-Peter in an Alley-
Peter stood under the flickering street light. Raindrops drummed steadily against his hoodie, each one a cold tap that soaked through the fabric. He watched the rich and entitled walk in and out of the art gallery just a couple of meters down the path. All dressed in their expensive suits or the latest fashion trends, they seemed to be lost in the countless pieces of art behind glass casings.
The gun was tucked in the pocket of his hood, he had a hand tightly wrapped around the handle, with a finger already set on the trigger.
7:52.
He took mental note of the time after a glance at his watch. He had eight minutes to prepare himself for the next step. Surprisingly, he didn't think he would need to prepare himself any more than he already has. He was calm right now. Incredibly so for a teenager about to commit their first murder.
The act of taking human life was supposed to make him feel disgusted, repulsed, guilty, or something, but right now he was calmer than he felt in weeks. He had killed before, but the crimes he committed under the influence of the serum weren't something he considered 'his' actions. They were the 'Lizards' crimes, not 'Peter Parker's'.
7...6...5...4.
He mentally counted down the minutes until his target's arrival.
He felt his heart skip a beat when he noticed the car arrive. His grip around the handle of the gun tightened as he watched the murderer who killed his family get out of the front seat to open Wilson Fisk's door.
His heart suddenly started pounding in his chest, and sweat slid down his face. Thinking about doing the deed and doing it were two different things.
It's now or never, Peter...
Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself as to why he was here, why this was necessary. For Them...
Whiisssp...Crash!
Just as he was about to take a step forward, something wrapped itself around his waist, locking his arms to his sides, and he was pulled into the dark alleyway. he felt something hit the back of his head, and his vision went dark.
"Oof!"
The noise got the attention of Fisk's protection detail for a moment, but they quickly shrugged it off when they noticed a stray cat rush out.
....
-Unknown location-
When Peter came too, it was too darkened storm clouds. The gentle patter of rain traced delicate paths down his face.
What the hell happened?
Confusion filled his waking mind, but it didn't last long. He quickly checked his pockets as his mind cleared.
The gun, it's gone!? Wait...How long was I out?
He glanced at his watch and was about to let out a curse when a voice startled him.
8:29.
"You looking for this?"
Peter turned to look at the source, just now noticing that he was not alone on a rooftop.
The source of the voice was a well-built man dressed in a red armored suit with black outlines, with two devil-like horns pointing out from the crown of his helmet. He had two button-like tools attached to his left and right thigh, both having a red outline ending with white tips.
His face from the nose down was uncovered, but the man's visor from the nose up was too reflective, matching the rest of his crimson getup. Peter wondered if it was a special material of some sort, considering how something like that would be very difficult to see under.
The stranger held out the gun by the muzzle for Petter to see.
After a couple of seconds of observing him, Peter pushed himself up to his feet as something clicked in his head.
"You're the devil of Hell's Kitchen." Peter breathed, half in awe, half in annoyance. "Always thought you were some urban legend or something."
Peter recognized him from the described sightings of him in the newspaper articles he used to read when he was a fan of Spider-Woman. He was a superhero based in Hell's Kitchen.
I'm in Hell's Kitchen right now, fuck, but fuck it anyway, I don't have the time for this, the hell did he stop me for?
His feelings quickly went from one of awe and curiosity to boiling anger.
"Wait, what the hell are you doing I was just about to..." He stopped himself, this was a supposed 'Superhero' right in front of him, so he couldn't let his intentions slip.
"About to what kid?" The crimson-clad hero asked.
Peter looked away from him for a moment but turned to him with renewed passion behind his eyes.
There's still time, I can make it if I rush.
"Nothing...It's none of your damn business, just give my gun back" Peter demanded.
"No," The devil of Hell's Kitchen placed the gun behind him. He had 'seen' Peters's expression before, at one point in his life, when he was younger, he was sure he once wore that very expression.
"Look, kid, I know what you were trying to do, but trust me when I tell you, it's not worth it."
Peter let out a sarcastic huff.
"And how exactly would you know, huh? Listen to you? this has nothing to do with you, just give back my damn gun alright."
"And what get yourself killed trying to shoot one of the most well-protected men in this city?"
That caused Peter to flinch.
"Maybe I just needed the gun for protection, ever think of that?" Peter challenged.
"I could hear your heartbeat from a hundred meters away, kid. The way you were hunched over by the street, agitated like you were waiting for someone to arrive with your hands concealed in your pockets. The way your heartbeat picked up when Fisk's car arrived, hell I could even smell your aggression from far, and that's saying something, normally I'd have been a couple of matters closer to smell the pheromone people secret when they get agitated, stressed and angry but yours, smelled it from the roof. No." Daredevil stated, shaking his head lightly. "You and I both know you didn't hold onto this gun for protection, you were there to kill someone."
Peter glared at the devil of Hell's Kitchen in grim silence.
Smell anger? hear his heartbeat from meters away? Guess that puts the Super in super-hero, huh.
His frustration boiled over before he could stop himself.
"So what if I was? huh, that piece of shit isn't innocent. You don't know what he did, what his man did, the media is lying. Fisk and Poindexter are fucking scum. You don't understand what they did to me, the shit that they're responsible for! Look." Peter paused to breathe. "I'm only asking you this once, just give me my gun and walk away."
Peter was practically pleading with him, frustrated at the vigilante for stopping him while also understanding why he was being stopped. He understood alright but just didn't fucking care.
"I know," The man replied solemnly.
"What?"
"I know what he is, kid. I know what they do and I understand, really I do, but there is a way to do these things. The right way. We have laws in place, lines we should never cross; without them, we're no better than the bad guys. They'll get what's coming, but it has to be done the right way."
"You know...YOU KNOW...What would about me, about how I feel, Rules and Laws...hehe" Peter chuckled, his voice dropped to a low whisper. " Don't stand there pretending like you understand."
"Go home, kid, this isn't worth your life, I-"
The hero tried to reason with the teen but was startled by a shout from him.
"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT! Rules and Laws you said, I tried them, I'm not stupid, I went to the cops, tried collecting evidence, tried going through all the right channels, you know what they told me, 'Go home kid, it was just a shoot and run, this stuff happens all the time'. The fucking good guys didn't believe a word I said, looked at me like some broken, traumatized kid, the people they put away weren't even the right one's and they fucking knew that too, those asshole's didn't even care. They never do." Peter said, his voice cracking.
Peter was pissed. This damn HERO was giving him a lecture on morality of all things, about what was right and what was wrong, he was judging him.
What gives you the fucking right to judge me? Peter thought as his fingers curled into a fist.
"I could see it on their faces; they fucking knew it too. That's where your precious rules and laws get you, the wrong man paying for the wrong crime. You wanna know the worst part, the fucking prick, that god damn murderer is paying for my college fund like its some damn saintly act of kindness. What kind of twisted nut does that? Huh, tell me. I knew it when I saw their faces- they were dirty. Those cops were fucking dirty, So tell me..."
Peter, now enraged, spat the next sentence with disgust at the silent superhero, stepping closer to him with rage-filled eyes.
"HERO"
"The fuck am I supposed to do when the system meant to put the bad guys behind bars is doing everything it can to make sure they stay on the streets. Well, TELL MEE?!"
He raged at the red devil, who was silently listening to every word being said. He could understand where the teen was coming from but even so, what he was about to do was for the kid's sake.
That being said, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen remained silent, they both knew Peter was telling the truth, hell that was the very reason for his Devil alter ego, if the law was perfect he wouldn't need to do what he was doing right now.
If only...
"..."
"hmmph...hehehaha" Peter let out a small frustrated laugh, his face had an expression on his face that no one his age should have, one that told his story to those with the experience to understand.
The expression quickly vanished, a hard, resolving look taking its place. They took slow steps towards the hero until they were at arm's length from each other.
"You can't, can you, you-you already know about them and you haven't done a damn anything about it You plan to take him down the right way huh... You damn hypocrite... If you believed that you wouldn't need that shiny red suit of yours, and you know what?" Peter chuckled. "If I met you weeks ago, I would have believed you, but Spider-Woman showed me just how far you self-righteous heroes can go when something pushes the right buttons. What lines you people are willing to cross to get shit done with enough reason. So stop acting so damn righteous. You're just one bad day away from being me... Sometimes this world doesn't need people like you playing hero and meddling with our lives. So just give me the damn gun and walk away. You people disgust me."
The devil of Hell's Kitchen let out a sigh in preparation for what
was to come.
"Sorry, can't let you do that, kid. I understand your frustration, I really do, like you wouldn't believe, but regardless. I can't let you do what you're about to do, for both our sakes. Please, just go home, kid."
He once again tried reasoning with Peter.
I don't have much time left, I can make it if I just...
Peter let out a growl and made a grab for the gun, only to meet air and tumble onto the floor as the hero swiftly side-stepped his attempt.
"Arrrrggg!" Peter growled, frustration bled into his voice, getting on his feet and going for a second attempt.
Only to fall again.
And again.
And again.
"Just give me the fucking gun!" Peter yelled in frustration as he attempted to punch the hero.
His fist was caught, and using Peter's own momentum and weight against him, the red devil flipped the teen on his back with a controlled tug and twist of his palm.
"Ooofff!".
"Stay down, kid, just stop this and go home, please, I don't wanna hurt you. You may think that you want to do this, that you need to do this, but this won't help you. This will only make it worse. The only thing you'll succeed in doing is getting yourself killed."
Peter pushed himself up in a huff, gasping for air like a fish out of water, glaring at the devil who didn't even seem at all exhausted.
"Just shut up already, God are all heroes self-righteous pricks like you," Peter muttered under his breath.
Shooting to his feet, this time forgetting the gun altogether and going in for a punch, followed by another, and another, and another, all missing the devil who bobbed and weaved and dodged each of his attempts, slapping a few of them away as if he were swatting a fly.
"ARRRH!" Peter yelled in frustration, his attempt getting more desperate, his arms now flailing wildly, trying to just get a hit on the damn elusive vigilante.
Seconds turned into minutes with each failed attempt.
"Huff...huff...huff...huff" Peter was on his back again for the something-eth time. He lost count, not that he was even counting to begin with. He took another haggard breath and pushed himself up, sparing a glance at his watch, then back at the devil. 8:58...
The damned devil looked relatively calm like this was all a walk in the park to him, as if this was all just normal.
The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was surprised, contrary to what he thought, the kid was getting faster, instead of tiring himself out. The kid got faster, his action more controlled, and his punches a little stronger.
The kid was like him, a natural-born fighter; he kind of understood what Sticks said about some people just being born with a gift for violence.
He stood silent and stoic, watching the panting teen get on his feet again, if anything he admired the kid's tenacity.
Superheroes...That's so fucking unfair, at this rate I'll run out of time, damn it, why? why? why? why? why? why? WHY? WHY? Why was this happening to me? the fuck is this world so unfair? These damn Superheroes? What the fuck was wrong with this world? Spider-woman was willing to kill me when I was-NO she did kill me, she fucking broke me down into a mesh of flesh and broken bones, and this self-righteous hypocritic retard is here lecturing me on the right way when he put countless thugs in the hospital with broken bones. What the fuck is wrong with super-powered people fucking with me. I can't fucking win at all against them. If only I were stronger, faster...FUUCK.
Peter panted heavily as he pushed himself to his feet, bruises from getting thrown on his back over and over again riddled his body, but giving up was the last thing on his mind; he went on another punch, a right hook.
He missed, but that didn't deter Peter.
He simply tried again.
{Host has now witnessed the double standards and hypocrisy of heroes}
{Host now understands the frustration and unfairness of facing an unbeatable foe that is a righteous hero}
{Slot one conditions have been met}
{Incarnation of Garou: Unsealed(Partial seal lifted);State: Passive(awaiting evolution)}
The red devil's instincts suddenly went on full alert. He swiftly dodged to the left as a fist flew past, just inches from his face, faster than before, stronger too.
Time seemed to slow as his heightened senses picked up a rapid shift in Peter's movements. He quickly lifted his left hand in a guarded motion, meeting the back of Peter's leg. A kick with enough force to surprise the crime fighter, making him take a few steps back, while the gun slipped from his finger, sliding in front of the teen.
Peter promptly fell to his knees in front of the gun. He was done, tiered and aching, and he knew it. His body was riddled with pain, and exhaustion felt like an old friend. The other guy must have noticed because he made no move forward to take the gun, even after Peter pulled that last hit out by sheer dumb luck.
He used the momentum of the last punch to quickly switch to a high back kick, something that came naturally to him for some reason but left his legs and other parts of his body hurting like crazy because he just wasn't used to moving like that despite how natural it felt, the human body can only handle so much when pushed beyond what it was accustomed to.
"Feeling better now?" the devil asked. Rubbing his arm.
"Even if you pick that gun up, you won't make it. I took us a couple of blocks away while you were out. Go home, this will be the last time I'll ask you nicely, think about those that care about you, think about that for a minute, and walk... away… This isn't worth it, this isn't worth your life." The devil had a rough bruise on his left cheek, not noticeable under the lighting, but it was there.
"HeeheheHAAHA... sniff..hahaha..sniff..sob.." Peter out a melancholic sound that was half a laugh and half a cry. The rain hid his tears well. It's over and Peter knew it, even if he wanted to try again, that devil would be here to stop him.
Peter pushed himself up, gun in hand, and walked forward with a defeated sigh, sniffing lightly as he whipped his eyes, he walked past the Devil of Hell's kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction, and the Devil made no move to stop.
Peter stopped at the stairway leading down the side of the building.
"Maybe one day you'll lose something precious to these people. Maybe one day...You'll lose everything too. I hope you have the strength to follow your righteous way when you're turn comes. You god damn hypocrite." Peter all but spat as he shakily made his way down into the dark alley.
"I hope so too kid, God knows I'll need it." The devil muttered, watching as Peter made his way into the streets with a limp in his step, away from the direction of the Art Gallery. He was sure that Peter wouldn't do anything drastic.
...
Peter walked out of a store, following the path onto a bridge, lying all the way. He stopped by the pharmacy to get something for his wounds and pain.
He popped two pills, painkillers, in his mouth and continued his limping pace, a plastic of medication in hand. He wouldn't need it if he hadn't slipped on the staircase on his way down. His tumble was in no way gentle. Falling from the second floor and landing in a heap of metal trash hurt like bitch. His luck really was rotten.
He was just going through the motions right now. He could catch the bus but decided to just take the walk home, to gather his thoughts.
Thoughts that just left him frustrated and angry.
Thoughts that he couldn't grasp, thoughts he had to come to terms with.
The only thing that kept coming back to him was just one simple question
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
He just couldn't think of anything.
He was twenty minutes from his house if he took the alley on the left.
Slowly, he limped his way across the bridge, failing to notice the five thugs in front of him. All drunk and high, cracking jokes and smoking with a can in hand. Their car was parked on the sidewalk.
"I ain't joking man, I grabbed her by the hair and just put her down and was like aahh....ahhh yeah you like that," The one nearest to the railing of the bridge said.
"Hahaha...well, daamn, dude, you serious?" another laughed out, asking.
"Yeah man, the bitch was totally into it, hehehe got her dits right here "
He replied as he held up his phone, only to drop it when Peter absentmindedly bumped into him.
"Yo, the fuck man." The thug was quick to shove Peter into the road. His friends quickly gathered around him.
"Watch where you fucking going, aight." He stormed over to Peter, friends in tow.
Peter was already pissed, agitated, tiered, hurt, defeated, frustrated, humiliated and downright infuriated, his mind a mess, his emotions, an even bigger mess.
So his reaction wasn't hard to predict. The plastic in his hands with his medical supplies fell into the snow.
Can't even get a fucking break. Damn roteen luck.
The thug was about to grab Peter by the shirt, but Peter's fist met his face first. The thug flipped in the air and fell on his back without much resistance.
"What the hell?"
"Get him!"
"Fucking bitch!"
They rushed Peter.
He tried to defend himself, yet he could do little in his current state. There was only so much he could do, tiered and exhausted as he was. He got a few good hits, leaving one with a nosebleed and another with a busted lip before he was beaten into the ground.
Punches, stomps, and kicks came from everywhere.
"Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking mother fucking bitch."
"You mother fucker that's for my nose. How do you like it! Huh!"
"Yeah, that's what you get!"
They continued to rain insults and attacks on him, and after a few minutes, they moved away. Peter was left bleeding and hardly recognizable, his face all messed up with blood everywhere, and his whole body was covered in pain. The first one broke the group up, he was their leader.
It's hurting AGain. Flashes once again bombarded his mind, images of broken bones, twisted arm, torn flesh, a white-gloved hand almost taking his chin off.
"Aww, look the poor fuckers shaking, hahaha. Pick the fucker up, drag him over there," he ordered.
Two of the thugs, bleeding nose and busted lips, roughly grabbed each of his arms and dragged him to the railing of the bridge, harshly shoving him against it.
Peter's gun slipped out of his pocket and clattered onto the snow for the thugs to see.
"Ohoho, I see now, little bitch here had a wittle pea shooter in his pants and thought he THE MAN! Hahaha," The leader laughed, his groupies laughing with him as he bent down to pick the gun up.
"Is that what you thought? Huh?" he bent down slowly as he placed the gun on Peter's head and clicked off the safety.
Peter just stared down blankly, lost in his own mind. The pain numbed his senses, his ears ringing with an almost deafening pitch.
Why does this hurt so much? Why am I so weak? Why the hell is this happening to me?
"That yo ass could just do whatever the fuck you wanted to cause you had a gun," the leader chuckled.
"Naa man, shit don't work like that. Time for the Prowler to show you how the world really works." He was about to stand back up, but slipped on the wet pavement on the sidewalk.
Bang!
"wa-what the fuck man!?!" shouted Nosebleed.
"shit fuck" one of the men ducked into the corner.
"Holy fuck! the shits fucking loaded" the leader shouted.
"you didn't fucking check" busted lip called from his huddled position in the back.
"Na man, any of you got hit?" The leader replied.
"No"
"damn, all good here"
"you missed me bitch"
"Then we good..." The leader was about to sigh when he noticed the blood quickly filling the snow around Peter, all flowing from his stomach.
"Yo, man, what the fuck?... You actually shot him," Busted nose said in a panicked tone, only to receive a punch to the face.
"Fuuck.."
"Dude, we gotta go. Like right fucking now! Before the boys in blue show up."
"Shut the fuck up, all yo asses, it was an accident aight." Their leader stated in a warning tone, moving the gun over each of them.
They all gulped and nodded.
"Aight man, we get it, les just get the fuck outta here."
IT HURTS. Why does it always come to this?
Peter felt a sharp pain in his stomach and saw thick blood on his hand when he tried to feel it, his vision went white.
No… Stop it, IT HURTS, am I gonna die here, again, IT HURTS SO MUCH, just what the hell is this world so unfair, it's like the world's out to get me. This fucking weakling shot me, they made me bleed, fuuck this scum, fuck all of this to HELL.
As he slowly bled out, he didn't notice the shift in his thoughts from panic into an uncontrollable rage, nor how his lips gradually twisted into a bloodied smirk, his fist balling up, nor the excitement that overtook whatever he was feeling before.
Something clicked in his consciousness.
"Now help me toss the bod-"
{Slot 1: Incarnation of Garou; State: Active}
Why does this feel so good right now?
The pain went away. Gone as the world came back into focus.
Why did he find his current self so disgustingly weak? And why did he find all this funny?
A smile crept onto his features.
Was this it? Was this all he could amount to? To die to a bunch of street thugs?
Ain't that a comedy, or was it a tragedy? That's not funny..Then why is all this so damn funny.
"hehehahahhahaahHAHAHA" Peter interrupted with a low chuckle that blew into a twisted laugh, his face was twisted into a psychotic predatory grin.
Why the hell can't I stop laughing?' he felt himself utter the next few words before he could stop himself.
Why? He had no idea. How? he didn't care.
"Can't believe I lost to a bunch of pussies, you fucking losers"
Peter's eyes had an odd glint as he stared at the piece of shit who shot him.
"What the fu-"
*Crack…Bang!*
Their leader didn't even have the time to finish, when Peter's fist once again met his face, only this time it took out a couple of teeth, broke his nose, shattered his jaw, and launched him into the lamppost on the opposite side of the round, a crack was heard as the post bent over from the new dent in it.
The next to go were nosebleeds and busted lips. He simultaneously backhanded one off the bridge and grabbed the other by the face, lifting him up before slamming him into the hood of the car, leaving another seizable dent.
Peter looked at the remaining two, one of them now visibly pissing his pants. Both their eyes were wide with fear.
Seconds, it took seconds to utterly destroy them.
{Slot 1: Incarnation of Garou; State: Passive}
Peter came back to his senses after mercilessly beating the last thug within an inch of his life. His hands were bleeding, but the blood was no longer his own.
He took panting breaths and held his hands over his bullet wound, adding pressure to stop the bleeding.
He looked at the sorry state of the thug beneath him but held no sympathy for him.
One less piece of shit to walk the streets. His thoughts echoed.
He slowly limped over to pick up the gun, putting it into the plastic when he picked that up, too.
Can't go to the hospital, don't know how many irregularities are left in my blood from the serum...Almost home...
Peter limped down the street, slowly, leaning against anything he could for support.
Wait, the serum, maybe I could use that, yes, that'll work if I can, I can just go... go home.
Peter's panting got weaker, and he slowly walked across the quiet streets.
Peter tripped over his own foot.
*crash*
He crashed into his porch, shakily reaching for the opening of the door, he didn't lock it tonight, he didn't see the reason to.
He fell into the door as it swung open, getting blood all over the floor.
It took him a lot of effort to make it up the stairs and into his room, only for him to fall again.
Come on Pete... just a little more.. almost there... just a little more... almost there Pete.
He dragged himself with every ounce of strength he had left, his blood pooling on the floor. He made it to the desk and reached for the drawer.
That's it... almost there... Yes... The syringe... Drawer... got it.
He grabbed the serum and pushed himself against the desk, his legs sprawled out lazily in front of him. he moved the serum up to his wrist.
"..."
"Hahaha, fuck" Peter let out a tired, almost pitiful laugh, accepting his fight with little effort.
His hands were shaking no matter how hard he tried to force himself he couldn't bring himself to do the deed. The serum slipped from his hands and rolled away. He could shoot himself up with serum.
He was left there in a pool of his own blood, his head down, eyes blank, his thoughts empty
Just waiting to die.
The sound of steady footsteps caused him to look up.
His eyes widened as they came to a stop in front of him.
"Uncle Ben..." He whispered, whizzing in pain.
In front of him was his uncle, dressed in the same get-up he always wore, looking down on him.
*Cough*
Blood spilled out of his lips, Peter whipped it away without breaking eye contact.
"What? Huh…the hell are you looking... at huh?" Peter could stand those eyes staring at him. Not like that.
Please...stop it...
But his uncle's look hurt Peter more than the pain he was feeling. Something in him broke at that moment.
"Don't give that look...you have no right to judge me... what did you expect me to do... I went to the cops... fuck ton of help they were..." Peter tiredly drawled in front of the spirit of his dead uncle.
He coughed, drawing in a haggard breath.
More blood spilled from his lips.
"Damn it STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT... The fuck did you expect me to do huh... if you're so disappointed in me then why didn't you stop me huh!...that's right you can't... you know why cause your fucking died... And they-their responsible for it..." His voice getting louder, firmer, stronger the more he talked, something slowly taking root in the dying teen.
"So you know what... FUCK YOU AND YOUR DAMN LOOK... You're dead... and Aunt May... Aunty Ma..sniff... yeah.. that's right Fuck you...huff...you can't stop me even if you were alive.. not anymore... so just stand there and watch me...huff..Watch me drag this asshole into the light... How far would I go if...huff... if I couldn't fail huh... Just stand there in whatever heaven you are in and watch me fly... This time next year I'll the... the strongest thing around...hehah..cough..ahaha...you can judge me when we meet again...haahhaha...I doubt it'd be anytime soon...I have this feeling... Death itself seems to on my side for some fucked up reason...You see .. so... just... huff.. watch ... me... cough... cough... amma take them all... out ... in ... one.....shot...."
Peter's last words left his body with a deep exhale of his last breath. I wonder if I'll come this...Maybe... This time...
{Host has the will and spirit to pursue strength immeasurable}
{Will of Saitama: Unsealed(Partial Seal lifted)State: Active(Awaiting evolution)
The spirit of his uncle bent down and distorted into an image of a woman in a purple and yellow hooded cloak.
An elegant purple shoulder pad on each shoulder, bright glowing yellow eyes focused on Peter's form, with long dark silky black hair, pale features, with plump natural purple lips, she had an ethereal beauty not suited for a mortal woman.
"Usually, people try their best to stay away from me. They struggle, fight, bargain, doing everything in their power to at least avoid the slightest possibility of me," she said in a melodious voice.
"But you just couldn't help yourself away, could you?" She slowly reached up and held his cheek in the palm of her hand.
"I don't blame you, what I have is to die for," she joked.
As she did so, black particles formed around Peter. His blood slowly evaporated into black particles until there was nothing left.
His wounds healed up at an extreme rate as the bullet in his stomach was forced out.
"How strange, your soul is still mine, yet it is eternally bound to your body. You're quite a flirt, aren't you, waltzing carelessly into my domain as if it were your own... Hehehehe." The woman giggled as she continued to stare at Peter as if he were the interesting thing in the world. "Who would have thought?"
"Only to return to your body, taking a minuscule piece of me with you, leaving a piece of your mortality with me, such a thief you are." Slowly, she held his other cheek with her other arm.
She moved closer, kneeling next to the teen, taking his head, then gently placing it on her lap.
"I don't mind, though, this has been some of the most interesting moments in my existence. Entertain me some more, won't you, my little thief." She moved her closed lips just inches from his.
"It seems we are fated to each other. I will be the last to remain after all life ends, and you will be that last soul waiting to greet me at the end of this universe. Your nature and mine complement each other in ways I never thought possible."
Death understood now, his nature and hers. Behind her, the entity that once kept her at bay hugged her tightly, its hands now only two wrapping around her waist. Its eyes closed with its head leaning on her back. Almost as if to welcome a part of it, it missed dearly.
Death paid no mind to it, relishing in the comfort of its hug.
They were both the same thing, two parts of the same whole.
"While others live to perish, you perish to live, quite ironic." She gave him a soft peck on the lips.
{Slot 3 Conditions Met}
{Ajin: Awakened(Awaiting evolution)
State: Passive}
"Show me how far you can fly, Peter. After all, we have an eternity together heheehahahaha." She giggled once more as both entities faded into black mist.
{Integration 55%}
{Commencing Evolution}
...
{All conditions met- Evolution Complete}
{Host Detail
Name: Peter Benjamin Parker
Species: Tri-brid; Human Mutate(Homo Supreme), Demi-Human, Abstract Entity;
Verse: Marvel;
Universe: Unspecified(Admin Accord Restriction);
Variant: Unspecified(Admin Accord Restriction);
Integration_55%
Fragment Slot Compatibility 5;
Slot 6-? sealed
Linked Fragments
Slot One
Fragment: Quarth
The incarnation of Garou
State: Passive
Ability Granted to host: Homo-Supreme
Passive State
-Host has an innate supernatural talent able to almost instantly learn hand-to-hand and martial arts fighting styles he witnessed before. He can instinctively utilize Garou's fighting prowess, which is limited to his physical capabilities
-His instincts are refined the more he exerts himself through combat experience, and his physical body will continue to evolve the more damage he takes in a fight, with his Upper limit being unknown.
Active State
-Garou's personality traits will slowly influence and merge with the host and may overight the host and take over in moments of extreme physical stress or when he feels intense fear against an unbeatable foe
Slot Two:
Fragment Variant: Quarth
Will of Saitama
State: Passive
Abilities granted to Host: Homo-Supreme
Passive State
-Host is now compelled to complete Saitama's Training regimen for complete activation for a specified number of years
-The stronger the host gets, the more he loses touch with his humanity
-There is no upper limit to the host's increase in physical strength, speed, stamina, and so on
-Perfect Strength adjustment allows the host to adjust his growing strength to one of his opponents
-Dampened emotions
Active State
-Condition- Completion of Saitama's Training regimen
-Host gains a supernatural boost in strength but has little control over it, and activates under intense physical stress
condition met: have slots filled by variants from the same world
Bonus Slot active
Side effect gained: The Cruelty of Mercy
Due to the nature of Garou, Sataima, and the host, the host Peter Parker is now incapable of causing too much harm to any individual he deems innocent and is unable to kill human opponents though in this way he can brutally beat them to the point of death ensuring their survival, however, anything he doesn't consider human he can kill.
Slot 3
Fragment Variant: Darth23423*
Ajin
State: Passive (Self-Aware)
Ability Granted to host:
Passive state
-Ajin is in a form of hibernation but is still aware of the host's actions
-Activates upon host death and grants the host immortality through death
-Grants the host usage of its bandages, which are stronger and more durable than most materials on earth, with no limit to how long they can stretch
-Given the nature of the entity, it is invisible to mos,t as are its bandages howeve,r should Peter choose, they can become visible
-To see the entity, one must have experienced death in the past
Active State
-The entity manifests in the real world as a bipedal female covered in shadow matter with various arms wrapped in bandages and an array of bandages that act according to its will
-The entity may seek to protect the host in its own way because it acts out the host's subconscious desire.
Slot 4
Fragment: Darth23423*
Kagune-Altered(Dormant)
State: Dormant
Activation condition - User must consume human blood that's not their own
Ability Granted to host:
-Host is still a human but possesses a Kagune Rinkaku at the base of his spine, and once activated, will actively seek to consume blood instead of human flesh
Slot 5 compatibility reached
Multi-Fandom Power Package Up-link Generated
Link Forged
Slot Five:
Fragment Variant: MisfortunateBloke2334
Host: Kamijou Toma
Fable: Ongoing
Fandom: Anime/Manga
World: A Certain Verse
Universe: Unspecified
State: Passive
Ability Granted to host: Imagine Breaker(Altered State)
Passive State
-Grants the host the ability to cancel out any phenomenon considered supernatural by the average human, though it is restricted to his arms and anything they come in physical contact with, but this effect varies depending on the state and nature of the object itself.
-Has a field of thirty centimeters around the host that has this effect but only works with abilities below a certain threshold
-This ability is powered by the unconscious desire of all of humanity to return to a time when everything is normal
Active State
-Create's a zone around him that cancels out any supernatural phenomenon, turning everything back into what it would be if the world was normal
- The Radius of the zone varies in size, depending on the host's desire, however, this active state can only last as long as the host has the mental fortitude to handle the subconscious desire of all of humanity, which will influence the host's very being.
Fable Fusion Protocol- Phase 2 Complete
Evolution complete
Physical State: Stable
Mental State: Stable
Emotional State: Stable
}
-End of Chapter-