The World I Knew [Discontinued]

The Big Red Button

Unbearable pain nearly sent Peter crashing back down to his knees, any and all breath sent from his chest, into the pulsating atmosphere that exploded with color, swirling in his eyes as he looked to the sky, blinking furiously to see something, anything other than the blinding color that made it impossible to see.

The colors swirled around him, beautiful and horrific.

He didn't have time for this.

He didn't have time for this.

Peter ripped the gauntlet from his hand, not taking the time to gape at his horrifically burned arm, burnt to a crisp like it would break with the slightest pressure. He almost couldn't feel it anymore, but what he could was enough to send sparks to add into the whirl, almost the last straw that would finally defeat him. The nanites were still sizzling, burning into what was left of him.

Blinking away the pain, Peter took the Mind Stone from the gauntlet with his good hand, pressed his burnt arm to his chest, and took off past Thanos's ashes as they fell like horrific snowflakes, dancing in the air until they finally came to settle in a pile on the ground.

The pain was so familiar that at this point, he couldn't feel his ankle's pain as it shot up his leg, though he was aware of it. Despite his injuries, he kept running, knowing fully well that he was about to meet a whole city full of the undead, and unable to care less, because at this point, what did he have to lose? His arm was shot, his ankle was injured, his family was gone, his friends were dead, and the weight world rested on him, on a flash drive and a tiny little stone.

Only he could save everyone, only he could change everything and cure the world, though his arm may very well never have functionality every again.

The stream started in with two of the infected.

He left them behind in a moment. He didn't stop to think whether or not they had seen him in the first place, he just kept running, putting every single ounce of energy and adrenaline he had into each footfall, kicking up dirt, grass, and all sorts of debris as he went, vaulting over tables as he reached a populated area.

He dodged hands everywhere, barely seeing the flashing teeth, the glinting, sunken eyes, the rotting skin that sneered at him, zombies following him as he moved, his feet barely touching the pavement.

A hand caught his left arm, making him gasp out and stumble as pain raced up his arm and into the rest of his body, tumbling to the ground before smoothly moving into a roll, on his feet again in a moment, and shooting a web to try and get above the crowd that threatened to drag him down; though without the use of his left arm, he had no control, making him crash into more than one multi-story building, until finally he caught an unsteady hold, and the web broke off, sending him crashing into the steps of the capitol from a hundred feet up.

Wheezing with agony, and gasping for air, Peter tried to drag himself up, despite his ankle faltering enough to make him cry out and stumble to his knees again, only for a slimy, green hand to claw at his shoulder, tearing through both suit and skin. He winced, but kicked the zombie away, and struggled to his feet again, faltering one more time before pushing on. He scrambled up the steps, and shoved his way through the doors shoulder-first, before throwing himself back, slamming his back against the doors to hold them closed against the zombies pounding at the doors with a pained grunt.

He whipped around and webbed the door shut, slowly backing off of it and spraying it with as much webbing as he could with one hand, sparing some to shoot at windows and other doors when he turned to sprint to the center of the capitol, refusing to let his ankle give out, and the black creeping in on his vision win.

Peter burst through some doors with a loud bang!, only to trip over himself, and go sprawling to the floor with a gasp of pain. He slid a few inches, but when he tried to get up, his muscles gave up on him, letting him fall again and smack his head against the clean, white floor, now stained red from blood dripping from his shoulder, and brown from the dirt he'd just fallen into.