ximilialog | spiders, in, SPAAAAAACE

( continued from here! )

( that's fascinating. Peter is honestly distracted by the idea of intentionally ripping a hole in space time for the sake of convenience, and how it's even possible to design one in a way that wouldn't result in a.) explosions or b.) the contents being ripped to molecular shreds during the process. also, super weird that Quill specifies mammals. as in, humans? or actual animals? why were earth interpretations of animals traveling through wormholes in the first place?

turns out the only thing that could possibly shake Peter from being curious about theoretical quantum physics is someone suggesting he has superpowers. as that's sort of a closely guarded secret for him back home. the sort of secret that got people killed, the sort of secret someone had recently died for knowing. it's a sensitive subject, to say the least. the fact someone knows he has spider superpowers within seconds of meeting him is actually more alarming at the moment than the concept of some other universe version of him.

Peter likely would find an excuse to bail and immediately leave in a paranoid panic if he'd had the chance. it just turns out, he doesn't. spider senses are a real pain sometimes, especially when they make him react before he has time to think about what he's doing. like the fact snapping the orange easily out of the air before it collides directly with his forehead definitely does point to the superpowers he's trying to pretend not to have. and once he's figured out what is happening, it's already happened.

he drops the hand with the orange the second he realizes, but it's already too late at that point. and honestly, Peter doesn't look mad so much as a little terrified. ) How did you know? Did he tell you? ( Peter guards his super powers so zealously he can hardly imagine a version of himself that wouldn't have to. ) It's a secret. You have to keep it a secret. I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

Edited 2021-09-05 14:35 (UTC)

[ He specified mammals because plenty of other animals and non-carbon-based aliens have no issues traveling across wormholes. If Quill had his ship here, he would be able to show Peter more accurate information about black holes and other alien technology. Unfortunately, all he has is his memory and a bunch of gadgets that he won't mind showing the younger man when the time comes.

Quill hasn't really known the Peter Parker in his world for more than a day, and they were too busy fighting for the sake of the galaxy to talk about secret identities or how they handled their superpowers. He's unaware it was so important for him to keep his powers a secret. The blond gives himself a few seconds to be smug after Peter catches the orange, the smirk tugging at his lips a give away of how he's pretty much thinking 'I've gotcha'. It doesn't last, once Peter starts looking horrified at the realization that his fast reflexes gave him away, Quill lifts a hand in reassurance. ]

Ey there, easy now... [ The smug look softens and he gives Peter a reassuring smile. ] The Peter Parker from my universe...we fought together against a monster who wanted to destroy the galaxy. It was an extreme case. Your secret's safe with me, promise, I won't tell anyone.

[ It is the ' I don't want anyone else to get hurt' bit that has the Guardian frowning for a moment. Ah, now he gets it. Looking around, Quill makes sure no one's near to see or heard them before he speaks again. ]

I'm sorry that things didn't go well for you, I'm not sure if it was the same for the other Parker. We didn't get the chance to talk all that much before I woke up in this station.

( honestly, it is a lot to wrap his head around. maybe he could pretend it was just a name — surely there were hundreds of Peter Parkers out there. maybe a little too much of a coincidence, that multiple people he'd never met had familiarity with his name. still, it falls apart fast with spider references and clear knowledge of superpowers. not much plausible deniability left anymore.

Peter doesn't enjoy keeping secrets from people. from people he cares about, for sure, but strangers too. he's not a great liar, and his life would be so much easier if he could just tell people what he was and how it'd happened. he just ... can't. his father had died to protect the research that made Peter the way he was. Harry was proof positive that if that knowledge fell into the wrong hands, the consequences could be devastating. and knowing about his powers had only ended up with people dying for the pleasure. it's hard not to go into an immediate panic, having them exposed so unexpectedly. )

A monster that wanted to destroy the galaxy. ( Peter doesn't sound doubtful, exactly, more so stunned he doesn't know how to properly wrap his mind around it. back home, he'd never had to face extraterrestrial threats. he surely hadn't had anyone fighting alongside him, either.

Peter scrubs a weary hand over his shellshocked face, eyes focusing on the older man like an anchor point. it's hard not to spiral a little in this sort of revelation, though considering the circumstances he's in and the reality of potential here — someone like him that knows who he is and understands the responsibility of the work they do — it's appealing, even if it is alarming to imagine another version of him. )

Okay. Okay. ( a little calmer now. ) It's just... I have to keep it a secret. I have to. ( Peter is a little reassured at the promise that Quill will keep it, though, he can't help himself asking one more question. ) Are you the only one from your world? That knows?

[ Peter could pretend but the chances of Quill believing him are slim to none. They are very different, the Peter Parker he knew and this one, but Quill doesn't plan on making anyone's life harder than it has to be. He keeps his voice casual and friendly, even though talking about Thanos makes him tense up. ]

He succeeded, too, for five years. Thanos wiped out half the life in the universe, and it took that long to figure out a way to make them come back and defeat it. I was dead back then, so was the other you.

[ Aren't you happy you're living a whole different life, Peter? Even if it might not be perfect, it's probably not as bad as the Universe that experienced the Snap. ]

I know it's a lot, sorry. But you have my word, I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to. There are others from my world here, I talked to a few of them, and since all of us were at Stark's funeral, they might remember your face. Tony Stark, he's...here, alive again. He's another superhero, and he's trustworthy. Right nw he's also out of commission in the infirmary, so it's not as if he can't tell anybody.

( if it's bizarre to hear he exists in different universes, it is definitely more so to be told he's momentarily dead in them, too. ) Oh, ( is the only intellectual thing Peter manages to say on the subject. how does he feel about that idea? well, he doesn't want to be dead, that's for sure. ironing out his exact feelings outside of that is too tall an ask. he might have to ask more questions when he's not shellshocked.

it is indeed a lot. enough to start stress eating again, as if a hot dog could possibly be a salve to his present problems. it isn't, not really, though it is comforting in a homesick sort of way. )

Tony Stark, ( Peter repeats, and there's no recognition in Peter's expression nor in the way he says the name. there's no Tony Stark for him back home, so the name is just like a listing in the phonebook. ) Is he okay? ( infirmary makes Peter think not so much, it's just... easier to focus on someone else than it is himself, 100% of the time. )

Back home, it's just me. And a bunch of supervillains, I guess. I wish I remembered any of that, but... I don't. I really don't. ( the monster that killed half the universe wasn't worth remembering, but, people he could trust with his superpowers? that Peter kinda envies. just a little. )

[ It's also not a joy to be on the other end, to know people when you're a stranger to them. It happened to Quill twice in the same week, and it's pretty tragic. At least Peter didn't try to knee him in the stomach. The question about Tony's health, however, has Quill looking like Peter did just that, and he can't but mutter a guilty; ]

No, he's not. But he's alive. [ Which is much better than how he was the last time Quill was on Earth. He's going to reach out and grab those fries and munch on one because, much like Peter, he's going to stress eat in an attempt to calm himself down. He still looks utterly miserable. ] It's all right, we might be from different timelines, or universes...who knows at this point.

( two boys stress eating and avoiding the implications of being existentially known and unknown all at once. at least the space fries are pretty good. so is the space hot dog. it eases the uncomfortable ache of trying to wrap their heads around something so vast and unknowable and maddening. )

Let me guess, that's not how it is back where you're from. ( it makes Peter's heart thunder uncomfortably. dead, dead, dead. yeah, maybe it is for the best he's hashing it on his own. slightly less people dead, though it wouldn't be fair to say that number is zero, either. ) My head hurts thinking about all this, ( Peter confesses, taking another sullen bite from his hot dog. )

[ Sometimes there's nothing else you can do while the brain processes everything that is going on. Rather than answering a question Peter already figured out, Quill shakes his head. Tony Stark and a lot of other good and innocent people were killed, and this time there's no bringing them back. ]

I think I had enough of it for a day, too. Let's talk of something else. Something that makes him feel less raw and guilty. Ever been in space before?

( sometimes you gotta just turn off the heavy thoughts and focus on something a little easier to wrap your head around. inane conversation and bad jokes fit the bill perfectly, so unsurprisingly, Peter will go with that. )

Yeah. For sure. ( Peter munches through the last bite of his hot dog as he is momentarily contemplative. ) Right now. Did you mean before that? Because in that case no.

( space travel was very restricted and expensive on Earth in Peter's time, and frankly since there's no New York in outer space (to his knowledge), he can't say he was particularly excited to go anyway. scientifically intrigued sure, though desperate to hop aboard a research vessel for the sake of seeing space? no not really. ) That said, I thought the food would be... I dunno. Greener? Weirder? Less like you got it off a street vendor? ( he's not complaining, but also kinda weird, right? )

[ Given how this is their first conversation and Quill already overwhelmed Peter with the fact he knew of him before, something lighter to talk about is very much needed. If they can manage it, that's it. ]

Yeah, before all this. There's a big, big galaxy out there with plenty of fun places to see and people to meet. It can get really weird at times, this station seems mostly tailored to humanoids, humans especially...it's not like this out there. Have I mentioned one of my teammates is a talking tree? The other is a raccoon that builds bombs for fun.

Nah. The US shut down a bunch of space programs. We have to piggyback off other countries, most of it's like... shuttles and rovers, now. Only rich pricks are planning to go to space anymore.

( Fuck Jeff Bezos, from all the way up here in space!!!! what was he talking about again? maybe nothing, because Peter just talked about having a talking tree and a demolition expert raccoon on his team. )

A raccoon? How does that work? I mean they're smart, but not build a bomb smart. And what sort of stuff does a tree like to talk about, if you're gonna bring it up.

( Peter can feel the conversation past the heavy stuff, which he's grateful for. he could sit here and eat and talk about the oddities of Peter's space adventures for hours, and maybe at some point during the nonsense the vice in his chest will get a little lighter.

hopefully. )

That's so sad. There's a lot to learn out there: advances tech advanced medicine, questionable fashion choices...rich pricks always ruin that.

[ Quill scrunches up his nose at the news. Tony Stark is probably one of the few exceptions to the rich prick rule, however, but even he and Quill clashed at the beginning. ]

He's not a normal raccoon. He was experimented on, which is fucked up, but he can walk upright, he can talk, has a really bad tolerance for alcohol, and is far stronger than he looks. Groot doesn't talk all that much, but boy, he swears a lot...

[ This is a better subject of conversation and the next hour, Quill talks about his team, how Drax and Mantis wouldn't understand sarcasm if it hit them with a hammer, how they first bonded in jail and saved the galaxy with a dance-off...he's only vague when he mentions Gamora, and doesn't really bring up Ego or Thanos. He asks Peter how things are in his world, as they eat everything on sight. ]

( continued from HERE! )

( wow, how dare you, mr. bloody and cranky. Peter is at least okay with cybernetics, it's just that this is a far shake from what he's used to. he's at a 2010ish tech level, not scifi spaceship level. he thinks having more obvious buttons would be a benefit here, just in a user friendly sort of way. unless this robot is programmed remotely? in which case, holding it probably isn't helping at all.

so Peter cautiously puts it down, as close to where he picked it up as possible. the alarm keeps going about three more seconds as Peter heads to the injured guy instead. then some diagnostic internally decides it is close enough to the assigned programming that it can just start it up again. the assigned programing being vacuuming, by the sounds of it. )

Why would you put a face on a roomba??? ( Peter whispers desperately, and not entirely to his company, before he focuses on the guy instead. ) I'm not sure he's bound to be much help, but every sci-fi show I've ever seen tells me there's gotta be a med bay somewhere. Here, I can help you up.

( apparently to spite Peter for assuming its inadequate programing, the little robot has changed its face display to an arrow pointing further down the hall. it doesn't stop to alert them of the change, though, it has a job to do. this hall really needs cleaning! )

[ once the robot is set back down and given ample space, revealing itself to be intended mostly for cleaning duties, kovacs probably just becomes a bit more annoyed with it now than when it was beating obnoxiously, mostly over the fact that it'd been such a waste of energy to deal with considering his other priorities.

but even with that out of the way, there's still the problem of ... whoever this guy happens to be, because the truth is that kovacs will always prefer to just deal with an issue himself instead of being catered, at least by another person. ]

I can stand just fin— ah, fuck. [ well, as he tries to do just that, lifting himself off his ass to try putting his strength on his feet to rise again, he feels the added pressure from the movement of his abdomen, blood soaking up his shirt a little more than before.

he's not even looking at the robot's changed display, too busy pouting at his own predicament. ] ... Yeah, alright.

( look, dude. he gets it. lone wolf, run the streets solo, all that. Spider-Man isn't known for duo queuing. and the few times he's tried, people are generally dead after. makes it a lot harder to buddy up for tasks, when he's used to just running into the thick of it with only himself to worry about.

still, helping people isn't quite the same, right? sometimes everyone needs a helping hand. and there's probably a heartfelt message, here, that trying to stubbornly trying to persist completely alone just hurts you more in the end, as the guy tries and fails to stand and probably just hurts himself worse. Peter is not open to critique on trying to function independently right now, though he is open to dragging this guy to the medbay because oh wow that is a lot of blood. )

Okay. I've got you. ( Peter crouches to sling the guy's arm over his shoulder, and his arm around Kovac's back. he could just pick the guy up but that'd be pretty sus, wouldn't it. so, reasonable amounts of support to get him standing and then he'll take as much weight as he needs to once the guy is standing. ) On 3? 1, 2, 3 — ( it doesn't matter how little Kovacs can help himself in standing, Peter hauls him up easily anyway. don't worry about it, maybe the Kovacs is right and he doesn't need that much help! what a relief! ) What happened to you? Is that a gunshot wound?

( Peter doesn't entirely know where they're going, but he decides to keep moving forward and hope for some kind of sign as to where they need to get. )

[ if this were hours ago — or however long it's been between the fight at the arena and showing up — then peter could likely have to be using all his strength to get kovacs up, considering the larger men would have lacked all capabilities of moving at all, nearly paralyzed to unconsciousness. luckily enough, his limbs are somewhat in working order, grunting as the aid of putting his arm around peter's back allows him a boost for picking himself up on his feet.

however much of his own strength he uses, he honestly can't tell, not while he's feeling like shit. ]

Stab wound. [ he peers down to the most significant one at his belly, jabbed deep by the blade, whereas the other wounds on his arms and legs remain shallow slashes, easy enough to heal. ] Laced with Reaper. Damn near paralyzed me but I guess it wore off.

[ lucky for him. ]

Guess I could still bleed out. That'd be fun.

No no, that would not be fun. ( Peter says it out loud, like denying the idea is enough to stop it from happening. he mildly wonders if the guy is close enough to death that webbing his wound shut would be worth the questions about why he has webshooters on both wrists. what are the chances Peter could think of a good reason for that one? absolutely 0. so better avoid it if he can.

the small cleaning friend rolls past them, arrow still projecting down the hall, as it turns on the scrubbers and immediately tackles the blood on the floor without a care in the world. Peter spares it only one last mildly astounded glance and then dedicates his attention to dragging his company to wherever can do something about the definitely still bleeding stab wound. )

I'd ask why you got stabbed by something laced with a paralytic but that's probably the sort of question people won't answer, so I guess I won't. ( Peter also would not want to explain why he had a stab wound, so, he gets it. Kovacs gets off easy on this one. ) I will say you seem weirdly chipper about it, though.

Yeah, relax, kid. [ it's almost spoken with boredom, like it's actually ridiculous for anyone to get so uptight about the situation, despite the very fact that it's plenty obvious for anyone to see this as plenty serious. of course, in kovacs' eyes, it's more normal than a panic scenario.

he gives the little robot only vague attention, but he does at least manage to muster enough energy to move his own feet, rather than let himself be dragged. he's not that useless despite his own slouching, furthered by the fact that he's walking at a slant with his arm over his new companion's shoulder. ]

Just pissed off some people. Sliced the guy's head off, so he wanted to get even. [ most people probably wouldn't answer, but kovacs isn't most people. and yes, the same guy whose head he sliced is the very same who sought revenge. it makes sense in his world. ] Same shit, different day.

Relax? Dude, you left a couple liters on the floor back there. ( Peter is pretty flippant about his own injuries on the regular. it does blur his understanding of what a normal human body should be able to take, at least a little. still, a stab wound seems pretty bad. so he is NOT gonna relax, thank you. Peter has never been great at the whole relax thing even under ideal circumstances, anyway.

the way the guy is lagging over a little more with every step doesn't imply he's in the greatest of places, either. it's fine, Peter is more than strong enough to pick up whatever slack is left. hopefully not noticeably, because Peter is a terrible actor, and wouldn't know where to start pretending this is more taxing than it is.

Peter isn't expecting an answer, and isn't sure how he feels about the one he gets. ) Oh, ( he says, sounding a little uncomfortable, though he's committed to hauling the guy somewhere to get looked at, potentially murderous. ) Wait, huh? How was he still kicking after that? And you know that last bit makes it sound like you get stabbed or at least maimed daily, right?

Your vacuum buddy'll clean it up. [ maybe cleaning the mess isn't the issue that's being presented here, but at least it's one that's getting resolved a lot better than the present one. he groans a bit, feeling in the ache around the wound. it's not enough to pass out again, but he definitely needs to get around closing it up.

still, he's trying to maintain his strength on account of believing he's been through much worse — and he has — distracted enough that he doesn't notice just how much he's not actually doing on his own. ]

Maybe not this bad, but like I said — tend to piss people off. [ or he just ends up in the wrong place, wrong time. sometimes, it's mostly both. ] I just fucked up his sleeve, but he managed to get himself into another. But his stack's dust now, so he won't be coming back this time. [ he's mostly mumbling now, trying to distract himself from the pain. ] Fucking deserved it after the torture session he shoved me through.

I think he would resent you saying we're buddies. ( Peter and that cranky roomba didn't get off to the greatest start. he is going to have to try and turn that relationship around. how do you make a roomba like you? sweeping up yourself??? or does that invalidate the robots function?? maybe he'll pour some stuff on the floor or sweep into a straight line for easy removal or something, he possibly will have to keep brainstorming this at a later date. )

You messed with his sleeve. ( Peter is pretty intense about his favorite hoodies, though he still can't imagine stabbing someone over a piece of clothing. and from there he completely loses the plot, what with stacks and dust and torture. this is a lot to follow. ) What's your name? Do you remember your name?

( it makes Peter think of a conversation he had a long time ago, after Eugene Thompson made him eat cement in front of half of Midtown Science. and it hurts, a hard and vicious pang, like it always does when he thinks about Gwen. good memories and bad, somehow they both hurt. still, he asks because this tower of steadily bleeding man is making less and less sense as they go and now he's concerned that he's maybe got a head injury to go with the stab wound. )

spiders, in, SPAAAAAACE

the peterpocalypse

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end here ??? possibly ???

It's a wrap :>

tall and hurt guy we better fix you up

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