BUT MY HEART IS WILD, AND MY BONES ARE STEEL

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CHARACTERS: peter parker & YOU
DATE: 3/22 - 3/23
WARNINGS: violence?? possibly... some cannibalism attempts, jfc
SUMMARY: turns out that a mild coma didn't actually keep the virus from progressing, and now that he's out and about at nearly 7 weeks infected, things are a bit bad. time to catch a spider. easy, right?



SANS.

( when he finally figured out his infected state, his only option seemed to be isolation. it was not a great plan, admittedly. he hadn't had a lot of time to make it, even if he'd promised Keith to make preparations just in case. he couldn't hole up in quarantine, not when he was a threat to anyone that hazarded going too close, so that meant more extreme measures.

one little slip was all it took to devastate. Stiles had been proof of that. Peter refused to let there be another slip.

the plan was simple. lock himself away where the infected numbers were high, to keep anyone from finding him. steal enough barbiturates to keep himself under as... well, as long as he needed to be. he had not been concerned with an endgame. it could have worked, maybe, if he'd trusted someone else to be close enough to monitor him. the dispenser he'd made did its job, but he'd discounted exactly how much of the drug he'd need to even drag him under. he hadn't taken enough to last even a week.

when he woke, he was not the same person that had been willing to render himself comatose to protect everyone in Woodhurst.

he was no longer thinking; his thoughts were burned away in the fever of his hunger. nothing else mattered. so when he crawled from the sewers, he doesn't exactly seem like someone wise to get particularly close to. there's already blood on his hands, his pupils so wide in the dark his eyes almost seem black — and if that weren't eerie enough, the first hint at a sound makes him react, and not simply by running. that'd be too easy, wouldn't it?

no, crawling along the wall suits him just fine, at a rather alarming speed. it seems rife for a horror movie, only it's reality, and it is a reality that is coming in a little too quickly. the sound that had caught his attention was a woman walking to her car, unaware of the danger lingering in the dark. leaping from a wall to land on her is enough to knock her to the ground and knock her out in one fell swoop, which might be just as well. she won't have to feel his teeth sinking into her arm. )

REIKA.

( turns out, when someone capable of crawling up walls and throwing cars starts a frenzy in the middle of downtown, it draws attention. especially when the count of injuries is climbing and climbing fast. the screams, the cries for help, the few people left on the streets fleeing for safety seems to have little effect on him anymore. if anything it seems to set him off, throwing whatever he can reach at the nearest sound. which is a bit of a problem, when he can lift just about any car he comes across.

he doesn't exactly hear the threat coming. no, he feels it, a shiver down his spine, hairs standing on end. even with the knowledge it's coming, he doesn't bother to stop chasing the next mark he's after. he crawls after his fleeing target, skittering along the wall with demented focus. even as the terrified civilian screams for help and stumbles into the street. it doesn't matter how much he eats anymore, he's still hungry — and he seems to have decided on his next meal. )

NOT SO SUPER AFTER ALL. (OTA)

( spider-man is actually only so amazing. he can crawl up walls and lift incredible weights, yet he's far from invincible. he might have done well to remember that a lot sooner, chances were a lot of people would have been saved a lot of pain.

still, he's been chased and pursued, and by individuals strong enough to actually keep up with him. more than keep up, really. his brain was burned into thoughtless fever, and his actions were stuck on instinct, instead of forethought. Audentes wasn't the only thing he had to worry about, either, as Woodhurst was determined to fight back as well. for example, getting hit by that pest control van had definitely not been expected. who could really expect that kind of irony?

he's hidden in the dark, pressed against a wall and nearly dazed. he definitely looks as if he's in need of help, though considering the smudges of blood on his face and hands... you might not want to risk it. )

HAISE.

( there are only two things that matter to him at the moment. trying to sate the endless hunger that only seems to be amplified the more he tries to silence it, and evading those that have intent on keeping him from it. evading violently, if need be. he's somehow managed to avoid capture this long, and that's in no small part from how capable he is at slipping away, and hearing who might be after him before he can even see them.

still, he's running on madness, not sense. not to mention Peter had been wise enough to take off the webslingers that allowed him to move through the air so quickly, just in case. hard to say if he'd even have the sense to use them, now, though if he could it was certainly for the best he didn't have the option. he's not as fast as he could be and that leaves him open to intervention.

even though he's not particularly inclined toward the idea.

he's distracted, trying to beat down a heavy metal barricade that was hiding something to eat. the screams inside only seemed to make him work more feverishly, like a panicked promise if he could just manage to get inside. terrifyingly, he's doing a damned good job beating the metal in with his fists — unless someone can stop him. )

Comments

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( there's no part of him left that could recognize the trap he's in. it is one he's seen before, even if he had done his damnedest not to think about it terribly much. Peter Parker was sort of like that, when it came to magic. he preferred his science, so push come to shove he wouldn't think about it until he had time to really think about it, and hopefully come up with a scientific explanation for it. Woodhurst? not exactly flowing with free time.

with most of his sense lost to Bristol, though, he's more creature than human. magic doesn't necessarily make any more sense with most of his faculties shut off. his first reaction was to keep at his track of getting closer, and that was by crawling. he didn't care what kind of cage he was in, it looked plenty easy to climb out—

he gasps in pain when he reaches to touch it, though, the blue bones used to restrain him at least mildly painful. mildly. not enough to make him content to stay still. what was a little sting compared to the claw of hunger, a destructive power so strong it couldn't be silenced? so the next time he ignores the sting on contact, clambering up the bones and tries to go right back to where he started, launching back towards the all-too-tasty looking potential meal. )

[skelepun]

Yeesh.

[It's all Sans can really think to say, teleporting a few feet to the left as Peter barrels past him. Sweat is definitely starting at his brow bone now, betraying the first clawing tendrils of exhaustion. There was only so much he could do against a human this powerful, especially a human he didn't want to hurt.

A human who didn't really want to hurt him... of that he was sure.

Bristol was a bitch, wasn't it.]

Kid. Look. [Teleporting again, avoiding another charge. This time he's up on top of a parked car.] Can you hear me? You recognize my voice? [Another teleportation, to another car. Inside it this time, raising his voice to be heard through the window pane.] Anything?

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( it takes a lot of faith to believe he doesn't want to cause any harm, when there was no sign of hesitation or reluctance in his violent reactions. he hits the brick of the alley wall and sticks there with Sans suddenly absent and unavailable to land on. by now his spider sense is trying to catch up with the odd little man that moved so fast it almost was like he wasn't moving at all. it hinted toward the left, and he lunged from the wall toward it, and—

it was gone before he reached it.

this time he couldn't land quite as gracefully, skidding across pavement and rolling against the dirty ground — the momentum was a little too much to perfectly cancel, especially when he ended up with nothing to land on. there's a hint of his teeth when he spots Sans again, on top of a car, and then in it. the questioning doesn't seem to be having much affect, yet the frustration of whack-a-mole evasive techniques seem to be showing.

when he reaches the car, he doesn't break the glass and try to reach inside of it. no, he just throws the car itself. maybe his meal would move around less if it was unconscious. it's sure a thought! )

[skelepun]

[There's no place quite so primed for reevaluating your life as the cab of a pickup truck, hurtling through the air. He should go back to school. Finish his doctorate. That sock Papyrus was always harping on, maybe he should've picked it up.

... Nah.

The truck collides with the pavement with a hideous crunch of metal. If Sans has reappeared anywhere, it's not clear -- though Peter's senses might detect a presence a few feet behind him, followed by another increase in gravity. It's stronger this time, as Sans attempts to couple the pressure with a cage of bones surrounding him.]

Alright, so you're not into talking. Got it.

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( PICK UP YOUR SOCKS SANS!!!!!

it's tempting, to head towards the snarl of metal and broken glass. that is what makes the most sense, that he'd be trapped in the crunched and destroyed truck. the problem, though, is that he's not incapable of learning. he knows how unnaturally quickly his current target can move.

the senses prove him right, a warning bell just seconds before the air around him seems to get thicker. it's an uncanny sensation, having gravity press in on you like it wasn't a second prior. he can feel how it presses him harder to the cement, breathes a note of discontent as he turns to spot the target, threat, both in one.

he can guess that the abnormalities have a source, now. a source that is annoying him more than it's hurting him, which is likely why he hasn't tried to run away yet. he moves a little slower against the increased weight of gravity, pressing down on his shoulders.

not slow enough, though; this time, instead of trying to crawl out, he slams into the barrier as hard as he can. which turns out to be quite hard, in fact, even if it's a strain to move under that sort of pressure. )

[skelepun]

[There was a skill Sans learned long ago: when to bail. Some might say he knew it a little too well, skipping the steps others might naturally resort to before quitting. Trying, that wasn't really his style, and he was already reaching the end of his reserves.

There was only so much banging his head against a ravenous superhuman before fatigue started setting in.]

Look. [He manages, erecting fresh walls of bones for each layer Peter pushed through.] If you understand me at all, give me a sign. One sign. That's all I'm looking for.

[Another wall of bones, and another. Things were definitely getting a little too close for comfort, but maybe that's how it had to be if he was actually going to get through to this kid.]

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( a sign is a simple request. just a whisper that he's still in there, when everything else points to the contrary. if Peter is capable of understanding, even if he wanted to give Sans a sign, he can't. that part of him is pushed so far back, he might as well still be on the cold cement of the sewer, forced under in meager attempts to protect an entire city from himself.

it hadn't worked, but that was still what he wanted. yes, Peter had wanted to protect himself and his secret, he'd made the wrong choices and there were consequences for them, yet when it came down to it he didn't value his own life over others. if he could give Sans a sign, he wouldn't ask for leniency. he wouldn't ask to be saved.

he'd ask to be stopped, while there was still a chance to.

that part of him has no voice. no real awareness, either. instead, what Stiles has to deal with is the virus taking control. Bristol didn't care about signs, didn't care about consequences, it just pushed forward in an angry frenzy. even if crashing through the barriers was far from easy, he was showing no signs of stopping, or slowing. running into him after a week long nap was not your luckiest moment, Sans. )

[skelepun]

[He looks, eye sockets narrowed to slits as the lights that resided within them seemed to glow brighter. Eager. Seeking out anything that might resemble the glow of a soul, a proper one, salvageable under all the muck coursing through the kids veins.

It was there, of course. But the weight of it seemed impossibly huge -- all conscious barrier between killing and mercy stripped away by the virus. It wasn't the same soul he'd seen when he met this kid in the mall. It didn't even shine with the same color.

It isn't the answer Sans wants, but there was no more ignoring the fact he wasn't getting a better one.]

Alright. [Despite the lack of lungs, Sans sounded out of breath, wheezing out the words between barrages of bones. He didn't bother holding back this time, bones striking without the mercy he'd shown before. This time, they hit with a constant, burning pain that didn't let up as long as Peter remained in contact with them.

Sans didn't want to hurt the guy.

But it wasn't his fight, either.

When Peter recovers from the blow, he'll see his prey vanished entirely.]

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( it's certain that this retaliation is different from the last. there had been discomfort, admittedly, yet the discomfort had been to try and contain. he'd taken it on without thinking in his blind desire to sate his hunger. instead this was distinctly aimed for him, and despite senses that could allow him to avoid things he didn't see coming, there was only so far those could get him. avoid one attack, get hit by another, in a painful cycle.

when it is finally over, there's not even a reward for his endurance — the target he'd been so intent on was absolutely gone.

he's hurt and frustrated, yet he doesn't linger long to sulk about the loss. no, it only delays him a second at the most, before he hears something along the streets and decides to crawl up a wall and chase after that instead. )