Skydiving

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Peter was jolted awake when the Quinjet shook, almost falling off the seats with a choked off cry of surprise and fear.

He quickly stood up, looking around for the ILS's, though only Paddy was there, watching over the room and Peter as the Quinjet shook again.

"What's going on?" Peter asked quickly, looking to Paddy for help. "What happened?"

"We are under attack from automatic ground-to-atmosphere missiles," Paddy said calmly. "Units--Sam and Harry are taking care of it."

"And if they don't?!" Peter ran to the cockpit, trying to get a look outside--just in time for the Quinjet to do a barrel role to avoid a missile, forcing Peter to stick to the ground so he didn't fall and hurt himself.

Only, the missile exploded right next to the canopy, right as the Quinjet righted itself.

Lucky Peter.

The air was sucked from the cockpit as all the glass shattered, the paper pad Peter had left the night before flying out the hole in a moment, followed by Peter himself as he was caught by surprise.

If he was being honest, Peter didn't remember getting pulled out into open air, he just suddenly realized that there was nothing under him except clouds, and way beyond that, the hard ground that was sure to welcome his death, and if the fall didn't kill him (it most certainly would), the zombies would finish him off.

Oh, and did he mention he couldn't breathe?

Peter had experienced G-forces before, but only once before had he ever experienced something like this; when Vulture dropped him from a thousand feet up.

Only, this was fourteen thousand feet up.

Despite loving to swing around, there was no way he would ever go skydiving, not after this, and he decided, right then and there, that he would tear that off his bucket list of things to do before he died.

Well, technically he was about to die, and this was technically involuntary skydiving, so maybe that would be checked off his bucket list anyway?

No, stop it Parker! Peter mentally scolded himself, trying to orient himself as his brain caught up enough to make him let out a scream of fear, though it would be useless.

No one was going to save him. The ILS's were busy dealing with the missiles, and literally everyone else in the world was dead, and he was soon to join them as he fell, stabilizing so he was falling shoulders-first, staring up at the sky and watching the Quinjet get smaller and smaller, the ILS's already only the size of ants.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it was only terrifying in the moment, and his death would be painless.

So, Peter closed his mouth, and swallowed his fear, forcing himself to take in a breath, despite how hard it was with gravity actively shoving it out of his lungs. He breathed, and let his mind wander as the overall shock left him.

What would his last thoughts be?

He wanted them to be of his family, and his friends. He wanted to remember Hope's smile before his head struck the ground, wanted to remember May's hugs, and Ben's rough hands covering his own as they played with a kid's science kit. He wanted to remember putting on the suit for the first time, and the glint of approval and amusement in Tony's eyes. He wanted to remember the countless nights in the lab, working on dozens of projects at once, falling asleep as May sung some Italian lullaby to him, Ben reading to him, Ned fanboying with him, and Hope blushing at some joke he told.

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