Foresight * Peter Parker // Infinity War

" . chapter i: awake *

Peter tosses and turns in his bed, a sweaty, tangled mass of sheets surrounding him. It is a coffin— suffocating, dark, dangerous. His mind is burying him alive in dust. There is a metallic snap from an armored hand. He chokes for air as remnants of his mind's created heroes fill his nostrils and throat. A feline warrior reaching for a comrade, then a metal armed soldier, then countless others . . . until finally, it's him.

I don't feel so good. . . The words are laborious and he stumbles into a mentor's arms. Tears fall. Sir. . . Please, A sob is held back, I don't want to go. . . Slowly but surly he starts to fade to ashes, just like the others, joining the darkness. His eyes open. It is 6:30 AM and there is half an hour before his alarm is due to signal.

Feet slip out of bed hitting the cold hardwood, but his Batman socks absorb most of the chill. A Lego is kicked out of his path and he stands up, reaching for the ceiling. Vertebrae crack and Peter groans in appreciation prior to reaching for his glasses. Another morning, groggy and confused, but that is the life of a high school junior.

At least in waking up early, he could claim the bathroom first before his little sister took her hour long routine. He made his way out of the room, walking down the hall lined with family portraits until he reached the restroom. He looked in the mirror, his eyes blood shot and face ghostly pale, a bit of scruff lining his jaw. Too early for his taste, especially after a restless night. He turns on the shower to something a little cold for comfort in the hopes it will wake him up and he begins his morning routine.

It doesn't take long to shower, but it feels like ages as he is left with his thoughts. He was a super hero? That seemed unrealistic — they were the stuff of fiction and imagination. Becoming a figure like Batman only seemed possible if you had the resources of that millionaire weapon mogul: Tony Stark. Even then, power comes with responsibility, something Peter felt he could not yet handle. Soap suds spiraled down the drain and he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his lower half before returning to his room. 7:02 AM. His alarm had been going off for two minutes now, but he was awake already. He hit the off button, and began his slow trek to the dresser.

There was a slight interruption as he began to pull on jeans. A feminine voice through the door. "Peter? Are you up?" Identifiable as his mother, Mary, Peter opened the door to great her.

"I'm up." He tried to smile but only a yawn came out of his efforts.

The brow of Mary's sensible features, furrowed as she took in her son's pale completion and exhausted eyes. "You don't look so good. . . maybe stay home today? I can get May over."

The suggestion was kind but Peter refused to accept it. "Mom, I've got a big game today! Manhattan Prep vs. Midtown Tech! I can't just not play!" He put on his blue dress shirt and a grey sweater on top before going to all corners of his room in an attempt to get his backpack together.

"Sorry for trying to get you out of school," She held up her hands in defense, handing her son his paperback copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. "Need a ride?"

"Thanks," He mumbled, shoving it deep into the abyss that was his school bag, "But no thanks, Liz is grabbing me on her way to ESU. It's more convenient."

Mary shook her head knowing full well how 'convenient' it was for Peter's girlfriend to take him to school when the campuses were a solid twenty minutes apart. "Eat something before you go. Lunch is packed. Love you champ, I'll be at the game." She ruffled his wet hair before exiting.

"Fine, Mom. . ." He groaned, following her out of the room and down the stairs of their home. But, contrary to her request, Peter did not eat before he left. There was too much on his mind. Instead he just took his brown paper bag and left out the door, forgetting his ride would be arriving in five minutes. The time was 7:15 AM, and Peter Parker walked down the street, wide awake and confused, hoping that the vague feeling of unease would leave him by the time it was afternoon.