Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He sits with his head in his hands, on his bed, in the tower. Tears stream down his face like a silent river, his body trembling all over. His room is dark. None of the lights are on, and the curtains are closed. He doesn't want to let any of the light in.

Hello, it's nice to meet you.

It's been two weeks since her death.

Two weeks… two weeks since he watched that man shoot her in the chest.

Two weeks since he'd held her as the life- the brilliant, shining, happy life- drained out of her.

Can you tell me where I am?

Two weeks since the voices started.

He knows it's his fault, and the voices tell him it's his fault. He knows he should feel guilty.

But he doesn't.

I don't know how I got here, but I think I'm starting to understand.

All he feels is pain. Grief.

Anger.

It's like a flood, filling him from head to toe. It pulls him under, drowning him. The voices tell him to let it continue, to let it grow, and he does.

I don't belong among the angels,

For some reason, he likes it.

The anger.

And baby that's just fine with me.

He doesn't talk to anyone anymore, he simply stares at them, and occasionally, he'll shake or nod his head. He hardly eats, hardly sleeps, and his eyes have gone from joy-filled baby brown orbs to dark, sunken, almost black. The bags under his eyes say more words than he does.

The things I did up there were high school,

Anyone can see from a mile away that he isn't the same Peter Parker. The anger and the pain radiate off of him like waves, and the look in his eyes- the empty, broken look- lets everyone know to stay away.

But now I'm goin' for my degree.

Nobody knows about the voices, though, and he likes it that way.

He knows if anyone finds out, they'll think he's psycho.

Hey, sorry but you just got in my way,

Maybe he is.

But he doesn't care.

I promise honey I can feel your pain,

All he cares about is the fact that she's gone, and that it isn't fair, because hasn't the world taken away enough of the people he loves?

Apparently not, and that makes him angry beyond belief.

And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit,

He tells himself that it's normal, it's okay to want to throw things and smash things and scream as loud as he can. He tells himself that he should be allowed to want to destroy everything in his sight.

He knows it's not, but he tells himself it's okay.

Does that make me insane?

He hides it. Hides the insanity. He hides it well. No one realizes how badly he wants to hurt them all.

He has no family left now, and despite Tony's reassurance that he has the team, it's not the same.

They try to help him.

I haven't been the same since I expired,

They try to make him feel loved. They try to tell him he isn't alone.

But nothing can help him. Nothing can stop him from feeling absolutely alone.

Nothing can stop the anger.

Doesn't mean that I plan to retire,

The voices say he should take his anger out on the world.

He decides maybe he should listen.

He knows he can't wear the original suit, otherwise everyone would know who he was, and he couldn't have that.

And now I have the power to bathe all of you in entertaining fire.

He decides one night to sneak into Tony's lab. He hacks into FRIDAY and makes sure she won't see what he's doing, and slowly, he creates a new suit, and a new name for himself.

Dada da, da da da da, da da, da da da,

Dada da, da da da da da, da da da da, da da da da da

He's not Spiderman anymore. Sure, he'll have to bring the guy out every once in a while. He can't have people realizing that the arachnid and his new persona are one and the same. But he'll never be the good guy again.

Dada, da, da da da da, da da, da da da,

Dada da, da da da da da, da da da da, da da da da da

He's walking down an alleyway when he meets his first victim.

At first, the roaring anger coursing through his blood doesn't react to the fact that the man was pulling a gun on the woman. But then his eyes register the fact that it's the same man that killed Aunt May, and the voices don't have to tell him what to do because he just does it.

Wait a minute, do I know you?

His fingers press the small button on his watch and quickly, the black and white suit, so unlike the spider suit that no one would know it was him, spreads over his body, tight and perfect and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Weren't you an old pal of mine?

He lunges at the man- he's burly and big and ugly and deserving of what's going to happen to him- and rips the gun from the man's grasp and shoves him against the wall.

Departed from us far too early,

The woman screams at the sight of him, but then asks,

"Spiderman?" with a hint of hope in her tone.

He turns to look at her, and he sees that she looks exactly like her and the pain comes back and it's controlling him and he wants to let it.

"I'm not Spiderman," he snarls at her, making his voice deep and terrifying, causing the girl to stumble back. "Your hero won't ever be able to stop me."

He bares his teeth at her, and a low growl escapes his throat, and she screams again and runs.

A part of him acknowledges that the man is choking, and he turns and tightens his grip on his throat.

But now we're meeting a second time.

"Who… are… y-you?" the man gasps, his face turning red from lack of air.

A maniacal grin works its way onto Peter's face, and since the mask only covers the top of his face, the man sees it and it terrifies him.

"Please," he begs, gasping for air. "Have mercy…"

We used to have such fun together,

Peter tilts his head to the side in faux contemplation.

"Like you had mercy on my aunt?" he demands. "Like you were going to have mercy on the girl?"

And maybe you have what I need?

The man pales and Peter smirks.

"You're done ruining people's lives," he growls.

But first I have one tiny question-

In one swift motion, he turns the gun on the man, and before another word can come out of his mouth, Peter pulls the trigger, and the bullet tears through the man's stomach like it's butter.

Tell me, do you demons bleed?

Peter's smile doesn't fade. As the man drops to the ground, dead, Peter takes a deep breath and looks at the crimson blood on his black gloves.

Hey, sorry but you just got in my way,

It feels… good.

Right.

I promise honey I can feel your pain,

What had he been doing before? Saving people? No. This was his purpose.

Find the people that destroyed lives, and end theirs.

He grins maniacally once more when he hears the police sirens, and he turns swiftly and runs, using his stickiness to climb up a building and hide.

He likes this feeling. The voices in his head are congratulating him, and he sighs in contentment.

And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit,

The pain in his heart and the anger in his veins has lessened. Not by much, but he can feel it.

When he returns to the tower, dressed in his normal clothes, he finds the others watching the news.

The lady he saved earlier is talking to a reporter, telling the world about the new masked monster of New York.

The maniacal grin hasn't left Peter's face, and luckily, the team hasn't heard him come in.

Does that make me insane?

He will keep this a secret. He has to keep this a secret.

He continues his new line of work, and soon, Spiderman is on the news less than his new alter ego.

I haven't been the same since I expired,

They're calling him "Pestilence," because he's like a plague: wherever the killers and muggers are, he's there, ready to tear them to pieces.  Sometimes, he kills them before they've even committed the crime, because if he knows they're criminals, it's his duty to get rid of them.

Doesn't mean that I plan to retire,

No one can stop Pestilence, and no one can find him. Not even the Avengers.

Perched on top of a building, wrapped tightly in the Pest Suit, as he's come to call it, Peter ponders his new life. His new job.

And now I have the power to bathe all of you in entertaining fire.

He enjoys watching the life drain out of the monsters he puts an end to. He loves looking into their wide, terrified eyes, and he loves telling them, "I can feel it too."

Dada da, da da da da, da da, da da da,

Dada da, da da da da da, da da da da, da da da da da

Dada, da, da da da da, da da, da da da,

Dada da, da da da da da, da da da da, da da da da da

Because he can feel it.

Hey, sorry but you just got in my way,

The pain.

He feels it every time. But he doesn't stop, because for some reason, he likes it.

I promise honey I can feel your pain,

He isn't the same anymore, that much is clear to all who know him. He dyes his hair black, he doesn't sleep hardly at all and he likes the dark bags under his eyes. He likes the look of madness within his now almost-black orbs.

And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit,

There is no going back.

Does that make me insane?

He is not Peter Benjamin Parker anymore, quirky teenager, nerd, and Star Wars fanatic. He is not Spiderman, hero and friendly neighborhood web slinger. He is not the innocent, sweet, loving teen he used to be.

I haven't been the same since I expired,

He is Pestilence, killer of killers and hater of all happy things.

Doesn't mean that I plan to retire,

He is the kid that loves the darkness, the teen who's pain and anger fueled him, the man whose hatred towards the world drove him crazy.

And now I have the power to bathe all of you in entertaining fire.

The madness in his eyes is impossible to miss. The maniacal grins he gives when he sees Pestilence on the news told the Avengers that he isn't right. The evil laugher and the way he grows too angry too quickly told them that he's changed, and that it isn't for the better.

Hey, sorry but you just got in my way,

No, he is not Peter Parker anymore.

I promise honey I can feel your pain,

Not Spiderman.

Not the loving, caring child that May Parker had raised.

And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit

He is mad. He is crazy. He is ruthless, and unstoppable.

Does that make me insane?

He is insane.

~fin.