Ben Parker was a simple man. He did not care that his family skirted the poverty line, that his job was a toxic place that only the most hardened of people could work at, or that his VA no longer accepted him as a patient. As long as he was with his family, he was warm and happy. And who didn't want to be happy? Ben couldn't think of a single reason why he wouldn't want to be happy. So, he was happy, and he couldn't be happier. It was 4:00 PM, November 21st, 2030. Thanksgiving Day. A time to share your gratitude with those you love and adore. Usually, a very warm day for Ben. He specifically asked to be off of work this day, and thankfully his job granted his request.

Like every year, Thanksgiving was held at the Parker house. It was small, but that was okay. The Parker's never expected a large crowd on holidays. No, only their next-door neighbors, the Maximoffs, joined them on such occasions. Ben sat at the head of the table, looking over the variety of delicious foods that were laid out before him, he thought back to the first day him and his beautiful wife, May, met such wonderful people.

It was seven years ago, Ben and May had the day off, and Peter was off at school for the day. It was a day to relax. He put in an old DVD from his youth into his vintage Sony DVD player, had a can of soda in his hand, sat down on his comfy chair, and looked at his beautiful wife. God, he loved her so much. It was love at first sight for him when his brother introduced him to his girlfriend and her friend. There was just something about her that made him absolutely smitten. He could never put it into words, which made writing love poems for her very difficult. All he knew is that she made him feel warm.

He stared as she read her horror novel, and he chuckled when he saw her wearing her reading glasses. She complained about having to wear them, but age catches all, and they definitely weren't getting any younger.

He was just about to start his movie, it was his favorite: It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World, but he heard some commotion next door, some grunts, and loud arguing. Ben, curious, got up from his chair and looked out the front window. He saw a man and a woman attempting to move a couch into the house.

"Just leave them be, Ben," May said in a dull tone.

He didn't even make a peep, but she knew what he was going to say.

Ben turned to her, closing the curtains back up.

"But May, they look like they really need-"

"Ben." She closed her book with a mighty thud. "They'll be fine. It's our day off. We haven't had a day off in weeks."

Ben eyed his wife, she didn't look angry, but she did look miffed. She was right, though, they haven't had a day off together in a very long time. Both of their schedules worked against each other, there would be days they'd work on the same day, days where Ben would be working but May would be off, and days where May would be working but Ben would be off. Very rarely would they both be off, and on top of that, alone. They loved Peter, but they needed time together.

As May's fiery gaze bore into Ben's eyes, he felt a tinge of fear roll up and down his body. There were only a select few people on this Earth that made him quiver in fear, and on top of that list was his wife. He swallowed down a lump in his throat as he did not dare to challenge his wife.

"O-okay, honey." He backed off and went back to sit in his chair. However, he stopped in his tracks and thought for a moment. "Hey, I forgot something in the basement. I'll be back."

"Okay, babe. Love 'ya," May said, absentmindedly.

He left the living room and entered the kitchen. The kitchen had a small walkway where the backdoor and the stairs for the basement intersected. He looked over his shoulder to see if May was watching him.

Coast is clear, he thought to himself.

He could hear his own heartbeat, he was on edge. He'd never disobey his wife, at least to her face. Time seemed to slow down as he reached for the doorknob. He could feel the tension in the air so thick that it could stop bullets. His heart pounded in his chest, and his blood flowed through him like a raging river.

"Ben! Don't you dare!" May yelled from the living room.

The jig was up. He was found out. He needed to run. He swung the door open and ran outside as fast as he could.

"God damn it, Ben!" He heard her scream.

"Sorry, honey!" he yelled back.

He ran and never looked back. If there was someone in trouble, Ben made it his mission to help. No matter what.

May didn't stay mad for too long, though. After chasing after Ben, she met the two new neighbors: Django and Marya Maximoff. Ben and May offered to help with the furniture, and thus a new friendship between families was born. Stories were told, and a good time was had.

"You know," Django laughed, "I'm very impressed by your fluent Romanian."

Ben chuckled. "I wish that were the case, Django! But no, it's my wife's Quirk. She has this like… perception filter that translates languages."

Django's face changed to one of bewilderment. "That's absolutely amazing!"

Ben's gaze turned to his wife, who was talking to Marya. "Yeah, she is amazing."

Both families were surprised to find Peter, Wanda, and Pietro walking home together. Fate was a funny thing. Ben was surprised to find the red bandanna he gave Peter that morning wrapped around Wanda's head. He'd be sure to tease him about it later.

Ever since then, both families were inseparable. They did everything together. Which Ben was grateful for; he didn't know if he could live without the Romanian dishes that he gorged down every Thanksgiving. God, they were so good.

Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, laughs were had, and hijinks ensued. It was Peter's and Wanda's turn this year to break the wishbone. Needless to say, it was chaotic. Peter ended up winning, but there was a bit of a spat.

Wanda slammed her hands on the table. Her gaze seemed to set aflame anything that she looked at. "Te înșeli fiul unui nenorocit! Ai folosit Quirk-ul tău!!"

Peter put his hand on his forehead. "Wanda, I can't understand you! You're speaking in English!"

"That's not fair!" Wanda exclaimed as she waved around the smaller broken piece of the wishbone while pointing at Peter with her free hand. "He used his strength factor! Usage of Quirks is banned!"

Peter pointed back at Wanda. "It's not like I can turn it off, drama queen! And bullcrap that 'Quirks are banned!' I saw your eyes! You were manipulating probability! You were using Hex!"

Wanda's face was practically red with rage at this point. "So I could at least have a chance of winning! How much do you bench now? 1000 lbs.? Yeah, no! I was just evening the odds!"

"Oh, what a pair of loveable idiots," Pietro chimed in. He turned to Uncle Ben, a toothy and mischievous smile painted on him. "It was me. I broke it. Nobody suspected a thing." He winked.

Ben laughed and gave Pietro a thumbs up. He very much approved. He looked in as the two children went back and forth at each other. They reminded him of himself and May when they were younger. Always trying to one-up each other, but eventually, trying to one-up each other turns into trying to impress each other.

Ben remembered how touched he was when Peter made quick friends with Wanda and Pietro. His last group of friends, well…. It was just hard for Peter to see them anymore. For five years, Peter, Pietro, and Wanda have been as tightly stitched together as a comfy sweater that someone would wear in Autumn, and Ben couldn't be any happier. Peter needed to be surrounded by people who loved him. He was very similar to his Uncle in that sense.

Eventually, the festivities slowed down, and it was time to pack it up. The Maximoff's were heading out downtown for Black Friday, a tradition that had lasted since they first moved in, and every year Peter went with them. However…

"Sorry, guys, but I have some extra credit that's due tonight that I need to do," Peter mumbled as he held his head in shame.

Wanda looked to the ground with a frown. "Oh, well, we'll miss you, Pete," she mumbled.

Now, what Peter said, confused Ben. He knew Peter. He was his Uncle after all, and Peter never did his homework at the last second. It was 10:37 PM, and schoolwork was usually due at 11:59 PM. Ben knew immediately something was up. He might not have that tingling thing that Peter has, but his Parker Paranoia screamed at him. Something was off, and he needed to find out why.

Ben felt bad when he entered Peter's room without permission, but he couldn't help it. He did knock, but there was no answer. Peter wasn't there. So, it wouldn't hurt to snoop around just a bit. He looked around the room. The walls were covered with posters. Poster upon posters upon posters. He remembered buying every single one for him. Anything that Peter liked, he made sure to get it for him. Money was never a problem, even though it certainly was. He just wanted Peter to be happy. All of these figures of his favorite heroes and books about heroism came right out of his pocket, but it made Peter happy.

Peter wasn't in the room, but he left his computer on. It wasn't much, it was considered cheap in the grand scheme of computers, but it was all he could get for Peter. Thankfully, Peter was ecstatic to receive his first PC, even though it was mainly for his school work.

Ben hunched over and looked at the screen. God, I hope I don't find anything bad, he thought to himself, I really don't want to give him 'The Talk' again. Anxiety filled his being as he browsed the various windows that were left open. Various videos, music, and word documents were what Ben went through. Some of them were related, but most weren't. Peter always had a scattered brain. Having ADHD would do that to a kid.

There was one document that caught Ben's eye, however. It was titled, "Say Hello to my Little Friend." That piqued his interest. It was a quote from Ben's favorite movie, "Scarface." A strange title for a text document, no doubt, but it shouldn't have perplexed Ben this much as it did. Ben knew that Peter liked to categorize mundane things. Specifically, Peter mentioned at dinner that he lists all of his favorite quotes from his favorite movies in a text document. Now, in any other case, Ben would just move on and not think anything of it. The thing that screamed at him that the document was suspicious was the file size.

It was twenty megabytes large.

That's way too big for a list of quotes...

Ben thought back to dinner. Why did Peter mention that today?

Now that he thought about it. Peter had been acting out of the ordinary for the past two weeks. After he'd come home from school or his training with Iron Man, he'd go right up to his room. Typical teenager attitude for any other kid, but Peter wasn't like any other kid. He always raved about how awesome it was to train with heroes, and he'd explain his activities to Ben and May after every training session. For the past two weeks, he stopped doing that. He'd been cooped up in his room all day, and he'd tell Ben or May to wait a bit before opening his door. As if he had something to hide.

Again, typical teenager stuff.

But Ben knew something was wrong. Something had to be wrong.

He was right.

When Ben clicked on that text document, the page filled with plans, pictures of buildings, pictures of Central Park, guns, some sort of chemicals, articles about human trafficking, Quirk trafficking, etc. What scared Ben the most, was the mugshot of Lonnie Lincoln, A.K.A. Tombstone, and the caption, "November 22nd, 2030. The night where Tombstone falls." was next to it.

That quip at dinner. It was a coverup. A way to hide the document from any suspicion if he or May ever found it.

"Dear God," Ben whispered under his breath. He quickly turned around and saw something that almost made him faint. On Peter's bed were a ski mask and dark clothing. "Oh no."

"Uncle Ben?" A voice added to Ben's anxiety. The lights flickered on, and Ben turned to the doorway to see Peter. Eyes wide and jaw dropped. He'd been found out.

Ben didn't want to do this, but he had to. "Young man, what are you planning to do tonight?" Ben asked in a low and stern voice.

Peter barely stuttered out a response. "I uh um, n-nothing, s-s-sir."

Ben crossed his arms. "Don't lie to me, Peter." His voice got louder.

Ben could see the fear in Peter's eyes. Not once in his guardianship did he ever lay a finger on him, but he did what he had to do to make Peter understand his punishments when he did something wrong. Sometimes when he was having a stern talk with Peter, he would momentarily forget that he was home and flashback to his tour in Iraq. Such cold times.

Peter eventually hung his head. "I… I was planning to go out and stop a human trafficking deal."

Ben could not believe what he was hearing. "You what?!" His voice now echoed throughout the room.

Peter winced. "Th-there's a human trafficking deal going down tonight, and nobody's going to be there to stop them because of Black Friday! I… I just thought…" He held his arm, a vain attempt at hugging himself.

"You thought you could stop it?"

"No." Peter's whole demeanor changed. "I think I will stop it." He stood taller, and his voice dripped with confidence.

Ben eyed his nephew; he knew this was gonna turn ugly. "Peter, you aren't a hero yet. You can't do this kind of stuff."

"Says who?"

"Says the law. You're not registered, and you're just a child!"

"Uncle, this is the only way I'm going to get into AA. I'm not going to be able to lift a ton by January! I just barely got past 1,000 lbs.!"

Ben couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even now, Peter doubted himself. "Peter Benjamin Parker, this little bust won't get you anywhere but six feet under!"

"You have that little faith in me?"

"That has nothing to do with this."

"So you don't believe me?!" Peter exclaimed.

The tension in the room got thicker and thicker with each word. May spoke up from the hallway.

"Ben? Peter? What's going on?"

Ben turned to her. "Peter's planning to do vigilante work tonight."

"Uncle Ben!"

Ben saw May's face twist in shock, and then contort in anger. She angrily stomped to Peter's room. "Young man, is this true?"

"Yeah, it is, so what? I'm going to do something actually useful!"

"No, you won't, Peter! You're not going anywhere," Ben said.

"I'm going to contact Mr. Stark first thing in the morning," May stated, "We're going to have a discussion about this." Then, she walked out the door.

Peter tried to chase after May. "No! Don't do that, please! He wouldn't let me apply!" Peter pleaded as desperation vibrated his voice.

Ben stepped in Peter's way and put up a hand. It broke his heart to see Peter like this. But he couldn't be the fun-loving Uncle right now. He had to be a guardian—a parent.

"I don't want to hear it, Peter," Ben huffed.

"But, Uncle Ben!"

"Peter!" Ben snapped. "I said I don't want to hear it! You're not a hero yet. You can't just go out and beat up criminals. That's not what a hero does. You can get hurt, or even worse, killed! You're not ready, son."

Peter's face contorted and scrunched up in anger. Ben suddenly felt a chill swirl around the room like a frozen hurricane. Very rare would he see Peter like this, and he'd never seen him be this angry at him.

Tears flowed out of Peter's eyes. "I hate you! I hate both of you!" he screamed, his voice cracked. "You don't know what it's like, do you?! To be worthless all of your life, and then finally have the means to do something good! You don't know what it's like to be called worthless, or have a damning nickname like 'Wall-Crawler!' And those people were right! Flash was right! I was worthless, but now I can do something! I'm doing this for you guys! Getting into hero school will give me a guaranteed career! Wouldn't it be nice to have some extra cash?! But, no! You don't appreciate it! You just want to chain me down, because you're too scared of breaking your promise to two people who're dead! Well, fuck both of you!"

Ben was stunned. He had never seen Peter this angry before, let alone use that word…

"Young man, don't you curse at me."

But Ben had to keep up the act.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Ben and sighed. He turned his back on Ben, and he could swear he heard Peter sob silently. "Just get out."

Ben couldn't take it anymore. He broke. "Peter, I-"

Peter then suddenly turned around. His eyes were red and sullen. "Get out!"

Ben sighed. "Okay, son." It was hard to walk out of the room, but Peter needed space. He was still a child, only fourteen-years-old. He then exited the room and closed the door behind him. Ben was nearly on the verge of tears, he hated being so hard. Being such a parent. He was pretty sure he just crushed Peter's dreams more severe than Flash ever could.

But Ben didn't want to lose Peter. He couldn't have another person in his life be swept away by the wave of death itself. Ben never wanted to feel the coldness of loss ever again. Every so often, he prayed to the Lord and asked Him to take him away before He took May. It was selfish, but only he knew how cold he could feel, and he could only imagine how cold he'd get if May died before him. He didn't want to find out. He wasn't suicidal. He wasn't depressed. He just knew what he wanted, and he never wanted to feel such a frigid feeling ever again.

He walked down the stairs and walked into the living room where he saw May sitting on the couch. She stared out through the window; the snow just started to fall. Ben noticed a single tear roll down her cheek.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" he whispered.

"Y-yeah…" May nodded, sniffled, and started to cry.

Ben quickly ran to her side. He never liked seeing the woman he loved so dearly cry. He hugged her close and cradled her head under his chin. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back as they both sobbed. The Parker family always practiced what they preached about crying. Various shushes came from Ben in an attempt to calm them both down. He hugged her tight. He didn't want to let go. Though his shirt was getting soaked by her tears.

"Honey?" May squeaked.

"Yes?"

"Are we good people?"

"Yes, May, we are."

"Honey?" she squeaked again.

"Yes, baby?"

"Are we good parents?"

Ben took longer to answer that question because he didn't know the answer. He always tried to be the parent that his father taught him and Richard to be. He remembered his father's words to Richard right before Peter was born. "A good father is a kind father. A father who encourages his child. A father who stands up for their family, and against injustices. A man who takes care of his child and takes care of his partner. A father is a man who spends time with and protects the ones he loves. I have no doubt, my sons, that you will be great fathers."

"May, do you remember what you said to me when we adopted Peter?"

May reluctantly broke the hug and wiped her tears. "Ben, I'm too sad to remember."

Ben chuckled. "It was about a month in. He could talk, recognized us, but didn't understand why Richard and Mary weren't coming back. He just couldn't understand that we were going to take care of him. I was getting frustrated. Because he kept mentioning them."

"That was so hard to go through," May muttered.

"But you told me something. You told me that he didn't need a father and mother. He needed friends. You told me that it was our absolute responsibility to make this boy the happiest kid on the block. And you said these exact words, 'We can never be cruel or cowardly. We have to try to be nice, but we should never fail to be kind. We have to laugh hard, run fast, and be kind.'"

May's face lightened up. "Hell of a speech, huh?"

Ben snickered. "Yeah, 'cuz you stole it. Don't think I don't pay attention when we watch your shows."

"Hey!" May playfully punched Ben in the arm.

"But, May. We are good parents. Or at least, parental figures. We did and are, doing our absolute best with him. He's a teenager, May. He doesn't mean what he says. He's a bucket filled with hormones and junk that makes him so confused. He loves you, and he loves me."

May smiled at Ben. "Jeez, how do you always know what to say?"

"Could be a hidden Quirk Factor."

May laughed. "You wish!"

Ben laughed with May. Again, like countless times in his life, he realized just how beautiful she was to him. The perfect girl for him. "I love you, May." He pecked her on her lips.

She giggled. "I love you too." She then kissed him back.

This was nice. He comforted his wife, and he cheered himself up in the process. He felt warm.

But not warm enough.

Ben's eyes widened in horror, and May noticed.

"Ben? Honey?"

Ben started to hyperventilate. "May, Peter left."

Her eyes widened in horror as well.

The two dashed up the stairs at a speed that would make Pietro blink and swung Peter's door open. Ben was right. All that waited for them was an empty room and an open window. Ben felt nauseous. I didn't even take away his webshooter! He mentally kicked himself.

May immediately into action. "I'll call Iron Man." She then bolted out of the room to get her phone.

Ben shocked himself out of his dazed state. "Don't call the police!" he shouted down. "They won't understand!"

Ben looked around the room. How did he let this happen? Why did he trust Peter? Why didn't he think to take the vigilante clothes out with him? Peter was going to get himself killed.

"Iron Man said that he's on his way, but it'll be a while!" He heard May yell from downstairs. "He said he's trying to get some heroes on it, but they're out of heroes who are available!"

Ben ran back into the living room and grabbed his keys and red and blue coat.

"Ben, where are you going?!" May cried.

"I'm going to look for him."

"Ben!"

Ben turned around and grabbed her shoulders. He looked directly into the eyes that made him melt so many times. "May, I'm the only one who can find him. I know he's headed towards Central Park. I can meet him halfway if I leave right now."

Ben saw a flash of determination envelope May's eyes. "Let me come with you."

"May, you can't. It's really dangerous out there and…" Ben trailed off.

"And what, Ben?"

"If worst comes to worst, I don't want to lose two people instead of just one. Not again. Okay?"

May looked to the ground at her feet. "Oh…"

Ben pulled her into a tight hug. They then pulled each other in a deep kiss. God, he loved her so much.

"I love you," Ben said as he put his forehead to hers.

"I love you more. Bring our boy home."

Ben once again found himself that night reluctantly walking out of a door. He raced towards the old 2013 model car, entered it, and turned it on. He felt cold, so he put the heat on. He saw May in the window of the house waving to him, he waved back. He was going to bring Peter home. He pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street. Going just a bit faster than what the speed limit allowed for.

As Ben drove further and further away from the house, he felt colder and colder. He hated this part. He always hated leaving the house or dropping May or Peter off at work or school. He hated being alone. He always felt so cold when he was alone. This has happened for all of his life. Ever since, at the age of five, when his Quirk first activated.

Hot and Cold. A locater Quirk.

When he was with people, whom he felt a positive bond with, he felt warm, and when he was away from them, he felt cold. He always wore a jacket. Just to keep some semblance of warmth. He never really cursed his Quirk, well not before the war. He didn't really wish that he had some earth-destroying Quirk or anything like that. He just accepted it.

But during the war, Ben wished he didn't have a Quirk at all. He was only fourteen when he saw the smoke coming out of the city. He remembered hearing a large explosion, and Richard, who was sitting next to him in the family car, jumped and cling on to him. It was 8:46 AM, and he and his brother were late for school. He remembered hearing his father mutter something under his breath after he heard something over the radio. They turned around and headed back home. Nobody spoke. All they could do was watch the smoke coming from the city. He wished he never saw that smoke. He wished he never heard that explosion. He wished he never saw those things and then imagined the pain and suffering of those 2.606 people. He wished he never felt that extreme empathy that led him to join the United States military in 2005. The 9/11 attacks shook the nation and the world. Heroism was questioned, Islamophobia ran rampant throughout the world, paranoia filled every person's heart, and people wanted revenge.

The war was a cold time.

This happened every time Ben was away from those he loved. He didn't just feel physically cold, he felt emotionally cold as well. Technically Ben Parker was cured of his PTSD by his psychiatrist, but he still had it. Benjamin Parker's Quirk made him feel safe and happy when he was with his loved ones. There were no problems when he was with his family.

He tried to call Peter's cellphone dozens and dozens of times. He even left a voicemail. He neared Central Park. Warmth flowed in and out of his body. The warmer he got, the closer he was to Peter. All he had to do was feel warm.

However, there were times where he took a wrong turn, and he felt cold again. Thus, he remembered once again. He remembered the look of absolute delight on his Commanding Officer's face when he learned of Ben's Quirk. Ben was tasked with a mission. To befriend and create meaningful bonds with those in his squad. Ben didn't question it, after all, a good soldier was one who follows orders without question.

It wasn't until after his first battle did he realize why he was tasked with becoming close to those in his squad. It was a massacre. The US forces won the battle, but they sustained more casualties. Ben remembered the dread that filled his body when he heard his officer say:

"Alright, kid. Let's go find those dog tags."

It was then he realized that he was just a tool to find the corpses of his friends. Men and women who he spent weeks upon weeks getting to know. Forming bonds that were as tough as steel. He then was forced to use his Quirk to find their lifeless bodies to report to the government who specifically they lost.

This cycle repeated over and over again.

Ben transferred to a new unit.

Ben was then ordered to make bonds with his fellow soldiers.

They'd die.

He would find them.

He would then be transferred to a new unit.

Over.

And over again.

He served his six years and got his benefits: free college, and the feeling of being stuck outside in the Winter.

God bless America.

He then spent the next couple of years depressed and aimless. Until he met May through Richard's girlfriend, Mary. It took a while, but he finally felt warm again. He loved someone, and she loved him back.

Ben finally started to feel warm again. He could tell that Peter left Central Park. He was heading West now, towards the docs. Ben went through the streets of New York City, he could faintly notice strands of webs hanging from some of the buildings. He decided to carefully follow the trail, which proved fruitful as with the passing of every block, he felt warmer and warmer. Eventually, Ben ended up at an old and dilapidated warehouse. He glanced at the time on his car's dashboard; it was 11:30 PM.

Suddenly a truck started its engine and pulled out of the parking lot of the warehouse. Ben hid as it went by and prayed that he wouldn't feel warm as it did. Luckily, he didn't feel any warmer or colder. Peter wasn't in the truck and was still inside the warehouse. Ben dialed a number and put his phone to his ear.

"Ben? What's wrong?" Iron Man's voice spoke from the phone.

"I found Peter's location, how far out are you?"

"I'm only fifteen minutes away from Manhattan. Send me the location."

Ben looked down at his phone and sent his location to Iron Man.

"Awesome," Iron Man stated, "Ben, whatever you do, don't go inside. I'll be right there."

Before Ben could retort back, the line went dead. He stood there and stared at his phone.

Iron Man won't be here in time.

Ben made his decision. He had to go in. For all he knew, Peter could very well be on the verge of death. He went down the stairs, onto the boardwalk, and silently entered the warehouse. The urge to cough irked Ben when he opened the door as the dust entered his lungs, but he suppressed it. He couldn't let anybody know his position. He needed to find Peter immediately.

The warehouse was dark, but not dark enough that he couldn't see without a light. Anxiety and warmth filled his being with every step forward. Either some sort of gangster with a gun or Peter could be sitting around the corner. He slowly crept forward throughout the warehouse and found himself in some hallway. On the other side of the hallway, light flowed from a doorway. He felt warmer with every step. Peter was close.

He put his back against the wall and peered through the open doorway. His heart nearly stopped as he saw Peter chained to the wall, and a man with a scythe for an arm cut his cheek. Determination filled his body—determination to protect his family. Ben carefully sneaked behind the man. Making sure to not make one sound. Sometimes his military training did come in handy. His heart kept beating faster and faster. The last time he hurt another human being was so long ago. He swore never to do it again, but he needed to save Peter.

Once he was behind the man, he inhaled sharply and whispered a small prayer to himself. The man started to laugh maniacally and raised his scythe-arm. Time slowed down as Ben violently swung his fist towards the evil man. He could feel the sharp pain sting his knuckles as his fist collided against the man's temple with a sickening and loud crack. The stranger then flew two meters across the room, dropped the knife that he had in his hand, and landed square on his face, knocking him out cold.

Ben turned his attention to Peter. He was mortified to see the scars and bruises that invaded his face. His eyes were closed, which scared the hell out of him. He ran up and kneeled down in front of the chained up Peter.

"Peter! Peter, are you okay?" he cried.

Peter's voice slowly fluttered open. An expression of shock adorned his face.

"U-Uncle Ben?"

Ben couldn't be more relieved. He was okay. Peter was okay. He unshackled his arms and pulled Peter into a hug. For the second time that night, he cried.

"I was so worried about you," Ben said, his voice muffled from speaking into Peter's shoulder. He pushed him, but kept his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Don't you ever do that again."

Ben could see the puffiness and the redness of Peter's eyes. In those eyes was fear.

"U-Uncle Ben, why are you here?" His voice sounded coarse and worried.

What did they do to you? Ben thought. Images of Peter's being that were conjured by his imagination flew through his head. He shuddered. He had to get Peter out of here.

"Questions for later, come on." Ben hoisted Peter up to his feet. "Can you walk?"

Peter clutched his flank in pain. "Y-yeah, I can." He looked at Ben. "Healing Factors feel really weird." He smiled. "Do you know what it's like to feel your kidney somewhat repair itself? Not fun."

Ben couldn't help but smile too. However, he frowned once again once he noticed Peter's constant shivering. Ben took off his red and blue jacket and handed it to Peter. "Here, son."

Peter hesitantly took it but put it on anyway. "But, Uncle Ben, aren't you cold?"

Ben chuckled. "Not anymore. Come on, let's go. Iron Man's on his way."

They slowly walked towards the exit of the room. Peter technically wasn't lying when he said he could walk, but he still had a very noticeable limp. Ben looked at the time on his phone, 11:40 PM. Iron Man would be there soon. He did it.

"So how did you knock out the other one? Same way?" Peter asked, taking deep breaths in between words.

The other one? What other one? Ben opened his mouth to question what Peter meant, but he was cut off by a familiar voice.

"Cheap shot, old man!"

Ben's eyes widened in horror as he and Peter turned around to see the previously unconscious gangster running at them, his arm still shaped like a scythe.

"I'll send you both straight to hell!"

Peter darted towards the charging gangster. Quickly putting on his mask as he ran.

Ben reached his hand out. "Peter!"

"Uncle Ben, stay right here!" Peter yelled.

Ben knew that Peter had been training his heart out the past few months, but actually watching him flip into the air, using his webs to zip himself across the room, and using his environment against his opponent was something to behold. It was almost like a dance. He was damn proud of him. He saw Peter finish the fight with a stylistic pose: crouched low to the ground and one arm in the air.

Seeing Peter like this only confirmed what Ben knew all along, Peter had what it took to be a hero and a damn good one. Ben felt so warm.

A loud bang echoed off the walls of the room. In a split second, Ben's mind went to a thousand different thoughts. He'd heard that noise so many times in his life. He thought of the war. He thought of seeing the World Trade Center collapsing. He thought of his best friend being shot right in between the eyes right next to him. He thought about Peter, and if he was okay.

That was until he felt dizzy. That was until he noticed the mix of bright and dark blood seeping out of his abdomen. That was until the pain settled in.

"I think that's all of them," he heard Peter say. "Come on we gotta-"

Ben stumbled forward, clutching at his gushing wound.

"Ben?"

Ben looked up to see Peter's face. He must have taken the mask off. Ben reached out to Peter, but his legs buckled beneath him.

"Uncle Ben?!" Peter cried.

Ben felt Peter's hand hold his back, slowing his descent to the ground. Ben heard Peter yell and scream his name over and over. Peter cradled Ben's body, his back rested on Peter's knee, and his head and torso in Peter's arms.

"Ben, oh my God, please no. Oh my God, Uncle Ben, please. I'm so sorry." Peter's voice cracked.

Ben looked at the face of his nephew. He was the spitting image of Richard. He missed him so much. He missed his baby brother.

"Come on, please, just hang in there, okay? The pros are on their way, right? You said that, right? Come on, stay with me! You gotta-"Peter's voice broke, "You gotta come home, okay? You're gonna come home, and see Aunt May, and you're gonna hug her, and you two are going to live long and happy lives because she loves you and I do too and and and and and DON'T GO PLEASE."

He felt it. He felt warmth.

He saw Peter close his eyes, and the tears run down his face. He smiled. Peter was such a crybaby. Ben weakly lifted his arm, there wasn't much energy left in his body. He grabbed Peter's mask and lifted it down on his face. Ben smiled again. Peter was going to be a great hero.

He had to speak to him. "Peter, it's okay." His voice was weak, almost like a whisper. "It's okay, son."

Peter's eyes opened. "U-Uncle Ben?"

Those big brown eyes. "It's okay, Peter. I… I don't need to wait for the heroes-"A weak cough cut him off. "My hero's already here. He's always been with me since the day I adopted him."

"Ben please," Peter croaked. "Please, don't say that. Come on, just hold on. Please."

"I'm so proud of you, son."

Ben always wondered what his final moments in life were gonna be. Would it be a car accident on the way to work? An unforeseen condition that would do him in? Quickly? Painfully? How did it feel?

"Ben?! UNCLE BEN?!" a faint voice yelled.

He could answer that question now as he saw the encroaching darkness of death. If he could laugh, he'd laugh at all the people who said that dying felt cold. They were wrong—all of them. At least for him, the last moments he spent on Earth, he felt warm. Warm and loved.

Your boy's a hero. Richard. Mary. He's going to be amazing. May, I'll see you later, honey. I love you. I love you so much.

Peter didn't know what he did wrong. He kept calling his name in some vain attempt to get him to wake up. Uncle Ben wasn't dead, he couldn't be. How did he get shot? There was only one gunshot. Reaper was knocked out. This was a trick it had to be.

"Don't go… please. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please."

His body rocked back and forth, holding his lifeless Uncle in his arms.

The events of the past two minutes kept replaying in his head. He knocked out Reaper. His Spider-Sense went off. He dodged the bullet. He yanked the gun out of the gangster's hand with a web. He knocked him out.

Peter felt sick when he realized that the bullet that he dodged hit Uncle Ben. It was the only explanation. If Peter didn't dodge, if Peter wasn't so selfish, then maybe Ben wouldn't be dead. He held Ben's head closer to his chest and cried harder. It was all his fault.

If Peter never went out tonight.

If Peter was responsible with his powers.

Ben wouldn't be dead.

He killed him.

He killed his own Uncle.

Sadness turned into rage. Peter let his Uncle go, carefully letting his lifeless body down to the floor. He got up and glared at the unconscious gunman.

No. He killed him.

Peter walked towards the gangster. Fists clenched and eyes narrowed.

Why should he live? Why should he live while a good man dies?

He stood over the man's unconscious body and grabbed him by his shirt. Peter towered over him. He was going to do it. He was going to kill him.

"You don't deserve to live." He pulled his fist back. "Since you're not awake, it's useless to explain what I'm going to do to you. But I'll explain anyway," he said aloud. "There have been studies about what would happen if the Hulk punched someone with all of his might. They found that the unlucky bastard would disintegrate in a picosecond. Dead on the spot. Swift and painless. Now, I'm not as strong as the Hulk, but that's a good thing." Peter's heart beat faster as he was nearing the end of his explanation. "So you won't die fast. You'll die slowly and painfully. And I hope you wake up during it."

Peter could feel every hair on his body stand up. He wanted this man to die. He wanted revenge. An eye for an eye. This man was just a lowlife human trafficking murderer. He had a chance at a good life, and he blew it. Why should this man live? He didn't in Peter's eyes. It was Peter's duty to kill him. It was his responsibility.

Responsibility?

His responsibility.

Responsibility?

What is my responsibility? he thought to himself.

Peter looked down at the man. How questioned how many people cared for him. Did he have a family? A partner? Kids? Did people expect him to come home that night?

Two armies warred inside Peter at that moment. An army of vengeance and an army of empathy. One army wanted to kill this man. The other didn't want any more death that night. Every spear that was thrown pierced Peter. Every sword that decapitated its enemy slashed him. It hurt. It hurt so much. Peter looked at the man with hideous contempt.

He had to kill him.

But, Uncle Ben would never.

And Peter Parker was no killer.

Letting that man go and webbing him to the wall was the hardest thing that Peter did, but he had to. He webbed up the Reaper as well. Those two weren't going anywhere any time soon. Peter went back to Uncle Ben. He picked up his lifeless body. Oddly enough, it wasn't cold yet. He found a corner in the room, ripped off his mask, knelt down, and held his Uncle close.

He sat in the corner with his Uncle and cried. He cried for what seemed like hours, but it was only five minutes. At exactly 11:45, the glass ceiling to the warehouse shattered, and landing from his flight was Iron Man himself.

Peter kept holding on to Uncle Ben. Only whimpers, small hics, and sniffles escaped his mouth. He knew Iron Man was there, but he didn't care. All he wanted was his Uncle.

"Kid?"

Peter looked up to Iron Man, but due to his tears, all he saw was a mix of red and yellow colors. Peter just couldn't stop crying.

"I… I didn't… I didn't want this to… to…" Peter couldn't even finish his sentence, he just kept crying. He felt the hand of Iron Man grip his shoulders.

"Peter. We have to get you home. The police and more pros will be here any second."

Peter shook his head. "No no no no. You don't understand. I can't leave him." He held Uncle Ben tighter.

"We have to leave him. Peter, c'mon. We got to go. You can't be seen here."

Peter's head whipped to face Iron Man. "I'm not leaving him!" he screamed.

Peter's vision was still blurry, but he could see Iron Man turn his gaze to the side. "Kid, I'm sorry I have to do this."

Peter's head buzzed with ferocity as his Spider-Sense warned him of oncoming danger. Peter tried to fight with all of his might as Iron Man ripped him away from Uncle Ben. "No! Please! I can't leave him!" He kicked and screamed, but even with all of his might, he couldn't rid himself of Iron Man's grasp. "Let me go!"

Iron Man put Peter in a tight bear hug and didn't let go. He walked him towards the opening in the ceiling. Peter heard the whirring of the suit and the engines activating. He knew what that meant. "No, Uncle Ben!" In a blink, Peter felt a rush of cold air blast his eyes. He found himself high in the sky. Far away from the warehouse. Far away from Uncle Ben. He screamed a guttural cry of anguish. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he kept whispering.

There was only one question that Iron Man asked as the two flew through the night sky.

"Peter, do you want some distance for a bit?" he asked him.

Peter didn't answer. He didn't want to answer. He was just silent as a statue.

"It's okay. You can call me later, and we can talk about it, okay?"

Peter surprised himself that he responded with a very quiet, "Okay." It wasn't a long flight, and Peter found himself seeing familiar sights as they zeroed in on Queens. He then realized that he had to break the news to Aunt May. Dread overcame him.

He silently panicked as he stood in front of his house's door, waiting for it to open. How would he tell her? How was she going to react? How was Aunt May going to react when Peter tells her that he murdered Uncle Ben?

The door swung open, and Peter's heart felt like it was going to fail. There he saw Aunt May, hair disheveled and phone in hand. She looked at Peter and then looked at Iron Man. She kept looking between the two, and then finally looked at Peter's red and blue jacket. Her face became sullen and dark. Peter thought he was going to faint.

Iron Man decided to have the first word. "Ma'am I-"But he was cut off.

May put her hand up. "No. Please."

Peter felt his heart ache for his Aunt.

"Peter," Aunt May said to him, "Go upstairs, okay, honey? The adults have to have a-" she choked, "A talk."

Peter nodded, he couldn't make eye contact with her. He wasn't brave enough. He walked quickly up the stairs and plugged his ears. He didn't want to hear Aunt May cry. He got to his room and quickly opened his door. There, he saw Pietro and Wanda sitting on his bed waiting for him.

Before he could even speak, Wanda and Pietro pulled him in a hug.

"We were so worried about you," Wanda whispered.

Peter hugged them back and started to cry yet again.

"It's okay, man. We're here. It's okay," said Pietro.

After all the hugging and crying were finished, they asked what happened to him. Peter explained everything. His plan. The preparations. The lies. His stupidity. The trafficking. Tombstone. All of it. He would occasionally take a break in his story to start crying again.

Eventually, he finished. After more hugging, Pietro had to leave the room to go get some water. Leaving Peter and Wanda alone.

Peter felt super awkward, sad, yes, but also awkward. He just poured his heart out to his friends, and there he was sitting in silence.

"Flash's right…" Peter murmured as he hugged his knees to his chest.

This caught the attention of Wanda. "What?"

"Flash's right." Peter lifted his head up. "I'm just a wall-crawler. I'm useless."

Wanda sighed. "Peter…"

"No, Wanda, he's right. I just blindly and stupidly rushed into a plan that almost got my Uncle killed. Do you know what I said to him when he found out Wanda? Huh? I said that I hated him and May, and cursed them both out." The tears started to form again.

Wanda just stared at him with an empathetic look.

"I cursed at him and look at what happened, Wanda. He's dead. I told him that I hated him, and then he died. I didn't even directly tell him that I loved him. I am just a wall-crawler, climbing this impossible wall and never making any progress. And when I do think of something to climb it, I get shot right back down." Peter winced at his own words. "I'm useless. I can't be a hero. I murdered Uncle Ben. I should just stay where I'm at because if I dare to do any better, something happens to remind me of my place." Peter couldn't speak anymore, he just cried. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't-"

Before Peter could finish his sentence, Wanda launched herself at him and bear-hugged him tight.

"Don't say another damn word." Her voice was low and deadly serious.

Peter spoke out of confusion. "Wanda, what?"

She didn't bother to answer his question. "You are not worthless, and you didn't murder Ben."

"Wanda, I did," he sobbed.

"No!" she exclaimed, "You didn't! Peter, he dedicated his life to protect you. He'd give up his life for you if you meant living. He told me so." She pulled back and looked Peter in the eyes. "You didn't kill him, Peter. If the situation was any different and you were snatched off of the street by some traffickers? He'd be out there and tracking you down and saving you in a heartbeat. No matter what. He wanted to see you safe. Because he loved you so much. He would sacrifice himself to save you. You aren't selfish because you dodged the bullet. You didn't know what would happen. You didn't kill him, Peter."

Peter still cried. "But I'm still just-"

"A wall-crawler? Peter, let me tell you something. That little nickname is stupid. It's being used wrong. To me, a wall-crawler is somebody who can scale any wall and conquer it. The name Wall-Crawler to me screams, 'I can do it!' instead of 'I'm worthless.' Okay? We've been friends since the sixth grade, and I've seen you get beaten up and thrown down countless times, but I always see you get back up. No matter how many times you lose your footing, you always climb back up. Because you're you, Peter. A hero. Ben's hero. May's hero." She took Peter's hand into hers. "My hero. You are a wall-crawler, Peter. You don't give up."

Peter couldn't speak. All he could do was hug her back tight. "Thank you…"

She returned the hug. "I'm always here, okay?"

Eventually, Pietro came back and found them in a very compromised position and teased them for it. They all talked for about an hour until they both got a text to go home. They said their goodbyes to Peter and exited via his window. Peter was once again left alone. He tried lying on his bed, but he couldn't sleep. How could one sleep after a night like this? His throat and mouth felt incomprehensibly dry, so he decided to tear himself from his bed, and journey downstairs to the kitchen.

As he walked down the stairs, he saw May curled up into a ball, sniffles and sobs escaped from her mouth. Peter immediately ran to her side and nudged her with his hand.

"Aunt May?"

Aunt May lifted her head and saw that Peter was next to her. "Oh, Peter," she choked as she tried to compose herself. "Did Pietro and Wanda leave?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, they are."

Silence fell upon them—a sad, lonely silence.

They couldn't speak. They didn't want to. They knew. They both knew.

Aunt May and Peter hugged each other tight, and yet again, they both started to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie. It's okay."

Peter and Aunt May cried and cried in each other's arms throughout the night. He needed this. She needed this. Eventually, the crying stopped, but they didn't stop hugging. Peter, however, felt so tired. He laid his head on May's lap, and he tried not to go to sleep. His thoughts started to go back to Uncle Ben, and he started to shiver. May noticed this and began to sing Peter a song that she sang for him when he was young. His favorite hero nursery song.

"You're not alone

There's no doubt

Your gift

Isn't futile to be

If we'll be united

We're stronger together

We always have the high hope

Not all for one but one for all…"

Only eight lines in and Peter was fast asleep. He slept in the lap of his loving Aunt. Things were going to be different and difficult. Even life-changing, but it was all going to be okay. Because Peter was loved, and he felt warm.

To be continued...