daybreakacademy | hollow plots and zombens

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.

Hang on, Héctor, he's got you. He hates that they have to get this freaking amulet that's clearly going to hurt Héctor and also himself, but is there any other way to do it? They need a place to hide and regroup where the Hollow won't find him. Is the influence of the amulet enough to reach through the wall? He can definitely feel it. Maybe that's enough to cover them without having to actually break into this shop.

So - still holding onto Héctor, he bursts the padlock on the dumpster and throws it open. Luckily for them it seems to be mostly clean; Peter shoves the rest of it out onto the ground, sorry about your mess. Then he shoves it back up against the wall, right up to the spot where the amulet is. Good enough. Going to have to work.

"C'mon," he says climbing into the dumpster with Héctor. "Almost there. Stay with me..." He carefully puts the skeleton down against one of the few remaining bags of garbage; it seems reasonably soft and not gross. And then he turns back to the lip of the dumpster, carefully grabbing the edges of the lid and crimping it down. There. Now nothing can get in here for a hot second.

He makes no comment as Peter works, breaking the padlock, moving the heavy dumpster. He just keeps his watch between Peter and the entry to that alleyway, just in case the creature catches up.

He can't help but laugh a little at Peter's gentle pleading. "I'm not going anywhere," He assures. "Already dead." He's dropped down onto garbage and he winces a little and exhales heavy.

Though it goes pitch black as the lid shuts, that doesn't long. The shimmers and flickers off his trembling bones illuminate the inside. He watches the lid, listening close and careful for the sounds of the monster, and his head goes over a prayer he can hardly remember.

The amulet in that shop is already making him ache through his bones, building like a fever, but he says nothing. He simply... waits.

It's in a long enough silence that his eyes finally drop to meet Peter's. Everything hits then and he finds himself unable to really speak.

That was Ben.

That was Peter's dead uncle, torn apart like that, saying those cruel and terrible things.

That was him turning into a monster.

And Peter saw it all.

"...I'm sorry. I'm so... so sorry."

Peter's head starts to throb instantly too. Héctor said it was anti-blight, right? So - that makes sense, damn it all. But it's better than being out there with the monster. His spider-senses flare a few times when the thing comes a little too close for comfort, but ... with the amulet nearby, with the monster blinded for now, it can't really find them. Not while they stay cooped up in here.

So - so for the moment, they're safe. Peter doesn't have to focus on not dying and can instead focus on ... on ...

He slumps against the side of the dumpster, just folding in on himself for a moment. He wants to tell himself that that was some kind of illusion, some weird monster just borrowing Ben's face? But the details. The marks, everything he'd said ... He can't meet Héctor's gaze in return. He has to lower his face down into his hands, where he sort of claws at his own face for a second. Breathe. He has to just breathe for a second here.

"It was him," he says miserably. "It was really him. He - he knew how he died."

The marks, the accusation. God. He presses his hands in closer, the first breaths of a sob rattling in him.

"I never told anyone the whole story. He knew all of it."

He didn't really doubt. Not at the heart of things. Still, it makes him feel sick to hear it. He can't even imagine how Peter feels...

He pushes himself so slow, sliding his trembling and aching bones across that steel floor. He stops by Peter's side and reaches an arm over him.

"Come here, Chamaco. I got you," He says. He grips Peter's shoulder tight, then lifts that same hand to push back the boy's hair before settling down over his shoulder again.

"You don't have to tell me what happened. If it's too hard for you, you don't have to." He's seen enough, heard enough, to have an idea anyway. Dislike for lycans, the scars he saw, Peter's thought that it's his own fault. He doesn't need to see how it connects in Ben's death. He can see how it connects in Peter like fractures in glass.

"I don't know how this happened, and I won't tell you that wasn't your uncle. But Peter, your uncle loved you. You know that. You told me that. Whatever happened to him, this isn't him-- not what he thinks, not what he really feels. This world, it's amazing but it's dangerous and it is so easy to lose yourself in so many ways. You have to know this isn't what he would've wanted. Don't you dare let yourself believe a word that's been said."

He's shaking a little. By some feat of strength (or weakness?), he's managing not to cry here, though he's close. He's just so dazed and pained and - Héctor's missing his arm now, and they're in a dumpster fighting off magic that actively hurts them because his uncle is a monster and prowling around outside. And that's before he gets to anything the thing even said here. Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.

"I know," he manages after a moment. He's gulping down the words, somehow forcing them around the lump in his throat. "I know he loved me. But - I hurt him at the end, Héctor. I saw the lycan kill him. If I'd come back even five minutes earlier ... "

Then Ben wouldn't be out looking for him, or Peter could have saved him directly, or - or, or, there's so many possibilities that don't end in his uncle's murder. Any of them would have worked. "He's right," he finishes miserably, putting his head down to his knees. "I don't belong here. Maybe I should have let him do whatever he came here to do." He'd deserve it at this point, surely.

There's a moment relief, but it's short lived. He's shaking his head even before Peter tries to say--

"Don't," He says. The word is a little choked in his own throat. He shakes his head more and the moves, getting to his knees to face the boy.

"Peter, look at me. Look at me." His hand reaches out, trying to lift Peter's head, to cup the side of his face with a skeletal hand. He looks pained, but not because of his arm or the amulet.

"We make mistakes. Sometimes we're too late. And I know how hard that is to accept. I can understand if sometimes you feel like... there's something broken that no one else can see like you can." Something deeper than just being a general mess on a daily basis. Something hurting and maybe a little rotten.

"But he's wrong. And so are you. Your uncle wouldn't want this in his right mind. Your Tía loves you. You've got your friends here and where you came from, who think the world of you, who wouldn't know what to do without you. You mean so much, too much to say things like that. You went through something terrible and that can be so heavy, that burden, that guilt. We know. But no matter what happens to any of us, if we're truly ourselves, then I promise. We would want you here. We love you, mijo."

Edited 2019-01-28 03:36 (UTC)

Héctor understands, doesn't he? He understands too well the sort of regret that eats you alive from the inside. It's that understanding that really gets through to Peter, that helps pierce through the fog of misery that seeing his uncle has put him into. He opens his mouth to protest - to say that it's really that bad, that it's worse than Héctor thinks - but closes it again after a moment.

Mijo. He knows what that word means. Uncertain that he's earned it yet, but it makes his eyes fill with tears anyway. Here come the water works again. This is the second time he's cried on Héctor, and he's kind of sorry about that? But this dumb school and their ridiculous shenanigans have forged something here. He'd be an idiot to deny that bond now.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning into Héctor's hand after a moment. Head bowed a little. "I wouldn't - I don't want Aunt May or anyone else to worry." He's serious about that too. Ben hadn't tripped over some nascent urge inside his head, other than his ever present guilt. Normally Peter's a fairly stable kid. But having your uncle essentially threaten to kill you will stir up all kinds of ugliness. "He wouldn't have wanted me to worry any of you either."

So that couldn't have been Ben. Not Ben in his right mind, anyway. Peter is still certain that that's still his uncle under there, deep down. But he's willing to believe that something's wrong. Something he could help with; some way he could save him.

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