Part Four

May heard a knock on the door. She rose from the couch worried and holding back tears, afraid for what the future held. "I'm coming, hold on a second." She prayed it was Ben and that he had been able to cut through to Peter.

"Hello?" She asked as she opened the door surprised to find a young and beautiful redhead standing outside her door.

"Is this the Parker residence?" She asked timidly.

May nodded, "Yes it is."

"Is Peter here? I'm Mary Jane Watson."

May shook her head, "No, Peter's not here." She shrugged regretfully, "I don't know when he'll be home."

"Oh." MJ turned her head for a moment to look down the street. When she did, a cut along her neck was revealed to May.

"You're bleeding." She said surprised.

MJ shrugged and backed away slightly, "Its nothing." She sighed realizing that nothing she could say would make the cut go away, "I shouldn't have come here."

May shook her head, "Nonsense. Come inside, let me have a look at it."

"I don't want to be a bother." MJ replied.

"Its no bother." May said lovingly, "Any friend of Peter's is a friend of mine." She gestured towards the interior of her home, "Come on in."

Ben was driving through the streets looking for Peter. It was a maze of building and alleys, and his nephew could be in any one of them. "Where are you, Pete?"

Suddenly the cell phone in his right pocket began to ring and Ben quickly reached for it, "Yeah?" He said as soon as he had it against his ear.

"Its me, May." She quickly said, "A friend of Peter's just told me that she had heard Harry and a bunch of other people would be going to the wrestling ring on Ren Street tonight."

"That's only twenty minutes away from our house!" Ben commented, "It's the only lead I got right now. I'll drop by there and see what's up, call me if Peter shows up."

"Be careful, Ben." May commented, "He's our boy, I want him back home safe and sound."

Ben nodded with a certain determination in his eyes, "I promise."

The fight promoter sighed heavily as he handed Peter, now wearing his street clothes, the prize money, "Sixty, eighty, and one hundred. There that's the last of it." He said as he put the last stack of money into Peter's bag with a great degree of reluctance, "I don't know how you did it."

Peter shrugged, "Well, you know how it is? One day you get bitten by a spider and the next you're picking up trees."

"Funny." He responded, "Now get out of my sight, lousy kids, taking all my money."

Peter looked one last time into his duffel bag. His costume had been stuffed to one side opposite of the piles of hundred and twenty dollar bills that equaled the whopping amount of two thousand dollars.

Just as Peter left he bumped into a man entering the office, "Excuse me." The man said sounding somewhat tense.

"You're excused." Peter arrogantly replied after leaving the office. He couldn't help but smile at the events of the day. Things really looked like they were turning around in his favor. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button calling for the lift to come to his floor.

"Open the safe!" A voice called out from the promoter's office. "I said now!"

The promoter stood up as if suddenly sure of himself, "I just called security! You better run while you can!"

The other voice behind the door sounded enraged and hit the man with the butt of the weapon. He suddenly emerged from the office and made a run for the elevator that Peter was standing beside.

The promoter stumbled out, his face full of blood, "Stop that guy! Stop him!"

Peter raised an eye, "I'll tell the next person I see to do just that." He said leaning against the wall.

The lift doors opened and the Burglar leaped in, "Damn it!" He said of the promoter smashing has hand against one of the buttons. "Ruined everything." The Burglar's plan had failed; he'd have to fall back on his second idea. The doors slowly closed and saved him from the promoter who clumsily made his way towards the door.

"Why didn't you stop him?" The promoter asked leaning against the elevator doors wearily just as guards began to show up on the floors via the staircases.

"Why?" Peter shrugged apathetically, "I only look out for number one from now on, that means me. If you have a problem with that guy that's hardly a concern of mine."

The promoter shook his head in disgust, "If that's your attitude, kid, then you're going to be in for a big surprise when you need help." He turned away walked towards the guards already gathering around his office.

Peter laughed sarcastically and shook his head, "Me? Need help. Not likely, I'm Spider-Man."

The moment Peter left the building his eyes widened at the sight that awaited him outside. He was shocked and stunned at the same time and couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. "Uncle Ben?"

The old man stood outside the door, his expression cold, "Hey, Pete." He pointed towards the car, "Get in the car. We need to talk."

"Just my luck." Peter remarked as he followed Ben towards the parked car on the sidewalk.

It had been a long and depressing drive. The car eventually reached their home. Despite, Peter's initial impressions the ride was utterly silent with him and Ben too afraid and perhaps stubborn to say the first words.

Once they turned the corner, Ben immediately noticed something was wrong, "What the hell?"

"This is what we think happened." The police officer named O'Hare told Ben and Peter as they stood in the living room of their home. "The perpetrator had been eyeing the house for a couple of days, a week at the most."

Cops continuously moved in and out. Peter spotted a startled Mary Jane speaking to the officers in the kitchen. His eyes were full of water and at any moment he thought he would begin weeping uncontrollably. Ben looked no better.

"The guy decides to make his move and knocks on the front door." O'Hare took a deep breath, "May Parker opens up the front door and he storms in." He turned his head towards Peter, "From what your friend said, your aunt put up a hell of a fight. Unfortunately, he decides he's had enough and shoots her once in the chest."

Peter gazed at the ambulance with Aunt May's dead body out of their window. His heart felt cold and heavy like his chest could no longer support it. The room seemed to spin every now and then.

O'Hare tipped his cap, "Realizing he's made a mistake, he panics and runs back out and uses a getaway car he probably had ready to go." He looked at Ben and then the nephew for a moment realizing what an impact this had made on them, "If it's any comfort, we don't think she suffered."

Ben took a deep breath, "Did you catch him?"

"We have units looking for him right now." O'Hare responded before clasping his hands together, "Do you need a priest or anything, we have one on call if you need some sort of religious help."

"No." Ben responded, "Not right now." He seemed to be staring off into space but it was obvious his mind was racing a million miles a minute.

O'Hare suddenly frowned as chatter began to come through on his radio, "Tell me what we've got?" He said turning away slowly.

An officer on the other line immediately responded, "We have him, he's headed for the old warehouse by Chambers Street. Units are en route."

Peter's eyes become cold and stony as he heard the name come through the radio. He stood up suddenly and ran up the stairwell towards his room.

Ben gazed at Peter as he left and then back to O'Hare, "He'll be fine." The officer assured him, "Sometimes these kids just need a moment alone to come to grips with what's happened."

"I see." Ben said as if on a distant world. Suddenly he snapped to life, "Watch Peter and his friend for me. There's somebody I have to go and tell about this."

"Sure." The officer replied.

Ben stomped out of the house and moved towards his car, "Chambers street." He told himself angrily. He opened the door and entered the old car angrily. Once inside he gazed around to make sure there were no cops around him. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out his revolver. He made sure the gun was loaded and with a face full of anger and determination he started the engine and pushed on the gas.

Peter in his own room opened his duffel bag. He immediately swiped the money inside away and pulled out his costume without hesitation. "Chambers street." He repeated the name making sure he remembered it.

He pulled the body of the costume over him, "How could this have happened." He asked in shock. He now reached for the mask and put it over his head. "I'll make whoever's responsible pay." He finished putting the rest of the costume over himself and gazed out the window, his face full of tears but angry, "I swear."

Ben careened down the streets of New York in his car, ignoring red lights and speed limits. He was fueled by anger and outrage. He had no idea what he would do later, now that he was alone, but he knew what he'd do now.

Unbeknownst to Ben, mere rooftops above him, his nephew was on a similar mission. He leaped across the roofs performing a dazzling series of maneuvers along the way. Peter remembered a time when he was powerless and afraid. Since the bite, he thought things would be fine, that nothing could touch him. He thought he was a God.

Now reality had hit, and what a hit it was. In Peter's mind there was nothing left, he didn't care anymore, about Flash, about the money, about Gwen. None of it mattered anymore.

Peter reached a ledge that overlooked a much larger street. He couldn't simply jump to the next roof; he'd never make it. It was then that he spotted the flagpole. Without a second thought he made the leap. He stretched his arms and made contact with the pole. He made a couple flips with the pole gaining speed every flip and then released. Peter flew across the sky and landed on a building several rooftops away. "Keep moving, Pete! Don't stop!"

"Damn." Ben said as he came within walking distance of the warehouse he could see cops already had the entrance surrounded. "There has to be another way in." He commented.

It was then that Ben spotted a back entrance along an alley. He nodded and parked the car in the shadows, out of the sight of the police. He readied his revolver and slipped into the alley. He walked along the wall holding his weapon close to his chest. His hand gripped the handle of the door and pulled it open. It was unlocked.

Ben clenched his teeth and slipped through no longer thinking about anything besides what he'd do once he had May's murderer in his sights.

Peter landed on the ledge of a building overlooking the warehouse where his target was held up inside. He could hear gunshots being traded back and forth between the killer and the police. Eventually the cops would win, but Peter wanted a piece of him. This was personal.

The killer was on the first floor held up behind several crates and used them as cover. Peter spotted a glass window on the second floor; from there he could approach his enemy on his own terms.

He flew across the air like an avenging angel. He was no longer fueled by rational thought or even the power granted to him, now the only thing that kept him going was adrenaline.

Peter smashed through the window and rolled across the floor and stopping once he got both his feet in a braking position. He slowly stood up and gazed at his surroundings. The warehouse was dark and old with a smell that reminded Peter of weight socks. The wooden boards creaked under his weight. He saw a stairwell leading down to the lower floor, to May's killer.

"I could go down those stairs, but he'd be waiting for me the moment I showed up." Suddenly the answer came to him. Peter looked down at the wooden boards just below him, bent down and raised his fist. "Don't mess up, Pete." He smashed straight through the wooden floor with a mighty blow. The floor broke out under him and Peter fell through with it.

Peter gracefully landed on the floor with his arms clenched and stretched out ready for one of the most important fights of his life.

The killer stood by the window and turned around as soon as he heard the crash. He looked at the debris in shock and then to Peter who stood above it like the phoenix rising from the ashes. "What the hell are you?"

"Murderer!" Peter screamed out and leapt for the killer. Immediately his opponent opened let loose with a volley of gunfire.

"Get back!" The killer demanded out of fear. "Get back, damn you!"

Peter dodged the bullets as they zipped across the air. He closed the distance with a few spectacular flips and smacked the pistol straight out of the killer's hand.

"Oh man!" He remarked about his rapidly deteriorating situation. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and swung desperately trying to inflict any sort of damage on his enemy.

Peter bent backwards avoiding the first swipe of the knife and jumped over the killer in a simple leaping motion dodging a second attack from the killer. Once he landed behind him, Peter elbowed the killer in the back. The blow sent him sliding across the floor and he crashed into a pile of crates.

Peter screamed furiously as tears streamed down his face. He moved towards the debris and found he and the killer, and were both shrouded by black shadows. After pulling pieces of wood out of his way he grabbed the killer by his shirt and lifted him, "So, you like killing old women? Was it fun?" He threw the killer against a support beam and advanced mercilessly. "How about now, are you having fun? Huh? Answer me!"

"Please don't kill me. I'm sorry about the old lady, just don't kill me!" The killer begged for his life like all cowards do when faced with the consequences of their reckless actions.

Peter clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the killer, "I'll rip you apart!" He pushed him into the light, "Put up your fists."

"No!" The killer begged.

Peter's face became red with rage, "I said put up your fists!" He roared. It was then that he suddenly saw the face of the killer. His eyes widened in shock, "No."

The face that stared back at him was that of the burglar that Peter had allowed to escape at the wrestling arena. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "I-I let you get away." Peter said in shock and slowly backed away, "No. Not this. Let it be anyone but you!"

Despite Peter's pleas the face didn't change and he was forced to deal with the cold hard facts. The burglar took advantage of the moment and managed to pick up his pistol while Peter was in a moment of utter and total shock.

He raised the pistol, "You messed up, kid." The burglar smiled and took a moment to revel in his victory. "Say hi to the old bat for me, when you see her."

Peter's eyes widened as the gun was aimed at him. He knew he had to do something; he had to act, yet, the shock of finding out that he was responsible for May's death was too great. He was frozen in a moment of time, stuck in a circus where he was the main attraction.

A gunshot sounded and Peter flinched for a moment. He then gazed through the lenses at the Burglar as he and his smile both went limp. The killer collapsed on the floor without so much as a struggle.

Peter turned his head towards the source and saw Uncle Ben standing there with smoke coming from his recently fired revolver. Ben stared at Peter for a moment not realizing who stood there.

There was a quiet moment between the two. Peter wanted to rip off the mask and embrace Ben in a moment of grief but he was afraid. Afraid of revealing his role in May's death, afraid of what Ben would think, afraid of too many things to count.

Peter's senses tingled again indicating the approach of the police. He deepened his voice and gazed deeply into Ben's eyes, "Go down the right stairwell. It should let you avoid the cops."

Ben nodded slowly but couldn't help but ask, "Who are you?"

"A fool." Peter spun around and made for the window. "Nothing but a fool." He leaped out the window and vanished into the darkness.