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Peter’s life was going better than he would have expected. After the spell, he spent his first month struggling to pay rent, and trying to make himself an identity.
Now, a whole year later, he managed to land into M.I.T, and got an internship at a banking company. Not his first choice, but it paid for rent, food, utilities, and it meant Peter didn’t have to work several jobs.
He was currently writing an essay, sitting on his desk in his 1 bedroom apartment. It was not too loud compared to other days but he could still hear the traffic, the flicker of his desk lamp, and the chatter outside on the streets.
He flicked his pen in his hand, spinning and twirling it.
Sighing, he tilted his head up to the ceiling, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, everything was quiet. Too quiet.
He peered outside the window, freezing when he saw what it was.
His pen dropped.
This wasn’t possible.
This wasn’t possible.
This wasn’t possible.
HE IS NOT INSANE
HE IS NOT INSANE
HE IS NOT INSANE
Peter's breathing got heavier.
Everything around him dissolved, and he was on his knees, on Titan again, watching.
“It was the only way..”
“Mr Stark? I don’t.. I don’t feel so good— I don’t know what's happening—“
He tried blocking it out.
“Please, sir! I don’t wanna go.. I don’t wanna go..”
“I’m sorry.”
Peter ran. He ran as fast as he could. He didn’t want to see that. He never wants to see that. For a second he thought it was happening to him again. He was getting ripped apart, atom by atom. But it wasn’t possible. He needed to wake up. He needed to wake up, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP.
He saw himself falling.
The drones followed.
He was back.
“Stop,” His own voice felt foreign. “I know this isn’t real”
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t “Do you though, Peter?” His breathing was shallow. “I don’t think you know what's real”
He watched. He fell. The mirror shattered . He was under the building again. “I AM the truth, Peter! Mysterio, IS the truth!”
He fell, and fell, and fell, till he was back at the apartment, getting crushed through the floor. “Strong enough to have it all..” came a voice he hoped to never hear again.
“Too weak to take it!”
He tried fighting. He needed to stop the explosion. “No!”
He was back. Next to May’s body. He fell to his knees, next to himself, who was holding May.
“You and me.. it’s just you and me.”
“It was your fault, Parker. You can’t change it!” The voice sounded like a mix of Quentin Beck and Norman Osborn.
He tried running. But Mays face was all he could see, and soon, it morphed into Tony’s.
He stood, back at the battle field, watching everyone gather round Tony’s body.
“If you were good enough.. maybe Tony would still be alive.”
And then he was back.
As if he had never moved an inch.
In his room.
The lights were still flickering. He peered outside, and people were running. It was chaotic.
He turned on his phone, greeted by the newest headline.
‘THE NEW AVENGERS’