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[b]Two Weeks Ago
New York City[/b]

One by one the mourners place a rose on the casket, and as each one takes their turn, I realize it's almost my turn. I'm not really sure how any circumstance this would be easy. But knowing that casket is occupied partially because of me doesn't make things any easier. Harry's father watches over the entire proceeding with the normal steely gaze I've come accustomed to, but today it sends an even deeper chill down my spine. Harry's last words warning his father had turned him into the Hobgoblin in order to get to Spider-man was scary. Norman has infinite resources at his disposal, and if he was willing to sacrifice his own son, he was willing to do anything.

Gwen squeezes my arm, and I look down at her. Her makeup is smudged as tears stream down her face. Harry was as much her friend as he was mine, and losing him had hit her hard. Of course, having her almost die on the same night didn't help anything. I still consider myself lucky that catching her with my web as she was hurled off the bridge didn't snap her neck. It feels like someone up there is watching out for me. She now knows my secret, and yet she still stays with me. I don't know how I'm so fortunate, but here we are.

The two of us approach the casket, placing the flowers on top. I run my hand over the smooth exterior, realizing that once this was in the ground, Harry was really gone. Gwen sobs beside me, and I choke back a few tears of my own. 

As we move away from the casket, Norman steps in our path, taking my hand and shaking it, "Peter...Gwen...I just wanted to thank you for being such good friends to Harry. I know his...condition near the end must have made it difficult. But you stood by him. As always, I always knew you too were some of the good ones."

It takes all my strength not to punch Norman in the face. For all my life Norman Osborn was a shadow hanging over my life. He was there when my parents died. He was there when I was trying to live my life with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He was there at Uncle Ben's funeral. And now he was here at my best friend's funeral as the very reason Harry was being put to rest. Norman Osborn was a very real boogeyman in my life. But there was nothing I could do about it now.

"You're welcome, Mr. Osborn," I say stiffly. "I just wish we could have helped him more."

"Well, there are things out of our hands, Peter," he smiles weakly.

Without another word, Gwen and I walk away, my hands in my pockets and Gwen's arm hooked around mine.

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[b]Now[/b]

The wind rushes through my mask as I swing through the skies of New York. After all this time, web swinging never fails to cheer me up. It may sound corny, but there’s just something magical about swinging over the streets and rooftops of New York. Even at a time like this where my best friend is dead after trying to turn the city into his own den of crime and his father has declared open war against me. Such is the life of your friendly, neighborhood Spider-man.

I sling another web and use my momentum to turn a hard right, swooping down a few stories as I do so. I know this city like the back of my hand at this point. The fastest and best ways to get around the city are second nature to me. I know every nook and cranny, like this is my concrete English muffin. The city is my playground, and everyone else is just living in it.

At that moment, sirens draw my attention. I follow them to their source, where a man in what appears to be a quilt is standing outside of a bank, “Stand back! All of you!”

With that, he throws a punch through the air. At first I just figure he’s crazy, but then a shockwave bursts forward, slamming the cops and their cars backwards, end over end.

“Oh, well, that’s fun,” I say under my breath before swinging over to the wall above the apparent bank robber. Once there, I call out, “Nice costume, guy! Your mom make it for you?”

“Well, well, well,” the masked man chuckles, “Spider-man.”

He spins around, slamming the wall with another round of concussive blasts. I kick off the wall, landing in front of the cops who were regaining their feet, “Let me guess…you’re Rumble? Oh! No! You’re Shockwave!”

“Guess again, web-head!” he snarls. “I’m the Shocker!”

“Ha!” I laugh. “Dude come on! You can’t be serious! You do know about the…well you know. Unless you don’t.”

He doesn't answer, and instead blasts at me again with his gauntlets. The shockwaves from his gauntlets are powerful, more powerful than anything I've seen before from one of my weird enemies. Scorpion's tail was fairly potent, but these things caused widespread damage. Concrete shattered under its power, and it make quick work of the cop's vehicles earlier. This guy was either a genius, or someone was supplying him with some high tech stuff.

"Stand still, you little crap!" he screamed swinging the stream of waves across the street, blowing the windows out of the buildings surrounding the bank while I easily swing around the danger. This guy is slopping. He probably hoped he'd be able to get in and get out. He clearly isn't ready to go up against someone like me. 

"That would kind of defeat the purpose of, you know, fighting you, Quilt Face," I mock. Knowing I need to finish this one off quickly, I swing off a street lamp, gaining momentum, before slamming into Shocker's legs. Acting quickly, I web up his hands so their facing his chest, ensuring he would use them to escape. "Now there. Isn't that better?"

"This isn't the last you'll see of me, webhead!" he snarls as I take off his mask, revealing a normal looking guy underneath. "I'll be back."

"Sure, pal," I laugh, tossing the mask back to the cops. "That's what the all say. Tell Marko and Sytsevich I said hi!"

Man, I love being Spider-man.