The sky poured rain for the catastrophe that had occurred. Peter lay by the television in his apartment, just crying out for anyone, for anything.
That's how Aunt May found him. Curled up in a ball, sobbing buckets of tears that rivalled the flowing rain outside. She knew what had happened.
The Avengers had died.
It was all over the news, headline after headline screamed in agony at the loss of Earth's heroes.
The only one left was Spider-Man, but he was just Peter Parker, a scrawny little kid from Queens, how would he ever be able to live up to the expectations the world had for him?
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, yet the rain showed no sign of letting up. As the sky shed tears for their lost heroes, so did the people, memorials and shrines littered the streets, and all Peter could do was walk aimlessly through them with tears in his eyes.
Spider-Man had yet to show his face since the loss of the heroes, and for some reason, the villains had stopped trying to end the world as frequently too, it was as if the whole world, every person to every tree, was mourning.
Peter slumped in front of Tony Stark's memorial, which lay in front of the former Avengers Tower, and he just wept. The storm raged harder overhead, but he paid it no mind. His chest was being weighed down by an invisible force, his despair was all he could think about, and the torture of his guilt was consuming him whole.
He could have done something, he should have gone and helped them on the mission, but no, instead he had to stay behind because he promised Michelle he would attend Debate club for an hour before he rushed off.
If only he had known the implications of how dangerous the mission really was. If only he had been a better hero.
Suddenly, he held his head up and stared at the sky, shoulders back and head tilted.
The rain stilled, and droplets froze in the air, giving a hauntingly eerie atmosphere. Peter grasped Tony's picture from the shrine and wallowed.
If only he had been a better hero.
With that, he woke.
His head was pounding, and his crimson blood pooled where he lay, but the blood wasn't what had him alarmed.
What frightened him was the fact that the Avengers were laying around him, unconscious, but breathing.
The villain lurked around the corner of the warehouse they all laid with a bulky gas mask guarding his face.
Sleeping gas. Peter's superhuman metabolism must have burned through the gas, waking him sooner than the villain had expected. It was all a bad dream.
But then Peter realised as he watched the man pull out a blade, that his dream would soon become reality.
Without another thought, he forced his limbs to wake and jumped into action.
He was going to be a better hero than the nightmares that plagued him deemed him to be. He was going to be the one and only, Spider-Man.
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Still Peter Parker (One Shots)
FanfictionA one-shot collection that has to do with Peter Parker and the Avengers, or even his everyday life. Read to find many different scenarios. (Basically done-- can no longer update regularly due to work) #26 in Peter 2019/05/04 #25 in Parker 2019/06/10...
