He ran.
Branches and thorns scratched his face and clawed at his bare arms as if trying to pull him back. The rocky ground cut into his feet nearly making him fall, but still he kept moving. A great expanse of darkness stretched - seemingly forever - in every direction. There was no wind and no sun. Besides his panting, there was no sound, no life. It was eerily still. So cold.
This place resembled his home to some extent. Skyscrapers rose up to meet the sky, cars were left parked along the streets; even the street names were the same. Astoria boulevard, Jackson Avenue and Oak Avenue were a few he passed. Avengers tower - his home - stood tall above everything else.
But in this world, everything was dark. The streets were cracked and the buildings were crumbling, the cars looked as if they'd been abandoned years ago. They were all rusted metal and flat tires. This world was grey; bleached of all color and void of all life.
He took a sharp turn left, then a right, then a left and another left. There was no destination, nowhere to go. No place to hide. If he hid it would only be a matter of time before he'd be found. His wings were tucked up against his weakening body - he barely had enough energy to keep moving, let alone fly.
Snuffling and harsh breathing, accompanied by heavy footfalls grew closer. His spider sense dictated which direction to take in order to avoid his pursuer. But that was only delaying the inevitable.
Too bad something had already found him. Now he just couldn't get caught.