Oh no.
It’d been almost a week. No sign of that car. No sign of trickery, violence-or anything pretending to be real. No Beck.
The knots in his stomach were still around and kicking. Beck was coming back. That’s why he hadn’t been there. He saw what he wanted to see, and now he was going to do something big, and Peter didn’t have a clue what he’d do.
He decided to go into protection. He set up blunt-force weapons beside his door-mostly things he found near a dumpster-that he could use in an emergency, and he may have been sticking around outside of the Morales place-despite thinking it wasn’t for the best for him to be around them with what was to come. While he was trying-and failing-to prepare and figure out what the worst was going to be-or when the attack was coming-Spider-Man did the bare minimum of protecting the city. Spider-Man was trying to save up his energy-and his webbing, for whatever storm waited for him.
Just because Spider-Man was gearing up to fight a master illusionist didn’t mean Benjamin was. Benjamin had to still try and convince Officer Davis, and Miss Morales to protect themselves without trying to make it sound like he knew too much-and unsurprisingly they weren’t too receptive to it. He was almost worried that they were suspicious.
If they were suspicious, they wouldn’t have asked him if he could watch Miles again. He should have said no-obviously he was busy, but Benjamin Parker wasn’t Spider-Man, and therefore he wasn’t busy trying to protect himself-and the city-so he didn’t need to get ready for anything. So Benjamin could watch Miles, and pretend that he wasn’t silently obsessing over the issue at hand. So far he had no real ways to fix the issue at hand. Karen had no idea what to do either. So far she suggested listening to the voicemails-and Peter tried to do so.
He didn’t listen to the voicemails. They were just there to guilt him, and he wasn’t ready for that.
Peter had turned his floorspace into papers of scribbled out plans that he knew wouldn’t work. Well, he knew it wouldn’t work only because he didn’t know anything-there was no upper-hand anymore-he had no hand. No cards to play-just a big old target on his back. He didn’t know what he was using, or how he was using it-was it drones? Was it something else? He wouldn’t know. That was the problem. He was in the dark-and being in the dark against someone who’s in the daylight is a horrible way to be. He was going to lose. If he didn’t figure it out, he was going to lose-and he was stupid, and he was the one who agreed to watch Miles. And he wouldn’t have enough time to get ready because he didn’t think this through right!
He was going to die.
At least he’d get to actually talk to someone before he died. Even if it was a nine year old that he couldn’t confess being Spider-Man to-even though he shouldn’t have gotten involved with regular people after he knows what happens to them-at least he would get to talk to one of them-maybe pretend to be normal before he dies. Well…if he can protect them he will.
It might not be that hard-his Peter-Tingle is working-and it’s not like Beck has any…any real powers-he’s not particularly skilled either-all he has to do is keep his head, and destroy technology. He’s done it all before.
It’s not going to be like before-Beck might not have super-strength, but that makes him a bit more dangerous. He’s going to hurt someone he cares about if he can-or he’ll have enough tech to keep him confused, and terrified, and unable to differentiate reality from illlusions. That’s what Mister Stark being there is. It’s him trying to make him hurt-and make Peter want to trust him, just like he did with Fury. He’s got a way to do it again, and this time Peter might not be lucky enough to get hit by a train.
Peter tried to sort the messy papers in front of him. His head was starting to hurt-and he could really use some rest. Too bad that he didn’t have the time for that. He had time for putting the scribbled writings-and the stupid contigency filled plans, and maybe eating a can of…what did he have? Canned lasagna? Maybe if he has the time he can heat that up and finish it.
He had the time-barely enough-to force it down without getting the chance to chew, and to try and keep his mouth from staining orange.
Miles said he had specifically asked his father to ask him if they could ‘hangout’ when they went back out again. Peter could still tell he would rather hangout with his uncle-the fact that he repeatedly brought up missing him didn’t exactly help his lie either.
Peter tried to cheer him up by helping him with his lego-set he got for Christmas. Peter really would like to be doing something else-but it makes Miles feel better. Even if he keeps trying to ask him how long ‘free lance’ work lasts. Peter’s too busy trying not to think of Ned to really focus on explaining that it depends on the job.
They weren’t distracted with lego’s for long. They tried to play superheroes-for a little while at least-and then they tried a board game or two (Peter kept getting sent back to jail) and they kept finding things that would hold their-well Miles’s attention for a few minutes before he would become bored with it. By the time Peter was making his dinner, he’d become sure that they’d tried to do everything left in the house-even video games couldn’t hold onto his attention for very long.
He could see that becoming a problem.
“Benjamin, we should go outside.” They’d tried that already-Miles had claimed it was too cold to do anything, and walked right back in.
“It’s almost dark. What’re we gonna do in the dark?” Miles deliberated over it.
“Nothing probably. There’s no snow or anything.” Sadly enough, it was just ice out there. Well, unless you counted the grey slush left by the roads.
Peter could think of something to do.
“Miles, are you scared of the dark?”
“Not if I’m in bed.” Well-good enough.
Peter somehow convinced Miles to play hide-and-seek in the dark with him. Problem was that once he got to playing it, Miles did not seem to want to stop. So he just let it go on, round after round after Miles had eaten, trying not to cheat
Okay-Peter cheated a little-it wasn’t his fault Miles was good at hiding. The second round in he somehow got behind his dresser between his bed and dresser, and Peter had been worried that somehow he’d disappeared off the face of the planet.
He hadn’t, but he had to move his dresser out to free him. It wasn’t a fun time.
It was even less of a fun time when he went home. He knew-he knew that he shouldn’t have gone home. He knew it, but his head hurt, and he was tired-and he just wanted to sleep. Instead, he came home-walked in and set his stuff down, just to turn around and see him again.
“I didn’t think you’d be a minimalist.” Peter had stood there-had stood there, and not known what to do in the slightest, because he-he was in his house, and Peter didn’t know whether to bolt-or to start swinging, or if that would help him out at all-how long had he been there? Did he watch him walk over-wa he there when he walked over?! What-
He rose to his feet with a good deal of effort-deciding that the wisest way to ‘continue’ to trick him would be to come towards Peter, where it felt like his feet had become rooted into the floorboards. He tried to spit out something questioning-hoping to slow down his ascent across the room. It didn’t. It didn’t at all.
Beck was good at illusions. Sometimes Peter could forget that he knew Mister Stark. Not when he saw the tricks facial expressions. They were convincing. Heartwrenchingly so. So convincing that he had to dig his nails into his hands to remember that he was there to hurt him, and was promptly coming to do so. That if he didn’t stop letting that knot in his stomach cloud his mind, he was going to die in his apartment.
That didn’t help. His hands still shook, and he was sure that this was the end-despite him being able to stop it. He could stop it. He just couldn’t un-cloud his thoughts enough to think of it.
It’s just an illusion. An Illusion like all the others that’s not real-and can’t touch him. If anything, it’s Beck hiding behind smoke and mirrors. How did he disperse the smoke and mirrors last time?
By punching it square in the chest.
The illusion did not disperse, Beck did not reveal himself. Instead Mister Anthony Stark landed with a thud on his apartment floor. Peter did what anyone faced with this situation would do. When fight did not turn out how ihe thought it should, he turned around, and he bolted out of the door.
Oh shit.