Spider-Man: At breaking point

Chapter Eleven: Waking in Shadows

The first thing Peter felt was the throbbing in his hands. His knuckles, raw and burning, pulsed with every beat of his heart. Slowly, his senses returned—muted voices, the faint scent of antiseptic, the rough fabric of a couch beneath him. His eyes fluttered open, and the blurry outline of a familiar face came into focus.

Matthew Murdock.

Peter groaned, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his arms. He looked down to see thick bandages wrapped around his hands and forearms, soaked in dark stains. He remembered now—how he had lost control, how he had pounded into the Reaper over and over again, driven by blind rage. The memory sent a wave of nausea through him.

"Easy, Peter," Matthew's calm, even voice cut through the haze. The blind lawyer sat in a chair across the room, listening intently. His red glasses reflected the dim light of the small apartment. "You took a pretty bad fall."

Peter swallowed hard, the taste of blood still in his mouth. "Where... where am I?"

"My apartment," Matthew said, standing up and walking over to Peter. "After I found you lying on the street, I had to get you somewhere safe. You've been out for a while."

Peter winced as he tried to flex his fingers. The pain was sharp and immediate, reminding him of just how much he had pushed his body past its limits. "My hands..."

"They're a mess," Matthew said bluntly, sitting on the edge of the couch. "You did some real damage to yourself. If you keep going like this, Peter, you won't be able to throw another punch, let alone save anyone."

Peter's mind raced, his thoughts clouded with guilt and frustration. He had lost control. He had let his anger take over, and it nearly got him killed. "I didn't... I didn't mean to go that far."

Matthew's face was unreadable behind his glasses, but his tone was stern. "It's time to rethink your approach. The Reaper isn't like your usual enemies. He's playing you, and right now, you're doing exactly what he wants."

Peter clenched his jaw, his head pounding with the weight of everything that had happened. "I can't let him keep doing this. I have to stop him."

"And you will," Matthew said, his voice softening just a little. "But not like this. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment, and that's exactly what he wants. You've got to keep your head in the game, or more people are going to die."

Peter's eyes darkened, the faces of those he couldn't save flashing before him. The innocents who had turned up dead because of the Reaper. His failure, again and again.

"Is... is MJ safe?" Peter asked suddenly, his voice strained. The thought of her in danger had been gnawing at him since the moment the Reaper had brought her up on that rooftop. He couldn't lose her—not again.

Matthew nodded. "She's safe. I made sure of that."

A wave of relief washed over Peter, but it didn't last long. His mind was still spinning, still searching for answers. The Reaper had gotten into his head, pushed him to the edge—and it wasn't over yet.

"I need to be better," Peter muttered, more to himself than to Matthew. He stared down at his bloodied hands, the bandages barely holding the wounds together. "I need to be stronger."

Matthew stood up, his posture calm but commanding. "What you need is to remember who you are, Peter. You're Spider-Man. And that means something. But you can't let this guy turn you into something you're not."

Peter slowly pulled himself to his feet, his body aching with every movement. But there was a fire in his eyes now—a determination that had been buried beneath the rage, the guilt, the pain. He wasn't going to let the Reaper break him. Not anymore.

"I've got to be smarter," Peter said quietly, his mind already working. "If the Reaper wants to play games, then I'll play. But on my terms."

Matthew nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Now you're thinking like the Peter Parker I know."

Peter turned toward the window, the city skyline stretching out before him. The Reaper had made this personal, and now, it was time for Peter to respond. But this time, he wouldn't let his emotions take control. This time, he'd be ready.

"I need a new suit," Peter said, his voice resolute. "One that can handle what's coming."

Matthew crossed his arms, listening to the determination in Peter's voice. "Then you'd better get to work."

Peter glanced down at his tattered, bloodied costume. It had been through hell—and so had he. But it wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.

As the night closed in around him, Peter's mind raced with new ideas, new strategies. The Reaper had tried to break him—but now, Peter was ready to rise again.

The next time they met, he wouldn't just be Spider-Man. He'd be something more.

The Reaper wouldn't see him coming.