Chapter 7
Peter was exhausted to say the least. After fifteen hours of patrolling, if he didn’t eat soon, he wouldn’t be of help to anyone. Despite his weariness, he found solace in finally being there for those who needed him. In the past, Peter had been forced to prioritize whom to help based on urgency and rickety guess work, but now, by spending less time swinging through the air and cracking stupid jokes, he was able to reach those who needed his assistance more efficiently. It was refreshing to feel like he was doing something right, especially after the week he's been having. Maybe this would be a fresh start for him? Things are finally looking up after the universe had been using him as its personal chew toy for the past eighteen years.
"Just a quick break and he'd get back out there." Peter thought as he swung through his window.
Before he passed the threshold completely, his spider-sense screeched at him.
Move! Run!
He had no time to correct his course before something fast and heavy slammed him into the wall on his left. His body shattered the glass frames hanging up before crashing to the ground, now entirely entangled in the contraption. Immediately, white-hot pain arced across his whole body. A scream ripped out of his mouth as his back arched off the floor, every muscle tense and trembling. He was burning. Pain like nothing he had ever felt. Pain so hot it was cold penetrating skin and muscle, the sound of his skin sizzling roaring in his ears. His lungs seized, unable to draw breath. The edges of his vision darkened.
He thrashed desperately. He couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t be this helpless. He was alone and no one was coming to save him. He had to get this off now.
Through the blinding pain Peter forced his hand to grip the burning metal and wrenched the net off of him, throwing it into the wall.
His body screamed at him to get up and flee. He was in no shape to confront anyone. However, when he tried to stand, his legs betrayed him, trembling from the aftershocks. He knew he had to take a moment to regain his breath and composure before attempting to escape. His head whipped towards his bedroom door as his spidey-sense frantically yelled, Get up! Get up! Run!
Spiderman forced himself into action, rolling onto his stomach and too slowly standing up on unstable legs. Stumbling over to the window he aimed his shaking arm to a building across the street and shot a web. He heard the door open just as he managed to escape his apartment.
Peter had to get somewhere fast. His muscles were uncooperative, It felt like an axe had split his skull in two, and his vision hadn’t gotten any better. He was lucky he didn’t pass out in the net but he wouldn’t be lucky enough to stay awake forever. There was only one place he could go, one he hoped he would never have to use.
His webs stopped working a few blocks from his destination. The muscles in his arm that gave him the strange ability were out of commission, probably from exhaustion, and getting zapped certainly didn’t help. That left Peter to slowly stumble the rest of the way to a relatively abandoned area of southern Brooklyn.
Clambering his way up to the top of the warehouse took all of the energy he had left. When Peter had first begun his vigilantism he thought it would be a good idea to have a couple of safe houses around New York for him and Ma- for him, should anything ever happen. He never quite got around to finding a couple more options for safe houses, but one was better than nothing. It contained basic necessities along with extra suit materials, a first aid kit, a radio hacked into police frequencies, and a small stash of canned food.
Peter only had enough time to stumble to his sleeping mat and sluggishly rip his mask off before the black completely took over his vision.