A New Hero - Peter Parker (BOOK 1) | Spider-Man: Far From Home

Chapter Forty - The Recovery

Clara stirred, her consciousness slowly returning to her. The dull throbbing in her stomach quickly drawing her back to the real world, away from that of make-belief and dreams. She was lying down, the surface beneath her firm, only a little give to the material. She stayed like that for a long moment, her mind trying to piece together the disjointed memories of what had happened leading up that moment.

Why was she sleeping? They were supposed to be looking for Beck, right? No... They had found him, hadn't they? So why was she sleeping?

Clara frowned, letting her eyes flicker open. The light in the room was dim, but still enough for Clara to have to squint and blink away the sudden change to her senses. She couldn't remember falling asleep, let alone falling asleep on such an uncomfortable surface. 

Regret hit her as soon she sat up, something striking her forehead in the same instant as the throb in her stomach grew to an aching pain. 'Shit!' She hissed, one hand going to tentatively touch her forehead, the other moving to hold her stomach. 

Now she remembered; she had been shot. But this pain wasn't the same as it had been before, this was much duller, and much, much less nauseating. Great, well, now I've figured that out, what the hell is this? 

Clara lifted a hand and, as it came into view, she finally realised the dim light that was illuminating the area around her was in fact, her. A purple hue she hadn't noticed before wrapping around her. She ignored it, her head not quite in the right mindset to focus on more than one thing at a time. 

She tapped her finger on the strange dome encasing her. It felt like a strong material, not too dissimilar from Plexiglass. She traced her fingertips from the spot she tapped, to the side her hand was already sitting. Yep, definitely some sort of weird, round, glass coffin - she had definitely been buried alive. 

She lifted her hands above her head, pushing against the flat surface, but finding it was refusing to shift in the slightest. God, she didn't actually want to die. Dying in order to save Peter was one thing, but being buried alive with a slowly diminishing oxygen level? Nope. No thank you. 

Trying a new tactic, she pressed the palms of her hands on the surface above her, bracing her knees on the tough material to apply more pressure. She growled at the lack of give in the domed cover, balling her hands into fists, and dropping them heavily back to the bedding. She winced as one hand hit something hard. 

Feeling around for what it was, Clara realised there had been a button under her hand the entire time. She sighed, frustrated at her own inadequacies as the cover lifted with a barely audible whirr. Not a coffin then. 

As the barrier above her moved, the rooms light changed from off, to dim, to a soft glow. 

Now she could see her surroundings, more questions were forced into her thought processes. The device she had been lying on looked like some sort of... tubey thing? Clara didn't know what to call it. 

The room she stood in was entirely white, with hexagons covering the walls in a repetitive pattern, a solid-looking door at the opposite end of the room. To the left of the door was a small, separate space - more like a room in itself with its own window and another solid door. 

Clara glanced behind her, as if looking out for anyone that could catch her nosing around things she shouldn't be. Seeing she was definitely alone, she started towards the little room, finding a screen built into the wall next to the door. 

A loud beep aired when Clara poked at the screen, feeling like an old grandma as she struggled with the new tech. She winced as the device honked at her in protest at whatever she had done, the word 'denied' popping up in bright red text. 

It happened again as she did the exact same thing, Clara, for some reason, finding that to be surprising. With only one other idea as to what she could do, she let the purple around her hand glow brighter, and she tapped the screen just one more time. 

She jumped out of her skin as the beeping came again, this time louder and repeating over and over in the form of an alarm. Clara had expected the device to cut out completely, as did all of the technology she had tried that with, instead, she was met with the alarm which only stopped when the door that led into the small room slid open. 

A woman stepped in the room holding a tablet, a warm smile on her face. "Err... Hi," Clara smiled guiltily. 

"It's lovely to see you awake," the lady said earnestly. "I'm Agent Jemma Simmons, and you are currently aboard Zephyr One."