Peter Parker - The Amazing Spider-Man (Season 4)

Episode 1 - Blue

He remembered it like it was yesterday.
No, he felt it like it was yesterday.
The extreme wind of the portal's pull, the sound of metal creaking as the entire building was collapsing and being sucked into the portal. The screams of... him.
Scum, evil personified. Norman Osborn. God, even saying his name felt wrong.
The only thing more haunting than his final scream was his unforgettable sinister cackle. Burned into his brain... taunting him as the days went on. A constant reminder of the one he couldn't save.
...her.
He couldn't even say her name. It just hurt too much. Every framed photograph of her - and there was a lot - was turned away from him. He couldn't stand the sight of her beautiful smile.
The scary part... he wasn't even sure if she was dead. The moment she went into that portal, he didn't have a clue what had happened to her. As far as he knew, she could've met a fate worse than death...
And, well, so had he. Stuck here, alone, with nothing. He felt nothing. There was nothing.

In reality, it had been months since the night Gwen Stacy died. How many months? Well, Peter wasn't counting. It all blended together in his eyes. He'd spent all this time staying with Aunt May, essentially never leaving his old room. He didn't feel the nostalgia of it like he would've done otherwise... he didn't feel anything.
Harry had become even more unstable since that night, one of his closest friends and his own father.. both dead. Harry basically kicked him out and Peter hadn't heard from him since.
And yes, Peter had completely given up being Spider-Man. The world hadn't seen him since that night and it was concluded that he died along with the other two. They were right, of course, Spider-Man was dead. And... well... so was Peter.

Peter remembered it vividly, walking through the streets of Queens, with the briefcase in hand. The neighbourhood he grew up in.. but he didn't care. He glanced over to a collection of TV screens on display in a storefront, all with J. Jonah Jameson's face on them. He was ranting about how happy he was that the menace Spider-Man was gone and how everybody else should be happy too.
Peter agreed.
He kept walking, eventually reaching the Rockaway boardwalk. It was late and people were beginning to leave, but Peter was going to be quick. He walked across the sandy beach and toward the coastline. He pulled his arm back and HURLED the briefcase - the briefcase with his Spider-Man costume inside - high into the air and watched it land in the water with a small splash.
He looked at his reflection in the water... and for a second, he could've sworn he saw Spider-Man. But in an instant, he was gone.
Good riddance, Peter thought. And that was when he left.

Since then, nothing had changed. Peter had remained stagnant from then until now. Fired from the Bugle, Peter had no job, no friends, not even his own house. Just Aunt May.
God, he felt so guilty leaving her to do everything by herself.
He remembered back when he had graduated High School and was getting ready to go to college. Moving into an apartment with Eddie Brock while working two jobs and being Spider-Man with those Enforcer guys after him. So excited to help. But now... nothing.
Nothing.

There was a knock at the door.
"Peter?" Aunt May called from the other side. "There's... someone here to see you."
Peter was immediately confused. Who? Who the hell would even want to see him? "Okay." Hearing his own raspy voice disturbed him. How long had it been since he last spoke??
Peter got up and walked downstairs. He opened the front door and saw...
Felicia Hardy. She immediately wrapped him in a huge hug. "Oh my god.. Peter!"
Peter was taken aback. She had seen him going after the Goblin that night, she knew they were both dead. She knew it was his fault. Why was she here?
"What are you doing here..?" Peter asked her, almost mumbling.
"I haven't seen you in so long." She managed to say, clearly getting emotional. "I was so, so worried. Are you okay?"
Peter, now with longer, scruffier hair and a stubble, was clearly not doing okay. "No.." He told her, seeing no reason to lie, "I'm not."
Felicia was having trouble with what to say. "I... I just... I'm so sorry. It's not fair." Peter could see a single tear breaking through. But she was fighting back.
Aunt May sighed sadly, sitting on the staircase.
"I can see why you've not... y'know.. been in costume much lately." She whispered to him.
"Have you?"
She sighed. "A little. Few robberies here and there... just to make me feel better. I know you don't like it, but.."
"I don't really care." Peter shrugged. "It's not like I can stop you."
Felicia bit her bottom lip. "Uh.. don't you like Hot Dogs?"
"Guess so."
"Maybe we can get one together." She offered. "I don't think I've ever had one."
Peter's jaw dropped. "You've never had a Hot Dog??"
Felicia smiled, noticing the Peter she knew was beginning to appear. "Anything I eat is specially prepared by the finest chefs in New York, you think I've ever had a Hot Dog?"
"You're missing out." Peter finally stepped outside of the house. "Alright, let's go."
Aunt May smiled.

Peter and Felicia were walking, both with a Hot Dog in hand.
"This is a little... greasier than what I'm used to." She spoke. "But, admittedly, I'm somewhat fond of it.."
"Mhm.." Peter soullessly took a bite out of his. "It's good, but.. I just can't feel it."
Felicia wasn't sure what to do next. That's when they heard a scream.
"Don't hurt me!!" A man ran from a group of thugs.
"I've got to help him!" Felicia gave Peter her Hot Dog. "I'll be back in a minute."
Peter sighed and sat down on a bench. He watched as the Black Cat swooped down and effortlessly defeated all thugs. But instead of cheering, everybody only booed her, calling her a thief - which was technically true. As usual, they only remembered people by their negatives. Peter groaned and left without the Hot Dogs.

He stood on the Queensborough Bridge, looking into the sparkling water. What did he do now? What else was there to do?
He looked into the water.
What would he do next?
He looked into the water.
...maybe?
Exactly what did staying alive accomplish? He wasn't Spider-Man. He didn't have a job. All he was doing was putting pressure on Aunt May. He wasn't happy. He didn't make anyone else happy. Better just get it over with...
But before he could, he heard somebody shouting.
"STOP THAT GUY!!"
Peter looked over and saw a crook, holding a sack, running in his direction.

Peter was suddenly thrust back to 1998, where he was stood in a hallway with a crook, holding a sack, running in his direction.
"STOP THAT GUY!!" The guard shouted.
Peter stepped aside and allowed the crook to run past him.
"Why didn't you stop him??"

Peter looked up at the man talking to him. "What good would it do..?"
The man was speechless but looked like he was about to hurl a barrage of curse words at Peter. But Peter walked away before he could.
"I'll tell ya," He overheard a woman talking to her friend, "Ever since Spider-Man died, this city's been infested with crime. Everywhere ya look, someone's getting their purse snatched!"
"Not like it was any different before." The friend argued. "Who needs that wall-crawling menace?"
"Ah, you listen to the Bugle too much."