Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man.

Summary: Just a small ending to one of the best Super Heroes, you may recognise pieces of it, but I changed a couple of facts. Think of this like a tribute.

Spider-Man: Final Stand

A man in a red and black jacket, with a small spider on the chest, stood in front of a grave. His red mask and white eye pieces kept the torrential rain from his face as he stared at the tombstone.

Behind him, police sirens and whirring gears and guns being loaded could be heard. But, it seemed that the person whose grave this was; was far more important to him.

'I'll be with you soon MJ' the man whispered.

'Alright Freeze! We have you surrounded! If you surrender peacefully we will hold our fire!' shouted one of the armed men, wearing a police issue battle suit, common in the year 2053.

The man never looked back or acknowledged the policeman's existence; he simply continued to stare at the grave. A detective, in civilian clothing, walked slowly towards the masked man, keeping the hat on his head from being taken along with the howling wind.

'Pete, come on. Surrender, you know that you won't be able to fight them off, you're too old' the detective, a good friend by the name of Barnes, said.

'It's time Barnes, Spider-Man's time has finally come' the masked man said, still not averting his gaze.

'Pete, don't. We still need Spider-Man, just explain to the-' Barnes began.

'Nope, can't. There's just no time for it, I gotta date with destiny, the last time I had one of those was…more than 40 years ago…' the mans voice trailed off, his hand still remembering the quick jolt of pain that changed his life forever, all those years ago.

'The year that you…'

'…became what I am today, yup' the masked man said.

The detective frowned, he knew his friend was not going to listen, the police behind them were getting restless, 'Pete…if you do this, I can't get you out of it.'

'I know, 'sides you've got a family to look after, I don't…but soon, I'll be seeing them again' the masked man turned to face the detective, 'say hi to Benjy for me, okay?'

'Pete…I-it was an honour knowing you' the detective said sadly.

'Thanks Barnes' the masked man walked, slowly, defiantly towards the troops and their robotic slayers.

'Keep your hands where we can see 'em!' one of them shouted. All of the police raised their weapons, taking aim at the masked man.

'You mean these hands?' webs shot out of his raised hands, sticking several of the closely packed policemen together.

Every single one of the police swarmed towards their target. The masked man leapt up into the air and sent more webs to them.

'Now, now ladies, please form a queue in an orderly fashion for your free whipping!' Spider-Man joked, falling into the middle of the swarm and punching and kicking like there was no tomorrow.

In fact, there was no tomorrow, for him that is. For 47 years since the age of 16 he had been this person, this masked hero, the Spider-Man.

Now his time had finally come, he would finally be released from the curse that had been placed on him, free from having to right his greatest mistake. He never felt more alive. Even as the small army began to overwhelm him, even as their electrified batons caused his suit to rip and tear more and more, he kept up with his fighting back, never missing a beat.

He cracked many of the policemen's helmets, smashed their robotic slayers to pieces, his time may have come, but that didn't mean this old Spider couldn't have the fight of his life as it drew nearer.

Soon his aging body made him slow down, just enough for the minuscule remainder of the police to move in.

His spider-sense flared one more time as it told him of the gun that was being readied. He told it not to worry, his time had come.

A single shot, straight through his heart, ended the life of one of the greats. The sound ran through the air, it could be heard, even among the thousands of rain droplets, as if the heaven itself, the friends he had lost, were weeping for his loss of life.

'Damn, old man had a lot in him' one policeman commented, looking at the unconscious or disabled 3/4's of their army.

'Yeah…he did' the detective said quietly to himself, leaving the scene of Spider-Man's Final Stand.

It was a long sorrowful drive home. He walked up sombrely to his door and opened it. Someone ran up to meet him, tears in his eyes.

'Dad! They say that Spider-Mans dead, it's not true is it?' cried a tearful boy, his son.

Barnes didn't want to have to give his child the horrible news, so he decided on an alternative, pulling his son into a warm embrace, he asked him, 'Benjy, do you remember that first time you saw him on the news?'

The sobbing boy gave his father a small nod as a reply.

'Do you remember what he said was his reason for fighting?'

'With Great Power; comes Great Responsibility' the little boy sniffed.

'Do you believe in that saying? That if you have the power to do a good thing; you should do it?'

The boy thought for a bit, but he answered eventually, 'yes'

'Then he'll never be gone' the father said finally.

Barnes was right; Spider-Man's legacy lived on. From a young teenage hero, to being an Avenger, to just simply standing up for what's right. He had inspired so many people, so many lives to do more than they thought they could.

In fact, in the near future a scientist would take on the mantle that Peter Parker left behind.

In another past unlike this world, Spider-Man lived, still fighting the good fight.

In a present unlike this world, a much younger Spider-Man died protecting his loved ones, but he inspired another to take his place.

In a world close to this one, his own daughter would carry on after his retirement.

The one thing that linked all these worlds together was six simple words. They were simple on their own; but a powerful message when brought together: With Great Power; comes Great Responsibility.

-The End-