☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

s e v e n t e e n

~ 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 ~

When Peter blinked his eyes open, it was dark. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and flicking away any of the dirt on his face and clothes. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but either way, he didn't feel any better. At all.

Peter's eyes locked on his left to see Amara sleeping, her back facing him and her breathing slow and even. He frowned.

There were many thoughts he had about the girl lying next to him. Many thoughts. Many questions. Many things he was curious about, and if he was honest, he didn't know if he wanted answers to those questions. At least... not yet.

Unable to stop himself, Peter rested his elbow on the ground and leaned over Amara, gently pulling some of her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His eyes traced the detail of her face: her cheek's massive gash going all along the cheekbone, the little bit of blood crusting under her nose, her full lips, which were cracked and dry.

Specifically, his eyes stuck to her cut, because it wasn't just a cut. There was a black mist surrounding it, swirling around it, closing it from the top and, at a pace slower than a snails, it was completely disappearing.

Her veins were black. Some more prominent than others, but all black. Her skin was as pale as the moon, which almost gave the effect that she couldn't be real. She was made of something only the gentlest of hands could touch, or she would shatter into a million pieces.

But that was only to the people that didn't know her, because Peter knew better.

He was still trying to wrap his head around this whole Shadow thing. He knew It was a voice, and It had a conscious. Almost like It was her conscious, only more fierce, more violent, and more prominent than it came for the average person.

That was what made them - Amara and the Shadow - the same. They had the same mindset. They were the same person.

But It was more Amara's second conscious, since sometimes, she didn't like the things It said. She fought with It instead of obeying. That was what made them different. Yet, still the same person.

And when she agreed with the things It said... that's when things became mayhem. That's when It would take over, and that's when shit got messy.

He had to admit, when he first heard Bitch Brad screaming from somewhere else in the base, Peter thought Amara was simply defending herself, and his pride had quickly lifted. He knew she was able to defend herself without her mutation, and he was ready to face whatever punishment he had to for her doing so.

But when the screaming never stopped, and no one came to give him shit, confusion spread through his body. A million different scenarios passed through his head on what could happen next: Amara being dragged back to her cell, only this time to bleed out; the both of them being dragged to the Torture Chamber; him being dragged there for the sole purpose of watching her get tortured... many different things.

None of them included a little lizard Amara made with her power. And yet, at the sound of something metal dragging across the floor, Peter perked up and looked down the hallway.

Sure enough, a gecko no bigger than the palm of his hand made of the mist of Amara's mutation easily slipped through the bars of his cell and plopped a set of keys on the ground, then blinked up at him with its large, glowing red eyes. Peter was so stunned, he didn't know what to do at first.

He simply stared at the gecko that blinked at him, unable to move. Only when the gecko crawled towards him, its movements swift and quiet, did Peter finally realize what was going on. He held out his hand so the gecko could climb into it, but to his surprise, it didn't stop there. Instead, it climbed all the way up his arm and over his shoulder to his neck, and after he tensed, the gecko nudged its head into its skin and cuddled into it.