Rising Fatality (Ultimate Spider-Man Fanfic)

2| Cheliceri

Peter POV

Today was already feeling like shit.

Peter woke up that morning feeling out of his skin. The nightmares came and went of their own interest, and he was still waiting patiently for the day they would stop altogether. But if the nightmare last night was any indicator, then his hopes for a refreshing sleep was about as likely as Taskmaster putting on a pink tutu and dancing the Swan Lake.

His uncomfortable, dissociative state of mind stayed with him throughout the rest of the morning. In the communal area, everything seemed just a tad too loud and people were getting just a little to close for him to be comfortable. Generally, most of the other students left him alone, as he liked. But with a day like today, anyone within a foot of him was infringing on his unestablished boundaries

Too neurotic to bother lashing out at people - just the thought made him nauseous - Peter took to the walls and ceiling for transportation. No one bat an eye, and if they did, they were careful to keep it to themselves. They were all used to it by now anyway. Peter preferred getting around via web-swinging or ceiling walking. The only ones who ever gawked anymore were the newbies, and even they'd been informed to keep their distance, so it was good. It was all good. The ceiling was good.

Peter took his tray of food, found a nice corner at the end of the wide, communal area, and picked at his breakfast. Today, it was oatmeal, sausage, and eggs. A good healthy breakfast for any intellectual assassin. He was going to need it if this new training assessment was going to be any good. Yet, his appetite was missing. Probably hiding somewhere in his bed.

He managed a few bites of oatmeal and half the sausage without throwing up, then tossed the rest in the garbage. It was getting too loud anyway. He tried to eat as early as he could so he didn't have to suffer through the other students' small-talk. One of the disadvantages to having super hearing was that you ended up listening to everything. And today, Peter's ears were painfully sensitive, and he didn't want to hear about the weird fungus growing between your toes, or the infected ulcer on your butt.

More student were filling the room, which was his cue to skedaddle on out of there. He scuttled across the ceiling, passing over a table with a few Senior students hunched over their trays.

"-you see that ship that arrived this morning? Big-ass thing with these weird symbols painted on it. Let me tell you dude, that thing is not from around here."

"Do you think it's mutant?"

"Nah, man. It's definitely alien."

Huh, perhaps not all conversation was nugatory. Apparently, their lovely school was hosting a guest. On the exact same day, Peter was expected to have an assessment too. Seemed a bit too coincidental for his taste.

He got to his feet and strode across the ceiling, out of the communal, and into the hall. On a normal day, Peter would've gone to one of the (private) classes, Weapon Maintenance and Exotic Methods of Killing preferably, but Taskmaster didn't allow classes on an assessment day. You could study up on your own time, but this was to see how much knowledge and training you retained throughout the schooling period, not how much you could cram into your brain before you were judged.

While Peter could appreciate a break every once in a while, he was itching to do something. Anything to keep his brain and body useful. He'd found that the best way to deal with a bad brain day like this was to just keep busy until it went away. Sure, sometimes he felt ready to explode because his mind wouldn't shut up and his body was off the fritz and ululating over every little thing, and that he couldn't think straight and that even following the simplest thoughts felt like herding a bunch of cats into a swimming pool, but it kept him busy. As long as he kept busy, the day would eventually end, and right now that was all he wanted.