usm . story dump

The Hurt [ ]

Kind of a new format of separated stories of the same universe. This is part two of Protect, which takes place a little after Force of Nature. This was also as per the request of someone else, so I apologise for the late submission.

ㅡ

Peter Parker

A few years have passed after that relapse of his, and he's been doing a lot better nowadays. He could feel happier and breathe easier with the knowledge that his teams were there. Even with those occasional attacks and such with Doc Ock and a few scuffles with the Goblin, Peter felt like he was better. He was getting better, and he had forgotten about everything that had happened in the past.

It was all just a bad memory. And in a way, he felt like he got past that bad memory.

Everything was fine.

That was... until he met his nightmare again.

It was just a little after Peter had defeated Hydroman, dealing with another villain despite him escaping last second. The threat of a villain did loom close and near, but it didn't mean he should be stressing about everything every day of his life. He's a hero, but he's also just Peter Parker.

Speaking of being himself, he invited his teams for a night out. Just a time to chill and relax, though he was unsure with how some of the heroes could conceal their powers to fit into their civilian identities. It didn't matter: no one seemed to have suspected his teams for anything, and no one seemed to care that one of them had a giant bushy tail on their back or a large, flowy cloak that Cloak never seemed to take off.

The night at the restaurant was great, being able to just be themselves. It was... amazing to be just another human again.

Though, the good night had to end, and the walk back to the Triskelion felt like a sketchy trek, but with a group as large as them, it'd be fine.

Right?

That was until he could feel a hand on his shoulder when he began to lag behind, trying to converse with as many members of his teams as possible. He could feel his skin crawl when he heard that all too familiar nightmarish voice. "Einstein! Long time, no see!"

What was he feeling?

He felt his heart drop, his Spider-Sense blaring like a constant headache. He whipped his head around, only to regret it, feeling bile pool into his stomach, and he stumbled back only to collide with the ground. The collision felt like falling on a bed of needles, breathing felt like shards of glass scrapping against him, and his limbs felt like cooked noodles. Within a flash, he could see the silhouettes of his teammates stand in front of him.

"What business do you have here?" came an animalistic growl. Maybe Ava's.

"I only came to see the old sport," Skip excused, only to be pushed away.

"I will stab you if you don't leave right now," came another voice. With little resistance, he was able to hear the footsteps of Skip walk away, uncaring of the situation the older man put Peter in.

No... Skip was just in his thoughts years ago. This can't be happening again. Not again. Not again. Not again! Those thoughts screamed into the void of his mind, coalescing into a nightmarish replay of that memory.

Black spots appeared in his vision, drowning out the minimal light provided by the night sky. The concerned voices of his teams were nothing but white noise, blaring alarms in addition to his Spider Sense, any contact with anything left a psychic, lasting burn on his skin, and he wanted to cry for help, but feared that his voice would be drowned out by the noise from outside.

Peter grounded himself however, his vision beginning to return, light slowly flooding back into his eyes as he looked over the concerned faces of his teammates. He felt his breathing slow, and the impending doom that he would die of asphyxiation dialed down.

His skin was still on fire, exposed flesh still burning even without physical wounds. There was an unspoken agreement between all of them to give Peter some space to collect himself, and his teammates backed off. He listened to the slowing beat of his heart, steadying his shaking breathing. His fists were balled up and buried within his clothing, and he was practically cradling himself.

He wanted to run, looking at the faces that surrounded him, all concerned and wanting answers as to what happened, but he didn't want to say anything.

Eventually, hours passed. Time passed, enough for the bustling city to quiet down even more, leaving a few stray pedestrians passing by the large group, not bothering a second glance.

It was an unspoken agreement not to talk about it, not to talk about what had happened those moments ago, but when Peter picked himself back up, no one asked questions.

It has been years since that happened, since his previous relapse, but he still hated himself for being unable to forget it. He still despised himself for not being able to get over it despite the extended passage of time.

If seeing his perpetrator could send him spiralling into a panic attack, what could happen to him now?

His teams accompanied him back to the Triskelion. He stayed silent the whole way back, and when he arrived at the dorms, he resigned himself to sleep.

This wasn't something he wanted to talk about at the moment.