To bask in my tiny bit of the light {to warm, the cold that I feel inside}
August1st, 2016
1:13AM
Peter shivered in his hoodie, the cold wind biting through and into his bones. His binder, loosened a little bit, still dug into his ribs as he breathed in and out. His gloves were clenched into fists, desperately trying to get his blood running. His legs were bent at the knee, tense and poised. His red sneaker-clad foot took one step, then another, fast and faster until he was running, feet slapping against the concrete until there was nothing under him but streetlights and busy streets and he leaps-
Thwip.
The webbing shoots out of his wrists, the web-shooters being activated. Peter swings past buildings, the wind rushing through his head. He listens to the sounds of the city as he swings, the movements coming to him automatically. It’s quiet tonight, Queens being abnormally still for once, Brooklyn being pretty calm, and Manhattan being, well. Manhattan.
He hates being in Manhattan, but his school is there so it makes sense to at least patrol some of it.
Especially since Daredevil hasn’t been seen in months.
He was last seen late last year, before reappearing for a day back in February and then vanishing again.
Everyone says the Devil’s dead.
Peter really hopes he’s not.
Because it kind of feels like New York is falling apart without him. Even though Daredevil never set foot outside of Manhattan or the Bronx, even Queens and Brooklyn knew to fear the man in red.
And now, with the Devil supposedly dead, criminals are taking delight in the absence.
Take this one for example. A mugger who decided that yes, a 17-year-old girl was perfectly acceptable to rob in Midtown Manhattan.
Jerk.
Peter webs him up on the wall and tells the girl to call the police, offering to walk her home. Shaken-up, she declines, but thanks Peter for helping her. Peter just nods and leaps out of the alley.
Yeah.
He’s a vigilante now.
Spider-Man.
He’s not a very well-known one. He only got the name because J.J Jameson called him a freak of nature when he stopped that bus from crashing and pictures emerged of him sitting on walls.
He totally sold them. It was the best money he’d ever gotten. $350 for a few selfies.
He patrols Queens and Brooklyn, and when he can, the west side of Manhattan. Webs up criminals in his makeshift suit, which consists of a red hoodie with blue patches and a spider sewed messily on it, blue leggings, red sneakers, black gloves, web shooters, and a ski-mask with a black goggles stitched on it.
He knows that he looks weird, but Daredevil used to wear black pajamas so he feels like he’s in good company.
Peter is the only one who knows about his secret double life. May doesn’t know. Nobody knows except for him. He’s not sure how to approach that either. Hey, May. Remember when I went on that field trip to Oscorp? Well, a spider bit me and now I can lift cars and walk on walls. And guess what? That new vigilante? The one who stopped that man in a rhino exoskeleton from destroying most of Manhattan? That’s me, your almost thirteen year-old nephew with PTSD and depression. Anyway, what’s for dinner?
That had been in early June. Some disgruntled Russian Mafia thug had gotten ahold of an experimental armour and decided to attack the Avengers Tower. Which was stupid, considering the Avengers had all moved upstate. Well, what was left of them, anyway. And Peter knew that the Avengers weren’t going to stop him, so he ditched the library and suited up.
He hadn’t known he was that strong.
Like, holy shit. He just grabbed the horn of that dude and flipped him like it was nothing. It was terrifying. Then he just webbed him and left him for the police.
It took seven minutes, max. However, the media was in an uproar for a few days about this mysterious vigilante who took down the Rhino, as they were calling it. Thank god for empty streets and that really nice blonde lady who promised to delete the footage she took of him. Peter seriously doubted that she did, but it never showed up in the news, so….
There was some suspicion that Spider-Man, a figure in red dubbed by J.J Jameson and generally considered as a 50/50 chance that he actually existed, was the one to stop him, but the credit went to the Iron Legion and the NYPD. Nobody really believed that, but since Spider-Man had not been confirmed to exist, it was the only explanation.
Whatever. He needed to track down those weapons-dealers who gave Rhino, AKA Aleksei Sytesvich, the suit.
At least he didn’t have school tomorrow.
❁
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why do weapons have to hurt?
He breathed in shallowly, the ringing in his head like a bell gong. His vision is shaking, doubles of objects in his eyes. His body aches, feeling like a giant bruise. His lungs rattle in his chest, his binder a band of steel around his ribs.
Fuuuuck.
He coughs, and rolls to his feet, dragging the man who he took the shot from the weapon from behind him. The man is also coughing, hands over his ears, but he seems more alert than Peter. Sirens alert him that the police are coming, which is bad because the police hate his guts. The car is long gone, along with the weapons inside it and the men dealing them.
Shit. Well, that’s bad.
He points a finger at the man who was trying to buy one. He’s dark-skinned, with a chain necklace and a white t-shirt. The man stares at Peter with wide eyes and Pete manages to cough out a few words. “Don’t do crime.”
The man’s face morphs into one of confusion, but Peter ignores it as he takes an unsteady step, raising his wrist and aiming it-
And immediately face-planting into the ground.
What had that weapon done to him?
The man slowly approaches him. “Uh. You gonna be okay?”
Peter mumbles something unintelligible, and the man says something, but Peter is quickly swept in a wave of unconsciousness, blacking out to the world.
◔
Awake?
What?
Awake?
What-what are you?
Awake.
What-what’s going on? Why can I hear you? Where am I?
Remember?
Who are you?! Why the fuck am I-? Where am I?
Memories missing.
What?
Sleep. We will heal faster.
We? What? What’s going on? Are-are you in my head? Answer me!
Sleep. We will talk later.