The city lights blurred past as Spider-Man tore across the skyline, swinging like a bolt of fury and desperation.
Nathan's heart hammered in his chest, each thwip of his webs like a drumbeat counting down to disaster. The Goblin's monstrous form was just ahead, leaping rooftop to rooftop with Harry's unconscious body slung over his shoulder like a trophy.
"GET BACK HERE!" Nathan screamed, voice raw.
The Goblin didn't look back. He landed on the Oscorp tower with its black glass body reflecting the hellish glow of the city below. He ascended its upper scaffolding like a demon returning home.
Nathan landed hard on the rooftop just behind, concrete cracking beneath his feet. "Harry!"
He scaled the side of the tower, chasing them to the top with the wind howling, sirens echoing in the distance, the stars above swallowed by clouds. Thunder rumbled.
At the peak, on a narrow platform jutting into the sky, the Goblin stood.
Harry dangled in one clawed hand, limp, battered.
Nathan stepped forward, hands raised, every inch of him trembling.
"Let him go."
The Goblin's lips curled in a crooked grin. "I am."
He pulled Harry closer, the monster's voice almost gentle, twisted with mock affection.
"You took my legacy. My company. My son. So now I take everything."
His clawed hand reared back.
Nathan's eyes went wide. "No… NO!"
And then the claws stabbed through Harry's back.
"NOOOO!" Nathan screamed, his voice tearing through the sky.
Blood sprayed into the wind. Harry's eyes jolted open, a soft gasp escaping his lips. And then the Goblin released him by threw him off the tower like discarded garbage.
Nathan didn't think. Didn't hesitate.
He dove.
The world slowed.
Harry's body fell through the sky like a comet.
Nathan tucked his arms in, slicing through the wind, pushing everything he had into one final dive.
He caught him.
Barely.
His webs fired just in time, snagging a ledge, swinging them out of the death plunge.
Nathan twisted midair and flipped them toward a nearby rooftop, landing hard on his back, cushioning Harry.
The impact knocked the breath out of him.
But he didn't care.
He looked down.
Harry was bleeding out, the wound gaping in his back, his breath shallow.
"Harry! Harry….no, no, stay with me!" Nathan ripped off his mask, hands shaking, face streaked with dirt and blood and tears.
Harry blinked up at him slowly. "Nate…?"
"I got you, okay? You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna call an ambulance, I'm gonna—" Nathan's voice cracked.
Harry coughed, wincing. "It's bad… huh?"
"No, no, don't say that, you're gonna be fine, you're just—"
"Hey." Harry reached up, weakly brushing Nathan's arm. "You're a terrible liar."
Nathan choked on a laugh, even as tears fell freely. "I learned it from you, rich boy."
Harry smiled faintly.
"Dude… you're Spider-Man still can't believe it."
Nathan nodded, biting his lip.
Harry said, voice fading. "You… you were always my brother. Powers or not."
Nathan swallowed a sob. "Don't do this, man. Don't leave me."
Harry's gaze drifted upward, to the stars peeking through the clouds.
"Y'know… Gwen always said I'd die doing something stupid."
Nathan laughed weakly. "Yeah, well… this counts."
"I'm glad…" Harry said softly, his eyes fluttering, "…glad I got to see you one last time."
Nathan clutched his friend's hand tight.
Harry's final words were barely a breath:
"Thanks… for being my brother…"
Harry's body went still in Nathan's arms.
His final breath ghosted against Nathan's cheek, followed by a silence so profound it felt like the world had stopped turning.
And then… the laugh.
That same warped, hell-born cackle twisted with madness, rage, and pride echoed across the rooftop like a curse.
Nathan stood, slowly laying Harry's body down. His hands were shaking. Not with fear. But fury. His breath came in short, boiling gasps. Every nerve burned. His muscles twitched with violence held back only by the thinnest thread.
The Goblin stood near the ledge of Oscorp Tower, backlit by a burning billboard. Tall. Hulking. Gleaming. A grotesque fusion of man and monster green, spiked, with molten cracks across his body, and glowing orange flames radiating from his eyes and claws.
"I told you, Nathan," the Goblin said, voice low and vicious. "I would take everything."
Nathan's suit shimmered in the firelight red and navy, sleek and clean, still untouched. But under the mask, his face was soaked in tears, jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt.
"You're Norman," Nathan growled.
The monster spread his arms like a showman.
"In the rotting flesh."
"You killed your son."
"I made a sacrifice. The weak must fall for the strong to rise. He chose you, Nathan. His greatest failure."
Nathan's fists curled. His knuckles popped in his gloves.
"You're not just a monster," Nathan said, his voice shaking. "You're a coward. You hide behind experiments, chemicals, power but deep down? You're just a scared, bitter old man who couldn't stand the world moving on without him."
The Goblin snarled, stepping forward. Flames burst from his fists.
"You're out of your depth, boy."
"I'm Spider-Man."
And with that, Nathan launched at him.
Their collision cracked the rooftop floor. Nathan struck first an aerial punch to the Goblin's jaw that snapped his head sideways. He webbed his shoulder, swung behind him, and slammed both boots into the monster's back.
The Goblin staggered but turned instantly, claws slicing.
Nathan ducked, rolled, and uppercut him hard in the chin, sending green spittle flying. He followed with a web-line yank and drove a knee into the monster's gut.
"HOW'S THIS FOR DEPTH?!" Nathan roared.
But the Goblin grabbed his leg mid-air and hurled him like a ragdoll. Nathan crashed into a ventilation unit, metal exploding around him.
Before he could rise, Goblin was on him.
He slammed a flaming fist down but Nathan rolled aside, the punch cracking the rooftop like a meteor strike. Another blow came, Nathan blocking it with crossed arms. The heat burned through his suit. Goblin grabbed his mask and flung him across the roof.
Nathan landed in a crouch, panting.
"You can't win!" the Goblin bellowed.
"I don't need to win," Nathan snarled, webbing debris and slinging it. "I just need you to lose."
He sprinted forward, feinting right, then ducked and flipped, landing on the Goblin's back. He wrapped web-lines around his throat and pulled hard.
The Goblin screamed in fury, flames igniting along his shoulders. Nathan was forced to leap off as a fiery pulse exploded from his body, searing the webbing.
The Goblin's chest began to glow.
"Oh, crap," Nathan whispered.
A beam of molten heat vision tore through the rooftop, narrowly missing Nathan as he dove. The blast cut a jagged hole through the tower.
The Goblin turned to a crowd gathering on the street below civilians pointing, filming, unaware of the danger.
"I wonder," he sneered, chest pulsing. "How many of them will you fail too?"
He raised his hands, eyes burning bright.
"NO!"
Nathan web-zipped straight into him, slamming his shoulder into the Goblin's side just as the heat beam erupted. It arced into the sky instead of the street. They tumbled over the edge.
They were falling.
Mid-air punches.
Claws slashing.
Webs snapping.
The two crashed into the side of a building, shattered glass raining. Then they hit the pavement creating a crater in the middle of the street. Cars flipped. People screamed and scattered.
Nathan rolled, battered but upright.
His suit was torn one arm exposed, shoulder bleeding. His mask hung by a thread.
The Goblin rose, hunched, steam pouring off him, eyes wild.
"You protect them… like they matter," he spat. "Like Harry mattered."
"Say his name again," Nathan whispered, voice dark.
"Harry," the Goblin grinned, fangs gleaming. "Was weak. A disappointment. He died begging."
Nathan saw red.
He tackled the Goblin into a bus, the side folding like paper. He pummeled him fist after fist after fist blood and spittle flying.
"HE WAS MY BROTHER!"
The Goblin roared and exploded in fire, sending Nathan flying.
The suit burned off in chunks.
He landed hard, groaning, ribs cracked. His chestplate was gone. Gauntlets melted. Mask, badly damaged.
He stood bleeding, panting his body scorched and torn, but his eyes burning with one thing: vengeance.
The Goblin stalked forward, slower now. Hurt. Lurching.
They stared.
One final moment of silence.
Then they charged.
No webs. No tech. Just fists and fury.
Every blow was a memory. Every strike, a scream. Every dodge, a heartbeat lost.
The Goblin slammed Nathan into a car Nathan grabbed a hubcap and smashed it across his face. Goblin clawed Nathan's side Nathan kneed his gut, broke two ribs with a punch, then an elbow to the throat.
Blood flew. Bones cracked.
The Goblin lifted him high and slammed him into a light pole it bent and snapped.
"You think this ends with me?!" he roared.
Nathan coughed blood.
"It ends with you."
He broke free and drove both fists into the Goblin's eyes.
The monster stumbled.
Behind them, a group of terrified civilians huddled.
The Goblin turned, charging his heat again, mouth curling into a grin.
Nathan moved on instinct.
He web-yanked a manhole cover, leapt into the air, and hurled it at the Goblin's head. It slammed into his skull stunning him.
Nathan landed, grabbed the Goblin by the throat, and with every ounce of strength left and snapped his neck.
The sound echoed like thunder.
The Goblin's body slumped. Eyes wide. Flames extinguished.
Norman Osborn was dead.
Nathan stood over him, shaking. Covered in blood his and Norman's. Breathing ragged.
The civilians stared in silence.
He collapsed to his knees beside the body, trembling.
Harry was gone.
But so was the monster who took him.
A Quinjet hovered overhead as armored S.H.I.E.L.D. agents secured the perimeter, their boots thudding against the cracked pavement. Lights danced against the wreckage of the street where Nathan had ended the monster.
Down below, agents surrounded the twisted, massive corpse of Norman Osborn. His green, flame-charred body was bound in thick restraints more ceremonial than necessary. He wasn't getting up again.
The battle was over.
But for Nathan, it didn't feel like a victory.
He knelt on the edge of a rooftop nearby, overlooking it all, staring through the fog. His face was bruised and bloodied, body bare from the waist up, what remained of his suit clinging in tatters to his arms and legs. Blood dried along his ribs. His hands trembled. His knuckles were raw from punching.
He didn't move. Didn't blink.
He just watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. zipped up the black body bag around Norman Osborn.
"You did everything you could."
The voice came softly, without judgment. Familiar. Steady.
Nathan didn't turn.
He didn't have to.
Natasha stepped out of the shadows behind him, her hair tied back, face calm but tired. She wore a black field suit, a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge clipped to her hip, and carried none of the cold professionalism the world had come to expect from the Black Widow.
Right now, she wasn't an assassin.
She was a friend.
Nathan blinked slowly. His throat tightened. He wanted to say something. Anything.
But nothing came out.
Natasha moved toward him slowly, kneeling beside him.
"I saw the footage," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I saw everything."
Nathan's lips parted, just a sliver. "He killed Harry… like he didn't mean anything. He… laughed about it."
Natasha's hand squeezed gently.
"He was proud of it."
"I snapped his neck," Nathan said. His voice cracked, weak. "I didn't even hesitate."
There was a pause.
Then, with infinite gentleness, Natasha whispered, "Good."
Nathan looked at her, shocked.
"He took your brother. Threatened innocent people. There was nothing left of Norman Osborn in that thing. You didn't kill a man tonight, Nathan. You stopped a monster."
His face crumpled.
He tried to breathe, but the weight crushed him. Grief swelled like a wave, drowning the rage, the adrenaline, the numbness. His fists clenched. His body trembled.
And then, finally he broke.
Nathan buried his face in Natasha's shoulder as the dam burst.
Sobs wracked his body ugly, raw, choking sounds that he couldn't stop if he tried. All the pain, the loss, the guilt it came pouring out of him like blood from a wound.
Natasha held him tighter. Her arms wrapped around him completely, like a shield against the world. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. She let him break. Let him grieve.
Because that was what he needed most.
From the rooftop, Nathan could still see the body bag being hauled into the Quinjet. Agents whispered. A firetruck drove past. Reporters were already circling like vultures.
But up here… just for a moment… there was peace.
And in Natasha's arms, he was no longer Spider-Man.
He was just Nathan.
Just a kid who had lost too much.
And who had finally, finally allowed himself to feel it.
The Next Day
The sterile scent of disinfectant hit Nathan the moment the elevator doors opened.
He stepped into the long, pale hallway, where the lights above buzzed faintly and nurses whispered to each other behind clipboards. The world was still moving but it felt like he wasn't part of it.
Nathan walked like a ghost. Every step felt heavier than the last.
He'd washed the blood off his hands, showered until his skin was red and raw but he still felt stained. Hollowed out.
Room 418.
He stopped outside the door. A lump caught in his throat. He hadn't prepared for this. Wasn't sure he could.
But Peter was waiting.
He knocked once and pushed open the door.
Peter sat up in the hospital bed, his shoulder and ribs bandaged, a thin oxygen tube at his nose. He looked like hell with bruises blooming across his face and arms, one eye swollen, an IV hooked to his hand. But he managed a half-smile when he saw Nathan.
"You look worse than me," he rasped.
Nathan tried to smirk. Failed.
"Glad your lungs still work," he said quietly, closing the door behind him.
Peter chuckled and winced. "Barely."
Nathan pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Peter studied his best friend's face. Nathan's eyes were red and glassy, his expression tight with something he was trying hard to keep buried.
Peter swallowed. "How bad was it?"
Nathan didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, fingers twitching in his lap. He stared at the wall, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally said it.
"Harry's gone."
Peter blinked.
"What?"
Nathan's eyes shimmered.
"He didn't make it. I… I caught him after Norman stabbed him. Got him to a rooftop. Held him. He… he thanked me for being his brother."
Peter's breath caught.
His chest tightened like something had reached in and crushed his lungs. "No…"
Nathan nodded slowly, voice breaking. "He died in my arms, Pete. I couldn't save him."
Peter turned his head away but it was too late. His shoulders started shaking.
Tears spilled freely.
And when he looked back at Nathan, both of them were crying.
"Why?" Peter asked, voice cracking. "Why did this happen? We were supposed to graduate together. Go to college. Get out of Queens…Travel the world."
Nathan wiped at his face, uselessly. "Because Norman Osborn stopped being human a long time ago. And because I wasn't fast enough."
"Don't," Peter snapped suddenly. "Don't do that. You saved lives last night. You stopped him. You did everything you could."
"I still lost him," Nathan whispered.
Peter gripped his arm, tighter than Nathan expected.
"We both did."
The silence between them was deafening.
Then, finally, Peter broke it. "He called us his brothers. That night in the park…"
Nathan nodded. "I remember."
"We were his family, Nate. He didn't have anyone else."
They sat in that hospital room for a long time. Two teenagers barely holding themselves together. Two kids who had lost someone they loved like blood.
There were no more jokes. No sarcasm. Just grief.
Nathan leaned forward, resting his forehead against Peter's.
"We'll keep going," he said, his voice low, steady. "For him."
Peter nodded, trembling. "For Harry."
TV STUDIO – LIVE BROADCAST
"We return now to the developing story out of Queens, where last night's Midtown High prom turned into a night of horror."
"What began as a celebration for students and families ended with multiple injuries, the death of one student, and the paralysis of another."
"Sources now confirm the creature responsible for the destruction was none other than Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp. Footage from the scene shows Osborn in a grotesque mutated form resembling a monstrous goblin that was wielding fire and enhanced strength."
"Among the victims was Flash Thompson, who was thrown through a wall and has been declared paralyzed from the waist down. Gwen Stacy, daughter of NYPD Captain George Stacy, was killed during the attack. And Harry Osborn the son of Norman Osborn was fatally wounded and died on-site. Eyewitnesses say Spider-Man fought to protect as many students as possible."
"The city mourns. And questions are being raised about Oscorp, about security, and about how close we all are… to chaos."
THE BAXTER BUILDING – FANTASTIC FOUR HQ
Johnny sat on the edge of the long conference table, arms crossed, brow furrowed as the news played on a holographic feed in front of them.
"No kid should have to go through that," he muttered.
Sue Storm nodded slowly, hand at her mouth. "He's just a teenager. And he fought both that thing and saved dozens of lives."
Reed adjusted his glasses, watching footage of the monster. "What Osborn became… I've seen mutations. This was something else. Rage. Uncontrolled power."
Ben let out a soft grunt. "Spider-Kid's tough. But this? This'll leave a scar deeper than any punch."
Johnny glanced over at him. "We should reach out. Let him know he's not alone."
Ben nodded. "He's family now. Whether he likes it or not."
BROOKLYN
Steve stood shirtless in sweatpants, the light from the TV flickering across his battle-worn face. A cup of coffee went untouched in his hands.
He watched the screen show a photo of Gwen Stacy, then footage of Harry Osborn being carried by Spider-Man.
His jaw clenched.
He could hear her screams in the footage. The panic. The loss. The boy in the red and blue trying to hold everything together.
Trying.
Failing.
His reflection in the TV looked older than he felt.
"I should've been there," he muttered to himself.
SAFEHOUSE – SHIELD BASE
Clint slid a file across the table.
"Osborn's body was taken into SHIELD custody at 0400. What's left of it, anyway."
Natasha sat on the edge of the table, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
Clint narrowed his eyes. "What's on your mind, Nat?"
She didn't answer right away. Just stared into space like she was still on that rooftop.
Then, finally: "I found him. Nathan. Covered in blood. Shaking."
Clint leaned back slightly. "Damn."
"I hugged him," she continued, voice quieter now. "And he just broke. He's always been cocky, mouthy, trying to play it cool. But last night…"
Her voice trailed off.
Clint tilted his head. "You care about the kid."
She looked at him, eyes harder. "He's a child, Clint. He lost two of his best friends. He killed someone last night. And he blames himself."
Clint nodded. "You gonna keep an eye on him?"
Natasha hesitated… then gave a faint nod. "I think I have to."
MJ sits alone in her bedroom, staring at her phone. Gwen's last text glows on the screen. Her mascara is smudged. She hasn't cried. Not yet. But her hands are shaking.
Ava sits on her roof in Queens, fists clenched on her knees, silent. Her eyes burn. She wasn't close to Gwen, but she saw Nathan's face when he lost her. She felt it. And it hurt.
J. Jonah Jameson glares at the report, eyes flicking between frames of Spider-Man fighting and civilians running. He mutters under his breath: "Now you all see he is a menace. But he tried his best."
Back at the hospital, Nathan sat in the hallway outside Peter's room again. This time with his head resting against the wall, hoodie pulled over his head, headphones on but no music playing.
He didn't feel like a hero.
He felt like the end of something.
TWO WEEKS LATER
The skies over Queens were gray, as if mourning with them.
A soft drizzle kissed the rows of black umbrellas lining the cemetery, and a cold wind whispered through the trees. Two caskets rested side by side with one adorned with a bouquet of white lilies, the other with a silver rose. A photo of Gwen Stacy, smiling wide with wind in her hair, stood beside one. The other held a portrait of Harry Osborn, mid-laugh, confident and carefree.
Nathan stood at the back of the crowd, face emotionless, black suit clinging to his rain-soaked frame. His hands were clenched inside his pockets, his jaw tight, and his bloodshot eyes stared at the caskets like they were anchors pulling him under.
Peter Parker stood beside him, just as hollow. His left arm was still bandaged from the Goblin's claws. His eyes were sunken from sleepless nights. MJ stood beside him, holding his hand. Ava stood silently on Nathan's other side, her fingers twitching like she wanted to reach for him… but didn't.
The priest's voice was a distant hum.
"We gather not only in grief, but in remembrance of lives bright, bold, and beautiful. Gwen and Harry were more than students, more than children. They were dreams. Taken from us far too soon."
Peter sniffled, head bowed. Nathan didn't move.
"But even in death, they leave behind a legacy. Of love, of loyalty, and of bravery. May we carry that forward through our actions, through our lives so they may never be forgotten."
As the priest finished, umbrellas lowered. People approached the caskets, placing roses, whispering goodbyes.
Peter and Nathan stepped forward together.
Peter placed a small folded photo into Gwen's casket a selfie from sophomore year. Her head was on his shoulder, mid-laugh. His heart broke all over again.
Nathan stepped in front of Harry's. His hand trembled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver ring one of the joke class rings they'd bought together on a dare.
"No way we're wearing these to prom," Harry had said. "But we'll wear 'em when we're old. Deal?"
Nathan placed the ring gently on the wood. His voice was quiet, almost too soft to hear.
"I'm sorry, man."
Peter stepped beside him. "He knew, Nate. He knew you loved him. And you tried. You did everything you could."
Nathan finally turned to him, and there was something burning behind those tired eyesand it was grief, guilt… and something darker.
"It wasn't enough."
Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Nathan looked down at the casket again. "I made a promise to him, Pete. To protect this city. To make sure what happened to him never happens again."
Peter nodded slowly. "Then we do it. Together."
Nathan didn't respond. Not at first. He just stared out across the rain-slick cemetery, over the tombstones and the sea of mourners, and then he turned to Peter with a pain so raw it made him flinch.
"No. We don't."
Peter furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"
Nathan took a shaky breath, stepping back. "Peter… I've been thinking. Ever since that night."
"I can't do this and keep being Nathan Drake. The people I love… they die. They get hurt. Because I exist in both worlds."
"So one of them has to go."
Peter's voice cracked. "No…no, come on, man. Don't do this."
Nathan gave a broken smile, water streaking down his cheeks whether from the rain or the tears, no one could tell.
"You have MJ. You're gonna be an incredible scientist. A good man. You don't need Spider-Man dragging you down."
Peter stepped closer, voice raised now. "You're not dragging me down you're my best friend, Nate. My brother. Harry said it and he meant it. So do I."
Nathan's voice hardened, not with anger, but resolve.
"That's why I need you to let me go."
Peter stared at him, heart breaking again. "You don't mean this."
"I do," Nathan whispered. "Spider-Man needs to be alone. No distractions. No weak spots. If I stay… someone else will die. I can't let that happen."
Peter's breath shook. "So what, I'm just supposed to act like you're not my best friend anymore?"
Nathan stepped forward, pulled him into a tight hug.
"No. You're supposed to live."
Peter gripped him tight, holding back the tears.
"Promise me you'll come back someday."
Nathan didn't answer.
Peter's voice cracked. "Nathan—"
"Goodbye, Peter."
Nathan stepped back. Peter stared at him for a long moment… then nodded. He understood. He didn't like it. He hated it.
But he understood.
They hugged one last time.
And then Nathan Drake, barely seventeen, walked away from the graves of his best friends… and from the only life he had left.
The wind tore past his mask like a scream that never needed words.
He soared between skyscrapers one arm extended, webline hissing as it latched onto a distant flagpole. His body twisted midair, red-lined boots skimming a rooftop before launching into another silent arc.
The new suit clung to him like shadow and fire. Jet black from neck to toe. Sharp crimson streaks that cut across his chest like claw marks forming the shape of a spidermore menacing, more symbolic than ever. His eyes, now narrower and more angular, glinted against the moonlight like the reflection of a knife's edge.
He wasn't swinging for glory. Not anymore.
He was swinging to breathe.
"Spider-Man is all that's left."
His inner voice was a low whisper beneath the roar of the wind and city.
"Nathan Drake buried himself the day Harry and Gwen went into the ground. I made a promise. A blood oath without a drop of blood."
"No more distractions. No more friends. No more weaknesses."
Below him, the city pulsed with life. Car horns. Subway rumbles. Laughter. Screams. All of it blending into the rhythm he'd grown to understand better than his own heartbeat. The city never slept, never stopped. Just like him.
He dove off a rooftop, flipped three times through the air, and landed silently on the ledge of an old cathedral. Below, a mugger pulled a knife on a woman his movements frantic, desperate. Nathan's lenses narrowed.
A flash of red.
A line of web.
The mugger dangled upside down a moment later, screaming and struggling, while the woman bolted down the alley.
Spider-Man didn't say a word. He just turned away and launched himself back into the night.
"I used to not take this life seriously. But I'm not a kid anymore."
"Harry was my brother. Gwen was the girl who believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. And now they're just… memories."
"And I'm just the last one left to make sure no one else has to carry that kind of pain."
He perched on a radio tower, the wind whipping his suit like living flame. In the distance, the Oscorp building stood silent. Empty. Haunted.
"Norman thought monsters could save the world."
"But all they do is break it."
"So now? Now to fix the world it needs a hero and it is my responsibility to be a that hero."
His fists clenched. Not with anger.
With resolve.
Because Spider-Man wasn't swinging to be seen anymore.
He was swinging to protect.
And from the shadows, he watched the city black and red, heart and fire.
"Nathan Drake is gone."
"But I'm still here."
"And I'm not done yet."
"Why because I am the Amazing Spider-Man ."