Chapter Text
Peter Parker didn't know how to handle being completely alone. Watching his uncle die was traumatic, and hadn't ever faded from his mind. Holding his aunt May in his arms as she bled out thanks to someone she willingly let into her home, well Peter could never, ever forgive Norman, even if he didn't mean to. But when MJ and Ned, and everyone else he could rely on, forgot him? Peter felt he was little more than a ghost walking among the living. He often regretted his selfish choices, wishing he could take back what he did. But it was necessary, to save the world.
Because while Peter Parker was allowed to be selfish, Spider-Man wasn't. Spider-Man wanted what was best for others, and sometimes that meant making sacrifices he otherwise would never had made. Sitting at home, by himself, Peter watched Ned and MJ post videos about their life at MIT. The two smiled so much, dumping all of their joy out for others to see, that Peter sometimes found himself crying at these videos. Between fights with villains, he revisited them, using them as an anchor in the ever-changing sea of his life.
So when he learned of a party being hosted at MIT that both MJ and Ned would be attending, he had his mind set on finding them. He had a huge speech prepared, containing all of the adventures they had shared together. He wasn't sure if they'd believe him, but he had a backup. He knew everything about his friends— calling MJ his friend still stung at him— and if they doubted him, he could prove he'd known them, and they'd known him. This prolonged sense of emptiness had been tormenting Peter for way too long. He had to do something about it, or it would just keep eating away at him.
The day leading up to the party, Peter decided to spend a few hours scouting out the city, in order to stop any villains that could potentially blow his chance at fixing his life. Most of the day held nothing of interest— though the thrill of swinging across New York never got old— until Peter caught sight of something. As he got closer, he recognized that figure, recognized it very well. The Green Goblin— Norman Osborn— was yet again terrorizing the civilians. He had been on the loose for months at this point. Each time Peter tried to stop him, capture him, literally do anything, Norman got away with ease. It was infuriating.
As Peter approached the villain, a train of thoughts flashed through his mind. He seethed with an anger so indescribable, he didn't even stop to make some sort of quick joke before the fight. He propelled himself quickly towards Norman, tackling the man off of his glider. The two flailed mid-air for half of a second, before Peter slammed him against the brick exterior of a nearby building. Peter inhaled deeply, wiping blood off of himself. Strangely, this time it wasn't his blood. It had sprayed from a deep gash on Norman's chest, where the glider had impaled him.
Shit. He hadn't meant to injure the man. He almost felt a shred of regret, but that quickly faded as he removed Norman's mask. The man was smiling, a deep smirk that filled Peter with rage, pinning him against the building's facade as he writhed. Peter felt so powerful then; hand wrapped around Norman's throat, able to feel every heartbeat, every breath, every small movement. If he were to just squeeze, crush Norman's trachea, suffocate the man who had killed Aunt May... it wouldn't bring her back, wouldn't fix all of Peter's issues, but it would fill him with a sense of accomplishment.
Between Peter's ever-darkening thoughts, he heard Norman gasping, sounding old and frail. It reminded him of holding his Uncle Ben as he bled out on the sidewalk. Norman made multiple attempts to speak, all cutting off with a gurgle as Peter clutched his neck tighter. Peter began to release Norman as he saw the man go limp, skin turning pale blue. As he let go, Norman gasped deeply, trying to catch his breath.
"Nice try, kid," he said with that same vile smirk Peter wanted to punch off of his face. "It's gonna take a lot more than that to take me out. Wish I could say the same for May."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Peter growled, grabbing the man again. "You don't get to say that to me, not after what you did."
Norman simply laughed. As if Peter meant nothing, as if he was just a distraction, not a threat. From against the wall, he struggled to get free of Peter's grasp. He was going to show Norman just how much of a threat he could be.
Peter woke up on the side of another skyscraper, Norman nowhere to be seen. The sun had gone down, and the cold night air brushed against his skin softly. Speaking of, he noted that he wasn't in his suit anymore; he was shirtless, only wearing jeans and shoes. His whole body ached like hell, so he supposed he'd just started fighting, and had passed out— an uncommon occurrence, but not impossible. He walked back to his small apartment, and flopped onto his bed. His clock read 9:37, so he had spent almost the whole day gone.
He grabbed his phone, wanting to watch more of MJ and Ned's videos, when he scrolled across a news feed that made him freeze. The headline was short, and simple. Too simple.
Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, found dead
The article featured a picture. Norman lay still on the street, head bent at an angle impossible for humans. Had Peter really— no, he didn't think he had the guts to do something so grim. Even so, part of him felt excited at the news. Now that there was no villain left roaming the streets of New York, Peter could finally focus on fulfilling his goal.
He didn't own anything fancy, being a broke teen, so opted for the most basic outfit possible: A plain shirt, a coat, and whatever pants he found in his closet first. With that out of the way, Peter could finally sleep. After the day he'd had, he found it easy to fall asleep only minutes after laying down.