daybreakacademy | hollow plots and zombens

Humans always run.

[His glowing eyes narrow with annoyance as the web fluid spatters against his mask. Peter might be strong, but he's light. And up here, in this place, there's something very important that he lacks.]

[Leverage.]

[He rears back and swings his massive head around, attempting to yank Peter off his feet and sling him bodily into the brick chimney of the spacious dorm.]

You have guts, but not enough brains to use them. Surely you have to know you can't defeat my by yourself.

[ It's all about leverage, isn't it? The boy can lift a freight train probably, but not if he can't get his feet under him on the ground. He goes flying on the web, impacting with the chimney and sliding down. Poor chimney; it's probably cracked now from the force of the impact of Peter hitting it.

He ... really can't win here, can he? He should get help. He could text someone--

A chill of horror goes through him as he realizes he has texted someone. Héctor, in fact, who is probably on his way up without knowing what he's about to walk into. Peter needs to do something quick. Distract this thing maybe? ]

And if you just wanted to kill me, you could just do it. So - what are you actually here to do?

[ He struggles back onto his feet, webshooters ready. If Fisher comes at him again, he'll react. ]

...Hnn.

[Perhaps he should reconsider his first assessment. He assumed Peter would be too panicked or angry to think clearly, but he knows there's an alternative. Grand Fisher prowls, circling, but keeping the same distance away. He, too, seems poised to react, though it's hard to judge the tension of his muscles when they're hidden under that thick wiry coat of sienna hair.]

Consider it a test. I'm reconsidering whether I should devour you and absorb your powers, or make you one of my own. How about it? Do you have a preference?

[ Peter Parker: Not Actually As Dumb As He Looks, Sometimes.

This is an odd standstill to be at, but he'll take it. While doesn't have much control over his spider senses, he can sort of dial them up in a situation like this? They're already jangling at him, so he just sort of directs them to key into Fisher specifically. Don't warn him about anything else. He needs to focus.

That's - harder to do when this thing says something completely bonkers. One of this thing's own? What? ]

Like Uncle Ben? How? He's dead.

[ And given what he's seen or heard about the other Hollows, he's pretty sure being dead is a non-negotiable prerequisite. ]

And you believe I couldn't make you so myself?

[His shoulders bunch up as he hunches in a predatory fashion.]

Serve me, and you will at least keep some semblance of who you are. Of course, we would have to eliminate that girl who undid my work. This isn't the kind of deal you're allowed to break.

[There's a hiss of displeasure in his voice at the mention of Uncle Ben's restoration. That really pissed him off.]

But if you prefer it, I'll just eat the entirety of your soul, and use your image to lure others into my grasp. The results, in the end, are the same.

[ There really isn't any way to tempt him on that subject. The thought of willingly agreeing to become a monster to hurt other people is abhorrent to him on its face; Fisher would have to offer him Ben to even move the needle, and he knows for sure that his uncle is safe now. Healed and - well, not alive again, obviously, but a ghost that Peter can talk to. He can hardly hope for a better outcome than that.

But when this thing mentions Orihime, his blood just boils. Like he'd do anything except protect her with his life after what she did to help him. Like he'd turn on one of his closest friends here just to avoid becoming a mindless monster. There was no hope of making a deal with him to begin with, but Fisher sure torpedoed even the smallest chance right then and there. ]

Over my dead body.

[ He slings out a web at the thing's tangle of hair, bracing himself by sticking to the chimney with the other. ]

You already are!!!

[A bloodthirsty roar tears out of the monster's gaping mouth as it rushes toward Peter, bounding in a zig-zag back-and-forth pattern as it closes in.]

Stitched back together with magic and promises! Only your stupid disbelief keeps you from rotting on the spot!

[He's not a violent man. He's seen death's face and he wasn't interested in introducing it to anyone else. He was never that kind of person in the first place and upon coming here he didn't once consider the combat classes or anything close.

He wishes he had.

Peter's text tells of meeting his uncle, but Peter, though he's come to care dearly about this kid, doesn't think. Namely about the context a text like that has without knowing his Uncle's been healed. He grabs two borrowed tools he'd been using for repairs-- a hammer and a screwdriver-- and darts out the door without his cane. Though he should be dead, his heart feels like it's racing faster than he is.

It takes too long to get there. His imagination pulls up scene after scene of things he can't stomach-- too easy, far too easy with all he's seen in the outlands.

And then he makes it to the roof. That thing isn't Ben. Not even the monster of him. It doesn't matter. And he doesn't need to know Japanese to tell whatever's being said isn't good.]

PETER!

[The monster rushes Peter and with a cry he pulls back an arm and throws that hammer at the beast's back.]

[ Peter, meanwhile, is screeching to a halt mentally. That first bit is just supervillain banter - who hasn't told him he's already dead, honestly? - but that second bit. That's alarmingly specific, just enough to make him doubt for a split second. Héctor arrives just in time to see a telltale flicker go through Peter. Héctor more than anyone likely recognizes it. Not so dissimilar from the glow that accompanies his shift from skeleton to living, and vice versa.

But it doesn't last. Peter manages to shake off his doubt, and the fragile spell keeping him alive restabilizes. (He's alive, right? He has to be. May would have said something. Gwen would have said something. That last part bolsters him more than anything else.

And then he realizes Héctor is here. Here and throwing a hammer at this thing? Seriously? ]

-- Héctor! You've gotta get out of here!

[ He panics a little, realizing that Fisher almost certainly will go after Héctor if it can't hurt Peter. Héctor's actually dead, after, all, as opposed to Peter clearly being alive.

He attaches one web to the chimney and swings down, newly vitalized by the fact that Héctor is in danger here, dammit. He's gonna try to slam into Fisher from one side and knock him towards the edge of the roof. ]

[Ping! The hammer bounces off of the monster's bony mask, earning a flinch of surprise. Grand Fisher turns, and there's pleasure gleaming in those crimson slitted eyes.]

Gyehhhh...it's about time.

[Now Peter probably realizes why this thing was stalling for so long, because he looks absolutely wild with hunger and pleasure the second Hector is spotted. There will be no more toying, no more teasing. They're both going to get ripped apart and devoured.]

[Grand Fisher scrabbles up the slope of the roof, claws dislodging tiles as he bounds up toward Hector, only to catch a spider-kick to the side. He snarls as he skids, and a clawed hand shoots to catch Peter's leg. If he goes over, he'll drag the boy with him, and they'll find out which of them is more physically equipped to survive that kind of fall.]

[ He winces himself as the Hammer does practically nothing. But more pressing for a second is the way Peter glimmers like that. His breath catches, eyes going even wider.

No. No, he's hallucinating. It's stress, he's scared for the boy.

He's scared for himself, and as fisher turns on him he gets the feeling it's a justified fear.

Still, it's not enough to overpower the fear of what could happen to Peter. He runs to the both of them, monster and boy alike and quickly grasps the monster's arm as they start to tilt over the side. The screw driver goes up and swings down into that clawed hand holding Peter's leg.

Worst case, he's more physically equipped to fall than anyone here. ]

[ The very instant that thought crosses Héctor's mind, Peter glimmers again. Gold rippling through him, his silhouette seeming to flake briefly. This time that shimmer seems to unsteady him a bit, dizzying him at a critical moment. The claws sink in, bringing him back to himself with a cry of pain; the flicker disappears again and he's back to normal. He flails for the roof as Fisher drags him down, bloodying his fingers as he digs them into the into the roof tiles. At least he's very, very good at sticking; it buys Héctor a precious moment to go after the claw with his screwdriver.

There's something profoundly both profoundly wrong with and profoundly right about getting saved by someone equipped only with a screwdriver. He can at least add to the blow by kicking at Fisher, trying to make the thing let go.

They - need help. It's clear Peter isn't strong enough to fight this thing, especially if it's going to come back and start eating people. And if Peter can't beat him, Héctor sure can't. ]

[Of all the things that could have happened next, being stabbed with a screwdriver by a plucky dead janitor wasn't exactly high on the list. The pain is sudden and sharp, something Grand Fisher isn't used to experiencing. He's always ambushed his prey and killed it before it ever had time to fight back. So this is new.]

[He twists and wriggles with a snarl of Japanese curses, clawed fingers slipping and sending his bulk tumbling to the ground below. He hits with a heavy thud...but he seems fine. He raises himself up, tilting his head as he eyes the two up above. Then his attention turns toward the row of darkened first floor windows.]

[A long, beastly tongue runs over his teeth, and he starts forward. He'll make them come to him, and if they don't, then one way or another he's going to eat somebody.]

[He manages to dodge the monster's grasp and save Peter too. It's not bad for the exact zero of anything he expected to be capable of. He goes to the boy immediately, drawing him back from Fisher so the monster can't renew his grip. Hanging on to Peter simply out of need to protect.

Which is when he looks to the boy, even before that thud sounds. He can mistake it once, but not twice, and not after it seeing it visibly affect the the kid. His brows furrow and his mind races, trying to put this together as he takes in all the injuries he can actually see. There's a lot of them. Is that gold he saw some part of his power? Is he going to see it when people are dying now? ]

Oh god, Peter...

[He pulls the boy close for a second, cradling his head to his chest before letting go and then quickly stepping to the edge of the roof where he can see Fisher getting up. That tongue couldn't be anything but a threat. He looks back to Peter and speaks in a rush.]

You're not well. I don't know if you just saw that but you need to get help, now. No web slinging, just go as fast as you can without tearing your wound. Don't come back to help, just send someone and get yourself looked after do you understand? I don't want any arguments!

[He knows they're coming. But he's not going to give Peter a chance. Peter's life might be at stake here and so are others.

He lets go again, walking to the edge and glancing back. He remembers joking with Gwen, speaking of how there was an easy way down with that kind of power... but he's not all to eager to face what's at the bottom. He steels himself.]

I'm going to jump. I'll distract it as long as I can. Please, do what I said.

[And if Peter doesn't manage to stop him, he'll be going to that edge and leaping off, setting off his power as he goes so he can scatter in light pieces on the ground below. Then try and distract the beast.]

Edited 2019-02-03 04:13 (UTC)

[ He doesn't look great, no. For a moment all he can do is lean against Héctor as the flicker passes over him, as he clings to the roof with the foot that isn't torn the hell up. The hole in his shoulder is not going to heal fast even with his healing factor, and his leg is clawed to hell and back courtesy of Fisher dragging him to the edge of the roof. But - his factor is still working, at least, as evidenced by the way the scrapes on his hands quickly seal over and fade to raw but healthy skin. The other wounds are improving too, just. Slower. He's not dying.

(But that just means something else is going on, isn't it. That flicker has vanished for now, but it was undeniably there. Peter stumbled when the last one went through him.)

In any case he's too stubborn to listen to reason here. Clearly Héctor is just reacting to the two (admittedly) terrible wounds, unused to what a superhero like him has to deal with. He's had worse. Fought supervillains with worse. When he can move again - when that strange nausea finally fades and he's able to sit up again - he struggles to sit up on his own. ]

I'm fine. I'll heal, it's fine! Just give me a minute --

[ And then Héctor very distinctly does not give Peter a minute. The idiot throws himself off the roof to distract this thing and - oh god, he can't do this. Even if he were dying or something he couldn't just run off while Héctor is down there, doubly imperiled by this undead creature wanting to eat or turn both of them.

He curses, loudly, and aims a web at Fisher. Multiple, in quick succession, trying to anchor the creature in any way he can. It's sort of like dealing with an enormous version of his uncle, right? He can't defeat this thing, but he can constrain him, probably. And then they can get help. A web trying to hold the thing down by a claw, another for its head, for its torso. Meanwhile Peter is coming down too. Not to protect Héctor specifically, but to scratch the first shield rune into the dirt. He needs three total to get the shield up, to try to lock Fisher in. It's awkward doing anything when he basically can't use one leg and one arm, but his adrenaline keeps him going regardless. ]

Are you insane? Héctor, you can't fight it!

[ Or distract it for that matter. Not for long. ]

Edited 2019-02-03 04:22 (UTC)

You think I can't see what you're doing?

[A crimson claw juts out of the matted fur to tear up the ground, uprooting strands of webbing while slinging clumps of dirty snow and frozen mud at Peter's face.]

[Then he jams a heavy foot down onto one of Hector's scattered bones to crush it under his weight.]

[His bones had clattered apart upon the earth but it had only taken seconds before he'd gotten to work pulling them back together. This thing wants to attack someone, it can attack him. He can do this. He just needs to find his last arm.

Only he's distracted them, looking up to see Peter work and then swing do to join him. With his left arm he waves Peter off.]

Peter, I told you to get out of here! You've got to find a healer! You're flickering like one of the--

[Dead.

Before he can speak the word, before the thought even fully clicks in his own mind, Fisher speaks. And then he finds out where exactly his right arm went.

To break a bone is one thing. To have it shatter, crushed to dust and able to feel each broken splinter of it, is an entirely different story. He's not sure if he screams-- if he does, it's more of an agonized howl. He just knows that he drops on the spot, a string-cut puppet, unable to speak through the pain of that, breath a sob as Fisher's foot grinds down. His body flickers and shakes.]

[ It's good that Héctor doesn't quite connect the last dot in that moment. Doing so would cause Peter to falter and flicker again - nearly does so now, regardless, with Héctor so agonizingly close. But instead he comes short, and.

Peter goes absolutely bloodless as Fisher's foot comes down. He sees the splinter of bone, hears Héctor howl with pain and anguish. Here he is, useless, while his newly adopted family member is getting the shit kicked out of him by a monster that came after Peter to begin with. Hadn't he wished so many times that he could save his uncle? That he could have used his powers for good?

Sheer, unfiltered rage goes through him, blotting out everything else. How dare Fisher hurt Héctor. How dare he do any of this, but - mostly, how dare he try to take Héctor away from him. Despite his strength, Peter is not one for direct violence. He's strong, yes, but careful. Cautious. Not so now. His clawed leg is still weak under him, and his shoulder still inflamed with pain, but - for a moment, he forgets all that.

He lunches at Fisher with all his strength, putting everything into a massive blow aimed directly at the creature's face. And - if he can, he'll keep going. Anything to make this thing regret coming here, to make it back off and turn and flee. ]

One down.

[Then there's an enraged teenage boy flying into him. His head rocks back with the full force of the punch, and it's unpleasant.]

[But it's not lethal. Peter might just as well punch foot-thick marble, that mask isn't going to break easily. And what's worse, Grand Fisher fights back. It's a mess of mangled fur and slashing claws, those horrible flat teeth gnashing and snapping to get a bit of Peter any way he can.]

[He moves to roll Peter onto his back and pin him down with his full weight, gripping his arms and leaning down to leer into his face.]

Two.

[His mouth yawns open, ready to rip Peter's soul apart and swallow it.]

[He can't move. He can't think. He can't speak. It hurts. Oh god, that was his arm, he can't just walk that one off, that was his arm. And it's gone. Crushed, surely irreparable. He'll have to hide himself or shift back without it, if he even lives but he's not so sure, as his head lifts up slow and he watches, blearily, as Peter tries to wail down upon the monster.

It's not working. Peter's going to die. That thought breaks through the pain, a sickening and horrible thing.]

No. [His voice is little more than a croak at first. He watches those jaws open wide.] NO! No! Please! Please, don't hurt him! He's just a boy! He's just a boy!

[Body still trembling, he tries to rise.] Don't...Don't hurt him! You can have me!

Edited 2019-02-03 07:10 (UTC)

[ He thought he was doing pretty well there for a second. He lands a full blow on Fisher, making the thing reel with pain. But - as soon as he makes contact with that mask, he realizes that even his incredible strength isn't enough. That mask isn't budging. It doesn't so much as crack as Peter puts his full strength into it. He's missing a piece of the puzzle here. A weapon, or a type of magic, or ...

It doesn't matter now. The thing pins him again, this time with its full weight. His enhanced strength and durability saves him from dying outright, but Fisher chokes all the breath out of him, leaving him helpless and wordless. So this is it, huh. He's going to die right here and now. It's a strangely comforting thought, now that it's here; it narrows everything down to a single point. He's going to die, which means his only priority is making sure Héctor lives.

He doesn't even look horrified when Héctor offers himself up (though the horror seeps in regardless; he will be terribly upset with Héctor when this is all done, and also kind of touched). It just gives him more clarity, much as the rage had a moment before. Summoning up the last of his strength, he manages to get one wrist free. It won't help himself; his shoulder is shot, and worsening the more that Fisher puts weight on him. His ribs are cracked and he can't breathe. So, instead of calling out to Héctor, he just looks at him. Aching, apologetic, his eyes starting to tear up. He's so sorry, Héctor. He wishes this could end any other way.

His arm trembling from the effort, he slings a web at Héctor's chest. And once that's made contact, he slings the other end of it at the wall of Lumière across the way. In his head he's aiming for Imelda's window - if anyone can save Héctor from his own stupidity, it must be her - but by now he's so dizzy from pain and lack of air that it's all he can do to have the other side of the line connect with Lumière at all. The line tugs Héctor along, away from Fisher, towards safety. Not far enough to keep him from witnessing whatever happens next, no. But maybe far enough to buy him a chance. ]

[Hector's please fail to move the literally heartless being. If anything Fisher finds it annoying to offer up what he was going to eat anyway. No, Peter had to be eaten first, he was too fast, too wily. Hector was much easier to take out of the picture.]

Time to eat.

[Peter's demise comes with a deep boom that resonates through the marrow of his bones...Hector's too...and a blinding flash of blue-tinged light that punches through the evening darkness. And then there's a lightness in his chest. He's free...]

[And he hasn't been eaten.]

[Grand Fisher is now several yards away, a deep track having torn up the snow and winter grass where he was forcefully blown off of his prey.]

[Standing on the lawn, holding a cement tube inscribed with glowing azure runes on his shoulder, is Uncle Ben almost quaking with fury.]

Get the hell away from my kid.

[He doesn't wait for Grand Fisher to get his feet underneath him again before a second blast lances through the air and pounds into the monster, leaving him howling in pain as he turns and frantically flees the school. The damn thing is fast, and he's not sticking around. That weapon actually hurt him, and he leaves behind spatters of blackish blood that hiss in the snow.]

[The monster's not moving. The boy is looking at him in that sad, scared way that he wishes so bad he didn't know as well as he did, that he wishes more he didn't have to see now, here, on this boy who's come to mean so much in so little time. He can't bear this, he can't watch, he's got to do something.

But just as he thinks as much, Peter's webbing catches upon his chest, clinging to his shirt and the rest of him.]

No...!

[The next shot goes to Lumière and he's yanked back and up into the air, remaining hand outstretched as he cries out.]

NO! PETER!

[He hits the wall with a wince, then again as that boom swings his dangling frame back against it. His bones ache but he's not thinking about that. Dazed and afraid, he blinks and looks back up to the scene all so far away now.

He's not sure what is he's seeing at first, but it soon clicks. And he laughs, a broken sob of relief. Tío Ben. He doesn't know how the man recovered himself or where he got that weapon but he doesn't care because the boy at Ben's feet is safe now.

He blearly watches as the monster flees the scene, noting the blood left behind. Then he releases a breath, relieved and hanging there a little more limply now and waiting, hoping Ben can help his boy as he simply focuses on breathing despite his shattered arm. Even if Ben was just a ghost, that boom would surely wake someone or other. Peter would be okay.]

[ That's funny, death sure seems kind of loud? He's not sure what he was expecting, but a loud boom wasn't it. Nor the sudden release of weight, or his uncle suddenly shouting? Wait okay, maybe that last part but. Peter's eyes fly open again just in time to see his uncle fire a freaking spirit bazooka at this monster. Terror goes through him for a second - Ben shouldn't be here either, it's dangerous - but that weapon works in a way that Peter's fists couldn't quite touch. The missing piece. Some kind of magic. ]

-- Uncle Ben? How - what -

[ Does it matter? The only thing that matters is that he's still breathing, and Ben is safe, and Héctor -

Oh god Héctor is still missing an arm and also stuck to a wall now. Peter whips his head around for a moment, alarmed. Sorry about that, he'll. Uh. Get you down. Which he can only really do by sending out another web to gently tug Héctor free. For. Certain definitions of gently. Given his own wounds, that's all he can really do; he can barely sit up at all with his ribs causing fresh agony with every breath. ]

I'm sorry. I'm okay. You - you saved me.

[ That's directed at both of them, even Héctor. Obviously Héctor hadn't managed that just now, but he had saved Peter up on the rooftop, so that absolutely counts. More deep, painful breaths. ]

And if you know what's good for you, you won't come back!

[As soon as there's no sight of Peter's attacker, Ben drops the heavy spirit bazooka and moves to support his nephew with an arm behind his shoulders.]

Easy now, buddy, easy...what the hell did that thing do to you?

[He's still pissed, but better, seeing that Peter remains lucid. He turns in Hector's direction, squinting.]

That the uh, the uh...

[He snaps his fingers.]

The skeleton guy, he's the one that was with you that night I attacked, eh? I owe him an apology.

[He'll help Peter amble over to work Hector loose from the web bindings.]

hollow plots and zombens

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