As selfish as it probably sounds, Peter wished some sort of crime scene was happening at the moment.
It was a small, instant thought, that had him landing on a rooftop and hit his head lightly, scolding himself. How could he wished for that? Isn't it nice to have a peaceful night, where citizens were walking around enjoying their evening? Though, perhaps a little trouble could be a good distraction, to give Peter some moment where he didn't have to look at some cheerfully chattering family down the street and being bitterly reminded that he didn't have that.
That he was all alone.
The first few months after everyone had forgot him, he struggled hard; working part time jobs and applying local universities had him staying up all night, plus with the job of returning back to the original friendly neighborhood spiderman...well, Peter didn't feel like being friendly during those times. A few darkest moments during those times had him shivering in his lonely apartment, curling up on his bed as he soaked the mattress with his overflowing tears.
He was so lonely and it hurts.
But after he had cried his eyes out until they were swollen, he got back to his feet and continued with his life. Because he knew that's what's the best for him, at least at the moment. Everytime he felt like he wanted to give up everything he would take the small piece of a lego figure perched on his table bed and clutched it between his fingers, remembering how Ned and MJ were there to help him no matter what; or he would pressed a framed picture of him, Tony and aunt May on his chest, imagining their warm, encouraging words to have him live on the life they lose.
Things got better... supposedly. He had a job that helped paying off the bills and he would be entering his first semester in the local college next week. His co-workers were nice, albeit that they were older and made him felt out of place sometimes because of the age gap. He would get to know more people and make more friends. No one would replace Ned and MJ, of course, but still. Things were starting to look better.
Peter lifted off his mask to catch some breath, inhaling the cold night air. He tugged on his suit, a bit uncomfortable on the thighs part. Sewing clothing wasn't his best skill, but he managed. He looked at the puddle in front of him, the light from the glowing neon sign board of a club beneath allowed him to see his reflection in blue and red lighting, the same colour of his suit. The design was a mixed of inspiration he got from his two multiversal counterparts, and while the time they were together were short, it felt nice to be around with people like him -- who knows what it felt like to have the burden of the world on their shoulders sometimes.
The faint sound of thunder had the spiderman tilted his head up, noticing the flickering of light flashing in the dark clouds. Seems like it was about to rain, with how the wind is picking up too. He let out an amused huff, feeling a sense of deja vu from remembering of Thor and his exaggerating appearance. Him and Tony just loved making a big deal in making their presence known. Peter pulled his mask down, swinging his leg over the edge of the building to perch, ready to do a last patrol before calling it a night and retreated back to his apartment.
His body went stiff all of sudden, his spider senses started blaring off like an emergency bell, shivers ran down his spine and the hair on his arms stood up. He instinctively ducked, bringing one arm up to shield his face as a lightning struck the next rooftop in front of him, the loud sound crack had his hearing went ringing and the flash of light blinded his vision. Peter recovered from his shock instantly, changing his stance to ready himself for any incoming attack. He wasn't sure what happened, either it was just a lightning struck or something else, but he didn't dare to take a risk. So he stood up on the edge of the building, focusing on the other rooftop as the smoke began to disappeared.
The scent of burnt flesh entered his nostril. A hand shot up out of a stack up stones, dirt flying everywhere. The gap between the two building wasn't so far, and the sign board with brighter lights from the one on the club down the street assisted more in giving Peter better view of the person climbing out of the stones and dirt.
Wait a second -- is that...?
Peter rubbed his eyes, twice, blinking rapidly as they twitch in irritation from the contact with his fabric mask. He narrowed his eyes, mouth gaping slightly while he watched Doctor Strange flopping down on the ground.
It wouldn't be so bizarre if the sorcerer didn't had half of his face ripped off.
This supposedly Doctor Strange had a different attire than his usual costume...and had changed his hairstyle. Ignoring the different costume, Peter noticed the way his arms were bending in wrong positions, like the joints had been dislocated, and there were a few other wounds on his body. The weirdest part was that despite looking like he had been wrestling with a Megalodon, the sorcerer didn't seemed unfazed at all. Peter found himself hesitating on his next move while he pondered whether he should help Strange to a hospital or he should let him be. Magic and sorcery wasn't something he knew much, and what if something was going on -- that obviously had magic involved -- and Peter ruined everything by intervening again?
(Just like he ruined everything by intervening on multiverse matters last time)
He couldn't just let him be, so Peter shot out his webs and swung over to the building. Doctor Strange stood up shakily, unaware of the presence of Spiderman behind him as he raised his arms and opened a portal. Peter hurried over, arm stretched out to grab the limping man, before he stumbled forward and found himself alone in the rooftop. The portal was gone, already bridging Strange to wherever he wanted to be.
| | | | |
The muscles in his body was still aching in pain and exhaustion, and Stephen wanted nothing more than to return back to the sanctum and to collapse on his bed.
After biding goodbye to America, he teleported back to New York, straight into the front staircase of the mansion he lived in. Stephen shrugged off his sentient cloak, letting the magical fabric flew back to its resting spot and was about to go upstairs when he halted in his steps. Very slowly, he turned his body around for a double take, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating on seeing someone sitting on the floor besides the staircase, curling up and seemingly asleep.
"...Spiderman? "
The young superhero gave a jolt, whipping his head around to look up at the bewildered sorcerer. Stephen felt an odd sense of familiarity as he looked at the hero, something in the back of his mind whispered unrecognizable mumbles, like it was trying to get him to remember... something. Maybe because he had fought the battle against Thanos with Spiderman and other different superheroes? But what about this red and blue tight skin suit superhero that had Stephen knitting his eyebrows? Is it the suit? He wasn't sure this one was the same when he last saw Spiderman in the battle.
The bug-themed superhero rushed to his feet, arms raised as he began to speak, his voice sounded hoarse (the fact that he sounded so young didn't sit right with Stephen).
" Oh my God, Ste -- Doctor Strange! You're alive! " He tilted his head up and down, like he was in disbelief. " You -- You're alive now right? You're not some magic projector or hologram? "
Stephen lightly swatted away the hand reaching for his cheek, his eyebrows raised. " As far as I am concerned, I am alive and breathing well. What are you doing here? " He paused, frowning deeper. " Wait, how long have you been here? "
"...Er -- " Spiderman looked around, fidgeting with his fingers. " What time is it now? "
Stephen brought up his hands. " All right, nevermind: are you in trouble? Is this about the Multiverse again? Do you need help over something or -- "
" W-Where were you last night? "
A momentarily silence took over the two superheroes. Stephen squinted his eyes, wondering what kind of expression Spiderman was making behind his mask. He licked his lips, pondering for a moment what to say. It would be a long, long story to tell...and he wasn't sure whether he should speaks to others about what Wanda had done. The incident in Westview left a bitter taste in his tongue at hearing what happened, but he understood how dangerous magic and emotions can be when both were overwhelmed and she didn't hurt anyone at that time. He didn't know how other superheroes reacted to this though, whether they've heard of this or not.
Seems like the silence was too long that Spiderman had to break it first. " It's just that -- I was patrolling around the area and -- well, I saw you, but not you? I am not sure, but you looked..like a zombie. "
At this, Stephen gave a gasp of realization, pointing out his index finger. " Oh! Oh, that! You -- you saw that? " He frowned, quirking an eyebrow up.
The younger hero nodded.
Stephen took a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. Okay, now he understood why Spiderman seemed restless and agitated. He basically just watched his variant corpse being used as his puppet in dreamwalking, he must've been so confused and horrified. He looked at Spiderman, noting the slight exhaustion in his posture and the way he leaned on the stair railings. He was tired but rushed over to the sanctum to look for Stephen and dozed off while he waited for him to return with explanation.
The older hero sighed. He mustered up a small smile as he gestured for Spiderman to follow him.
" Come have a cup of with me. It's going to be a long story to explain. We can have breakfast too, or lunch actually. "
Stephen didn't see the growing, appreciative smile on Peter's face as the boy followed him from behind, seemingly more relaxed than before.