Mr. Stark was dead.
Oh god, he was dead.
Or at least, if he wasn’t dead yet then Mr. Stark didn’t have much time left.
Peter could see it, even though he was on the other side of the battlefield, debris scattering and shattering against each other as everything was crashing down.
There was the knife, right through Mr. Stark’s chest.
Intellectually, Peter knew this mission would be dangerous. He knew that when he first saw the donut spaceship floating over Manhattan. He knew that when he followed Mr. Stark into the ship even after Mr. Stark had told him to go home and opened the parachute. He knew that when that half-human guy with the weird mask, had him in a headlock with a space gun pointed to his temple.
And yet, the idea that someone could get seriously hurt, could die, didn’t seem completely real to him until that brief moment where out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw his mentor locked in battle with Thanos. Mr. Stark’s armor melting away with every hit he took.
Then the blade intended for the Mad Titan sunk into Mr. Stark instead.
Peter could feel bile rising in his throat, the acid burning his esophagus as it made its journey.
He pushed it down.
His ears were ringing. Like police sirens, or Aunt May’s cooking timer when some of the mechanics broke and started screeching like a Tasmanian devil. His mouth was dry, too dry. It felt like newly bought sandpaper.
The knife glistened in the orange lighting, giving it a sheen that made it seem as if it wasn't really there. That it was just computer generated. Special effects. It wasn’t actually there. It wasn’t lodged through Mr. Stark’s body like a toothpick skewered through a piece of cheese.
It wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be real
.
…
…...
………...It was……..
The knife… Mr. Stark’s own knife…
Panic struck Peter.
No no no no no It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. He couldn’t let happen like this.
He wanted to scream. His mouth was open, jaw muscles tight. Not a single sound came out.
There was a cold frost creeping up his spine. Staring in the pit of his stomach and climbing up to entrap his heart. Peter’s insides were frozen over. He couldn’t do anything. He was powerless to stop it. And that, perhaps, was one of the most terrifying thing about the situation.
The battle still raged, the chunks of metal and land still kept flying. Peter forced himself to rip his eyes away from Mr. Stark. He grabbed hold of a piece of singed metal, swinging himself around until his legs were bunched up against the even side of the debris. With a burst of strength, he launched himself forward, arms reaching forward to push himself off of the next piece of debris.
A body flew past him, causing him to bite back a curse.
He twisted his torso in mid-leap and caught the two aliens with a couple of shots from his web shooters.
“I got you! I got you!” He yelled after each line of webbing stuck to its intended target, “Sorry I can’t remember everyone’s names....”
It wasn’t even a full day since the standoff between the Avengers and the trio of aliens. Peter knew that they’d all introduced themselves at some point but for the life of him he couldn’t recall any of their names.
The spider enhanced teenager was ripped out of his thoughts as he saw Thanos take a step back and lift his gauntlet-clad arm, pointing it straight at Mr. Stark’s slumped form.
Peter was ready to jump on Thanos right then and there. But then-
“Spare him.”
Doctor Strange’s voice rang across the battlefield. Clear and concise. Thanos paused and shifted his gaze over to the wizard. And a shred of hope dared to make itself known in Peter’s heart. Maybe they’ll make it out of this ok….
….
..
.
Fifteen minutes later as Peter lay under the blood orange skies of Titan, staring up at the horrified eyes of Mr. Stark, Peter couldn’t help but think. Their positions were suddenly reversed. The same icy frost that spread through Peter’s body when he thought he saw his mentor die, now consumed Mr. Stark himself.
“I’m Sorry”