These Twisted Games

“A twelve?! Comet’s tail, Peter. That’s awesome!” Lyv shouted, jumping up from her spot on the couch. It was probably the first time that Peter had seen the teen so excitable. Peter’s whole body was numb in shock. The Careers had all pulled off tens and elevens, some people had gotten twos, Lyv had pulled off an eight which was apparently impressive for someone in the twelfth pair – but a twelve? It was unheard of. Ingrid, perched on the edge of a chair, just smiled as she sipped from a straw protruding from her cup.

From behind the couch, Lyv and Peter’s stylists broke out in clapping and laughter – he heard the clinks of glasses and a champagne flute was thrown into his hand. A sloppy, giddy grin was plastered on Peter’s face, but deeper down, he felt sour. This was a sure indication that he was putting a giant target on his back. From everything he’d seen and heard, the Careers liked to target their biggest competition first – a solid and sane strategy. Unfortunately for Peter, he’d just been pegged as the biggest competition in this thing.

In celebration of the scores Lyv and Peter had managed to pull off, the adults around them ordered a conglomerate of finger foods, soups, desserts, drinks, and the full nines to celebrate. He quickly found he didn’t like the taste of whatever they poured in his glass, but he sipped on the bitter liquid anyways. It helped ground him and in a strange way, it continued to remind him how he just needed to focus on not killing people so that Mr. Stark could get here in time. He had to admit that the adults surrounding him were insanely kind and supportive, which only served to remind him what they were supporting him to do. Kill other kids. 

He couldn’t do that.

He found himself explaining to everyone over and over again what he’d done throughout the two training days to deserve the score. At one point, Lyv forced him to tell everyone how quickly he’d gotten through the labyrinth — she also told Peter he was the only tribute to actually complete it this year. At Peter’s confusion in an ancient language from Earth, Ingrid waved her hand and dismissed him. “Everyone knows ancient civilizations came to Earth and helped jump-start the knowledge and organization of Homosapien civilization, Peter.”

All Peter could respond with was “I knew it!” Ned was going to be ecstatic to learn that all the paranormal podcasts he and Peter listened to while studying and playing video games was true.

If he ever saw Ned again, that was.

After a while of mingling, laughing, and chatting with everyone in the room, he felt a familiar tug on his sleeve. Peter turned to see Lyv motion towards the same hallway she’d led him down two nights before, the one that led to the roof. Peter glanced at the room around him - Ingrid had disappeared and the rest of the adults were too consumed with one another and the delicacies in the room to even notice Lyv and Peter slipping out.

He followed Lyv, and she led him right back to their rooftop conversation spot. As he settled onto the side of the building, Lyv pulled out a holopad and powered it up. “What’s this?” Peter asked, furrowing his brows. Lyv was pulling up a video.

“Ingrid’s games.”

Now this was interesting. Their mentor was an enigma to Peter, for the most part. She seemed to be not wildly much older than him, but a jaded tinge under her eyes clued Peter’s senses into the idea that there was so much more to her than it seemed. She didn’t seem to have any powers – as Lyv said, it was entirely possible she won from simply being good at fighting. Having fought beside Nat and Clint for some time now, Peter was no stranger to normal people excelling more than most at combat, and, well… killing people.

“How did you get this? Is she going to be upset?” Peter inquired as a video began loading up on the screen. 

“I asked my room attendant if we were allowed training materials in our room. He asked what I needed, and I told him I just wanted to watch some old games,” Lyv said, shrugging as she scooched closer to Peter and held the tablet in between them so they could watch. Peter nodded, stomach twisting as the games began with commentary. He hated watching the games. Watching kids killing one another never got easier for him, especially considering it’d only been two days since he’d arrived here. “Ingrid won the fiftieth Quarter Quell.”

“What’s a Quarter Quell?” Peter asked.

“Every 25 years, the Gamemakers like to put a special ‘twist’ on the games, I guess. Ingrid’s year, there were twice as many tributes. She had to outlast forty-seven others rather than twenty-three.”

With that, Ingrid’s games began.

The arena was insane – Peter was convinced the games had to have taken place on another planet. It was a huge, abandoned cityscape, though it was far too advanced and alien to be anything from Earth. The skyscrapers were tall and loomed high into the sky. The boundaries of the arena itself didn’t seem particularly large, but there was enough space in buildings that made the pure square footage of the arena massive. Peter desperately hoped their arena would resemble something like this; this is what he knew. He’d excel in an arena like this.

The games were an absolute bloodbath. Ingrid ran off at the start and kept to herself. It didn’t seem like she was interested in making friends, and Peter noted that while she didn’t seek out others to kill, she was particularly good at when needed. She’d gotten her hands on an ax early in the games and proved to be skillful with it, taking out any other tributes who challenged her. She set up camp in the top floors of one of the skyscrapers for a day or two before the Gamemakers sent in monstrous, insect Muttations, as Lyv called them, to flush her out back into the streets with the rest of the tributes.

Peter was amazed by the things he saw — fire coming from people’s hands, people turning into water, people turning into metal, people bending the pavement and soil around them, people teleporting, people flying — this would’ve been SHIELD’s dream, Peter thought to himself. The teenagers in the arena were showcasing some of the most unique and out-of-this world abilities Peter had ever seen, from the twelve year olds who had been voted in all the way to the full-grown 18-year-olds in their prime. 

After Ingrid was forced back onto the streets, she got into more and more fights, and gathered a new ax that seemed to be some kind of bioformed weapon that injected poison into the bloodstream of any creatures Ingrid hit. One thing that was rather obvious to Peter was the distress in Ingrid. Maybe Lyv and the commentators didn’t notice it, or maybe they did and didn’t want to say anything, but to Peter, it was so, so obvious. With every fell of her ax, Ingrid seemed to be more and more unwilling to continue on in the games. Each boom of a cannon caused strain on her face that exhibited so much pain, so much weariness… it was obvious she was determined to win, but was not happy about it.

Eventually, the competition came down between Ingrid and another tribute who seemed to have the power of energy manipulation. He was a large, brooding man who possessed pure brute strength on top of his powers — as he blasted balls of energy that exploded upon contact at other tributes, blessing them with swift but painful deaths. He hunted Ingrid down, battered and bloodthirsty and ready to win the games. Ingrid was simply continuing to survive and evade her competition, who wasn’t exactly stealthy. In order to force the two closer together, Peter and Lyv watched a massive, crackling storm begin to encroach around the outskirts of the arena. The eye of the storm quickly sank in size, formidable and precise lightning strikes chasing Ingrid through the streets towards the other tribute’s location.

Peter found himself clenching his fists and chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched Ingrid frantically run from the storm, directly towards the path of the other tribute. He knew how this would end, but it still made him nervous. Just like how nervous he got every time he watched the Return of the Jedi; he knew how it ended, but it was always nerve wracking nonetheless. 

As Ingrid raced around the corner of a block, she was thrown back fifteen feet through the air when a blast of energy destroyed the cement her feet had been about to step on to. Clothes and hair smoldering, Ingrid grimaced and tried to push herself back to her feet while the other tribute gleefully walked through the street with bloodthirsty eyes. Twisting tendrils of light were creeping around his arms. He made most other tribute’s deaths quick, but it seemed like he wanted to relish the moment.

Back on her feet, Ingrid braced a shield in front of her, venomous axe gripped tightly in her other hand. A ferocious look was glued on her face; at this point, it appeared as though she’d do whatever it took just to get out of the arena. 

The storm’s approach faltered, limiting the battlefield to the single street that Ingrid and the other tribute occupied. The hazy purple cloud crackled as Ingrid clutched her weapons, eyes reflecting with lightning. The tension, palpable in the air, rages as Ingrid remains focus and composed, eyes locked on the other tribute. The boy confidentially begins to hurl a barrage of blazing energy balls towards Ingrid, each one crackling with destructive power.

Much to Peter’s surprise, he watched as Ingrid gracefully dodged and weaved through the street, expertly maneuvering around each ball. Lyv and Peter watched in awe as Ingrid engaged in a beautiful dance through the battlefield with fluid and calculated movements. This was the moment Peter realized Ingrid wasn’t any normal person, not even like Nat or Clint. She was something more.

As the boy prepared to unleash a particularly powerful energy blast, Ingrid seized the opportunity. With a swift and agile movement, Ingrid leapt on top of a crashed hovercraft and vaulted herself into the air. A small burst of air passed through Lyv’s lips in a gasp as Ingrid soared above the boy, momentarily out of reach of his attacks. He couldn’t move fast enough to get to her. She descended rapidly, her eyes fixed on the boy. With incredible precision, she unleashed a series of lightning-fast swings with her ax. The ax connected with pinpoint accuracy. It bounced off his body armor, hardly leaving a dent, but disrupted the boy’s concentration nonetheless. 

She seized the momentary distraction. As she landed gracefully behind the boy, she swiftly ran forward and closed the distance, knowing that his powers were not nearly as effective within melee range. With a swift move, she lifted her leg in the air to deliver a powerful blow to the large boy’s chest, knocking him to the ground.

He struggled to regain his footing, energy powers flickering around his arms in uncertainty. Ingrid, however, continued to press her advantage, movements fueled by pure desperation and a final push through her exhaustion. With a final, decisive strike, Ingrid’s blade planted itself so deeply in his chest that spurts of blood immediately began to leak from the boy’s mouth.

The commentators bursted into an array of words and cheering and shouting, but Lyv and Peter were silent. Ingrid fell to her knees, ax falling from her hands. She placed her palm on the boy’s shaking chest. Without words, she stared at the boy until the final cannon of the games rang through the arena, the storm dissipating almost instantaneously. Tears fell from her eyes as her chest rose and fell in haggard movements, the mask of adrenaline wiping from her face as she allowed the full realization of what had just happened hit her. Hand still on the boy’s now-still chest, she closed her eyes and lifted her face into the air.

The holopad turned black.

Lyv and Peter sat in silence for a few moments, the only noise hitting their ears being the celebrations from the city below. It took them a few moments to register everything they’d watched over the past two hours. All the games Peter had watched the past few days were atrocious, but seeing someone he knew in it — seeing his mentor… well, he could understand where the drinking problem came from.

“Wow.” Peter said in a mixture of disbelief and horror.

“I know,” Lyv finished. Dread settled over her chest. Peter furrowed his brows. 

“I… who is she? Do you know? I mean, it didn’t seem like she had any powers, but it did,” Peter said. He knew that it didn’t really make sense. However, Peter was used to people who contained more than what meets the eye.

Lyv sighed. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors over the years. There was a victor from my planet a couple years back, she was pretty good friends with my older sister. Her familiar is a flerken. She won, like a couple years before Ingrid I think? But anyways, she was Ingrid’s mentor.”

“What’s a flerken?” Peter asked innocently, turning his head to face Lyv. Lyv rolled her eyes, clearly exhausted by someone who knew so little of the universe around them.

“It’s… well, they’re very kind creatures until they’re not, especially when they’re familiars. Anyways, my sister’s friend was Ingrid’s mentor. She said…” Lyv glanced around just to double check that the rooftop was empty as it had been when they came up here. Lyv’s tone grew quieter and more serious.

“She said that she’s from a distant planet where their people have incredible strength and prowess in battle. That she became just a soldier when she was a young teen, and everyone in her squadron was murdered. She came here and was voted in the games when she was seventeen because… well, I don’t really know why. But she used to be a big deal, I guess,” Lyv quietly explained. There were so many questions left unanswered, so many things Peter wanted to know — but Lyv quickly dismissed herself to go to bed, clearly perturbed by what they’d watched. Honestly, Peter was too.

He took the sleeping pill that night. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Peter was woken up bright and early the next morning.

He was grateful that he took the sleeping pill, because everything that followed necessitated that Peter had full brain power and full energy for everything that came next.

Peter knew he was awkward — he’d been blessed with many things, but social skills were not among the powers that the radioactive spider from Oscorp had given him. They started out the morning by Ingrid informing him and Lyv that her and the prep team would be coaching them through the interview process that was to come that evening.

“You have to get your sponsors to like you. Unfortunately, tributes are limited to sponsors that are able to watch the games in live-time,” Ingrid explained after a vigorous round where Ingrid asked the both of them random surprise questions to see how they’d respond, then proceed to assess and criticize their responses (which she did rather harshly, much to Peter’s dismay).

“What do you mean, live-time?” Peter asked, shifting uncomfortably in the stiff chair Ingrid was making him practice in.

“Time works differently on Sakaar. By the time the games are finished, most planets will still be watching the interviews come through. People on Sakaar are the only ones who are able to watch live, and therefore the only ones who are really able to sponsor.”

Halfway through Ingrid’s speech, Peter tuned out and everything around him grew into a high-pitched whirring noise. He felt his heart catch and for a moment, it became hard to breathe. Nothing else in the room mattered. Time works differently on Sakaar.

By the time the Avengers figured out where Peter was and how to rescue him, he’d be dead. 

After Peter was forced to snap out of his trance, the prep teams were guiding Lyv in how to walk in heels (because apparently those weren’t really a staple of fashion where she was from) and fitted Peter for whatever he was going to be wearing later. He hoped it was just some kind of suit and not some frilly monstrosity like he’d worn earlier. He was told what to say, how to act, and the prep team and Ingrid even ran Peter through a series of facial muscle warm ups and worked on his “natural” resting face to make him more appealing to the masses. He learned a lot about Sakaarian culture and things he should and shouldn’t say, and the things they liked about the games. Ingrid and Lyv argued with the prep team over Peter’s appearance, claiming he needed to act tough and very scary, while the prep team thought Peter should lean into his youthful looks and humor. All the while, Peter uncomfortably sat in his chair with his hands clasped together as he listened to people argue about his strengths and flaws. He did not like it. Surprisingly, Ingrid and Lyv lost that battle, and the prep team told Peter to just be himself. 

By the time Peter was ready to go to the prep team, he was already mentally exhausted. He’d much rather spend a day training than a day doing mock interviews. He already hated whenever Spider-Man had to talk to news reporters or government officials. This stuff sucked.

The prep team went over his body again and pruned him like a chicken, plucked stray hairs and made his curls as curly as they ever could be. His mop was trimmed up and styled, makeup was airbrushed onto his face so subtly he couldn’t really even see it in the mirror, and he was fitted into a dapper red and blue tuxedo. He checked the outfit in the mirror while the prep team smoothed it and straightened it and got every last piece of lint off of it. The silky material sat comfortably on his skin, and he had to admit that it did look particularly good on him. His heart panged seeing the red and blue and being reminded of Spider-Man, though. He should be briefing missions with the team right now, not participating in an interview on the eve of a game revolving around killing a bunch of kids. 

The door to the prep room slid open, and Ingrid stared at Peter. For once, her hardened facial expression softened and her eyes stared with sympathy at the nervous, jittery seventeen-year-old. “It’s time.”

Being shuttled through the city to the facility that the interviews held at was quite the ordeal. Peter rubbed the cuffs hidden under the sleeves of his tux absentmindedly. He was sort of glad they were on at the exact moment, for the cheering of the crowd was so loud it probably would’ve hurt Peter’s ears pretty badly. His security detail was extensive, and they kept the crowd at bay while him and Lyv were shoved into a hover car. Through the windows, Peter spotted other tributes being shoved into their cars. The crowd seemed really enthusiastic about him; Peter wondered if the high score really was a big deal to these people.

Peter turned his head. It didn’t matter if they liked him. He wasn’t going to do what they wanted him to do.

Peter did not expect a crowd this large. They were boisterous, they were interactive, they shouted and cheered and laughed and cried and seemed to eat this all up. “This is sickening,” Peter said, leaning down to whisper in Lyv’s ear. Lyv’s pale skin was paler than normal, even through all the makeup they’d caked on the younger teen. She nodded.

“They love this stuff. Use it to your advantage, I guess,” Lyv whispered back. The tribute in front of Lyv shot them a nasty look, and Peter looked away. He felt naked without his suit. He didn’t have any of the confidence that Spider-Man did. 

One, Two, Three, and Four predictably played the crowd better than Peter could ever dream of doing and soaked all of the attention up. It certainly made sense that they campaigned for this, but it still seemed strange to Peter that they acted like politicians but instead of politics, it was about killing other kids.

Peter was antsy, constantly shaking his hands and shifting his weight from leg to leg, occasionally pacing back and forth at the end of the line. A few times, Lyv grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze, which helped, but not much. He did begin to find that being in her presence was comforting, though. 

Five was super smart. Peter got that right off the bat. Possibly even as smart or smarter than Peter. How smart are people from space? Would I, like, be a really dumb person in space? Or am I still pretty smart comparatively? I feel like if I can do the things I can with our limited Earth tech, then I’ve gotta be up there. They have to throw me in one of the labs here. I bet I could do some real damage. But this kid is smart! And he’s only thirteen! I don’t know, that just feels insane. I wonder what his powers are. Maybe his powers are just being smart. But maybe that’s what people think about me too… Peter clung to his endless train of thoughts to try to quell his anxiety and he found that it was at least half successful. It definitely aided in the time passing by. 

Peter noticed Nine was really pretty. She reminded Peter of MJ. Eleven and Twelve both gave Peter the most sinister vibes — every time he looked at them he felt a chill run through his spine. He made a mental note to stay away from them, dangerous or not. He caught that Sixteen had super speed and for a moment, his mind flashed back to conversations him and Ned would have about how difficult defeating a Speedster would be— obstacles, precise hits, and wearing out their mental battery, Peter — it’s the only way, Ned’s voice rang in Peter’s head. The only speedster Peter knew of was Wanda’s brother, but he died and it was kind of a sore subject for the team so Peter still wasn’t sure what had happened there. 

That conversation didn’t matter, because Peter wouldn’t be defeating any speedsters. 

Allen, who was Shayna’s counterpart, was a bumbling doofus but he managed to make it charming nonetheless. Peter noticed that the man doing the interviews, who called himself Zephyr Starborne, was really good at highlighting the best parts of each participant. The man was an indeterminable age. His skin was dyed a light lavender color and his hair was dyed a deep hue of violet to match, studded with diamonds throughout the extravagant, flowing hairstyle. His suit matched his hair, a deep, rich violet color; this man definitely embodied the rest of the people Peter had seen on Sakaar. He was talented at making each tribute look great which helped ease some of Peter’s anxiety; even if he didn’t know what to say, Zephyr was sure to make Peter look better than he’d be able to do on his own. Shayna’s interview went flawlessly. Peter recalled she’d only scored a four, but she was incredibly witty and charming, and the audience seemed to warm up to her a lot by the end. Maybe that was a strategy. Don’t make herself a target, and slink by until there were only a few tributes left. Peter didn’t have that option anymore. He was given a twelve. 

By the time Twenty-one and Twenty-two stopped giving Peter and Lyv dirty looks and gave their interviews, both Peter and Lyv were shaking. “It’s gonna be okay,” Peter said out loud in a nervous, squeaky voice. It was mostly for himself, but Lyv nodded and seemed to take the words to heart.

“Yea, it will be,” she repeated. At that, the assistants at the bottom of the steps to the stage beckoned for Lyv to come forward and as sudden as she was there she was gone, bouncing across the stage and trying to channel the “girlish charm” Ingrid had goaded her into exuding as she made her way towards Zephyr. Peter clenched his fists. He was so nervous for Lyv that he barely even had time to be nervous for himself.

As the cheering died down and Lyv sat down as she waved to the crowd, Zephyr gave some small claps and patted Lyv’s leg. She was wearing a gorgeous, mauve purple dress that scintillated in the bright stage lights. There was a sort of green glow from underneath the sheer material of the top layer of the dress; Peter wasn’t sure how the stylists even made that. He wish he had more time here to figure out their technology.

“Lyvernae! Our beautiful Twenty-third tribute from the Twelfth pair. Lyv, I hear you hail from Astralis,” Zephyr said in a bright and bubbly tone. Peter was astounded how he sounded no different in this interview than the first one. He envied Zephyr’s social battery. At the name of Lyv’s home planet, the crowd let out a loud cheer and Zephyr smiled and laughed with the crowd. “One of our planet’s most favorite victors is from Astralis. Do you happen to know her?”

Lyv nodded and flashed a bright smile at the crowd. “Yes, she’s good friends with my older sister. She’s very kind! Her flerken, on the other hand…” Lyv gave an exaggerated scared face, and Zephyr doubled over in laughter while the crowd roared. The flerken must’ve been quite the spectacle in previous games.

Zephyr began talking which quieted the crowd down effectively. “Now, Lyv, onto you: for those of us who might not be familiar, Astralis is a planet where the birth of a new child is a rare occurrence, and that a special few are born with a special bond with a Familiar, an animal companion. Can you share with us about your unique connection with your Familiar?” 

The crowd made quiet “ooos” and “ahhs” as Lyv nodded and opened her palm to reveal Arla, just as she had done for Peter two nights ago. The beetle happily fluttered its wings in Lyv’s palm.

“Zephyr, this is Arla. Arla, this is Zephyr.” The beetle fluttered its wings and landed on top of Zephyr’s head. At that, the crowd began to howl with laughter, hooting and hollering while Zephyr daintility pretended to pat the battle. “I think she likes you,” Lyv warmly said with a grin on her face. After a few seconds of roaring laughter, Arla fluttered back down and landed back in Lyv’s hand.

“So, Lyv, what is it like to have such a profound bond with Arla? How does she influence your abilities and powers?” Zephyr asked as the noise died down, leaning in closer to act more interested in the conversation.

“Having Arla is an incredible gift. We share a telepathic connection, allowing us to communicate without words. She is my constant companion and a source of strength and guidance. Her attributes and powers have influenced my own abilities. She grants me an affinity for nature, heightened senses, and of course, a few other tricks I’d like to keep up my sleeve for the games,” Lyv said, winking dramatically at the crowd. They went wild at that. Peter wondered what other abilities she was hiding, even from Peter. Zephyr allowed the crowd to have the moment before he scooted closer to Lyv on the couch and leaned in closer. He gingerly placed his hand on her knee, and as he spoke, his tone grew gentler and more serious.

“Lyvernae, we understand that you have quite the connection with Arla. How do you feel about the fact that you will share these experiences with Arla?” His tone was quiet, more serious, and the crowd seemed to match Zephyr’s interest, remaining silent. Lyv solemnly nodded, her face falling a bit.

Lyv sighed. “It’s just so frustrating, you know? The Games take something as pure and beautiful as the bond between a person and their Familiar and turn it into this bloody, brutal spectacle. We have shared a connection that is intended to bring joy and strength, but now it’s being trained by this violent competition.” The crowd let out some soft sad noises, and Peter even began to hear sniffling. On the outside, Zephyr looked concerned and nodded with a deep understanding, but Peter wondered how he’d navigate this.

“Do you believe that the Games are devaluing the significance of your bond with Arla? Is there not the potential for a great strengthening and a greater understanding of your bond?” Zephyr asked. He was trying to twist this into something more positive.

“The GameMakers are taking what should be a cherished and personal connection and turning it into a tool for survival. Arla and I were meant to find beauty in our world together, but instead, we’re thrust into this arena and forced to fight for our lives. It’s infuriating how they can just strip away the sanctity of our bond like that,” Lyv said. Her tone was growing less sweet and more feisty. This was the Lyv that Peter knew (for the past two days, at least).  The crowd began to throw out some angry cheers in agreement.

“Would you say that this anger and frustration might motivate you in the Games?” Zephyr asked, ignoring the angry cheers from the crowd.

“Oh, definitely. Every time I see the other tributes, I can’t help but feel this fire burning inside of me. I want to prove that our bond, that our connection, is more than just a means for entertainment. I want to show them that Arla and I really do share something special and beautiful,” Lyv passionately said.

“So, you see your participation in the Games as a form of resistance against the devaluation of your soul tie with Arla?”

“Absolutely. By competing, I’m not just fighting for my own life but for the preservation of what Arla and I share. They may have forced us into this situation, but they can’t take away the strength and love that comes from our bond. I’ll make sure the other tributes remember that.” 

There it was. Zephyr had managed to turn Lyv’s anti-Games rant into something about murdering other kids and participating in these twisted games. Peter clenched his fists and shook his head. He didn’t want his words and intentions to be twisted, too. Her words, while petty and passive-aggressive, only seemed so to people who really knew Lyv like Peter and Ingrid. The crowd would take it as Lyv being eager to fight against any devaluation of her and Arla’s relationship. There were a few closing remarks, and Lyv was escorted off the stage by attendants while the crowd gave some modest cheers and shouts. 

Peter’s vision blurred for a moment, and the roar of the crowd seemed to disappear as the attendant waved Peter forward. He found his body on autopilot and walked forward without thinking, his legs moving of their own accord. Maybe they put mind control things in these cuffs. I don’t want to do this. 

The lights blinded Peter as he walked across stage to Zephyr. He tried to remember what Ingrid and the prep team had told him about movement, but he couldn’t at this point. The crowd was so, so loud… Peter was glad for these cuffs because once again, the cheering of the crowd would be too much. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see some people standing and throwing fists in the air. As he approached the chair, he forgot how to sit down. Zephyr, assisting the anxious teen, gently grabbed Peter’s wrist and helped him to his seat.

The ringing faded from Peter’s ears as he heard Zephyr’s voice begin to speak into the microphone.

“Peter Parker. Or should I say, Spider-Man?”

Zephyr turned from Peter and looked out at the crowd who seemed to roar even louder than they had at Peter’s first appearance, much to his surprise. Peter blinked in shock. He didn’t think he’d be this… loved.

Zephyr waited a whole minute for the crowd to die down before turning back to Peter. “Peter, as the first person from Earth to compete in the Champion Games, you hold a unique position in this competition. How does it feel to represent your home planet in such a formidable challenge?”

Here it was. Peter was hoping that the entire time, Peter could just sit here and Zephyr would talk and the crowd would cheer. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do any work, or that maybe he’d black out and not experience any of this discomfort. Maybe Ingrid implanted a mind control chip in his brain and she’d say what would come out of Peter’s mouth.

None of that was true. Now Peter had to talk.

“Oh, uh, well… it’s, um, kind of surreal, you know? I mean, I never thought I’d be here, competing against super powered beings and all. Those are kind of rare on Earth. But, I’ll do my best, I guess.” Zephyr laughed and laughter similarly rolled through the audience.

“We’ve heard rumors that you possess some incredible abilities of your own, and you’re even the first person from the Twelfth pair to ever score a twelve. Can you shed some light on what makes you so special?” 

The crowd quieted, and the tension in the air was palpable. Everyone wanted to hear about Peter. Even though the Sakaarians were the ones to vote Peter into here, they were still eager to learn more.

“Well, I guess you could say I got bitten by a radioactive spider. I don’t know if space has spiders but they’re these little bugs-“

“Oh, we have spiders, Peter,” Zephyr laughed, and winked at the crowd who cheered and laughed.

“Okay, well, it gave me spider-like powers. I can crawl on walls, have super strength, and some pretty good senses. It’s, uh, definitely a unique set of skills, I guess?” 

“Fascinating, Peter! And how do you think these powers will help you in the arena? Do you have any particular strategies in mind?” 

“Uh, well, my strategy, is to, you know, stay alive?” Peter awkwardly laughed into the microphone and tugged at the collar of his undershirt. He wanted to say, wait for the Avengers to show up and save me, but it seemed as though that was no longer a viable strategy with the time difference and all. The crowd chuckled with Peter. “I’ll try to use my abilities to stay out of trouble, though. Maybe I can outsmart my opponents, distract them with some good jokes, and, uh, find a way to survive.”

“Surviving is indeed the key. Now, Peter, we’ve heard whispers about a secret identity you maintain on Earth. How do you feel knowing that your true identity will be revealed to Earthlings when the Games air there?” 

That question certainly threw Peter off-guard, and it was something he didn’t think about. His mind started to reel — everyone would know he was Spider-Man, his Aunt May would be mobbed, Tony might get in trouble for bringing a minor into the team — but he couldn’t think about that right now. He felt a hand on his shoulder dragging him back into reality, and for once, he felt grateful for Zephyr. 

“Oh, uh, well, yea, that’s a great question,” Peter stammered while he tried to gather his scrambled thoughts into a sentence. “I mean, I’ve always tried to keep it secret to protect the people I care about. Knowing that everyone will know back at home…” Peter visibly shuddering, even though he didn’t mean to, and he began to hear some sympathetic ‘ooos’ from the crowd. “It’s a lot to process. But, um, I hope they understand why I did what I did, and that people at home will still support me. It’s definitely a new pressure,” Peter stammered. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he felt proud for that response, and he knew Ingrid would be, too. 

“Wise words, Mr. Parker. Now, one last question before we wrap up for the night. What message would you like to send to your friends, family, and supporters back on Earth?”

Save me. Get me out of here. Don’t let them do this to me. I never meant for any of this to happen. I don’t want to kill anyone. I’m not strong enough for this. I’m sorry that I allowed myself to get in this situation. I’m so sorry. Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry.

“Well… I guess I’d tell them not to worry too much. I’m, uh going to do my best out there. And, uh, I want them to know that I’m fighting for them, for everyone, and that I never stop thinking about them. So keep rooting for me, guys!” 

Peter’s mouth felt dry. Zephyr took Peter’s arm and stood up with him, then proceeded to wrap his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pull the teen closer into him. “Thank you, Peter. We’ll be eagerly following your journey in the Games. Can we hear it for Spider-Man, the first Twelve to ever earn a twelve and the first Earthling to compete in our beloved games?”

The audience roared and blossomed while Peter wilted and died inside.

The journey back to Lyv and his floor’s was a blur. Peter didn’t remember most of it. Lyv could tell, and they didn’t try to talk to one another. She set his hand on top of his in the backseat of the car, and that was that.

Surprisingly, their floor was strangely empty.

Peter expected to be doted on in high, squealing voices with glasses full of strange and vile liquids thrust in his hand while he was told to pick over a table full of different foods. He thought he’d be forced to rewatch the interviews and cringe through the sound of his own voice, hear his interview be brutally picked apart by his team. He thought what could very well be his lat night alive would be spent in a situation that Peter absolutely abhorred, but it wasn’t going to be.

Just Ingrid sat on the couch in their living quarters, dressed in soft, warm clothes with a glass of deep red liquid in her hand. She smiled weakly at Peter and Lyv as they came in. The surprise must’ve been obvious on their faces, because Ingrid said “I kicked them all out. Figured you two deserved some peace and quiet your last night here. It’s usually the best way to spend it. Go get out of those damned outfits and come back here.”

Lyv and Peter parted from each other’s sides and Peter retreated back into his room. He stripped his clothes off and carefully folded them up, setting them on the top of his bed. He knew they’d mysteriously be gone by the time he got back. Even in the face of death, Peter still felt guilty for wearing such nice and expensive things. He hardly even accepted gifts from Mr. Stark because it felt weird. He wanted to take care of the tuxedo. 

He slipped into an oversized shirt and sweatpants he found folded up in the drawers in the room. For a moment, he considered just taking the pill that was sitting neatly on his nightstand next to a full glass of water and letting the gentle embrace of sleep take him away from the anxiety and stress that consumed his entire being. 

He also knew that the faster he fell asleep, the faster the Games would come. 

Peter trodded back out to the living quarters, where Lyv was sitting next to Ingrid on the couch. Peter perched on the arm of a thick, cozy chair near the girls who were sipping on the same deep red liquid. Ingrid held the bottle and an empty glass out without saying anything.

For the first time in his life, Peter graciously accepted the glass and allowed Ingrid to pour him wine. He wasn’t sure if it would do anything, but he was getting used to letting the bitter taste distract him from real life. 

In a haphazard circle on the furniture, Lyv and Peter shared a glance as Ingrid sighed and leaned back onto the green cushion of the couch. There was a strange atmosphere of familiarity between the three of them. After watching Ingrid’s game, he could understand why she felt so attached to the two of them. It couldn’t have been easy for her to send two kids away to die year after year. 

“Alright kiddos,” Ingrid said, sipping her wine. “We’ve got some serious business ahead. But before you two dive into battle mode, let’s have a little heart-to-heart. Any questions? Need advice?”

Peter fidgeted in his seat. “Yeah. Lay it on us, Ingrid. We could use some Victor wisdom right about now.” 

“Unveil the cosmic mysteries. We’re ready to soak up all the knowledge you’ve got,” Lyv sarcastically added with a playful roll of her eyes. 

“Well, first things first. Remember, no matter what happens out there, you two are in this together. When I went through, I was a loner. I might’ve won, but it wasn’t the easiest path. You could be in there for weeks. Make a friend. Don’t go crazy. Have each other’s backs no matter how crazy things get,” Ingrid ranted, clearly already inebriated. Peter glanced at Lyv. He felt a little bad for her. He couldn’t imagine not talking to anyone for weeks at a time while committing atrocities. 

“Yea, teamwork. Got it. We’re a team, Lyv. Super cool, super chill,” Peter nervously rambled.

“Whatever. Speaking of crazy, any tips on handling Muttations? I’m just nervous they’ll try to use something like Arla against me like they’ve done to people from my planet in the past. I’m not about to become a snack for some monster or something,” Lyv droned on in between drinks of her wine.

Ingrid leaned forward a little bit. “Ah, Little Lyv.” There was an air of sarcasm in Ingrid’s voice now, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Never fear. You’ll dance with those creatures like the fearless warrior you are. Just remember to stay nimble, keep your wits about you, and don’t be afraid to give ‘em a taste of your sass.”

“Sass? Oh, trust me. That’s my speciality. They won’t know what hit ‘em.” With Lyv’s funny remark, the chuckling and conversation died down and the three sipped on their wine. The tension and anxiety in the air was palpable. 

Lyv was the first to speak up. “So, what are all your deepest, darkest secrets?” 

“What?” Ingrid and Peter said in unison. Lyv slyly grinned. 

“We’re about to die, Peter. Let’s let a part of us live on with Ingrid. A secret nobody else knows.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. Ingrid looked just as uncomfortable, but didn’t seem too quick to object. The two girls looked at Peter, much to his dismay. He glanced between the wine and the floor, ears ringing. He was going to be dead tomorrow. Lyv and Ingrid were kind enough. Nobody else would hear this, and if someone did, it would no longer be Peter’s problem.

Peter scratched the back of his head. “I, uh… I may be like, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all, and that’s pretty easy, y’know, just catching bike thieves and help people find where they’re going in Queens, but deep down… deep down, I’m still afraid of failing. I mean, who wants to let down their team, right? Ever since Mr. Stark brought me up to the big leagues… it’s great, but it’s terrifying. I just… I‘ve always known I’m a disappointment, and the fact that I’ll never see them again… that just proves it.”

Peter felt like a giant weight was lifted from his chest. He glanced at Lyv and Ingrid who, surprisingly, weren’t looking at him like a sad little kitten huddled in the rain. They seemed to almost have sympathy glued on their face. 

“Peter, listen up. Failure is just… everyone goes through it. We all stumble, we all fall. What matters is-“ Ingrid sucked in a deep breath-“what matters is how we pick ourselves up and keep moving forward. You’ve got more strength than you give yourself credit for, kid.”

Peter nodded.

“Alright, enough with the deep stuff.” Lyv leaned back and crossed her arms, glass hanging precariously from the edge of her fingers. “Let’s talk secrets. I’ve got one for you. I might act all tough, but deep down, I am terrified. I’m terrified of losing, scared of being forgotten. But enough with that. I won’t let that stop me from giving it my all, I guess.”

“Scared, huh?” Ingrid pressed, raising an eyebrow. “That’s good. Fear keeps you sharp. But don’t let it paralyze you. Use it as fuel.”

Peter watched Ingrid take a few moments to gather her thoughts, her gaze fixated on the black screen hanging on the wall at the front of the room. Her eyes carried a deep sense of sadness. She exhaled deeply, and spoke.

“You two shared your secrets with me, so it’s only fair that I share mine.” She sucked in some air — it was obvious she was uncomfortable. “Before I became your mentor, I came to Sakaar with someone I loved. She — she was my everything. She was all I had left. We… we were quite the couple, you know? Laughed together, loved together, fought together. Even after everything that had happened to us… we were invincible, because we had each other. But, as life does, it threw a curveball and she left this miserable planet just before I was voted into the games. And here I am. Alone, sad, and destined to send kids to their death for the rest of my life.” Ingrid set her glass on the table in front of her and picked up the entire bottle, drinking straight out of it and not even bothering to pour any in her glass. 

The three shared a strangely comfortable silence, the weight of their shared fears and determination hanging in the air. The silence enveloped them as they all absorbed one another’s secrets. The new realizations and deeper insights into each other added a new layer of understanding to their relationships, depending all of their respects from one another. 

“I’m scared,” Lyv whispered, her words even barely discernible.

“Me too,” Peter murmured. “Me too.”