daybreakacademy | hollow plots and zombens

A little before midnight is, thankfully, a time he's usually guaranteed wakefulness, aside those times he pushes things. There's no weird sounds, no clattering bones, no frost in his hair when he opens the door, just a warming smile.

He takes up some marking papers, a pencil, and after a reluctant pause, even grabs his guitar. Maybe one of these days he can bring himself to play it properly again.

"Buenas Noches, Chamaco. Weird time for you today," He says. "You usually show up later than this or just as I'm getting up." That gap space in between oft being when Peter at least tries to sleep before his nightmares rouse him-- or he's off causing trouble.

Oh yeah. He did sort of ruin that for Héctor, didn't he. He's still really sorry about that.

"Yeah, I know," he says, rubbing at his face. (The scars have faded to white by now, hardly visible at all.) Normally he does, in fact, try to sleep - and gets some sleep - so 2 AM is more common for him. Maybe 3 if he's having a really good night. But no, it's immediately obvious that he hasn't slept at all yet. "I think my spider senses are messed up? They're super jumpy."

Which is not in and of itself an indication of danger. Blight is unpredictable; sometimes mundane weirdness sets it off too.

He grabs one more thing from his room-- a cane from Ekkehardt. If Peter's caught him after his visit to Ekkehardt, he'll probably notice his limp has eased significantly. The papers are tucked in a roll into a pocket in his torn up jacket, the pencil behind his ear, leaving his hands free for the cane and instrument.

He frowns and makes a thoughtful noise Peter's way. "Well it's not your nightmares if you haven't slept and it's a little early for mid-term stress," He says, trying to go through the possibilities. "Maybe you're catching a cold? Would your sense notice something like that?"

It's definitely post-Ekkehardt, so Peter can indeed notice the limp is better. Good - he hopes that means the doc is keeping Héctor's secret too.

That, meanwhile, is a decent point? Peter opens his mouth to object - but closes it again a moment later, uncertain. "It might," he admits. "It gets stuck on weird things sometimes. One time it kept me up all night because the wiring in our microwave was faulty."

He appreciates the thought, spider-senses, but he wasn't about to set the apartment on fire by nuking a burrito.

"That would be so useful if you could actually tell what it was for," He muses aloud. "You should talk to one of the rune experts. Maybe they can make something that will help you focus that clearer."

It's amazing how many things you can fix with magic here. And also how many things you can't.

Their walk, while not necessarily short, passes by easily. They've got a comfortable rhythm by this point. He mentions texts he's got from Tía May, asks how classes are going, occasionally scolds Peter for some thing or other. He stays as he is when they reach the gazebo. He prefers being in his skeletal form, truth be told, but not shifting in front of Peter seems the kindest thing. The guitar is set down first.

"So, what have we got today?" He asks, knowing full well by this point that Peter is likely leagues beyond him.

"Dude, that would be the sweetest thing." He's down. Like, 100%. He can't count the number of times he's wanted to shake his damn senses for being so vague, so if he had a rune that lit up or at least gave him like a sense of what he's up against ... yeah. That would be so much better.

He's already relaxing as they fall into their normal walk. May sent Héctor a picture of a quiche she made; she's trying a new recipe and it burned terribly, but she thought he might enjoy it anyway. And Peter reports on having called May earlier that day. They'd video called, in fact, but May had just given him a great view of her kitchen floor, oops. Where'd he do it from? Uh ... the roof? Yeah okay maybe he shouldn't be up there but. Anyway.

He flops down on the gazebo steps, reaching into his backpack for a rune textbook. "A whole bunch of rune exercises," he says, pulling out the workbook that goes with it. Vertical lines of squares, each the right size for practicing a particular shape or component. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."

HIs runes are still embarrassingly weak, but he gets the technical side of things. Like programming, really. He'd go into details, except --

Except they're not alone. There's someone else already at the gazebo, facing away from them, looking out towards a wooded area outside of town. Was he there a moment ago? Surely they would have seen him during their walk up, but. There he is, just kind of standing there.

He does enjoy the picture anyway. In fact, he does so even despite not needing to eat. He kind of misses that, but it's a finicky thing, trying to have food like this. It doesn't entirely work right. He laughs about the kitchen floor, and of course, the roof is the scolding for the day-- he knows you can catch yourself, Peter, but if someone sees you...

He's pleased to see the runes-- it's actually one of the few things he can somewhat help with. He remembers the shapes easier, maybe because they remind him of musical notes, maybe because of Imelda. They can come at the problem from their strengths and meet in the middle to make up for their weaknesses.

Or they would, except that even without senses like Peter's, Héctors far too used to being on guard from the outlands. He goes quiet, holding a hand out to Peter to urge him to stay. A strange man in the dark can be bad news and super strength or no, Héctor's not about to be killed by a man with a knife any time soon. He moves to the figure, cautious.

"Hola, Señor. Didn't see you there. Are we interrupting anything here?"

Behind him, Peter just stops. Mouth open, frozen just about solid. All he can do is grab Héctor's arm with a frankly uncomfortable amount of strength. That form. He knows that form, it's burned into his memories. Even from behind he can't help but recognize the man instantly. Graying hair, easy-going stance, dark pants and a worn brown jacket--

As soon as the man turns, the resemblance is obvious. The Parkers have a look to them, and Ben Parker is no different. There's a lot of Peter in his face: dark eyes, strong brows, general air of friendly concern. Equally striking, perhaps, are the horrific scars bisecting his neck from ear to clavicle. Lycan wounds, from claw and teeth both.

Doesn't seem to keep him from speaking, though. Even his voice is a little similar to Peter's, albeit much older and raspier. "No, not at all," he says, as friendly as could be. "Just waiting for my nephew here."

Behind him, Peter's hyperventilating a little. Not possible. Not possible right? But he's standing here with his other dead friend, and the possibility of Ben being here somehow, truly, is just heart-stopping. Only the blaze of danger flaring up from his spider-senses keep him from running to the man instantly. That's him. It has to be, who else would it be?

"Uncle Ben?" he says, his voice cracking. He takes a step forward, so he's side by side with Héctor for a moment. Tears flooding his eyes.

He straightens as the man turns to face him, eyes going wider from the resemblance there to the scars going all the way down. He sucks a breath, mind racing to catch up, to process what exactly it is that he's seeing and put the pieces frantically together. The lycan wounds, that's a question for later.

His proclamation of who he is? That's a question for now.

His heart twists and aches so sharp, hearing the way Peter's voice cracks, knowing the tears are there without even having to look. He wants to see this family united like he would any of his primos, like he wants to reunite with his own.

But, as Peter steps up to his side, something stops him. His hand goes out, holding Peter back. His other hand, with his cane, goes to Peter's shoulder to hold him steady in place.

"You're his Tío? You're really señor parker?" He asks, though the answer to that is obvious. "You've been dead for a while, señor." He holds Peter closer to his side. "Are you undead? If so, you know I've got to ask what kind. And how you got here. We're a long way from New York." And that's kind of fishy isn't it? This man is very visibly torn apart, and he's told Peter before-- most undead aren't like him.

There's pieces that Peter hasn't told him about here. But - everything that Héctor does know about Ben hangs together here. It's Ben all right, or at least some form of him. God only knows what he's doing here.

"Of course I am," Ben says. His tone is kind, human; he doesn't sound monstrous at first. "Peter, come on. You know me. Tell this guy I'm all right."

It's a very good thing that Héctor has that hand out to stop Peter. He jolts forward as soon as Ben speaks - only to freeze again, temporarily halted by Héctor's hand. He's strong enough to push past Héctor if he wanted to, but. Trust keeps him in place for now. "Uncle Ben," he says again, voice wobbling. "I - what are you doing here? Are you okay?"

It's an echo of Héctor's question too. Clearly this ... person in front of them is undead, and maybe not the good kind. He just sighs a little, taking a step towards the both of them. Eyes fixed on Héctor specifically. "Why don't you back off, eh?" he says, his tone hardening into something edged and unpleasant. "Or did you replace me already, Peter?"

His heart aches horribly, but not for himself; for the boy beside him. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all. Something is wrong.

It hits before Ben's words do, the thing that's missing in all this. If it were him, he'd be running to his girl. If it were him, he'd spilling apologies for the natural course of life and burdening his family with it. If it were him, he'd fall apart and nothing would keep him together but having his child in his arms again. Ben is too calm.

Or at least, he was up until his eyes narrowed and his tone went cold. His own eyes go wide, breath catching as he holds Peter tighter, and at the same time shifts himself a little more in front of the boy.

"Peter, stay back," He warns. Fearful or no, his voice is firm.

And then to Ben himself. "There hasn't been any replacing, Señor. I'm just a TA and a friend. But it's you I'm going to have to ask to step back. You've got some things to answer to before you can see your Nephew. You care about him, don't you? You understand that his safety comes first." Don't you? He's not so sure right now.

Edited 2019-01-27 13:30 (UTC)

He's entirely too calm. There's something predatory in the way he watches both of them - something Héctor can see clearly even if Peter can't. And that's before his tone freezes over. Whether this is actually Ben or not, there's something profoundly wrong with him. Something dangerous about the whole situation.

"Of course I care about him," he says. "I'm not here to hurt him." It's strange; Ben is speaking, and his lips are moving, but the sound doesn't quite seem to be coming from his mouth. Instead it's pitched lower, rumbling from his torso somehow. He takes another step forward, extending a hand towards Peter, still behind Héctor. "Come on, Pete. Let's get outta here. You don't have to keep this up any more."

Peter, meanwhile, stands stock still. All of his senses are blaring danger at him; it's overwhelming, especially combined with the image of his uncle standing right there in front of him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says weakly. "Ben - please. I know you're dead. This can't be real."

"I'm real all right." Ben's easy-going smile seems to stretch a little too far up his face. "Real and dead - I'd be real shocked if you didn't know that, Pete. But I'll forgive you for killing me. Just come on home with me."

Keep this up? Keep what up? No, this is crazy. He shakes his head, even as the words aren't for him, blocking Ben's way as he reaches. He tries to take a step back and bring Peter with him. This.... this isn't right.

And then, as if there were any doubt even before that smile, if the were any doubt with it, the weight of those words land. In that moment, he knows with his whole soul that Ben or no, this thing in front of him isn't human anymore.

"Run," He hears himself croak. "Peter, run." His markings light and he whirls, turning his back to that thing and gripping Peter's arms, pushing him forward from that spot with every bit of strength he's got in him.

And then he shouts, "Run!"

The words go through Peter like a knife. Menace or no, that's - that's proof, isn't? He hasn't told anyone exactly what happened that night. Some people here know that Ben was killed by a lycan; others know that Peter holds himself responsible for Ben, or has heard an outright confession by Peter for killing his uncle. But both pieces together? No. It's him. It has to be him. Some version of him, warped maybe, but.

"But - it's him, Héctor, it's really--" That's about the point where Héctor shoves him back, sending Peter stumbling back down the gazebo steps. Again, with his strength, he could force this, etc., but he's so bewildered and unhappy and - and dammit, that's Ben, he knows it is-- He's not running, but he is hanging back for a moment, just lost beyond his ability to cope for a second. His uncle's death is still fresh in his mind; it's been barely seven months since he lost him.

Meanwhile, the hollow lets out a cry of rage. As if Héctor needed any further proof this thing is a monster. Ben splits along that neck injury, a gaping maw exposing itself underneath. Ben's form is just that: an outward form, with the rest of the monster lurking beneath the surface. Spider legs begin to emerge from it as more and more bulk spills out, its mass cracking the gazebo floor and splintering the roof above it.

Maybe Héctor ought to run too.

"It's not Ben anymore!" He shouts back, frantic, and it's just as he does so that the monster rips the image of Peter's uncle apart. For a moment, he's frozen too, staring in abject horror at the thing that emerges. It grows to tower over him as he dissolves to just bones, far smaller.

He can escape faster like this, but he's not invulnerable. And he is very, very afraid.

"GO!" He screams at Peter, and in that moment, he's running too, grabbing the boy's wrist and pulling. If Peter doesn't move, Héctor's going to lose an arm and they both might just lose more than that.

The one good thing about this mess: Peter is already too freaked out to really react at Héctor's flesh dissolving. His eyes are fixed on Ben transforming into a fucking monster. Some horrified noise builds in his throat, not quite escaping it; he can't stop staring at the thing wearing his uncle's face. That is his uncle on some horrible level that he can't even imagine right now.

"I - but --"

But nothing. The thing is lunging for the both of them, and Héctor is grabbing at his wrist, and - and it's Héctor that decides it for him really. Alone he might try to deal with this thing. But he knows Héctor will be destroyed if he tries to face it head on. He turns and runs instead, following Héctor's pull. Just fucking beelining for wherever the hell it is they're going.

Behind them, the Hollow lets out another roar of rage. It explodes out from the gazebo, sending wood flying everywhere as it starts to chase them. Getting bigger and bigger as it goes.

"Vamos! Vamos, vamos, vamos!" It's less a command and more a fearful chant. He dares glance back, grateful to see Peter behind him but far less so to see the monster chasing after.

He flinches as wood splinters and the thing roars but he doesn't stop. They're moving fast but it's going to catch up to them. He's got an idea. Two, but he hopes he can hold off on plan b.

"Peter! If you've got your web shooters you have to shoot him! Aim for his eyes! Make sure he doesn't see us!" And if he doesn't... if he doesn't he hopes he can find the strength to do this and keep running.

Oh right, he can actually turn and fight, can't he? Amazing how being confronted with his dead uncle instantly reverts him to Peter Parker rather than Spider-Man, despite the obvious supernatural bullshit going on. He stops briefly, turning back to look at the horror currently scuttling behind him.

And. Stops a moment more. "Which ones?" he yells back. "All of them?" Because this thing has Ben's form up top but a spider-like shape underneath, including a cluster of dark, beady arachnoid eyes. It's the world's worst centaur and he hates his life.

Nevermind, he's not going to waste time waiting for an answer. It's a good thing that Peter is always and perpetually wearing his webshooters, even late at night like this. He thwips out with the first one gumming up Ben's face. The second shot hits one side of the creature's arachnid face and blinds it with webs. This one is still attached, though; Peter grabs the line and uses it to slam the thing down into the pavement with all his ridiculous strength. Not enough to stop it, no, but enough to stun it for a second. He just hopes Héctor has a better plan than just running and hiding.

He looks back at Peter both frightened and incredulous. Thankfully, it seems he doesn't have to answer that. He watches Peter knock out first his Tío's vision, then the spider's. He's not expected Peter to hang on though. He's certainly less prepared to watch the boy slam the monster down.

Amazing it might be, he doesn't waste a second from there. Peter's tugged forward again and he runs as straight a path as he can for the town, praying the thing loses them in the trees or something. At least long enough.

The extended part of his plan forms about after they can get away from the creature, though he wouldn't say it's due in any part to his fear clearing up. He looks around them just to be sure it's nowhere near and it won't hear them.

"There's a place in town, old antique shop, regular stuff, enchanted stuff, all kinds of cursed things. One of those things is a really, really powerful blight repellent. I usually try to steer clear of it but I think we can lose this guy if we make it to the back alley next to it." He glances back, meeting Peter's eyes apologetically before he warns, "It's going to hurt."

But it might hurt that thing more.

In case Héctor forgot he's dealing with a stupidly strong kid for a second there. How heavy is that monster? A literal ton? And he just slammed it down like it was nothing.

Anyway, they've got more important things to think about. Peter takes a split second to attach one more web to the monster, this time connecting it to the ground. It won't keep the thing bound for long, but it should buy them enough time to make something of a clean getaway. He - he needs a moment to think. How to handle this, how to get his uncle back without killing the monster. Or just letting it loose to rampage through Soleil. God, this is not what he'd planned on doing tonight...

As soon as Héctor mentions the antique shop, he winces. "I think I know which one you're talking about," he says. "They've got this reinforced dumpster, right?" Not that breaking a lock is particularly hard for Peter, but a) that's too close to stealing for his tastes, b) it's unnecessary property damage, and c) that place makes his head fucking hurt. Yeah. So. He knows what Héctor means, but he doesn't like this plan. He's pretty sure that anything that makes Peter feel kind of gross is going to be twenty times worse for Héctor. But what else can he do? He certainly doesn't have a better plan okay.

"Let's - let's try it," he says, nodding after a moment. "I can get us there faster." He offers a hand to Héctor. Ready to go for a swing?

Stupidly strong, yes, but still stupidly mortal as far as he knows. That monster is after Peter whereas he's nothing more than a toothpick in the way. He doesn't want to be crushed to powder but he can hold plenty of fear for himself while still holding more for Peter.

He nods quickly, confirming Peter's suspicion with a grimace. He can tell Peter's not a fan-- who would be?-- but it's the best he's got.

Peter's offered hand has him looking up and down in confusion at first as he tries to connect the dots of what, exactly, Peter means here. It clicks and there's a solid oh no in his absent throat, in the expression on his face, but he breathes deep, takes Peter's hand, and braces. God, his bones are too loose these days for these kinds of things! His eyes close and he pours every ounce of focus he has into holding together. At least he'll be even lighter for Peter than he'd been before.

He's really, really sorry in advance for anything that falls off in transit. And also any dents he might put in Héctor's bones with those stupidly strong hands of his. But right now, they need to get the hell out of here, and swinging is the fastest way to do it.

After a moment spent bracing himself too, he flicks out a web with his other hand. It sails towards the nearest building, gripping there - and then that's it, they're off, no turning back now. It's awkward trying to do this while holding another person, but Héctor is light, at least, and Peter is very strong. He shifts from having his hand on Héctor's arm to sort of putting the arm around him instead? Weird to do when Héctor is literally just a skeleton, but he's trying to get as much of Héctor to get to their destination safely as he can.

Behind them, the monster strains against the webs. First the one snaps, and then the other. The webs on its eyes are still blinding it, but it's moving now, roving around with its remaining eyes, trying to find its prey. Peter can't spare even a moment to focus on it, given the swinging and his passenger. All he can do is go as fast as he can and hope it doesn't catch them. Any distractions are gonna be on Héctor.

He'll take dents, he'll take so many dents if they survive this for whatever given amount of survival they can do. His body wants to shake with terror, in all truth, but he tries to hold himself steady and in one piece.

But he hears the creature shift behind them and he can just see past Peter enough. It's getting up. Oh God, they're still a block away, they need more time and they don't have it.

"Oh God," He says aloud, voice half a sob. He pulls a sharp breath, swallowing what fear he can. Then moves. "Peter, I'm going to climb up and hang off your shoulder! Hang on to my-- my spine! Oh God..." He does as he's explained, moving up until he's got his rib cage even to Peter's head. He reaches for his arm and pops it off, pulling it back against his suspenders. Steady. Steady. Breathe steady, Héctor, think about the boy, think about Coco.

With a cry, he lets his arm fly. It goes out stretched, until it land upon the monster. And from what he can control of it, he brings it to claw at those remaining eyes.

"Don't stop, Peter! Don't stop, no matter what!" He shouts, and he turns his gaze back to the monster, holding his breath as he forces his arm to hang on-- until it's torn off. He takes a breath, teeth held together tight as the creature grips the bones of his arm in it's own claws. He doesn't hear it as it happens, from this far away. But he feels it.

His arm cracks sharply in two. Héctor screams. His body goes to hang over Peter's shoulder and back and he whimpers through his teeth as the monster throws his broken arm aside in anger. There's a very distant and bleary relief as he realizes he'll still be able to find it later. The monster's blinded. He won't be able to find it.

He hopes they're close.

Edited 2019-01-27 16:06 (UTC)

"What? Are you crazy--?" But he can't do anything to stop Héctor, and he's sure not going to make this any worse than it already is. He holds onto Héctor's spine, keeping him in place as they swing forward and Héctor flings his goddamn arm at the thing, what the literal hell, he doesn't like this plan. Especially after he hears the bones crunch, even from this distance. He wishes his ears weren't this sharp.

"I'm not stopping!" he yells back, but there's already hurt and guilt in his voice. Good job, Peter, now his skeleton uncle lost an arm because his real uncle decided to try and murder him. 0/5 stars, scathing review on Yelp for the whole experience. But - he's not going to waste this, dammit. While the monster screams and writhes in blind pain, Peter swings them through the city at a blinding pace. The last block passes them by, and finally - finally there's the antique shop that Héctor was talking about. Only Héctor's delicate bones keep Peter from throwing himself bodily at the pavement; as it is he lands rather hard on his knees, still holding Héctor with the other arm so he doesn't have to take the force of the impact.

And there he pauses for a moment. "Where?" he gasps. "Inside?" Or the dumpster? Both are probably locked, but that's not an issue when Peter can just force it open.

He's also already staring at Héctor's missing arm with a ferocious amount of guilt, but. Hide first, feelings later.

He is. He is crazy. He's been crazy for a long time he just hopes it can be the good kind.

His head spins with pain and he's already feeling weak, but he tries to raise his head and then the rest of him when Peter lands upon the ground. His teeth are held together in a tight grimace, but he manages to speak.

"Agai- against the wall. Right- right behind the..." He points to the dumpster with the arm he still has. "They- they keep it just... just on the other side of that wall."

He tries to move himself that way, his power already sparking and flickering with how near they are to whatever that stupid amulet is that's about to save them. He suspects Peter's going to be able to move him faster.

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