Peter Parker | Spider-Man (
made_up_names) wrote in
daybreakacademy2019-01-26 09:08 pm
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hollow plots and zombens
WHO: Peter Parker, Zomben, and all sorts of unlucky people
WHAT: Hollow!Uncle Ben (aka Zomben) has started to show up on campus. There will be an open comment (for generally being chased) as well as specific prompts for pre-plotted encounters.
WHEN: Very late on January 27th, forward dated to later in the week as well.
WHERE: Campus in general, also the gazebo in Soleil.
( Prompts are below so I can set up a general timeline-ish-thing!
katoptron or Rho#9327 if you want me to set up something specific. Or just zoom yourself to the open comment and we'll just have some fun there.
I will match format, so if you prefer prose, prose away! )
WHAT: Hollow!Uncle Ben (aka Zomben) has started to show up on campus. There will be an open comment (for generally being chased) as well as specific prompts for pre-plotted encounters.
WHEN: Very late on January 27th, forward dated to later in the week as well.
WHERE: Campus in general, also the gazebo in Soleil.
( Prompts are below so I can set up a general timeline-ish-thing!
I will match format, so if you prefer prose, prose away! )
no subject
"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.
no subject
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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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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"No, he wouldn't," He does agree by the end. His smile slips a little. "We'll figure this out, okay? I've spent this long trying to work my own...unlife. I'm sure we can find something for him too."
He doesn't know that. He's been trying to find a solution to his own troubles a long time and he's not even dangerous. In fact, he knows, a lot of the time there is no turning back. Death held on tight. It didn't like when people walked scott-free. But at the very least, they can try.
He moves, shuffling back to Peter's side and putting his arm around the boy again. He stares up at the dumpster lid, still flickering sporadically, shuddering and trembling every moment or so, but he's otherwise quiet and still.
Until he says, "We probably shouldn't wait here past sunrise. I don't want you stuck in here with my corpse." And he'd really like to keep his arm, if he can. Not to mention he's sure Peter's head is doing him no kindness right now as far pain goes.
no subject
And in the meantime he has someone else in front of him that he can help right now. Starting by not, y'know, making him turn back into a person while still missing an arm. His spider senses have died down, so he can only hope that means the monster has crawled back into whatever hole it came out of. For now.
"Okay," he says, swiping at his face. At least he gets his tears under control a little more quickly this time "I - I can do that, yeah. There has to be a way." He'd take Ben being a skeleton like Héctor, honestly. That doesn't seem so bad, minus the whole missing arm thing. "Where's your arm? Can you still feel it?"
He's gonna go ahead and start uncrimping the dumpster, though, because his head is just splitting right now. Stupid blight amulet. The sooner they get away from that, the better.
no subject
He laughs softly, ruefully. His head tilts back as he winces. "Oh, yeah," He says. "I feel it." It's out there, radiating worse than the rest of him is right now.
"I think I saw the bushes it go thrown to. I should be able to find it. I just don't really want to tug it right now." Dios, he hopes it will attach alright. "...You wouldn't happen to have any tape would you?"
no subject
But - right, he has a job to do. That helps him focus, which is important right now. He carefully lifts the top of the dumpster, standing up in it. And offering a hand down to Héctor. If he has a headache, then poor Héctor could probably use a hand.
Uh. Literally.
"Oh. Yeah, I do, actually. It's right here in my --" Backpack, he wants to say, but as soon as he reaches for the familiar straps, he realizes that said backpack is currently back at the gazebo. And probably crushed by the Hollow, along with the homework he brought with him. Well. Shit. Can he tell his teachers that a monster ate his homework? Would that actually work here?
no subject
"It's alright, I won't need it yet. But I'm going to need a bit of help... with maybe a few things." He's got one usable hand, a guitar, and a walking stick and...
He pauses, lifting his jacket to peer at the inside pocket. "What do you know? The tests are still here." He laughs helplessly then reaches up for Peter's hand, slowly rising to his feet.
"Thank you," He says. "We'll grab my arm, whatever's left of our things, head back. Sound good?"
no subject
"Yeah, sounds great," he says. He's still kind of traumatized here - and this week is going to suck so bad - but this is a start. "Hopefully it just gave up for now."
He'll go hunting for his uncle later. After he helps Héctor track down his arm. He sort of side-eyes Héctor for a moment - does he need to be carried? Because he could do that.
no subject
He thinks he'll get by without being carried this time, especially the further he gets from this amulet, but maybe a little help standing would be good. For now he focuses on trying to lift his leg up over the dumpster's side and spring himself up to straddle it before turning and sliding out with a wince. He breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn't come apart and therefore doesn't have to pull himself together.
"Hopefully," He agrees. He glances from Peter to the ground and back again. "We'll have to tell someone about this," He points out as gently as he can. "We don't have to say it was your Tío, or any of the other parts, but this could be trouble. A lot of it." For Peter and for who knows how many others. He knows this is beyond his ability. He just hopes Peter's not going to take it all onto himself.
no subject
He winces, though, at Héctor saying they ought to tell someone. That's. Completely correct honestly, and yet. He's not sure anyone else would understand, especially if they don't mention it's Peter's uncle. Wouldn't they just go after the monster instead? "Are you sure?" he asks, uncertain. "You said it yourself before. People don't react well to the undead."
That's why he's keeping Héc's secret, after all.
no subject
"I know," He sighs. "But this is really dangerous. You could've been killed. Others could still be." This is a really messy, ugly situation. There's no risk free way to do any of this. "
"I would rather find a way to help you both but... your uncle and I are dead. We've had our chance. When it's between you and everyone else versus beings like us? The living come first." That's just fact. Children before adults. Living before dead.
"Maybe we can find someone who'll understand. The faculty, for one? A few of them know about me."
no subject
He swallows a bit, nodding. "You were going to get help from someone, right?" he asks. "Did that go well?"
If that person helped Héctor, then they'd have to be trustworthy on this subject too. Right?
no subject
They won't know unless they try. This is lives at stake. The Doctor will understand.
"Señor Ekkehardt. I actually did go to him. He started a mending spell, gave me that cane..." And then he broke himself and probably the cane too. "He knows I'm dead. Promised secrecy and everything. I think he understands how important this stuff is." He just doesn't know how that applies when the undead is actively dangerous.
no subject
"I'll ask him," he says. And. Winces a little. "If he doesn't hate me for undoing all his work."
Sorry about your limbs and cane, Héc.
no subject
"This isn't your fault, mijo. Would be pretty dumb of him to blame any part of this on you. You didn't ask for this to happen." Far from it he's pretty sure. "And technically, this wouldn't have undone his work so much as... given him a new project." Not that he's super thrilled at the idea of having to explain this himself. Still. Priorities.
And speaking of, he's going to just start slowly hobbling his way forward, towards this bushes ahead. He's grateful to see, so far, there's not yet sign of sun on the horizon, and better yet, no sign of any horrible creature lurking in the dark. He's not sure he'll be able to run like he did again.
When they reach the bushes and those twinges of pain get sharp, he begins to search. Only to soon recall that it's hard to find things in the dark. He sucks a deep breath, closes his eyes and feels out for his arm. The upper piece goes flying back in place, snapped near clear around the end of it save for a crack that works it's way up. The other half flies up after and he catches it with his other hand before it can even try to attach itself. He releases a shuddering breath, bent nearly double for a second before he rises back up. He gives both parts of his arm a once over.
"Okay," He says. "It's not as bad as it could be." He dares to move his detached fingers and bites back a noise of pain. But they do, in fact, move. "D-definitely not as bad. Lets go get our stuff."
no subject
(But Héctor calls him mijo again and. He'd be lying if that didn't bring him a lot of comfort right now.)
"All right," he says reluctantly. "I guess we can explain both things at once." It'll be better if Ekkehardte knows Héctor did this helping someone else, right? Right.
He helps Héctor search for a moment, then stands back to watch him push the arm back in. That. Ow. He wines sharply, rubbing at his own arm in sympathy pain. Being undead sure is a problem huh. "I don't see how it could be worse," he says, heading back towards the ruined gazebo. "Unless you couldn't find it at all."
no subject
He bobs his head, a distant horror in his eyes at the memory of that. He'd never wished to be able to pass out quite like back then.
"Even Ekkehardt couldn't fix that. But this, even if it can't be fully healed, I could tape this in place. But, yes, we could probably explain this to him at once." Ekkehardt might not officially be faculty but he's still probably more capable and responsible than both of them together.
"Though not finding it, that would be pretty bad too. Less painful at some point but... you know. I like limbs."
no subject
"Uh, I like limbs too," he says. "And I don't really wanna find out what happens if I attach a full prosthetic to a magical skeleton." Would it get covered in flesh? Would Héctor just have a robot arm? That - would actually be an interesting engineering project, but. Focus, Peter.
He clambers up what's left of the gazebo and fishes his backpack out of the wreckage. Well ... the good news is that the tape seems all right, so he pulls it out. The bad news is that the monster skewered a hole through his backpack, so. Uh. Yep. That's a ruined set of homework. At least the practice notebook was shoved aside, so that's intact. Not so much his exercises and the textbook itself. Sigh.
"Lemme at least get it back in place," he says, holding up the tape. "That's the least I can do."
Since this is kind of his fault and all.
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