Tick Tock Goes the Clock

Chapter 3

The skyscrapers reflected in his eyes as he looked out over the city he'd sworn to protect. Things felt different since his diagnosis. Everything seemed more detailed, like there was more to life now that he knew it was going to be cut so short. The sky was painted pastels of pink and yellow by the setting sun. There was a chill in the air, making him shiver. There was gravel and dirt on the roof. There were scrapes and chips in the concrete ledge. There were some pigeons on the other end of the roof, their necks shining with a mixture of purple, blue, and green.

His brain was a sponge, trying to soak up every ounce of detail in some last-ditch attempt to keep feeling alive.

Ugh.

He didn't have that much longer. He might as well take out as many baddies as he could before the inevitable.

Inhaling deeply, he sprinted. One foot in front of the other until he reached the ledge. He sprung, vaulting into the sky. Closing his eyes, he felt the wind whip at his mask and whoosh in his ears, cold against his body and making goosebumps prick his skin. He tilted forward, falling into a swan-dive. He let himself plummet, getting closer and closer to the rooftop below.

Extending an arm, he shot a web, sticking to a taller building.

The instant the web went taut, Peter felt something sharp in his shoulder.

His grip slipped from the web and he went plummeting. Thankfully he'd been at the lowest part of his swing, so he didn't have far to fall, but a concrete rooftop wasn't exactly cushioning. Especially when hitting it back-first.

The moment he made contact, the air was punched out of him. He couldn't breathe for a solid ten seconds then, all at once, his lungs expanded painfully, sucking in an audible breath. He curled over, coughing like an old man in a retirement home. The moment he put weight onto his shoulder, he flinched with a welp. Something wasn't right. He'd done something to it. He could feel hot pain radiating through it and down his arm. He tried to massage it, but jerked his hand back. It felt out of place and hurt like a motherfucker.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he gritted his teeth. "Oh god. Oh my god."

He laid there for several minutes, in a dent in the roof, blinking up at an overcast sky. He focussed on breathing through the pain, his lungs finally having recovered.

Why was everything going so wrong?!

He heard a thunk on the other side of the roof. Peter internally cursed, wondering if it was a baddie who'd come to fight him. He really wasn't in the right state - or mood - to get into a big thing with someone.

"Kid?"

Peter blinked and lifted his head to spot the one and only Tony Stark approaching him. "Mr. Stark?"

"What's going on? FRIDAY said you had a fall."

"Wha..." How? He wasn't using Tony's suit, so how did she- you know what, he didn't want to know. He was sure the answer would just piss him off.

With a groan fit for an old man, Peter willed himself to sit up.

"What's wrong- OH GOD!" Tony was at his side in a second, his surprised expression morphing into a sort of cringe. "Uh, how're you doin' there, champ?"

Peter groaned in response and got to his feet, unable to stand up straight. "Is it bad?"

Tony's face twitched, eyes flicking between Peter and his shoulder. After a moment, he gave a cheap smile and scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, yeah it looks... it's gonna be fine. How about I take you to the Medbay anyway. Y'know, just for a, uh, a checkup."