This Trying Worketh Patience - Chapter 21 - Charlotte
Charlotte stepped carefully over the bodies of raiders as she made her way down the narrow alley until she stood before the Pickman Gallery. Three stories tall, with a bright red door that might have once seemed cheery, but now warned instead of the danger that lurked within. The darkening sky overhead added to the uneasy feeling that settled deep in her gut since arriving, but she pushed it aside.
“Just reconnaissance, that’s all,” she muttered to herself, taking a moment to readjust the straps of her armor and count her ammo. Kellogg’s revolver sat full and heavy in her hand, reloaded from the box she had bought before leaving Goodneighbor. Charlotte reached out and turned the doorknob, carefully opening the door to see what—
She immediately stumbled back, turning to vomit onto the cobblestones.
In less than 10 days, Joe Abercrombie releases his highly anticipated final book in the Age Of Madness trilogy, and I for one am so excited that I made a whole youtube video about it.
Summary: “Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.”
“You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn’t, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety. “
Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.”
Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.”
-
Peter knew being Spider-Man put a target on him, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the safety of the citizens of Queens. He just never considered how dangerous it could be to be Peter Parker.
AN: whumptober day 5&6: prompts - rescue & no more. TW for bombs, guns, violence, proceed with caution.
Part 3 of 3
“-eter, come on Peter, Kid, wake up already.”
Peter groaned and tried to roll over but found that he was unable to move, that was annoying, he wasn't comfortable at all - in fact, the position he was in was kinda hurting him and he was pretty sure he was lying on his arm and it was going dead beneath his weight.
“Underoos?” Mr. Stark said his nickname in a singsong voice, and why was Mr. Stark waking him up? Had he fallen asleep in the Workshop again? That would explain why he was so uncomfortable.
“G’way,” Peter mumbled, trying once more to roll over and finding himself unsuccessful yet again.
“He lives!” Mr. Stark said with false cheer, but Peter could hear an underlying tension in his voice, had he actually been concerned that Peter wasn't alive? How long had he been trying to wake him up for?
“Mis’er Star’?” Peter asked before frowning and running his tongue along his teeth, there was a strange metallic taste in his mouth, almost like… “Mis’er Star’ why’s blood in m’ mouth?”
“Peter? Kiddo, don't you remember what happened?” Mr. Stark asked him.
Peter frowned, why was Mr. Stark waking him up and trying to get him to remember things? It was unfair, he was so tired and he’d been having such a good sleep. With an irritated sigh, Peter forced his eyes open, only to be forced to rapidly blink and dust and grit made their way into them and caused a stinging sensation.
“Pete,” Mr. Stark prompted.
“I- uh,” Peter frowned and tried to focus through the throbbing in his head, “there w’s a bomb.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Stark said gently, more gently than Peter had ever heard which instantly made him frown, what was going on? Was he dying? Is that why Mr. Stark was treating him like glass about to break?
Peter opened his mouth to ask that question only to be cut off by a yawn, he was so tired, but still so ridiculously uncomfortable.
“Now, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, grabbing his attention once more, “I can see you, can you make your way over here?”
“No,” Peter mumbled without elaborating.
“No? Why not?”
“M’ legs are tr’pped,” Peter said, “‘nd m’ arms are stuck ‘n hurt.”
“Your arms are stuck because you were cuffed, remember?” Mr. Stark prompted, and Peter vaguely did, he thought he could remember trying to pull away from a bar but a sharp pain and the dripping of blood down his arms had stopped him, “but I don't know about your legs, can you see what’s got them stuck?”
“Uh,” Peter instantly looked upwards.
“Your legs, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said.
“Can’t you see?” Peter slurred.
“Sorry, Bud, I kinda need your help on this one,” Mr. Stark said.
Peter sighed, why was Mr. Stark so determined to stop him from sleeping? It was unfair, he was so tired. So, after a few moments of grumbling loudly - mainly for Mr. Stark’s sake, so he would know Peter wasn't impressed about being kept awake - he finally looked at his legs.
“Oh,” he mumbled, nausea swirling in his stomach as he tried to force his brain to comprehend what he was looking at, “there- there’s a- a thing.”
“A thing?” Mr. Stark prompted.
“Oh,” Peter gasped, “it hurts!”
“Peter?”
Peter let out a strangled scream and hot tears instantly started to roll down his cheeks, carving their way through the grime that was coating them, his legs were in agony, it felt as though they were being ripped and torn apart by the metal beam that was covering his lower limbs, and if that wasn't enough, it was topped off by a concrete slab that had come to rest on top of the beam.
Some part of Peter registered that he had come close to that beam landing on his head, and he wouldn't have been in any situation to complain about pain then, because he would have been killed instantly.
“Kiddo, breathe, you’re doing great,” Mr. Stark said soothingly, “just breathe through it, you can do this.”
“Are-” Peter broke off to gasp for breath, it was surprising how much pain could wind a person, he was struggling, “are you- ah- hurt?”
“Nothing major,” Mr. Stark said, “don’t waste your energy worrying about me, Kiddo.”
But wasn't that exactly what Mr. Stark was doing?
“I- I tried,” Peter remembered, fighting the pain as best he could so that he could tell Mr. Stark that he’d done his best.
“I know you did,” Mr. Stark said, but Peter could tell that the man was just agreeing to get him to be quiet, to stop him from wasting his energy, but this was worth wasting energy for, he needed to say this.
“No,” Peter argued, “no, you don't.”
“Alright, calm down, I’m listening, alright?” Mr. Stark said, “just try not to move too much.”
“Ok,” Peter said, having to think hard to force his mouth to form the words properly, “I- I tried… to move you.”
“Oh, Pete,” Mr. Stark muttered, “I know you did, and I wish you hadn't, you took the brunt of that blast and I should- I should have been the one to do that.”
Peter laughed, a metallic taste on his tongue, “your ol’ man bones couldn’ handle tha’,” he said, his words beginning to slur again as the adrenaline of seeing the beam of his legs faded and the exhaustion returned.
“I’m gonna let that slide as long as you wake up, alright Peter?” Mr. Stark asked, but Peter couldn't be bothered to answer, he was just so tired, “Parker, come on now!”
Mr. Stark’s voice had raised suddenly that Peter jolted in shock, “Mis’er Star’ come on,” he said with an undeniable whine in his voice.
“Kid, I know you’re tired, I know you want to sleep, and I know you’ve done absolutely everything you can to protect me but right now I need to protect you, alright? I need to make sure that I can get you back home to May,” Mr. Stark said, his voice low and serious, “so do me just one more favour, alright? Stay awake, just stay awake until help gets to us.”
Peter paused and forced his eyes open once more, when had they even closed, “I’ll do m’ best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
“Hey, Mis’er Star’?” Peter slurred, “you sure h’lp’s comin’?”
“Yeah, there was already police outside,” Mr. Stark said, “and besides, it’s not easy to miss something like this, they’re probably digging us out right now.”
“How long?”
“Ah, I don’t know,” the older man admitted, “they’ll have to do it carefully, they won’t want to risk this stuff shifting and potentially collapsing further.”
“Tha’ c’n happen?” Peter was alarmed, he was already in so much pain, and fighting so hard to stay awake for Mr. Stark’s sake, he couldn't bear to think about the possibility that the pain could increase, maybe another beam would fall on him. Maybe that one would kill him.
“Don’t worry, Underoos, they’ll be doing everything they can to prevent that.”
Peter swallowed heavily, “I don’ wanna die,” he admitted, feeling safe to do so in the oppressing darkness where the threat of his mortality was lingering in the cracks between the concrete slabs and dripping from the broken pipes.
“You’re not going to die,” Mr. Stark said sternly, Peter wished he could believe him.
The pain was just too much to bear and he wasn't sure that he could see a way out the other side, he could feel the agony tempting him to give in, to give up.
“Well th’n, tell help t’ hurry,” Peter slurred, blinking heavily.
The closer he came to falling asleep the further away the pain seemed to drift and he couldn't help but wonder why Mr. Stark would want him to hold on?
“PETER!”
“Huh?”
“Kid, I’ve been trying to get your attention for minutes,” Mr. Stark said, his voice was no longer gently placating him and carefully trying to convince him to hold on, instead he was panicked.
Peter had caused that.
“There are two heat signatures under you,” a woman’s voice said, she was muffled by everything that was covering him and Mr. Stark.
“They’re comin’,” Peter mumbled, “Mis’er Star’, they’re comin’”
“That’s great,” Mr. Stark said, “see, Kid, you just have to hold on a little longer, just a little bit, alright? You’ve held on this long, so I know you can give me a little more time.”
“I dunno,” Peter mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Kid, they’re here, we’re being rescued, don't you dare leave me now, you’ll be on clean-up duty for a year with Dum-E.”
Peter wanted to laugh at the threat, he wanted to so badly, but he couldn't even muster up a smile. All he could do was lie there, uncomfortable and hurting more than he had ever hurt in his life, and listen.
“Peter?”
Yeah, I hear you, Mr. Stark, Peter thought, I’m sorry I couldn't do this for you, I’m so sorry, I’m just not strong enough…
“PETER!”
Just as Peter was ready to let himself fully embrace the darkness, a bright stream of light broke through, illuminating the dust particles in the air and revealing the fresh, outside world.
“It’s Tony Stark!” someone shouted, “get me extra hands now!”
“No one fucking touches me until that kid is in an ambulance,” Mr. Stark shouted, “I want him seen first.”
“Mr. Stark, let us help-”
“Help the kid!” Mr. Stark said, “please.”
There was a hushed conversation that Peter no longer had the energy to listen to, so he let his eyes fall shut once more… that was until the thing on his legs was shifted and the pain went from excruciating to unbearable. He screamed.
“Stop, please!” he shouted as he sobbed and writhed in pain, trying to fight the hands that were holding onto him, “no more! No more!”
“You’re going to be alright, Mr. Parker, we’re going to get you help,” one of them said.
But Peter didn't care about that anymore, he just wanted it all to go away, he wanted the pain to stop, he was done. He continued to sob and plead for them to stop touching him - he had been so close to the darkness, he had almost been pain free, why did they have to ‘help’?
“Alright, you’re out, see that? You’re out,” the person told him. Peter’s eyes opened just a slit, and quickly shut again as the brightness caused them to sting - or maybe that was the remnants of the grit in his eyes, although how his tears hadn't rinsed that all out was beyond him.
“Sleep?” Peter asked quietly.
“Not yet,” the person said gently, “almost time, alright?”
“Hmm,” Peter hummed as he ignored their words and let himself drift into a more pleasant world where he was spending time with May and Mr. Stark. Happy was there too, with his grumpy mutterings. Miss. Potts was holding the attention of the room, and at some point, Ned and MJ appeared.
It was nice.
It was pain free.
He didn't hear Mr. Stark screaming for him as he was also pulled from the rubble.
This Trying Worketh Patience - Chapter 17 - Charlotte
By the time Charlotte had made it to Bunker Hill, the dark sky overhead had opened up, sheets of rain falling as if to wash the Commonwealth clean. Water flowed down the streets of the ruins, trash and debris floating along like a parade of make-believe boats. After taking the time to scavenge a couple of buildings along the way, it was late in the afternoon when Charlotte finally arrived to her destination.
