'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.' Peter thought, tapping his fingers on his chair while looking at a nearby clock on the wall. Only a few more minutes remained before his class ended.
"Now class," His teacher—Mr. Harris—began. Hearing this, Peter stopped staring at the wall and looked at his teacher...who was also staring at him. "as we all know, sakuradite is a valuable resource and has a lot of uses, the most prominent being the power source of the Knightmares. Sakuradite is also used to power nearly all of the machinery we use. Peter, can you tell us what are the properties of sakuradite?"
One by one, his classmates turned to look at him. Peter stood up and answered the question. "Sakuradite has both superconductive and radioactive properties. In addition, sakuradite is both extremely unstable and extremely explosive."
"Very good, Peter. Now then-" Before Mr. Harris could finish his sentence, the school bell suddenly rang, signifying the end of his class.
"Attention, everyone! You're next teacher, Mr. Wescott, just called in sick today. So, unless you have something else to do, you can go home now." Mr. Harris announced before leaving the classroom.
Peter picked up his stuff and left the room, smiling to himself. The demonstration starts at exactly an hour from now. And because his class finished early, he had plenty of time to spare. He made his way to a nearby bus stop while thinking to himself.
'I should probably text May and Ben that I'll be a bit late.' Peter thought as he walked. 'Although, I'm just attending a demonstration, how long could a demonstration possibly take? I can probably make it back home in time.'
As he got closer to the bus stop, he spotted and familiar face standing next to it. Harry Osborn, his best friend. They met last year when Peter enrolled into his current school. Harry's father, Norman Osborn, was the CEO of Oscorp - one of Britannia's biggest mining companies. He and his father moved to Area 11 to oversee the mining operation on Mount Fuji...at least that's what he was told. No one actually knew what Harry's father was doing here in Area 11, not even Harry himself. According to him, his father doesn't discuss the specifics of his work with anyone, apart from the employees working on the project. All Peter knew was that Harry's father was working with some very important people.
"Hey, Harry." Peter greeted while sitting down next to him.
Harry smiled at his best friend and replied, "Oh, hey Pete. What are you doing here?"
"Just waiting for a bus to come around. I'm heading towards the science exhibit downtown, wanna come?"
"Can't, sorry, my dad wants me to attend another business meeting with him," Harry groaned.
'A business meeting? Man, that sucks,' Peter thought, feeling bad that his friend has to suffer. "Hey, cheer up. It can't be that bad, can it? At least you get to meet your dad's business partners."
"Oh, you have no idea," Harry replied with a weak smile on his face. "I literally do nothing but sit on a chair next to my dad and wait until he finishes his meeting. He thinks it'll help me prepare for when I take over as the company's CEO- Oh, there he is right now." Harry said as a a black limo appeared around the corner.
The limo stopped in front of them as an elderly man got out of the driver's seat and walked towards Harry. He was wearing a standard butler uniform, complete with a little bowtie on his neck.
"Hello, Mr. Osborn. Shall we depart?" He asked Harry, completely ignoring Peter's existence.
"Hello, Bernard..." Harry peered into the limo. "Where's dad? I thought he was going pick me up?"
"Your father is waiting for you at the meeting, sir." The man, Bernard, replied without missing a beat.
"I see..." Harry looked downcast as he entered the limo. Bernard followed suite.
"Bye, Pete! I'll see you tomorrow!" Harry called out to his friend as he and his butler drove away.
Watching his friend ride away on an expensive vehicle, Peter couldn't help but feel a tad bit jealous of him. Harry's family was rich, powerful, and didn't have to worry about things such as bills and...oh, right. He should probably text Aunt May and Uncle Be-
"Damn Eleven! You stole it, didn't you?!" Someone suddenly shouted, breaking his line of thought. Peter turned his head to see two people, one taller than the other, towering over a downtrodden Eleven.
"N-no I-I-" The Eleven stammered as the other two raised their fists.
Seeing this, Peter quickly got out of his seat and called out to the two. "Hey! What gives?!"
The two turned their attention towards him, letting the Eleven beneath them crawl away.
"This damn Eleven stole my money!" The bigger of the two angrily yelled while pointing at the Eleven, who was now cowering in a corner.
"Your money?" Peter asked. "How much did he steal?"
"Uhm, well...it was in my wallet...which he also stole! That's why I don't know how much he stole!" The man retorted, though his voice lost some of it's bravado.
"You mean that wallet in your pocket?" Peter asked, spotting a brown wallet in the man's pocket.
The man immediately pushed his wallet deeper into his pocket as his friend snapped at Peter, "What does it matter to you anyway?"
"Just curious," Peter replied. "Besides, there's a police precinct around the corner. I could ask them to help you find your money."
"N- No, that won't be necessary," the smaller one stammered. "We just need to get this Eleven to give us back our money!"
"I'm sure the police can help with that. Oh, look! There's one over there! Police! Hey, Police!" Peter called out to a nearby police man.
Seeing this, the two men began to panic. "Oh, hey! Would you look at that, the money was still in my wallet!" The bigger of the two announced before taking his wallet out of his pocket and waving it in the air.
"Oh, how silly of us," the smaller one said. "Of course there's no way an Eleven could possibly steal anything from us. Hahaha. Well, we better get go-"
"Gah!" The Eleven suddenly cried out in pain. A faint crack could be heard coming from his hand.
"Whoops. That didn't sound good. Better get that checked." The smaller of the two mocked as he stepped off of the Eleven's hand and walked off with his friend.
"You alright?" Peter asked the Eleven, who was now clutching his broken hand.
"Y- Yeah, thanks. I have to go now, sorry about that." The Eleven thanked him before walking away.
'Poor guy,' Peter thought, watching the Eleven walk while clutching his hand. 'Ah, well, it's not like I can do anything about it.'
He walked back to the bus station, spotting a bus nearing him.
As soon as he got on the bus, Peter grabbed his phone and began texting aunt.
'Hi, May. Heading to the science exhibit downtown, might be late for dinner.'
Aunt May's reply was instantaneous: 'Okay, although, why exactly are you going to the exhibit?'
'There's going to be a demonstration.'
'Oh? About what?'
'The flyer said: How Sakuradite can affect the genetics of different animals and insects.'
'Well, that sound's interesting. Enjoy yourself there, young man, but be sure to be back before 6:00.'
'I will, Aunt May. Tell Uncle Ben I said hello.' Peter replied just in time for the bus to stop outside the science exhibit.
He stepped off the bus and walked into the exhibit.
"Woah..." Peter exhaled as he looked around the science exhibit, mouth wide open. Although he came here to attend a demonstration, he couldn't help but be distracted by everything else in the building. From different inventions displayed in glass cases to large screens detailing the life of famous scientists, everything in the exhibit caught his eye.
"Here's video footage of yesterday's terrorist bombings in Osaka. The secretary reported 59 casualties in this incident: 8 Britannians, and 51 others..." The television mounted on a wall to Peter's right boomed. He stopped walking and glanced at the television just in time to see footage of a building exploding.
"To all my imperial subjects! Including, of course, the many cooperative Elevens who choose to serve the empire of Britannia!" Prince Clovis' voice rang out as the prince appeared on live television. "Do you not see my pain? My heart was ripped from my chest only to be torn apart! The remnants are filled with rage and sadness! However, as ruler of Area 11, I will not tolerate terrorism of any kind! Because the battle we fight is a righteous one, a virtuous battle to protect the well-being of one and all! Now then, everyone! I would like you to join me in observance of the eight who died for justice, in the line of duty."
"A moment of silence, please." A female voice announced as Prince Clovis lowered his head. One by one, everyone in the science exhibit, including Peter, did the same.
"Thank you for your time." The news reporter said as the video of Prince Clovis ended and the people in the exhibit went back to what they were doing.
Peter continued walking down the exhibit, gawking in awe at the stuff around him. Eventually, he reached a crowd of people surrounding what seemed to be a giant tesla coil emitting a faint, pink glow. He joined the crowd as a man in a lab coat emerged from a door to their right.
"Welcome, all of you, to today's event." The man greeted them, spreading his arms wide open. "My name is Morgan Jones and today, I am going to show you something truly spectacular! Tell me, have you ever wondered what would happen if you genetically modified a rabbit using highly sophisticated technology that was fueled by sakuradite? Of course you have! And now, using this machine Horizon Labs generously provided for us, we are going find out exactly what happens if we blast a rabbit with enough ionizing radiation to alter its DNA."
The man then produced a button from his coat, pressing it. A small box containing a rabbit then rose from the floor, stopping right between the two tesla coils. Everyone stared at it as Morgan Jones walked over to a lever.
"Stand back, everyone." He warned as he put on safety glasses and firmly grasped the lever. "We are about to blast that rabbit with two thousand REM worth of radiation emitted my sakuradite. Of course, sakuradite in it's raw state doesn't produce enough radiation to harm a person, but using this machine, we can amplify it to over five thousand roentgen. And before any of you ask, no. This will not be harmful to any of you, unless you touch the two coils over there. Now, then. Everybody ready?"
Morgan then put his other hand on the lever as Peter and the crowd took several steps backwards.
Seeing this, Morgan began counting down. "And now, we shall start in ten."
Everybody stiffened.
"Nine."
An assistant in the back pressed a button.
"Eight."
The coils began spinning.
"Seven."
Everyone looked in awe as the coils began spinning faster.
"Six.
A pink spark jumped from the coils, making the rabbit in the box run around frantically.
"Five."
A spider emerges from a crack in the ceiling.
"Four."
It crawls along the ceiling, unnoticed by everyone.
"Three."
The spider positions itself, entranced by the pink sparks coming from the machine.
"Two."
Peter suddenly felt a chill crawl up his spine, making him flinch.
"One."
Morgan flips the lever, sending an electric current into the large machine. It spins faster, rocking the exhibit and sending rays of pink radiation into the box containing the rabbit.
The force of the machine shaking throws the spider above out of balance, sending it tumbling down, onto the coils. Before the spider could touch the coils, it gets zapped with enough ionizing radiation to kill an elephant in weeks, a man in days, an insect in minutes, and a rabbit in sixty seconds.
But this was different. It wasn't a mammal or an insect. It was an arachnid.
A millisecond after the spider gets zapped, the radiation knocks the majority of electrons away from it's body. A millisecond later and the electrons are replaced by an unknown component. The change was small, yet large.
A hundred, milliseconds later and the spider's DNA is altered significantly.
Two hundred milliseconds later and it goes blind.
Three hundred milliseconds later, and the radiation fries its back, turning it to dark blue.
Four hundred milliseconds later, and parts of its body become inflamed, turning bright red.
Five hundred milliseconds later, it touches the coils.
The spinning coil propels the spider across the room, breaking all of it's legs but one, and towards an average teen.
The spider, pained and confused, used its last functioning leg to catch itself. The spider, now blind, crippled, and wounded, lashed out, biting the fleshy surface beneath it. That was it's last action as it fell to the ground, cold and lifeless.
At that moment, Peter suddenly felt a sharp sting on the back of his hand.
"Gah!" He exclaimed, grasping his hand in pain and drawing a few looks from the crowd.
A spider with a blue and red color scheme then dropped from his hand. Peter stared at it in shock as the room suddenly began spinning and his vision blurred. He grabbed his head in pain as his stomach began churning. He had to get out of here as soon as possible.
"Excuse me, pardon me, sorry!" Peter mumbled as he pushed himself out of the crowd, trying his best not to fall over.
"You alright, pal?" One of the people he passed asked him in a worried voice.
Peter had to physically fight back a groan as he replied, "Yeah, yeah. I'm good."
"If you say so. Just for the record, the nurse's office I down the hall to your left." The man said, noticing the sweat building up on Peter's forehead.
"Thanks!" Peter replied, following the man's directions.
'C'mon, Pete, Pull yourself together. You're almost there. Just have to take a few more steps and you're there.' Peter thought to himself, trying his best to focus on the door at the end of the hall.
He pushed the door open and was greeted by the scent of lavender washing across his face. At least it helped keep his lunch down.
"Oh, my. What happened to you?" The nurse asked, walking towards Peter who by now had collapsed into a seat.
"Spider bite." He groaned as the nurse put a thermometer under his armpit.
Something cold was then put on his forehead as the nurse continued asking questions. "Did you, by any chance, see what type of spider bit you?"
"No, sorry. Although I'm pretty sure it had a blue and red color scheme." Peter groaned, pressing the ice pack on his head.
"Blue and red?" The nurse questioned. "I don't think a spider like that exists, unless you're talking about a black widow spider. Although, from the looks of it, it looks like a brown recluse spider bite."
"Brown rec-what now?"
"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it. I'll have this fixed in no time," The nurse replied, taking another ice pack out of a refilrigerator and pressing it on the bite mark on his hand.
"Thanks, miss. You're a life saver." Peter smiled at her as his headache began subsiding.
"Don't mention it." She replied. "Besides, it's my jo- gah!"
Before she could finish her sentence, the wall behind them exploded, sending the two of them flying.
Peter was thrown across the room, his head colliding with cold, hard concrete.
He stood up, clutching his head as he tried to steady himself. Unfortunately for him, his headache, coupled with the recent concussion caused him to lose his balance, forcing him to grab the broken wall in support.
"What the fuck just happened?!" He cried out as he felt blood stream from a cut on his arm.
The nurse that was treating him now lay on the opposite side of the room, her head smashed to bits with pieces of her brain splattered across the floor. The sight of it made Peter bend over and puke his guts out.
'I'm hallucinating. I gotta be, right?' Peter tried to reason with himself as he crawled out of the wreckage of the building and into the streets. 'I mean, there's no way this is happening. It must've been the spider. Yeah, I'm hallucinating because of the spider bi-' He didn't get to finish the thought before he was pushed aside by several people, running past him. He managed to catch himself on a nearby car, steadying himself.
He looked at the group of people, confused as to why they were running. A scream suddenly rang out, making Peter turn his head just in time to see three Knightmare frames massacre groups of civilians.
Suddenly, one of them began heading towards Peter, firing its guns in his direction.
Peter tried to run, he really did. The sight of a Knightmare frame rumbling in their direction, guns firing would make anyone run. Unfortunately for him, his feet didn't want to move, nor did his body. As much as he wanted to, his body remained rooted to the spot.
The Knightmare suddenly stopped a few hundred meters from him before firing one of its rockets at him. The rocket hit the car beside him, blowing it up and sending Peter flying through the air once more. This time, instead of hitting his head on concrete, Peter went straight through the concrete, landing inside a building full of people.
He sat up, clutching his abdomen. Every breath he took stung like hell. The people inside screamed something at him. The ringing in his ears made it impossible to know what they said.
Just then, the doors to the building was blasted open and several members of the Britannia militia entered. For a split second, Peter celebrated, thinking they were going to help them. Instead, the soldiers lifted their guns, much to his horror. Peter couldn't do anything but watch as every person in the building was gunned down. He sat, frozen in shock at what he just witnessed — Britannian soldiers massacring innocent civilians. Civilians who, as far as he could tell, did nothing wrong.
Peter braced himself for the hail of bullets about to come his way. It never came. Instead, the soldier's cleared the building, completely missing him. He looked around, confused as as why they spared him. Then, he saw the reason. He was covered in dust, cuts, and bruises. And around him were broken pieces of concrete. They probably thought he was dead.
'What the fuck is happening?!' Peter thought as he picked himself up and walked towards the door, careful not to make any noise, not that it mattered. The screams, explosions, and gunshots would've drowned out any sound he made.
Peter stared in horror at the scene before him. Dead bodies littering the streets of Shinjuku Ghetto, Britannian soldiers executing civilians, and Knightmare frames destroying buildings.
For the entire time he lived here, he couldn't think of any reason as to why Britannia would do this to them. What could they have possibly done? All Peter did was live with his aunt and-
"Oh, shit." Peter's blood ran cold as cold sweat formed on his brow. Their apartment was a few blocks from where he was.
Wasting no time at all, Peter sprinted out of the building and into the streets. Thankfully, the soldiers seemed to have cleared this area.
He sprinted as fast as he towards their apartment building. Everywhere he looked, the dead and dying could be seen. He forced himself to look away and focus on getting home as fast as he could. Surprisingly, it didn't take long for him to reach it. In what would normally be a thirty minute bus ride, Peter crossed it in less than five minutes. He chalked it up to adrenaline.
As he got nearer, he suddenly spotted a group of soldiers exiting a building, forcing him to run into an alley to avoid being spotted.
'Great, now what?' He thought as peeked around the corner, watching the soldiers execute another person in cold blood. 'Right, not going that way anytime soon.'
Peter looked around, trying to find a way he could sneak past the soldiers. Just then, he spotted a tall wire fence at the end of the alley. He could use the street past it to go on an alternate route to his apartment...if he could scale it.
Peter stepped back, preparing to jump onto the top of the fence. At this point, Peter expected to land somewhere near the middle of the fence and scale it from there. Instead, he went above the fence, passing it completely.
The moment he landed, Peter whispered to himself in shock, "How the hell..."
He stared at the fence, wondering how he jumped over it. From the looks alone, the fence must've been around one and a half meters tall. Once again, he chalked it up to adrenaline.
Screams and gunshots echoed through the streets as Peter ran towards his apartment building. Soon enough, the building came into view. Peter released a sigh of relief at the fact that it was still standing. The moment was short-lived as he spotted a group of soldiers accompanied by a Knightmare heading towards the building.
Quickly running into a ruined store near the building, Peter hid himself behind a bookshelf as the soldiers stopped in front of the store. His body tensed, ready to run at the first sight of danger. From where he was hiding, he could hear the soldiers talking amongst themselves.
"Right, everyone formine here! Not a single Eleven is allowed to pass. If you spot one, shoot on sight!" One of them, most likely the leader, commanded.
"What about that building?" One of them asked, pointing towards the apartment building. Cold sweat formed om Peter's brows as he clenched his fists.
The leader looked at the soldier who asked the question and answered, "I already sent a squad to clear it."
At those words, Peter's eyes widened in shock and fear. What if he was too late and Aunt May and Uncle Ben were already...
'No, they're alive. They have to be,' Peter thought, pushing the thought from his head.
Peter peeked out from his hiding spot, seeing several soldiers standing outside the store, blocking his exit. He was trapped. Scanning the room for anything that could help him, he spotted a door at the back.
'Perfect,' He thought, pushing it open.
Behind the door was a staircase leading leading to the second floor. He didn't know what was up there, but it was better than being trapped down here.
At the top of the stairs was another door. Peter pushed it open, revealing the destroyed second floor of the building. A charred body lay in the middle of the room, an arm missing with the other twisted beyond recognition. Peter had to physically force himself not to vomit.
The rest of the room was destroyed, presumably by a Knightmare. The walls were gone, along with the ceiling. On the bright side, Peter could see his apartment from here. Now, all he needed to do was find a way to reach it. Thankfully, the store he was in was facing the bulding's emergency escape staircase. If he managed to jump as high as earlier, he could, in theory, reach it.
Pressing his back to the wall behind him, Peter crouched down, getting ready to jump. Cold wind rushed past his face as he leapt into the air, soaring past the soldiers below him. Unfortunately, just as he was about to land, an explosion suddenly rocked the building, causing the stairs to detach from the building and crumble. Peter hit the side of the building at full force, almost making him fall. Emphasis on "almost." Just as he was about to fall, he stuck out his hand and grabbed the nearest thing he could, which just so happened to be the side of the building. Thing was, he didn't grab anything. No, his hand was, quite literally, sticking to the wall.
'Since when could I- no. No time to think about that now. Need to get to Aunt May and Uncle Ben.' Peter thought, quickly used his newfound wall crawling ability to climb up the building. At this point, he couldn't blame it on adrenaline. Something else was at work here. But for now, his priority was to get to his aunt and uncle before they're killed.
Screams and gunshots could be heard inside the building as Peter climbed higher and higher. Thankfully, the higher he climbed, the quieter it got. Of course, he could still hear the screams, but it wasn't as loud.
Soon enough, he came across a familiar window, one leading into his apartment.
"Ben? Ben, what's happening?!" A familiar frightened voice called out.
Peter let out a sigh of relief as his uncle's voice answered, "I don't know, May. Stay here, I'll take a look."
Peter looked through the window and saw his aunt crouching behind their dining table, covering her head with her hands while his uncle cautiously stood near the door, Knife in hand.
Peter smiled, relieved to see his family still alive. If they hurried, he could carry them on his back and climb down the building unnoticed.
Before Peter could do anything, the door was suddenly kicked down as two soldiers burst in, guns drawn. Peter could only watch in horror as his aunt and uncle were gunned down mercilessly. The two soldiers looked around the room, trying to see if there was anyone else there. Seeing no sign of anyone else, they exited the room and continued upstairs. As soon as the soldiers were out of sight, Peter quickly climbed through the window and rushed to his aunt and uncle's side.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no" Peter whispered while grabbing May's wrist and pressing his fingers against it, trying to find a pulse...all he could feel was blood coating his fingers.
A weird tingling sensation suddenly erupted from the back of his head, telling him to look to his left. Heeding it, Peter turned his head to see a lone soldier standing in the doorway, gun drawn. Peter jumped away just in time for the bullets to miss him, hitting his aunt's body instead. Regaining his footing, he ran towards the kitchen as fast as he could. A hail of bullets followed him, hitting a nearby shelf in the process and knocking its contents on the floor. Taking cover behind a broken counter, Peter glanced at his aunt and uncle's cold, lifeless bodies laying on the floor, their eyes wide open, staring back at him. A hail of bullets forced him to stop staring at the bodies. He focused instead on the soldier standing in the doorway.
Seeing the man who killed his aunt and uncle standing over their bodies, something snapped inside him. His vision turned red, his hands closed into fists. All he wanted to do was rip the soldier before him into pieces. Unfortunately for him, there was a slight problem. The soldier had a gun, he didn't.
Peter scanned the room, trying to find something, anything that can help him. A sack with white powder suddenly caught his eye. He quickly grabbed the sack of flour, throwing it towards the soldier. The sack was immediately shot down, spraying its contents everywhere, temporarily blinding the soldier. Peter, seizing the opportunity, lunged across the room and punched the soldier in the face with all of his strength.
At this point, Peter didn't have a plan. He fully expected to die right then and there. What he did not expect, however, was for the soldier's head and helmet to be crushed by the force of his punch, sending blood, brain matter, and pieces of glass from the soldier's goggles all across the room. This shook Peter from his trance as he looked on in horror at the soldier's head...or what remained of it. The soldier's head was gone, save for the nape, which his fist had only grazed.
"what the fu-?!" Peter shouted in surprise before realizing his mistake and covering his mouth, praying nobody heard him. Unfortunately for him, Footsteps from the floor above suddenly stopped.
"What the hell was that?" a voice asked.
"It came from the room below." another voice answered "Holland, Garfield, I thought the two of you cleared that floor?"
"We did," a man with a thick accent answered "An old couple, in their late fifties. Went down in a couple of shots."
"Wait, where's Doverand?" Another voice asked.
Suddenly, the dead soldier's radio cracked to life. "*kzzzzt* Doverand? Come in, Doverand. *kzzzzt*"
'Shit.' Peter thought, panicking. 'At any second, the soldiers upstairs are going to come down here and try to kill me. Maybe I can sneak out through the front door.'
Peter walked over to the window from whence he entered and looked down. A line of Britannian soldiers were formed at the bottom, along with three Knightmare frames. There goes his plan to sneak out.
Peter shifted his gaze to a nearby building. It was twice as tall as the shop from earlier, and twice as close.
'Hmm...if I jump, maybe I can reach it," he thought, measuring the distance between his position and the building. 'Although, the soldiers below might see me...what difference does it make? If I go down the stairs, the soldiers below will see me. If I stay here, the ones above will come down here and see me...'
Before he could decide, the weird tingling sensation from earlier returned, telling him to jump right. Realizing that the last time it flared up, he was about to get shot, Peter did as it told him to, jumping just in time for a hail of bullets to miss him.
The soldier who shot at him continued firing his gun as Peter quickly grabbed the nearest thing he could reach, which just so happened to be their dining table, and hurled it towards the soldier, knocking him out. Two more soldiers entered the room. One of them began shooting at him while the other dragged their unconscious friend out of the room. Quickly lowering his head, Peter ran back to the kitchen while bullets flew past him. Taking cover behind the sink, Peter considered his options.
'Right. Well, that limits my options, doesn't it? There's two ways out of this place now. Through the door or through the window,' he thought. 'Either I jump through the window and pray I don't die, or I try to fight my way out of his one...who am I kidding, I have nothing to protect myself with. And if I did manage to get through these two, how many more are waiting for me outside? And if I make it outside, then what? Knightmares are targeting everyone in Shinjuku Ghetto, including civilians. On the other hand, If I somehow make the jump and reach the next building, I can use the debris to try and sneak past the soldiers below...'
"Dammit..." Peter cursed under his breath.
Taking one last look at his family's bodies, he pulled the destroyed kitchen stove towards him and yanked the burner off the top. He quickly disassembled it and looked inside the tank body — It was halfway full.
'Good. Now all I need is a piece of cloth, matches and a- there!' He thought, grabbing an empty beer bottle. It had a huge crack running through the body, but it'll do.
Peter used his right hand to pour the contents of the gas tank into the bottle, while the other grabbed a nearby apron, soaking it in LPG before jamming it into the bottle. He looked around the room, trying to find the last piece he needed: matches. Unfortunately for him, they were on the other side of the room right next to a soldier's foot.
'Great. Now what?' He thought to himself. He had successfully made an improvised molotov cocktail but lacked the means to ignite it. Gunfire continued to erupt from the other side of the room as an idea formed in his head.
He grabbed a frying pan laying on the ground, raising it above his head with one hand while using the other to hold the molotov wick at the bottom of the pan.
Soon enough, a barrage of bullets hit the pan, knocking it out of Peter's grip and sending sparks flying through the air. The sparks generated by the bullets hit the wick of the cocktail, igniting it.
Peter quickly hurled the molotov at his attackers, setting one of them ablaze as the others jumped back, screaming, trying to avoid the flames. In the confusion, Peter ran towards the window as fast as he could, a trail of bullets following closely behind. Shards of shattered glass pierced his feet as he jumped out of his apartment and onto the ruined building next to it.
Peter hit the floor with a thud, breaking his right hand upon impact.
"I- I made it! I actually made it!" Peter smiled to himself, clutching his broken hand as he picked himself up.
The moment was cut short by a barrage of bullets hitting the wall next to him, missing him by an inch. Peter quickly dived behind a collapsed pillar, shielding himself from his attackers.
After a few seconds, the bullets stopped, much to Peter's confusion. He peeked over his hiding spot, trying to see what happened. The soldiers shooting at him from the apartment window were gone, leaving nothing but charred concrete in their place. Cautiously, Peter walked over to the edge, peering down at the ground below him. The soldiers below were nowhere to be seen as well.
All of a sudden, the tingling feeling in the back of his head flared up once more. Peter quickly looked around him, trying to see where the danger was coming from. Strangely enough, as far as he could tell, he was the only person in the room. He couldn't hear any footsteps, nor gunfire. As soon as he took a step forward, the tingling feeling got stronger, confusing Peter even more as he couldn't see where the danger was coming from.
A mechanical, whirring sound suddenly came from the ground below Peter's feet. He looked down just in time to see the ground beneath him explode, throwing him into the air, and slamming him into the ceiling, cracking it, and almost cracking his back.
Pain. That was the only thing Peter could feel as he fell to the floor. That, and shrapnel from the explosion cutting his skin, which, technically, is also pain.
In his entire life, Peter has never experienced this kind of pain. His right hand was broken, his ribs cracked, his body riddled with cuts and bruises. It was a miracle he was still alive.
Gritting his teeth, Peter slowly sat up, trying to see what could have possibly created the explosion. He didn't have to wait long as the mechanical sound from earlier returned, this time accompanied by the sound of metal driving over concrete. Peter squinted his eyes, focusing on a large, shadowy figure emerging from the dust. His eyes widened in fear as he realized what it was.
"Oh, shit..." He whispered, fear coatingnhis voice.
The figure emerging was a Knightmare frame. One that was getting dangerously close. The only thing preventing it from giving Peter's head six new holes was the dust coating the air, obscuring the Knightmare's visibility.
Peter tried to crawl away, but found that he couldn't. His legs were stuck under a pile of rubble too heavy for him to move.
Panicking, Peter quickly grabbed a a piece rebar laying on the floor and began hitting the pile, hoping to loosen it enough for him to move his legs. This turned out to be a horrible decision as the sound of metal hitting concrete signaled the Knightmare before him to fire three round in his direction. Peter ducked just in time for the bullets to miss. Unfortunately for him, the damage was done and the Knightmare began unloading it's gun in his direction. Peter covered his head as bullets hit the wall behind him, missing him only by the skin of his teeth.
Peter clenched his eyes shut, preparing himself as the dust began to settle, and the trail of bullets began closing in on him.
Just as a bullet grazed his arm, a familiar voice echoed across the ghetto.
"Attention all forces. Cease fire at once." Prince Clovis' voice boomed, halting the Knightmare in front of Peter. "I, Clovis, third prince of Britannia and royal viceroy of Area Eleven, hereby ommand you, all forces are ordered to cease fire at once. You also cease destruction of any buildings or property. All casualties, whether Britannian or Eleven, shall be treated equally and without prejudice. In the name of Clovis la Britannia, you are hereby ordered, cease fire at once. I shall allow no further fighting."
At those words, the gunshots, screaming, and explosions ceased completely, leaving the ghetto in stunned silence.
Why did Prince Clovis stop the attack? Was he the one that initiated it in the first place? Questions swirled inside Peter's head as the Knightmare in front of him backed away, letting sunlight hit his face. Luckily, the Knightmare's assault loosened the pile of rubble enough that he was able to yank his legs out from under it.
Peter stood up, balancing himself on the wall behind him. The Knightmare from earlier was nowhere to be found, much to his relief. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching. Peter tried to walk forwards, out of the building, but ended up falling to the ground, face first.
The footsteps began getting closer and closer as he slowly sat up, groaning in pain and clutching his abdomen.
"Well, that doesn't look good," Peter muttered, staring at a wound on his arm, trailing from his hand to his shoulder.
At this state, he'll pass out from blood loss in a few seconds, more or less. All he could for now was wait for the owner of the footsteps to reach him and, hopefully, help him. Although, from what he'd seen, the chances of receiving help from whoever was coming was low. Very, very low. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have much of a choice.
"Hey! Over here! I need help!" Peter shouted at the top of his lungs.
The footsteps suddenly stopped before getting louder and faster. Peter leaned back on the collapsed pillar, his vision blurring.
The last thing he saw before blacking out was the smoldering ruins of the place he once called home.