Peter WHY...

Peter (MC) swung a brutal knee into Goblin's ribs, the impact reverberating through the icy ground, while the alternate Peter webbed Goblin's arm, yanking him off-balance. 

We've got him on the ropes, Peter (MC) thought, his breath fogging as he landed a solid punch to Goblin's jaw, knocking him back. He's slowing—won't be long now.

Green Goblin staggered, his glider a twisted wreck in the snow, his green armor dented from their relentless assault. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his clawed hands trembling as he braced against a tree. "You're… tough," he rasped, his voice a guttural growl, "but not tough enough!" Peter (MC) and the alternate Peter circled him, their teamwork tight—webs and fists in sync, pummeling Goblin into submission. The alternate Peter swung in, webbing Goblin's legs and pulling, sending him crashing face-first into the snow with a heavy thud.

"Stay down!" the alternate Peter shouted, landing beside Peter (MC), his sharp red-and-blue suit streaked with snow. "We've got him—let's finish this!"

But Goblin's hand slipped inside his armor, pulling out a small vial of glowing orange liquid. Peter (MC)'s eyes narrowed, his spider-sense spiking. 

What's that? he thought, his mind flashing with recognition. A booster—some kinda juice, like in the show. Oh crap— Before he could react, Goblin uncorked it and downed the liquid in one gulp, his throat bulging as it slid down. Too late, Peter thought, dread coiling in his gut.

Green Goblin's body shuddered, his eyes flaring a wild, rabid green as the booster hit—a rage spell straight out of Clash of Clans, his movements suddenly frenzied, faster than a heartbeat. He roared, a guttural bellow that shook the trees, and charged like a beast unleashed. Peter (MC) leapt aside, his agility saving him as Goblin's claws raked the air where he'd stood, gouging deep furrows in the snow. The alternate Peter wasn't so lucky—Goblin caught him mid-swing, snagging his web line and yanking him down with monstrous force.

"Shit!" Peter (MC) shouted, lunging forward, but Goblin was a blur, slamming the alternate Peter into the ground with a bone-jarring crunch. Claws slashed, fists pounded—Goblin beat him mercilessly, a brutal flurry of blows that cracked ribs and tore at his suit. The alternate Peter grunted, swinging a weak punch, but Goblin grabbed his arm, twisting it with a sickening snap—his hand breaking under the strain. "Stay out of this, insect!" Goblin snarled, hurling him toward the trees. The alternate Peter crashed through two trunks, wood splintering as he hit the ground hard, limp and knocked out cold, snow settling over his crumpled form.

Peter (MC) froze for a split second, his breath catching. He's out cold—damn it, he thought, rage boiling up. Playtime's over—time to get real serious. "You're done, Goblin," he growled, his voice low and lethal as he faced the hulking beast one-on-one, the forest a silent witness to the escalating brutality.

Goblin lunged, claws slashing, but Peter met him head-on, ducking under the swipe and driving his fist into Goblin's chest with all his strength—crack!—the armor denting under the blow. Goblin staggered, spitting green ichor, but swung back, his fist crashing into Peter's shoulder, sending him skidding through the snow. Peter rolled, springing up and tackling Goblin, slamming him into a tree with a force that splintered bark. "Not flying away now!" Peter snarled, his fists hammering Goblin's body—left, right, left—each hit a thunderclap, cracking the green armor.

Goblin roared, scraching at Peter's chest, tearing gashes in his suit, but Peter didn't flinch, grabbing Goblin's arm and twisting it back until it popped, the beast howling in pain. 

Break him down, Peter thought, his blood pumping as he swung a vicious uppercut, shattering Goblin's jaw with a wet crunch. The armor buckled under Peter's relentless assault—chest plates cracking, shoulder guards snapping as he pounded Goblin into the snow, each blow fueled by raw fury.

Goblin stumbled, his strength waning, and Peter saw his chance. He darted to the wrecked glider, wrenching a jagged shard of metal free with a screech, and charged. "Game over!" he yelled, leaping and driving the glider shard into Goblin's chest with a savage thrust—metal pierced armor, flesh, and bone, green blood spurting as Goblin gasped, his eyes widening in shock. 

Peter twisted the shard deeper, pinning him to the ground, and Goblin's struggles ceased, his body slumping lifeless in the snow, the rage spell fading into stillness.

He sat there for a moment, his gaze fixed on the lifeless form sprawled in the snow. 

That was brutal, he thought, wiping his hands on his suit, the green stain smearing. But it's not over yet—cops'll be coming. That fight was loud—someone's bound to have heard. He pushed himself up, his muscles aching, his spider-sense still faintly tingling with the aftermath. Gotta move—can't let them find this mess, or me.

Peter took off, sprinting through the snowy trees, his boots kicking up powder as he headed for his hideout—an abandoned railway tunnel on the edge of Queens. Faster, he urged himself, his thoughts racing. Need the truck—clean this up before it's too late. He reached the tunnel in record time, the dark entrance looming as he slipped inside, the chill of the concrete biting through his torn suit. His special truck—a rugged, black cargo vehicle he'd rigged for moving equipment and covering tracks—sat parked in the shadows, its flatbed ready. Perfect, he thought, grabbing the keys from a hidden nook and firing up the engine, the rumble echoing in the cavernous space. Time to haul ass.

He drove straight back to the forest, the truck's tires crunching through snow as he navigated the icy paths, his mind sharp despite the fatigue. Gotta get them both Peter and Green Goblin, he thought, pulling up near the fight scene. The alternate Peter lay motionless, his chest rising faintly—still alive, but out cold. Peter leapt from the truck, rushing to his side, and hoisted him onto his shoulder with a grunt, his strength straining under the weight. Hang in there, other me, he thought, carrying him to the flatbed and laying him gently across it, securing him with a tarp. You're a mess, but you'll pull through.

Next, he turned to Green Goblin's body, sprawled in a pool of blood, the glider shard jutting from his chest. Peter grabbed the corpse by the arms, lifting it with a heave—Heavy bastard, he thought, grimacing as he tossed it onto the truck, the broken armor clanking against the metal. He retrieved the wrecked glider, its bloodied frame dripping as he hurled it beside the body, the stains stark against the snow. No loose ends, he thought, scanning the area for evidence—web strands, blood splatters, anything that could point back to him. He kicked snow over the larger patches, his breath ragged as he worked fast, the distant wail of sirens pricking his ears. Cops are close—move it, Parker.

Satisfied he'd erased his tracks, Peter jumped back into the driver's seat, the truck's engine growling as he peeled out of the forest. He took detours—side roads and back alleys—avoiding main streets where flashing lights might lurk, his hands tight on the wheel. 

Can't risk a stop, he thought, his mind racing as he navigated the snowy maze. Gotta get to the lair—hide this mess, figure out what's next. The city blurred past, the abandoned railway tunnel looming ahead as he pulled in, the truck rumbling to a stop in the dark, cavernous space.

Peter cut the engine, the silence pressing in as he leaned back, his chest heaving. Made it, he thought, glancing at the cargo—alternate Peter still out, Goblin's corpse a grim heap. Fight's over, but this is just the start—got a body, a beaten-up Spider-Man, and a hell of a cleanup ahead. The snow outside drifted past the tunnel entrance, the early January night cloaking his secret in shadows.