Where could I go?

With his spider suit tucked underneath the cot in his room, Peter is led to a large room filled to the brim with people. The ruthless yelling at a ring in the center of the room and the stinging smell of alcohol are complemented by lovely depression-gray concrete walls. 

He's assaulted by the scene, the man from last night has a tight grip on his arm, a whisper of ‘don’t try anything funny’ is lost in the crowd as bodies bump against him. It’s all too much, the quiet of his drab room seems awfully comforting right now.

The main lights in the room shine towards a concrete octagon with large chain link fence walls surrounding it on all sides. The top two feet cut and bent inwards, likely to prevent people from escaping during the fight. He gets the feeling that if he crawls up the fence to escape the ring he’ll be shocked again, he really doesn’t want that.

Onlookers shove each other to get a better look at the fight in the cage, rattling the walls and jeering at the two people pummeling each other. As he approaches, the sounds of heavy breathing and strained yelling reach his ears. A repetitive thumping noise is heard throughout the room.

Sticking close to the wall, Peter is led closer and closer to the cage. He gets a better view of the people fighting right as the crowd reaches a crescendo. A man, larger than life, stands above a scrawny person who, by this point, is indistinguishable. Their face is so marred with bruises, it’s clear that this person didn’t stand a chance. The man above him lands another hit as the person below keeps jerking and shaking under the blows. If they want to plead, they wouldn't be able to get anything past their swollen lips. Yet, the man keeps hitting the person below him even after they stop jerking under his fist. 

Peter’s fist clenches by his side, an awful feeling twisting in his stomach. The crowd's sounds seem to fall away as he hones in on the man’s fists connecting, spatters of blood spilling onto the concrete floor. His heartbeat reaches his ears as the blows keep coming, the man above them is laughing now. A manic expression making him grin as his fists become caked in blood.

Eventually, a buzzer sounds, and the man stops. The crowd roars as he lifts the person above his head and throws them out of the ring, Peter opts not to look at where they landed and keeps his eyes on the man in front of him. He stomps towards the ring's entrance and makes direct eye contact with Peter before chuckling to himself and shaking his head. 

Alright, damn dude

Peter pointedly looks at the ground as the man walks his way around the ring, raising his hands in victory to the delight of the crowd. Screams and cheers assault his ears, the braver onlookers are grabbing the fence links and rattling the metal.

His eyes are drawn back to the place the person's body once was, cracks in the concrete are slowly seeping with blood. 

That awful feeling twists again, the feeling of being unable to help. How long has this been going on? Was this happening in New York? God, when he gets back he needs to search that place top to bottom for illegal fighting rings. How could he let something like his slip through the cracks?

“Give me someone stronger!” The man roars towards the crowd, they grow louder in response. 

“Alright, you’re fighting this guy. If you can prove yourself, you’ll have a place here and you’ll make me a lot of money,” the man leading him speaks and breaks Peter out of his trance, staring at the spot where the person was. 

But I don’t want to be doing this…

Peter keeps that thought to himself, he doesn’t want to get shocked again.

He’s shoved into the ring, coming face to face with the man that just pummeled someone into the ground. The smell of blood is overwhelming, the lights shining on him make his skin feel hot. Peter tries to still his shaking hands and get this over with. He can just knock the guy out right?

The crowd roars again, but Peter can tell it’s not in support of him. They want to see him dead just like the last person, they want to see him bleed.

The man smiles, his yellowed teeth decorated with specks of blood. Peter holds back a quip about this guy needing some dental work, it probably wouldn’t be well received right now. He elects to call this guy ‘buddy’ in his mind, he’s not as scary if he has a silly name right? Yeah…that’s how that works.

Peter slowly backs up until his back hits the fence keeping him in. Buddy leers over him, a murderous glint in his eyes as he stalks towards his new prey. He could likely hold his own, but right now he’s tired and aching. He doesn’t want to be here, we wants to go home. The pain in his wrists seems to only be worsening and his jaw isn’t feeling much better. The pain flares as he tenses his muscles, waiting for him to make the first move.

Buddy triumphantly roars and charges toward Peter, his fist thrown back, ready to cave in Peter’s head.

Right before Buddy’s fist connects, Peter rockets up and across the ring, latching onto the fence near the top of the cage. His hands help him stick to the fence, though he makes sure to lace his fingers through its gaps to not tip off people about any more of his abilities. For now, all they know is that he’s strong and agile, best to keep it at just that. The crowd quiets, their interest piqued. If Peter wants to get out of this, he’ll have to finish this fight fast.

Buddy whips around, his eyes trace up the fencing to Peter crouched in the corner. A twisted growl leaves his throat as he races towards Peter again, hand outstretched to grab him from the fence. Peter jumps towards the other side of the ring, grabbing the fence and scrambling into a crouched position mirroring where he was previously. Another angry snarl hits Peter’s ears as he stays crouched. Sparing a glance at his captor, he sees the man shaking his head slightly. 

Ok Peter just think for a second, you can’t keep jumping around avoiding him. Do something!

He shoots towards Buddy, wrapping his hands around one of his arms and swinging towards his back, landing a firm kick to the back of his knee. Buddy kneels, hands trying to scrape at his back. As he tries to stand back up, Peter scrambles towards his upper body, snaking an arm around his neck. 

He stumbles backwards as Peter squeezes his neck, slamming him into the fencing. The adrenaline of the fight doesn’t mask the blooming pain in his back. If a night of sleep didn’t fix the bruise then he knows it’s bad, he needs food. Getting hit there again within 24 hours isn’t the most pleasant.

Peter jumps off of Buddy as he howls with anger, he sticks to the fence as the man turns around and starts forward to likely beat him to a pulp. When he’s close enough, Peter brings his legs up and strikes his face, sending him toppling backward.

The crowd quiets as the man grips his nose, blood gushes from his nostrils and seeps out between his fingers.

Shit, too hard again. I am seriously off my game right now.

He throws his head back and roars, stomping to his feet and rushing towards his opponent. Peter dashes towards another corner of the ring, opting to evade Buddy’s clearly rising rage. If all goes well he could simply land a few more strikes to his head and call it a day.

But of course things never go the way Peter plans.

Peter’s spider sense barely warns him of the large hand heading his way, he tries to dodge whatever he’s sensing but Jesus he’s already so tired.

A hand grabs Peter’s ankle with an iron grip and he’s yanked into the air.

Before he can fully realize what's going on, he’s slammed into the concrete floor. More cracks form beneath him as his back slams against the floor. A sickening crack echoes through the room, the concrete beneath Peter’s body shatters under the pressure. Shards of concrete make their way through the air, settling in the pool of blood from the prior fight. 

The air leaves Peter's lungs, his gasping goes unheard as the crowd roars. His vision blurs as he sees Buddy laugh and turn away from him, motioning for the crowd to get louder. His back screams in pain and holy shit there’s no way he can just sleep this off. Peter tries not to think of the person who laid here minutes ago and how they ended up. His chest his crackling with every breath, the concrete shards are digging into his back.

For a terrible few seconds, Peter feels like he can’t move his body. He starts to gain his bearings, the blurry image of his opponent celebrating his quickly focusing again.

He moves his fingers first, scraping at the ground and gripping a piece of broken concrete in his hand, hoping to god that he can have just a few more seconds to recover. He can feel the vibration of Buddy’s stomps, slowly growing closer. He opens his eyes to Buddy’s silhouette leaning over him, fist cocked back.

Please just give me one more second.

Peter rolls out of the way before Buddy’s fist connects, shattering the concrete more. He just needs to finish this, he just needs to push through. Peter swiftly runs towards the other side of the ring, jumping onto the fencing and using its flexibility to spring towards Buddy’s head. 

Cranking his fist back, Peter strikes the top of Buddy’s head with the shard of concrete.

A deafening crack hits Peter's ears as he lands on top of Buddy, knocking him on his stomach. Peter hops off of him, backing away from Buddy’s twitching form. Peter can’t help but watch as he stills. Though his chest keeps rising, he doesn’t make a move to get up.

If the crowd was loud before, they’re somehow even louder now. Hands grip and shake at the fence, cheers hit Peter's ears. They were cheering because he hurt someone. Yeah sure this guy definitely wasn’t good. But if he had his web shooters he could just web him up and call it a day. He can only heave to himself and keep his eyes trained on Buddy's chest rising and falling. He didn’t kill him, that was good. He just wants it to be over, he wants all of this to be over. 

The man from before motions for him to leave and Peter gratefully rushes towards the exit, following the man back to his room.

“You did good, it’ll be good keeping you around. Tomorrow you’ll fight for real, and if you do good then I'll see about getting a slightly better room for you.” He stands in the doorway again, fidgeting with the remote that could bring Peter to his knees. Like it’s a toy.

Peter stares at the floor, aching to lay down for the night.

 “Let me tell you something kid, this city will beat you down. When you’re here, at least you have a bed. You have me to thank for that,” 

Peter thinks about how he even got here, was it purely bad luck or did the universe decide he hadn’t had enough shit? He just wants to go home. Even if he can’t see his friends, he could at least be somewhere familiar.

The man raises his eyebrow at Peter, seemingly expecting something.

Oh, yeah

“Yes sir,”

The man smirks, “Good, you’re a fast learner,”

When Peter lays back down on his cot, all he can think about is the mangled face of the person Buddy killed before him. 

He was too close to being like them.

When he dreams, it’s of all the people he couldn’t save.

—

A week passes as Peter keeps fighting, now he fights at least 3 times a night and each time he tries his best to zone out and finish it quickly. 

Every night he lays on his cot and prays to wake up in New York, even if he’s forgotten he’s not in this hell. Every morning he wakes up in pain, with his wrists and canines on fire, before he’s ushered to that stupid ring and told to ‘fight til’ they drop’. He mostly relies on his spider sense for fights now, nothing has been as bad as the first night. Most of the time it’s like a regular fight against his regular villains, though it seems like some of these people aren’t as evil as the villains he fights. Some of them are just like him, people who were dealt a bad hand.

When Peter isn’t fighting for his life, or laying in his room, he thinks about home and how to get out of this god-forsaken place.

He tried once, rushing the man who escorts him to the ring but he was quickly met with a horrifying shock that lasted for longer than it should have. 

He hasn’t tried anything since.

For now, he’s zoning out during fights and only really locking in when he needs to. Peter just wants to finish this fight, then sleep. They give him food, but it’s never enough. He’d eat a million plates of whatever shit they give him if it means he isn’t so tired and weak all the time. Him not getting enough food probably isn’t helping his mental state either, he finds himself not just zoning out during fights but also while sitting in his room. He usually forgets how long has passed until the door opens or he falls asleep again.

The man that usually escorts him (who he now knows is Aaron, not from being introduced, but from someone calling his name as he was being led to the ring) hasn’t shocked him since he tried to escape. Probably because Peter is saying ‘yes sir’ and keeping his head down. He’s also probably making him a fair bit of money off of him.

When he started his first fight tonight he let himself zone out, trying to examine the building he was in. The only unusual thing he noticed was a balcony with people above the ‘usual’ crowd. Most of them looked more well off than the people on the floor level, he assumes they’re financing some part of this.

Peter is currently zoned out right now, trying to memorize faces of anyone deemed ‘important’, whether they’re on the upper level or if they’re in charge of bringing people in or out. 

Until the burning sensation of razor sharp teeth burrowing into his shoulder snaps him out of it. 

Oh shit, right…

Peter yelps as he pries the guy off him and shoves him across the ring, this guys been giving him trouble. He’s as agile as Peter and  has sharp teeth to go along with it? Dude, pick a gimmick. Most of their fight has been them dodging each other and exchanging quick blows before retreating again. As his opponent rushes towards him again, teeth bared, Peter can feel himself entering fight or flight. He reflexively aims his web shooters towards the edge of the cage, mentally chastising himself for even trying that (dude, it hasn’t worked before, why would it work now?). A rumbling in his wrists snaps Peter out of his mental berating and he looks quizzically down at his wrists.

In just a few seconds, three things happen.

First, Peter’s wrists shoot webs in a mess of blood as they connect to the edge of the cage.

Second, the pain in his wrists immediately subsides and Peter is able to pull himself onto a corner of the cage. Away from the teeth guy.

Third, the crowd goes silent. All of them enraptured by what just took place.

Peter huffs for a second, also pretty confused by what just happened. He quickly gains his bearings as teeth guy looks up at him, slightly disgusted. Yeah, same here dude. 

He quickly finishes the fight, sticking two webs to the floor and rocketing his feet into the man's chest. When the man's head cracks against the floor he goes still, save for the beating of his heart. The crowd immediately howls with glee, a chant starts to form: “Spider! Spider!”

Jesus Christ, at least they picked an on-brand name. 

Once the fight is done, Aaron leads him back to his room and shocks him for ‘hiding his abilities’. As if Peter even knew that was something he could do. Blood leaks down to his finger tips from the new folds in his wrist. 

He leaves with a “Yes, Sir” and Peter flops onto his cot, too tired to geek out about his new biological web shooters.

—

The next time something big happens to Peter it’s during another fight, coincidentally it’s also the last fight of the night he has to do and he’s still zoning out.

The girl he was fighting was challenging, he’ll give her that. She had the ability to summon small amounts of electricity. It was not fun evading her on the fence, to then have her immediately electrify it and force him to jump to the ground. 

Just as the fight was about to go south, Peter was able to pin her to knock her unconscious. As he was cocking his fist back, a searing, squishing sensation made its way through his canines. His hand shoots to his mouth as the searing pain behind his gums reaches a crescendo.

Peter watches, horrified, as the canines he had already grown pretty attached to fall out of his mouth onto the girl (sorry!). Pointed, slightly curved, fangs shoot out to take their place. An overwhelming sensation takes over his brain for a second, one that screamed at him to End it! End it!

The moment the thoughts hit his mind he scrambles off of her and to the other edge of the ring. Granted, the girl who just had his teeth fall on her also freaks out and scrambles away. 

Thirty seconds of silence awkwardly pass until someone called a tie and both of them were escorted out of the ring. 

When Aaron brought him back to his room this time, he was clearly pissed.

“That wasn’t fucking cool, you keep hidin’ shit from me and now you ruin the crowd momentum with a tie?? If you weren’t such a good fighter you’d be dead by now,”

As Aaron raises the remote, Peter doesn’t even have the self preservation to beg.

As he falls to the floor from yet another shock, he can’t help but blame himself for this. He should’ve just knocked her out, done anything. But he was so freaked out by his stupid body he couldn’t think straight. He just grew new teeth, who wouldn’t be weirded out by that??

He doesn’t even notice when Aaron leaves, too wrapped up in his thoughts. A mumbled ‘yes sir’ leaves his lips but he doesn’t think Aaron heard it.

 He feels alien, this isn’t who he is. He doesn’t fight like this, he doesn’t have weird shit happening to his body. 

What the fuck is this place doing to me?

That night Peter sleeps on the floor, too exhausted to drag himself to the cot.