MHA : Spider-Man

"When we get to the office, we're gonna have words ." She growled, Peter scoffed.

She walked away, Peter wanted to as well.

"Quite the temper, huh?"

...

Peter grunted as he sat up, anger releasing its hold on him minutely as he watched Mirko go across the street.

How he felt right now made the anger from before seem so peaceful. Peter felt like he was burning from the inside out, pure emotion trying to claw its way out of his chest.

And still, nothing felt like the main reason! Mirko was simply something he could direct his anger at for now, but she wasn't the cause of how he felt!

He just felt so ang ry.

And for what? There had to be a main reason!

Mirko was not there to yell at him right now, and he beat Dr. Connors! There wasn't a threat or anyone in danger! He was alive! Matter of fact, he didn't even beat Dr. Connors! He helped him!

Peter won today!

God, why didn't it feel that way?!

"What was the last syringe, by the way?" He groaned, he could feel his hands shake slightly.

"Another quirk-produced substance we tend to use, basically speeds up cell regeneration exponentially for a bit."

Peter looked at her, only one of his eyes able to see her clearly. "When's it supposed to be kicking in?"

"Now, probably."

Right on cue, Peter felt a soft warmness sweep through him, hiding the raging heat of anger for just a little while. Silently, Peter felt his body knit itself back together immediately, slowly but surely closing all wounds and making nearly every bruise heal a bit.

"It only lasts a few seconds, so it just takes care of major stuff like all those fractures and cuts you had there, most of the bruises aren't gonna go away as fast, but you can probably handle those. And honestly? it's kind of a wonder that you actually made it up here in your condition." She said, picking up the tablet scanner and showing him an X-ray of him.

There were so many fractures. All he could see were cracks and jagged lines all over his bones, some looking worse than others.

"Oh, I feel like I should let you know some of those injuries will definitely scar. Sometimes cell regeneration isn't always perfect."

Peter took that in, sighing with a nod.

Of course they'd scar, they always did.

"All this stuff is… convenient."

"S.H.I.E.L.D does like using the best resources around." She said, casually.

Instantly, he froze. Peter looked at her, narrowing his tired eyes as if that'll tell him anything.

"… What did you just say?" He asked, the woman gave a small shrug.

"You really gonna blame Fury for sending us here? You text Tony Stark talking about some lizard guy who you were pretty sure is a mutate and expect Fury to do nothing? The guy likes to be in the know." With a small chuckle, she nodded her head to Dr. Connors getting loaded into a prison truck headed for Tartarus.

It probably wasn't.

"What are you… are you gonna help him?"

"Our whole point is to help people, it's what we do . We'll make sure Dr. Connors gets the best help to figure out his… current predicament. We'll keep his identity secret, pretty sure he'd rather people not think he's some lizard monster." She reassured, giving him another small smile that made Peter feel a bit better.

And yet, the anger remained.

Peter sighed, catching the faint sound of Mirko giving a report across the street as he went to drag his hands across his face.

As they came into view, he stopped.

Peter looked down at his gloves, the red and black material covered in blood that Peter felt was a mix of both his and Dr. Connors.

There was a buzzing beneath his skin, the ghost of a dozen sensations that lingered on his hands.

The woman looked him over, checking over the mostly healed bruises and the faded cuts before giving a pat on the uninjured shoulder and smiling.

"Looks like you're good to go! The soreness is probably gonna last a few days, but you won't be walking around with fractures or bleeding profusely. You'll be back to being Spider-Man in no time."

Back to being Spider-Man in no time.

Peter felt sick.

As he kept staring at the familiar sight of bloody gloves, something clicked in his mind.

He'll be back to being Spider-Man in no time…

With a small breath, Peter turned his hands over and looked at them, seeing the torn fabric that showed his knuckles bloodied and bruised.

The buzzing beneath the skin was still there, and Peter realized something. His eyes widened as he kept staring at his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

Just like he used to.

For a moment, he felt 14 again. swinging out of his window when he couldn't sleep and coming back battered and bruised with blood staining his knuckles.

He kept looking at his hands, letting the anger and frustration swirl around him as he focused on the buzzing beneath his skin, born out of punches he threw and hits he took.

It felt… indescribable.

It felt like when May hugged him or like when Ben ruffled his hair and told him he did a good job.

His hands shook.

It felt like some sort of relief to an old wound that hasn't healed yet.

It felt like coming home.

He remembered the rage and bitterness from a kid who stood at his uncle's funeral and punched criminals to drive away grief.

Peter focused on the anger he felt right now, and he couldn't find a difference.

God, he was still that kid who sewed together that dumb mask! He hadn't changed! He was still angry .

Peter felt sick.

He hadn't changed .

Peter should've realized it the second he first punched someone when he began his internship and felt better about himself even just slightly.

The main reason for his anger was so obvious .

He's been Spider-Man for 2 weeks.

Peter doesn't think he's ever been Spider-Man without being angry deep down.

God, he was Spider-Man again.

"Oi, Parker! C'mon!" Peter looked up to see Mirko angrily waiting for him so they could go.

It felt weird that she didn't even call him a nickname, but he guessed it was fair.

Quietly, Peter slowly put on the damaged and blood-covered suit before slipping on his mask. As the cloth covered his face, a wave of rage hit him so hard he felt sick.

It made him feel even worse that something in him clung to it, refusing to let go.

Taking another useless calming breath, the boy balled his hands into fists and hoped they'd stop shaking.

They didn't.

Still, he just kept walking for now.

He wasn't a stranger to pushing through things.

...

The journey back to the agency was a blur, honestly. One moment he was burning with anger in the back of an ambulance and the next he was in an office building doing that exact same thing.

Mirko hadn't talked the entire time, at least not that he remembered. Even if they haven't actually said a word outside of that short burst of yells and frustration from her, Peter could tell Mirko was perhaps even angrier than him.

It didn't make the fire in his chest burn any less, though.

He limped behind her, going through the building until she finally arrived at the room he'd been staying out. She stopped walking, with her shoulders tensing as if it was a herculean effort not to start screaming at him right there and then.

Peter gritted his teeth to prepare for whatever was gonna happen, hands still shaking and God, why wouldn't they just stop shaking -

"Go clean yourself up and change, leave your suit to wash later, and meet me in the training room in an hour and a half. Don't fucking make me come get you." She said, the anger and frustration in her voice were the same Peter guessed he'd find if he decided to talk.

Not bothering to wait for a response, she walked away, leaving him to quietly open the door and step into the room. He didn't realize he had partially crushed the doorknob until the door closed.

With a small click, the door closed behind him, leaving him in the silence of the empty room and in the anger getting ready to burst from him.

His mind wandered back to the thought from before.

He was Spider-Man again, really Spider-Man.

It wasn't the fake training exercises and sports events at UA or just designing different gadgets in his far too empty shitty apartment.

God, these past 2 weeks have been the first time Peter's been Spider-Man for a prolonged time in what felt like a year .

His mask fell to the ground, feeling way heavier than it should. His hands balled into shaking fists as he stood behind the closed door.

He's been swinging through buildings, helping old ladies cross the street and pulling people out of fires and punching people with so much built up anger he'd been ignoring and he was fucking Spider-Man again and-

And just like that, Peter burst .

Lashing out at the first thing near him, Peter grabbed the nearby nightstand by the bed before slamming it onto the ground, making it explode into countless small shards of wood and rage.

He kept looking at the sad pile of wood on the floor, his hands didn't stop shaking.

Peter thought he'd feel better, just like how deep down every punch he threw when wearing the mask felt a little like a reward.

Peter felt sorry for himself, honestly. He felt bitter and selfish and tired and angry and-

He didn't even feel better.

He felt like the kid he was a year ago because maybe he still was.

He felt like a child.

Silently, he turned away from the pile, stripping off his costume and putting it into a little suit-cleaning machine in the corner of the room before grabbing his phone and walking to the shower.

...

If you want to read ahead of the public release, or just want to support me.

You can join my p atreon :

[email protected]/Huvnn