Look Into My Eyes (It’s Where My Demons Hide)
“I am Peter.”
“No,” Tony glared at him. “You’re really not.”
They stared at each other, Tony’s fists still in Peter’s shirt, until Peter’s grin started to grow. And grow.
And grow.
By the time it stopped, it was a swirl of black goo and sharp teeth, twisted and grotesque across Peter’s face.
“You’re right,” the thing said, in a voice that sounded like Peter’s vocal cords had been hacked up by a chainsaw. “I’m really not.” It’s eyes blinked, and the black spread, covering the rest of Peter’s face. “He is in here though. And oh, has he missed you.”
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