prologue | dual pov
The male sprinted down the street, snow crunching at his feet and slowing his movement. People murmured to themselves as he passed, and he urged himself to go faster. Eventually, he lost the man in the crowd.
"Karen, track that man's current location!"
A drone released from his chest, flying overhead before spotting his target. He shot a web at the building, pushing himself off the ground and following the drone in the distance.
Eventually, he caught up to the culprit and landed smoothly in front of him. He had been doing this for four years now: he was quite good at it.
"I believe that doesn't belong to you,"
Peter reached out to grab the bag of valuable possessions, snatching it away when he heard the click of a gun.
"Pass over the possessions, now, kid, or I'll shoot,"
"Do it then,"
As the man pulled the trigger, he ducked, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it, earning a grunt of pain. He sweeped up his leg, hitting the criminals ankle, pulling him off balance. Peter threw him to the ground, standing on his chest and tying him up with his webs. He grabbed the bag, which had fallen in the fight, and left a note explaining what had happened before dropping off the stolen goods at the local police station. It wasn't until he had perched himself on the top of his apartment building that Karen spoke.
"Peter, you seem to be harmed. Would you like me to call Mr Stark?"
No matter how hard Peter tried to explain, the AI simply could not grasp the fact that Tony was gone. For good.
So instead, he gave a reserved sigh.
"No thank you, Karen. I'm okay,"
"Peter, the bullet grazed your hip. You have currently lost 0.5632 litres of blood. Are you sure I shouldn't call for help?"
By the time Karen had finished talking, he had already climbed back into his apartment and pulled out the first aid kit.
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though,"
Before the AI could respond, be had already deactivated the suit, sitting on his bed in nothing but boxers. The adrenaline had worn off, and the wound was really starting to hurt.
To distract himself, he turned on the news and began focusing on his wound. He hissed in pain as he disinfected, cleaned and wrapped up the injury as the news broadcasted the weather.
"...and with that coming to an end, we have a new topic of focus: the so called 'Spider-Man'. Is he a threat or a hero? Is he the new symbol of hope for people around? Who even is he? Stay tuned to find out more,"
Peter let out a grunt of annoyance. At least this time nobody knew who he was. But was that better? Did he prefer his secret identity or being completely alone? Why did every choice have to have consequences?
A stinging pain came from his palm as blood trickled down his skin. He hadn't even realised his nails had dug through his skin. As the warm liquid ran down his hands, tears welled up in his eyes.
All he wanted was someone, anyone, to call a friend.
He was sick of being alone.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The blonde sat on an armchair, cursing and panting.
The mission had gone successfully, but with a lot of struggle. Apparently, someone had tipped off the victim beforehand.
Well, she wouldn't call them a 'victim'. They were simply lacking their well-deserved karma. Karma that she loved to serve.
The blonde gasped, clutching her side even harder. There was a knock on the door, and a familiar voice called to her from the other side.
"The door's unlocked," she panted, leaning her head back against the wall.
She heard the door open, and a female swore under her breath, taking in the sight of the blonde in nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants. A bloody bullet lay beside her and first aid kit strewn across the desk. The woman was clutching her side, blood leaking through the cracks of her fingers and dripping onto the carpet. Her face was pale, her eyes shut, leaning back against the wall.
"Yelena?! What happened?!"
The other woman rushed beside Yelena, removing her hands softly despite her groans of pain. She grabbed the first aid kit and began tending to the wound.
"Val... ah, Блядь!"
Val apologised, finishing the final stitches and wrapping her stomach in gauze.
She helped Yelena up and she stumbled over to the bed, collapsing.
"Y'should've left me to die," she slurred, exhausted from the blood loss.
Val was not amused.
"Left you to die?! Oh for goodness sake, get over yourself, Yelena!”
Slowly, Yelena sat up, swallowing the pain enough to glare at her.
“I just want to see my sister again. That’s all I want. I never wanted her to save the world, I just wanted my sister!”
“Do you not see that your sister didn't make the sacrifice for the world, she made it for you! So you could live on to continue what she couldn't! She left to provide a better world for you!"
"And what if she was my world?! How did she leave behind a better world for me if my world, my entire reason to live, is gone?!"
She hadn't even noticed the tears that had begun to fall, and it wasn't until Val stepped closer to wipe them away that she did.
"Look, Lena, I understand-"
"No.. you don't. You don't understand anything I am going through, so don't even pretend,"
The two women stood in silence for a few minutes. Val was fixated on Yelena while she looked out the window, avoiding Val's gaze. They stayed like that for several more moments before Val cleared her throat and replied.
"You're right. I don't understand what you’re going through. So, if you feel the need to stay out of work for a while-"
"No,"
"What?"
Yelena sighed, leaning back against the headboard, wincing.
"I don't want time off of work. It... distracts me. From the thoughts. And of Nat," she added, looking over at Val.
Gone was the worried look from her face, replaced with something like pride. Smiling, she turned to the door, stepping out of the room and looking back at the blonde.
"Atta girl,"
And she closed the door behind her.