A/N: 6k words...
[Harry Osborn/Nightwing's Pov]
I gritted my teeth as I watched the back-and-forth exchange unfold before me. Peter was fighting both of them at once, sparks flying as he kept low to the ground, narrowly evading one attack after another. Weapons sliced through the air in rapid succession, their movements so perfectly synchronized that it was almost as if they were a single, relentless force closing in on him.
"Move!" I shouted inwardly to myself, I could feel the phantom motion of clenching my jaw. "Move, god damn it!"
But my body refused to listen. It felt as though heavy chains had been wrapped around my arms, legs, and neck, binding me in place and leaving me utterly helpless. No matter how desperately I tried to force myself forward, I couldn't break free. I could only stand there and watch as the fight continued, every passing second making my inability to intervene feel that much more unbearable.
'Move, don't be so useless. Just move!'
I poured every ounce of my willpower into forcing my body to obey. At first, nothing happened. Then, ever so slightly, my index finger twitched.
It was barely a movement, little more than a mistake in the stillness of my body, but I felt it. I seized upon that tiny breakthrough, pushing harder, refusing to let the invisible restraints win. One finger became two, then three, each successive twitch bringing me a fraction closer to regaining control.
With every movement, I could feel something building inside me. A strange, prickling sensation spread through my limbs, like the pins and needles that crept into your arms after you'd fallen asleep on them. Except this was different. Beneath the tingling, something deeper stirred, a restless surge of kinetic energy gathering within me, growing stronger with every ounce of effort I put into breaking free. A faint burst of sparks coursed through me as I let the energy build upon itself.
There was obviously something different about Peter, something that set him apart from the rest of us. We all knew it. We all saw it. There was a reason we looked up to him, a reason we willingly chose to follow in his footsteps and become superheroes ourselves. Peter had a way of making you believe that, no matter how impossible things seemed, there was always something you could do to make a difference. He made us want to be better, to stand up when everyone else was ready to fall, and to keep fighting even when the odds were stacked against us.
And that was exactly why I had put on this suit in the first place, wasn't it? To help shoulder his burdens. To make sure he didn't have to face every battle alone. To stand beside him when things got ugly and remind him that he had someone watching his back, just as he had always watched ours.
But what the hell was I doing right now?!
I was standing there, completely helpless, while my best friend fought for his life against two of the most dangerous men we had ever encountered. I couldn't move. Couldn't help him. Couldn't even take a damn step forward.
What good was I to him like this?!
I refused to sit still. I refused to remain a spectator while the person who had done so much for all of us suffered alone.
That wasn't the hero I wanted to be!
I am Nightwing! That's the name I've taken, now I gotta prove that I've earned it!
Peter had always talked about responsibility. The responsibility that came with power, the responsibility to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and the responsibility to keep fighting even when it hurts. He had taught us those lessons through his actions just as much as his words. But what about the responsibility of being a best friend? What about the responsibility of standing beside the person who had always stood beside you? What was the point of being his friend, his partner, his family, if I couldn't even be there when he needed me most?
I could feel a scream building inside my chest, a desperate, furious, battle cry that threatened to tear its way out of my throat. I poured everything I had into fighting the invisible force holding me in place, straining against it until every muscle in my body screamed in protest. My entire body trembled as I pushed against the restraints, my muscles contracting so violently that I could feel the strain running through every fiber.
And then, something changed.
The force binding me began to weaken.
I could feel it, almost like cracks spreading through glass under pressure. Whatever was holding me in place was beginning to give way beneath the sheer force of my determination. I lifted one leg, the movement so difficult that it felt as though I were trying to drag an entire building along with me. My knee shook violently, and for a moment, I thought It might collapse back down before my foot even touched the space ahead.
But I took that step.
One single step forward.
It was pathetic compared to what I needed to do, but it was enough to tell me that I could break through. The chains were fracturing. I could feel them splintering beneath the pressure of my will, and I knew that if I just pushed a little harder, I could tear myself free.
"AHHHHHHH!"
The scream finally erupted from my throat as I threw my entire body forward, every ounce of strength and determination converging into one final effort. The invisible chains snapped apart with a force I could feel reverberating through my body, and suddenly, I was free.
I didn't waste a second.
I took off running, my legs carrying me forward before I launched myself into the air, both feet extended toward Doom's side. My dropkick connected with a satisfying impact, sending the armored tyrant stumbling away from Peter and disrupting his assault.
I landed hard, rolled across the ground to bleed off the momentum, and sprang back to my feet with my escrima sticks already in hand. I landed next to Peter's side, finally where I should have been from the beginning.
"Now it's two against two." I glanced at my best friend and flashed him a smirk, trying to inject a little of our usual confidence into the situation. "You don't mind, do you?"
Peter scoffed, casually angling his fist in my direction. "What took you so long? And here I was, thinking you were going to let me hog all the fun for myself."
I bumped my fist against his, and for the briefest moment, it felt as though everything had returned to normal. We were together again. Whatever came next, we would face it together.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied.
Neither of us wasted another second. We took off simultaneously, leaving streaks of blue and green neon light in our wake as we charged our opponents.
Unfortunately, Doom and Rama-Tut proved to be far more dangerous than I had anticipated. A direct blast from Mjolnir was no joke. If it hadn't been for my suit and my healing factor, I probably wouldn't have survived the first hit, let alone the beating that followed.
Doom took to the air, and suddenly, more of him appeared. One became two, two became four, and within moments, more than ten copies of the armored monarch surrounded us, each one wielding a Mjolnir of his own.
"It seems like Anakin has taken the high ground," I muttered, tightening my grip on my escrima sticks.
Peter and I didn't need to exchange a single word. We had fought together enough times that we could practically read each other's minds. He immediately dropped into a low crouch, bringing his fists together in front of him.
I knew exactly what he was planning.
I ran toward him, planted one foot against his joined fists, and let him launch me skyward with a powerful thrust. The sudden acceleration sent me hurtling toward the airborne Dooms, and I brought my hands together as I rose.
Chi blades materialized around me, forming two rotating halos that shimmered with concentrated energy. With a sharp movement of my arms, I unleashed them all at once, sending the blades spiraling toward the copies in a sweeping barrage while Peter redirected his momentum and leaped toward Rama-Tut, driving a vicious kick toward the time-traveling tyrant.
"All will eventually fall to Doom!" Doom proclaimed, raising Mjolnir as sparks erupted around its head. "For none can escape its verdict! And your verdict for your transgressions is your end by my hands!"
"I'm not gonna lie, I was honestly expecting another Star Wars quote." Peter spoke as I descended, sticking my landing.
"Next, he's going to reveal that he's actually your father." I added with a laugh, unable to help myself.
"Or yours, you're the only one between us that's wearing green" Pete said, shooting me a wink from where he stood, "Like Father like son, eh?"
I snorted, twisting through the air to avoid a hammer strike. "Please. He's way too dramatic to be my dad."
We couldn't help laughing at that.
Apparently, Doom couldn't appreciate our sense of humor, because his attacks grew noticeably more aggressive. The hammer came down with enough force to shatter the ground beneath us, and the next blast forced me to throw myself sideways to avoid being reduced to a smear across the battlefield.
"Okay, okay! I think we offended him!" I shouted.
"Good!" Peter called back. "Maybe this will keep him quiet and he'll stop talking in a third person!"
Unfortunately, Doom wasn't the only one we needed to worry about. Rama-Tut's weapon was just as dangerous, if not more so. I still couldn't figure out exactly what kind of technology or magic powered his staff, but the energy it projected was powerful enough to overwhelm a tank. Every time one of those blasts struck the surrounding architecture, the resulting explosion sent chunks of stone and metal flying in every direction.
I had to keep my attention divided between both opponents, and that was becoming increasingly difficult.
Doom raised Mjolnir, and several magic circles materialized in the air around him. Their intricate runes glowed as he channeled lightning through the hammer, directing the bolts into the circles. Each one absorbed the electricity and amplified the magic, growing brighter with every passing second until the surrounding air crackled with magical energy.
I could feel the difference immediately.
Whatever Doom was preparing, it was going to hit a hell of a lot harder than anything he had thrown at us before.
I gathered chi between my palms and fired a concentrated blast directly at him, hoping to interrupt his attack before he could unleash it. The energy left my hands in a brilliant flash, but the moment it collided with Doom's magic, I realized just how badly I had underestimated the difference in our power.
My attack was swallowed almost instantly.
The magical circles flared brighter, and Doom barely seemed to acknowledge my attempt to stop him.
"Oh, come on—"
"AHHHHH!"
The blast struck me head-on.
Pain exploded across my body as the force sent me hurtling backward, and I barely managed to twist in the air before crashing into the ground. Before I could recover, more magic circles opened above me. Doom pointed Mjolnir skyward, sending a bolt of lightning screaming into the air before swinging the hammer downward.
The bolt split into multiple branches, each one striking a different magic circle. The circles responded by releasing their stored energy, and suddenly, a rain of magical projectiles came crashing down toward me like artillery shells from different angles and directions.
I tried to move.
I tried to raise my arms, roll away, do anything that might get me out of the impact zone, but the static void made every movement feel sluggish and unnatural. It was as though the very space around me had become an enemy, robbing me of the precious fractions of a second I needed to survive.
The first blast tore through my shoulder.
The second punched a hole through my abdomen.
The third threw me across the ground, and the fourth struck before I could even register the damage from the previous ones.
I lost track of how many times I was hit. All I knew was that my body was being torn apart faster than I could comprehend, my healing factor struggling to keep up with the relentless punishment. Without it, I would have died a thousand times over. Even with it, I could barely remain conscious.
My suit was in tatters, its protective layers shredded and burned away in several places. Warning indicators flashed across my vision before flickering out one by one. I could feel blood running down my body, and every attempt to move sent fresh waves of agony through my nerves.
And things only got worse.
Doom turned toward me and leveled Mjolnir at my exposed chest. A sharp bolt of lightning gathered around the hammerhead, its light reflecting off the ruined remnants of my armor.
Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest.
"ARGHHH!"
The blast hit with such force that my arms were flung apart, the impact tearing through flesh and spraying blood into the air. I barely had time to register the pain before the surrounding castle began to crumble. Massive chunks of stone broke free from above, crashing down around me as the entire chamber shook.
I tried to crawl away, but my body refused to cooperate.
The last thing I saw was the rubble collapsing over me.
Then everything went dark.
When I finally regained consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the weight pressing down on me. The second was the silence.
There were no explosions. No clashes of metal. No crackling lightning or energy blasts tearing through the air. The sounds of battle had vanished so completely that the silence itself felt unnatural.
A terrible sense of dread settled over me.
I grunted and began pushing against the rubble with my back, slowly forcing the debris away until I could make enough room to crawl out. Every movement sent pain shooting through my body, but that wasn't what frightened me most.
When I looked down, I saw that my hands still hadn't regenerated.
The wounds ended in ragged, bloodied stumps, and the absence of my hands sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I could feel the lingering power of Mjolnir coursing through my veins, interfering with my healing factor and preventing my body from repairing itself.
Whatever Doom had done to me, it was still affecting me.
I dragged myself out from beneath the remaining rubble, coughing as dust filled my lungs. My knees nearly buckled when I finally managed to stand, but I forced myself to remain upright and looked around the ruined chamber.
Then I froze.
My blood ran cold.
Rama-Tut was lying motionless among the debris, knocked unconscious, bleeding profusely and bruised, but Doom was still standing. He had one armored hand wrapped around Peter's throat, holding him several feet above the ground.
Peter's suit was torn and bloodied, its familiar black and blue colors obscured by dirt, soot, and dark stains. His arms hung limply at his sides, and blood trickled down his forearms before dripping from his fingertips onto the floor below.
For a moment, I couldn't process what I was seeing.
My mind simply refused to accept it.
Peter had survived so much. We had survived so much together. He had crawled out of situations that should have killed him, stood back up when everyone else would have stayed down, and somehow found a way to keep smiling even when the world seemed determined to crush him.
He couldn't lose here.
He just couldn't.
"Doom takes what he desires, and the universe dares not demand payment!" Doom declared, his voice echoing through the devastated chamber. "Let lesser men fear the consequences of their ambitions. Let kings tremble before the judgment of their peers. Let gods concern themselves with the laws that bind their kind! Doom recognizes no such limitations. For where others fear the consequences of their actions, Doom is the consequence that others fear!"
He raised Mjolnir, and thunder roared in answer.
"I claimed this hammer not through the blessing of the gods, nor through the approval of the worthy, but through the authority of Doom himself! And with that same authority, I shall claim your life!"
"Wait, stop!" I shouted, desperately trying to push myself forward. "Doom, don't you dare!"
"SILENCE!"
His bellow shook the chamber. Before I could take another step, Doom turned Mjolnir toward me and discharged a bolt of lightning directly into my chest.
The impact lifted me off my feet.
My body convulsed violently as the electricity coursed through me, and I crashed back against the ground hard enough to knock what little air remained in my lungs. For a moment, I couldn't do anything except lie there, my muscles spasming uncontrollably as the pain overwhelmed my senses.
"You have been granted the privilege of hearing Doom's judgment, yet you dare interrupt him?" Doom thundered. "You have been permitted to stand in my presence, yet you mistake that privilege for equality? Know your place!"
He pointed Mjolnir toward me, its head crackling with barely contained lightning.
"You have mistaken your ability to speak for the right to be heard. When Doom speaks, the wise listen. When Doom commands, the obedient act. And when Doom passes judgment, the condemned do not beg for mercy as though they possess the right to receive it. They bow their heads, accept their sentence, and thank Doom for the honor of dying by his hand!"
I tried to answer him, tried to scream at him to let Peter go, but the blast had knocked the breath out of me. All I could manage were desperate, ragged gasps as I struggled to draw air back into my lungs.
I couldn't even shout.
I couldn't do a damn thing.
And then Doom turned his attention back to Peter.
(Song for a better reading experience: Let You Down - Dawid Podsiadło)
I watched in horror as he leveled Mjolnir at Petey once more. I expected another bolt of lightning, another devastating blast that would tear through Peter's already battered body.
Instead, something far worse happened.
Energy began pouring out of Peter.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
His scream tore through the chamber, raw and agonized, as his body was suspended in the air and his life force was forcibly ripped from him. A strange glow surrounded him, the energy being drawn out of his body and funneled toward Mjolnir as Doom drained him without hesitation.
I had never heard Peter scream like that before.
Not once.
I had heard him yell in pain. I had heard him curse, groan, and cry out when a fight went particularly badly. I had seen him battered, bruised, and pushed to the absolute limit of his endurance. But I had never heard anything like this.
The sound was so full of agony that it sent a shiver through my entire body, freezing me more effectively than the static void ever could. My blood ran cold, and for one horrifying moment, it felt as though my heart had stopped beating alongside his.
"S-Stop!" I choked out, forcing the words past my breathless gasps.
I reached toward him with one of my bleeding stumps, as though the distance between us could somehow be overcome if I simply stretched far enough.
"You're killing him!" My voice cracked, and I could barely recognize it as my own. "Please... I beg you. Don't do this!"
The others were still trapped within the static void, unable to move, unable to intervene. They could only watch and listen as Peter screamed, tears streaming down their faces while they struggled helplessly against whatever force had frozen them in place.
Nobody could reach him.
Nobody could save him.
And I could do nothing but watch as the person I cared about most was slowly drained of his life.
Peter's screams continued, growing weaker as the energy left his body. His limbs began to sag, and the glow surrounding him gradually dimmed. Every second that passed seemed to take something else away from him, another piece of the person I knew and loved.
I tried to stand.
I forced my knees beneath me and pushed against the ground, ignoring the pain tearing through my body. I didn't care if my suit was ruined. I didn't care if my healing factor had stopped working. I didn't care if Doom struck me down again.
I had to get to Peter.
I had to do something.
But before I could take another step, a blast slammed into me from the side.
I crashed against the ground, the impact sending a fresh wave of agony through my already battered body. Through the haze of pain, I saw Rama-Tut rising unsteadily from the rubble, his staff still glowing with the energy that had nearly killed us both.
I barely spared him a glance. My eyes immediately returned to Peter.
"If you want someone's life, then take mine!" I shouted, my voice hoarse and broken. "Take mine instead! Not his!"
I dragged myself onto my knees, my entire body shaking as I tried to force myself upright. Every breath scraped against my throat, and the knot tightening in it made speaking feel almost impossible, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't let this be the end.
"My life doesn't mean nearly as much as his!" I cried. "You hear me?! Take me! Let him go!"
I forced myself to stand, swaying dangerously as I stumbled forward. My legs threatened to give out beneath me, but the pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony threatening to choke me from the inside.
"Let me take his place!" I pleaded, tears beginning to blur my vision. "Pass your judgment on me! Whatever you are doing to him, whatever you think we deserve, punish me instead!"
I stretched my ruined arms toward Doom, my hands gone, my body broken, and my pride completely forgotten.
"Please!" My voice cracked on the word. "It's not too late! You can still stop this! Don't do something you can't take back!"
Doom didn't even look at me.
"LISTEN TO ME, DAMN IT!"
For the first time in my life, I didn't care about dignity. I didn't care about appearing weak, and I didn't care how pathetic I sounded. I would have crawled across broken glass if it meant reaching Peter. I would have given Doom anything he wanted, surrendered every power I possessed, and begged until my throat bled if there were even the slightest chance he would listen.
But Doom had already made his decision.
"Doom does not accept substitutes," he declared with absolute authority. "Doom does not retract his judgment, Doom words are absolute, and my words are this: 'Let. There. Be. Doom'"
The energy pouring from Peter began to fade.
His screaming weakened into a strained, broken sound, then a faint whimper that I could barely hear over the ringing in my ears.
And then it stopped.
For one terrible moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
"Bear witness to the fate of all those who take the words of Doom lightly," Doom announced.
He released Peter.
His body fell from the air and struck the ground with a lifeless thud.
I stopped breathing.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't even comprehend what I had just witnessed.
All the strength left my body at once, and I collapsed to my knees. My eyes remained fixed on Peter's motionless form, desperately searching for some sign that he was still alive, that he would somehow get back up and tell us all that everything was fine.
He had to get back up.
He always got back up.
"Hahaha..."
A weak, hoarse laugh escaped my throat. It sounded wet and broken, barely more than a strangled noise, but I couldn't stop myself.
"No... no, you're joking, right?"
I started walking toward him on my knees, dragging myself across the debris with what little strength I had left.
"Come on, Pete." I laughed again, trying desperately to convince myself that this was just another one of his stupid pranks. "I get it. This is another one of your jokes, isn't it? You're really going all out this time, man. Hahaha... you almost got me."
I reached him and dropped onto my knees beside his body.
"All right, the joke's over." My voice trembled as I leaned over him. "You can stop pretending now."
"Come on, Peter. Get up."
I tried to shake him awake with my ruined arms, barely managing to nudge his shoulder with what remained of them.
"Pete?"
Nothing.
"Hey man, come on. Seriously, this isn't funny anymore."
I waited.
I waited for him to groan, for him to twitch, for him to open those eyes and give me that familiar, infuriating grin. I waited for him to make some stupid joke about how he had gotten me, or how ugly I looked crying next to him.
Anything.
Just... anything.
But he didn't move.
I leaned closer, desperately searching for the faint rise and fall of his chest.
There was nothing.
I pressed what remained of my arm against him, trying to feel some indication that his heart was still beating.
Nothing.
Peter wasn't breathing.
His heart wasn't beating.
And no matter how desperately I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn't find a single sign that my best friend was still alive.
Doom's voice drifted toward me, cold and merciless, but I could barely register the words.
"Accept your reality. Mourn your loss. Grieve, if you must. Despair, if you cannot help yourself. Do whatever you must to make peace with what has happened. But should you choose defiance over acceptance, know this: your loss will be the least of your sorrows. For if you refuse to accept reality, then I shall become your reality. And your reality shall be Doom."
His voice became muffled, distant, as though he were speaking from the other side of an ocean. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I couldn't even bring myself to hate him, not when all I could see was Peter's face and all I could think about was how he wasn't moving.
I just kept waiting.
Waiting for him to wake up.
Waiting for him to breathe.
Waiting for my best friend to come back to me.
"DADDY!! AHHHHHHH!"
The anguished scream tore through the chamber, so full of grief that I felt it somewhere deep in my chest. I didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Aria.
The static void had finally been withdrawn, releasing everyone from its grip. Doom and Rama-Tut were already standing atop the Time Platform, preparing to escape into the past.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
Aria's scream was accompanied by a brilliant beam of energy erupting from the purple Mind Stone. She was sobbing so hard that her voice broke between words, yet the attack carried all the fury and desperation of a daughter watching her father die.
The others followed suit.
A barrage of powers and abilities struck Doom's position simultaneously, the combined force detonating in a tremendous explosion that engulfed the Time Platform in smoke and debris. For one fleeting moment, I wanted to believe they had done it. That they had finally managed to hurt him, that perhaps the universe had decided to give us one small mercy.
But when the smoke cleared, Doom remained standing behind his shield, completely untouched.
"Let's go," he commanded Rama-Tut.
"THIS ISN'T OVER, VICTOR!" Reed Richards shouted after him, tears streaming down his face. "DO YOU HEAR ME?! THIS ISN'T OVER!"
But Doom didn't answer. The Time Platform activated, and the two tyrants disappeared into the past, leaving behind the devastation they had wrought.
Leaving Peter behind.
I barely noticed Gwen approaching. Her footsteps were slow and reluctant, each one seeming to take more effort than the last. She eventually collapsed to her knees behind Peter, her trembling hand reaching toward his mask.
She began pulling it away, but she only managed to uncover his lips before she stopped.
Whatever she saw was enough.
His features were sunken and lifeless, his face drained of all its familiar warmth. The sight seemed to break something inside her. She abruptly withdrew her hand and burst into tears, fumbling with her own mask before tearing it off.
"I can't do it," she sobbed. Her voice kept catching in her throat, the words stumbling over one another as she struggled to breathe. "I can't... I can't do it. Someone else, please. Someone else take off his mask. I want to see my Peter!"
She turned toward MJ and clung to her as though she were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
"MJ!" Gwen cried, shaking uncontrollably. "He's not breathing! His heart isn't beating!"
Susan stepped forward, her expression stricken. She knelt beside Peter and gently removed the rest of his mask, revealing the full extent of the damage Doom had inflicted upon him.
His face was pale and hollow, his eyes half-lidded and empty. He looked nothing like the Peter I knew. There was no spark of mischief in his expression, no warmth in his features, no hint that he was about to open his mouth and say something ridiculous.
He simply lay there, still and silent.
"Daddy..."
Aria's voice cracked.
She flew toward him, pushing past everyone in her desperate rush to reach her father. She dropped beside his body and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him with frantic, trembling hands.
"Please wake up, Daddy! Please! Don't leave me!"
Her sobs grew louder as she tried again, as though she could somehow force him back to life through sheer desperation.
"Why won't you wake up?!"
She pressed her hands against him, searching for something she couldn't find.
"Why can't I feel you?!"
The question shattered me.
I couldn't look away from her. I couldn't look away from Peter, either. There was no escaping the truth of what I had done, or rather, what I hadn't been able to do.
I hadn't just failed Peter.
I had failed his daughter, too.
I had stood there and watched the man she loved most in the world die, and there was nothing I could do to give him back to her.
Susan covered her mouth, a choked sob escaping her as she collapsed into Reed's arms. He held her tightly, his own tears falling freely as he stared at Peter's lifeless body, unable to reconcile what he was seeing with the man who had stood beside him for so long.
Felicia stood frozen a short distance away, her entire body rigid with shock. Ben stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace, and only then did she seem to register what had happened. Her shoulders began to shake, and she buried her face against him as the grief finally overwhelmed her.
Then Johnny screamed.
"AHHHHHHH!"
His body blazed brighter and brighter, the temperature in the chamber climbing so rapidly that the remaining moisture in the air began to evaporate. His tears turned to steam as he unleashed a furious burst of flame, blasting a hole through the already crumbling castle wall and disappeared through it.
The explosion sent rubble scattering into the distance, but Johnny didn't seem to notice. He kept burning, his grief and rage feeding the flames until the entire chamber glowed with the intensity of his anguish.
Nearby, Hulk's breathing grew heavier.
His enormous hands tightened around the giant wolf he had been fighting, and with a single flex, he snapped its neck. The creature's body went limp, but Hulk barely seemed to notice. His attention had shifted to the motionless figure lying on the ground.
"Peter..."
Hulk approached with heavy, uneven footfalls, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
"Why is Hulk's friend not getting up?"
He crouched beside Peter, bringing one enormous finger toward his head and gently nudging him, as though he expected his friend to complain about being poked.
Peter didn't respond.
Hulk nudged him again.
"Peter?"
Nothing.
Beside him, Thor stared down at the hammer Peter had made for him. His fingers loosened around its handle, and it slipped from his grasp, striking the ground with a dull clatter. For a moment, Thor simply stood there, staring at the weapon as though it had become something he no longer understood.
Then he reached out and rested an empty hand against Hulk's arm.
It was a small gesture, a silent attempt at comfort from one grieving friend to another.
Hulk's jaw tightened.
His eyes began to glow a deeper green, and his body started to grow larger, the muscles beneath his skin swelling as his anger intensified. He tilted his head back and released a monstrous roar that shook the ruins of the castle, a sound filled with so much grief and fury that I felt it reverberate through my bones.
But even that couldn't bring Peter back.
I barely registered Lizzy approaching until she crouched beside me and gently pulled my head against her chest. I hadn't even realized how badly I was shaking until she wrapped her arms around me, holding me close as though she were afraid I might fall apart completely if she let go.
I didn't resist.
I couldn't.
My gaze remained fixed on Peter, even as tears began to blur my vision. I had spent so much time thinking about what I would do if something happened to him, what I would say if he ever needed me to step up and be the kind of friend he had always been to me.
I had imagined countless possibilities.
I had never imagined this.
What was I supposed to tell Uncle Ben and Aunt May?
How was I supposed to look them in the eyes and explain that their nephew, the boy they had raised and loved as their own son, was dead? That I had been right there, that I had tried to help, and that none of it had been enough?
Aunt May was pregnant.
She was going to have another child, a little brother or sister for Peter, and she didn't even know what had happened yet.
How could I tell her?
How could I possibly walk up to her and tell her that her son wasn't coming home?
My throat tightened until it hurt to breathe. I tried to speak, tried to find some way to put the words together, but everything I wanted to say felt meaningless in the face of what had happened.
I finally lifted my head and looked at Lizzy.
"I don't know what I'm going to do."
The words came out so quietly that I barely recognized my own voice.
Lizzy didn't try to answer. She simply pulled me closer, holding me against her as her own tears fell into my hair. She was crying, too, and I could feel her trembling as she struggled to hold herself together for my sake.
And that was when I finally broke.
All the anger, all the desperation, all the frantic denial that had kept me moving since the moment Doom struck Peter down came crashing over me at once. I couldn't fight it anymore. I couldn't pretend that this was some terrible joke, some nightmare I would eventually wake up from, or another impossible situation that Peter would somehow find a way to overcome.
There was no punchline.
No last-minute miracle.
No familiar voice telling me everything was going to be okay.
I had lost him.
My best friend. My partner. The person who had stood beside me through everything, who had made me want to be a better hero and a better person. The man I could confidently call my brother in everything but blood.
And I hadn't been able to save him.
I buried my face against Lizzy and sobbed, finally allowing myself to feel the full weight of the truth I had been desperately trying to deny.
Peter Parker was dead.
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