Peter's body quaked as his mind tried to process the image of his dead uncle, his dead father. Boiling hot anger flooded through him. He would make this man pay. He would make him suffer for taking his uncle. He would break him. He would break him until there was nothing left but a slab of bloody meat. I'm going to kill him. And it's going to feel so good.

"You damn bastard! You killed him!" cried Peter, hatred fueling his every word.

"He attacked me! I didn't want to kill anyone!"

"He was an innocent man! It's people like you who deserve to die."

And with that, Peter charged. The man raised his shotgun unsteadily and fired, shells bursting from the muzzle. It was pointless. Within a second, his shoulder slammed into the murderer's chest and he stumbled back, dropping his weapon. He scrambled to get up, but Peter stopped him with a ruthless kick to the abdomen. Several pops and cracks echoed throughout the store, bouncing off the walls and filling the ears of those watching. The murderer, who once seemed so powerful, laid on his back, gasping for air. Pressing his foot to the man's chest, the teenager grinned. He applied pressure slowly. Finally, the murderer spoke.

"Please," he choked. "Family."

Those words made Peter pause in his tracks. This man had a mother, a father, grandparents, maybe a brother, sister, or wife. But this man was despicable. He had killed Peter's only father figure. He only had one remaining family member now. The murderer should die, family or not, for taking away Uncle Ben. Slowly, he pushed downward.

"…Daughter."

That did it for Peter. The pressure was lifted off of the man's chest. He grit his teeth in frustration. Despite his boiling hatred, he had to let this man go. He had a family, people who loved him, despite how twisted he was. He couldn't be the one to take him away from them.

And that was when the boys in blue finally burst onto the scene.

Captain George Stacy drove his police vehicle deep into Forest Hills, completely concentrated on the road ahead. His daughter, Gwen Stacy, was in the passenger seat. They had been grabbing ice cream when Stacy heard the news. Benjamin Parker was dead. Ben was a family friend, one who he hadn't spoken to in a month or two, but still a friend. George would often come over for coffee and to chat with the family.

"Why are we heading to Forest Hills?"

George sighed. He knew he would have to tell her eventually.

"We're going to visit the Parker family," he replied wearily.

"What happened?" asked Gwen, panic evident in her facial features.

"Your friend, Peter….his uncle died."

"Oh my gosh," whispered Gwen, glancing at the floor.

In all honesty, George was extremely worried for the family. They weren't doing well financially. Peter had lost both of his parents and now his uncle. And poor May. She would be alone to finish raising Peter. He parked the cruiser in the driveway, next to May's car, and sighed deeply. He hesitated, hands trembling as he reached for his keys. Grasping them, he concentrated enough to turn off the engine, before dropping them. He wiped the precipitation off of his forehead and scooped up the keys. Gwen watched in complete silence, not moving. Finally, George opened the door and stepped out. Gwen followed suit. They shut their doors simultaneously and George glanced down at the keys. He hit the lock button and turned away, approaching the entrance of the Parker household. Blinking several times, he stood in front of the door, hands at his side.

It's always hard to lose those closest to you.

George raised his fist and knocked.

Stomach churning, Peter crashed into the snowy backyard. Damn cops give a decent chase. I can't believe they tried to arrest me. The other guy was the one who killed my uncle! He rolled several times before coming to a stop. He pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Tears poured like rain from his eyes, splattering into the snow. With his full effort, he managed to lift himself off the ground. His muscles barely functioned and he felt like a dead weight. Lifting up his hoodie, he entered through the backdoor, eyes locked on his feet as he stumbled into the household. He wanted to hurl so badly. As soon as he closed the door, he immediately regretted the decision. He contemplated turning back and limping away, but the sound of his aunt's sobs compelled him to slowly make his way toward the living room. Noiselessly, he entered the room and leaned on the doorframe, listening to his aunt's cries for a few moments.

"Aunt May?" whispered Peter.

All attention turned to him.

"Oh, Peter," his aunt murmured, getting up to hug him.

She leaned forward, crying into his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he hugged her back.

"Sh, Aunt May. We'll get through this," he tried to reassure her, although he didn't quite believe it himself.

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned around and locked eyes with Police Chief George Stacy. The blond man sighed deeply, trying to keep from breaking down himself.

"Your uncle was a great man, Peter. You'll get through this, we all will. He's going to be proud of you, no matter what you do."

Peter nodded through the tears. The captain stepped to the side to reveal Gwen. Peter launched himself at her, hugging her tightly and sobbing into her shoulder. He savored her smell, beauty, everything about her that was so comforting. The doorbell rang piercingly. Reluctantly, Peter craned his head toward the door, arms still wrapped around Gwen. After glancing through the peephole, George twisted the doorknob, nodding in reassurance at May. Three people filed in. Anna Watson rushed over to Aunt May, wrapping her into a tight, loving hug. Next came Mary-Jane, her emerald eyes filled with sorrow. She wore a black snow jacket and black jeans. Latching on to Peter, she whispered under her shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," she cracked out. "We'll get through this together, everyone here is family."

Harry shuffled in, almost uncertain at first. He wore a black beanie, with a matching black snow jacket and blue jeans. Shutting the door behind him, his unsteady, icy breath traveled a short distance before dissipating. He moved into the crowd and joined the hug. They held each other close, resting comfortably on one another as silence and sorrow filled the air. After all, if one family member was in pain, so were the rest.

Anthony Edward Stark finished another bottle of Scotch, gulping down the last bit before setting it aside and popping open the next. His throat was like a blazing forest fire. Taking another swig, the fire's blaze increased and he was all but drowning in the boiling hot chemical reaction. Ha. Chemical reaction. Gotta love science. Everything around him spun, but he didn't vomit. He never did anymore. Benjamin Parker is dead. Clint had delivered the news. A shotgun spread to the chest. What a shit way to go. Opening a cabinet of one of his many oaken desks, he pulled out a letter. Focusing, he unfolded it.

Tony,

If you're reading this, then I guess I'm dead. I've sent a similar letter to Bruce, Clint, and Curt. You all have been the best of friends, the best anyone could ever ask for. And that's why I know I can trust you. In my will, it is stated that you will receive all belongings that could assist in your inventions, blueprints, schematics for new floors of Stark Tower, etc. You may have also received my super-soldier research, unless S.H.I.E.L.D. has confiscated it. Do not let anything fall into the wrong hands. Now for the most important part of this letter. If anything tragic should occur to the remaining members of the Parker family, promise me that you, Clint, and Bruce, will look after them. In the afterlife, I will remember all of you. Goodbye, my friend.

Your friend,

Richard Parker

Growling, Tony returned the letter to its home. Even in his intoxicated state, he made a vow. Don't worry Rich, you can be damn sure I'll look after them. As Tony began to fade into unconsciousness, the last thing he heard were the voices of Clint Barton and Bruce Banner.

Two days later, Herman Schultz was in prison and nervous. He was clad in his orange jumpsuit, blond hair swept to the side. Alone in the corridor, he was waiting for them to transfer him to a different cell block when, suddenly, the power cut out. He heard heavy footsteps approaching and forced himself to look up. In front of him was a man with a blood red, skinny tie. He was bald, wearing a full black suit and white dress shirt. The man was lean, with muscles rippling under the suit. The suit was open and flapped menacingly as he walked. The man came to a stop in front of his cell. Schultz was nervous before. Now, he was sweating bullets.

"You!"

"Yes, me."

Schultz stared at the man, absorbing the full gravity of the situation. He was going to die. The man waited for a moment before continuing.

"My employer caught wind that you were going to reveal him to the police. In exchange, they'd shorten your sentence, maybe even let you free. Obviously, those events cannot transpire."

"You're paid to kill, not chat," spat Herman.

He covered his mouth, waiting for the man in front of him to lash out. However, he just smiled coldly.

"Perhaps, but my employer insisted that I tell you why you must die."

"So kill me. Bullet to the head? What's it going to be?" snarled Herman, trying to sound braver than he really was.

"Oh, you're already dying Mr. Schultz. In fact, you have around a minute and a half remaining before your life ends. Which reminds me, I must be going before they manage to get all the systems back online."

"How?" questioned Herman. How can I already be dead?

The man turned and began slowly walking away. Before exiting, he looked back.

"Poison in your last meal. Works wonders. You made a grave mistake. Never double-cross the Kingpin of Crime. Goodbye, Mr. Schultz"

Herman's eyes locked onto the man's retreating figure. Eyes narrowing, he spotted a bar-code on the back of the man's neck.

Then, he slumped forward and breathed no more.

Author's Note: Quick question for you guys. Yes, this is a fanfiction that takes place in the Marvel universe. Yes, the man with the bar-code at the end was Agent 47. I decided to experimentally place him in the story. What do you all think? Do you mind him being in my universe? Sound off in the reviews.

P.S. Thank you all so much for the reviews/feedback. Also, I did not notice this until now, but the author of one of my favorite Spider-Man stories has reviewed. If you're looking for an awesome Spider-Man story, check out JustmeSpidey's The Humanity of Spider-Man.