http://foursleeves.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] foursleeves.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] trans_92009-11-19 04:32 pm

My friend Goo

There's a familiar sight in the sensoriums. New York stretches out underneath Peter's feet, starting with the Baxter Building. Perched on the roof with a beer and a ghettoblaster playing Strangers, he picks out his old house in Forest Hills with Aunt May and MJ's next door; his inner city apartment with Harry. Out in the Village he can make out ESU, where he met Gwen and the Bugle building where he met his first love and his greatest nemesis. Doc Conners' lab and Ryker's Island.

It was all gone. And despite what his 'saviours' had assured, he feared that those people were gone too.

Being here on this ship, it was too much. He'd exchanged one war for another. He hadn't seen his friends and family in so long, and he'd never had a chance to say goodbye.

S.H.I.E.L.D's helicarrier hums to itself as it hovers above the city. Peter screams and hurls the beer bottle. His augmented strength is enough to pitch it into the carrier's hull, where it shatters and in pieces tumbles into the streets below.

He screams again, his face in his hands, and a voice speaks up. One that he hasn't heard before. One that would send a chill down his spine if it weren't already occupied.

We have each other, Peter.

And the Kinks play on, "Strangers on this road we are on, we are not two; we are one."

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