A/N: Spider-Man is the property of Marvel Comics. Owned and created by Mr. Stan Lee and Mr. Steve Ditko. I wish I was Stan Lee.

Warnings: OOC, heavy use of language, violence, and so on. Not associated with commonly known Spider-Man or general Marvel storylines such as Civil War, House of M, Age of Apocalypse, Ultimate Marvel. That sort of thing. Sorry.

Also, I don't know if these waters are unchartered, but let's just say...that this story adds up to the day Hell froze over.

Spider-Man/Peter Benjamin Parker held his beloved Mary Jane Watson-Parker in his arms. She was broken. Bloodied.

Murdered.

He let out a vicious yell.

First Uncle Ben, now MJ? Why the hell can't I protect the ones I LOVE?!

He called an ambulance and changed into some street clothes to cover up his Spider-Man costume. What happened was that MJ was coming downstairs from her and Peter's bedroom and unknowingly getting a glimpse of the burglar as he committed his crime. She tried to head back upstairs, only to be shot down twice out of the criminal's panic.

Spider-Man was coming home from stopping the latest robbery. And intervening some street justice being meted out. By the Punisher. Of course, despite understanding the motivation of his war, Peter had to physically persuade Castle not to kill these guys.

"The 'eye for an eye' method will never get you anywhere, Castle. One of these days, revenge is going to take you off of the deep end."

Castle replied by spitting at Peter, letting it hit his mask.

Coming home, that's when he saw the burglar runnng frantically. The webslinger managed to catch up with him and web him up on a lamppost.

When the coroners and the cops left, after asking neighbors questions and Peter himself as well, Peter went upstairs and took his clothes off as well as his red-and-blue suit as well. He looked into the back of his closet and found it.

The infamous black suit.

But it wasn't the symbiote. Peter knew all too well about the influence of the symbiote's power. That's why he made a replica but never wore it unless the time called for it.

Because with the black suit, Peter created a new feature to go along with the suit: web-shooters that contained black webbing. Also, this black suit was also something similar to his time on Counter Earth. Sonic weapons strong enough to combat the Symbiotes, stealth mode, etc. The black webbing was tweaked to be stronger.

But there was no better time to use it....

And so, two years later after MJ's funeral on the anniversary of Uncle Ben's death, Peter grabbed the suit and put it on....

"You wanna play with me?! Let's play!!" snarled Spidey to no one.

The webhead let out a web and swung into the night, heading straight for Ryker's Island, where the burglar was at.

Using his stealth mode to sneak inside and webbing up security cameras, Spidey found the cell of his wife's killer. He ripped the bars apart as the criminal looked shocked.

"Y-y-you!"

Saying nothing, Spider-Man grabbed the dumbfounded killer, webbing his mouth shut....

Top of some unknown skyscraper...

The criminal, identified as Rogan Hibbits, begged for mercy as Peter viciously punched him about.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time!" yelled Spidey. "Why'd you kill her?!"

"I-I-I-I was scared...I didn't wanna go back to jail...."

"Well, that's too bad. Because you ended up behind bars. But don't worry, I've got something much better than that..."

"W-what are you talking about?" asked Hibbits.

Peter slowly pulled off his mask.

"No! No way! It can't be you! You're Spider-Man?"

Peter had an icy tone.

"Yeah. I am. And now that you know my secret..."

The webslinger picked up Hibbits by the front of his shirt, walking slowly to the edge of the building as images began to ravage his mind.

Peter's post-fight lecture to the Punisher.

Uncle Ben's funeral.

Peter hugging Aunt May.

M.J's funeral.

Peter's final battle with the Green Goblin.

His time with the Venom symbiote.

And he screamed as his eyes appeared determined.

"And so you're gonna take it...to the grave!"

And Spider-Man, who had come close it before, did the unthinkable as his hands let go of Rogan Hibbits, who fell 70 feet to his doom. Peter took short breaths as he pounded his fist into his hands...

Hell had just frozen over New York City.