Web of Spider-Man
#10: Fatal Flaw Part 3
"Homecoming"

…

Peter flustered into the homecoming dance drenched in sweat and rain. Adrenaline muffled his anxiety, and propelled him past the teachers at the door, through the throng of grinding students, all the way to a clear shot of Cindy Moon. He froze in place for a moment, wiped down his hair, produced Cindy's scarlet corsage from his pocket, and prayed she wouldn't mind its smushed plastic case. Then, with all the confidence he could muster, Peter entered the lion's den.

"Hey, Cindy, I'm sorry—"

"He's alive," the girl exclaimed, spotting him before he could surprise her.

"Yeah, I—I'm so sorry. My aunt and uncle—"

"Harry told me everything," she interrupted again. There wasn't a hint of relief or excitement in her eyes, only cold rage. "Like, right before dinner. You know, I'm not mad because your aunt and uncle grounded you or whatever. I'm mad because you never fucking told me about it and just left me here to—to—"

"I was still planning on coming. I mean, I'm here," Peter pointed out.

"That's not good enough. You needed to communicate with me, Peter. Do you know how embarrassing it was to watch everyone else take pictures and flirt with their dates and joke about you ditching me as I just stood there like an idiot with my disappointed parents, holding your boutonniere?" Cindy roared, for the first time allowing her anger to boil.

People began to look in their direction. Harry finally spotted them, and, after Peter gave him a pleading look, tried to push his way to his friend's aide. Jessica followed, but got lost in a wave of students.

"Do you…do you still have it?" Peter asked. "I have your corsage."

"No, I—I threw it away. I thought you weren't going to show up," Cindy said, refusing to take the corsage. "You know what? Forget it." She turned away just as Harry made his way over. "He's all yours, Harry."

And with that said, she disappeared into the crowd. Harry offered Peter a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Forget her. She's…y'know…temperamental," Harry said, tying Peter's tie.

"Yeah, she…" Peter groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. "I screwed up. Big time."

"Don't do this—this thing you always do. Beat yourself up. Don't beat yourself up," Harry said. "Yeah, maybe you made a mistake, but she took it like a fucking orc."

"What does that even mean?" Peter grumbled.

"It's—she's—y'know, I have no idea," Harry admitted. "I'm not a writer."

"Clearly," Peter snorted.

"Was that a laugh?" Harry said.

"Don't push it," Peter retorted, his mouth tightened into a frown again.

"Yo. Lighten up, dude—"

"Not helping, Hare," said Jessica, finally reaching them. "You okay, Peter?"

The scrawny teen shrugged. Jessica rubbed his arm reassuringly, causing a wave of heat to flood his cheeks. She's just being supportive, he thought, Don't read into it.

"Come on. Let's dance. Maybe it'll get your mind off...everything." Jessica took his hand and began to pull him into the crowd.

Peter nearly followed, but the instant she also locked hands with Harry, he felt himself pulling back. A chill replaced the warmth in his cheeks. Nausea clung to his stomach.

"I'm just…I'm gonna get something to drink," Peter said.

Harry stepped toward him. "I'll come with—"

"No, don't-" Peter crept back. "I need some alone time. Please."

Harry hesitated, but inevitably waved him off. "All right. See you in a bit."

"We'll be right over here," Jessica motioned to a spot near the outskirts of the crowd.

Peter nodded, although he had no intention of finding them later. In fact, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd stay at the dance. Then again, Al and Gert didn't look like they were having much fun. The two stood toward the back of the gym on their phones, not showing so much as a hint that they recognized one another's presence. Maybe he could help the two connect, and give himself some sort of peace by living vicariously through their relationship.

After walking over, Peter began, "Hey, guys."

"Later, dude. We're in the middle of a game of chess, and I need complete silence to plan six turns ahead and kick her hipster ass," Al said without looking up from his phone.

"Keep dreaming, nerd," Gert replied.

"Right…" Peter mumbled, backing up, his mood that much worse for trying.

"Silence!" Al exclaimed.

Peter disappeared around the side of the crowd, making sure to stay clear of any tight spaces. The last thing he needed now was to have an anxiety attack.

That's when he stumbled across Gwen and Flash.

The two were situated at the punch table, their arms wrapped lovingly around each other. Peter wanted to vomit. He tried to sneak around the punch, but Gwen noticed him before he could so much as take another step. Her face brightened, and she pulled away from Flash.

"Hey, Peter!" Gwen said.

He pretended like he didn't hear her, and kept walking.

"Yo, Parker! My girl's trying to talk to you," Flash shouted.

Peter froze, then slowly turned toward them. "Hey, guys. Sorry, I didn't hear you…"

"Don't worry about it. You getting punch for Cindy? It was so cute how you asked her, by the way. Flash could learn a thing or two from you," Gwen rambled. Flash rolled his eyes.

"It was all Harry's idea," Peter haphazardly filled up a cup with punch, splashing some on his tux. "And yeah, I'm—yeah, getting Cindy a drink. And me. Both of us. We're punched—I mean, parched."

Flash interjected, "Be careful with that stuff. You know Randy Robertson?" Peter nodded. Flash dabbed the punch on the nerd's jacket with a napkin, causing Gwen to smile. "He spiked it with everclear. Just…take it easy, yeah?"

"Easy, absolutely," Peter agreed, his mind going blank. He downed his glass of punch, then refilled it without a second thought. "I'm trying to have a good time, man."

Flash grinned. "You are lit as fuck, dude. I love it," he cheered.

"Peter, don't—" Gwen began.

"I need to get this to Cindy," Peter said, filling up a second cup. "See ya."

He didn't hear a response. He didn't bother to look back. Truthfully, he was afraid of what he'd see. Not just the couple's affection for one another, but the disappointment in Gwen's eyes. Disappointment that Peter wasn't the person everyone thought he was—or could be. Ben, May, Cindy, Harry, Jess, Gwen…Peter had looked like a jackass in front of them all.

He finished the other two cups of punch before he reached the exit. None of the teachers offered more than a nod as he passed them. A warmth coursed its way to his heart as he stepped onto the sidewalk, masking the cool autumn breeze.

Peter ripped off his tie and stuffed it in his pocket. He needed to take a walk to clear his head, because if he went straight home and his aunt and uncle confronted him, he'd probably lose it. His self-hatred had bled into anger. Maybe the alcohol was already hitting him. Maybe years of isolation—both mental and physical—had finally broken him. Maybe he was just a douchebag.

Peter didn't really give a shit what was behind his rage. He just pitied any asshole dumb enough to screw with him.

…

Max stumbled down the street, nearly tripping over a homeless man. He immediately regretted not talking to the man when he crossed the street. He was about to be in that guy's position. He should have asked for advice. How the hell do you survive being a complete and total piece-of-shit failure?

Max's mind wandered when he spotted a gas station at the end of the block. He reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet, but found only the pistol. He checked his other pockets, cursing quietly—or was he shouting?—to himself. The wallet was nowhere to be found. He'd either left it in his apartment or dropped it on his drunken adventure.

Max gently fingered the firearm, his mind racing.

…

Less than ten minutes later—or had it been longer?—Max emerged from the gas station with a six pack of beer. He hadn't robbed the register, although he'd been tempted to. The cashier had been flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"'Not the cash?'" Max poorly mimicked the man's Indian accent. His voice dropped as he mumbled, "No, dumbshit. Not trying to ruin you."

Max cracked open a beer on the curb and downed it without taking a breath. Soon, maybe, he'd be able to finish the job and…

Like hell.

Max threw the bottle at a parked car with a guttural roar. It shattered upon impact, and activated the car's alarm. He opened another beer and waited for someone to confront him. Pedestrians glared at him, but not a single one spoke up—not after seeing the gun in his hand. They all ducked their heads and hurried away. No one claimed the car as their own. Eventually, the alarm shut off on its own.

Sirens blared in the distance.

"Fuck…" Max ran off.

Too fucking afraid to even get a cop to kill him. Weak—he was so fucking weak.

Max wanted to die. He didn't really give a shit how. He just hoped some asshole was dumb enough to screw with him and finish what he couldn't.

…

Ben knew what he'd find before he opened the door to Peter's bedroom. His son…his nephew, he corrected himself, was gone. Anger swelled up inside him, before quickly being doused by regret. If he'd handled their conversation better, then maybe…

"May, I'm going for a walk," Ben said. "Need to clear my head."

"Be careful. You know how it gets around here after dark," May called from their bedroom. "Oh, and ask Peter if he wants to go with you. He might appreciate the fresh air."

"Will do," Ben replied.

The least he could do was spare Peter his aunt's wrath. He'd find the kid and bring him back before May realized he was gone. Then maybe, just maybe, he could start to rebuild Peter's trust in him.

…

Peter heard the sirens first. He paid them no mind. They sounded far away…but then the screams reached his ears. Close, so damn close—Peter's head buzzed like crazy. What the hell?

He turned around, and spotted the source of the commotion. A lanky black man was running in his direction. Lagging just behind, two cops made chase. Peter briefly considered stopping the criminal before he spotted the gun in his hand. Yeah, no, Peter wasn't about to confront an armed thug.

"STOP HIM!" the lead cop, a heavy-set black man, shouted.

The criminal didn't raise his firearm as he neared Peter. He didn't so much as threaten him. Hell, he looked terrified. Peter could do it. He could stop him. All he'd have to do was extend his foot, and trip him. They were just a few feet apart now. Inches…

Peter stepped to the side. The criminal sprinted by without a word.

"Dammit!" the lead cop roared.

"Not my problem," Peter muttered, caught between shame and rage.

The police officers didn't stop to scold him, but their expressions spoke volumes. Peter had allowed a criminal to escape. The thug was losing the cops, heading straight for the subway. Maybe someone down there would stop him. Maybe…

"Stupid. He had a gun," Peter grumbled, "Couldn't do anything."

Peter hated lying to himself.

…

Max felt alive. It was bizarre, surreal, utterly insane, but he felt truly alive for the first time in a long time. In the chase, he'd run off most of the alcohol and all of his frustration. Sure, he was scared shitless, but the rush—Christ, there was nothing like it! Like a charge surging through his body, the adrenaline crackled inside him. He weaved, picked up speed, and jumped over the subway ticket stalls like an Olympic athlete.

The cops didn't stand a chance. No one tried to stop him, not with the gun in his hand. This—this was real power.

Max didn't have to speak to scare people away. They parted like the Red-fucking-Sea before him, and he made his way into a subway car without any difficulty. The doors slid closed, and the bell rang as a woman screamed. The train took off. Nobody moved in on him. The closest person to him was a bulky brother in a Yankees cap, who stood a couple feet away, shielding his girlfriend. He'd keep quiet…

The Yankees fan curled his hands into fists, ready to pounce. Uh uh, not on Max's watch. He raised the pistol, his finger tensed over the trigger.

"Don't even think about it," Max spat.

The man froze, masked in fear now. The urge to fire creeped into Max's head. That would show them. No one would screw with him if he just—

"Max."

No. No fucking way.

Max looked into the eyes of Ben Parker, who was situated near the back of the car. His adrenaline leaked out with sweat. He felt like collapsing.

"Ben, I—" Max stumbled over his words. He deepened his voice, trying to sound confident, powerful, "Don't play hero. For your own sake."

"Please, put the gun down, Max," Ben urged, his voice steady. How the hell was he so calm?

"I'm not gonna—"

"There's no need for violence. I don't know what brought you here, I don't know what happened—"

"I didn't kill anyone," Max caught himself losing control, "But you best believe I fucking will if anybody moves!"

"Please, Max, I'm your friend. I know things have been tough for you lately. I know how you must feel, but I promise if you put the gun down I will help you in whatever way I can."

Ben took a step forward. Max aimed the gun at him. Ben continued to creep up the car. Max clicked off the safety. Ben stopped.

"Don't. Fucking. Move," Max growled.

That's when the capped man lunged at Max. He reacted quickly, shoving the man back before he could do any real damage. Max cracked, uncontrollable rage exploding out with a scream. The capped man's girlfriend cried out as he stumbled back into her. Max raised his pistol and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

…

Peter avoided the subway terminal the criminal had taken, opting for the next stop a few blocks up. Police cruisers raced past him as he strolled down the sidewalk. Damn, for just one guy with a pistol, he'd caused a hell of a commotion. Maybe he'd shot someone.

As Peter neared the subway entrance, a couple police officers emerged from a cruiser parked at the side of the road.

"Hey, kid, don't go in there!"

Peter ignored them, heading underground. A few more officers were holding back a crowd at the bottom of the escalators. As he creeped down, he spotted paramedics in the distance, carrying someone toward the exit on a stretcher. Intrigued, Peter pushed his way into the crowd, as dozens of voices echoed together.

"Make way."

"Oh my God, was he shot?"

"Move!"

"What happened?"

"Jesus Christ…"

"Kid—move!"

Peter parted with the crowd, allowing the paramedics to pass. His eyes edged down to the body, the victim…

Peter's mind went blank. He moved like a ghost, floating after the paramedics, screaming. What was he saying? Who the hell was on the stretcher? It wasn't—he hadn't seen it correctly. It couldn't be—

"Ben!" Peter cried, tears racing down his cheeks.

One of the two police officers who'd tried to stop him earlier grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away from the paramedics as they ran up the escalator steps.

"Kid, what did I tell you? Don't—"

"That's my uncle!" Peter screamed.

The cop's jaw fell open, and his grip loosened, giving Peter the opportunity to chase after the paramedics up the stairs. He caught them at the top of the entrance, and tried to stop them.

"Please, wait, that's—" Peter spotted his uncle's pale face again. He choked on his words.

His uncle tilted his head, and looked at him, eyes glazed…

"Shit, he's not breathing," a paramedic shouted.

They set Ben down and tried to resuscitate him. Someone—Peter couldn't tell, didn't care who—pulled him away. He didn't fight back this time. He just stared, blank-faced, at the crimson spot on his uncle's chest. A target. It looked like a target. Why was there a target on his uncle's chest?

"I'm sorry, kid," someone said, "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Peter mumbled.

The paramedics carried his uncle to an ambulance. They looked sullen. The hop in their steps, the adrenaline, it was all gone.

"I'm so sorry."

…

"Who did it?" Peter asked, his arms tight around his knees as he sat on the subway steps.

The police officer who had tried to comfort him, one Yuri Watanabe, sighed, "We don't know. We…we'll catch him, alright? I swear."

Peter dry swallowed. He couldn't take his eyes off a piece of pink bubblegum on the ground. It looked so weird, so bright, like neon paint.

"So, were you…your suit, were you at a dance?" Watanabe asked. "Homecomi—"

Suddenly, her cruiser's radio crackled to life, "Requesting backup on 57th for a 10-24 S. Perp's in the Stark Reactor."

Peter perked up, "Is that…"

"Probably something else. Just…breathe. Your aunt's on her way here now," the cop said.

"Can you check?" Peter asked.

Watanabe paused, then reluctantly nodded. She walked over to her car and reached through the open window for the radio. "10-5, is that the douche from the subway?"

She glanced down the street at her partner, who was smoking a cigarette alone. The radio crackled…

"Yes. We're cornering him."

When Watanabe looked back at the subway entrance to confirm the message to Peter, she discovered he'd disappeared. She circled around, but couldn't find him. Her partner met her panicked gaze, and took a drag.

…

Peter ripped off his suit and threw the pieces aside as he leaped across buildings until he was in nothing but his new spandex suit. Crimson gloves in hand, he slipped them over his webshooters, then reached into his single back pocket for his mask. Peter's eyes flashed down to it for a moment. Harry's design was slick. Transition lenses stared back at him from atop a webbed pattern, which continued down onto the red and blue suit. A black spider clung to his chest, making the symbolism clear.

He was Spider-Man.

Peter threw the mask on and fired a webline at a skyscraper. With a quick breath to calm himself, he swung away, narrowly avoiding the side of a building. OK, so he had some practice to do, but now wasn't the time to stress about it.

Driven by anger and instinct alone, Peter swung toward the distant Stark Reactor.

…

Max had made a huge mistake. Multiple, in fact. He knew that, and he was beginning to regret them with all his heart. Teary eyed, his mind a frantic mess, he had hopped the fence into the Stark Reactor, a maze-like, half-built facility with a shining blue heart. The Arc Reactor hummed as its azure energy circled the open generator. Over a period of minutes, as Max wound his way up the stairs above the reactor, police sirens drowned out the generator.

With shaking hands, Max unloaded his pistol clip to check the bullet count, only for it to slip out of his hand and into the reactor below. The generator incinerated the clip in a flash of light. Max cursed to himself. One bullet. That's all he had.

"What a way to go," Max grumbled to himself.

"You deserve worse," came a new voice. Young, male, but sharp—angry.

Max swiveled around, finger on the trigger, a nervous wreck. He couldn't see anyone else in the darkness. The only source of light was the generator many floors below.

"Who the f—"

Suddenly, a shadowed figure leaped toward him and tackled him onto the walkway over the generator. Max lost his pistol during the fall. The walkway shook beneath his weight. Without looking at his assailant, he tried to punch the other man, who caught his fist. Terrified, Max looked into the eyes—or rather, the crimson mask of his assailant.

Daredevil? He'd heard stories, but thought the vigilante worked no further than Hell's Kitchen. And this guy's mask, it was patterned with…were those webs?

"WHY?" the vigilante roared. "Why did you kill him? What the hell is so wrong with you that you think it's okay—"

"B-Ben? How do you—" Max stammered.

The vigilante punched him quiet, then continued, "You're a monster. And you're never going to hurt anyone ever again."

He pulled Max up and pushed him against the edge of the walkway, illuminating his face in the generator's light. Suddenly, the vigilante recoiled back, and Max could make out shock beneath his lenses.

"You…" the vigilante couldn't complete the thought.

Recognizing this opportunity, Max lunged, but the wannabe hero sidestepped him. The walkway tremored and caused Max to lose his balance. He tripped over the side, only to be caught by the vigilante, who had snagged his wrist.

"Hold on," the young man said, "I've got you."

But in the vigilante's dark eyes, Max saw Ben's, and he felt himself pushing against his savior's grip.

"What the hell are you doing?!" the vigilante yelled.

"What I should have done a long time ago," Max uttered, then pulled free.

The vigilante screamed, but Max paid him no heed, his mind lost to a startling peace. He plummeted down to the generator, blank-faced. A crackling overcame him as he disappeared in a flash of blue light.

…

Peter returned home a shocked and frightened child. He crawled through his open bedroom window, stripped down to his boxers, and tossed his costume in the closet. Without a word spoken or a tear shed, he collapsed into his bed. Unable to process sight or sound, he did not notice his aunt's entry until she sat beside him. With the gentlest hands, she placed his head on her lap, and he felt teardrops sprinkle his forehead.

That's when he broke down. His tears fell like stars, drowning Peter in his sorrow.

He cried for his aunt. He cried for his uncle. He even cried for the man who'd killed him, the man he'd let escape—and die. Peter had failed them all.

Never again.

"With great power there must also come great responsibility," he whispered through his tears.

"Sweetheart...?" May sniffled.

Peter wiped at his eyes, then stared at his closet door. At the colorful costume hidden in the darkness. At his future.

"Just something Ben said."

Hope you enjoyed that! Sorry for the wait. Life grabbed me by the balls and wouldn't let go (and I'm working on a novel, so...). I do have some bad news on that front. I'm going on hiatus for this title. I WILL BE BACK. That's a promise. I don't know when exactly, maybe a few months, maybe closer to a year, but I'll return to the title eventually. And when I do, expect what a lot of you have been waiting for - a jackpot, Tiger!

Heart of the Demons: And here are the plans...hope they lived up to your expectations!

Guest: Well...here you go. The origin. This was always intended to be a slow burn story, but we finally made it to the climax.

keyblade master cole: Yep XD

boysa boysa: Glad Pete and Ben's last talk worked for you!

Shady21639: Black Cat will make her way into the title...eventually. I love her character and can't wait to shake Peter's life up with her introduction!

SpyderWeb: Yeah, shit got real haha. Thanks for the review!

DanySnow: Thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoying the story!