TW: death and description of gore. If you are weak at the mention or description of blood, please refrain from reading this chapter

Peter arrived at Avengers Tower as quick as he could, having to swing over countless mobs of the infected and many burning fires. He tried to save as many people as he could, but he didn't have time. He had to get to Mr. Stark.

Peter slammed through the front door to see the lobby completely deserted, besides the few limp bodies on the floor belonging to very important people. He rushed to the elevator, only to find it out of order as the red emergency lights flickered on and off. So, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them three at a time for each story he passed.

Finally, after what seemed like three hours, Peter finally made it to the penthouse floor. But when he tried to open the door-it was jammed. So, he did the only plausible thing he thought of. He stepped back and threw himself at the door, bursting a whole straight though the medal.

He landed on the floor with a loud clunk before groaning incoherently, pushing himself onto his knees. He looked around to see the penthouse utterly trashed. Windows were shattered, the dining table was in pieces on the floor, every single dish in the kitchen was broken and shards of the porcelain were strewn across the area. The couch was torn to shreds and blood streaks lined the furniture and walls.

Peter's eyes clouded with tears as he noticed a lump stuck under a side table, laying motionless. An awkward, strangled noise escaped his throat before he threw himself in that direction, quickly pulling the table off with ease. He choked on a sob, realizing who it was.

"M-Mr. Stark!" Peter cried out painfully, falling to his knees. His mentor was covered in blood, and his arc reactor was out of his chest, broken in half on the floor next to him. His eyes were wide open, filled with fear and realization of death, still in the process of clouding over and becoming fully lifeless. His clothes were torn and ripped, soaking up some of the red liquid spilling from his wounds.

"N-No..." Peter whispered as his head fell to his chest, sobs still racking his tired body. This couldn't be happening, not now. Why? What caused this outbreak? Why was the world so cruel?

Peter stood up on shaky legs, wiping his face with the back of his hands. He had to search the tower. He needed to see if anyone survived.

Swiftly jogging around the remains of the penthouse, Peter checked every single room, turning over wreck furniture and even pieces of the wall that were hacked off. No one was there. He even checked three more levels down, still finding no trace of anyone being there.

The teen made his way back to the penthouse, sliding down the wall with the least amount of debris. He breathed deeply as he realized what need to happen. He had to survive.

He was in the endgame now.

-

fourth and final part coming either tonight or tomorrow