String Theory

Chapter 1

After the snap, Peter wakes up in the lab.

He jolts suddenly to consciousness, gasping as if he'd forgotten how to breathe before he fell asleep. The first thing that tears from his throat is a scream, raw and scared and in pain. So much pain. The suit is inactive, dead weight on his body, and despite its metal pinning him flat on the ground, Peter's writhing in the suit's grip. The titanium is hot, searing his skin in some spots, and he screams again. The fluorescent lights overhead are piercingly bright, disorienting, so he shuts his eyes tight, and gives a strangled sob. The panic attack comes on too fast for him to notice that this is Tony's lab. His breathing is quick and uneven, hitching in his throat as hot tears well in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. Desperate, he lifts a shaking hand to his chest, and taps on the suit's deactivation toggle. It won't disassemble. He tries again, and still, it doesn't respond. The fear's rising in his throat now, gripping him too tight to breathe. Even if he wanted to scream again, he couldn't.

"Help," he chokes out, "please, someone—- someone help me, please!"

Peter's voice echoes through the lab, and for a moment, it's deathly quiet. His throat's raw, like he's been screaming for hours, and his hands are trembling, prying at the hot metal with all the strength he can muster. It doesn't give, and he sobs quietly. Tears are rolling down his face, and he can't steady his breathing. This is it, he thinks. I'm going to die here, because I can't take a stupid breath.

The speaker system overhead crackles for a moment. The audio glitches between voices, as if it doesn't know who it is. "Pl-pl — eas- CALIBRATING — need y- to ple— ADJUSTING FR — fr, fre, FREQUEN...cy — I- I ne— need you to breathe. Please breathe." The voice settles into a woman's soothing tone, and Peter registers that it's familiar— he knows that voice. He knows that voice. He blinks a few times, gives a soft sob of relief.

"I ca— I can't get— out of m- my suit," he manages, voice trembling.

"I know. It's going to be alright. I'm working on that, but you need to breathe. I can't do that for you. Can you breathe for me?" She's encouraging. Her voice ticks up, like she's smiling while she talks. "I'm going to play a timer. Breathe to the beat, okay?"

"Okay," Peter whimpers. The beat plays quietly, and he does his best to breathe along to it. He doesn't do it perfectly, and sometimes his sobs interrupt the cycle, but after a few minutes, his panic eases up, and he feels like he's settling back into his body. He's still on the floor, but now he's got the wherewithal to glance around, and take in his surroundings. To the right, a row of automobiles under brown tarps. Behind the automobiles, the wall is decorated with 7 red and gold iron suits behind glass. To the left, a holographic display is showing his vitals- heart rate, oxygen level, brainwaves. He's briefly impressed, and opens his mouth to comment, but the woman interrupts him.

"Your suit's online now. Disengaging."

The suit whirrs to life, and immediately, the red and blue metal begins to dissolve and withdraw into a small, triangular powerpack on his chest. Peter sucks in a hard gasp, and immediately peels it off, tossing it away. Whatever that was, he doesn't want it on him again. Not until he understands what it is. He's on his feet now, scrambling to support himself on the nearest countertop. His hands brush against a few tools, which fall to the floor with a clatter. His hands are still covered, and he gives a slight noise of surprise— another suit? This one's brightly colored, and cloth. He holds up a hand to inspect the wrist gauntlet, and gives it a light shake. A cloud of dust cascades off him, and he coughs. Nausea is brewing in his stomach, and he has the sinking feeling that he knows what the dust is from, but he can't place it.

"Hey— ceiling lady, what is this thing? What am I wearing?"

"It's your suit, Tony."

"..Tony? My name is Tony?" His voice wavers a little. Peter feels his heart skip a beat when he realizes he can't recall his own name. Tony seems... familiar, but he can't place it. He mouths it a few times.