http://foursleeves.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
foursleeves.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92009-04-23 02:29 am
foursleeves.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-04-23 02:29 am
Entry tags:
[open] I'll be your mirror.
Ever since he'd been resucitated on Stacy, Peter had felt restless. He'd webslung the breadth of her inner city, but it hadn't been enough. He'd swung across a sensorium programmed Manhatten, but it hadn't been enough. He felt itchy and goosepimpled. Something wanted him to move and busy himself like he used to, before he'd been taken by Battleworld. When he tried to stand still, his hands shook like a veteran's.
He's not even entirely sure how long he's been awake. Perhaps it had been days, but it felt like minutes. Had he even slept on the ship? Something nagged him whenever he thought of it, reassuring him that he'd had more than enough, that he was getting complacent. Maybe he should go for a run?
He's in the sensoriums again. With each visit he feels more dependant on the reassurance it provided. Since he'd first programmed MJ he'd tried to stay away, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He needed to see the sights he grew up in and meet with the people he'd grown up with. It is with great irony that he should pick this particular person.
"Stacy, programme subject: Octavius, Doctor Otto Gunther."
Something strikes him in the back of the head. He goes down, his shoulder cracking sickeningly against the simulated concrete.
Aw, hell. One thing he'd learned the hard way was that although his suit was enhancing each of his abilities, his spider-sense still had trouble adjusting to the sensoriums. The threat wasn't real and although Stacy was able to trick every other sense into believing otherwise, his spider-sense barely twitched at the sign of faux-danger.
Another of the crazed doctor's mechanical arms shoots forward, but Peter rolls and it buries itself into the pavement. He's fallen out of sensoriumed sky enough times now that he's getting used to trusting senses he wouldn't normally. Stacy had managed to recreate things he'd never thought of before, like that sterile pharmaceutical smell Octavius gave off, and the missile-like whistling of his tendrils as they curled through the air.
Pouncing to his feet, Peter tries to run up the second arm, but it flicks him into the air as it frees itself from the concrete.
The fight continues for hours, and neither tires. The air around Spider-Man is filled with steel claws and webbing. They climb into the artificial city heights, bouncing from building to building. Occasionally through them, too.
Eventually, Peter's luck falters and a well-aimed swipe from the Octapus catches him square on the jaw. The force of the blow is enough to knock him out cold, and his inert body hurtles downwards. A couple of hundred feet from the ground he regains conciousness.
"Bwuh? Bwuh?! Bwaaaaargh! Stacy, programme subject: Coney Island! NOW!"
The city phases out, reforming into the familiar beach resort. Peter plummets headfirst into the icy liberty water. Some minutes later, his unconcious body washes up on the beach.
He's not even entirely sure how long he's been awake. Perhaps it had been days, but it felt like minutes. Had he even slept on the ship? Something nagged him whenever he thought of it, reassuring him that he'd had more than enough, that he was getting complacent. Maybe he should go for a run?
He's in the sensoriums again. With each visit he feels more dependant on the reassurance it provided. Since he'd first programmed MJ he'd tried to stay away, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He needed to see the sights he grew up in and meet with the people he'd grown up with. It is with great irony that he should pick this particular person.
"Stacy, programme subject: Octavius, Doctor Otto Gunther."
Something strikes him in the back of the head. He goes down, his shoulder cracking sickeningly against the simulated concrete.
Aw, hell. One thing he'd learned the hard way was that although his suit was enhancing each of his abilities, his spider-sense still had trouble adjusting to the sensoriums. The threat wasn't real and although Stacy was able to trick every other sense into believing otherwise, his spider-sense barely twitched at the sign of faux-danger.
Another of the crazed doctor's mechanical arms shoots forward, but Peter rolls and it buries itself into the pavement. He's fallen out of sensoriumed sky enough times now that he's getting used to trusting senses he wouldn't normally. Stacy had managed to recreate things he'd never thought of before, like that sterile pharmaceutical smell Octavius gave off, and the missile-like whistling of his tendrils as they curled through the air.
Pouncing to his feet, Peter tries to run up the second arm, but it flicks him into the air as it frees itself from the concrete.
The fight continues for hours, and neither tires. The air around Spider-Man is filled with steel claws and webbing. They climb into the artificial city heights, bouncing from building to building. Occasionally through them, too.
Eventually, Peter's luck falters and a well-aimed swipe from the Octapus catches him square on the jaw. The force of the blow is enough to knock him out cold, and his inert body hurtles downwards. A couple of hundred feet from the ground he regains conciousness.
"Bwuh? Bwuh?! Bwaaaaargh! Stacy, programme subject: Coney Island! NOW!"
The city phases out, reforming into the familiar beach resort. Peter plummets headfirst into the icy liberty water. Some minutes later, his unconcious body washes up on the beach.