For a long time, Peter did nothing but weep, tears pouring out from his eyes as he clutched his girlfriend's dead body in his arms, as if somehow his love for her could bring her back to life. He'd seen it countless times in fairy tale stories as a child. Good, and love, always won in the end.

But this wasn't a fantasy; it wasn't a story. This was real life.

Gwen Stacy, the girl he loved more than life itself, was dead, gone forever. Good had lost.

He had lost.

The truth was, he wasn't really processing much of anything, just FEELING. It was an overwhelming sensation, like a never-ending tidal wave that wouldn't stop coming down. This was no wave of water, but one of deep, painful loss. He could never kiss her again, never tell her he loved her. They couldn't go out for ice cream anymore, and they wouldn't be going to England together after all.

Peter had no idea how long he'd been down there; it could've been minutes, it could've been hours, when he heard something.

A laugh, a cackle. A cruel, cold, mocking sound that was slowly getting louder and closer.

"Well," a slimy, disgusting voice said behind him, "looks like I took away your hope after all."

Peter slowly raised his face from Gwen's body. His blood began to boil, like a pot on a stove instantly cranked to an incalculable temperature. His whole body began to tremble as a new emotion started to take over.

Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

Gently setting Gwen's body on the floor, Peter got to his feet, turning around to face Harry. His former friend was hovering just above him, having recovered his glider at some point.

"Like I said," Peter said, restraining his tone to a cold and direct one, "you wanna fight? Fight me. Here I am."

Harry, or whatever was left of him, smiled a wicked smile.

"Now that you know the hopelessness that I felt," he began, "with pleasure."

Peter could no longer contain himself; he didn't wait for Harry to zoom down to him, instead lunging upward in a swift leap, grabbing onto Harry. The glider began taking them upward as he laid into his enemy, the two struggling mightily. They smashed repeatedly into the side of the tower on their way up, but the collisions were only the mildest of annoyances to Peter. The only thing he could be bothered with right now was hitting Harry as many times as possible. There was no endgame, just grief turned to vengeance.

They finally reached the top, where Harry managed to get ahold of Peter, throwing him ahead and into the next wall. Fueled by immense adrenaline, he quickly burst out from the bricks, lunging for his opponent. This time, he took Harry clean off his glider, slamming him into the floor and pinning him. He then began beating him relentlessly, delivering punch after punch directly to his enemy's face, the attempts at resistance not slowing him down at all.

Finally, Peter ceased the punching, staring down at the man he once called his best friend. Somehow, Harry was still conscious, but otherwise looked as defeated as humanly possible, like he no longer had any will left to fight. But the rage was still flowing through Peter's body, which lead to him glancing at the broken cogs of the clock, the cogs that he had tried, and failed, to stop.

Getting up, he walked over and grabbed the biggest cog he could find, picking it up with both hands. He walked back over to Harry, eyeing him from above as he stood over the man, the monster, or whatever he was anymore. He hoisted the large metal gear up over his head, preparing to bring it down right one Harry's head.

He was going to end this, once and for all. This monster would never hurt anyone else, ever again.

So why was he hesitating?

Peter tried to realign his will with his desire, his rage, but his arms would not come down. It was as if some invisible force was keeping his limbs up, trying to prevent him from carrying out this action.

That invisible force was his Uncle Ben.

Even now, it was as if the only father he'd ever truly known was here, with him, in this moment, looking on. Peter could still imagine what he might say.

"It's not worth it, Peter."

He tried one more time to bring his arms down, but it was no use. No matter how angry he was, no matter how much he felt the person before him deserved this, he just couldn't do it.

Peter wished more than anything that he could, but he couldn't.

Tossing the cog to the side, he let out all his pain in a loud and piercing scream directed skyward, maintaining it for several seconds before looking back down at Harry.

"You're so weak," the man had the nerve to say.

Peter drew his fist back, delivering a final blow to the head that knocked the man out cold once again. He then took in multiple, prolonged breaths that he didn't even realize he needed, steadying himself. He could now here cop cars in the distance, so he webbed Harry up tightly, ensuring he could not escape again.

Then he waited.

He could hear the cops pulling up, getting out of their cars.

Still, he sat there beside Gwen, staring at her.

They were just outside.

Finally, Peter slipped on his mask. He slowly scooped Gwen's body up into his arms, turning and finding the exit. He walked out, where he was greeted by several police officers. He paid them no mind as he kept walking. He didn't have to look at them to know that they were all staring at him, and at the dead woman in his arms. He eventually came to a stretcher that medics had brought out of an ambulance, gently setting Gwen's body on it.

"Spider-Man," an officer said as he came up to him, "what happened?"

Peter said nothing at first, only staring at the love of his life, trying to soak in all her beauty, since this was the last time he would ever see her.

"Spider-Man?" the officer repeated, prompting Peter to slowly turn around just enough to face him.

"The person who did this," he began, keeping his voice as even as possible, "is up there."

He raised his finger to the top of the clock tower.

"You can't miss him."

Peter then turned, slowly strolling past Gwen, past the love of his life, one last time, getting in still one last glance at her before firing a web, swinging off into the cold, lonely night.

Wow.

Hope you guys enjoyed this bleak, hopeless bit.

Know that I am praying for you all; stay safe and healthy out there!

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18