Spiderman: I had enough

After finishing preliminary testing of his new powers, Peter then went after acquiring alien technologies.

He swung between buildings with his web while stealing some technology he found along the way.

A pew pew gun that shoted energy, an also pepew gun but that was also a spear, very original if I had something to say.

Peter also wanted to pick the Leviathan's body he had trapped, but he didn't had the means to do that, also he had to be stealthy as he didn't want nobody to take his peace away.

While he was swinging through the city collecting spoils he unknownly got closer to the avengers tower, as he got closer his spider sense that didn't turn on till now started to act like crazy.

He rapidly got alerted, since his training he could sense his surroundings almost all the time, so the majority of threat's couldn't get closer to him without him noticing it.

Be it an enemy or a projectile, neither of them could activate his spider sense.

But now... It was going out of control.

The strange thing was that he couldn't get a grasp from where the dangerous thing that was making his spider senses go crazy was coming from.

As he didn't know where it was coming from, he decided to stop by the side of a building, after gluing himself to it he also placed the spoils he had gathered in a bag made of his own webs that was in his back also at the side of the building.

After all, he had wasted some time collecting them and didn't want them to be destroyed because of some battle he might be involved in in the next second.

Even after doing all those actions only a few seconds had just passed.

Clinging to the building, he braced himself.

His body was silent, his breath calm—but inside, every nerve was on fire.

The pressure. The wrongness. Something was coming. Something big.

And then… he saw it.

Far off in the sky.

A glint of silver.

A long, sleek shape—like a metal spear cutting through the clouds.

His eyes widened.

His body went cold.

That thing.

That thing was what had set off every survival instinct in his body.

The moment he saw that thing, the moment he saw it his eyes bulged and his body went cold.

It was a missile...

In that moment, memories he had forgotten had surged to the front of his mind.

S.H.I.E.L.D. command. Fearful government officials. World leaders watching New York get torn apart.

The invasion. The panic. The desperation.

They thought they couldn't stop it.

So they tried to erase it.

By erasing everything.

Peter stared at the incoming death with clenched fists.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

"They sent a missile to New York... A FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILE!"

Peter stayed glued to the side of the building, muscles tensed, eyes locked on the object that had sent his Spider-Sense into overdrive.

A missile.

Not just any missile.

A nuclear one.

His blood ran cold.

He remembered it too late original protocol. The last desperate measure.

The one that would sacrifice an entire city for the "greater good."

They actually launched it.

His body moved before thought could catch up. He leapt from the wall, swinging through the air with explosive force, chasing the death streak in the sky.

But it was too far. Too fast.

He tried to build momentum, web-slinging through shattered buildings and smoke.

His heart pounded. His mind raced.

"There has to be a way—I can web it? Redirect it?"

"No, no the radiation—even if they had lauched an hydrogen one—The explosive payload!"

"Even if I caught it with my webs—"

A fearfull though crossed his head—

It'll still go off.

He was racing pursuing, trying to do something even if it didn't matter he still wanted to try something, it was already to late to take cover—if it was even possible to do that at all.

And then—

A blur of red and gold streaked into the sky.

Tony Stark.

Peter watched, with his heart racing from the adrenaline pump, as Iron Man grabbed the missile and pushed it upward, guiding it toward the portal.

Higher and higher.

Until both disappeared into the light.

And then…

Silence.

The kind of silence that crushes your lungs and squeezes your heart.

He hung there in the air, suspended on his web next to a building, watching.

And waiting.

The explosion didn't come.

Not in New York, anyway.

When Iron Man fell from the sky moments later—just in time to be caught—Peter didn't move, he didn't even tried to save him.

He didn't cheer. He didn't thank the heavens.

He clenched his fists.

Thoughts raced through his mind.

"I couldn't stop it."

"I couldn't catch it."

"I COULDN'T DO FUCKING NOTHING ONCE MORE!"

ARGH!

In anger he punched a hole in the building he was staying next to.

Even now—after everything I've done, after adquring strengh, new powers!

...

His life was still at the mercy of others, not only that... If there still was someone's left, someone that he loved—they too would fall victims to that FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILE!

He punched the building again, now making an even bigger hole on it's side.

The sky had quieted.

The Leviathans that were all flying through the city destroying everything on it's path and even the ones that were flying at the sky all had fallen to the earth.

The chitauri soldiers that were causing massive destruction on the roads and buildings were now laying down like some doll that had it's strings cut.

The portal above their heads had closed.

New York lay in ruins, but it was still standing. The war was over.

People began to cheer, some weeping, others hugging amidst the rubble. A bittersweet victory filled the air like smoke—bitter for the losses, sweet for the survival.

Some of the avengers gathered near the epicenter of the destruction around a fallen iron man that was rescued by Hulk, trying to reanimate him, the hero ho had saved them all.

And Peter who was just a few buildings from them was lost in his thoughts while clenching his firsts.

He didn't celebrate.

He didn't feel relief.

He felt fury.

Pure, burning, soul-scouring fury.

They sent a nuke.

They were ready to sacrifice everything. Everyone.

Even him.

He who had saved countless lives—who had risked his own body again and again trying to save everything and everyone.

He who lost everyone he loved.

And for what?

To watch helplessly, again, as someone else made the final move?

To be just another background pawn in a game played by gods and monsters?

No.

Never again.

Peter's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes turned to the Stark's building, they fixed themselves on the glowing cube that hovered gently in the air, levitating just above a pedestal of broken tech—the Tesseract.

Energy rippled from it. The same energy that had opened the portal. The same energy that could rewrite reality itself.

And not far from it he noticed...

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, stood still, his eyes fell on her hand.

And on it, the scepter where the Mind Stone glow fading in her grasp.

Peter then looked at her face, she was lost—lost in the moment. Lost in survival grief, relief.

All tangled together, her muscles wich she used to it's maximum capacity now relaxed, her eyes distant.

Seying that a though raced through Peter's mind.

His body reacted even more faster, guided by his thirsty for power and his anger originated from being to weak.

He launched himself to the Stark's building, throwing his webs, swinging as fast as he could.

He had to take advantage of the situation, before everyone realized it, before everyone recovered.

Peter dropped from the sky in total silence, his suit now blending with the shadows. Organic webs shot forward with precise calculation—

Thwip! Thwip!

Before she could react, her arms were bound to her sides, her mouth gagged, her body wrapped in a cocoon of silky, super-strong strands. She was pinned gently to a crumbling wall. Immobilized—but unharmed.

Her eyes widened with shock. Recognition. Rage.

Peter didn't say a word.

He took the scepter from her stunned hand. Then, with a smooth, fluid motion, snatched the Tesseract from its perch.

Both artifacts pulsed with unimaginable power in his hands.

He looked down at Natasha, now struggling against the webs. Her glare focused on his body, one that could have burned through even the thickest steel.

Still, he said nothing.

He turned himself, his silhouette then disappeared into the chaos that was the city, like smoke he vanished on the wind.

His heart pounded. His veins burned with determination.

Let them rebuild their city.

Let them have their victory.

He had claimed something far greater.

A path to true power.

To control.

To never be weak again.

And he would never look back.