[Dream] Why take the risk?
Peter stood in front of Mr Li’s office, the original founder of F.E.A.S.T where Aunt May volunteered on weekends.
Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter and Training.
Mr Li was passionate about providing a safe place to the homeless, Peter has heard his story, his reasons behind making such a decision.
The man had a degree in Art History, yet he threw it away to help support people.
It made Peter respect the man, Mr Li was on a pedestal. He ignored the flags, made him to a blind eye to signs.
It backfired.
“Peter! What can I do for you?” Mr Li said as Peter entered his office, the man was smiling, his expression elated at the sight of Peter.
Peter smiles. Sorry to bother you, Mr Li.” He said. “I have a friend, Mary Jane. She's doing a story about art imports, and she found this piece.”
Peter was talking about MJ, the woman had taken a liking to reporting despite her young age. She had gotten herself into many dangerous situations yet always came out on the other side with an interesting story to tell.
“She wanted an expert opinion on it, and I know you have a degree-” Peter started, however Mr Li cut off his rambles effortlessly, he had a knack for being able to keep people on track of topics.
“Let's see what you have.” Me Li said as Peter passes over the mask.
“Interesting, where did she find it?” The breathlessness in his voice as his eyes were alight with admiration, worshipful, idolatry almost made Peter step back.
It caused chills down his spine.
“I’m really not sure...” Peter stuttered out as he watched Mr Li raise his eyebrows with a calculating look. “What is it?”
Mr Li’s hands brushed over the painted mask as he held it up. “A replica of an antique Chinese opera mask. I haven't seen one in years.”
Then Me Li saw the symbol carved inside and his presence changed. His voice came out slow yet firm.
The man’s eyes stayed locked onto the symbol as if in a trance.
”This symbol here roughly translate to ‘Demon.’”
“Demon?” Peter swallowed, voice a mumbles whisper.
Mr Li nodded as his lips thinned. “My father read me ghost stories with that mask and symbol in it when I was young.”
Peter should have seen the signs.
”Scared the hell out of me.”
He should have followed his instincts.
“Peter, listen. That mask, it's... It could be connected to dangerous people. Mary Jane might want to find a different story.“
He should have noticed the threat in his eyes.
“You think she’s in trouble?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know.”
He should have noticed.
“Why take the risk?”
Mr Li, walked back to his desk, as he sat down the man disappeared and Peter found himself as Spider-Man.
Spider-Man stuck to the ceiling of the large office.The oak wood from Mr Li’s desk slowly changed to ebony as if becoming infected. It was the only thing that didn’t fit the colour scheme. It sat on the opposite side of the room along with a black leather chair that represented the shape of a throne, pulsating with a sense of power and authority it faced away from high ceiling windows that looked out into a city filled with life and crime.
The room was sophisticated. Books lined the wall along with statues of random shapes, made of gems and stone. Abstract art lined the walls, the colours only in gold and black.
From the roof hung a large golden sphere that was filled with yellow roses and vines, they draped down towards a gold, velvet lounge. Candles sat in the middle of the table along with magazines.
Spider-Man crawls along the ceiling, right above the desk. Karen has already taken out the cameras, setting the scene to repeat only fourteen minutes before Spider-Man snuck in. All Spider-Man had to do was find the files, take the pictures and then leave back to the tower.
Iron Man was counting on him.
His mentor was counting on him.
Spider-Man carefully lets go of the ceiling, each fingertip slowly unsticking before he drops deftly to the ground. His feet touch the marble floor featherlight, not a single sound.
He crouches near the draw, his spider sense tingling in his spine, it sends wave after wave of danger. It’s not what Spider-Man is use to, instead of the calm alert that kept his adrenaline tamed and heartbeat steady, constantly sending warnings, this fills him with discomfort and guilt, like he has his hand halfway in the cookie jar but just hadn’t been caught.
It’s as if his spider genes are trying to drag themselves out of his blood and skin, desperate to separate from him and crawl away from whatever is that is causing it pain in this draw.
It’s like his subconscious is in a full panic attack, curling and contorting in agony willing to risk ripping out his spine from his body if it could. Even though the front of his mind was calm and collected, all of Natasha’s training going into use, similar to the sun revolving around the earth, slow but steady.
Sometimes he saw his spider sense as a whole different person, different subconscious. Right now they were drowning in fear. Suffocating...and it was starting to suffocate him too.
He shakes his head.
He then sends a Code Grey to Iron Man, Grey is that there are signs of danger but it’s not a current threat.
Spider-Man starts to observe the handle of each draw, cautiously checking for anything. On the second handle he immediately notices the alarm, it’s small, a laser that is about the size of a needle. He wouldn’t have felt it.
Spider-Man presses on his wrist and slides out a small device to bisect the signal like a cobweb.
The second the device flashes he is tugging open the draw without hesitation.
He abruptly feels his spider sense immediately go quiet, like a switch turned off. The desperation to complete silence unnerves the hero enough to send this time a message instead of a warning.
It could be nothing but Iron Man was adamant that he be overly cautious. “Better safe then sorry.” The gold and red hero said, “I’d rather it be nothing concerning then risk you, don’t let your pride be your downfall.”
That had hit Spider-Man in a way that was too deep. Uncle Ben’s death has been caused because of his pride. He knew Iron Man hadn’t been referring to Spider-Man’s personal past mistake with that, instead the man was referring to his own, his life experiences.
Spider-Man takes a deep breath and feels his usual consistent heart speed up slightly. Flustered he continues flipping through folder after folder. He had his lenses copying the data that is then immediately sent to the Iron Man’s personal computer in the tower.
He starts to feel his breathing speed up and his heart rate spikes, his suit starts to feel constraining and sweaty and he’s on edge. The constant blood flow speeding through his body makes his heart race and his hands shake. He realises that his thoughts are no longer thinking ahead. It takes him awhile to piece together what’s happening due to it being so long since he last felt it, but then it hits him like a train.
Adrenaline.
He swallows and with shaky hands continues to take the pictures with his lenses, despite anxiety creeping up his throat making him hold down a gag and his chocolate brown eye’s blurring in the outer parts of his vision, making him see the world through streaks. His adrenaline is going out of control. Usually his spider sense helps keep it in check but right now it’s going haywire.
Spider-Man starts to slow his breathing into the pattern of fours.
In, hold, out, hold, repeat.
At the bottom of the draw, Spider-Man finally sees a sample of the reason this whole operation is happening. A small vial, it’s surface looked smooth and untouched, not a single scratch in sight. The inside swirled in a like a blob of red goop, bubbling under the surface of the vial.
He doesn’t even go to touch it, let alone take it. He knew some of it would most likely be here, they all did.
However, Iron Man made sure to tell him not to take anything. Leave the place looking as if it was untouched.
Spider-Man gazes away from the vial and takes the last few photos before placing everything back in place in the desk. The folders aligned perfectly in order. He shoots his web towards the ceiling and as he reaches out to stick to the roof, his hand slips and he falls, confusion clouds his mind as he watches the ceiling get further away from his fingertips.
A desperate ‘Peter-’ from Karen plays in his ear and then he is falling, straight through the floor.
Seconds later he finds himself rising as if in a circle, brain full of vertigo at the sudden shift of his surroundings. Disoriented and in a dark room he tries to lift his head, but it feels as if there are weights tied around his neck that were holding his head down.
“I don’ know.” He mumbled through a swollen mouth with a split lip. Dribble starts to fall down his chin. He struggles to swallow, most likely caused by the large bruise to his head. His head is foggy, he can’t remember the question he was asked, everything feels so much more sensitive to his skin. A small part of his mask had ripped off along with parts of his suit. His arms were tied above his head in chains.
Blood drips down his arms from where the chains dig into his wrists, his arms wobble from weakness as if his energy had been drained.
“What have you found?” The voice of Mister Negative echoes around his head. Seethed holding out a weapon with a familiar blood red-glowing vial in the middle. From where he stood in front of him, in his blurred vision the glow lights the underside of his face in fiery red, giving away features that are as sharp as knives. His once black hair is now pure white, radiates toxic light. Skin a charcoal black, digging deep into the crevices of the wrinkles which frame his endless white eyes that luminaire his face like a white flame.
“I alrea’y said, don’ know.” He can’t remember what they were talking about. All Spider-Man felt was pain before the smell of burning flesh made his voice screech loud enough to make his throat bleed.
“I can show you the world, Spider-Man...For what it truly is!” Then the man grabs his throat in a tight squeeze and as the air is strangled from his body the world turns into shades of grey, he is no longer in the room but is instead alone.
Spider-Man finds himself standing in front of the famous metropolitan museum. He is on the steps, the pillars tower over him as if they are one-hundred feet tall.
The outside of his vision is nothing but black shadows, magnifying the centre of his vision like a fishbowl lens on a camera making his stomach twist.
It’s not real. It’s in your head.
However, when a glowing whip strikes into the flesh of his back, sending electric shocks throughout his body all he feels in pain.
It’s not real. It’s in your head.
His hands twitch as he turns. Mr Li looms over him, his signature black and white antique Chinese opera mask strapped onto his face.
”Why take the risk?”
The man’s words slammed into his mind over and over, such clear warning signs that he pushed away because of the fact that this was someone he trusted, someone he cared for.
The memory caused a pounding in his head that made him feel as if his brain was bleeding against his skull. His thoughts started to deteriorate, becoming someone else’s.
”Look at how this world crumbles.” The man growled from the top of the building, in a white flash he was gone.
Spider-Man spun around, frantically searching. There was a stillness in the air.
“No one cares for you.” Came from the distance. Spider-Man’s heart lurched. “It’s not too late, we can make the world perfect.”
“Mr Li,” Spider-Man gasped, completely dizzy, he felt as if his airways were stuffed with Cotten which made him wheeze. “This isn’ you.” He calls out, desperate. “I can help you!” but the man in nowhere to be seen.
“Mr Li is nothing, I am Mr. Negative.”
From where he laid, pain all over his body he focused on a certain memory.
”Scared the hell out of me.”
This was all his fault.
The electrical whip was raised, he thought back to the man’s words..
Connected to dangerous people.
He had let his admiration cloud his judgement.
The whip came down in a flash.
”Why take the risk?”
He felt his head start to blank out, questioning himself and his decisions, why does he take the risk? He could be normal, just worried about grades and popularity. He could leave this life behind him.
”With great power, comes great responsibility.”
”Why take the risk?”
Because people needed him.
With that Spider-Man grabbed onto the end, it swung like a snake. He clenched it in his fist and as electrical currents spasmed into his tired body he thought like a mantra...
It’s not real. It’s in your head.
Spider-Man found himself back in the room, his body still twitching from the electric pulse that was messing with his heart. His breathing was sluggish, he barely had the strength to lift his head for a second before it fell with a thump.
However, in that one second Spider-Man made eye contact with Mr Negative. The man in front of him was pale with glowing white eyes. His lips were thin and blood dropped from his nose like rain.
Even so, with the way the man suddenly glared. Spider-Man knew that Mr Negative saw the fire in his eyes. The tenacious and determination bright in his gaze.
I’ll never stop fighting, I will die fighting in this life and it sure as hell won’t be from you.
His head whips to the side.
“You’re gonna be alright kid.” Iron Man said as he started to apply patches to slow the blood rushing out of his abdomen. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
It’s not Iron Man and Spider-Man anymore. It’s Peter and Mr Stark. Even with the masks on.
However before he can even speak the metal, glowing eyes stare into him like daggers. “Come on, kid.” He says through clenched teeth, hands moving quick. “I’m not losing you, especially to that ugly asshole.”
Peter tries to life his head but it falls back with a dull thump, pain blazes behind his eyes like firework sparks. He starts to feel his eyes roll back, but before he can pass out Mr Stark shakes him, he snaps his fingers above Peter’s face. “Don’t make me slap you again, kiddo, stay awake.”
“I am.” Peter mumbles, whining childishly before he starts to drift again, his mind already shutting down.
“Lets go through the periodic table or something. You’re good at that kid.” Mr Stark mutters as he continues to stop the bleeding. “ What is Eu?”
“Europium, Lanthani’e.”He starts to struggle to pronounce words.
“Good, V?”
“Vana’ium, Transsision met’l.” His words start to slur.
“Good, tricky one. Ru?”
Peter smiles, that’s not tricky is all his sludge of a brain can think.
“Rutheni...um..”
The world around him shifts as Peter closes his eyes.
As he opens them again Peter finds himself sitting on a medical bed, his knees tucked under his chin.
The white sheets were a bright contrast to his red and blue suit. All the machines around him were silent, there was no noise in the room, yet outside was bustling. Peter was refusing treatment, snapping and yelling at anyone who came near him, so he wasn’t hooked up with anything to check his vitals.
He could tell Dr. Banner was getting angsty, hastily pacing back and forth outside the room. Peter could hear the man’s hand on the doorknob before he let go of it again and continued pacing.
It was a never ending cycle.
Ever since he had opened the draw containing the vial, his spider senses had been put to a halt. It was why he didn’t stick to the ceiling and why his spider tingle was nonexistent. It was also why the cuts and bruises that had painted his skin hadn’t been healing.
The door opens, Peter goes to snap at the Doctor again before he catches the smell of Aunt May’s flowery perfume. He glances up and watched as Aunt May started to fall towards him in a hurry. “Peter!” She gasps.
However, before she can even get close, Peter opens his mouth to snap at her, however after he observes the tears falling down her cheeks and the dark bags under her eyes he decides to stay quiet. Instead he turns away and shrinks in on himself.
“My baby.” Aunt May sobs as she goes to hug Peter, but before he could Peter has already moved away and put his arms up between them like a shield.
It makes Aunt May slap a hand over her mouth to try and muffle her cries that have gotten louder. She flinches away as if she had just been slapped. She takes a seat in the chair beside him and they sit in silence.
He doesn’t know how long they sit there.
Peter blinks once and when he opens his eyes the room is empty. The door handle jiggles again and he expects it to stop before Dr Banner goes back to pacing, but instead the door opens.
Even though he is staring at the wall he immediately recognises the footsteps.
It’s silent as the man sits beside him.
“Peter...”
Mr Stark takes a seat beside the boy on the bed, the weight of the man makes the mattress slightly sink beneath them. They both stay quiet for a moment, Peter looks at his mentor before his gaze shifts out the skyscraper window.
“I’m so proud of you.” Mr Stark says, his voice is awkward but he has never been good at having heartfelt conversations.
Peter’s chocolate eyes slide to his mentor at the corner of his eye before going back out the window.
It’s quiet again, they sit in silence.
Suddenly Peter whispers into the silence. “I failed you.”
Mr Stark swallows, his eyes continue to stare at Peter. “No, you didn’t. I failed you.”
Peter shifts his attention to Mr Stark, eyebrows furrowed. He licks his lips, they sting from the cut and the blood tingles in his tongue. “What?”
“Peter.” Mr Stark puts his hand on Peter’s raises knee. “You did everything you were meant to and when things went sideways you stayed strong.”
“But you couldn’t even look at me! You didn’t even come see me when we got back!” Peter accuses with clenched teeth. His heart feels heavy.
Mr Stark’s shoulders slump. “Because I’m ashamed. I’m so ashamed, Peter.” He runs a hand through his hair, “I let you down, you needed me and I wasn’t there.”
He sighs. “I would never set you up to fail, Peter. Especially alone.” Peter feels his eyes start to water.
“You didn’t fail today Peter, I did. I should have been more aware, especially with this vial. I should have thought ahead, considered options and consequences. I should have been quicker.”
Peter feels a single tear fall.
“I should have been there.”
The tears finally fall and a sob leaves his throat. Before Mr Stark could say anything else Peter surges forward into the man’s arms. “I promise Peter, I’ll be there from now on.”
They didn’t speak for the rest I the day and when Peter went to get his injuries check he didn’t let go of Mr Stark’s hand and Mr Stark didn’t mention anything either.
Peter wakes up from the dream to a soaked pillowcase and dry, tear stained cheeks.
And all of a sudden a painful, agonising, wail rips from his throat, burning his voice box, he sobs “You promised.” Into the moonlit room.
He lays there, scrunching the blankets in fists as he continues to grieve.
He remembers the event his dreams brought forward clearly. It was his first mission alone, he had been excited and giddy.
Peter had made sure to repeat the codes and messages in his head on a loop days before he had been assigned to leave. He wanted to be prepared and both Natasha and Mr Stark has spent hours training him.
The codes and messages were universal between all heroes and vigilantes. From Superman to Deadpool they all used the familiar codes.
(Though Deadpool usually causes the need for the codes in the first place-)
Either way, Peter has been walking on clouds at the trust and responsibility that had been placed on him that even The Avengers has noticed his happy mood with amused smiles and fond shakes of the head.
Then he got caught. He was tortured by Mister Negative for twenty-seven hours. Being thick underground made signals difficult to understand.
Iron Man had burst through the tunnel and Peter remembers just blanking out, going limp like a doll.
The liquid in the vial was similar to Superman and kryptonite. It made him weak and lethargic.
The experience was life changing, it was as if Peter was missing a part of himself. He had to live with the thought that he may never get his powers back, after time it made him wonder if he even wanted them back. But he did...hopelessly. Peter had been in a slope of depression and guilt during that time, people were starting to hint about how this might be permanent and he was left grieving.
It took Mr Stark nineteen days to figure out how to get his abilities and an extra twenty-one to finally be safe enough to test on him.
However Mr Stark never gave up. He doesn’t know how his mentor figured it out but he was clearly just as desperate as Peter for answers.
All Peter knew was that he would forever be grateful.