Peter stumbled down the busy sidewalk. The world around him was buzzing with activity; it spun and blurred as he gripped his head tightly.
Strange, fantastical knowledge pulsed in his mind.
Incarnation of Garou…
The idea pulsed sharply and he found himself understanding everything about it.
Endless adaptive body…
Peter could feel every muscle shift. No matter how small or faint. He could feel it, control it with unnatural finesse. He could fight now, he knew how.
Will of Saitama…
Enhanced strength…
Peter knew he was strong, too. He could be stronger even at the cost of his own body. His senses were sharper, too. Now and then, when he focused really focused, the world would slow down just a bit.
Limit break…
Was he even human anymore?
Ajin…
Thief who stole his fate…
This, was this why Death itself paid him a personal visit?
Imagine breaker….
Collective will of humanity…
That's a little too much...
Original Sin…
Blood Catalyst…
So many new things to work with…
Everything was so clear and comprehensible; almost as if he had always known this information.
He did not know how or why he had an inkling that he would eventually, but at the moment all he knew was that he had powers and he had the innate knowledge of how to use them.
So this is it… A low chuckle escaped his lips. I'm immortal, huh…
Guess I'm super now…
The streets were bustling with activity and an abundance of sounds, an ambiance unique to the streets of the city that never sleeps filled his ears.
All of it faded into a mass of background noise to the dazed teen. His mind filtered out all the sounds to make room for more pressing matters.
Fuck, Aunt May… When he woke up he had MJ pinned under him. He was in a daze, his newly awakened instincts had kicked in and his body had moved on autopilot.
He didn't even know he had moved until after he had MJ pinned helplessly under him.
Then it all came back to him. His death, his words, his final thoughts before darkness consumed him.
MJ had become an afterthought.
He ran out too fast, his legs moving before he could stop himself. His destination was clear when he stopped on the street.
Aunt May.
He wanted to visit his aunt. He had to, he needed to, but he also felt that he didn't deserve to. That he no longer had the right to just walk into her room and talk to her like he did nothing wrong.
The memory of Uncle Ben's gaze was burned into his mind. He imagined himself visiting her with Uncle Ben's ghost standing over him, judging him for his actions. With his disappointed scowl and soft, fatherly gaze, he couldn't bring himself to stand near Aunt May with that thought.
He felt ashamed of himself.
He had died twice chasing revenge. Aunt May was still alive — and he had almost abandoned her.
She was alive, barely, yes, but alive.
If it hadn't been for his Ajin, he was damn sure he would have left Aunt May and Uncle Ben heartbroken and mournful, even miserable, over his death at the hands of Spiderwoman. That's not including his suicidal actions after his first death.
If it hadn't been for that Red Devil who stopped him, he would have died, even then, he did die to random thugs of all things.
Prowler, the fuck kinda name is that?
Peter let out a low breath. He pushed the thought of the thugs aside.
Now with the knowledge that he is immortal, he was sure he would be laid out on a dissection table somewhere. Experimented on and who knows what else by the government for his powers. People would give anything for immortality, after all, so he could try to imagine what they'd do to him to attain it.
He was confident that his imagination ran short of what humanity was capable of for the sake of life everlasting.
What the hell was I doing till now? He repeated his final thought from before.
Who would benefit from the little things he was doing? Would he? No. His self—destructive revenge mission ultimately resulted in his death in the end. Would Aunt May? No. She would have been left alone and in a coma with no one to take care of her.
After mulling over his thoughts, it dawned on him. He concluded that he fucked up, fucked up good.
He couldn't blame his Ajin for his actions because whatever thoughts it brought out during its dormant state were just amplified versions of thoughts that were already there, to begin with, hence everything he did in the past weeks was all just him to some extent.
If he hadn't had his abilities that he was now intimately aware of he would have left Aunt May alone, she would have woken up alone to face a world without him or Uncle Ben.
Alone, she would be alone without a single person left in the world to take care of her.
That thought drove Peter to pause in his steps.
"Goddamn it, Peter, You're a piece of shit, you're a screw-up and you know it... " Peter whispered to himself. His hands were up, palming his face as he grunted in frustration at the utter lack of care and disregard for the life of the only person in the world who loved him, who took care of him.
His only living family member and he would have left her alone because he wanted to kill a killer.
Can't believe I did that, what the hell was I thinking, really, really stupid, that was really fucking stupid, Pete. God i suck. How could I be so reckless? He internally berated himself.
He was starting to feel stupid now.
I can't go on like this. This can't happen again, no, this won't happen again... He promised himself. From now on everything will be different; I've got powers now so too, yeah everything will be different. I have to be different…
He won't recklessly throw himself into some suicidal act of revenge, no, he'll plan, he'll gather resources, he'll prepare and do everything as efficiently as possible.
But through all that he would always put Aunt May first, he had a duty of care, and he would see it through, he didn't have the power to protect them before but now he did, now he had the power to protect everyone he cared about.
And God has mercy and the poor piece of shit who tried to take them from him again, cause he sure as hell won't.
"Hey buddy, you alright there?" a gruff voice broke him from his thoughts.
"Huh..."
Peter blinked.
"What?"
He turned to the source of the voice, only now noticing that in his moment of frustration, he didn't notice that he took a seat on the sidewalk, leaning against a fire hydrant.
"I asked if you were alright, you look a little lost there," the man said, he was roughly dressed, had torn shoes and a worn-out trench coat, had an unshaven beard, unkempt brown hair, and looked like he hadn't had a good bath in weeks, Peter could smell him. He was a homeless bum, from the looks of it.
The trolley he was resting his elbows on told him that much.
But his eyes were kind and had a hint of concern for him, for a boy he never met before.
It was oddly pleasant for Peter, left him feeling hopeful and happy to know that there were people who cared simply because they could, despite having nothing themselves.
"Ah... yeah, yeah, I'm alright, just needed a minute, that's all," Peter dusted himself and got to his feet as he answered.
"Okay, whatever you say, man, if looking for you're somewhere to crash, there's shelter down at 4th Avenue, by the subway, they're handing out free meals. Breakfast and dinner only though," the man suggested, having thought that Peter was a runaway or something along that line, coming to his own conclusion after getting a good look at Peter.
Having experienced war himself, Johnny saw in Peter's gaze a reflection of death, an awareness far beyond that of a typical child. He was no stranger to taking lives and had his fair share of close calls before, so he knew a kindred spirit when he saw one.
"Thanks, I guess, but I'm good," Peter replied with a refreshed smile.
"Alright then, whatever man, just take care of yourself, alright. Here's one for the road, name's John, by the way. Friends call me Johnny, I sleep just around the corner, stop by if you ever need anything," The man told Peter, he handed Peter a bottle of orange juice and after he said his piece he simply pushed his trolley down the road and resumed his stroll as if nothing happened.
Jonny left a dumbfounded Peter in his wake.
Peter looked at the orange juice in silent contemplation.
It's funny how much a small, random act of kindness could affect a person on a fundamentally profound level.
Peter chuckled as he glanced at the orange juice in his hands. He took a sip, relishing the sweet taste as he stood up.
He then glanced across the road and spotted a flower shop. He needed some fresh ones for Aunt May.
Something nuzzled against his legs. He looked down and spotted a skinny, sickly looking black kitten.
"Huh," He lowered himself and picked up the kitten. It hopped on his palm affectionately. " Aren't you an adorable little guy..."
Chapter End