Chapter 12: The Past (6)
Two Days Later
The sun hung low behind a curtain of gray.
Ash still drifted in the wind, and though the fires had died, the smoke lingered like a memory refusing to fade.
But today…
There was silence.
No sirens.
No gunfire.
No chaos.
Only the soft rustle of cloth…
And the sound of people gathering.
They buried Peter Parker in the remains of a park—the last green space that hadn't burned.
Once a playground.
Now a graveyard.
The jungle gym was twisted steel. The slide melted into black tar.
But under a broken oak tree, they laid him to rest.
No coffin.
No priest.
No ceremony.
Just rubble, and the people who loved him.
A white cloth covered his body.
Folded at his side was his broken utility belt charred and faded.
And across his chest, the red scarf, the one he'd worn every winter, lay like a memory too stubborn to burn.
The rebels stood in a single line, heads bowed. Dust caked their boots. Pain lingered in every breath.
At the front was Frank Castle.
His arm still in a sling. His jaw clenched tight.
His face was stone, but his eyes rimmed red.
He didn't speak.
But his silence was louder than grief.
Next to him stood Harry Osborn, wrapped in a dark coat that swallowed his frame.
A fresh bandage cut across his temple, and in his hand…
He held Peter's scarf.
Clutching it like a lifeline.
Like the last thread to a brother.
Mary Jane Watson stood beside Gwen Stacy.
Mary hadn't said a word since Peter died.
Not when they pulled her away.
Not during the escape.
Not when they told her it was over.
But in her hand, she held a folded piece of paper.
Worn.
Torn at the corners.
Unopened.
A letter never sent.
A confession never spoken.
And then…
Gwen stepped forward.
Her eyes were swollen. Her voice cracked.
But she raised her chin and spoke.
"Peter was just an ordinary man…"
She looked at him wrapped in white, lying in ruin.
"…but the war made him what the world refused to."
"It made him a soldier."
Her voice trembled.
"A warrior."
The wind rustled the trees. Dust swirled through the air.
In the distance, standing quietly behind the rebels, a figure trembled—Aunt May.
She was thinner now. Older. Her hand clutched her coat like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Her tears fell quietly, like she'd cried so often there was no strength left for sound.
But her lips moved—
A whisper lost in the wind.
"My boy…"
Harry clenched his fist.
His jaw locked as the memories clawed back into his mind—
One day ago…
Inside the evac drone, through a cracked feed—
He had watched Peter save his father.
He'd seen Peter get stabbed.
He remembered the voices—
"He's just a kid."
"Don't touch him."
That was his father's voice.
And then the reply—cold and sharp:
"You're still soft. That's why you fell."
—Vulture.
He saw the two of them rise into the sky.
With Peter's blood left behind.
Harry's eyes burned.
His breath shook.
His thoughts turned dark.
(Vulture… I swear… I'll kill you myself.)
The ceremony ended not with applause or tribute.
But with silence.
A shared, aching silence that said more than words ever could.
Because a hero had died.
A friend.
A son.
A soldier.
And the world—broken as it was—would never forget his name.
…
After the Funeral
The crowd had long since dispersed.
Only ashes danced through the ruined wind.
Beneath the shattered oak, where Peter lay beneath the soil, two figures stood in silence—Harry Osborn and Frank Castle.
They said nothing at first.
The wind whispered through twisted metal. Smoke still curled from distant rubble.
Then Harry spoke, voice low, eyes dark.
"I want to kill Vulture."
Frank didn't respond immediately. His eyes were on the horizon, mouth tight around a cigarette that barely clung to fire.
He took a slow drag.
Exhaled.
The smoke coiled up like a ghost.
Then he spoke gravel in every syllable.
"Let's go to New York."
Harry blinked, brows furrowed.
"What?" he asked, almost to himself.
Frank turned, jaw set like steel.
"They're probably in New York... those motherfuckers are."
A sudden voice broke through the silence behind them.
"Count me in."
Mary Jane stepped forward.
Her eyes were hollow, but her voice—cold.
"I'm gonna kill them."
Harry turned in surprise.
Mary's hands were clenched at her sides. She didn't look like the girl he used to know.
She looked like someone who had nothing left to lose.
Then—
"Tch. That's my line."
Gwen stepped in beside her, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
For a moment, the four stood in silence.
A spark, unspoken, passed between them.
They took Peter from us.
They burned our home.
They made this war personal.
Harry stared at the cracked city in the distance, then down at the scarf still wrapped in his hand.
You died saving us...
Now we'll burn them for it.
Frank flicked his cigarette into the dirt.
Stepped forward.
And said with finality:
"Gear up. We leave at dawn."
..
The highway to New York was unrecognizable.
Twisted signs hung like corpses from rusted poles. Cars lay abandoned, half-eaten by time. Smoke trailed from craters in the road, some fresh, some old. The world had fallen silent, but it hadn't forgotten how to bleed.
The rebels moved in silence, packed into a convoy of armored jeeps and bikes salvaged from war zones.
Harry sat in the front passenger seat, staring through the cracked windshield.
New York…
That's where they are.
The Sinister Six.
Behind him, Mary sat with Gwen, rifle across her knees. Frank drove, chewing on a toothpick like it was a trigger waiting to be pulled. And the other rebels
No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
They were past grief.
Now it was war.
..
Ruins of the City
Hours later, they reached the outskirts.
New York was no longer a city it was a graveyard of glass and steel.
Skyscrapers leaned like drunk titans. Bridges collapsed like snapped bones. Smoke and ash veiled the skyline in a choking haze.
Frank raised his hand, eyes narrowing.
"Stop the convoy."
Engines rumbled to a halt. Silence crept in.
Then—
THUD.
Another THUD.
Then a mechanical hiss, sharp and venomous.
Out of the fog, it crawled.
A massive scorpion-like robot, eight legs clanging against shattered pavement, tail glowing with a sickly green pulse, its claws twitching with jagged menace.
Its face was a twisted metal snarl half tank, half nightmare.
In front of it
five teens.
All of them armed with scavenged rifles. Not backing down. Not running.
Their eyes were wild but not with fear.
With fire.
One of them a teen boy with round glasses and a camo jacket—stepped forward, raising his rifle with both trembling hands.
"FUCK YOU!" he screamed as he fired.
The shot ricocheted off the robot's armored plating. Sparks danced in the air.
The Scorpion-bot reared back, tail rising like a coiled serpent.
Frank cursed under his breath.
"Shit. That thing's hunting kids."
Before anyone could move, Harry Osborn had already flung the door open.
"Cover me!"
He sprinted toward the battle.
Don't think. Just move.
The fog swallowed him.
The Scorpion-bot turned its head sensors locking on CLACK. CLACK.
It lunged forward.
Harry dove into the wreckage of a burnt-out truck, the robot's tail slamming into the ground behind him with a thunderous CRACK.
The impact shattered pavement, sent debris flying.
Harry coughed through the dust, chest heaving.
That tail could punch through a bunker.
He looked up one of the teens had fallen, gun knocked from his hands, the Scorpion-bot closing in.
It raised its tail again aimed to strike.
"NO!" Harry shouted as he bolted out of cover.
He tackled the teen to the side just in time the tail smashed down, missing them by inches. A shockwave rolled through the concrete.
Harry rolled, shielding the kid.
The robot hissed, then staggered back hit from a volley of rifle fire from the other teens, now regrouping.
From behind, Mary and Gwen opened fire. Frank took position, rifle balanced, teeth clenched.
The robot reeled, sparks bursting from its side.
Harry groaned and pushed himself up, then helped the teen to his feet.
The kid was breathing fast, adrenaline surging but he held onto his weapon with both hands.
Harry stared at him.
"Who are you?"
The teen blinked behind fogged glasses, sweat dripping from his brow.
He gripped the rifle tight, swallowed, and said:
"I'm Ganke Lee."
The end of the Past arc….