Confessions
The days leading were bland.
No new ideas emerged from the urgency of the situation. They were stuck in a never ending cycle of blankness. Nobody knew how to save the universe from eternal doom.
Beck had left the base momentarily to grab some food when things took a turn. The last of the remaining small group were on their last straws when Fury’s and Hill’s buzzers went off. They rushed to the computers, pulling up footage that knocked Peter out of his socks.
“Hydron is back at it again! This time it seems the water creature is attacking Ve-oH MY GOD! RUN!” The reporter ran as the live camera was wiped away by a giant fist of water, washing away the camera cutting the feed.
Peter felt his blood run cold, his body froze as he watched the dozens of reports play on the screen. His legs felt glued to the ground as he watched helplessly.
“Go!” Hill ordered, throwing him a large case.
The kid barely managed to catch the case, his eyes full of hesitation as he looked down at it. He opened it to reveal a new suit hidden underneath. This one replaced the bright suit he once wore with a darker spy scheme. It looked cool yet somewhat ridiculous. He ran his finger down the threads, his mind racing with doubt.
Spider-Man hurt people.
Peter breath hitch as his finger slid over the spider emblem on the chest. A part of him wanted to run away like any other coward. God he just wanted his legs to move as far away as possible. However he couldn’t. He couldn’t run. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t let the innocent suffer for his mistakes.
“It’s my job to save the world even if I’m afraid. Sacrifices have to be made, kid. Hero’s have to make them for the greater good.”
This was his sacrifice to the world. Giving up the parts that make him human to protect others. Peter wished he didn’t have the sense of responsibility that was burned into him. He wished he could be like most other people and walk away without the guilt of being selfish. He wished the sacrifice wasn’t his to make. However the world seemed to love making him suffer. No matter how much he wished, he always had his responsibility and selfishness. Because of that, he could never walk away.
He could only walk towards it. Like his Uncle all those years ago.
“What are you waiting for?! Go!” Fury ordered.
Peter looked back up at the two agents who were on computers, both of their eyes hardened by the serious tone. He took a deep breath and clutching the fabric tightly in between his sensitive fingers. His eyes setting, telling the people around him he made his choice.
People were screaming, children clinging to their mothers, cars screeching. Nothing was more evident though as the giant water man spouting out of the river.
Spider-Man had landed on a building nearby, fully suited and watched the water sprayed. His arms felt like weights in the new suit, the fabric felt like sandpaper against his skin. It felt wrong to wear this suit. It wasn’t anything like Stark’s, it felt so cold and empty. He was walking through cement as he walked closer to the danger ahead. His mind was an unstoppable race car zooming through the streets.
“Is that a bird?!”
“No it’s an airplane!”
“No, it’s a person!”
Peter could feel people's eyes land on him. He didn’t dare to move. He didn't even dare to breath. He was just frozen. His heart pounding in my chest...duh-duhn, duh-duhn. The hairs on his arms stand to attention, as a militia of chills march down his spine.
Do something Peter! Do something!
It felt like a movie, the world slows down, everything begins to clear up, dozens of people were wiped away, pulling him back to reality as he jumped. He spouted webs, chasing after the dozens of people, one by one, helping them to safety. He felt his adrenaline pour as he caught person after person. It went by so fast that it felt like a blink of an eye.
Once he insures civilians were a safe distance, he landed on another roof and turned to the ginormous puddle of water. He froze when the monster turned towards him, eyeing him down.
In a moment of quick thinking, he tried to jump up and land a punch across the water monsters face. If he could wash away dozens of people, the teen figured the bad guy probably had some sort of material form. However, to his dismay, he went straight threw the man. He rolled onto the roof, now soaking wet with a very angry giant water man glaring at him. Peter whipped his head around, glaring right back up at him, his intense gaze shaking. He felt a familiar boiling under his skin. It started off as a simmer before rising to a boil. A strange flood of emotions now began to overwhelm him.
“Y-You freak!”
“I’ll show you what a real bad guy looks like.”
Peter’s eyes flickered a fiery red, his body rising again to attack. In the moment, his footsteps were longer and stride as he broke into a sprint towards Hydron, his body in a spurt of power. His skull buzzed but it was far too late since the kid jumped off the roof to attack. In midair, he was smacked with tons of water, nearly wiping him away if it weren’t for the bridge walls catching him.
Peter’s eyes snapped back to normal as he caught himself.
“Stop.”
Suddenly Peter’s arms were strapped to his side by an invisible force, forcing his whole body to go still. He couldn’t move anything, not even a single toe. He was just frozen once again after the involuntary spasm he went through. The teen’s face screwed into confusion and fear at the loud threatening voice. His eyes scanning the area around him trying to locate where it came from.
“What?”
“Watch.”
Peter looked up at water man, feeling his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t see anything but a bad guy destroying Venice. He shook his mind, not able to see what the voice was talking about it. However he didn’t get to dwell on it for long. A cloud of green fog suddenly knocked the water man back. In the green fog was none other then Beck. He attacked the creature, using his powers to hurt Hydron.
“Trust nothing, my child. Reality is nothing but an illusion.”
He watched as the older hero cornered the monster, forcing him to back down. Peter watched in awe, his eyes trailing the green fog that Beck road so heroically. Eventually Hydron retreated back into the water leaving the people alone for now.
The presence of the voice was now gone, no longer wrapped around him like a tight python. It freed him, releasing him from its foriegn touch. It was a phenomenon he couldn’t explain.
The crowd of people cheered for Beck, clapping and shouting praises for the hero. The sound of cameras clicking away brought him back from the daze he sat in.
Well that fight went awful.
Peter was completely useless and saved by a man with a fishbowl helmet. Not that he had anything against Beck. He just should’ve fought better, harder. It made him want to hit himself. Beck landed on the group appearing exhausted, his gaze briefly meeting the teens before the cameras.
Unable to stop himself from tearing up, he webbed off, no longer able to stand being there.
“Whatever happened out there was horrible! My grandma would have fought better than you and she’s dead!” Fury exclaimed, glaring down the teen.
Peter just sat on the box, soaked and still wearing the suit. His gaze refused to meet the older adult. Like a child, he held his head down and allowed himself to be yelled at.
Old habits die hard.
“I thought you were Spider-Man! You’ve fought villains before! What’s so different now, huh? Have you stopped caring? Is that it?!” Peter shook his head, biting his lip and stapling his tongue.
“Look at me when I talk to you! This isn’t Stark’s house and this sure ain’t your aunts! You look at me in my eye and answer my question!”
Hill shot him an apologetic look, but said nothing. Peter raised his chin, looking up at the director with puffy red eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” Was all he could say. “I’m s-so sorry.”
“You can say sorry all you want but sorry does nothing. It doesn’t magically wipe away every mistake you make today!”
Peter looked away, ashamed of himself. He couldn’t form a single thought or word. He could only listen to the angry words of the man in front of him.
“You’re not a little boy anymore, you’re a man now! Suck up that pout and fix your mistake!”
Fury walked away, his anger seething, leaving the kid sitting on the box. The teen’s bottom lip trembled aggressively, feeling the waterworks come.
“I think you did alright,” Hill suddenly voiced in. “You prevented casualties which is far more important.” Peter shook his head, ignoring the compliment, unable to bare it. Fury was right. He made a mistake. Whimpering like a baby wasn’t gonna fix that.
Like what Mister Stark said, sorry doesn’t cut it. Not anymore.
He had to fix.
“Fury is pissed off, but he means well. He knows you did good and so do we.”
Peter wiped his eyes, determined not to cry. He inhaled his tears and looked up at them.
“He’s right. Being a baby isn’t gonna solve anything,” He announced numbly, ignoring the concerned gaze, he stood up and left.
Peter stared at the stars, wondering what it would be like to touch them. To feel their brightness touch his skin, and see their beauty.
The teen clutched the phone in his hands, wondering if it were for the best if he called. He need guidance. He needs help. The only people he knew to give it were dozens of miles away.
Peter breathed, looking down at the phone and dialed. He held the phone up to his ear and listened to it ring.
“This is not the number you’re looking for. Hang up and try again (“You can’t just end it like that Ned!” “Come on Peter, it won’t sound cool if I say anything else after!”) Beeeeeeep.”
Peter lowered his phone, beaten by the sound of the old voicemail. He woefully smiled at the memory of the hours spent trying to come up with the perfect voicemail. Hours wasted trying to improvise and energy wasted. Eventually they ended up picking this one in the end since it was the best recorded of them all. He shut the phone, finding the world to feel awfully large all of a sudden.
Suddenly with the grace of a dancer, a fully suited Mysterio floated up in front of him. It reminded of Strange and all his floating magic. Clearly their skill was far more than he could compete with.
“Fury asked me to come up here and see how you’re doing, he felt bad for snapping at you..”
“Really?” Peter looked up at the hero, his eyes widening like a child on Christmas, so full of hope and desperation for an approval.
“You guys do have sarcasm on this earth, right?” Peter let out a breathy laugh, his head falling. It was stupid to hope that Fury wasn’t mad at him. He failed him just like he did everyone else.
An endless cycle of disappointment and failure.
“How are you feeling?”
Peter looked up at Beck, staring at the place where his eyes would be from behind the glass dome on his head.
“I didn’t think I’d have to save the world after...everything,” Peter confessed, “I know that makes me sound like such a jerk but I lost everything I cared for. My family and friends changed, and I’m kinda just stuck here. It’s like I missed my whole life, which is crazy because I only lost five years. I’m lucky that I still had my Aunt here and I should feel grateful. However I can’t shake this feeling, it’s weird. I guess I’m just scared that when I came back I didn’t just lose my life, I lost myself too.”
Beck lowered himself beside the troubled youth, taking a seat beside him and had his helmet dematerialise. He faced Peter, looking over at his troubled friend.
“I like you Peter. You’re a good kid.” Peter looked up at the man, watching the complex expression unfold on the hero’s face. “Part of me wants to tell you to turn around and run away from all this,” Beck gestured to the sky, shaking his head, “and there’s another part of me that knows what we’re about to fight.” The older man looked at him again, his eyes a bit distant yet full of belief in the young teen.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Beck watched with understanding as the teen began to bury himself in shame. “I can see you’re lost. From day one, I could see the pain you’re holding Pete, and I’m not gonna lie, it kinda worries me.” Peters masked faltered, shattering to pieces before the older role models eyes, revealing the true emotion behind the spider mask he wore. He looked tired, his body slumped and defeated, his face a mess.
“I know you’re hurting and I wish I could help but that’s your choice. I won’t ever take away your free will to choose for yourself. So if you tell me you’re okay, then I’ll believe you.”
Peter bit his tongue, feeling his walls burning faster than Pompeii. Crumbling before his very touch, falling at his feet. The walls kept tumbling down, until nothing but dust and ashes was left.
“I-I’m…” The word ‘okay’ faltered in his head, leaving him with nothing to pick himself up with. He dug his nails deep into his skin, trying to overcome the sudden wave of anxiety rush him.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered instinctively, his defense mechanism coming to play.
“It’s okay.“
“No, it’s not,” Peter shook his head, “I hurt somebody. They were robbing a store and I...I lost control. I could’ve k-killed him but they were saying all these things-”
“You were doing what you had to. Nobody blames you for that.”
“I do,” Peter replied distantly, “I blame me. I did the one thing I swore not to do.” Beck fell silent, letting the teenager have a moment to speak freely. “I should’ve been better.” He knew it was better to let the kid speak than to stop him.
When there was no response, Peter wiped his wet eyes, shoving his emotions into a box and locking them in the closet.
“Things are happening to me and I’m scared. I-I can’t control myself. The people I love keep getting hurt because of it.”
“Does that have to do with the little light show in your eyes?”
“What?” Peter spun around defensively. “How did you-“
“During the fight your eyes...they were a different color. They were red,” Beck explained carefully, treading on ice. The teen fell silent, his eyes falling on the city below, wondering how the New York lights looked at the moment. He hadn’t seen them in five years. Were they still as beautiful as when he first saw them?
“I-I don't know what’s wrong with me,” Peter told him, “it’s like there’s something inside of me, something powerful living. It scares me.”
“Do you know how…?”
“Kinda…” Beck gave the teen a blank stare, eating for the kid to go one. “I had a vision.” The older man nodded in understanding, his eyes lighting up.
“I’m sorry this is all happening to you,” Beck told him. To the teens suprise, there was no pity in his voice. Just understanding and support.
When Peter didn’t say anything else the older hero seem to catch on saying, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Peter bit his lip,finding his feet fare more fascinating than the world around him. His body refusing to form words as the bitter memory rises along with bile. His dark eyes filling with hesitant tears.
“I was attacked,” Peter spat out, feeling a new gate get sprung open, one full of more burden and pain that was supposed to die with him. However he couldn’t hold it any longer. The pain was eating him alive, chewing him up slowly. He needed to speak to someone desperately, unable to trap it underneath the rubble of his sins. “B-Before Mister Fury found me...I was attacked,” He specified, looking down at his lap like a child, picking at nails, completely new to this foreign feelings, “I-I should’ve protected myself. I’m Spider-Man, I’m supposed to take down the bad people, not the other way around. B-But I just froze. I-I don’t remember much, I had b-blacked out.” Peter scoffed at the memory and the dozens of things he could’ve done to save himself. He could’ve fought, screamed, ran-but instead he froze like a deer in headlights.
“I just remember how he reeked of old alcohol and cigarettes and the way his voice sounded. I-I tried to forget but I never did. No matter how much I tried, I could never forget.”
“Attacked...” Beck eyes flashed with realization, “You were raped.”
The word felt so wrong. It was like venom to him, it burned and stung him. It was almost unbelievable. Hearing it out loud hurt. His heart banged against his rib cage, tearing itself apart as he listened.
Yet it also felt like a huge relief onto his body, like the words got rid of the burden within. Like a balloon floating away.
“He didn’t get that far,” Peter whispered.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Beck told him, his eyes widen with a melancholy glint.
“Don’t be. It was my fault. I could’ve fought him off but I was too weak-“
“This isn’t your fault Peter. None of it is. Only the sick bastard who did it,” Beck cut him off, pulling him back from the dark gloomy clouds around. For a moment, Peter felt okay. His thunderclouds began to clear, letting him see the light briefly.
“I’m supposed to be a hero. Heroes can’t be the victims,” The kid argued weakly.
“You’re human Pete before anything. Humans can get hurt. Humans can feel pain. Don’t you forget that.”
Peter silently bowed his head, looking back at the lights. He watched them flicker and wave across the quiet town. Beside him, Beck looked out, watching what the boy watched, his face morphed into a complex expression while the teen’s was just melancholy.
Nobody dared to speak after that, and Peter was glad for that.
Sometimes the quiet was okay.