I am who I am. I am who I was. And I am who I always will be. Is there any other answer worth giving? SHIELD seemed to think so.

They came in and spoke to me daily, while I sit in an supposedly impenetrable cell. Spiderman, my old friend begs for me to speak. Begs I tell the truth. But what is there to say? I killed them before they could kill me. There was nothing more to say. What would they care about my mother's body being mutilated and eaten by the native beasts in South America? Or of my father burning alive after falling into a volcano? They wouldn't care about my Uncle being tortured for information, or my siblings sold to greedy pigs.

Telling them would bring back my mother or father. They wouldn't help an ex-mercenary. And my siblings aren't even human.

I'm not even human. Why would I be? Humans are greedy, selfish creatures naturally. Jailing each other for petty reasons and pride. Right now I can say I am more beast than man. Fighting for survival, no matter how my pride has been slaughtered. I eat and drink what they give me. I will live as long as I can. It would be what my parents wanted. Even if I had already given up.


Peter wasn't eating. Not in school, or at home or even with the team. He spoke less worrying even Sam. The arachnid based hero had started scaring them. He practically lived off of coffee and the occasional protein bar as he spent his time at school, fighting crime, or searching for something on his computer.

He was frantic. Obsessive. But he wouldn't tell anyone what he was looking for. It was a secret from even the closest of his friends and the sneakiness of agents. They tried to get him to tell them what he was looking for in a variety of ways. Direct, indirect, orders, understanding, empathize get, therapy... He ignored them easily. Only when the dual colored hair boy was mentioned did he react. He nearly broke Danny's hand.

Peter had then been sent to the medical ward, where he had been strapped down and given nutrients and forced into sleep.

The team had blamed the youngest prisoner.


Three weeks had passed since the prisoner had arrived. One week since Peter had been forced to sleep.

One member of Spider-Man's team would visit every few hours since his entrance into the medical ward to scowl and release verbal anger onto. Zak just sat and listened, silently mourning Peter's health and hoping he would get better. He had a family to get back to. At least his Aunt would be waiting for him to wake.

No one was waiting for him to be released or to escape. The only one waiting for him was Peter, and that was out of guilt. Guilt that one of the people he couldn't save had lived under his protection from committing horrible crimes.

Poor Peter couldn't accept that what happened was unavoidable and horribly illegal. That the crime was needed and unacceptable. Once he did, he could leave without guilt. And Zak could pass, only entering the hells below to receive his punishment for being a murderer and the reincarnate of a dangerous hellish beast from the King Cryptid. Perhaps after so long he'd no longer be punished.

But that was too hopeful.

The only hope he could want, was that Peter recovered, and moved on with his life.


"Why?"

A question budding a million more. Sam wondered what made Peter so obsessed. He sat watching one of his friends suffer because of a cold blooded killer. Why would he suffer? Why this kid? Why Peter? Why did Peter care so much about this particular kid?

Sam shifted his body slightly as if trying to get a new angle to try and crack into Peter's mind when he saw a glint. His watch was still on.

Sam removed it with ease and care he wasn't usually known for. Fiddling with the high tech device, he pulled up a holographic screen. He began going through files kept solely on his watch. He smiled seeing pictures of the team, all goofing off or fighting baddies. Swiping to the more recent pictures, he gave pause seeing the kid killer standing with his shirt off exposing numerous scars. Another half screen appeared logging information about the nicks and injuries. Claw marks, blades, bites, explosions? Torture. Pure torture. The scars were approximately the same age.

His mind flashed back to the bodies in the ally. Could they have been responsible for the damage?

Did that mean he was a victim acting in self defense? Suddenly the kid seemed a lot less black and white then his hair implied. With confusion, he left his friend and entered the room with the kid. He sat like he always did, ignoring whoever entered.

"I know about your scars," Sam said civilly. The kid glanced up at him.

"Do you now?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah. They tortured you. Didn't they?"

He turned his head away, "That's because I was a threat."

"Threat? How could you be a threat?"

The kid chuckled.

"It's not that hard. Just be in the right place at the right time."

"What are you talking about?" Sam demanded. The kid didn't answer. He went back to staring blankly at nothing. Sam pounded on the plexiglass that kept them separated but he didn't even flinch.

Sam floated away, now more frustrated than before. Spiderman believed this kid to be innocent. And the kid didn't agree. What exactly happened?

Yep, a uh... Continuation of sorts to Beyond Hope.

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