"What the fu-" Aunt May's angry voice startles Peter. He turns around slowly, smiling nervously at his Aunt. She is livid, her hands on her hips and her eyes stuck in a permanent glare.

"Peter. Meeting. Kitchen. Now." She marches into the kitchen, Peter following closely behind. He has a terrible feeling in his stomach, but he goes after her anyway. After all, it is only Aunt May. What could she do?

"I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you, Peter." Aunt May shakes her head once he is seated at the kitchen table.

"I raised you to be trustworthy and have integrity. All you've done is lied and forgotten the basic things that I've taught you. You could have died! You could have killed hundreds of people! You've cost thousands of dollars of damage to other people. Don't you feel bad for that?"

"Well, I just-" Peter tries desperately to defend himself, but gets cut off by her angry rant.

"No. Not another word out of you." She growls. "Do you even realize how serious this is? Hell, you could've killed so many people, Peter. Do you have no shame about that?"

"No one died!" He manages to say quickly. His Aunt shoots him an icy glare, reminding to keep his mouth tightly shut.

"No one died... yet!" She yells. "And if Iron Man hadn't shown up at the Ferry Boat? What would you have done? Those people are innocent, and you pretending to be a hero could have killed them!"

"But I am a hero!" He pleads. "The city needs me! I help people!"

"I taught you to obey the rules and to run from danger. Seeing as you've broken both of those major rules and my trust, there's going to have to be some consequences." Of course there's going to be consequences, Peter thinks to himself.

"No phone, no TV, no friends, no going out to eat for dinner." Peter holds back a groan and just nods.

"And definitely no Spiderman. Hand over the suit." Aunt May crosses her arms over her chest.

"No!" Peter cries out. "I can't give this up! I have to help those people!" He points to the window. "Some of them rely on me, I can't just leave!"

"They were fine before you became Spiderman, they'll be fine now. Give me the suit, Peter." He opens his mouth to protest and then goes to his room. He's still in his suit, and he begins to slip it off before he sees the open window. He pushes it open further, pulling on his mask.

He jumps from the window, swinging away. He can hear Aunt May screaming for him to come back, but he closes his eyes and swings to the top of a building.

"Peter, your heartbeat is beginning to speed up. Is something wrong?" Karen's AI voice rings in Peter's ears.

"Nah. I'm fine, Karen. Thanks." He says quickly. He has no idea what was wrong with him. Running away? He's going to be in so much trouble. He sits against the building and takes a deep breath in. This is the maddest that he's ever seen Aunt May, and he's seen her outright furious before. What if he can't fix things?

He doesn't know what he's doing. A life with Aunt May mad at him would be terrible, but a life without Spiderman, if anything, would be worse. He decides that it's not fair for her to take away something so important to him. Something so important to the people around him. No matter what happens, Spiderman is something that he can't lose.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!!!!" Aunt May's car jerks onto the curb, throwing a garbage can several feet. He looks down at her, the unsettling feeling growing even greater in his stomach. What should he say? What if she won't listen?

He swings down to meet her, ignoring the string of curse words that she is spewing left and right. He lands a few feet in front of her and opens his mouth. He blinks, and he's laying in the gutter, his left cheek both numb and stinging at the same time. He lifts his hand to his cheek and feels the mark that will undoubtedly leave a swollen bruise. All he can think is that Aunt May hit him. She hit him.

"Peter, your heart rate has increased and your cheek appears to be swelling. Would you like me to phone Mr. Stark? He requested to be informed if your vitals dropped in such a manner." Karen says.

"No, Karen. I'm fine." Peter chokes out. He moves from the gutter, realizing that his entire suit is soaked and his face won't stop burning.

"Listen to me, Peter." Aunt May moves in close to Peter's face. "I don't care what the hell you think you're doing, but you do not run away from me. I am your only legal guardian, and you sure as heck better treat me like that, not another person that you're trying to 'save'." She makes air quotes on the word "save".

"Do you understand?" She demands, shaking Peter's shoulders. When he doesn't reply, she shakes him harder. "Do. You. Understand?" Peter just nods quietly. He's glad that his mask is on, otherwise she would get mad at him for crying, too.

She thrusts him in the backseat of the car, and speeds him home as quickly as possible. He gets out of the car, trudges up to their apartment, and starts to head for his room. Aunt May grabs his arm and yanks him back towards the front entry.

"You've proved that you can't be trusted in your room. You can chill in here," She pushes him into the tiny coat closet. "Until I figure out what to do with you." She slams the door shut and locks it from the outside, casting Peter in darkness in the tiny closet.

He can feel the nerves set in immediately. They creep up his legs and tingle his spine. They stab at his heart and tickle the back of his neck. Finally, they seep into his brain and cause the most horrible memories to resurface. Being trapped underneath the roof that the Vulture dropped on him. How hard it was to breathe, to think. How sure he was that he was going to die. He starts to breathe heavily, his mind unable to force the thoughts away. His shoulders start heaving up and down with his breathes, and he starts rocking back and forth. His heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears, and the already tiny closet starts to shrink, the ceiling closing in quickly on top of him.

At the exact moment that he thinks he's going to die, he hears a familiar voice. A voice that slows his breathing just a tiny bit. Mr. Stark.

"Where the hell is he?!" Tony cries, moving quickly to Aunt May. She shrugs and places on innocent smile on her face. "I don't know. Maybe at Ned's? He comes and goes as much as he wants."

"No, my suit said that he is in the apartment and that his vitals are dropping." He watches a flicker of worry jump across May's face, gone as quickly as it had come.

"That's weird. He must have left his phone here or something." She shrugs.

"I don't track his phone."

"Well, then he must not be out on his Spiderman duties, if you track the suit." May lets a bitter expression move onto her face. In fact, she's quite enjoying the surprised look on Tony Stark's face. He sets it into a steely glare, directed at her.

"Really? So you know that he's Spiderman then? How did that conversation go?" He moves his head as he accents certain words.

"It is none of your business to know how my personal affairs with Peter go, Mr. Stark." May sniffs. "Now, if you would be so kind, the door is right behind you."

"Oh, I'm not leaving until I find the kid. My sensors found that he's having a panic attack. Now, why would that be, May?" Aunt May's skin starts to crawl. "I have no idea, Mr. Stark. Peter has always been in such perfect health."

Peter realizes, as he hears them going back and forth, that he has to somehow alert Mr. Stark that he's trapped in the closet. But, he's so weak, so tired. It would be so much easier to just close his eyes... No. He has to get out of here. He can't give up that easily.

"Mr. Stark." His voice croaks. He can hardly hear himself. Again, "Mr. Stark." His voice is still so weak, and he's slumped against the door, hoping for something, anything that will help him.

There it is. The random energy surge.

"Mr. Stark!" He uses every ounce of energy that he can muster, and his voice booms so loud that he scares himself. He can hear Tony's shoes tap towards him, opening the door. Peter slumps out, still curled up in a little ball.

"Well, well." Mr. Stark turns to May with a disgusted look on his face. "I guess he was here after all."