Friendly foresthood Spider-man
The trees, the leaves and the grass kept on chanting, and they sounded very insistent on Peter following the young man. Still, Peter was frozen in panic. The other boy hadn’t looked too happy to see him, maybe he should just leave him alone. Besides, he had to find a way to get back home. He couldn’t leave just like that, May was going to have the scare of a lifetime. Nervously, he started pacing around, threading his hands through his own hair unconsciously and creating a mess he’d have hated if he knew what he'd been doing. At this point, his Spidey-sense was making itself subtly known, and it was adding to his anxiety.
Come on, I don’t even know where I am. He took a deep breath and, to fight off the anxiety, nervously took his phone out of his pocket. When he was like this, his brain would just yeet itself out of existence and wave goodbye at him while falling with a parachute from far, far away. Logic was nowhere to be found, and that made him even more anxious. So he had to bring it back by sheer force. One step at a time. First step: he didn’t know where he was? Look on Google Maps. Next step: how would he get back to New York? That’s a question for the future Peter, since as soon as he found out where he was at that moment he would have enough data to answer it. He checked his notification screen.
No signal.
GREAT.
Okay, that was his cue to panic. He was already digging the ground in circles with his pacing, how was increasing his speed going to make it worse?
What should I do? Like, I should find the way back home, but I wanna make sure that boy’s okay? But what if I get myself deeper into this situation? I already have too much on my plate, thank you very much. But what if he needs help? Oh God…
There was, though, one thing he did know: if he met the boy’s gaze again, he would probably never leave his side. His senses, his soul, his entire entity ached to be close to him, and he wondered if it was linked to the foreboding feeling he had while falling.
He felt a chill run down his spine.
Trying to regain a little bit of control of his situation, he paused his nervous pace. He took a deep breath.
Okay, okay… Oh, God. Okay. So. My Spidey-sense is getting annoying, and that means bad news. Okay, step one: put on the suit, just in case. He opened his eyes when something struck him. Oh, I’m an idiot! Maybe Karen can find a way back or something! A’ight, that’s step one. Step two: ask Karen. He took his suit out of the backpack, knocking about some of his books, his jacket, a charger battery and a couple of forgotten things he'd shoved into it, and started changing clothes, but apparently the universe wanted him to go faster as his sixth sense flared up in the general direction of the place the young man had disappeared into a couple of minutes before. Frowning, he tried to focus his hearing and discern what was happening: he could hear a distant discussion, and although he was too far away to understand what was being said, he could pretty much guess how it was going. Shit. He quickly finished suiting up, took his backpack with him and rushed into the forest, all his previous doubts and fears left behind. He’d ask Karen later.
Soon enough he found the source of the conflict in a clearer part of the woods, and it wasn't looking extremely good. On Peter's left there stood the young man, attempting to make himself look taller than he already was but not quite managing to appear intimidating; on Peter's right, four men, each bigger, bushier and grimmer than the one before, were subtly (or so they tried) smirking and sweet (or so they tried) talking their prey. Peter… could not make any sense of what was being said. It kind of sounded like French, but the iconic "r"s weren't there and everything else too was off. And, more importantly, their clothes were… Old? Not, like, worn off and used, but the style was quite old fashioned: some type of very long linen shirt, very tight pants, pointy leather shoes, a… was that a turban?, parts of leather armour, quivers and various old-school weapons. Clearly not what he was expecting. What. The hell. As Peter observed them, both sides continued their banter, getting more and more aggressive fairly quickly. Shoot, Peter was hoping they would sort it out peacefully and he wouldn't need to barge in, but when did they ever? These were clearly thugs.
The mystery kid was, in all fairness, managing to defend himself well enough. He was visibly distressed, sure, but he wasn't letting those bastards get too much into his skin. He even managed to say something with enough bite that the grizzly bear quartet stuttered and looked exquisitely pissed off. Peter almost barked out loud. The four aces didn't find it just as funny, and started gripping their weapons while asking angrily what Peter would tentatively translate to " What the fuck did you just say?" . The young man nervously stood his ground and replied with another (probably) witty snark. Oh, boy, didn't that piss them off even more. One of them apparently had had enough of this situation and drew a short sword and a dagger; the rest followed suit right after and, to Peter's surprise, instead of attacking their prey, they all banged both of their weapons together, their clungs and clangs resonating through the forest and annoying the hell out of the spiderling. Sometimes he loathed his super senses. He quickly put on his mask to cancel some of the noise and focused back on the scene before him to figure out why the hell they were doing that.
Peter wasn’t expecting to find the boy drowning in his own terror, but there he was. He had started sweating, shaking and hyperventilating, his heartbeat was through the roof and his eyes were moving fast and erratically, like he was trying to find something else that wasn’t quite there. The four thugs creeped closer to him.
“Peter, there is a high chance he is having a panic attack”, Karen’s soothing voice informed inside his mask. “I’d suggest getting him out of this situation and helping him calm down when he’s safe.”
“Yeah, okay, thanks Karen”, he replied in a hushed tone. Although, with the concert the four horsemen of the Nopocallypse were drawing from their make-shift instruments, whispering didn't seem that much needed. He launched himself into the fray. "Well, goodbye to the quiet stroll through the park. Hey, guys."
Funny how, despite looking so different from Peter's usual run off the mill thugs and bullies, they didn't differ much in their reaction to Spider-man's appearance. They had swords and shit, and he was just a tiny little guy in a spandex suit, no weapons whatsoever. One would think they wouldn't be bothered, or maybe annoyed, but nope: they were downright creeped out. He slowly moved to shield the young man ( I'm gonna have to name him somehow, he thought) with his own body, praying that it would somehow help calm him down.
"So, I'm lost and I would really like to go back to New York, can you guys give me some directions? These trees all look the same to me."
The four Einsteins might have thought it was a good idea to try to shoo him away like they would an animal, for some reason, but with the clear fear in their eyes it didn't have much effect. Maybe it was the mask. Or perhaps the eyes. Definitely the eyes.
Peter tried his best to channel his inner Tibetan fox spirit and let them know with his body language he was not impressed.
"Are all the folks around here just as welcoming as you? And here I thought for a second this could be a nice holiday destination…"
At this point, Peter was kind of on autopilot, looking for a safe way out yet observing his enemies in case there was no option but to fight. The most obvious threat was their weapons: the swords could be a hindrance to them if he managed to lure them deeper into the forest, that was an option, but there were still daggers to take into account. Peter could still hear the young man ( Should I name him Mark? ) Mark’s heartbeat, beating fast as a fleeing bird. Peter turned around to face and soothe him with some hushed words, but it only proved to make it worse. Mark took a step back, a terrified expression painted on his face. On the other side, the grimy quartet was once again ready to charge, swords in hand.
He had to get Mark out of there, fast. Fighting them didn’t seem like a wise option: their range was wider than his, he wasn’t used to this environment, they could distract him in order to get to Mark. Too many disadvantages. But they didn’t seem to recognize him. At least he had the surprise factor on his side.
Peter looked around, trying to find some way to lower their advantages. An idea came to his mind.
“Got it, you don’t like tourists. Your loss.” He faced Mark once again and slowly approached him with a placating gesture. “Hey, I’m here to help. It's okay”. Mark wasn’t having it, though, and took a couple of nervous steps back. His breathing had become shorter and quicker. The brutes started their assault, yelling like madmen. Time to get into action.
Peter jumped in Mark’s direction while shooting a web into a thick tree. As soon as he got a hold of the other man’s frame, he launched both of them into the air. He heard the Unremarkable Four gasp in surprise, and he smirked as the air whistled in his ear. The pair started running into the thicker part of the forest, Peter keeping his hold on Mark, and the thugs followed them after sheathing their swords. They wouldn’t be able to maneuver such long weapons there, the place was crammed with logs and trees. Step one of the plan: success. Now, he had to come up with step two.
“Hey, guys, do you think this guy has a “Mark” kinda face? I’m not sure it fits him, to be honest!”, he shouted at full lung capacity. He knew they were not going to answer, but it was Peter’s coping mechanism and he wasn’t going to change it at that moment.
What he didn’t take into account was Mark’s reaction to the whole situation. He probably still was in the middle of a panic attack and the added surprises were not welcomed. He tried to get rid of the strange... stranger while he kept running away from the mobsters, the branches of the trees cutting into the skin of his hands and rasping his clothes. Try as he may, the figure in red and blue had an iron grip and wasn’t yielding despite his best efforts. He felt trapped.
“Hey, wait, don’t worry, it’s okay!” Peter tried to calm him down, but Mark ( maybe he’s a Mortimer? ) didn’t look like he understood what he was saying. “I’m trying to help!” Luckily, they were a little bit faster than the screaming gorillas. They weren’t getting them any time soon.
“I’m not sure about Mark”, he shouted back at them. Again. “I’m considering that maybe his name could be Mortimer! No, maybe it’s Percival! What do you think?”
Peter should have known better. Parker luck struck again, and so did an arrow into a nearby tree. The feathers in its rear grazed Mark’s arm, and he only got away from its path thanks to Peter’s Spidey sense and automatic response. He had to come up with a plan, asap. He held Mark tighter and, instead of just running, he jumped ahead over and over again. His trajectory was an erratic one in an attempt to discourage the brutes from sending another arrow their way.
He heard Mark muttering something hastily. Then, he felt his trembling fingers dig into his arm, and a slightly unpleasant energy ran through his muscles there. They looked at each other in confusion. The grizzly foursome leveraged the distraction and shot again. Peter pushed Mark back and the arrow darted between them. The young man’s face was almost comically shocked.
Fuck it, Peter thought. I have to calm him down or we’re not gonna make it in one piece . He grabbed him, once again, and launched the two of them into the air, climbing the trees and resurfacing over their top.
For a moment, peace found its way to the two young men, and they stayed over the emerald sea around them catching their breath while the thugs yelled below them. The young man was trembling still, his stomach contracted in a knot and a sharp pain blossoming in his chest. The terror he had been feeling this whole time grew until it swallowed his entire soul, choking him with a brutal force. Peter sensed his panic, and quickly pulled his mask off. He made the other boy look at him and attempted to make the most amicable expression he’d ever done. Whispering calming words he now assumed the young man before him couldn’t understand, he held his hand upwards between them as a peace offering; if he wanted space, he had the chance to reject it, but if he needed physical contact, Peter was willing to help. The boy’s eyes, now alight with recognition, searched for something in Peter’s. His face was contorted in a complex expression. After a beat, he reached out for the offering hand. He took a deep breath, his eyes closed. At that moment, Peter knew he had been right after he had met him at the pond.
He didn’t want to leave this boy’s side.
Around them, the leaves vibrated and sung with renovated energy.
He was so entranced watching him controlling his own breath, his eyelashes fluttering every time he opened his eyes, that he almost fell off the tree when the brutes started cutting it down. Mark looked at him, noticeably calmer than before but still anxious. Then he looked behind Peter, and his face glowed with surprise and hope. He frantically pointed in that direction while saying some ininteligible words, taking Peter’s arm and urging him to get going.
Of course, the four idiots had to make it difficult for them to reach their destination, whatever that was, and as soon as the boys fled their resting place they unsheathed their weapons once again. They hastily followed their trail, and when they were sure they were in range they started clanging their swords and other metal objects, creating a disconcerting concert.
Peter audibly groaned. “Not again. I’m so done”. He felt Mark flinch and tense by his side. He looked down and yep, there they were, annoying the hell out of him. He blasted some web at one of their weapons and yeeted it in a random direction. They gasped and froze for a second. Mark got a moment to put himself together, but too soon they continued directing their hellish concert. Peter stopped and tried to signal that he should stay there for a moment. The other boy looked terrified.
In typical Spider-man fashion, he shot a web to a nearby tree and swung. He kicked a stunned thug right in the chest, leaving him out of breath and flying back a couple of trees. The rest of the group glared at him in disbelief and terror as he gracefully landed. “Okay, you’re not helping me much with his name”. He stood up, managing to look menacing despite his lithe build. “This is painful to admit, but… maybe you don’t like me”.
Up ahead, at the top of the trees, the boy observed in awe as the stranger managed to avoid most of their attacks, bouncing from trunk to trunk with impossible flexibility and haste. His attackers were shouting half-boiled insults at him, trying to scare him off, but to no avail. What was he? After a minute of this entrancing yet otherworldly dance, most of their attackers were left with no weapons, yet the boy was clearly having difficulty moving through the forest. The young man frowned, sweating and trembling. He looked once again in the direction they had been moving towards and, taking a deep breath, he shouted at the merry party below him, gathering their attention. He then touched the branch of the tree he was standing at, and the branch grew wider and reached further into the forest. He followed it as if a demon was chasing after him.
Down at ground level, the eyes in Peter’s mask widened to their maximum capacity. That. Was. So cool. Is he a mutant? Or maybe he’s half man, half tree? Half ent?? He saw the Idiotic Four sprint, not understanding that it was probably a trap. Peter sighed. They were dumb, but he wasn’t going to complain. He reached the top of the trees and met Mark, who was still doing that cool thing that made the branches and trunks go wherever he wanted. That was pretty useful.
Suddenly, there were no more branches they could use: they had reached a pond, not very wide but enough that he couldn’t reach the other side of the forest with ease. The taller boy seemed to be indicating they had to go back to ground level, so Peter held him and just jumped. He heard the other’s heartbeat spike, and his arms tensed around Peter’s body in fear. The herd of brutes was almost there, but now Peter could fight them slightly better. He used his own body as a shield for the other boy. The thugs appeared soon enough. He jumped and kicked one of them in the face. While fencing off the second idiot, a third one approached him. His Spidey sense warned him and he ducked down, just in time to avoid a sweaty punch to the head. The fourth and second brutes attacked at the same time. He blocked one of them, but the other took a funny smelling dagger and grazed his shoulder. His Spidey sense went momentarily haywire. He stumbled back but recovered immediately, trying to analyze the situation and draw a plan out of it. He had to protect the boy, no matter how. The rising humidity of the place was distracting him. Maybe he could use the pond to his advantage…
Apparently, he was late in coming up with that idea. Before he could even understand what was going on, a brutal stream of water from behind him swept the henchmen from their feet with supernatural force, threw them into the air like clumsy, noisy leaves and gathered them again to drive them far into the woods.
What. The hell. Was that.
Peter stood there, looking into the depths of the forest where the thugs had disappeared, breathing heavily. How had that happened? Stunned, with his eyes wide and his mouth half opened, he turned around to see if his new friend (maybe?) was alright, he found the answer to some of his questions.
There, by the shore, the young man was on his knees; one hand touching the surface of the pond, the other elegantly pointing to the forest. A thin stream of water surrounded him like a protective ghost. He was having difficulties trying to breathe regularly, and his face was contorted in a pained expression, but his body started to relax after a beat.
The danger was gone. The pond rested, its chill waters calm once again.