Prelude: Chapter 3

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The moment you all have been waiting for (I mean, I think, it's a Spider-Man fanfic)

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Peter: (Location- His [used to be aunts] home in Queens)

I tightened the nozzle of my web-shooter with a screwdriver. I was still trying to get used to my old ones after being an Avenger for so long. I didn't miss the Iron Spider suit (the override Tony had on it that turned my body against me would haunt me forever), but I did miss all the lab equipment I had access to.

I could hear MJ in the kitchen as she got dinner ready. I was in the living room sitting on my childhood couch. Aunt May had died over three years ago, but it felt like only a few months. I still couldn't part with her stuff. I knew MJ was probably getting sick of it, wanting to make this our actual home. I knew I was probably being selfish, but I just couldn't part with it. My last family member was gone, all I had left of my childhood was this house and memories.

When I was satisfied with my tinkering, I went to put a web cartridge into the capsule. Though it was hard, only having half a functioning hand to do it. I couldn't help but sneer at the cast encasing my left hand, it went from halfway up my fingers to right under my elbow. There was a brace on my right leg that used to be in a cast as well. It would still be in one if it weren't for my healing factor. It was nowhere near as strong as Wolverine or Deadpool's, but it had saved my life.

I winced and closed my eyes as the sharp memory of the incident came into focus. I'd been surrounded by rumble. Couldn't even remember how I ended up in the remains of Oscorp Tower. I just knew it had gone down, with me in it. Though, I made it out alive, but with cuts and scraps all over me. A deep cut running down my torso left a 9 inch long scar on my abdomen. Not to mention the one on my face.

But that wasn't from the explosion.

I closed my eyes, wishing the memories would go away. But they wouldn't. Couldn't. Especially since their the reason I'm broken.

After all wreckage had settled, but before police and firefighters could arrive on the scene, I stood over a semi covered body of the Green Goblin, my suit shredded as I held my side. Only his massive hand and a wing could be seen underneath, blood oozing out. Maybe that's what I was doing there, fighting Norman. He did die in the explosion, but he had transformed back to human form when the authorities found him.

Strange thing is, I don't remember what I felt in that moment. I remember my head ringing, and when I heard the sirens I took a step back... on my right foot, I'd almost fallen when pain seared up it.

I'd about left, knowing I was hurt. Though, looking back, I don't know why I didn't help to search for survivors. Maybe that's what I was doing. It didn't matter, I'd never know.

His words were still sharp in my mind.

"You weren't supposed to survive."

I had turned around to see someone in a Spider-Man costume, sticking to the side of some piece of metal. I was used to that, there were many of us crawling around New York. But it was strange to see someone in an exact replica of my costume. Well, not exact. Mine had been torn to shreds.

"No matter," he continued, his voice deep and raspy. He crawled forward. "I'll just take you out myself."

He leapt toward me, reeling his fist back. I barely dodged his body and punch. Though it was only by instincts. I was pretty sure I had a concussion. Or I got one from him. I knew when I woke up in the hospital a year later my medical records showed I had one.

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