Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, Marvel, or anything related to the sort.

A/N: This is my own continuity, and most likely won't link to any comic book/any canon timelines, and will probably be fresh and new. Sort of like my own Spidey universe. Reviews and likes will be appreciated, please follow for more if you are interested, and check out my other fanfics too. Thanks. Enjoy: Back in Black.

Extra Info:

-Some chapters will include lemon

-May include mature language

-May include sexual references

-May include violence

- Summary -

10 years after the bite, and he was reunited with the symbiote. He was separated from MJ, but he'd found another woman to lean on. With his newfound strength, he was ruthless; unstoppable even. It was too perfect to last when an old foe crept back, back and better than ever. All was not as it seemed with our hero. He was back in black, but not for long. -SpiderCat/SpiderSable- MA

Act 1

Split Personalities

New York. A place where you would expect vehicles rolling down every street corner and people walking in and out of buildings by the minute. People look up to the skyscrapers, and just think about the size difference; how much of an ant they are compared to the buildings. A place where the street lamps glew so bright it made night seem like day. A place where criminals roamed, but where a hero also stood. A place where that certain hero would simply ask himself, "Why?"

It had been 10 years. 10 years since it happened. Since the field trip. Since the spider bite. And he was now very experienced. Of course, he is an avenger anyway. Or whenever he wants to be, at least. To think he could stay in the Avengers Tower for all the time he wanted, yet still chose his apartment. Well, it wasn't that bad. To be fair, it was one of the better apartments out there. It was large, and could probably house about two other people in there. It would probably hit an 8 on a rating out of 10. But it was home for him. Home for Peter Parker. Home for the Spiderman. It was where he strengthened his web fluids, where he played with his chemistry, where he came home after his sky patrols as Spiderman, where he rested and healed his wounds, regained his energy. It was where his memories lived.

Peter was in his classic red and blue spiderman suit, and crawled up the side of a thirty-story brick building, in the midst of the night. He had just defeated Scorpion, and came back with nothing but satisfaction from locking up another one of his old enemies. He came to a large, white-framed window after a lengthly and slow crawl, and he stopped in front, staring at his reflection in the window. He slipped off his mask, holding it tightly in his right hand, squeezing it hard until one of the his eyepieces cracked, splitting across diagonally. He looked and stared at the intimidating eyes and web design overlaying the redness in his mask, now perched on the window sill, a leg dropping down and dangling.

He just stared at it for hours. Yeah, hours. Outside, up high. Oblivious to the fact that anyone could see him with his mask off. Oblivious to the streetlights down below, as cars sped by. Oblivious to the cold and bitterness of the winter night. All he was focused on was the mask. To him, seconds felt like minutes, hours felt like days. That's after what just happened. What crushed him a year ago.

Why? he thought. Why do I still do it? Why do I put on the mask, really? Why do I put my life at risk? Is it truly responsibility? Or is it now that I've got nothing left to lose? Or am I really the mask? Is it who I'm meant to be? His state of paralysis was broken, as he front flipped down and landed on the smooth surface below the window, once again in his crawling position. He accidentally last hold of the mask, mind closed with other thoughts. He watched the mask fly slowly for a few moments, carried by the wind, both eyepieces reflecting the city skyline in the silver moonlight. 'Thwip.' He shot a long thread of mesh webbing at the mask, reeling it back to him.

"Not tonight," he whispered with a sigh, as he pulled open his locked window from the outside, almost breaking it. He flipped back over and cleanly landed inside, feet first. He walked over to the bed, crashing down on it, as he stripped out of his spiderman clothes until only his boxers were left. His iconic red and blue clothing was scattered carelessly across his apartment floor, and the mask was flung onto a door hangar, landing with perfect aim. He got up, fighting the urge to just lay down and sleep, and got into the bathroom, taking in a plain, white bathrobe and a blue towel with him. He was sweating like hell. In winter. He flicked on the lights, defining the bathroom's patterns and contrast between the white and black tiles. He stepped into the shower naked, taking a look at the digital radio he had next to his sink, checking the time. It read, 23:56PM. Not too bad, hell, it was pretty early, considering the past year, and the couple of hours he just spent outside, thinking about whatever the hell he was thinking about. He turned on the shower, as the pressure from the water beat upon his face, gushing down his neck, then running down his muscular figure. It was cold, but it didn't bother him. He enjoyed it on nights like these. His wet abs shone in the light, as he picked up the body wash and shampoo, beginning to apply the products wherever they had to go. Once he was done, he turned on the shower once more, the icy water bearing on his soapy hair and body, sticking his brown hair down onto the sides of his head, until all of the bubbles were washed away. He turned off the shower and stepped out, as water droplets fell from the shower head. Drip, drip, drip. So far, it was the only noise coming from the apartment. He dried himself with the towel, then putting it along the heated railing for it to dry, as he put on his bathrobe.

His eyelids were already so heavy that he could hardly keep his eyes open. He put on a fresh pair of boxers and some light sleeping pants, leaving his upper body naked. He made himself a steaming hot chocolate, not bothering with the cream on top he usually always put on. "Not tonight," he whispered. He walked over and gently sat on his bed, slurping the hot chocolate, enjoying the contrasting heat from the cold, and the chocolaty scent that filled his nostrils. He carried on slurping, and he looked to the desk opposite him. Where he saw the photo. He saw the photo of the woman he loved. Who he witnessed die in front of him. How he witnessed his aunt die. The woman that raised him. How he witnessed his mother die. He remembers it so well. He remembers what happened about a year ago.

- One Year Ago - Hammerhead's Lair - 01:43AM -

There he was. Sneaking in the vent, right behind hammerhead, only a drop down below, camoflauged in the shadows in his black suit, white eyes tracing hammerhead's every move. His white spider emblem across his torso shone in the fiery sparks of the bullets hammerhead used for intimidation. He had a tommy-gun held, with a hostage.

"COME OUT SPIDER! DON'T MAKE ME FORCE YOU, BUG!" hammerhead yelled, violently bashing furniture and spraying bullets into the walls around him.

Spiderman kicked the vent hard until it was loose, making as least noise as possible. He pushed the grate forwards, still holding it. He then aimed and threw it on the back of hammerhead's head. He spun around to spray bullets and light up the place it came from, only to find nothing had been hit.

"DON'T PISS ME OFF! TRY ANYTHING, SHE GETS IT! " he shouted, tommy-gun aimed at the hostage in his arms, who was in fact Peter's aunt May. Hammerhead was quaking with fear. He turned around to find himself staring into the sharp white eyes of the spider. Hammerhead hesitated in his shock, giving spiderman enough time to disarm him, flipping over his body, webbing him mid-air, then pulling him onto the ground with major force, as the hostage was released.

"Get out of here, go!" spiderman spoke, staring into the eyes of his mother, pointing to an exit. Aunt May nodded, kissing spiderman on the cheek.

"Good luck, Peter. Oh, my nephew's grown into such a good man," she spoke, running off in the other direction. Spiderman's eyes went wide behind the mask, and he was stuck in hesitation, as he just now found out his aunt knows who he is. He lost focus. As he stared in her direction, he lost focus on hammerhead. 'Skrrrrrrr,' spiderman heard, until he finally processed what was happening, as he saw the woman before him crumple lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling out.

"TOLD YA SHE'D GET IT IF YOU TRIED ANYTHING, SPIDER! AND WHAT DID SHE CALL YOU? NEPHEW? THIS YOUR AUNT THEN? PARKER?" hammerhead spoke, gun still smoking. Spiderman's eyes filled with unshed tears behind the mask, squeezing his fists together, hands trembling in rage.

"No, no, no," he spoke, dropping to his knees, "NO!" he roared, putting his hands on his head. He cried openly behind the mask. He heard the voices speaking to him... The symbiote.

'Now, Peter, look at what he did. Are you just going to let him get away with this? Him, killing your aunt? The woman that raised you? Your MOTHER?' Those words triggered something in the spider. Something primal. His head burned and blazed, as hammerhead leveled his tommy-gun to his head.

"See ya, freak!" hammerhead gleefully spoke. Suddenly, spiderman quickly shot somersaulting to the side, webbing and yanking his tommy-gun from him, as hammerhead dropped from the heavy pull.

"YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HER!" spiderman roared, breaking the gun in half by simply squeezing it in one hand. He sprayed fluids and fluids of adhesive liquid all over hammerhead, sealing him to the ground.

"Empty threats, freak. We all know you don't kill," hammerhead spoke, grinning.

'Kill him,' the symbiotes continuously whispered in his mind. He couldn't hold back, not anymore.

"I'm not feeling myself tonight!" spiderman yelled in his face, landing a hard blow to his face, repeating it with his other fist, bombing hammerhead's face until he bled. But he didn't stop. He gave in. Frustration consumed him.

'End him,' the symbiotes whispered in his head. Spidey knelt down, until a tendril shot out of his symbiote suit, still attached, and began to wrap itself around hammerhead's neck, slowly choking him.

"Gah, Spider!" he coughed, gasping for air. Spiderman couldn't hold back. He could see he was suffering; his face was blazing red. He brought his hands to hammerhead's head, holding it firm.

'Do it,' the symbiote said. Peter's mind filled with memories of him and his aunt, how they were locked in a tight embrace after his uncle's death. He remembers how she used up all her savings to buy him the chemistry set he wanted after his old one was destroyed. He remembers all the good times they had.

Behind his mask, his face was wet with tears. Rage consumed him.

'We know how you feel, Peter. You know what you have to do. What you want to do. After all, we are you. Avenge her.' the symbiote egged him on, but Peter wanted this as much as they did. With a quick and powerful tug sideways, spiderman killed a man. For the first time. Ever. In an act of revenge, he thought.

- Present -

Peter had finished his hot chocolate, tears streaming down his face, glistening in the moonlight coming through the window. He placed his mug to the side, thinking about what he did. Then, he remembered. About it's consequence. About her. About his 'other half.' He dried his tears.

- One Year Ago - Peter's Apartment - 02:02AM -

"PETER! WHAT THE FUCK?!" Mary Jane yelled, slapping a black suited spiderman across the face, barely hurting him at all.

"YOU KILLED HIM?" Tears began to fall down her face, as she turned away from Peter.

"MJ, he killed my aunt! MY MOTHER! What do you expect me to do?" Peter replied.

"You love that thing, don't you?" Mary Jane replied, "The suit?" she cried openly. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I TELL YOU! LET GO OF THAT THING! IT CHANGES YOU, AND YOU KNOW IT! LOOK WHERE IT GOT YOU NOW!" she shouted, slipping off her engagement ring and throwing it backwards, being caught by Peter.

"So? What are you gonna do? Just break up with me? Huh? MJ?" Peter replied, throwing off his black mask to the ground.

"I DON'T KNOW YOU ANYMORE! WOULD MAY WANT THIS? I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU EVER AGAIN!" she cried wildly, storming out of their apartment, leaving Peter on his own, furiously throwing the ring onto his table, the diamond popping out, and hitting the ground.

"Feeling's mutual," he spoke, shutting the door she left from and picking up his mask.

- Present -

"Feeling's mutual," he spoke. And it was genuine. He just didn't want to see her again. And even when he did when patrolling the skies as Spiderman, he would just ignore her. He didn't hate her. He didn't despise her. He just couldn't bear to look at her again after what he did. But, he didn't still have feelings for her, if you're wondering, not anymore. It was more like a long distant friend sort of relationship now - how he felt anyway. Did he regret what he did? Surprisingly, no. Murdering hammerhead brought him satisfaction. He did kill his aunt after all. Peter had just released all of his bottled rage. He didn't really know what to do now. He let his heavy eyelids shut, and drifted into sleep.

- The Next Day - Peter's Apartment - 06:00AM -

'BZZZZZZZTT!' Peter's alarm rang wildly, signalling his wake. He moaned, covering his ears with the pillow, turning away from the alarm. Come on, Peter, he thought, you've got to get to work. No, not the Daily Bugle, even though he still sold pictures to J. Jonah Jameson from time to time, actually getting paid well; it was easy to take snapshots of the Avengers now that he was one. Heck, spiderman is known to be an Avenger. Easy pics, easy money. But he only went there time to time for quick paychecks when he needed them. Right now, he had a job working for - with - Max Modell at Horizon Labs. What I mean by with, was that Max knew. He was a trusted friend to Peter. You could say, it was like a Bruce Wayne and Lucious Fox thing going on.

Horizon Labs was where Peter and Max made the new improvements to Peter's suits, where they made new ones. Made the gadgets, and all that. He found out who he was when Spiderman had to sacrifice his identity to Harry Osborn's Green Goblin a couple of years ago - he had Max restrained with a blade to the throat. If Spiderman had not removed his mask, Max would be a rotting corpse right now. Heck, every employee knew. It may seem a bit too much at first, but hey, so far so good.

He lazily got out of bed, still half knocked out. He went to the bathroom to take yet again another cold shower and freshen up. He took a granola bar out of a coupbard, and he put on a suit and tie, and made his way over to the labs, packing his spidey suit in a case, stopping for coffee along the way.

- Horizon Labs - 08:00AM -

"Morning, boss," Peter spoke, walking into the workroom where he and Max worked on their stuff together. Of course, they helped the other employees too; Grady Scraps, Uatu Jackson, Sajani Jaffrey and the lot. Hell, even Michael Morbius used to work here. Let's not forget Hector Baez, or Max's husband. And like I said, they knew who Peter was. (For those of you that don't know, Max Modell is openly gay with Hector Baez).

"Peter, you've been working here for three years now, and for the millionth time, call me Max, please," Max replied with a smirk.

"Alright, alright," Peter replied, walking to a locked steel door, Max following behind, "Morning, Max," he spoke.

"Morning, Peter," he replied.

Peter entered the passcode '151962', and placed his thumb on a scanner, which scanned for his thumbprint. The door unlocked to reveal a large, pitch-black room, lights coming on down the hallway, Peter and Max waking in, the door relocking on the outside. The hallway was their secret room. It was a Spider-room. Glass cases on the sides of the hallways had every single one of Peter's costumes contained in them, one in each, from Iron Spider all the way up to Stealth Armour. There were cabinets full of extra web cartridges, gadgets and the whole lot. There were even different chemicals and elements lying around, and formulas for the fluid. Peter walked over to a desk, placing his case on top. Opening it, he pulled out his mask with the fractured eyepiece. He knelt down and opened a drawer, taking out a spare one-way mirror and replaced the eyepiece. He stared at it, and saw Max fold his arms behind him from the corner of his eye.

"Max, listen. I need it back. Or want it, at least. Is it ready?" Peter asked, slipping the mask back in the case.

"Peter, it's not ready. You won't be able to have full control of it, yet," Max replied.

"I don't need full control, Max. Just enough so the symbiote is a little less ruthless. On my page, at least," Peter replied, grabbing extra cartridges.

Max scanned his thumbprint over the door, reopening it as the pair walked out.

"Look, Peter. To tell you the truth, tests have nothing. No way to influence control on the symbiote. I'm sorry," Max sighed, handing him his paycheck for the week.

"All that time for nothing then?" Peter quietly mumbled.

"Look, if you want it, you know where the alien is," Max spoke, heading off in the other direction.

Peter resumed his job working with the others on a new piece of tech; a high-voltage, but non-lethal stunner, capable of near-instant knock-outs and was able to fry electronic devices with ease.

- Horizon Labs - 09:09PM -

Everybody had gone. Scraps, Jackson, Baez, the whole bunch. Even Max. Peter wasn't. They insisted he went, but he chose to stay. He worked on the device, tweaking it and adjusting it. But that wasn't why he wanted to stay. Not really. Peter left it. He put down his tools on the desk, then putting away the blueprints in the cabinets, but leaving the tool in the RD wing. He picked up his case, and walked over to the spider lab. He once again entered the passcode, then it scanned his thumbprint. The door opened. He sighed to himself, walking over to a safe in the corner, stacked high in top of a locker. He jumped up, grabbing the safe easily and bringing it down, placing it on a desk. It's now or never, Peter thought to himself. Sighing, he turned the crank until the safe popped open, revealing a glass vial sealed with a cork, containing a moving piece of slimy, thick and black piece of gunk. He popped off the cork, allowing the symbiote to freely move out of the vial, until it sat idle on the desk, barely moving, Peter moving his hand closer to it. He was an emotional wreck right now, and he knew it.

"I rejected you before. No more. I'm sorry. Forgive me," Peter whispered, as the symbiote suddenly jumped onto his hand, crawling up his arm until Peter found himself looking at his reflection on the safe. He found himself with a white spider emblem on his chest, and back in black. He already felt stronger, faster and more powerful than how much he was only moments ago. Hello again, Peter. Don't worry, forgive you. We understand. You took your first life. It must have been hard.

"Yeah, it was," Peter spoke, "And it was your fault!" he clearly had annoyance in his voice.

Yes, well slow down. Back then, we were like teenagers then. Hungry for desire. What we wanted. What tasted sweet. Anger. Sadness. But, we've matured now. We won't make you a bad boy. Not that much. Promise.

Peter smirked behind his mask, friendly towards the symbiote. He locked his case which contained the classic red and blue suit, tossing it into a corner. He left the safe lying around, and suddenly the room was empty. Short whistles of wind were coming through a newly-opened window, and Horizon Labs was left completely empty.

- New York City Rooftops - 09:30PM -

Stronger. Faster. Tougher than ever. That's how he felt. Amazing. But not like the year before, or the first time he got it. He bulked up since the first time he used it. A lot, greatly increasing his stats anyway, but the suit - it greatly amplified everything. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, taking giant leaps, crashing down perfectly. He kept his momentum, preforming parkour throughout his whole run; front flipping, sliding, web-zipping. He felt amazing. The blackness of the suit shone in the moonlight, defining his muscular tone as he somersaulted through the air. He felt a tingle in his head, signalling danger as he landed on the rooftop below. Behind us, the symbiote warned. As the danger grew closer, he Instinctively and quickly cartwheeled to the side, avoiding a strike. He turned around in a defensive, acrobatic stance, to see a clear female figure smirking at him in her own fighting stance.