Memories of Home

𝚡𝚒𝚒. 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 // new synapses

Slow breaths. In and out.

It all washed over him. The crippling anxiety. The crushing feeling of failure.

All the emotions he had fought so hard to come back from - Peter found he had become exactly who he had been right after he had lost everything

And the biggest similarity-  he had failed to keep someone else he loved safe again...but it felt so much worse the second time around.

Despite that...he knew it would be all too easy to become a shell again. But he wouldn't do that. Wouldn't leave her alone again.

So...slow breaths. In and out. Zeroing in his senses on the most basic of human functions as to not fall apart completely.

In these moments, his mind would flash back to what those he had lost might say to him.

Tony would probably smack him on the side of his head. Tell him to stop being a little nerd (even though they were both nerds and that's how they liked it) and to go kick some ass.

May would have probably wanted to go herself- and swear at Fisk up and down about how the world would be better off without people like him.

He knew they both would have kicked his ass for wasting so much time second guessing himself. He wished he had stopped sooner too- but now it was time to stop the bullshit and get her back.

 Timing's a bitch - but better late than never.

Peter had been tracking Michelle, ever since that night everything had happened. His mouth grimaced at the memory. If she was even Michelle anymore.

He had only allowed himself one moment of weakness that night he'd lost her. He swung himself up to the highest building in the city, despite the thunder storm that ensued as he fled Fisk and the situation.

That night, as he stood up high on those rooftops, he screamed and screamed at the top of his lungs. Not caring as the rain beat against his suit- daring the lighting to strike him.

He screamed until his voice became nothing but the feeling of the rawness in his throat...and then he put all that away, focused on his next move, and hoped to high hell that he could out think the problem he had caused.

So first - find her. And find what she had become.

Peter had tracked the calls coming in through the reports, about something faster, deadlier and stronger than anything anyone had seen in a long time.

But he realized very quickly, it's hard to keep up with a shadow.

She moved too quickly. She disappeared too often.

His breath caught in his throat each time he saw her in action. As if almost in disbelief that the same girl with the deadly glint in her eye was MJ. The way she cut through groups of mobsters much bigger than she was...cut them down like they were nothing but blades of grass.

Since Peter had followed her mostly in the night, he had barely slept... but as his nightmares had reminded him, it wasn't MJ he saw.... It was the Black Dahlia that had been controlling the movements of Fisk's men on the ground these past few weeks. The look in their eyes made it evident - they hadn't seen power like this materialize in anyone else that had given the dosage which Fisk seemed to want to hand out like candy.

So the difference? Peter had a few guesses.

The spell Strange had cast had altered the cells of those he knew down to the molecular level. Maybe something in that change responded stronger to the serum that now had altered her cells once again.