Chapter 17: The Final Battle

The moment seemed to last forever to Madison, who was crouched silently on a darkened suspension wire, invisible in the night. She held her breath, waiting for him to speak, waiting for the truth.

Peter was stunned, unsure, and hating himself for it. Was Madison his friend, even after all of this time? She was a decent partner, and it was a relief to have someone else share his secret, but had she ever endeared herself to him? Did they ever cross that line and become friends? He knew that Harry was waiting for an answer, hating him; not only for killing his father but for being uncaring to the person Harry was thought to love. With a flush of shame he recalled words spoken to Harry in a moment of exasperation, 'You don't know Madison. You don't want to know Madison.' He remember hating Madison for walking into his life and taking his powers, his friends, for encroaching on his job, for embarrassing him whenever they were together, for forcing him to see MJ and relive his pain. He remembered kissing her on the roof that night, a desperate diversion, and the mortification that came after it, when he wondered what had possessed him to do such a thing. He saw everything about her in that moment, from her stupid black trench coat, to the risks she made him take, to the way she made him laugh, to the easiness and peace he found when web slinging with her. He faced himself at that moment, and was unsure.

Finally he raised his eyes to the figure before him. "I don't want anyone to die," he said in a low, resigned voice, and Madison felt her heart drop. Of course he couldn't say he wanted one to live more than the other, but she had seen his indecision and knew that he still couldn't even admit that they were friends.

The Red Death snarled, suddenly angry. "Wrong answer!" He howled, and lunged off of his glider towards Spiderman, sabers gleaming.

There was something sad and beaten about the way that Peter watched The Red Death come at him, like he was suddenly realizing how alone he was in the world. Harry, his best friend, was gone from him forever, he had no relationship with MJ, and he couldn't even admit that his partner was a friend, a real, true friend. He moved mechanically, his mind deep in thought; he was distracted, pain filled, guilt ridden, wanting to win but not sure how. He winced as a blow landed on his jaw, but even the pain of his head snapping backward was dulled by a familiar ache inside of his chest. He realized that it was the same empty feeling that had hit him when Uncle Ben died, except this time no one had died, and he wasn't fighting for revenge. He was fighting to live, for others to live, but his foe was unstoppable, shaking off blows like they were drops of water, and Peter was losing faith, fast. A fist came out of nowhere and he flew backwards, hitting the metal of the bridge, half of his body dangling in air over the water so far below. He struggled to sit up but felt so weak, and it was with a bemused, resigned look on his face that he watched The Red Death come at his beaten, bloodied form, sabers held high.

Her body, dark and silent, was in front of him, arms blocking the blow, taking the brunt of the attack. The blades cut at her skin but she did not fall, and he stared at her, head ringing, dazedly confused. The Red Death backed off warily, unsure of how to proceed. This was not part of the plan.

"Madison?" Peter asked quietly, and she turned to him, face smirking under the dark mask.

"It's 'Black Widow' to you, and as usual you're pretty lucky I'm here to save your ass, Spidey," she quipped briefly, then turned to the enemy. She faltered as she stared The Red Death down, and Peter noticed that she was shaking.

Finally The Red Death spoke. "I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, his body very still, as if trying not to spook a wild animal. She straightened her form proudly, anger thrumming through her.

"I won't let you hurt him," she said, her voice soft as well, but dangerously so.

The Red Death clenched fists around his bloody sabers. "Why?" he yelled hoarsely. "Why do you care? He doesn't. Ask him, ask him and see what he says about you! You mean something to me, Madison, and you mean nothing to him! Why are you still fighting against me?"

She stared at him silently for a moment, then reached her hand upwards to her face and pulled off her mask, looking at him with dark eyes.

"Because he is my friend," she sighed.

Whatever vestiges of sanity Harry had retained up until that point left him as he lunged, screaming like a demon out of hell, at the black clad woman standing over the battered blue and red clad man. Madison crouched, nearly falling to her knees as weakness washed over her, but ready to face the unstoppable enemy.

She never found out if he had been intending to hurt her, or if he was trying to get to Peter, or if he was just so blinded by rage that he didn't care who he hit, because as she prepared herself for the blow, feeling her powers and strength fade into dust, the fist that was flying in her direction was stopped by a hand that rose up behind her. She turned, surprised.

Peter smiled grimly at her as he held off the enemy's fists, one in each hand, his head nearly touching Harry's as they struggled against each other. "Had to save your ass," he grunted, his body tense with the struggle of keeping Harry relatively still. Madison smiled, then swayed and fell to her knees, her strength gone.

"You just don't understand, do you?" Harry, his mind now fully swallowed up by The Red Death, snarled. "My powers are unstoppable. No matter how long you hold me off, you are only delaying your death by my hands."

"Then at least I'll have died protecting my friends," Peter hissed back.

"You," he started, but was cut off abruptly.

"Hey Harry," Madison said conversationally, and both men's heads turned to look at her, kneeling rather comically between them, her feet dangling over the metal edge of the bridge, something clear and shining in her hands. "You know how you said that your power was unstoppable?"

She lunged foreword and jammed the needle into his leg, injecting the last of its contents into him. "Well I disagree," she hissed.

It took Harry a moment to understand what had happened to him, and when he did he let out a howl like a wounded animal. "No," he shrieked, backing up until he stood at the very edge of the bridge scaffolding. He ripped off his mask, his face horrified. "Madison, no. My power!"

Madison struggled to her feet, her gaze hard. "You miscalculated, Harry," she called to him. "Your theories were wrong. It doesn't just take away your powers; it breaks down your DNA. It destroys you from the inside out." He stared at her, horrified, as she delivered her final words. "You're dead, Harry."

He shook his head, disbelieving. "No," he whispered, backing up. "No, I can't be. Madison, please, I…"

"Harry, watch out!" Peter lunged at his friend as Harry's feet went over the edge of the bridge and he fell, but the hero was too slow and too weak to catch the hand of the horrified man. He leaned over the metal ledge and watched in disbelief and horror as his friend went down, past the thick suspension wires that arced high into the air, past the base of the bridge where cars were sitting abandoned and aflame, and into the dull gray of the river. He didn't even flail his arms as he fell; he didn't try to break his fall or to summon the glider. He just fell, his face resigned, his power broken, his revenge unfulfilled. Peter watched as he hit the water, watched his body sink below the surface like a stone, and had such deep regret he felt as though he would die from it.

MJ's shaking sobs brought him out of his stasis. Mechanically he rose, passing Madison's figure, still standing in the same spot where she had delivered Harry's fate to him, and knelt by MJ, who was about to faint after her ordeal. He wondered briefly as he undid her bonds whether she had realized who he was, if she had listened to the exchange going on before her and understood. He found, as he hugged her to his chest, that he didn't really care anymore.

Her gasp once again brought him back to reality, as she let out a muffled cry while looking over his shoulder. Instinctively he turned, expecting a battle, but all he saw was Madison. She had fallen to her knees, her face a withered shade of purple, the veins in her head visible, standing out against her dead looking skin. She was staring at him; her mouth moved into a silent whisper of his name before she crumpled into a heap, and Peter felt something break inside of him.

One chapter left! Can you guess what the ending will be?

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