mickilennial
Half Pint
Supermaxx
webboysurf
Simple Unicycle
Hillan
Hound55
Sep@Simple Unicycle this one goes out to you, sport, but to @Saint Maxx especially.
The gunshot knifed through the Autumn air. Above the traffic and the footsteps of millions, beyond sputtering tailpipes and screaming merchants, it was the one sound that rang in Peter Parker’s ears. Over and over and over again. He felt like he was small again, hearing the phone crash into the receiver as Aunt May staggered. Death.
It hit his heart before it his his brain, and he was running. His feet cracked against the pavement. He might’ve been leaving divots, he didn’t care, just pressing forward. The suit around him tightened, he felt it in the very fibers of his muscles, giving him the boost he needed. His vision was tunneled, but it didn’t matter. He was guided between passerby as if they weren’t there at all, the only evidence of his passing left in the explosions of his footfalls. The rest of his senses had singular focus.
The gunman’s footsteps were a cacophony, echoing through a hundred yards of pavement and reverberating with every cell in his body, even his stench filled Peter, sweat and adrenaline and blood and fear -- and it was getting farther and farther away. A football field. Two. The crowds were too much. Instantaneously, Peter’s legs coiled and he launched a half dozen meters in the air. A hand snapped forward and a webline pirouetted through the sky, snagging onto a flagpole.
His momentum carried him through the swing, he released and hung over the streets for a moment. It felt like an eternity, a spider hunting for his prey. There. Peter picked the ski mask out of the crowd, bobbing and weaving, waving a gun at anyone that didn’t move fast enough. Peter’s body compressed into a missile and he shot downward. At the last second he launched another web and pulled. He sailed down the street and hit the ground in a roll.
He was almost upon the gunman, now. If he listened close, he could hear the gunman’s panicked breathing. He was already haggard from running, like there were rocks in his lungs. Peter was low to the ground, and the concrete below him was a blur as he closed the distance. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten. The gunman rounded a corner.
A web hooked into the corner of a building and Peter pulled himself around at speed, and the gunman was gone. Thousands of faces swirled before him, all staring at the man with the white spider on his chest. A ski mask. One goddamn ski mask ripped off and freeing the bastard that shot...
“Damnit!” Peter’s fist lanced out and cleaved a hunk of brickwork from the corner. Passerby staggered back, screaming. His own voice came to him as if in a dream: What am I doing? Peter shook his head. Who… Who had been shot, anyway? It wasn’t… No. It couldn’t be.
His suit began to fade as he turned, running back from where he came. A superhuman’s sprint became a teenager’s jog, black boots warping back into hand-me-down converse. It couldn’t be, right? Just a dream he’d seen in the heat of the moment. That guy shot at someone, so he’d only imagine the worst, right?
Right?
There was a crowd gathered around the car. That wasn’t Ben’s car. It couldn’t be. It was a green Honda, but plenty of people drove those. And plenty of people had the Midtown High Student Achievement stickers on the back window. And more people than that had the ESU alumni bumper plates. And Ben’s sticker for Vets and May’s stupid fish thing and that license plate number and… Oh God.
“Move! Please!” Peter’s muscles felt like they were made out of jello, a tiny little creature in a crowd full of giants. A kid again. The people interlocked and swirled, cascading over one another in waves, not a one of them stepping forward to help.
“Please!” Peter was lost in their ocean, fighting to just get closer. He remembered that day, so many people, so many gifts that were supposed to make him feel better, Aunt May hugging herself by the fireplace while Ben bounced him up and down on his knee, over and over and over again. Ben’s face through the crowds just trying to pay their respects, someone else who really felt something. He couldn’t do it again. Not with Ben.
“It’s my Uncle! Let me through!” Finally he made his way, falling forward through the group. His powers were gone from him and a scraped knee ripped across his consciousness. He pushed himself to his feet and there he saw it. Uncle Ben.
He was slumped against the side of the car. The red was everywhere, pumping steadily out of a little hole in his abdomen. Both of his hands were pressed into the wound and he was tight-lipped. Peter couldn’t see tears. He just stared right through at the ground, his mind somewhere else, trying to think of some way through this.
“Ben?” Peter’s voice cracked.
“Peter.” Red rimmed eyes met his. Still, Ben smiled. Peter stumbled closer, both knees knocked hard against the pavement.
“Ben, Ben, it’sgonnabeokay Ben, I promise, I… I--” Ben’s hand came around his back and pulled him close. He was so warm.
“S’okay, Peter. S’okay.” Peter could feel the blood leaking onto his jeans, but he pulled himself closer to Ben, running his hands through his Uncle’s hair. No no no no no no... He could hear an ambulance now, piercing the noise of the crowd.
“Peter…” Ben’s hand found its way to his face, his thumb made slow circles over the boy’s cheek. Somehow he kept up that great big smile of his through the blood and the pain, but Peter saw the mask of death, twisted into macabre acceptance. Peter wouldn’t have it. Ambulance tires screeched, just yards away. The smell of the burning rubber hadn’t reached Peter’s nose before he was yelling.
“Hey! Hey!” The crowds were parting. “Help us! Please!” Maybe there was a chance. A hand tugged at his shirt. It was so weak. Ben’s eyes drifted, they couldn’t meet Peter’s.
“I love you Pete...” Ben started again. “You’re--You’re so--” Peter pulled Ben closer, he pumped his arms, trying to wave the crowd away, clear a path for the paramedics. They were so close.
“Save your strength… Please. They’re so… We’re so close… I can’t.” Peter swallowed. “Please.”
Ben stared back at him. His hand was stained red. Still pressed against his wounds. The paramedics were upon them now, and Peter was pushed away as they set to work, kneeling beside him.
Ben could only watch Peter was he was pulled away. Through the haze of encroaching darkness, all he saw was his nephew; fists curling, and a face twisted into some emotion Ben could not recognize in the boy.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
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S P I D E R - M A N
P E T E R B E N J A M I N P A R K E R ♦ S T U D E N T ♦ N E W Y O R K C I T Y ♦ M I D T O W N H I G H
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"... Define 'witty'?"
Peter Benjamin Parker was born to Richard and Mary Parker, out of an unassuming home in Queens. What would be a fairly ordinary childhood was cut short when his parents were killed in a random car accident. The other driver was never caught, but such as it is with New York City. The young Peter, only six at the time, quickly found himself in the care of his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker.
Peter has found himself in their care for the better part of ten years, now. Though the Parker family was never wealthy, they found their happiness in other ways -- Peter was always fascinated with little tinker toys Ben brought for him, content to fidget and experiment his days away, while Ben and May would dance in the living room to old records. It was never perfect, but Peter always found it a certain kind of idyllic. His parents' deaths were long behind him, and he took comfort in his life with Ben and May. Along the way, he made a fledgling group of friends in and around Queens: Gwen Stacy, child of a cop and a personal confidant, Harry Osborn, son a veritable super genius and still the only man alive to beat Peter at Mario Kart, and Mary Jane Watson, a girl with a fire in her heart like nothing else. Even Flash Thompson palled around with them in Elementary School, but he'd grown to be something of a bully in recent years. Peter always knew that High School changed people, but he never really found out how much until the day of the Oscorp field trip.
Thanks to some wheedling from the Osborn heir apparent, a school field trip brought Peter's entire sophomore class for a day at Oscorp Industries. They were touring the genetics lab, but anyone who was anyone knew what Oscorp was really interested in; an extra-planetary substance that seemed somehow capable of enhancing whatever it was applied to. It was largely inert, but the substance did seem to move on its own troublingly often. Such behavior was chalked up to residual static discharge by Oscorp Weapons Mechanics, an error in judgment they would come to regret. On the day of the field trip, the substance gathered enough energy to breach containment and escape into the wider world, riding whatever host it deemed appropriate. As the visitors from Midtown High were being evacuated amid the breach, Peter spotted an unusually large, black arachnid, not of any species known to him. Concluding the spider must be playing host to the escaped creature, Peter attempted to capture and return it. He reached for it, and --
Peter awoke the next day in his bedroom, Aunt May and Uncle Ben at either side. He'd suddenly collapsed at Oscorp, evidently from stress, and was brought straight back home. The following weeks were full of revelations for Peter -- he found he had enhanced strength, speed, and even the ability to shoot webbing from his wrists or crawl on walls. On top of it all, he'd gained the ability to seemingly transform the clothes on his body to any shape he desired. Somehow, he'd gained the abilities of a spider and more, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. It was about time the Parkers had another source of income. A three-match wrestling career as "The Black Spider" was cut short when Peter allowed an armed robber to flee the arena. The man had an armful of cash stolen from the Tournament Organizer who refused Peter what he was owed, suspecting he had stacked the deck by being a "metahuman". Once allowed him to get away, the man shot his Uncle Ben in a carjacking; nearly fatally, too. Ben suffered permanent spinal damage. Doctors suspected he'd never walk again, and none of them could tell Peter anything useful that he could do. So he decided to make his own way, and hunt down the man who shot his Uncle, as... THE INDOMITABLE SPIDER-MAN!
Peter has found himself in their care for the better part of ten years, now. Though the Parker family was never wealthy, they found their happiness in other ways -- Peter was always fascinated with little tinker toys Ben brought for him, content to fidget and experiment his days away, while Ben and May would dance in the living room to old records. It was never perfect, but Peter always found it a certain kind of idyllic. His parents' deaths were long behind him, and he took comfort in his life with Ben and May. Along the way, he made a fledgling group of friends in and around Queens: Gwen Stacy, child of a cop and a personal confidant, Harry Osborn, son a veritable super genius and still the only man alive to beat Peter at Mario Kart, and Mary Jane Watson, a girl with a fire in her heart like nothing else. Even Flash Thompson palled around with them in Elementary School, but he'd grown to be something of a bully in recent years. Peter always knew that High School changed people, but he never really found out how much until the day of the Oscorp field trip.
Thanks to some wheedling from the Osborn heir apparent, a school field trip brought Peter's entire sophomore class for a day at Oscorp Industries. They were touring the genetics lab, but anyone who was anyone knew what Oscorp was really interested in; an extra-planetary substance that seemed somehow capable of enhancing whatever it was applied to. It was largely inert, but the substance did seem to move on its own troublingly often. Such behavior was chalked up to residual static discharge by Oscorp Weapons Mechanics, an error in judgment they would come to regret. On the day of the field trip, the substance gathered enough energy to breach containment and escape into the wider world, riding whatever host it deemed appropriate. As the visitors from Midtown High were being evacuated amid the breach, Peter spotted an unusually large, black arachnid, not of any species known to him. Concluding the spider must be playing host to the escaped creature, Peter attempted to capture and return it. He reached for it, and --
Peter awoke the next day in his bedroom, Aunt May and Uncle Ben at either side. He'd suddenly collapsed at Oscorp, evidently from stress, and was brought straight back home. The following weeks were full of revelations for Peter -- he found he had enhanced strength, speed, and even the ability to shoot webbing from his wrists or crawl on walls. On top of it all, he'd gained the ability to seemingly transform the clothes on his body to any shape he desired. Somehow, he'd gained the abilities of a spider and more, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. It was about time the Parkers had another source of income. A three-match wrestling career as "The Black Spider" was cut short when Peter allowed an armed robber to flee the arena. The man had an armful of cash stolen from the Tournament Organizer who refused Peter what he was owed, suspecting he had stacked the deck by being a "metahuman". Once allowed him to get away, the man shot his Uncle Ben in a carjacking; nearly fatally, too. Ben suffered permanent spinal damage. Doctors suspected he'd never walk again, and none of them could tell Peter anything useful that he could do. So he decided to make his own way, and hunt down the man who shot his Uncle, as... THE INDOMITABLE SPIDER-MAN!
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
My Peter is very different from the vanilla version. He's got the symbiote suit to start, and his Uncle Ben isn't dead, at least not yet. This is a Peter who hasn't quite gotten "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility" through his head yet, and is hell-bent on bringing the man that shot his Uncle to justice, by any means necessary. On top of it all, he's very, very green to his job and has no idea what he's doing.
To be clear, these changes aren't made to have an angstier or edgier Peter, though there will be a sprig of that as is the nature of the symbiote. I want to tell a story about a struggling Peter, his family is sinking in debt under Hospital bills, he's unraveling the case of his Uncle's shooting while contesting a Police Department that refuses to work with him, all while dealing with the trials and tribulations of High School. This will be a story about Peter being pushed to his limitations and confronting them, a story about family and expectations, and above all else, a story about what Great Responsibility really means. He's going to make a lot of bad choices, and be thoroughly punished for them, to force him to truly become The Indomitable Spider-Man.
In terms of my grander aspirations, I'm certainly starting Peter in the black suit for a reason. In time, the symbiote will come to tinge everything Peter touches. His life, his work, his villains, and especially those closest to him. This version of Spider-Man will eventually take heavy horror cues, showing a Spider-Man on the run from an encroaching array of symbiote-enhanced villains coming for his head, and secretly infecting those closest to him. Peter won't know who he can trust, and he needs to stay on his toes at every moment. He's just a kid that's been thrust into this terrifying body-horror situation with an alien being that has literally fused to his body, and this run will explore the consequences of that.
To be clear, these changes aren't made to have an angstier or edgier Peter, though there will be a sprig of that as is the nature of the symbiote. I want to tell a story about a struggling Peter, his family is sinking in debt under Hospital bills, he's unraveling the case of his Uncle's shooting while contesting a Police Department that refuses to work with him, all while dealing with the trials and tribulations of High School. This will be a story about Peter being pushed to his limitations and confronting them, a story about family and expectations, and above all else, a story about what Great Responsibility really means. He's going to make a lot of bad choices, and be thoroughly punished for them, to force him to truly become The Indomitable Spider-Man.
In terms of my grander aspirations, I'm certainly starting Peter in the black suit for a reason. In time, the symbiote will come to tinge everything Peter touches. His life, his work, his villains, and especially those closest to him. This version of Spider-Man will eventually take heavy horror cues, showing a Spider-Man on the run from an encroaching array of symbiote-enhanced villains coming for his head, and secretly infecting those closest to him. Peter won't know who he can trust, and he needs to stay on his toes at every moment. He's just a kid that's been thrust into this terrifying body-horror situation with an alien being that has literally fused to his body, and this run will explore the consequences of that.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Ben Parker: Peter's Uncle. Ben's always been a father figure to Peter, trying to instill him with his values, but still letting the kid be a kid. He's been one of the biggest enablers for Peter's love of science. He's currently paralyzed from the waist down, and needs a hell of a lot of rest.
May Parker: Peter's Aunt. The old lady's always been a little coddling for Peter's taste, but her heart's in the right place. She's been a greater partner to Ben and a great mother figure for Peter over the years, but she does occasionally have a tendency to clutch her pearls.
Gwen Stacy: One of Peter's closest friends in the world, and one of the most vocal supporters of Spider-Man, despite her Police Captain father's protests. Gwen's always been a science geek like him, but she ended up getting more into the arts and activism than he ever did. She's the drummer in MJ's band, The Mary Janes.
Mary Jane Watson: One of Peter's closest friends. She comes from a bad home, and she's got an anti-establishment streak a mile wide. Harry's girlfriend. Singer, Frontwoman, and Lead Guitarist of The Mary Janes.
Harry Osborn: Son of Norman Osborn and aspiring coder. He doesn't have the head for it, but he wants to make his Dad proud, and maybe use it to make games on the side or something. Also one of Peter's closest friends, although he can be brash at times, he's always right there when you need him.
Glory Grant: Guitarist of The Mary Janes. Peter isn't very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's got the skinny on Flash Thompson's whole deal, and Peter finds it entertaining to listen to every now and again.
Betty Brant: Bassist of The Mary Janes. Peter was never very close with her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's very close with Glory. She doesn't seem it on the surface, but she's got a thing for Death Metal.
Flash Thompson: Six feet of raw muscle and not an ounce of sense to fill that head of his. He's the QB of the Midtown High Football team, which he thinks gives him the right to lord over everyone at the school. He tends to pick on Peter more than other kids, Peter thinks its because he still remembers the story of the time Flash pissed himself in the 6th grade.
Liz Allan: Never one of the smartest kids in school, but she's always been sweet with Peter. And a little flirty, too, but that's how she is to most guys... Right? Anyway, she's Flash's girlfriend, so Peter tries to keep his distance.
Doctor Curt Connors: One of Peter's idols, a brilliant geneticist, chemical engineer, and biologist working out of his labs at Empire State University. Peter and Gwen were lucky enough to score an internship with him.
Doctor Martha Connors: Lab assistant and wife to Curt Connors, but a brilliant geneticist in her own right.
Michael Morbius: Another assistant to the Connors. He can be a little pompous and arrogant, but he seems nice, overall.
J. Jonah Jameson: Local News editor at the Daily Bugle working his way to Editor-In-Chief. JJ hasn't caught wind of the Spider-Man yet, but Peter's more than seen some of his work in the papers; he seems at least a little competent.
May Parker: Peter's Aunt. The old lady's always been a little coddling for Peter's taste, but her heart's in the right place. She's been a greater partner to Ben and a great mother figure for Peter over the years, but she does occasionally have a tendency to clutch her pearls.
Gwen Stacy: One of Peter's closest friends in the world, and one of the most vocal supporters of Spider-Man, despite her Police Captain father's protests. Gwen's always been a science geek like him, but she ended up getting more into the arts and activism than he ever did. She's the drummer in MJ's band, The Mary Janes.
Mary Jane Watson: One of Peter's closest friends. She comes from a bad home, and she's got an anti-establishment streak a mile wide. Harry's girlfriend. Singer, Frontwoman, and Lead Guitarist of The Mary Janes.
Harry Osborn: Son of Norman Osborn and aspiring coder. He doesn't have the head for it, but he wants to make his Dad proud, and maybe use it to make games on the side or something. Also one of Peter's closest friends, although he can be brash at times, he's always right there when you need him.
Glory Grant: Guitarist of The Mary Janes. Peter isn't very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's got the skinny on Flash Thompson's whole deal, and Peter finds it entertaining to listen to every now and again.
Betty Brant: Bassist of The Mary Janes. Peter was never very close with her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's very close with Glory. She doesn't seem it on the surface, but she's got a thing for Death Metal.
Flash Thompson: Six feet of raw muscle and not an ounce of sense to fill that head of his. He's the QB of the Midtown High Football team, which he thinks gives him the right to lord over everyone at the school. He tends to pick on Peter more than other kids, Peter thinks its because he still remembers the story of the time Flash pissed himself in the 6th grade.
Liz Allan: Never one of the smartest kids in school, but she's always been sweet with Peter. And a little flirty, too, but that's how she is to most guys... Right? Anyway, she's Flash's girlfriend, so Peter tries to keep his distance.
Doctor Curt Connors: One of Peter's idols, a brilliant geneticist, chemical engineer, and biologist working out of his labs at Empire State University. Peter and Gwen were lucky enough to score an internship with him.
Doctor Martha Connors: Lab assistant and wife to Curt Connors, but a brilliant geneticist in her own right.
Michael Morbius: Another assistant to the Connors. He can be a little pompous and arrogant, but he seems nice, overall.
J. Jonah Jameson: Local News editor at the Daily Bugle working his way to Editor-In-Chief. JJ hasn't caught wind of the Spider-Man yet, but Peter's more than seen some of his work in the papers; he seems at least a little competent.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Issue 0
New York City, NY
The gunshot knifed through the Autumn air. Above the traffic and the footsteps of millions, beyond sputtering tailpipes and screaming merchants, it was the one sound that rang in Peter Parker’s ears. Over and over and over again. He felt like he was small again, hearing the phone crash into the receiver as Aunt May staggered. Death.
It hit his heart before it his his brain, and he was running. His feet cracked against the pavement. He might’ve been leaving divots, he didn’t care, just pressing forward. The suit around him tightened, he felt it in the very fibers of his muscles, giving him the boost he needed. His vision was tunneled, but it didn’t matter. He was guided between passerby as if they weren’t there at all, the only evidence of his passing left in the explosions of his footfalls. The rest of his senses had singular focus.
The gunman’s footsteps were a cacophony, echoing through a hundred yards of pavement and reverberating with every cell in his body, even his stench filled Peter, sweat and adrenaline and blood and fear -- and it was getting farther and farther away. A football field. Two. The crowds were too much. Instantaneously, Peter’s legs coiled and he launched a half dozen meters in the air. A hand snapped forward and a webline pirouetted through the sky, snagging onto a flagpole.
His momentum carried him through the swing, he released and hung over the streets for a moment. It felt like an eternity, a spider hunting for his prey. There. Peter picked the ski mask out of the crowd, bobbing and weaving, waving a gun at anyone that didn’t move fast enough. Peter’s body compressed into a missile and he shot downward. At the last second he launched another web and pulled. He sailed down the street and hit the ground in a roll.
He was almost upon the gunman, now. If he listened close, he could hear the gunman’s panicked breathing. He was already haggard from running, like there were rocks in his lungs. Peter was low to the ground, and the concrete below him was a blur as he closed the distance. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten. The gunman rounded a corner.
A web hooked into the corner of a building and Peter pulled himself around at speed, and the gunman was gone. Thousands of faces swirled before him, all staring at the man with the white spider on his chest. A ski mask. One goddamn ski mask ripped off and freeing the bastard that shot...
“Damnit!” Peter’s fist lanced out and cleaved a hunk of brickwork from the corner. Passerby staggered back, screaming. His own voice came to him as if in a dream: What am I doing? Peter shook his head. Who… Who had been shot, anyway? It wasn’t… No. It couldn’t be.
His suit began to fade as he turned, running back from where he came. A superhuman’s sprint became a teenager’s jog, black boots warping back into hand-me-down converse. It couldn’t be, right? Just a dream he’d seen in the heat of the moment. That guy shot at someone, so he’d only imagine the worst, right?
Right?
There was a crowd gathered around the car. That wasn’t Ben’s car. It couldn’t be. It was a green Honda, but plenty of people drove those. And plenty of people had the Midtown High Student Achievement stickers on the back window. And more people than that had the ESU alumni bumper plates. And Ben’s sticker for Vets and May’s stupid fish thing and that license plate number and… Oh God.
“Move! Please!” Peter’s muscles felt like they were made out of jello, a tiny little creature in a crowd full of giants. A kid again. The people interlocked and swirled, cascading over one another in waves, not a one of them stepping forward to help.
“Please!” Peter was lost in their ocean, fighting to just get closer. He remembered that day, so many people, so many gifts that were supposed to make him feel better, Aunt May hugging herself by the fireplace while Ben bounced him up and down on his knee, over and over and over again. Ben’s face through the crowds just trying to pay their respects, someone else who really felt something. He couldn’t do it again. Not with Ben.
“It’s my Uncle! Let me through!” Finally he made his way, falling forward through the group. His powers were gone from him and a scraped knee ripped across his consciousness. He pushed himself to his feet and there he saw it. Uncle Ben.
He was slumped against the side of the car. The red was everywhere, pumping steadily out of a little hole in his abdomen. Both of his hands were pressed into the wound and he was tight-lipped. Peter couldn’t see tears. He just stared right through at the ground, his mind somewhere else, trying to think of some way through this.
“Ben?” Peter’s voice cracked.
“Peter.” Red rimmed eyes met his. Still, Ben smiled. Peter stumbled closer, both knees knocked hard against the pavement.
“Ben, Ben, it’sgonnabeokay Ben, I promise, I… I--” Ben’s hand came around his back and pulled him close. He was so warm.
“S’okay, Peter. S’okay.” Peter could feel the blood leaking onto his jeans, but he pulled himself closer to Ben, running his hands through his Uncle’s hair. No no no no no no... He could hear an ambulance now, piercing the noise of the crowd.
“Peter…” Ben’s hand found its way to his face, his thumb made slow circles over the boy’s cheek. Somehow he kept up that great big smile of his through the blood and the pain, but Peter saw the mask of death, twisted into macabre acceptance. Peter wouldn’t have it. Ambulance tires screeched, just yards away. The smell of the burning rubber hadn’t reached Peter’s nose before he was yelling.
“Hey! Hey!” The crowds were parting. “Help us! Please!” Maybe there was a chance. A hand tugged at his shirt. It was so weak. Ben’s eyes drifted, they couldn’t meet Peter’s.
“I love you Pete...” Ben started again. “You’re--You’re so--” Peter pulled Ben closer, he pumped his arms, trying to wave the crowd away, clear a path for the paramedics. They were so close.
“Save your strength… Please. They’re so… We’re so close… I can’t.” Peter swallowed. “Please.”
Ben stared back at him. His hand was stained red. Still pressed against his wounds. The paramedics were upon them now, and Peter was pushed away as they set to work, kneeling beside him.
Ben could only watch Peter was he was pulled away. Through the haze of encroaching darkness, all he saw was his nephew; fists curling, and a face twisted into some emotion Ben could not recognize in the boy.
