Chapter 6

My question had answered itself by the time I arrived at the scene of the crime. Helicopters and police cars surrounded the venue with red and blue lights. From the excessive flower decor and the picture of a nice couple with the words Congratulations Marisa Ann and Tom Conzaguez, I'd say a wedding was crashed. Though why anyone would want to have a wedding in a moss-covered warehouse is beyond me.

Looking in from the edge of a building with the most vantage view. The radio didn't say further updates on the situation other than the fact there were officers inside the building. Thankfully, Mr. Stacy isn't one of them, and he acts as the leader, calling out the bomber with his megaphone, hoping for a negotiation.

Spotting a rooftop terrace, a quick leap was enough to reach it, and I had a perfect view of the venue through the gable glass roof. The guests were on every side, edging back to the walls like they wished they could pass through it and avoid the only fashion disaster in the room.

He was an overweight person, wearing gym pants and a hoodie over his checkered shirt. Even from a distance, a normal person could even tell the red nose he had from crying. But most notable of all was the death button in his right hand was gripping.

The bomber was giving heated glare on the bride and groom that stood in the middle of the venue, a Latino couple. The former could have been a bombshell model at a vogue magazine, the latter… well… he looked... plain… just as overweight, and had one of those airheaded expressions like they wouldn't know if he had forgotten to put on a shoe or not before going outside.

I unlocked the latch of one of the glass panels of the roof, just in time to hear the bomber's outburst: "We could have been together!"

As I suspected; the climax of a deadly love triangle.

I crawled my way through the ceiling, putting myself within the dark corners.

"We're over, Marcus. We have been for the last three years! What part of 'over' do you not understand?!" Shrieked the… groom?! Wait, the groom was the ex in the scenario?! Now there's a plot twist, I never heard.

"What does that bitch have that I don't?!"

I almost lost my handing (is that even an eligible word for the hand-version of footing?) from the shock, but managed to keep myself from doing an epic fall, continuing my slow, steady crawl even as the fight grew heated over (under?) me. I stopped just above the bomber, then using my web to make my way downward, closer to the bomber, and the death switch, in the hope I could nab it out of his hands so the boys in blues could apprehend him.

But my covert act was broken from the single gasp of a little ponytailed girl, looking up with an owed smile that you don't usually find during a bombing threat. The crowd followed her gaze, my heron-name became the word of the day as they broke into a murmur.

Which was bad for my cover since now Marcus is pointing his gun at me.

Why does life never go as planned?

"Hey, everybody!" I flipped from my web perch and landed on my feet. "Missed the invitation, but I came anyway. Marisa, Tom, beautiful wedding, by the way, congratulations."

"Err...thank you?"

"ENOUGH!" Marcus roared, "You. Bug. Put your hands where I can see them!"

"Oi, those are police lines!" I held my hand up regardless and took a step forward, "Shouldn't there be copyright for stuff like that, or at least barred for criminal usage?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Marcus' tone became more and more whiny, even going so far as to stomp his foot. Which was not great when carrying a gun and a wireless bomb switch in each hand. "One more word out of you, and I'll shoot one of the guests here."

"Okay, okay, okay," I held my hand up in a waiting gesture while taking another larger step, unnoticed. My eyes never leave him. "That's fine, no talking, but can I just have one last teeny-tiny thing to say, if you don't mind?"

"What?!"

I let a bit of silence drag, letting the tension grow between us, so the bomber would only have his gaze lock onto my masked face. Made sure his thumb wasn't on the switch. Taking one subtle step to the next as I said one word, "Updog."

Marcus scrunched his nose, "What's updog?"

"Fine, thanks. What's up with you?"

I shot both my web, one on the detonator, the other on the gun, and pulled out of reach. Devoid of both weapons, the cop that was already on the scene made a quick wrap on the guy. Kicking his heels, forcing him on his knees, and putting his hands on his back. I've let the tension flow out of me as he recited the Miranda Rights.

One officer came up to me, a young Asian woman who had intense, sharp eyes but looking less hostile. "Thank you for the assist, Spider-Man, we'll take it from here." She put on her gloves, silently requesting the bomb switch and gun as evidence, and I gladly had her take it from me.

The tension left the air when it was clear they were safe. Some cheered, hugs and tears were shared, and to my shock, most clapped for my intervention. Crying out thank you. It made me a bit on the flustered side, and I wasn't sure they heard me when I tried to play off my part since I'm just the guy who practically made a bad joke to distract and pulled the weapon out of him. Didn't even need to flick a finger.

But what crossed largely in mind was the fact the incident ended sooner than I thought, and that maybe I can still make it in time back to Midtown and finish that dance with Gwen… if she's still there.

At that moment, I blamed my lack of focus when Marcus decided to make one last defiant act by kicking the officer who had him and pushing the woman who had his bomb switch. Caught off guard, she stumbled, the grip of two weapons fell from her hand. And the universe decided to give us a bad hand when the switch fell where the button would be.

Everything moved in slow motion as I shot my web at the last second, moved by desperation.

But I knew it was too late.

The building exploded from the inside out, Flash, fire, dust, and earthquake. My spidey-sense that always helps me get out of danger became a source of splitting headaches. One second it was a nice venue. The next it was rocks and debris, When I came to, everything was darker. My body felt like one big giant bruise. Like after having a double whammy by Flash, only worse. There was still the faint, nauseated ringing in my ears, but why are there still the screams of people echoing in my head?

I groaned. It felt like someone pulled my muscle in a thousand different directions and screaming for being an underpaid employee. I was halfway asking who turned up the heater when it occurred to me that the place was on fire. Piles of debris were piling on me, but I had enough legroom to crawl my way out.

I looked around and figured I was unlucky enough to be trapped in an enclosed space built from chunks of rocks, pieces of bricks, and metal beams like a chaotic rock tent. The gap that showed the flickering fire and the running guests who managed to get out.

I was still disoriented, and sluggishly made my way to the light, when I jumped after almost stepping over an unconscious person. "Hey, are you okay? Of course, you're not. What am I saying? Err, Sir, Sir, please, I need you to wake up-"

I turned him over and only to find the bleeding face of the groom, half his body crushed by a metal beam, and large shrapnel of glass went through his eyes.

I screamed.

I screamed.

And screamed like a wailing ghost. Horrified but couldn't look away at the lifeless pair of eyes that see nothing yet as if to gaze back at me, judging me.

I jumped back until my back hit jagged debris as I got further away. My legs lost strength and I went sliding down. The snot from my cries clot my nose and the bile clogged my throat. Making it harder and harder for me to breathe, so I pulled off my mask as if it was suffocating me. My limbs were shaking all the while, making it harder for me to move. But it didn't make things better. Instead, it felt like there's little air. When I did get a lungful of air between, it only choked me from the tainted smoke that was spreading.

And I couldn't seem to see anything but the ghostly eyes of the now corpse- Wait... is this a panic attack? Am I having a panic attack? Oh man, now I'm panicking from having a panic attack.

I managed to pull my eyes off him, and tried focusing on the pile of rocks barricading me. My rapid breathing doesn't seem to help as my lungs threatened to burst out. The faint ringing in my head began to ramp up way high as I seemed to hear every background noises around; the crackling woods, the high pitch yells, the hard thumps of running feet. Causing a massive headache for me and making it harder to hear myself think.

"Help! Help! Somebody! Anybody! Please, help me!"

I didn't know how long I cried out for help with nothing to show for. But I doubt anyone listened, drowned by the sound of sirens and screams from the other side. My body started curling up, rocking back and forth. I pressed my face to the ground as I cried with tears streaming down, not caring how pathetic I acted and looked. My spider-sense told me to move, to get out, but I couldn't find the will to do that. Stomach churning as bile threatened to slip out.

"... I don't know what to do… somebody… please help me...

"...hello…?"

I almost jumped from where I stood when the out of place voice was heard. My head whipped around, and for a moment, I thought I was hearing things. I latched on to the hope anyway and perked up my ear.

"...is...is someone there...it's dark...hello…"

The little spark I had become dreaded cold at the small, innocent, childish voice.

I pinpointed it immediately, and dread filled me when I found it came from a pile of rubble that towered high upon the source of the voice. I went for the bricks and blocks of cement I managed to dig out, but the metal beam stuck in between groaned and pieces started falling like a bad played Jenga until it didn't.

"Hello, what's going on? Can, can somebody help me?

I took out my surviving phone and turned the flashlight on, hoping it might reach her "Hey, hey, kid, can you hear me?"

"Who… who's there?"

"Friendly neighborhood… hic…. Spider-Man here, but you can call me Spidey," My cheer slipped out as easy as I slipped on my mask, "Boy, are we in for it. Are you all alright? I mean, are you injured or anything?"

The clear voice of the little girl sniffed, "No… but I'm scared. Spi, Spidey, ca, can you help me?"

There's a lot I wanted to say. I'm scared too. Help is on the way. I don't know how to help. It's going to be alright. A part that seeks help and another that wants to offer it threw me into a dilemma. Until I had my gaze down and saw my reflection on the mirrored glass of the eye lenses from my mask, and what I saw was a wreck. Broken lip. Bruised cheek. Bleeding, snotting nose. Wet eyes striking with fear.

For some reason, Uncle Ben began to flash in my mind's eyes. Smiling that patient smile of his when I cried from the bullies that kept picking on me because I told them off and confessed that I wished I kept my mouth shut. Ben just patted my back and said, " I know doing the right thing is never easy, there's always a price in every choice you make. Because every time you stay silent for these things the more your soul is taken, again and again, until you become a person who doesn't care about people, whether from the sideline or hurting them yourself. You just gotta ask yourself, Pete, if that is what you want? Is that the kind of person you want to be? Can you take pride in being that person? "

I remembered shaking my head and asking, " Then what should I do ?"

" Be strong, Peter. For now, be strong. Just know when the goings get tough, I'll always be there for you. "

There was no one here for me

But Spider-man can be here for her.

For her, he can be strong.

Bracing myself, I put the mask back on. "Yeah, yeah, I can help."

"Really?"

"Really, really. So, what's your name? I can't keep saying 'you' in my head or otherwise."

"It's… it's Cindy."

"Okay, Cindy, I'm going to start helping you, but to do that you're going to have to help, so we'll be helping each other, can you do that?"

A pause, then, "Un, understood."

"Great, now Cindy I want you to check yourself for injuries. Any serious cuts you might have or pain that keeps showing? Can you move at all?"

"Uhm, just a few bruises here and there. I'm not bleeding or anything, and I can still move around so I think I'm fine."

"Great, great, is there anyone with you?"

"No, I'm on my own."

"Okay, then Cindy, I want you to watch out for any lights breaking through the cracks. Watch for any gaps from your side!"

She was silent for a few heartbeat moments while I shone the flashlight through any gap that might have reached her until I heard, "I see it, there's a large gap just above me!"

"Awesome-sauce!" I cringed at my own words, but pressed forth anyway, "Now Cindy, left-field question, but do you play in the playground often?"

"Sure I do, Silly, every kid does."

"Cool, cool, cool, then do you know the monkey bars or the jungle gym? Do you often play there?"

"Are you kidding? It's my favorite. I'm the best among my friends just so you know."

"Then can you climb up toward the gap, Cindy? It'll be no different to climbing the jungle gym. I'm sure you can do it."

"I, I can't."

"Yes, you can, Cindy. You need to if you want to see your parents again. You want to see Mom and Dad, right? Can you be brave for them, Cindy? Just for this moment."

For a few seconds there, there was no response, and I was afraid she lost consciousness because of the smoke. But then I picked up the grunt and wheeze of her breath and finally managed to spot the growing shadow of her figure. I cheered her on, patiently waiting for her to get to the top. My limbs were still shaking, and my breathing was still erratic. But focusing on Cindy somehow managed to keep a reign on my pain. But then her feet slip, her grip loosened, and I shot a web before finally pulling her at the last second., holding her in my arms at last.

"That was great, you were great!" I complimented her, noticing how much she was holding the tears that were already breaking out from her red-rimmed eye, washing away her sooted face. I made a leap from one wall to another and escaped the burning building. I made a beeline to the paramedics and handed her to a reliable authority. I didn't take time to pause before swinging right back into the building, knowing there were more people still stuck, more people got hurt, and more people who needed help.

I used my super-senses to the max as I tried sensing, searching for any life trying to find a hand to hold on to. I helped to dig out people, carrying people that were too hurt to move or unconscious from smoke poisoning, But at times I would spot men and women lying unmoving, my sense was enough to clue me in whether I was too late. 'Too late… always too late…' and focused every second of every minute giving people the second chance they need.

Then through the flames and smoke, I spotted Mr. Stacy is among the first responders who went inside and is trying to help pull up a half-buried man. He tried as best as he could, but he wasn't fast enough to dodge the crumbling roof that started breaking down and falling toward his spot. I swung hard and beeline to him, catching the heavy debris that could have knocked him dead.

There was a part of me that really wanted to see the look on his face, getting saved by the same guy you had been trash-talking barely an hour ago. But there's no time for that childish ego. Grunting, I threw the roof away and locked eyes with crystal blue eyes that reminded me so much of Gwen's. Only his pair was more weary, hardened, and assessing all at the same time. He took one glance from my soot-covered, burned costumed before focusing back on the trapped guy.

"Think you can help me pull him out of here?"

Think? I do you one better. I know I can.

I stood next to the victim, and I prayed my spider-strength to not fail me, but then I gripped the metal beam, and I hissed from the scorching heat it conducted from the fire.

Errr, scratch what I said earlier. This might be a bit tougher than it looks.

' Come on, Peter, come on! ' Shaking my arm to loosen up a bit, I held it up with my whole arm, gritting my teeth to suck up the pain. ' Come on, Peter, come on! ' The searing heat was more than unpleasant, but I drowned out my pained grunt. ' Come on, Peter, COME ON! ' I lifted the beam as well as the pile of rocks and other beams to make space for Mr. Stacy to pull him away to relative safety. Once out, I dropped the ton of weight and helped usher them out of the building.

Before I knew it, he had been the last left alive that we salvaged from the building and lost the strength of my leg when it occurred in my head that there's nothing else more to do. I was barely aware that the paramedics had pulled me away and had me breathe their oxygen mask. I was a bit out of it, but I think I made a bit of commotion from having to forcibly pull up my mask.

Having oxygen filling my head instead of poison helps clear out my thoughts and actually took in the disaster happening around me. Firemen were still trying to tame the flames. People in uniforms were either treating or handing out blankets for them. I wasn't sure why they would do that when they had been saved out of a burning building until I noticed I was shivering myself.

An angry cry cut through the night's bustle, my head instinctively turned to the source of trouble, and sighted the disheveled bride, looking close to murderous as she was held back by the police from clawing the hell out of the bomber. Her tears smudging her mascara into blank inkiness, which really complements her furious look, "You killed him! Tom's dead because of you! Are you happy, you murderer?!"

Marcus didn't look at all thrilled, in fact, he looked devastated, dead in the eyes as he gazed at nothing else but the destroyed building before being pushed to the back of the police car. For whatever reason, I was reminded of myself. Angry, bitter, and wanted to lash out on anyone. Only in his case, he found out the worst way possible how his actions didn't make things better for him. Leaving the culprit and the victim grieving, and dead bodies around. All that tragedy could have been avoided had I-

A familiar face walked toward my side. Seeing the questions just brewing to be asked, I pulled off my oxygen mask. "Are you here to arrest me?" I winced at the harsh croak of my voice but immediately felt thankful that it helps to mask my voice.

Mr… no, Captain Stacy stood there, arm crossed that showed the rough line of his muscled arms, and one of the best poker-face etched on the hard-line on his face. The longer his blue eyes bore his gaze, the more I sweat under my mask. Man, how does he do that? I've seen it in crime shows but is that a superpower that seasoned cops have?

"I don't like you, and I don't like how you work or what you represent." Ouch, way to pull off the punches. "But far be it for me to cuff the man who managed to reunite a family, even I admit we couldn't have done it without you today."

"I couldn't save everyone, though."

"No, you didn't, it's…" the Captain exhaled roughly and even wiped his face in exhaustion. "Look, do you want to know why I don't trust you?"

"Err… it's not any of my business but... I guess?"

At first, he didn't say anything, just pointedly gaze at the lines of body bags being carried away and the group of grieving people that made my heart constrict from the sight.

"This job isn't for the faint of heart. Some days your best might not be enough to prevent tragedies, other times you might have an off day, and that's all it took to have your life taken. Spider-Man, I respect the effort you took to put yourself out there to help people, but if you keep doing what you're doing. You're going to face a situation out of your control, you're going to see people die, and you'll find out no matter how hard you try, you can't save everyone. And worse, you might find yourself dead in a ditch without anyone to help you.

"I'm a trained, seasoned officer and know how to deal with it… I'm still trying to deal with it. But I know what this life takes from me, and so do every officer here. They don't need to have convenient powers or a fancy suit for me to risk their lives when I asked them to. I don't… I can't put my trust in someone who I don't know who's willing to risk the same thing. To me, our badge is a symbol of our oath to protect this city, can you say the same for your mask?"

Every word Captain Stacy hit me stung. Before, it felt unfair for him to judge me in the car as if he's entitled to know my reason and treats me like I'm a loose cannon. But now? I can't refute him. Not when I had been close to giving up in that building. For the first time, it felt like my powers had felt useless against the disaster that happened because of chances.

But can I keep doing that? Over and over again? Putting myself out there when all odds are against you without succumbing to the dredging hopelessness? Can I guarantee to not fail when failure is not an option?

Captain Stacy, as if confirming his thoughts from my silence, nodded, and walked away with the last word.

When the paramedics told me I was in the clear, I got on my feet, ready to get back when a small tug on my suit made me look down.

"Spidey!"

I barely turned before a whizzing figure threw themselves at my leg, and I had to keep myself falling off my butt. I looked down and faced the missing-teeth smile from little Cindy. I crouched so I would meet eye-to-eye with her. As fast as a cobra strike, she engulfed me into her small tight hug, but the force almost threw me back before patting her in the back. "Thank you for saving me!"

The innocent sincerity she gave made my throat clogged up. Fresh tears began to burst as the warmth in my chest, and despite no one seeing behind my mask, I rested my head by the crook of her neck, hiding it all the same. It didn't make the loss, the disappointment, or the failure easier. But she reminded me of the small victories.

I saw a couple running toward us, and I didn't take a rocket scientist from the worried look on their faces that it was her parents. Cindy jumped from my arms to her mother as they shared quiet sobs of comfort of being in each other's arms. I couldn't look away, not if I wanted to burn the sight to my memory. To remind me what I was fighting for.

The man I presumed was her father grabbed a firm hold of my shoulder, "Thank you, for giving our daughter back," he said before pulling me into his arms, which...Woah, he's a really big guy. Kind of carried me off the ground from how skinny and gangly I was compared to him. Good, God, man, how much do you work out?

After he let go, I gave him a nod of acknowledgment and took to the skies of New York. One crisis is over but the night isn't over, and neither is Spider-man.

. . .

Gwen Stacy was not having a good day.

She was mad, no, furious at Peter. Here's this dorky who she (might) have a crush on since 10th grade and is a perfect gentleman who asked you out for the Prom only to bail out at the last minute. Gwen had thought the night was going to be magical and there had been a good vibe between them, she was sure of it.

Gwen knows Peter has issues though. Ever since his uncle, he was never the same. Always late for class. Looking either like a dead beat or bruised Dad after a terrible night shift for three days in a row. He got more shifty, slept in class a lot to get detention from it, but around her, he was still the same cute, dorky Peter.

He got issues, Gwen gets that. But it's one thing to deal with his problems and asking someone to help with your problems, it's another to be thrown off guard by his one-eighty and leave her dealing with the fallout of her emotion as he dumped her in the middle of their dance.

Gwen likes Peter. She really does. If not as a crush, then as a friend. But she's not going to roll over and said she's fine, thinking his issue is a good enough reason to hurt her like that.

But Monday comes, and she barely sees Peter for the rest of the day, only the occasional mop-brown hair within the sea of students crowding through the hallways. She didn't even see him in class. Gwen huffed and decided ' Fine' He can avoid her as much as he wants but not until she gives him a piece of her mind.

Gwen tried keeping her gaze to herself, and let her chance take her when it could. But it never occurred to her to find him on the bleachers across the football field. Alone, watching the Midtown's Team in their practice, which she knew better than most, he wouldn't have any interest. At all.

Curiosity overcame her and Gwen tried to slowly and silently walked to his side. Whatever she was expecting to find, it wasn't this. Him, looking sullenly to the distance. Dark baggy eyes that she almost couldn't believe it wasn't makeup. The side of his face was discolored as if he had been experiencing bad sunburn when the weather had been mostly off these couple of days. A healing yellow bruise on the side of his forehead.

Looking at him was like cold water was dumped over the anger and disappointment in her, replaced by concern. She had half a mind to walk away just to prove a point that she's not that girl where the guy would look like a kicked puppy, and all is forgiven.

But dammit, Peter makes a cute sad puppy look.

Letting her worries win her over, "You know," Gwen sighed and went sitting by his side, making him jump, "I had an angry rant ready at the tip of my tongue, but then I see you miserable, and I kind of had to ask, what's wrong?"

Peter didn't say anything, and I almost resigned that he's keeping to himself (again) until "I had a shitty weekend."

"I didn't know I was that bad of a dancer."

The way he whipped his head almost scared me that it was going to roll off, "What? No! Gwen, being with you was the only thing good about my nights."

He blushed at his admission, and I blushed from his compliment, and we ended up blushing together like a pair of tomatoes.

"Hmm, well it sure didn't seem that way after you ignored my calls and texts the last couple of days."

His cheeks grew redder, but for a much different reason, "Yeah, I'm sorry, for that, and for the Prom Night too. I just have…"

"-stuff to do." I finished, not surprised by the least for the same reason he kept using it to everyone. I just wish he didn't use it on me. "Yeah, you know what, it's fine. You don't need to worry about it." I got up and started walking away-

"Wait!"

-but then Peter came and blocked my path, and I was startled by how fast he got before me. His mouth opened and closed, I waited patiently until he found the words he needed to say.

"I've been, you know, lying. A lot. I don't want to do that. Especially not to you. I can't tell you everything but… but I'll try so… here goes." He inhaled deeply like he's bracing for the punch that would knock him out, "When Uncle Ben died I made a promise to myself…"

Gwen's eyes were blown wide, not expecting him mentioning his Uncle. If there's one thing Gwen wished she had had the chance to do, it would have been meeting Peter's uncle that he so obviously loved so much and took in as a role model.

"...that I would put my responsibility first. I hadn't known what he meant before he died, and I'm starting to understand that a bit more. But then I asked out this pretty, funny, nice, and great girl to the Prom, and I thought I could put a hold of that responsibility for one day so I can give her a good time."

Gwen didn't know he could blush even harder, but it was clear Peter was trying, with him avoiding her eyes, and yanking the back of his air as if every word he said needed to be pulled out like a hard tooth from his gum. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he pressed on anyway.

"Then, then, during that night, I couldn't choose this girl over my responsibility. And I realized I don't deserve her. Because she deserves to have someone who will put her first for whatever reason. Someone who knows you're one of the most stubborn, competitive women out there so he should think twice if arguing with her is a wise decision, Someone who knows you would become impossibly grumpy if you don't have chocolate while you're working. You deserve someone who only takes one look, and you know what an amazing girl she is-"

He didn't get to finish his words, not when his spidey-sense hadn't warned him when Gwen had stepped closer to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Peter can't say he has a problem with that, seeing as it's not something he wanted to avoid.

At one point, Peter had his eyes closed as he got stuck in bliss. Only opening once her lips fell away from his and seeing her smiling that he loved seeing so much.

"Err, not that I mind, in fact, I don't mind it at all, but… not the reaction I expected when I-"

"Shut up," Gwen said, still with a smile and gave him another kiss. "Thank you, for being honest with me."

There was a moment Peter's mind glazed in bliss before finding the first words formed in his head, "So… does this mean we're good?"

Gwen laughed, "We're good, Peter. See you tomorrow after school?"

"Yeah, yes, I'll see you. Same time, same place?"

"You know it." She waved goodbye and turned her back on him. Gwen had a lot in her mind, some of it was the doubts that still brew in her mind. Whether or not being with Peter was a good idea. Especially when he still has his secrets. But being a cop's daughter, Gwen knew better than most that life isn't one to be wasted wondering about what-ifs, and Gwen had always had a good intuition. She trusts her gut to give Peter Parker a chance.

. . .

"This is Peter Parker," I sighed, my black eye evident, bruises, and burned scar evident for the camera to see, "It's Day 35 and today… was not a good day. Whatever my younger self, thinking superpowers is enough to fix everything clearly is naive.

"I knew that being Spider-Man isn't fun and games. That I went out there to save people. To make sure no one has to suffer the same pain as me. But it never fully occurred to me that taking responsibility in protecting someone's life meant that failure meant death. I knew that in my head, but I thought as long as I have Spider Powers, it would take a matter of time before I can kick ass. Then I learned today that it wasn't enough."

I licked my lips and tasted the blood from the cut that's still healing.

"I learned that having power isn't enough to stop people dying or hurting or making mistakes. It should have been common sense, but I thought, I thought becoming a superhero would mean I get to do more. Change things more. But I think maybe there's more to saving people than just having power. Tonight, my abilities were useless, I was too scared to do anything until a little girl asked me for help. Tonight, I wouldn't have been able to save those people had I given up.

"I'm not stopping the superhero, but I guess I just want my resolve recorded. That being Spider-Man means never giving up. Not on myself or on others."

AN: What I love most about Homecoming was the moment Peter was when all was hopeless with Peter being under the rubble, he learned to picked himself up with his own power without a fancy suit. How being Spider-man didn't come from the mask or the power, but from himself. Lifting metric tons of rubble will be reserved for a future plot device but the scene I made is definitely inspired from Homecoming. Because I want to create Peter's lowest moment in being Spider-Man and how he got back up, and I thought what's worse than failing to stop a bad guy? This is the result.

In Homecoming, Tony help defined Peter during his lowest. While in this chapter, he had Uncle Ben. This is when things started diverging. While Tony made him realized that Peter Parker is the one who makes Spider-man a hero. Uncle Ben, unwittingly made Petter used Spider-Man as armor against people and his own emotion. To hardened himself so he could become the hero the people needed. This will create lots of issues. Issues that would be addressed as future conflict that Tony, Gwen, and all his friends and family will help him go through.