The World I Knew [Discontinued]

Comeback

Coming back alive was a very painful process, especially when pulling a Deadpool card with a not-so-high pain tolerance.

Peter's new throat was one of the first things to grow back, but for the first minute or so, it was impossible to breathe, and very sore, like he'd been screaming for four days straight, nonstop. In fact, when he tried to groan, or make any sound in general, it just came out as a weak wheeze, esophagus screaming in pain each time he tried.

He was quickly distracted by the pain of his body growing back organs and muscles, and he did his best to just wait through it.

Everything was almost silent around Peter, save for the occasional groan, or someone shifting somewhere nearby. But he couldn't see anyone from his sprawled position on the floor, so everyone else had probably fallen as well.

Peter allowed himself to slip away into unconsciousness, despite the insistent throb of pain throughout his body that helped the darkness consume him rather quickly.

*****

Waking up was less painful, the second time around.

Peter's throat was still sore, his muscles still weak, and everything else still delicate, but there was one thing... it was really important...

"Hope," he croaked hoarsely, voice broken and weak.

The overwhelming urge to find everyone was what made him move, pain spiking along his body as he shifted slightly, grunting. He moved, trying to loosen up his limbs from the--quite literally--dead asleep state, and slowly wrestled himself to his feet.

It didn't take him long to realize that he was holding something tightly in his hand.

"Take this!" Hope gasped out, grabbing his wrist and yanking it towards her, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. She slammed something hard and circular into his palm, before falling. "G-go, and s-save the world."

She looked up at him, and gave him a grim smile.

"I love you," she said. "Now go save the world."

As if on cue, her body convulsed, and she let out a guttural, inhuman howl. "GO!" she shrieked.

"N-no!" Peter said, frozen with shock, "I'm not--I'm not leaving you! An-and please... don't--don't leave me," he begged.

"Peter," said one of the ILS's urgently, grabbing him by the arm, "we must go."

"NO!" Peter yelled, lurching against their grip to get to Hope, who writhed on the ground, still shrieking. His only feat was being pulled off the ground, and dragged into the Quinjet, yelling and kicking and arguing, while more ILS's converged between him and Hope. "NO! PLEASE, NO!"

Peter struggled to open his hand, as if he'd forgotten how to control his body with how disoriented and uncoordinated he was.

He stared at the ring for a long time.

The ring was cold and hard in his gloved hand as he tightened his grip on it.

He looked up, through the canopy of the Quinjet, up to the sky.

"I promise, Hope," he whispered. "I promise I'll save you."

Peter stared at the ring, letting the memories come in waves as he tried to stand steadily, which proved to be a harder task than it seemed, as his other hand had to fumble for the wall--only to find that there wasn't one there, and fall, very ungracefully, to the floor.

His limbs were no help in saving him from the hard wood that met him, knees and shoulder hurting from having fallen directly on them, and his head pounding, even though it hadn't even touched the floor. His hand was still tightly clasped around the ring, so he put it on, mostly for convenience's sake, and tried again to stand.