The Soul World

...and new enemies

When he saw Robert fall into the crowd, Peter panicked. 

Even though it had been a while since he had met the kid, Peter still remembered him because he used to stop by his apartment sometimes on patrols. For a while, it had been nice to check in on the young family, but a few years ago, Peter stopped seeing Robert's siblings on the porch everyday, so he assumed they'd moved away. He never expected anything more from it.

Now, despite the yellow visor and the bright, high-tech suit, Peter could easily recognize Robert, the boy he had encountered all those years ago. What was he doing here? In that costume, among all these raging people? Super-heroes didn't get such a reaction, unless... Unless he was a super-villain?

Peter shook his head. Whatever the case, he had to help the poor kid before the crowd tore him apart.

And the crowd would easily tear him apart...  It had dissolved into chaos; fights started breaking out at random and people began to turn on each other, their original motives forgotten as violence overtook them. Pure, primal panic spread through the already-agitated horde, until it snapped and sharpened into a feral, destructive anger, everyone locked in arms with someone else and tearing at each other with animal-like ferocity.

Peter wasn't sure whether they could get hurt in the Soul World. He wasn't willing to find out.

As he struggled through the horde, he glanced behind him, where things were getting ugly with his companions. 

Strange was blazing with fiery light. He broke up fights with a whip of sparkling energy that snapped in the air. His shields whirled, deflecting punches and blows whilst he defended the back rank of their group, and his hands were a flurry of gestures that ignited fizzing blasts in the air around him.

Drax carved a path through the mass of bodies. With his muscular arms swinging, he collided with whatever poor sucker happened to be in his way and knocked them aside like a bowling pin, roaring so hard that spittle flew out of his mouth.  Where he went, Quill and Mantis followed - or rather, stepped tentatively over the bodies in his wake.

Quill was covering Mantis as she darted out to touch people with her power. However, the atmosphere of violence around them was so strong that they would only stay calm for a moment before they were immersed back into the fighting, usually with a fist to the face. Her efforts caused a brief lull in the storm but it was like trying to put out a fire with drops of water: useless. 

As the crowd converged around him, Peter lost sight of the others. He was on his own. After a moment, he decided to keep going, shoving onward, towards where Robert had fallen. He wouldn't let the kid get hurt in all this.

Relying on the persistent tingle of his Spider-Sense, which was weak but still useful in the Soul World, Peter dodged past limbs and bodies, delving deeper into the fray.  He barely missed a truant elbow to the face and ducked under the fists of two men wrestling each other. 

It was starting to be overwhelming. All of his senses were going haywire, picking up on everything around him.  He could smell the sweat coating people's bodies, he could hear a jaw crunching to his side, and the repeated clash and smack and grunts of fighting. He tasted blood in his mouth, metallic and sharp and not his own.

He was breathing fast. His vision was blurring. His mind spun and he felt nauseous, the bitter tang of vomit at the back of his throat.

Stopping for a moment among the turmoil, he gulped down deep breaths of air. Come on Peter. Come on Spider-Man. As he paused, his Spider-Sense suddenly kicked in again - too late.

Thrown from the brawl, someone slammed into his back and Peter was bowled over, hurled into the stampeding feet of the crowd. 

A leg trod on the small of his back and someone else danced across his body. He yelled in pain but his shouts were futile, lost in the mayhem. Struggling to stand, he gritted his teeth against the throbbing bruises on his back and clenched his fists to keep from crying as he pushed himself up from the floor. Someone's foot kicked him in a sore spot, sending spasms of agony through his muscles. He fell down again and curled into a ball to protect himself. What was Mantis doing? Where were the others?!