Heroes.
Despite what history may say, ‘ Heroes’ don’t exist.
Even with the existence of super-powers, the term ‘Hero’ doesn’t apply to any being. Personally, I think the word ‘Hero’ is a poorly used euphemism for people who have a stronger will than others. To believe that humans only do the incredible things they do, enhanced or not, because they can?
It’s nothing more than a child's fantasy, a wish.
In my world, Every child grows up dreaming of being a hero at least once in their lives, more than once for the majority of them. Even if you didn’t have extraordinary powers or amazing skills to set you above the rest, when you grow up watching people fly on TV there’s bound to be a part of you that wishes you could do the same.
Having the knowledge that people fought for the ‘good’ of the world, with enhanced bodies or powers that could only be named as super - If you didn’t watch yourself your mind would get too caught up with the amazingness of it all.. even if you were no longer counted as a ‘child’ and expected to think rationally.
As idiotic as it sounds, it took me quite a while to separate fiction and reality. To see all the bad hidden within the ‘good’ that proves that no matter one's intention, being a hero is simply impossible . . .
But can you really blame me? Like everyone else, I’ve spent my entire life fascinated with the people who worked in the name of ‘good’. Watching them save the world over and over as they set history in motion. Justlikeeveryoneelse, I saw them as heroes.
I Couldn’t see the human flaws held within them all, making every single one of them normal despite their greatness.
And don’t get me wrong, I still think they’re great . Even as I grew to require my own strength, as I took on the very same title the ordinary gave the unique , I still saw the people around me as heroes.
Watching them save lives like it’s a basic reflex and thinking, ‘yep. One day I’ll be good enough to be a hero like them.’ I grewup watching and loving these people on TV, I couldn’t let myself see all the burdens they carried. I ignored the struggle simply because it always ended, ‘good’..
..All I ever wanted- all any kid ever wants is to be a Hero . Once I crossed that line, there was nothing in the world that could have possibly pulled me away. And I don’t regret it. Even as the struggles became my own, as the days suddenly got so much longer - my mind would rationalize and undermine whatever events occurred; outright ignoring anything that didn’t make sense.
How else would a 12 year old save the world?
. . .
I guess I couldn’t ever completely block it away, being the thing between life and death fundamentally changes your mind whether you like it or not. Especially when that life is your own . There was always a small hint to it all in the back of my mind, like a slow game of jenga; I just needed enough ‘pieces’ removed.
Eventually the tower would fall and the realization that ‘Heroes’, the people I’ve looked up to since I was capable of understanding they exist- The realization that they’re simply people trying to keep other peoplealive, no matter how much it destroys their lives and changes them entirely.. That realization would take far too long to come with how long I’d spent calling myself a ‘hero’.
Even if I was an idiotic child that had no right being in those situations in the first place- but that's besides the point.
It took far too long for my mind to see more than what was in front of me, hell it took too long to see what was in front of me. The people I viewed as ‘Heroes’, while good , are anything but perfect.
And you may be saying, ‘But Peter, Heroes don’t have to be Perfect, it’s their hope and willingness to sacrifice blah blah blah’ And no, you’rewrong. What you’re describing is basic human emotions.
Everyone has a consciousness--that inner voice or feeling that tells you what's right and wrong. Sure, some situations can cause you to disregard that voice, but it’s still present in everyone. Courage, selflessness, guilt. All manifestations of one's consciousness, as well as the alleged characteristics of a 'Hero'..
People were given extraordinary abilities. People were put in circumstances in which it was do or die . People learned and grew from their mistakes and losses. People are simply people trying to live. Just because a few ‘special’ ones know that risking their lives is worth saving everyone, doesn’t elevate them above humanity.
Sure as hell doesn’t make us heroes.
Fate, destiny, all that bullshit doesn’t exist. You're born, you live, and if you’re lucky, you only die once.
We’re all just people trying to get through the day. Whether you're living for someone else or not doesn’t matter. Our actions, our decisions, our motives . They’re simply the cause of a few chemicals in our brain going off.
Heroes are things from fairy tales.
Fighting for your survival? That's just basic humannature.
Death.
In all the experiences I’ve gone through in my life, death was always the worst.
My first encounter with death I was too young to remember. Before my brain even had the capabilities of understanding what life truly was, I watched it get taken away, from my parents of all people. Sure it was on the news rather than in front of my eyes, but when the first thing you learn is that a plane took your parents' lives , you tend to grow anxious, scared of said creations.
And with fear being my first real emotion, you can guess how things went from there..
I have few actual memories of my parents, most of the knowledge I have comes from stories told by my aunt or old videos taken by my mother .. Mother.. The word itself is so- unusual. You would think that after such a big loss, I would understand death quicker than other children. However, it wasn’t until the age of 9 that I truly understood the meaning behind the word.
Walking home that night was all too normal for the events to follow.. Having just gotten an abundance of candy from the same shop we visit almost every week, my uncle and I were preparing for another movie night, a weekly habit we had created since he worked so much and wasn’t around for many activities.
In all aspects, I could have changed things. I’d had my powers at that point, more than a year by then actually. Maybe I didn’t know how to use them any more than sticking on the walls or opening the occasional Jar, but I had the capabilities. If I had simply done more than freezing when that shell-shocking warning came, I could have stopped my view of the world from changing completely.
It’s almost laughable.
At least it is up until the point I remember the sound of the gunshot , then it’s just a sick and twisted memory hanging in the back of my mind. And by that point you would think I would be able to move, but no. The ringing sensation going through my ears felt like a shock collar keeping me in place.
Hearing the gunshot wasn’t even the thing to make me realize what ‘Death’ was, that was just a noise repeated in my dreams for years to come. The blood - The blood was a sight I wished to never see again, the heat of it getting the gears in my head turning, but my previously protected mind was still blocking away any realistic thoughts from going through.
It wasn’t even the way his mouth shook as he so desperately tried to say anything with the few moments he had left.
Hell, there was a solid 6minutes I just sat there and stared at his body. His dead body that had become so cold so damn quickly. Even when the worded statement ‘Sorry for your loss’ came out of the police officer's mouth- even with all that I remember holding onto this small dream that he would just..
Come back.
It wasn’t until 3 hours and 26 minutes after my uncle's murder that the realization of death sunk in. When I was brought home and released to the custody of my aunt, exactly 23 seconds after the front door shut, I’d made eye contact with her. Seeing that look in her eyes, the glossiness covering every front speaking louder than any words ever could..
She didn’t need to do anything more than look back at me for me to understand just what death was.
After that day, death was simply something a part of life. With that, fear . Fear and death always seemed to be connected. From the fear of seeing my uncle die to the fear of facing a gun myself, whenever I was afraid it was because death was near. Nothing else seemed nearly as skin crawling.
It’s not like I was afraid I’d get shot on the street. I knew that was a once in a lifetime experience, especially for my age. The only reason I’d face a gun twice at that point was because my grief made me stupid..thinking powers made me capable despite having just grasped the concept of dying..
Even with all the things I’d feared would kill, not me, but my family, the ones I loved. Even with that fear growing so quickly in such a short time, It never got irrational. I didn’t let it get irrational. I was too smart to let myself fall victim to the illusion that I was a target. That some higher being out there was setting up the steps for me to lose it all. I was a scientist, I was logical.
What happened to my uncle wasn’t planned , it wasn’t because I’m his nephew. It was because we happened to walk down the same street as the man willing to do too much for something as faulty as money . My aunt wasn’t next. Harry wasn’t next. I sure as hell wasn’t next.
No matter how loud the worries got, they were no more than the result of grief and trauma.
When death becomes expected it’s obviously going to weigh on one's mind. If anything I should be happy I got some time of that small, never fully thought-out worry. The next stage to come was far worse. I mean, I thought about death a lot more than the ordinary kid, but at least it always made sense in a way.
There were only so many ways one could die, and while the list was long I believed there was a limit to it. My parents died in a plane crash, my uncle died from a gunshot during a mugging. Thousands of people die daily, but it’s not like any of them died in any new way. No matter the amount of bodies on the news, each of them died a way on the list. Fire, robbery, collapsing buildings - whatever the cause it was known. They weren’t painless deaths, and they weren't deaths anyone expected. But they were human deaths.
Even at the age of 11, when aliens attacked New York and for the first time in my life I thought everyone was headed for that white light- even then I was able to relate the cause of all the death back onto that list.
I saw 4 bodies that day. 4 bodies in person that is. Crushed under the rubble of the city as those things made their way through. My aunt tried her hardest to keep me from seeing it all, I know. But as she was also making sure we didn’t end up just like them, I can understand that blocking my sight wasn’t exactly mandatory.
That day seemed to last so long.. even after we were evacuated and the aliens were sent back. With these graphic events laid out before me, my brain chemistry had no choice but to once again alter. Obviously for the worse too, as now death was so much more than expected, it was needed.
Without death , the world felt too still . It wasn’t like I was wishing for people to die, if anything the opposite, I wished for there to never be a mention of death around me. That I’d never have to see a body - whatever condition it may be.. But with that wish came the reality that death is inescapable. People will die every day, it’s the way of life.
I just felt like everything inside of me was tensing up as I waited for the unavoidable to happen in my line of sight.
Due to that lingering nausea that would grow the more time would pass, I found myself watching the news every morning. It becoming a quick habit to wake up early simply to catch it, even at the age of 11. It might not have been every day, but living in Queens, getting a report of someone's death at least three times a week seemed to be a set rule.
And much to no one's surprise, watching so much death on the screen each week wasn’t exactly good for my mind, especially since I understood it all too well.
The more people were named the more confused I got. I figured if somany people die in a single day, then shouldn’t these extraordinary heroes who remain so close to said dying people- shouldn’t they help?
I get saving the world from aliens or super-powered villains can be pretty draining, but there's just so much death , shouldn’t one of them find it necessary to go out and do the ‘little’ things?
My aunt has always told me that if you can help, and you don’t, then whatever goes wrong is on you. She said that’s why heroes do what they do. Maybe she’s right, maybe heroes should only worry about the big fights, leave the smaller things to the police.
..I’d been a mutant for 3 years at that point, all I had to do was learn how to fight and being a hero would fall in place. No matter how afraid I was, If me going out meant one more person got home on time, wasn’t I obligated to do so?
I could be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Be the local hero that my city needed. Sure it wouldn’t stop all the death in the world, but it might save another kid from learning the meaning behind the word so early in their life-
That reason alone was what gave death another meaning behind it. With the knowledge that I could prevent it, all the death around me was suddenly my responsibility. It might have been a heavy weight at first, realistically I couldn’t save everyone, I can’t teleport or be in two places at once. But seeing that number slowly go down as less and less death remained in my home -
Suddenly that nausea disappeared, even after sleeping in and skipping my morning routine of watching the news. I found myself being able to breathe again. The dread of death didn’t feel so suffocating now that I knew I could prevent it. With my own strength.
Being able to stop and catch the people attempting to do harm felt like my purpose in life, every day I went out was another weight off my shoulder. Having not done so earlier, fearful or not, felt like a crime. Eventually people started calling out for me, expecting me to save them. For as much as I know, I did such. I made a change.
Doing nothing more than what my city needed of me felt like enough, whether it was saving a life or saving a toy, the more I did the more fulfilled my life became.
Sure things couldn’t always stay that good, it was only a matter of time before I failed. From the first day I saved a life, I realized there would be a day I lost one. I just didn’t realize all the people involved would be so close to home.
Not saving George Stacey was the first mistake I ever made.
From getting him involved to leaving him alone; every action I made led to his death. And if it wasn’t for Mr.Stark, that first life-costing mistake would have been city-wide devastation. In all reality, I should have given up the suit right then and there. Listened when Mr.stark said I was too young.
Nevertheless, the day Mr.Stark showed up was the day things finally felt normal. Which is kinda funny saying he was recruiting me to fight against my lifelong idols, either way, him and his indifferent attitude won me over the second he started speaking. Him saving me from my own mistake only caused me to cling to him quicker.
The time I spent with him in the lab was therapeutic. Much needed after my previous lab-mentor turned monstrous. I couldn’t seem to blame myself for George’s death with Mr.stark reminding me of who the adults were. Things were far from perfect, but for the first time I had someone in my life who knew everything . I knew him for less than two months, yet he knew more about me than Aunt May, Ned, more than Harry even.
With Mr.stark being less than a word away, I learned to feel safe. I learned to no longer expect death.
I never thought I’d actually die. No, my luck would never allow me to die, only for me to witness it. I might’ve been a little scared for my friends, but I knew that either I or another hero would save them from any potential harm. The slightly stressful schedule I’d fallen into was like a perfect paradise no matter the obstacles present. I’d spend the morning with May, go to school and Hangout with Ned, Harry and MJ, afterschool is Stark Industries with Mr.stark, five out of the seven days I patrol the neighborhood, and finally I go home to Aunt May once again.
I made a priority of occasionally hanging out with Ned, MJ and Harry afterschool, having sleep-overs with Ned and Harry, even if it’s usually only one over at a time with how their schedules never matched. When I could I would help May out at the clinic, or finally have the time to study. Not that I really needed it, Aunt May always said I was a little genius..Things might’ve been packed, but man was I happy.
And things were safe.
I had Spider-Man, I had Mr.Stark and the Lab, To top it all off I had my friends. I might’ve had a few, rough times, but In the end I still had Loved ones, I was more than healthy, and for a growing streak, I hadn’t seen any death in a year .
I had a good life.
…
Then it happened again. That cycle where I’m just not enough. I know that the events of the year to come weren't my fault, after all the therapy, I’m well aware of my stance in that situation.
I wasn’t the one who tried to kill a bunch of children. I sure as hell didn’t drop MJ off the bridge.
I saved them.
Even when he dragged me away and beat me half to death, I still tried to give him a way out. I still didn’t use my full strength.
Norman Osborn got himself killed.
It took me months to come to terms with that fact.
Out of all the things I’ve gone through; the loss of my parents, getting bit by the spider, the death of my uncle, the city being attacked, Dr.connor experimenting on himself leading to George’s Death, even when Harry raised a gun to my head and told me he never wanted to see me again, even then, I believed there was reason to keep going.
Death was always in my life. Death took more from me than I thought possible. But no matter who death went after, it was never me.
I thought it would never be me.
In all the scenarios I’ve come up with about my unavoidable death, This wasn’t it.
Maybe I should’ve stayed on the school bus this morning, should’ve just acted like I didn’t see the giant spaceship in the air and gone on that field trip that’s probably been canceled anyways, but realistically, one less person here is still a disadvantage, even if we already-
…
Even if we..
“Somethings happening..” Mantis said slowly, gathering everyone's attention after the long break of silence we’d just had. I don’t think it was actually that long, he only left a few minutes ago; my mind simply had too many things trying to process at once, time had to seem slow in order for it all to make even a smidge of sense..
Mr.Quill was helping mantis walk, halfway relying on her to keep himself up in the process as everyone made their way into a drawn-out circle, the shock of our loss still being implemented into everyone's minds. I was looking around, the view in front of me feeling strangely deep within my mind compared to the thoughts still running around.
The attempt to comprehend our imminent demise left me feeling extraordinarily foggy, even more so than the heavy weight resting at the top of my head, seconds away from being a migraine. Although I hadn't moved an inch, it felt like my brain was spinning, a deep pounding forming throughout my mind making the ache worse with every slowed down moment that passed.
I look around, making brief eye contact with the heroes around me. I can see the matching looks of disbelief , positive my face looks the same.. there's only so many reactions one can have to failing to save the universe - whatever exactly that entails…
Thanoswon.
So…we’re all dead . Except that's impossible because there's no way this can actually be the end of- everything . I mean, there has to be something else, something we can do. We’re still here, we just need to find Thanos and get the gauntlet back?- or maybe we-
Gods my head is pounding-
I need to focus. Surely Mr.stark is coming up with a plan, I need to be prepared for when it’s time to move. Even if it looks like he’s just as lost as I am- It’s Iron Man , he’ll figure out a way to save us. We. can. be. saved.
Turning to see Dr.Strange just proves my point, as he must be doing something to stop all this, the small sparks of a spell being cast around him seems to be the last line of defense we have. Maybe he’s reversing time, or bringing Thanos back- whatever he’s doing I just need to be prepared to do my part. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling , If we don’t get those stones away from Thanos, sooner or later he’ll use them and then-
My legs half collapsed in on themself due to my heart dropping, the overwhelming nature of it all causing my breath to temporarily snatch. One of the first things I had to understand was my spider sense, with the levels being able to change so drastically or in such a small way it’s practically unnoticeable– I’ve had to spend every day taking in the different waves in order to understand the situation I was in. Catching onto the smallest changes have saved my life more times than I can count.
With that in mind, I think you can understand my reaction, as the wave currently being sent is enough to completely block out all other noise; my eyes locking onto the rock in front of me as time seems to just stop.
Understanding the intention of my spider sense has always been a struggle, with every wave feeling unique it’s often hard to tell the cause. But right now, in this single second that feels as though it’ll never end, I’m certain deathisinches away.
My entire body fizzled , every inch feeling as though it was beginning to boil , only without any actual heat. With these multitude of feelings and emotions taking swarm over my thoughts, It was no surprise to find myself still frozen in place. Moving no more than my already slumped posture at least, for as soon as my legs started to work again, all aspects of my being, inside and out, tensed.
I felt wrong.
It felt like I needed to cough, yet my throat was so tight nothing would come out. I was finally standing straight again, my hand gripping onto my chest as if that would stop this growing burn from taking over. I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes away from the spot in front of me, as if looking away from this rock would cause this spineshaking sense to prove right.
And then my eyes did move, and it felt like a shift in reality. I’m not even sure why I looked, one second I was taking in all the details of that off-colored rock, the next I was staring at a pile of flaky-snow like dust. Almost like some higher being was waiting for the second my eyes met hers before allowing her death to take place.
I once believed there was a limit to the way someone could die. That the list may be long, but eventually the ways would come to an end. I mean, it’s not like you could just disappear.
My body felt hot.
I couldn’t seem to pry my eyes away from her..? Could you even count that as being her..? It wasn’t like the scattered crumbs could ever resemble the girl we once called mantis. Pretty soon the wind would drag the crumbs away, and for all other than the memories in our minds, mantis will be dead.
The sight of Drax’s arm disintegrating into that dark mess of flaky shards was unavoidable, he was so close to the spot Mantis once stood, my eyes moved over to lock in on the rest of his body joining the scattered mess before I could even process the awfully snow-like form of dark flakes Mantis was now in.
It was all happening so quickly- how do two people die so fast? As if they weren’t just alive and breathing, speaking- fighting. I can’t tell if my shaking is because my insides are burning , or because my streak of not witnessing someone die has come crashing down around me causing this spine-freezing panic to take place.
And there not even the last ones- I can feel the death around me . The death yet to come..
“Steady quill.” Mr.Stark spoke, causing me to jump in place as my head turned towards the sound. Everything felt so still , my mind itself felt like an empty screen made only to ingrain every inch of the events before me.
“ Awe man -” Were the only words able to leave Quills lips before he vanished, crumbling up into the matching piles of mush. That defeated look that he was able to give before going sent such a wave of nausea through me I almost fell over. Instead I stumbled a few steps, my hands shooting up to block out the sound of Quills voice as he’s now dead. . ?
I feel numb.
Not physically. Not even emotionally. I mean, This fucking hurts. It’s just, some place deep down, behind that scorching pain that's moved to every inch of my body, behind that intense panic taking over every ounce of my mind; It’s all numb.
I can feel the people around me dying. A giant non-stop wave telling me everyone’s vanishing just like the ones before my eyes. It hasn’t even been a minute , yet I’m positive millions are already gone. . . .
This isn’t what death should be like. Yeah, dying sucks. No one ever plans to die. Even still, this is all just wrong. There’s no body to bury, they didn’t turn to ash, I don’t even think the tiny pieces floating away in the wind are them. More like whatever killed them. I get there's tragedies where hundreds, even thousands die- but everyone ? Half of everyone?
It’s not fair.
I don’t want to die.
Yet just like that, the noticeable lack of feeling in my feet came to mind, and despite how badly I wished that I’d once again be the ‘lucky’ survivor— I was all too certain I was next on the list.
In an instant it felt like a tremendous weight was pulling me down, filling up throughout every inch of my body in an attempt to pull me into a never ending sleep. There’s been so many times I’d thought I was close to death, times my body filled with adrenaline as it sent off a last attempt to save me.
But I’d never been in the midst of dying.
Never actually crossed over into that life draining, only so much time left moment where my body feels too rigid- I can’t think straight . It’s like pins and needles are stabbing every microscopic inch of my being, and for as much as my mind is shaking with the need to live , all I can do is mutter out a few throat-piercing words.
“M-Mr.Stark-” I stopped speaking almost as soon as I began, or at least it felt that way as the physical things around me don’t seem to match with the pace of my mind. There’s too many run out thoughts going through my head, I can’t seem to catch a single one as my body moves by reflex, each step I take sending uncontrollable tremors through my entire being.
“Mis-ter Stark, I-” I'll get through this, right? “I don’t feel so good..” Don’t feel so good? I’m Dying. ? It feels like this foggy cloud is floating over my mind, going as far as taking away my vision as this sinking dread takes over; the feeling reminding me of when you get really high on the swing and your stomach drops as you fall down. The only difference is the plummet feels so deep, it was painful.
“Mr.Stark, I-” I’m scared. “I don’t know what's happening- I” I can’t feel my feet. It’s not like the rest of my body where my mind is blocking out the pain, rather my feet are just gone.
I never thought how wrong it would be to not have all of me.
The only thing that let me know I had stumbled forward was the overwhelming comfort I felt as Mr.stark caught me, my arms wrapping around him as I reveled in feeling something other than fear.
Mr.stark had never been very touchy, he showed his love through words and the occasional bribe. Even when the moment called for a hug and he put his feelings aside, it never actually felt like he meant it. Not that the care the hug provided wasn’t real, rather the opposite. He hugged others because they wanted to be hugged. He cared enough to put his feelings aside and do what I needed.
But it was so different this time..
It almost reminded me of Aunt May. When I would come home a little too bruised, or when she would watch the news on spiderman despite my warnings, or whe- …No. I know what this hug feels like.. It’s the same back-breaking, whole body hug that's only ever so tight because she was so scared she would lose me.
I’ve wanted Mr.stark to want a hug since the day he declared himself as Iron Man. Him becoming a constant figure in my life, that childish dream had a chance at becoming a reality. But for as much as I love the surprisingly warm embrace; It’s also causing this heart-aching pain to swarm over my chest, twisting my heart together in a sharp-spread pain. Reminding me that no matter how hard either of us hug onto the other, I’m still dying.
I’d figure my life would flash before my eyes or something, isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? I’m supposed to see all the good and all the bad and then I’ll be ready. Right? It seems to be going so slowly, maybe the reason this isn’t anything like how I imagined dying would feel like, because I’m not actually dying? This is just another close call that my body is overreacting to- I’m not actually disappearing . .?
“I don’t-” Don’t say it. There’s no changing the outcome. “..I don’t know what's happening- I” I know what’s happening. . .
Why can’t I just accept it?
It was only a matter of time before my ‘luck’ ran out. It would have been better if I could have just gone quickly like the others, but at least I get to say goodbye-
…
“I don’t want to go..” Gods- why’d I have to say that? Couldn’t I have at least attempted to fool my mind with the few seconds I have left ? What’s the point in letting these tears fall when all it’s gonna do is make this heart-aching pain too overbearing?
But the words have already left my lips and the tears that had built up in my eyes had long begun pouring down my face, staining the already dirty-blood covered jacket Mr.stark wore. As my tears fell, so did every ounce of strength I had. All the mentally I’d built over the years allowing me to keep fighting despite the scary things in front of me had gone down the drain quicker than I could even blink— and all I could do was beg for my life as if the man holding me wasn’t just as human .
“I don’t want to go, sir- Please- I don’t wanna go..” I ended up choking on my own tears by the end of my mistakenly short plea, the salty taste sending a deep shiver down my spine as a deep pounding in my head had my eyes temporarily closing. The flaky virus tearing apart my body had begun to spread above my knees, yet I couldn’t seem to decide on whether this was happening quickly or slowly. Every tiny flake disappearing feels like a part of my soul being ripped away, but the amount that remains is still double the size, so-
How long is this gonna take compared to the others?
A minute?
Longer?
The feeling of my head being laid against a stone felt so uncomfortably cold . I get it’s a rock, it’s not exactly gonna be radiating heat. It’s just, at this moment it feels as though it’s the coldest thing I’ve ever touched, practically piercing my skin in a thousand icy-spikes causing my back to bend in a short-moved attempt at getting the cold away.
My chest is starting to feel fuzzy, the pain that was once overtaking every inch has now fizzled out into this unbearable nothingness .
I think I’m finally starting to accept the fact I’m dying , and may I say there is no worse feeling. I’m not sure if I want to scream or sob, my tears are still falling just in a silent plea. Worse of all,
I’m not even looking at my sky.
The way too bright orange taking over the sky is such a big contrast compared to the beautiful blue I never once seemed to care about. So much destruction and debrief floating around only altering the view more.
Instead of dwelling on that small fact, I looked over. My eyes meeting Mr.Stark’s had everything stilling down to an unexpectedly soft silence, both of us knowing I was done for and that he had no choice but to stay alone . Honestly I should be thankful it’s me who’s going, the world needs Iron Man a lot more than it needs Spider-Man .
Although I get it, that pain written all over his face. It sucks being the survivor to disaster. If my friends back home made it, I hope they don’t share the look I never thought I’d want. . . .
I guess this is really it, huh?
I really don’t want to die. But I won’t put him through any more pain by begging for something I know I’ll never get. I still remember the day he took away my suit, the speech he gave.
With the last few seconds I have left, I just want to hold his hand…
But I guess that's already gone.
“I’m sorry.. ”
It’s too cold
I can’t breathe
It’s wet-
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe ?
I’m alive?
My mouth opening wide in a dramatic gasp caused the liquid around me to fill my already out-of-breath lungs. My eyes, which had opened on instinct, closed almost as quickly. Although the bright green taking up every corner of my vision was hard to forget, as is the taste.
Somehow managing to stop myself from coughing on the previously inhaled liquid, the metallic taste felt as though it was numbing my tongue.
All at once my senses were overloaded, the forced understanding that I’d- come back from the dead? That realization was a lot to take in, but as my throat started letting off that small burn, telling me I needed to take in air sooner rather than later, I found my entire body flailing around in an attempt to escape this seemingly never-ending pit of liquid.
I’m hot.
As my arms tossed around, my legs kicking against the hard-floor beneath me, the feeling of heat running through my veins was quickly becoming excruciating. Even as my hand hit the side of the container I was stuck in— It was actually quite small despite what my panicked mind was telling me, but the importance in question is that it felt as if every movement was beginning to amplify the heat; the contradicting cold liquid adding to the sting.
Despite it all, I had to move, the pain slid its way down my throat like an acidy-fire as bits of the liquid made its way past my lips and into my body, just another reminder of my need to escape.
I’d managed to gather my footing for a few moments, my arms touching the rounded glass-like material trapping me in as I searched for an exit. Every little movement seemed like the blood flowing inside of me boiling to a crisp, the liquid I was in proving even more annoying with it trying to keep me in a constant float; only making the search around me harder to do with the lack of founded inaccuracy within the tube-like cage, making my mind ring in a ‘small’ panic.
No matter where my hands went, up-down, the top, middle and end- it was all a flat surface. The fact my eyes are forced closed, leaving me in complete darkness with only bits of green ever making it past, it felt as if I was brought back just to die again.
In reality, no more than 30 seconds had passed since I’d awoken. I might not have had any air to begin with, but I can hold my breath for at least another minute or two. I could figure out how to get out of this..If I could let myself think for a moment. .Except I’d just died , the slightest idea of rejoining that nothingness felt worse than all the pain I’d ever felt before, even including the pain of death itself.
My mind told me that the seconds passing were bringing me closer to death, therefore that switch where my body does whatever it deems necessary to live , that switch had no choice but to flip as I leant against the glass once again.
Raising my hand up in the darkness, I prepared to shoot out a web. The fact I probably didn’t even have my web-shooters on me didn’t cross my mind for a second as that silky substance made its short way to the glass.
My body was on fire in all but the literal sense, my heart felt as though it’d take my breath away with how fast it was beating- despite the lack of air around me, I was surrounded in this mind-piercing darkness, and the liquid I was trapped in was definitely adding to the acid-like pain taking over my throat.
And then I was out.
Flying through the air after breaking through the glass with my body, how I’d managed to swing myself so far with the stance I’d had didn’t have time to take form in an actual thought as my eyes started adjusting to the stinging, the wind flinging the liquid off, allowing them to open just in time to see myself come in contact with a tree .
The impact of the first tree was nothing compared to what was to follow. As my body tore the tree in half it did little to slow the speed of me going by, I’d hit the second tree before my mind had time to process the first, that process repeating itself as I made it past, tree by tree.
With no ability to protect my body from the damage of it all, each hit felt like my bones shattering in two. Which in reality, it probably was. By the time I’d hit the ground I’d already felt like I was right back on the verge of death, yet I managed to skid into the ground and bounce off, creating two more similar holes before finally coming to a painful stop.
I have to admit, the noise that left my lips as I attempted to lift my head was nothing other than pitiful.
My arms immediately gave out, the sound of my bones shifting ringing through my ears as my face buried into the cold pile of pulled up dirt. It was now obvious most if not all of my bones had broken during my fall, the pain of it all being more of an undertone compared to the boilingheat coursing through my body.
This almost radioactive-like toxicity seemed to flow over every inch of my insides; from the tissue in my muscles to every one of my veins— It feels corrupted. Is that insane? For pain to feel corrupted? I’m not sure if this is because I, well died , or if I was just cursed by some god, but my gods - I can’t even move.
I’m not even sure I’m actually breathing , every minuscule part of my body is piercing me with that heat and it’s stricken me into this undebatable stillness as I randomly spasm— that only applying all the pain in an unforgiving cycle.
I couldn’t even close my eyes as I laid, minutes beginning to pass like seconds. I wanted to scream. No, I wanted to wail, to cry out as loud as I could so that I might be able to, insome way, release the scoldering inside. But I couldn’t. My mouth could open, yeah, but only to spill out concerning amounts of drool; any sound trapped behind the lump in my throat.
I’d laid in that position longer than I’d care to admit, longer than I actually know really. I could feel my body healing, coating over all the internal burns like a rancidly sweet ice-pack. The slow process of fading pain had one muscle loosening at a time, everything around me blurring away as hours must’ve passed. The moon made its way above me by the time my shoulders and back untensed enough to know I’m still breathing. Knowing why I’m breathing is a whole other question.
The longer I laid, the shallower my breathing became, coming out in these groggy gasps. The hours seemed to pass by, and I started to realize how off I felt. I get dying probably messed with my- everything, but i’d never imagined being alive could feel so, sowrong. By the time my body felt healed enough to move, getting up seemed like a faraway dream. I didn’t hurt anymore, yeah, but all the pain had been replaced with this fuzzy-cloud like dream.
I’m alive ..but I’m alone.
There’s always been someone there when times have been bad, and this is bad. Yet right now I’m not even sure if said people are alive, for all I know everyone’s still dead.That’s wrong–
I have no clue why I was brought back, but the idea of it being on purpose just doesn’t feel right. Not only was I brought back in that death machine , but on top of that It looks like I’m the only one who’s been revived. If this was planned, shouldn’t the others be returning with me? I might not have returned where I left, but that fact just justifies this wrong feeling within me. If everyone else has come back, and we’re all popping up in different locations, then some should be showing up near me.?
It’s half the planet , everyone returning from the dead would gather a bit of attention, even if it looks like I came back in the middle of a forest . I have super hearing; I’d be able to hear the commotion of it all.
There should be a commotion.
If I really am the only one who’s been revived like this sinking feeling in my chest keeps suggesting at, then how the fuck do I just getup from this? Not referring to all the physical disadvantages of me getting back to Stark Towers from wherever I am, my mentality has never felt so low, so drained.
I’ve been depressed. After losing my uncle I was legally diagnosed with depression, and It took awhile to grow out of that grief stricken sadness. But even that seemingly never ending darkness is nothing compared to this.
I’m not sad, or hurt . I’m just empty . All my emotions feel like a faded memory, so close yet so unclear. Finding my way back home seems so damn hard, it’s almost not worth it. Like I could simply stay down in this pile of dirt, rocks, and scraps of wood until this nightmare goes back to reality.
Even as the sun made its way behind me, letting me know the day is going by hours at a time as my stillness is replaced with shivering; I still felt stuck where I was. I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here, and I’m not sure how long I would have continued if I hadn’t heard that little ding letting me know that the one ‘person’ who could never disappear on me, that she had made it through this hellhole of an experience right by my side.
Not only did the sound of Karen starting up fill me with overwhelming relief, it also revealed the fact that I had not fully healed, my body had simply numbed the pain after laying for so long. As I abruptly sat up, I was almost forced to fall back into the dirt due to this sore -like throb filling up every inch of movement.
“Ka-ren ? ” I asked, getting to my knees as I did my best attempt at pulling my mind away from the pain— my voice coming out as a broken-off whine, a coughing fit immediately following my mouth shutting as a new and roughly present dryness alerted me to my need of water.
Not that I’d give more than a second to let that sink in, too many things in more need of my attention. One of those being when the only ever rising ache in my throat will finally die down. The other one being if it’ll ever die down. A few more agonizing seconds had me fearing the worst as I somehow managed to get to my knees; the saliva growing in my mouth enough to create a pile before me due to the ability to spit being on temporary hold.
All of my coughing had the stinging affecting my throat multiply, every outburst of air feeling as though my skin itself was tearing. At some point I was able to hold it back, the brief moment where my mouth shut and the cough replaced itself with a gag had allowed me to swallow back the next escape attempt; my hand moving to my face to help in the resistance.
It took more minutes than ideal, but the need to cough eventually went away. Leaving my throat with a more annoying rather than painful sting. My body might have been growing exponentially in terms of hurt , but my mind could only seem to focus on the all too loud silence .
As more seconds passed I was almost starting to believe I’d made the noise up by myself, some last resort of my brain to get me going. When I was all but ready to fall back down again, the almost unnoticeable pattern of the nanobots in what's left of my suit started sliding up my back, creating half of my mask and leaving my body rigid due to the soft-spoken sound of Karen’s voice .
“Hello Peter. It’s a pleasure to be of service to you, although I must say my systems have been noticeably damaged due to our latest..circumstances.”
There it goes. The flood of emotions that’d before been closed off, now taking over my heart in a horrific mix of happiness and pain . All I could do was clasp my hand over my mouth as tired sobs began breaking free, my eyes blurring quicker than I could take a breath.
Karen had shut down as soon as- she’d shut down the moment the disappearing had taken place, having ‘woken’ up now, she doesn’t know anything that’s happened in between that time. I’m not even sure if she thinks I died, or if I was just injured, so..
I know she won’t be able to fully comfort me, not in the way I currently need. No matter how amazing Karen may be, she’s not human. But what I need right now isn’tcomfort, it’s someone to make me get up off my ass and find my way back home.
And that is exactly what Karen was made for.
“Karen,” I managed to say, forcing the cries not wanting to stop down as an unpleasant lump in my throat was made in return. “Whe-.. Where are we?” I asked first, as it’s clear I’m in some type of forest, I’d just like to know if I’ll find a park fence in a couple hours, or a couple days.
Now that I was actively looking around, taking in this sight was a lot. I’d pulled up more dirt during my fall than I ever have before, there being two similar holes a worrying distance away from me. All three are big enough to hold a being way bigger than me. Looking around, I found that I’m in what looks like a open-area inside the forest, tree’s surrounding every corner, a small path of broken-off trees being seen going into the forest ahead of me.
I figure the only way I’ll ever get out of here is if I just start walking ; still taking a few seconds to steady my breaths before rising to my feet. It only took a moment of hesitation to get up once I realized any and all previous areas of pain had been replaced with a mild ache, as if I’d had just gotten done with a slightly overpushed workout.
I really did not want to pay any mind to this with everything else I’m currently trying to process, but it’s really hard not seeing the fact my healing is a lot better. It’s now around late noon if the spot of the sun tells me anything, and with this all having started in the dark, It’s easy to say it’s been over 10 hours. I was certain multiple, if not all of my bones had broken. If that was true, it should have taken at leastamonth for everything to heal up properly. And that’s being hopeful.
I’m not exactly fixed, but my body doesn’t feel broken anymore. . .
The questions were starting to pile up as I stared at everything before me, and saying as I still haven't had time to process the events of yesterday, keeping on this track of how doesn’t seem to be the best option. Instead, I called out to Karen once again.
“Karen?” I asked, a hint of worry in my voice as I began to notice the lack of response.
“Sorry Peter, I was getting into the current satellites in order to find our location. We seem to be around 260 miles into Gotham Woods, Gotham City should be a straight path ahead of you.”
Gotham ? Where is Gotham ? It must be some small-town because I've had straight A’s in geography since day one. I’d hoped I was at least close to Queens, but with this completely unfamiliar name, I don’t even think I’m close to New York.
“Where’s Gotham?” I asked, deciding getting an answer was easier than pondering, my hand rubbing my throat due to the dryness after speaking. (It’s also unreasonably cold— but I am barely wearing ‘pants’. . Metal pants.)
It didn’t take long to notice that Karen had once again paused, almost like she didn’t actively know the answer. I’d have given that more of my attention if she hadn’t proceeded to speak up with the worst words possible,
“Apologies Peter, Gotham is a City located in New Jersey. The fact it doesn’t exist in our universehas messed with my mapping a bit, but I’ve managed to reset the Data, adding in all new locations.”
…
…
. . .
“ What?”