skulls

013, SAVE YOURSELF!

SKULLS / CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAVE YOURSELF!

( tw // bit of injury detail )

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SILAS SHAKILY STANDS UP as the world spins around him and his ears ring. He can't see straight, everything is numb, there's debris flying around.

The screaming is the first thing that really registers. Multiple people, maybe five or six, screaming as if their lives are in complete danger. Silas is just stood there, still shaking slightly.

Without any warning, Peter swings straight through the window, very nearly avoiding crashing directly into Silas. It just adds another layer of absolute fear and anxiety to the situation: his nervous shaking is now far more visible.

"Skull... Dude! Why are you just stood there?"

He flies into action without really realising it, instead just running to the edge of the elevator shaft and kneeling down amidst the glass shards coating the floor. They're all cutting through his jeans and into his legs; there's blood pouring out of the cuts in streams and pooling around his ankles and feet.

One person - Silas can't see their face properly through his mask and his tears - reaches up and grips his hand, and he drags them up, trying not to shake too much and drop them. He's biting his tongue so hard he can taste blood, and it feels like his body isn't existing anymore. It's that strange form of disassociation, the kind where he feels sick and dizzy and like crying.

All he can do is watch as the elevator disconnects and begins to fall, to the tune of metal screeching against metal and the sound of screaming again. He forgets everything, completely forgets that he could literally suspend the falling box and everything in it in mid-air, despite how it would probably turn Silas' brain to a mush and kill him outright.

The ethical problem. The trolley problem. Kill one to save the others. Sacrifice yourself to save them all. Silas' mind goes off on weird tangents at the best of times, but this one may have a reasoning behind it.

It takes a few seconds, and for those scary freeze-frames of time, everything stands still. Silas is focusing so hard his ears are ringing, and he can feel his blood vessels heating up. His blood is running hot and cold and down his legs and face - he didn't even notice he was biting his lip so violently.

The metal screeches, screeches, stops.

Silas is sobbing with the effort as he lifts his outstretched arm upwards and follows the movement with his eyes and his mind, trying not to scream or collapse or both. Like some bad movie trope, the scraping sound seems to be happening in reverse as he pulls it skywards, and as he watches, the very top comes into view. Then the top of the door. Then their faces, frozen in fear.

Somehow, Silas could smile right now. And he does, despite the roaring in his skull and the leaden emptiness in his veins. It feels good to smile about something, finally.

His determination wavers, only slightly, but he can sense the drop. The silencing of the screaming, the blood re-entering the vacuum formed inside him. And he can only watch in sheer horror and regret as everything he's worked for, all his focus and power isn't enough. It begins to fall. Silas has given them a false sense of security, brainwashed them into feeling it and fed it to them on a silver platter, just to tear it away again.

A figure jumps over his head, somersaulting just to show off, and dives straight down the elevator shaft like an Olympic gold medallist. Peter fires a web at the wall, one at the elevator box itself, and then as an afterthought, two at each corner to provide friction and slow it down. If the boy behind the mask is Peter, then he knows his physics. Silas respects that.

There's a moment where it looks a though his plan won't work, and Silas can feel himself holding his breath without thinking about it. But finally, the universe comes together, and Peter's webs hold the elevator steady in its place.

Silas can focus again. Some sort of narcissistic element of himself wants to make sure he plays a part in the saving of these citizens, like a real superhero, not one who cries into his Algebra textbook at one in the morning on Saturdays.

With another smile, smaller this time, he begins to pull the main, thickest web upwards. It sticks to itself (he isn't fully sure how that works, but he'll take it) as it steadily shortens and drags with it the elevator box, which inchs up towards the opening.

Peter is sat cross-legged on top of it with a snarky smile, before he does another casual forward roll and crouches in front of Silas. He has a splitting headache that could definitely have become something more serious if he had exerted himself a little more for a little longer, but somehow, seeing Peter look at him (presumably) seems to clear it up better than any aspirin could.

"Pretty superhero of you. Also, smile more. It suits you."

Silas is extremely glad the beanie mask covers his blush.

word count: 876!
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