Angry
Chapter 4- Angry
Peter awkwardly sat down on a leather couch that seemed more expensive than everything he owned (which, granted, wasn’t much, but still). Pepper had invited him and May to stay for dinner. She explained that she and some of the avengers would be doing a press conference that afternoon, and everyone was gonna be there.
So, that’s how Peter ended up sitting on a couch in Tony’s living room in Stark tower.
In front of him was a massive TV, on which he was watching Pepper Potts (well, Stark), Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff walk into a conference room. They sat down at a table, with reporters lights flashing on their faces.
Pepper cleared her throat, and the room instantly quieted. “Before we begin taking questions, I would like to make a statement on how the country shall progress with recent events. The president has released a report stating that the government will be shut down for a month, along with schools. After consulting with me, the country shall soon put in place new policies to help us ease back into having doubled our population. She has told me to also inform you that there will be clinics set up where people can go to sort out the aftermath of everybody coming back.
“This is an official government statement, but the president personally asked me to relay this message as well. Schools and the government will re-start in exactly one month from now. This, however, is a very brief description of how America, along with several other countries, shall move forward. More information can be found on every government website. With that, please begin with the questions.”
Peter didn’t know how to feel about the government closing. He figured though that a month wasn’t really that long. Considering around four billion people suddenly popped back into existence, he thought it would probably take a lot longer than that to sort everything out.
It also meant that he would be going back to school in a month. He might see Ned and MJ again.
Or he might not.
That thought was terrifying.
His attention returned to the screen in front of him, and he watched as Pepper was bombarded with questions.
“Ms. Potts, where is Iron Man?”
“Ms. Potts, how has everyone returned?”
“Ms. Potts, how will the avengers answer to all the damage caused?”
Natasha cleared her throat, and the reporters turned their attention to her.
“To answer a few of your questions, the avengers were able to acquire the infinity stones and reverse the event of five years ago. This, as we know, has led to grave consequences. As of how the avengers will take responsibility for any damage, Mrs. Potts and I are currently working with the government to fund several programs for relief, as well as donating to reconstruction efforts.
“As for Iron Man, he was injured and is... currently healing.”
The reporters didn’t seem to notice the pause in Natasha’s sentence, already firing questions. But Peter noticed. And he wished he didn’t. Because it was just a fresh reminder of Tony. A reminder of how close he was to being dead. A reminder that Peter might never get to see him again.
Peter suddenly felt a wave of nausea but fought it back.
He was vividly aware of all the other heroes in the room with him. Bucky, Black Panther, Dr. Strange, Scarlet Witch, Thor, Dr. Banner, Hawkeye, Captain Marvel (whom he had never heard of before the battle), and War Machine.
Well, those were all the ones he could name on the spot.
Apparently, though, everyone was in town. May whispered something to him about having to stick around for the aftermath, Sokovia accords, something something.
That was another thing he missed during the five years: The Sokovia accords got re-written. Apparently, Captain America was no longer a fugitive. Peter couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.
Briefly, Peter’s mind wandered over to the infamous Steve Rogers. He was still in the med bay, but he was awake. His injuries weren’t too bad.
Peter used to love Captain America. Not as much as Iron Man, of course, but he still looked up to him. He saw him as a hero.
But that all changed when he fought him in Germany. After that, Peter lost almost all respect he had for the hero. Once he saw how ruthless he was, how hell-bent Steve was on leaving with Bucky and breaking the law, he was shocked.
Before he saw Captain America as a moral compass, willing to lay down his life for the country, go up against any bully. But then, Steve dropped a two-ton shipping container on him.
Steve didn’t know that Peter could hold it.
Steve meant to crush him.
And then if that wasn’t enough, it somehow got worse. Tony came back from Siberia. He was quiet. He was bloody.
He refused to even tell Peter what happened until months later, after the Vulture.
After the Vulture was when Peter grew really close to Tony. He started going to meet with tony more often, getting upgrades for his suit and working in the lab. After some time, his cover of having an internship was no longer a cover.
He interned with Tony, staying at the compound every other weekend.
He remembered how tony taught him how to fix a car.
He remembered how Tony showed him how to code AI.
He remembered how Tony laughed when Peter accidentally squirted motor oil in his eye.
He remembered Tony.
Tony.
He felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes.
Peter cursed himself internally. No matter what he did, his thoughts always managed to stray back to Tony.
He stood up and muttered something about the bathroom.
He knew it was the second time he had done something like this, but nobody seemed to notice. They were all either watching the press conference or quietly talking between themselves.
Peter quietly made his way to a bathroom, keeping a calm facade.
He entered the bathroom, locked the door, and had his second panic attack that week.
---
Peter sat on the edge of the roof. He was in his suit, his first time going on patrol in five years.
When people saw him, they would gasp and point, sometimes asking for pictures. Apparently, his disappearance hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was heartwarming, seeing that some people actually missed him.
He had Karen keep a lookout for petty crimes, trying to get back into the swing of spider-manning in queens.
While he was waiting for something to pop up, he looked out at the view from the rooftop. It was nighttime, but there were still plenty of people bustling around. He watched as people went about their lives. The city was still chaotic, and all around him, Peter could see the effects of Thanos. There were far too many people on the streets with trash bags, not having a home to go to.
There were far too many people finding out their wives or husbands had moved on, gotten re-married, having children.
There were far too many people who didn’t get their loved ones back, because right after they were brought back, they got hit by a car, or re-appeared thousands of miles in the air.
But among all the grief, he also saw hope. He saw old married couples getting to know each other again. He saw an older brother who got to hug his little sister for the first time in five years. He saw old friends finally reuniting, sobbing into each other’s shoulders.
Still, though, no matter what Peter was looking at, he saw Thanos. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for Thanos. All the loss, destruction, chaos, was because of Thanos.
He felt a fire light in his chest. He was angry. Furious. All of a sudden, it was like he could feel the sadness of every person in the world. Thanos dared to think he was doing something right. Something good.
The only thing Thanos did was kill. He ripped apart trillions upon trillions of beings, not caring for a single one of the lives he took. And no matter how much Peter hated him, he couldn’t do anything.
Because Thanos was dead.
Peter got angrier and angrier. He was trapped.
He wanted to hurt Thanos. He needed to hurt Thanos.
By this point, he was pacing. He needed to do something. Needed to get his anger out.
He needed to punch something.
At that moment, Karen piped up in his ear.
“Peter, there is currently someone getting mugged two blocks down.”
And with that, Peter was off. Karen lit up his path and made it there in a minute. He came up to the alleyway and saw 2 brandishing knives at a woman, who was quickly emptying her purse.
Peter felt his anger grow even more. Without even thinking, he jumped into the situation, webbing both of the knives.
As soon as the muggers were distracted, the woman ran. Perfect. No distractions.
Peter should have known better than to jump into a fight while he was that angry. But he didn’t care. Usually, he would have quickly incapacitated the men, webbing them to a wall and calling the cops.
He really should have known better.
Before he even registered what he was doing, he was throwing punches. The men tried to hit back, but couldn’t land a single blow. Peter was too fast.
He hit one of the guys in the head. He crumpled.
He didn’t think.
He didn’t fucking think.
He just turned to the other guy. He punched him in the jaw, and the guy kneeled over. Peter kneed him in the stomach, and the guy stumbled back. But Peter kept going.
His anger fueled him, not letting him pause to think for a single moment. He was blinded by his rage.
He punched the guy once. Then again. And again. And again.
He kept on punching until the guy was on the floor.
He went to kicking, not stopping until the guy was barely moving.
Only then had Peter realized what he had done.
Oh god.
What had he done?
No.
No.
No, no, no.
Nonononononono this can’t be happening.
This can’t be fucking happening.
Peter could barely think, barely breathe. How could he have done this?
He went to the guy he hit in the head. The guy’s pulse was so weak Peter almost didn’t find it. He was mumbling incoherently, hardly conscious.
He went to the other guy. His condition was as bad as the first guy’s. His face was swollen and had cuts all over it.
Peter almost killed them.
Immediately, Peter threw up.
He sat in the corner of the alleyway for almost 30 minutes. He could barely think, and he had to figure out what to do. If he didn’t get them help, they would die. But if he did, everyone would think he was a monster.
Well, it wouldn’t be that far from the truth. He was a monster.
After those 30 minutes of just sitting there, Peter got up. He asked Karen to call the cops and pretended to be a regular teenager who just happened to see them. He didn’t say anything about spider-man.
The phone operator told him to stay where he was, but he hung up and left. He was panicking and didn’t know what to do.
There were spatters of blood on his suit. Once again, Peter got the urge to throw up but forced it down, determined to get far away from those men.
---
When he finally stopped swinging, another 10 minutes had passed. He collapsed on top of a rooftop. He ran to the edge and pulled off his mask.
He had already thrown up what little remnants of food that were in his stomach, so gagged, tasting bile in his throat.
His thought finally calmed down enough for him to think in full sentences. Even though he hated himself for it, he first thought of what was gonna happen to him. If those men told the police what happened, Spider-man was over. Peter felt panicked but realized that the only reason he had even beat them up was that they were robbing someone.
He hoped beyond hope that they didn’t say anything.
And he hated himself for it.
With every second that passed, it got worse. Peter had almost killed those men. He was violent. He was angry. Those men should tell the police about him.
He didn’t deserve to be spider-man. He beat up those men. He wasn’t a hero.
And even through all of that, he was still angry.
He was so angry, but not at Thanos. He thought he was angry at Thanos, and that might’ve been true to some extent.
But really, he was angry at himself. He felt angry about everything. He was angry about what he did to those men. He was angry that Tony was still in a coma, and there was nothing he could do to help. He was angry about his panic attacks. He was angry that he couldn’t reconnect with May.
And most of all, he was angry about Thanos, but not in the way that he was before. He was angry at himself for not being able to stop him.
Peter had tried to fight Thanos. But all he did was get in the way. He didn’t try hard enough. If he was just a better fighter, if he could have just gotten the gauntlet off of Thanos, none of this would have happened. Peter was weak, pathetic.
God, he hated himself so fucking much.
He checked the time, and it read just past 2 am.
He couldn’t go back “home.” Not yet. He couldn’t deal with that yet. He couldn’t deal with tossing and turning on that couch, not being able to sleep because memories of the soul world kept popping into his head. He had to stay out, stay distracted so that his thoughts didn’t drift back to what he did.
So he went back out crime-fighting.
Although he was beyond terrified that he might hurt someone again, he couldn’t face the alternative.
For the next few others, everything was relatively peaceful. He walked a couple of women home and hailed a drunk guy a cab. It was fine. Then Karen gave him an alert for another mugging. Peter hesitated. He shouldn’t go. He couldn’t risk hurting someone again. But then he pictured the victim, their trembling hands giving the attacker their phone, their wallet.
He couldn’t turn his back on that person just because he was scared. He would just have to control himself.
He arrived at the scene. It was just one attacker this time, a burly guy backing a 20-something woman into the corner of the alleyway. Like before, he swung in, and the woman ran off as soon as the attacker was distracted.
It was just Peter and the man now.
Breathe.
The man charged forward, swinging a fist at Peter.
Peter focused, dodging the punch and swinging back, making sure not to hit too hard.
Peter realized he might have hit too lightly because the guy just smirked at him.
He suddenly felt very unsettled. The man was looking at Peter with a weird, almost smug expression. It was like the man was looking right through Peter, into his soul. Like he could see how scared Peter was.
Peter didn’t really register what happened next. The man raised his hand and snapped.
---
Peter was swinging. Surrounded by explosions. In the distance, he could see Thanos. In his comms, he could hear the heroes around him, shouting at each other. He had the gauntlet in his arms.
The next moment he was on the floor, Thanos’ ships raining fire around him.
There was iron man, battling Thanos.
Thanos snapped, and Peter held his breath.
Then Tony raised his hand, a multicolored glow illuminating his face.
He snapped.
---
Peter gasped, the memories flooding through his brain. The man just kept on smiling, but Peter didn’t acknowledge him. He couldn’t. He felt flooded with panic. It was like he was back on the battlefield. Every movement he made was the difference between life and death.
He had to run.
He had to fight.
Peter could still hear the explosions resonating in his ears, but he fought through the haze. He tried to stand up, raising his fists against the man. But before he could throw a punch, the man knocked him to the side. Peter saw the glint of the blade the moment before the man stabbed it into his leg.
Still in his panicked state, the pain didn’t immediately register. But as soon as it did, Peter felt like screaming.
The man leaned down to Peters’ ear. “You’re just like every other hero. Scared, weak. Your triggers are too obvious.”
Peter didn’t understand what he said. He was too focused on trying to breathe. The man flashed him a grin and walked away, all too calm.
Peter stayed on the floor of the alleyway, gasping for breath, trying to get the ringing out of his ears. He calmed down and thought back to the encounter. The man had just snapped, and was able to completely incapacitate him.
He tried to get up and immediately collapsed, forgetting about the knife in his leg. He knew better than to pull it out, knowing that it was the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. He hobbled up, gripping the wall.
“Peter, it appears that you have been injured. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?”
He sucked in a breath. Mr. Stark.
Peter mumbled a no to Karen. He shot a web and tried to pull himself up. It was agony.
But Peter had to get home.
What would have usually taken him ten minutes took him 40, and by the time he got home, it was almost dawn. Luckily for Peter, May wasn’t home. Pepper had a mild breakdown after the press conference, and so May stayed over.
She trusted Peter to stay at home, which he was immensely grateful for at the moment.
He stumbled into the apartment and hobbled straight to the bathroom. He reached under the counter and grabbed the first aid kit.
Pulling the knife out of his leg felt like fire, but after that, it was smooth sailing. Peter was well accustomed to stitching himself up.
While he cleaned up, he was thinking. There was so much to think about after that night. And that man… who was he? And why did that snap affect him so much?
Peter had a gut feeling he already knew the answer, but he didn’t feel like acknowledging it. He went into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. He pictured the battlefield. He remembered the constant terror he had felt.
He remembered before that, his body getting ripped to shreds by Thanos.
He remembered watching Tony get stabbed.
And just like that, he felt panic grip him.
No.
He wasn’t that weak, he couldn’t be. It wasn’t even that bad. Peter couldn’t fathom why the battle was doing this to his mind. Why he was freaking out so much.
He dug his hands into his legs.
The flare of pain was immediate as Peter’s fingers buried into his stab wound. He flinched his hands away, but the pain continued to course through him. As he focused on it, he realized something. That jab of pain had brought him back. He wasn’t panicking as much anymore.
The pain took away the panic.
Peter stayed on the couch, and every time he felt his thoughts stray too far, or when he felt panicked, he shoved his fingers into the wound. And it worked. It took away everything.
It worked so well.
Too well.