Truly Blind | p. parker

xxvi • true sight

You clamped your eyes shut tight, refusing to watch.

The sound of the bat making contact tore through the warehouse like a bullet.

More tears spilled out down your cheeks as you shook with agony.

But then someone shouted. They were surprised.

"He's dead..." you moaned desperately.

"AH!"

But then... why would they be yelling like that?

Refusing to believe, refusing to hope, you eased one eye open and gasped.

Peter was on his feet, the end of the bat in his hand.

That was what made the sound— Peter had caught it.

Before your very eyes, Peter ripped the bat from Brody's hands and spun it around, knocking into two other men who had rushed forward.

A group of a dozen men surged forward and converged on Peter. He yelled but one by one they each flew back, crashing into walls and slumping to the ground.

Peter was a blur of red and blue, his brown curls hanging in his face; he brushed them away so he could see better.

So he could see better.

Peter could see. That was how he was doing this, surely. He had taken the serum and the promised results were before you. In order to save you he'd sacrificed any other future possibility of sight.

And he was succeeding.

There were no other men to fight but Brody.

He and Peter stood there, walking in a slow circle, facing each other, arms up, ready for the fight.

"I'm impressed, Spider-Man. How did you escape your injuries? Surely not that wizarding cult in the city,"

Peter didn't respond.

"Regardless, it ends here. I should have killed you on that night." He smiled then, glancing over at you through the window. "But maybe it's better this way. I can really have my revenge. Kill you in front of your girl and then keep her as my own." He looked back at Peter. "She'll love it."

"You're dead." Peter spoke out finally.

"Oh, yeah?" Brody laughed. "When'd you figure that?"

"When you took her." You heard him say.

Then they were one, kicking, fighting, punching, yelling. Peter jumped and so did Brody.

"Face it Parker! I'm more than a match for you! What do you gain from resisting?"

Peter ducked under Brody's kick and lurched forward, slamming Brody into the brick wall and watching him slide down, his eyes closing, his limbs going limp.

"Her."

You were positively screaming through the door now.

Peter seemed to notice; he ran towards you.

"Stand back!" He called.

And you knew what he would do.

With a CRASH, the door flew inward off its hinges and hit the back wall.

Peter walked through, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard. "Okay—" He said, straightening up. "Which one is you?"

You raised an eyebrow. What did he mean? But then you glanced around and saw that all the other women had been brought here. They were huddled, terrified, against the walls.