Brace yourselves, this is a bit darker than usual. Also, minor spoilers for Age of Ultron. - Darthkvzn
There are many theories in the Internet surrounding who the Spider-Man is. Being the responsible sort-of-adult that I am, I check them all out. They're mostly filled with crackpots, but you never know when someone's been following you around, waiting to snap a picture of you changing into your Spider-skivvies.
Most people believe I use a mask so the authorities won't catch me. While, at the start, that might've been part of the reason, it no longer bears any truth. New York's finest know better than to consider me a criminal now, and the late George Stacy played no small part in ensuring my freedom in working with law enforcement. Though there'll always be the odd one or two stick-in-the-muds that don't like that the police work with a vigilante, they are severely outnumbered. I hear even the mayor likes me, these days.
There are other theories of course. Gwen and I keep a list of our favorites; there's the one about my face being horribly disfigured. Maybe I have weird, arachnid eyes, or venomous spit. Like I said, crazy, cuckoo people come with the territory. Thankfully, the vast majority stay online.
It's because of the ones that don't that I wear a mask. If it was just me, I wouldn't hesitate to sport my Parker grin to every fight. Heck, at least I would be able to properly convey vital facial expressions, like eye-rolling and disgust.
The fact of the matter is, I'm not alone. I have an aunt to take care of, who works extra hours just to make ends meet, never mind living comfortably. I have a best friend in the form of a previous bully, who I'd no longer wish any harm upon. And of course, I have a darling girlfriend I dream of marrying someday, way in the future, assuming I don't die horribly in a hero-related accident.
I'd love to tell you my identity is as airtight as a space-rated Ziploc bag, but it's really not. I'm aware of it. S.H.I.E.L.D. figured it out quickly enough. Captain Stacy forced it out of me. My first supervillain figured it out when I stupidly left behind my camera to photograph his beastly form.
I'm pretty sure my Aunt knows, but we skirt around the subject so much, I can only assume.
Worse still, I knew my fears were not without basis. A couple of months before I met Captain America, the C.E.O. of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts, and, most importantly, Tony Stark's girlfriend, was targeted by a terrorist organization, and injured in an attempt on her life. It never even was about her. They did it to get at Iron Man, to crumble his resolve; I just didn't expect it to get at me, too. The incident was largely publicized, and it raised a ton of questions, of whether the life of a superhero was truly viable, or even necessary. Many psychologists were of the opinion that the tendency to sacrifice oneself for the greater good created sociopaths, who never again could fit into society at large. Very grim stuff. Nothing, of course, compared to the damn Clock Tower incident.
To spare you the boring stuff, a brief summary: after seeing the dangers of hero relationships, I stupidly decided to break up with my girlfriend, regardless of her conscious and informed choice to stay in my life, danger or not. I unwittingly managed to worsen a mentally ill man's condition, giving motive, if not rise, to a very powerful supervillain. Add to that estranging my long time friend, even with a good motive, creating yet another supervillain, and you have the second worst week in Peter Parker's life. No need for seasoning.
It all climaxed in a fight to the death with the self-dubbed Electro, where I barely managed to beat him by overcharging him like a battery. All thanks to my failed experimentation, and Gwen's insanely specific knowledge of the city's power grid. I thought I'd won. Gwen had thought so, too.
Then came the mad cackles of my former best friend.
Maybe if I'd given him my blood, I'd have stemmed this situation before it escalated. Maybe I should've trusted him to do the right thing before he went into 'desperate times...' mode.
Maybe I shouldn't have tried to get back with Gwen.
Even in his deranged state, Harry figured who Spider-Man was nearly instantaneously. And, almost in the same time frame, he decided to get revenge for my refusal to help him by taking it out on my girlfriend. Cue another fight to the death.
I defeated him. Knocked him out like a light, all while keeping Gwen relatively safe. It took all my concentration and effort, but I managed it. Or, at least, I thought I had. Of course the fricking web didn't hold when I most needed it too.
I saw it all in slo-mo, my mind calculating the physics I'd have to pull off in order to save her. The math was not in my side, much like my luck. Foot by foot, she was getting closer to unsaveable territory, and the only way to save her would likely have her hating me for it.
I preferred a Gwen alive to loathe me, to a Gwen dead for loving me.
I shot a web at her sternum, smack-dab in the middle of her chest. If I'd had more time, I'd have shot at her center of mass, to prevent the risk of snapping her neck in the bounce back. With how far we'd already fallen, I didn't have that luxury, and I knew it. A split-second decision. The tip of the web, accelerating faster than either of us were falling, clung to her chest, and I pulled back with all my might.
She still hit the floor, with a sickening crunch.
I stared at her form, dangling from my web, while hanging from my own. The fear had hit my gut with a delayed effect, but I knew the next few seconds were crucial. She wasn't moving, but I knew I had to. Securing her web-string to the other one, I went down, landing hard, and probably spraining an ankle. For all I knew and cared, I'd broken it.
I felt my eyes water, refusing to admit what they were seeing. Her chest stayed still, and I felt my world end, right then and there. Taking my mask off, I gingerly cut the string, laying her on my lap, hugging her and sputtering out her name between choked sobs.
Then I felt it. The warm air past my ear. Soft, to be sure, but still, there. My eyes bulged out, and I looked at her, frantically taking off my glove so I could feel a pulse.
I'd never been so happy in my life to feel a heartbeat.
Gwen was alive for the moment. That's all I could think, all that my mind seemed able to process in that moment. She hadn't died, and my world was still intact, even if it was barely holding on by a thread.
I set her down on the ground, shaking my head almost as strongly as my hands were trembling. I had to snap out of it soon, or my relief would not last long. I tried to think about my options. I couldn't move her, so I couldn't take her anywhere. Waiting for an ambulance was too slow, and thus completely out of the question. I was just a moment shy of a frustrated scream when I recalled the Captain's card.
I would sell my soul to the devil if it would save Gwen. For an angel? I would give it all.
Taking Gwen's phone out of her jacket, I dialled the only number I knew by memory, outside of 911.
-"Hello, this is May Parker speaking." -answered my aunt, and I could've kissed her right then and there.
-"Aunt May, it's Peter. I need you to do something very important, please." -I said urgently.
-"Peter? What are you doing with Gwen's phone?" -she asked worriedly. "She's here Aunt May. She's dying, and I need your help." -I said. I heard a choked gasp on the other end of the line.
-"Dying? Peter, what's going on?" -she asked, her voice mounting into a panic.
-"I need you to listen very carefully. I want you to go to my room, break down the door however you can, and go into my closet." -I instructed. I heard a brief 'ok', followed by sounds of hurried movement. One, two, three loud hitting noises later, I heard my aunt's labored breathing again.
-"Ok, I'm in. Jesus, Pete, why do you need this much security?" -she asked.
-"You're about to find out, Aunt May. I need you to look into the first costume on your right, and fish a card out of the interior pocket in the left boot." -I said, regardless of my inner voice screaming at me to shut up. Sure enough, a second gasp was heard, followed by quick sounds of ruffling. "I...I got it Peter. It's a card with the name Steven Grant Rogers. This...is Captain America's number?" -she asked, her voice wavering. My respect for my aunt went several notches up. She was handling this like a trooper.
-"Yeah. I need you to give me that number right away." -I said, and she did as she was asked. I couldn't afford to wait any longer, so I hung up, immediately dialing the other number.
-"Spider-Man, are you ok? What's going on in New York? There's a lot of…" -he started. My gut went down immediately again. He wasn't in the city? Had I just doomed Gwen by doing this?
-"Captain, sir, I need your help. I'm...ok. But my girlfriend isn't. She's very hurt, and I don't know what to do. I can't move her! Please, I can't let her d-die!" -I said, stammering at the end. I'm not ashamed to admit I was crying again at that point.
-"Just calm down, son. I'm sending help your way, immediately. Just don't shoot when you see us, ok?" -he half asked, half ordered. I was about to ask what he meant when my Spidey-sense warned me that something was happening at my 9 o' clock.
I can't exactly describe what I saw. It was a beautiful, yet terrifying vortex of red and black, as if the air had spontaneously decided it wanted to become a tiny, angry black hole. From it, a beautiful, dark haired woman emerged, flanked by a man in a vaguely familiar suit of powered armor at her right, and the welcome sight of a blond man with an iconic shield.
The vortex dissipated, and the woman fell to the ground, gasping. The man in the armor, now identified as War Machine, tended to her, while the Captain immediately ran to us.
-"Tell me what's the situation." -he ordered immediately. I described it as best as I could with a cracking voice. He knelt down, checking for life signs. When he winced, I felt the fear rise in my throat.
-"I won't lie to you, she's in a bad way. But I think we can help her out." -he said, then turned to the woman, who was barely getting back on her feet. "Wanda, can you get us back to base?" -he asked. The woman scowled, shaking her head in the negative. "Best I can do is place a stasis charm on her and teleport somewhere nearby." -she said with a thick, eastern European accent.
The Captain considered this for a moment, rubbing his chin. He then tapped his ear. "Vision, tell Tony he's got incoming. Critically wounded, and in need of immediate attention." -he said. He then nodded at the woman, the one they called Wanda, who came up, and looked me in the eyes. "I will not let her die. This, I swear." -she said, solemnly. I nodded, and she turned to Gwen, her eyes turning a deep, burning scarlet. A shimmering red veil surrounded Gwen's body, and, like before, a maelstrom of red and black engulfed them, transporting them somewhere else.
Whatever happened next, I had no control over, but I still felt the guilt and worry eating me away. I felt a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at Captain America's smiling face.
-"Don't worry son. Stark has some of the best medical facilities and personnel in the world in the tower. Plus, a girl like her? She's a fighter. She'll make it." -he said, and I couldn't help but give a tiny chuckle at the truth of that statement.
-"How'd you know?" -I asked. He laughed good-naturedly. "Being the Spider-Man's girlfriend? Your girl has to be a trooper. It's practically in the job description." -he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I covered my face in embarrassment, feeling my bare face. Then it hit me.
-"Oh, crud. The mask…" -I said, nervous. The Captain held up a hand, giving it to me. "No worries, son. Until you're up for a good talk, none of us saw a thing." -he said, and War Machine nodded his assent. These were good people, that much I knew. They were Avengers, and even if the media was not very happy with them after the Sokovia debacle a couple of weeks ago, I knew their hearts were in the right place. It wasn't all that hard a decision, in the end.
-"There's...no need for that. I'm Peter. Peter Parker." -I said, the words feeling alien to me while wearing the suit. I held up a hand. "Nice to meet you. And thank you." -I said shakily. He smiled, returning the handshake.
-"It's nice to meet you too, Peter. I'm Steve Rogers, but please, call me Steve." -he said, and for the first time since this nightmare of an evening started, I felt a little more relaxed.
The heavy metal footsteps of War Machine reached us, and he, too, shook my hand. "Colonel James Rhodes, at your service. Though Rhodey is fine for conversation." -he said, smiling. I nodded, committing it to memory. "Why does my scanner say there's someone at the top of the tower?" -he asked.
To be honest, I'd forgotten all about Harry.
-"Because there is." -I said, my voice tight. Steve glanced at Rhodey's eyes worriedly. "Did he cause this?" -he asked cautiously. I nodded, gritting my teeth. War Machine flew up before either of us could say a thing. After a few sounds of scuffle, he came back down, holding tightly a snarling Osborn.
-"Face recog's having some trouble, but he looks kind of like that Osborn kid." -he said. Harry's eyes bulged out and he actually growled, spit spilling everywhere from his manic grin.
-"OSBORN IS DEAD! DEAD, DEAD, LIKE THE BITCH WHO HIT HER HEAD! OHHH, I'VE BEEN A BAD-"
I stopped him. With my fist. I'd never felt this angry in my life, not even when trying to catch Uncle Ben's killer. Steve looked at me, trying to ascertain if I'd do something more drastic, but he seemed satisfied when I made no further moves. Rhodey pulled out some heavy duty cuffs from a compartment in the armor, slapping them on Harry's wrists, then carelessly tossing him to the floor.
The roar of a jet engine came over us, and a Quinjet hovered a couple of yards above ground. Out of it came a man with red and grey vest and red goggles, and a redheaded woman in a black bodysuit. Steve gestured at me to go. "Get to the tower. Be with your girlfriend. We'll take care of Osborn, then join you there. And Peter? You did great." -he said. I nodded, walking over to the VTOL. The woman smirked, and the man smiled broadly.
-"Hi, Peter, I'm Natasha, and this is Sam. We have...good news and bad news. Your girlfriend, she's out of critical condition." -she said, and I nearly fainted in relief.
There were, however, bad news.
Not gonna lie, that cliffhanger is pretty evil. Every time I've seen something Spider-Man related, there's this tendency towards mood whiplash. It'll be happy and optimistic, then a tragedy will turn the story dark. This, I think, covers that aspect. I couldn't kill off Gwen. I've never liked Mary Jane, and the chemistry shown in the movies convinced me that she should survive. Whether she comes out of this unscathed or not, though...is a spoiler. So you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. I get that Gwen's death is supposed to be a powerful motivator, and a driving force behind Peter's paranoia in regard to his identity, and his general behavior. I think I can achieve that without condemning one of my favorite characters to death. I hope you'll agree with me.
By the way, this story is almost done. One more chapter, then we move on to a sequel. Not bad for something supposed to be a oneshot, don't you think? Shoot me a review, if you'd be so kind! I'd like to see this bombshell's aftermath :D - Darthkvzn