Happy Saturday!
I'm hoping you just had nothing to say last time and not that you've all stopped reading the story because I missed hearing from you.
This is another Homecoming event, but it's almost total AU. Hope you enjoy xxx
Chapter Thirty-One
September 10th
Peter tapped the glowing core with the hammer, Ned watching curiously at his elbow, and it wiggled in its clamp.
"You're going to need to do it harder than that," Ned said.
Peter sighed. "I know."
He was unsure about what he was doing, but at the same time, he knew he needed to. This was the only way to find out what this weapon was and where it came from, which he needed to know to find and stop the people building them.
He and Ned had already deduced that it was alien technology being combined with earth's, and Peter saw the potential for even more damage than he'd seen already. And what he had seen was big enough with what happened to Mr. Delmar's.
He gave it another tap, it wiggled again, and he knew he was going to have to suck it up and get on with it. He hit it hard, and the glowing core flew out and hit the ground with a clatter.
Peter and Ned's heads snapped round to see if they'd been noticed, but everyone seemed caught up in what they were doing: Flash was fiddling with something beside the cloud chamber, Liz and Abe were working on a chemistry experiment which was smoking, and Betty was thumbing through a textbook with a vague look in her eyes. The rest of the people in the room were similarly occupied.
"Keep your fingers clear of the blades," Mr. Hapgood said in a bored tone, not looking up from his book.
Peter picked up the purple glowing core and examined it. It felt cool against his skin hand, though he thought he could detect a pulse from it, a tremor against his hand. He carried it back to Ned, and they bowed over it together.
"This, dude, this is it!" Ned whispered enthusiastically. "You've got an actual alien weapon in your hands."
"I do," Peter agreed. "But what am I going to do with it?"
"What do you want to do?" Ned asked.
"Show Mr. Stark," Peter said honestly. "I could. I mean, he's away for three weeks, so I could wait and show it to him when he gets back. But the weapons dealers could do a lot of damage before them. I could patrol more, track them, or…"
Ned jostled his shoulder. "This is not Spider-Man talking."
"Shhh!" Peter hissed.
Ned glanced around and then spoke, voice quieter now. "Okay, yeah, but I'm right. This is Peter Parker talking, and he's not the one being tested. You told me that's what you and Karen worked out. And since Mr. Stark made Karen, she knows what she's talking about. You have to pass this test, which means it's got to be Spider-Man in control."
Peter stared at him. "You do know we're the same person, right?"
Ned shook his head, hair whipping. "No, dude, Spider-Man is the way cooler version of you."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Ned."
"You know what I mean, and you know I'm right. Spider-Man needs to handle this. Iron Man is relying on him to."
Peter smiled slightly. "Yeah. Okay. But what do I do? I guess I could ask Karen what she knows." He looked around again. "That's going to have to wait since I left the suit at home."
"Can I come by while you do it?" Ned asked.
"Totally. This is absolutely the kind of thing I need my Guy in the Chair for."
Ned beamed. "I just want to say, thank you for taking me on this journey with you. I know you're freaking out under the calm exterior—"
Peter snorted. "Calm? You think this is calm? Ned, dude, I'm terrified. This is a huge deal. Mr. Stark has never tested me like this before—he's never tested me at all. The closest we've come to this, which is a million miles away, is asking me for theories on what we're doing before showing me if I'm right or wrong. This is… He might decide I'm not good enough and take the suit back."
"You think?" Ned asked, eyebrows high."
"I don't know," Peter groaned. "I have no idea what he's thinking because he's, you know, superhero genius, and I'm Peter. For all I know, this is what the Avengers do all the time."
Ned's mouth dropped open. "You think this is an Avengers test! Like you need to pass it to be one? Dude, you could be an Avenger!"
Peter shook his head jerkily. "No! Totally not. No way. Yeah, I don't know what he's doing, unless this is some kind of confidence-building thing, which, yeah, I don't want. Whatever he's doing, I've got to pass it since I can't lose the suit. It's amazing, Ned; I can do so much more with it, Karen helps me so much, and I'll not be able to help as many people without her!"
Ned held up a hand. "Dude, you're spiraling. You're not going to lose the suit as you're not going to fail this test. You're going to pass it, kick some supervillain ass, and then Mr. Stark will make you an Avenger."
Peter cut a hand across his mouth to shut Ned up and looked around the room to see if anyone was listening. No one appeared to be, all lost in their own experiments. Peter didn't want anyone hearing them talking about this stuff. Though he was sure no one was going to figure out he was Spider-Man from this conversation—no one would ever believe it was him—if Flash heard them talking about the Avengers, he'd use it as an excuse to give Peter a hard time, and he was already stressed enough.
"I'm not going to be an Avenger," he whispered. "I am going to pass this test, though."
His voice was not as confident as his words, as he really felt out of his depth. If only Mr. Stark was closer, if he'd talk. He was thousands of miles away in India now, doing big important Tony Stark things, leaving Peter alone to deal with these weapons.
Peter really wished he'd not decided to test him now, that he'd given him a few years to develop his skills first.
"What are you doing, Mr. Thompson," Mr. Hapgood asked, his tone bored but finally looking up from his book.
"Just an experiment," Flash said.
He took a yellow box from the table in front of him, one with a bold black radiation trefoil on the lid. He opened the clasp and pulled out a large rock.
"Uh, Flash, maybe that's not a good idea," Peter said, stowing the glowing core in his pocket and moving towards him. Flash wasn't as smart as he liked to think, but he wasn't usually stupid. However, handling a uranium-rich material wasn't a smart thing to do.
"Shut it, Penis," Flash said. "I know what I'm doing."
Mr. Hapgood moved forward and said, "Mr. Thompson, what are you doing?" again, though his tone was more forceful now.
They had used these uranium rocks for experiments before, but they'd used all the protective gear, and Flash wasn't.
Peter moved towards him, planning to intervene and stop him before he hurt himself, but when he was a foot away from Flash, his pocket started to burn.
He took the power core out, which was now pulsing with bright light, and his breath caught with panic. The tremor he'd felt before was now a distinct throb, and Peter's spider-sense was screaming at him.
"Everyone out!" he shouted, running towards the cloud chamber with confused questions surrounding him.
He knew he must look like a lunatic, shouting at them and running around with no perceivable threat apart from what looked like a glow ball in his hands, but he was terrified and repeated the order at a shout.
He yanked open the cloud chamber, threw the core in, but he was a moment too late. It exploded with a huge pulse of energy, and he flew through the air, hitting other warm bodies, and crashed into the opposite wall.
There was screaming, and the fire alarm was blaring. Beneath that, Peter could hear a crackle of flames. He scrambled to his feet and called to Ned, his eyes darting around. The cloud chamber had torn open and was sparking. There was debris that had been ceiling tiles and plasterboard walls on the ground, furniture was upended and smashed, and the room was starting to fill with smoke from a fire started on a pile of textbooks.
Pushing aside his horror at what had happened, what he had done, Peter looked around, assessing the injuries he could see and searching for the worst through the smoke, which was making it hard to see.
There had been many people in the room with him, some now bleeding and others crying. Mr. Hapgood seemed to be the worst injured; he was unconscious, and there was a gash on his head that was bleeding profusely.
"Everyone out," Peter called, moving to Mr. Hapgood and hoisting him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Come on!"
Some people got to their feet, nursing injuries and some limping, and hurried towards the door in a chaotic mosh of crying people, but there were more than remained sitting in shock. The smoke was starting to fill the room, burning Peter's eyes and scratching his throat. Peter kicked Flash, who was staring into space, and said, "Move, Flash!"
Flash glared up at him and then got to his feet, shook his head experimentally, and then barrelled towards the door.
Peter knew they all needed to go out, but he could only carry one person at a time, and he was really worried about Mr. Hapgood, so he carried him out, urging people to follow. The smoke was growing thicker, and the heat from the fire increased as it spread, which seemed to snap people out of their shocked inertia. They began to rush towards the door, and Peter stayed at their rear. As important as he knew it was to get Mr. Hapgood out, he didn't want anyone to be left behind. As they exited in a rush into the hall, he stayed behind the crowd, making sure no one lagged.
His eyes found Ned at the door, who was bleeding from a cut over his eye and looked pale and shocked, and he said, "You okay?"
"No. I mean, yeah. I'm just… Dude, what happened?"
Peter shook his head. He knew what had happened, he'd blown up a classroom with that power core, but he couldn't say that in front of other people. He felt sick with horror already. He could have killed someone. What the hell was he thinking, bringing it into school?
If this was a test, and he'd believed it was, he had just failed epically and put a whole room full of people at risk.
The air grew fresher the closer to the door they got, and more people began to appear, teachers that were working the weekend, too, and the janitor holding a mop.
"What happened?" Mr. Morita asked.
"Someone tried to blow us up!" Flash said, shoving his way to the front of the queue and rushing at the door.
"Okay, calm down," Mr. Morita said. "The fire crew and ambulances are on their way. Peter, who do you have there?" he asked, his eyes finding Peter and his burden.
"Mr. Hapgood," Peter said. "He's unconscious and has a head injury."
Mr. Morita and the janitor rushed forward and took Mr. Hapgood from Peter, carrying him between them towards the door.
Relieved of his burden, Peter's eyes examined the others in the corridor. No one looked like they had serious injuries, but they were all clearly shaken, and many were crying.
Peter scanned their faces, doing a headcount, and then he realized there was someone missing—someone he would usually have noticed at once.
He grabbed Ned's arm and said, "Liz! She's not here."
Ned gaped. "Peter…"
"I've got to get her out!"
"No! The room's on fire. I know you're… you know… but this is serious, Peter. Let the fire crew get her."
"It might be too late," Peter said roughly. "Get outside. Take care of the others. I'll go back for her."
He shook off Ned's restraining hand and ran back toward the classroom, into the smoke which wanted to blind him and then stopping dead at the edge of the flames which baked him with their heat.
"Liz!" he shouted. "Liz, where are you!"
He could hear no response over the fire alarm blaring, and he started to search the room by hand, lifting furniture, bent low to avoid the smoke.
"Liz," he said, his voice rasping now from the smoke and starting to cough. "Are you here?"
He skirted the flames, which were highest in the middle of the room, lifted aside a lab table, and saw a shape lying motionless beneath. The flames licked at the table already, and the smoke made it hard to see.
"Liz!" he cried and then choked.
He shoved the table away and scooped his arms under her. She moaned as he pulled her against his chest, horror filling him, and she roused.
"Daddy…" she wheezed.
"It's Peter. Peter Parker. You're okay. I'm getting you out," he said.
"Peter? What happened?"
"There was an accident," he said, coughing again. "Can you hold your breath? There's too much smoke."
In response, she coughed and said, "My inhaler."
Sick but knowing what he needed to do, Peter said, "I'll come back for it. I've got to get you out."
Holding her close and back bent as low as he could while holding her tight, he hurried out of the room, skirting the licking flames, into the slightly fresher air of the hall. When it was safe to do so, he straightened up and started running. The open door ahead of them seemed to have a siren call, and he ran to it, still coughing and listening to Liz wheeze.
"We're almost there," he rasped. "I've got you."
They burst into the open air, and Peter rushed Liz to where the grouping of teachers and students were. Betty burst into tears at the sight of Liz in Peter's arms, and he tried to reassure her she was okay, but his voice seemed to have deserted him in favor of coughing.
Mr. Morita took Liz from his arms and laid her on a bench, her chest still rasping and sirens approaching, and Mrs. Warren placed her arm around Peter's back and said, "Take it easy, Peter, nice deep breaths."
Peter obeyed, drawing them in and feeling them aggravate his chest, and then he slipped out from under her arm and ran back toward the building.
As dangerous as he knew it was to go back into that fire, Liz was wheezing terribly, and there were no ambulances there yet. People could die from asthma, and he was not about to let someone else die because of him.
Someone caught his hand and shouted his name, but he ripped himself free and ran inside, no air to tell them Liz needed her inhaler.
The smoke was even thicker in the hall now, and he tried to cover his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, but that made it even harder to breathe through his panic, and he gave up.
He reached the classroom and bent double as he dodged the flames and rushed inside. The smoke was thick, and he felt like he was choking to death, but he pushed himself forward.
For the first time, his close scrutiny of Liz, which MJ called stalking, paid off, as he knew her backpack was black with silver keyfobs hanging from it. He edged the room, where the fire had not yet reached, and hoped Liz's bag had not been found by the flames already.
He found a pile of them near the coat hooks, and he rifled through them, discarding the ones which did not match, eventually finding Liz's and clutching it to his chest as he ran back towards the door. The flames were blocking him, though, and he felt a thrill of horror as he realized he was trapped.
He cried out for help, and then a voice roused in his mind, a voice which sounded like Ben's. "You can do this, Peter. You can get out. Liz needs you out there."
Nodding and rasping for air, Peter hooked the bag over his arm, took two steps back, and then leaped up, fingers clinging to the ceiling. He edged his way over the flames, the soles of his feat baking in the heat. When he reached the door, he gripped the jamb and swung his way out.
Though the air in the hall was clearer, he was choking with each breath now, and when he reached the door, which seemed to take an age, he was stumbling.
Ned met him, his hands catching Peter's shoulders, and he said, "Dude, what were you thinking?"
"Liz… inhaler," Peter rasped, shoving the bag into his chest.
Ned gaped wordlessly, then grabbed the bag and ran it to where Liz was now sitting on a bench, clutching her chest.
Peter allowed himself to stop now, knowing everyone was safe, and he dropped to his knees and tried to breathe.
He could hear sirens approaching, and he was filled with relief. Someone tried to help him to his feet, but he couldn't stand. He heard Ned's voice chattering nervously in his ear, and Mr. Morita was saying his name, but it was a blur in his ears; the thing he could hear clearest was the rasping of his lungs.
Then a voice cut through the chaos, one he would know anywhere, and he dragged his face up and saw May running towards him, still in her scrubs—she must have come straight here from the hospital.
Her hands cupped his face, and she said, "Baby, are you okay?" in a voice which shook.
Peter gasped and coughed, tears filling his eyes, and he whispered, "I messed up, May."
She knelt in front of him, her hand cradling the back of his head and her free hand tugging open his collar to give him space to breathe, and he started to cry.
He was filled with relief that they'd all made it out, but he was horrified by what he had done.
He could have killed someone.
So… I told you I was going to mix things up. What did you think? This was hard to write as I'm not great with action, but I had a lot of help from my dear friend Gredelina1 who read the first draft and gave great pointers to up the ante and give it more impact. I hope our work paid off.
Until next time…
Jadey xxx