that happened? Happy merely shoved it aside, clearly not giving it a second thought. May and Peter followed. Stepping onto the roof, the sirens sounded clearer but also very far away. Good thing too, Peter had such a headache.
The condo roof was large. There wasn’t a garden or chairs or a sunroof. Mostly just a lot of nothing. Peter had become somewhat of an expert on rooftops over the years and it was ones like this that he was particularly familiar with. Rooftops where he wouldn’t be caught. Where, as Spider-Man, he could be alone. High up, closed access, a network of AC units and fans fenced away in one corner, a few solar panels…other roof stuff. Okay, so expert probably wasn’t the right word. He didn’t know much about building maintenance. But he did know the best views in all of NYC. This one wasn’t one of them but it did have some good memories nevertheless. A week ago, May had somehow gotten past the then locked roof access door and met Peter up here. They had talked about…Peter couldn’t remember. Nothing serious. It had just been a break from reality. An escape. For both of them. It had been nice.
“Now what?” May gently let go of Peter, stepping away. She was looking at Happy. “What can we do up here? Do you have a plan?”
Happy shifted uncomfortably.
“I…look, if we’re going to be arrested, best it happens here. Away from the other residents, open area, hopefully in view of some news helicopters soon.”
“In view of...you can’t mean they would…?” May glanced over at Peter with alarm. Quickly turning back to Happy, she waved a hand emphatically. “It doesn’t matter. Peter is not getting arrested, not tonight.”
“You want him to become a fugitive?”
“Of course not! But this wasn’t his fault. And it isn’t over, people are still in danger.”
People are still…Peter’s focus snapped back into place. A fresh shot of adrenaline cleared his thoughts. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“I’m leaving.”
May and Happy turned to Peter. He could have left without saying anything to them. Leapt straight off the roof and away without even a glance back. With the looks May and Happy were giving him now, Peter wished he had.
“I-I’m sorry, I have to leave you guys here. MJ…” Peter started stepping away. May went after him, reaching to take Peter’s hand. He tried to pull away, he had to go! …it said a lot about his current state that he wasn’t fast enough to escape her.
“Peter, no! You’re hurt, you can’t-”
“There isn’t time to argue, May.” Peter interrupted. But May was shaking her head, still speaking.
“No, no, you go swinging across the city right now, it will make things worse.”
“I can’t just do nothing, I-”
“I’m sure MJ and Ned are okay.”
Peter pulled suddenly away. Angry.
“You don’t KNOW that! Something happened to them, something bad, I…” Peter swallowed. The anger had come and gone in a flash. He was alarmed to feel tears welling in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Peter spoke the next words as calmly as possible. “I have to go.”
May reached out and took Peter’s hand again. He let her. She looked him in the eye and nodded.
“Okay.”
Peter felt a wave of relief.
“Okay?”
“Okay. Just…just get me and Happy down from here and we’ll meet you there.”
Peter frowned, the relief ebbing. But…he stopped and thought about it. Really thought about it. The truth was he wasn’t entirely sure he could make it to Ned’s house. And even if he did, he didn’t really know what was waiting for him there. Leaving May and Happy to get arrested would mean he would be on his own. No more failsafes.
“Okay, but we gotta be fast. I’ll have to carry you one at a time. Let me just…” Peter, still holding May’s hand, moved to scoop her up. It shouldn’t have been hard. A little awkward, sure, but it shouldn’t have been…
Peter felt an uncomfortable spasm ripple through his muscles. He stumbled. The air felt too thin.
“Peter?” May was suddenly supporting him, easing him down to his knees as a wave of exhaustion hit. She was running a hand through his hair, speaking fast but soft.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, lay down here, honey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just, uh, need to…catch my breath. That’s all…just catch my breath. I’m fine.”
“Okay, well, we’ll just take a moment. You’ll catch your breath. And then we’ll go.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
Peter nodded, briefly closing his eyes. He was fine. Just a little winded from the fight, muscles still recovering. He just needed a moment for his superpowers to kick in, for the adrenaline to really get going again.
He could…he could hear a child crying. Must be his imagination.
“Really, I-I’m fine, I’m-” A rough unexpected gasp escaped him. Almost like a sob. Peter leaned into May’s touch, her hand still carding through his hair.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“No.” May’s grip tightened unexpectedly. Her expression was fierce. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“This is all my fault. MJ and Ned are in danger and if I had just listened to Strange and let him send them back-”
“You did the right thing. They would have been killed. You did the right thing, Peter.”
Peter glanced away, thoughts adrift. That vague sense of regret was back. They would have been killed. By him. A different him but still him. Other Spider-Men. All of this was their responsibility, right? They…they were the ones that…screwed up and got people killed. Leaving Peter to try to fix it. Or maybe it wasn’t a screw up. Maybe all the other Peters knew something that this Peter didn’t. Maybe they knew…in the grand scheme of things…
Peter tightened his grip around May’s hand, holding it between them, looking at her again.
“I don’t think…it wasn’t my responsibility, May. I just-”
“No, no, Peter, you listen to me. Listen. If you had let Strange finish that spell, if you had let him kill those people when you had the power to stop him? …those deaths would have been on your head far more than anything that has happened here tonight. Do you hear me? You have a gift. You have power. And with that power…must also come great responsibility.”
The wind picked up. The air smelled of rain. Peter felt…the sense of regret lessened. Peter leaned in, pulling May closer, hugging her.
“I know.”
They held each other. Perhaps longer than they should have. Longer than was responsible. But not as long as Peter would have liked. All the same, Peter loosened his grip, mind turning.
“There’s just one little problem, May. What if I destroy the world?”
May pulled away, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“It could happen! Magic is messed up.”
Sighing, she pulled her hands from his and gripped his shoulders. She smiled. “You won’t destroy the world. I won’t let you.”
Peter nodded. He took a deep breath. Right. Simple as that. All Peter had left to do was pull himself together and be a superhero.
“Can you stand now?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.”
“Let’s go.”
May pulled Peter up. He still felt like crap. But it was a pain he could power through. Happy was standing to the side, looking away. Clearly he had been trying to give them some privacy. May let go of Peter’s hand.
“Take Happy down first. He’ll hot wire a car and we’ll meet you there.”
“Wait, what!?” Happy checked back into the conversation, stepping closer. “You want me to steal a car?”
“Yes. I want you to steal a car. I know you know how.”
“Of course I know how to hotwire a car, but never to-”
Peter spoke up. “No time, Happy. Don’t worry, we’ll give it back.” He took Happy’s arm and pulled him to the edge of the roof. Enough time had been wasted already.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” Happy muttered.
“Yes you can.” Pulling Happy into a tight embrace, Peter attempted and failed to offer an encouraging smile. “Hold on, okay? This is going to be a little scuffed.”
Happy frowned. “Scuffed? What does that mean exactly?”
Glancing back over his shoulder at May, Peter hesitated. “I’ll be right back.”
May nodded, waving them away.
“Peter? Peter, tell me what you mean. What are youuuaaaAHHH!”
Peter had already launched off the roof, taking Happy with him.
It wasn’t exactly easy getting Happy down to an isolated street. Avoiding the attention of the cops was priority. Okay, no it wasn’t. Not dropping Happy was priority. A more difficult task than Peter would ever admit to the man’s face. But avoiding attention was important.
Peter heard the approach of a helicopter. Cops were preparing to storm the building. Things were rapidly getting worse. When Happy accidentally wrapped a desperate arm around Peter’s neck, Peter just decided to hold his breath and go faster.
In just a few minutes, the awkward pair stumbled down to a side street on the next block over, both of them breathing heavily for…you know. Different reasons.
Happy pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, limbs shaking slightly. “Okay…right. I’ll just…steal a car now…I guess.” Despite looking totally freaked, Happy was already sizing up the few cars parked on the street around them.
“Great.” Peter gave Happy a thumbs up. “Be right back.”
“You better be!”
Jumping back into the air, blissfully free, Peter shot out a web to sling himself back to the condo.
The helicopter was circling the building. Residents were pouring out the doors at the bottom, half dressed, clutching their phones. They were probably doing a better job of spreading the story than the actual news reporters.
Peter didn’t care.
Soon he was sticking to the side of the building, avoiding the search of the helicopter. The glass looked black as obsidian, mirroring a chaotic mirage of emergency lights, people running, traffic starting to clog, a whirlpool of spot lights. Peter’s own unmasked reflection. He looked like shit.
Pushing it all aside, Peter started climbing up the building. But then he paused. There were vibrations in the glass. Well, of course there were. With all the noise and machinery and crowds. And yet…
The vibrations rippled through Peter and it felt like poison. Like physical dread seeping into his fingertips and filling up his spine. A tingle.
Standing straight up, perpendicular to the glass, Peter started to sprint. Almost leaping with each step, left, right, left, right…Peter let the rhythm take him. Shooting out a web at the perfect moment, he caught the lip of the roof right as it came within reach, pulling himself into a forward flip and landing squarely with both feet on the flat cement rooftop.
“May, lets go, the cops-”
Peter stopped. May wasn’t there. Somebody else was.
“Peter! Well. Thank goodness. I thought you had left without me.”
It was Doctor Osborn.
He was standing before Peter, looking decidedly worse for wear. He stepped forward with a heavy limp, his clothes torn and bloody. Peter could see metallic green body armor shining under the shredded purple hoodie. The armor Norman had been wearing on the bridge. He had never taken it off.
This was…Peter had not been expecting this.
“Doctor Osborn. You…disappeared. I-we thought you had left.” Technically a lie. The truth was Peter hadn’t thought about Norman at all. Peter would have felt bad about it if dread wasn’t still pooling in his spine.
Where was May?
Norman chuckled good naturedly, giving a weak shrug. “Max was gunning for my head almost as much as yours. I decided to step out for a bit.” Norman paused, his smile drifting into something far more calculating. He looked away thoughtfully. “…Not that it was necessary in the end. Such a shame. So much power and wielded by an idiot. I should have known Dillon wouldn’t have what it takes to kill you.”
Peter’s thoughts stalled. Contradicting feelings flooded him, all wrapped tightly around the enigmatic man in front of him. The almost gleeful smirk in Norman’s eyes, hiding behind a grim expression, wasn’t damning evidence by any stretch of the imagination. But…Peter squared his shoulders, taking a step back.
It had been a long night and Peter was tired of people messing with him. Raising his voice, even Peter was surprised by how cold his voice was as he spoke.
“Neither do you.”
The Green Goblin laughed.
The small amount of subterfuge the madman had gathered about himself fell away. Norman’s voice changed to something akin to barbed wire.
“You’re sharp, Peter. It’s why I like you. Still.” Norman or rather, the Goblin waved a hand in droll humor, stepping closer. The limp was gone. “I honestly thought you would figure it out sooner. I know, I shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, not even Norman realized it was me pulling the strings.”
Peter took another step back. Goblin had been…Peter had been so focused on the cures…the cures Norman helped make.
“I-”
“You honestly thought it was like a lightbulb? That you could just turn me off and forget about me?”
Any humor in the Goblin’s face vanished. He looked at Peter with an intense hatred. It was terrifying. Fortunately, fear was just one of the many things that got Peter’s mouth running.
Stepping to the side, Peter bounced on his heels as he talked, hands tightening into fists. “I’m kinda in a hurry so, if you're here to kill me too, maybe go start a club?”
“I don’t want to kill you, Peter!” The hatred disappeared, replaced by a smile once more. It was going to give Peter whiplash. The Goblin moved with Peter, deceptively casual. “I thought about it, of course. After everything that happened with my Peter…I was forced to take extreme measures. Can you believe it, I offered him a deal and he spat it back in my face? Clearly something had to be done.”
Peter shook his head, glancing quickly around, finding nothing and setting his gaze on the Goblin once more. This was bullshit. After everything that had happened, everything that was still happening!
“I don’t have time for this. Where’s May?”
Goblin shook a finger, scolding Peter like he was a child. “Peter, Peter, Peter. Already losing your things again? I can’t find everything for you.”
Peter shot out a sap of web with the speed of a bullet. It slammed against the Goblin’s ankle, causing him to stumble, sticking him to the concrete ground.
“Where’s May ?”
The Goblin sighed, seemingly not bothered. “Luckily for you, Peter, I’m willing to be patient. I knew right away that you and me? We weren’t going to work out. You’re foolish, weak. Wasting your time on pathetic freaks, ruining yourself all for some sickness people call morality. Letting her manipulate you…” The Goblin shook his head sadly. “You need help, Peter. Somebody who will teach you the way the world truly works.”
“I don’t need anything from you! You don’t want my help? Fine. Just stay out of my way!” Peter snapped in frustration, shooting another trap of web, hitting Goblin hard in the hip.
Adrenaline began to pump again, his spider sense dragging out each precious second. Not hesitating, Peter shot another web, sticking Goblin’s leg even further to the rooftop. And then another in the same spot. And then another and ano-
The Goblin tore his leg free in an instant, twisting to the side and slashing at the last spin of web as it tore past him. Three razor blades protruded from the green metal armor on his forearm. He gave Peter a nasty side eye but a smile still bloomed across the man’s face. It was almost…uncanny. A twisted wide smile, contrary to the murderous hate in the Goblin’s pale blue eyes.
“It’s too late, Peter. Your first lesson has already begun.” The Goblin raised his bladed arm, light reflecting off the wickedly sharp metal. “You want to turn me off? Then you need to stop. Holding. Back.”
They stood only seven or eight feet apart. A sharp breeze pulled at Peter’s hair. Other than that, the moment was perfectly still. Just this single moment. Peter thought of MJ, of Ned. He couldn’t fight now, he had barely been able to stand less than ten minutes ago. He needed to find May. They needed to leave. But…the cops were coming. He needed…he needed to-
Light burst around Peter, blinding him. The overwhelming noise of rotor blades cut through the air, deafening him. Dazed, squinting past the wash of light, Peter could barely make out a helicopter rising above them. So close, hovering in place, its spotlight pinning Peter to the roof like a bug pinned to a cork board.
Stunned, momentarily blind, Peter had nothing but instincts. Instincts that he listened to.
Peter ducked.
Something wooshed through the air above him with enough force to crack steel. Peter rolled away, his whole body tingling, the roll turning smoothly into a low crouch. Both legs wound tight beneath him, ready to leap into action and he rested a hand on the dusty ground, looking up.
The Green Goblin stood before Peter, silhouetted by the spotlight. Laughing again.
“That’s some neat trick, that sense of yours.” Goblin brandished his blades, now on both forearms, a grin almost splitting his face in half. “Does it work every time?”
There was no pause, no chance for Peter to answer. The Goblin was fast. Peter barely had time to dodge a sweep of Goblin’s blades, leaping to the side. Cutting it close. The swing left Goblin open enough for Peter to rush in, swinging a fist upward. The blow landed, knocking the Goblin clean off his feet. Peter tried for another hit when the Goblin rolled easily back up but the villain was ready this time. The Goblin caught Peter’s fist with one hand and punched Peter hard in the stomach with the other. Winded, Peter knew what was coming but couldn’t stop it.
Goblin stepped back enough to draw up his leg and front kick Peter right in the chest. It was like getting kicked by a bull. The world seemed to rush around Peter, every ounce of oxygen knocked out of his body.
It was only after the fact, weakly pushing himself up on an elbow from his position on the ground, that Peter realized he had just been knocked back to the opposite side of the roof. The brick and cement rail at the edge had stopped him from going straight off. Barely. Cracked stone falling off him, Peter dragged air back into his lungs.
Footsteps. Right behind him.
Rolling to the side, Peter saw an armored boot smash right through the cement rough top, right where Peter’s head had been seconds before.
“You're never going to win if you keep holding back, Peter. Not in your chosen career and certainly not against me.”
The Goblin loomed above Peter, lifting his leg free of the fucking hole he had just made. Raising a hand, Peter shot a web directly into the bastard’s face.
The Goblin reeled back. Peter was back on his feet, slamming a knee into the older man’s stomach. Shouting in irritation and pain, the Goblin tore the web free, taking some skin with it. Peter kicked hard at Goblin’s knee. It didn’t bend but Peter simply used the kick to leap up, grabbing the back of the Goblin’s neck and brace his knee against the Goblin’s shoulder. Peter punched the villain square in the temple.
Hard.
Peter had gotten a lot of hand-to-hand experience over the years. Mostly with muggers, a few brave ATM robbers. He had thought about getting lessons but the truth was, Peter was more worried about fighting too well. The nightmarish image of somebody’s head cracking like an egg under the full force of Peter’s strength had kept him up at night. It kept him playing it safe.
Now Peter had a new image to keep him up at night. The Goblin, face covered in blood, laughing.
Peter pulled back his arm to hit the mad man again. To hit even harder. The Goblin caught Peter’s wrist, his crushing grip grinding Peter’s bones together. Twisting Peter’s arm back painfully, Goblin wrenched Peter off him and-
THUD!
The Goblin slammed his head forward, landing a headbutt powerful enough to cause Peter’s whole world to black out. Peter stumbled, somehow managing to stay on his feet. Blood sluggishly dripped out of his nose. His vision swam back slowly. Too slowly.
“You just aren’t listening to me, Peter. And it’s almost time’s up. I have bigger fish to fry. A whole new world to conquer! At least there’s still one last lesson I can leave you with.”
The light was so bright. Noise other than the Goblin’s sharp sadistic voice filled the cold air but all of it was just white noise. Meaningless. The Goblin’s hand grabbed the front of Peter’s suit, pulling him close. His barbed wire voice became raspy and razor thin.
“You wanted to fix me? Like I would ever let that happen. I’m going to fix you, Peter.”
Peter’s vision finally came fully into focus. He was inches away from the Goblin. From Norman. From a man that somehow managed to scare Peter despite everything that Peter has ever faced, everything that he has experienced…And after everything that Peter had done for him. For all of them! Men that were sentenced to die and for damn good reasons. Everything Peter had sacrificed …it wasn’t fair.
Don’t hold back? Fine.
Peter took a deep breath. Prepared himself. And then-
Peter pulled free. The Goblin reached out, trying to grab him again but Peter was already moving. Fast. He spun, twisting with every ounce of strength he had, slamming an elbow into the Goblin’s jaw. Blood spurted out of the older man’s mouth and across the ground.
And then Peter stopped. He braced himself solidly on both legs. No dodging, no leaping away, not this time. The Goblin swung down with his bladed arm and Peter knocked it away, punching Goblin in the throat. A stunning blow. Drawing together all his strength and speed, Peter punched the Goblin square in the chest.
The armor cracked.
The Goblin slammed back, hitting the roof access and crashing to the ground. There was a thin crack straight through the center of his chest piece. Peter moved to kick his foe in the face, knock him out cold. Finish this. But…
The Goblin had collapsed amongst the remains of the small wall. Holding up a shaking hand. A hand that still had Happy’s careful bandaging around it. The older man was coughing, wheezing, hunched over in pain.
“I can’t-I can’t…I…” The words were gasped, barely audible.
It sounded…it sounded like the man could barely breathe. Blood pounded in Peter’s head. He felt a million things all at once, all of it a jumble. But the single thought he scraped together was clear.
What have I done?
Peter dropped to a knee, reaching out.
“Can you breathe? Just hol-”
The worst mistakes always happen in those blurred moments in our lives where we act without thought. Where we do something automatically, something we’ve done a million times before. Something that doesn’t feel significant. Until our thoughts catch up with us. Until we realize that what we feel and what is true…rarely coincide.
Peter didn’t even really get that realization. It happened too fast.
Peter saw the blood before he felt the pain. Blood all over the concrete around him. Thrown from a deep wound sliced through his arm.
A hand wrapped around Peter’s throat.
“Guess it doesn’t work every time. Just a cheap trick. Hehehe...hehe.” The low wheezing chuckle of a pained sadistic voice. “I know more than a thing or two about those myself.”
Peter could feel hot breath on his face. He saw a blade, coated in blood. It dropped to the ground. A hand still crushed Peter’s windpipe, dragging the superhero up as the Goblin slowly stood. His smile was monstrous.
“So…close. I really thought you had made a breakthrough, Peter. But you’re still weak.” The Goblin’s grip squeezed, tight enough to crack a different man’s spine. The pain was unbearable. Blood rushed down Peter’s side. “But I’m not totally without mercy. I’ll give you another chance. Soon. And in the meanwhile...”
The Goblin was dragging Peter. Peter couldn’t resist, couldn’t move. Could barely feel his own body anymore. The pressure at his throat suddenly disappeared. He was dropped, landing hard on his side. Breath burned its way back into his lungs. His head was resting in a pool of sticky blood.
“No good deed goes unpunished, Peter. You can thank me later.”
There was the roar of an engine, very close. A cackle of laughter that rose and then cut suddenly away. Peter listened. And kept listening. It took a minute for Peter to realize that he was alone. The Goblin was gone.
Peter was on the edge of blacking out. The very edge. But he didn’t fall. Barely even able to remember why he did it, Peter fought back. He had too. Peter forced himself back together. The numbness, sadly, slipped away but the pain was…bearable. He could hear the helicopter close by. Gulping in deep breaths, shaking, Peter gathered together the sense to wrap a hand tight around his sliced arm. The blood was hot between his fingers.
It was over.
The cut was deep. Possibly all the way down to the bone. Peter didn’t want to look to be sure. If he looked, he would throw up, he just knew it. But it didn’t matter. The Goblin was gone. Peter would live. It didn’t cut through the bone. And the blood flow was already beginning to slow, even with just Peter’s hand wrapped tight around the wound. He just needed to get up, find help. Happy was waiting with a stolen car far below.
Waiting for them.
Peter looked down. There was a thick black blood pool beneath him. Large. It was…it was too large. Peter was lightheaded, yes, but not dangerously so. If this blood had come from him, surely he would be dead. He reached out with his injured arm, touching it. Cold blood soaked into his glove. It was still wet but only just. Only through the sheer volume of it. Sticky, cold…and there was just so much. Peter followed it, tracking its source, head slowly turning.
There, only a foot away, was a hand. An arm. A body. The blood had come from the body, pooling around it. So much blood.
Peter swallowed. He reached out to the limp body, brushing back familiar hair from a lifeless face.
“May?”
Her eyes were open. Brown eyes. But she didn’t meet Peter’s gaze. There was a deep wound, right beneath her heart.
“May?”
He took her hand, holding it to his cheek. It was cold.
“No, no, no…May!”
She was on the other side of the roof access from where Peter had arrived. All the light and shadows and…he-he hadn’t looked around closely enough. He had just assumed…that she was okay. That she would always be okay.
…but this whole time. She was dea-
“MAY! May, no, no, no, May, please be okay! I’ll get help, people are coming, just talk to me! May, please!”
What have I done?
Peter didn’t stop talking. He had no idea what he was saying but whatever it was, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t cry. He held his aunt. He held her while there was the thunder of footsteps. While, somewhere, a door slammed. He held her through the shouting, the flash lights, the clicking of guns. Peter was still holding her when a hand reached out and touched his shoulder.
Looking up, Peter found himself face to face with a SWAT mask. Tears finally spilled down his cheeks.
“She’s…I can’t help her.”
The SWAT mask shook slowly. A hand reached out and took May’s hand away.
“I know, kid…I’m sorry. Come on. You can’t stay here.”
No. He couldn’t.
Peter held on a second longer. Held her close. But it didn’t matter. She was gone. Everything that had happened, everything that Peter had done.
What was it all for? For this?
Peter let go. It was time to go. Closing his eyes, Peter picked a direction and ran.
“Kid, wait! Spider-Man!”
There was shouting. A gunshot went off. None of it touched Peter. He was gone. Lost in memories of May. Of magic. Of a long day and an even longer night that, at this point, felt like it would never end. One last thought led Peter on.
MJ.
It began to rain and soon, Peter was lost in that too.
Tragedy.
What else can I call it? What more need be said? The damage, the destruction. You saw it with your own eyes. When will people wake up and realize that everywhere Spider-Man goes, chaos and calamity ensue. Everything Spider-Man touches comes to ruin. And we, the innocents, are left to pick up the pieces.
Jonah Jamison reporting. Good night.
And God help us all.