Peter PoV
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Harry had gone to bed hours ago, but I couldn't sleep now. I was going to die. Just like the other test subjects, things were sticking to any of my exposed skin, my reflexes had been enhanced, and I no longer needed glasses. Well, maybe not that last part. I'm pretty sure the mice didn't have glasses, at least the journals don't say anything about it.
The only real differences between me and the other test subjects wete that I was human, and I wasn't dead yet. I should've died six hours and thirty-nine minutes ago.
It was 1:07 AM, three hours and seven minutes past curfew, but Harry and I were given special permission to stay up late and study the information we'd acquired from Oscorp. It was genius, all of it, combining the abilities of spider with the intelligence of man.
I fumbled to pick up another journal.
August 12th 2004
Richard Parker
I dropped the book. Richard Parker, I thought, Richard Parker! My father.
I leaned over and picked up the old journal. It's cover was worn, it's pages were beginning to yellow, and the ink inside it was fading. But, I could just read the words.
Today I implanted the human DNA into the spiders.
The results have been encouraging.-
I continued to read, not wanting to set it down. It was all I had of my father, or, at least, I was pretty sure it was my father. How many Richard Parkers could there be?
That's when it hit me, why would my father be working with Oscorp? Why would he be trying to create biological weapons?
I ran my hand through my hair, big mistake.
My hand stuck to my hair as I tried to pull free. It took some time, but I eventually got removed my hand from my head. I didn't pull a chunk of my hair out, I cannot express how relieved I was. I was in a sticky and confusing situation. Both metaphorically and literally.
My hands seemed to stick at random, or just at the most inconvenient times. I decided to practice my weaponry and headed out to the practice tent.
When I arrived, I saw Clint shooting his bow and arrow. He was hitting the same spot, over and over. Splitting arrow after arrow.
"Clint?" I asked. Clint snapped to face me and aimed in my direction. I held my hands up in surrender, and he lowered his bow.
"Hey, Pete," He smiled.
"Hi," I didn't really know what to say.
"Couldn't sleep?" He questioned.
I nodded, "You?"
"I come out here most nights," He shrugged, "It's.......Calming."
I felt uncomfortable; I'd never been the best at small talk. To my relief, Clint motioned for me to grab a bow and join him.
I pulled back, aimed, and shot. My arrow just missed the exact center, again.
"Slow down." Clint said, "You're going too fast. You can't rush it."
I looked at him in confusion. "Am I supposed to sit there for five minutes when I'm on a mission?"
Clint shook his head and began to explain, "You're not ready for that. Now, show me your fencing abilities."
He threw me a sword from the weapons table and grabbed one for himself.
The sword was well-balanced in my hands.
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Clint looked at me in amazement. Both of us were drenched in sweat.
"You've improved," He exclaimed.
I nodded, "I've been practicing," I lied.
He looked at me suspiciously for a moment before nodding.
"Good job."
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Word Count: 592
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it.
-Ambertail Out-
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The Circus
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