hiya, here is a short and sweet chapter for you guys! I have a much longer chapter in the works but felt this one would be a good stand-alone. enjoy, and as always read review! I love hearing feedback and input from anyone, guests included!
Peter had to admit, the Avenger's Tower had decent food. I should probably be suspicious of anything they may have put in the chicken sandwich, but at this point, I'm too hungry to care. As Rhett Butler would say, frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Not that I'd ever be that dramatic with my Spiderman exits, but who knows?
He proceeded to lick the left-over crumbs that still lingered around his gloved thumb. If his Aunt had been there to see his dreadful manners he would be in hot water. Why did you have to leave so soon Aunt May? Frowning as he pushed away the memory, he looked down at his appearance. His spandex suit was semi-trashed at this point. Rips and tears littered his torso and extremities, not to mention the hole burned into his side. How flattering. Peter rolled his eyes in dismay.
With his stomach at least half full after the sandwich he gobbled down in haste, Spiderman clumsily pulled down the mask that was edged between his nose and mouth. He had previously lifted the hem right above his lip while turning away from the glass panels in order to consume the food Bruce had dropped off.
Sleep was anchoring down his eyelids as a muffled yawn escaped his lips. Taking a sweeping glance around the room and then a peek at his web-shooters, Peter decided he would make an impromptu hammock given that the room was void of all other furniture.
Unfortunately, both of his web-shooters sustained damage during his game of defense with the Avengers. Rolling and flexing both of his wrists, Peter noticed the web-shooter on his left wrist was completely crushed.
Sighing he dejectedly attempted to shoot a web from his spinnerets, hoping for anything to project out, only to have his suspicion confirmed as an uncoordinated spray of webs emerged from his wrist. Ignoring his busted left wrist web-shooter, Spiderman attempted to fire his right wrist, web-shooter.
A thin, but nonetheless, powerful web shot out of his right wrist spinneret. Relief filled Peter's tightened chest, as he had thought both of his web-shooters were done for.
When first discovering his powers, the freakiest of them all was his newfound ability to organically produce webs. Located on the soft, fleshy underside of his wrists, penny length slits developed into spinnerets—the same openings spiders have in their abdomens.
While firing his webs, Spiderman needed something to dictate the speed and direction of his webs or else various tangled fragments would spew out in every direction. Without his working web-shooters, which provided the mechanics that allowed him to aim and fire webs accurately, Peter's organic webs would be less accurate than silly string. And probably would look just as weird, he thought dejectedly. Even after a few years of practicing and becoming accustomed to the feeling of webs literally coming out of his wrist, Spiderman still occasionally felt like an outsider. Like a freak.
Subconsciously rubbing where the damaged web-shoot had dug into his spinnerets, Spiderman crawled up to the heightened ceiling corner once again but this time he actually faced the wall. Sticking a few lines on both sides of the adjacent corners, a small cocoon-like hammock was sloppily fashioned.
"Finally," Peter whispered to himself.
Gingerly lifting his battered torso and curling his knees into his chest, Peter released a weary sigh as he nestled into his silky cocoon. A small haven in the nook of the cell-like room.
The vigilante sighed in irritation as the new position put a strain in new places of his body. Shifting in the cocoon for a more comfortable position, a low moan slipped Peter's lips before he found a more supportive position. There, that's much better.
Without realizing the lights had been dimmed slightly from their previous piercing brightness, Peter gave a silent thanks as his headache started to ease. Feeling safe for the moment, with his semi-satisfied stomach ceasing its growls, Spiderman closed his eyes. A wave of darkness took over his exhausted form as he slipped into blissful, dreamless, sleep.