บท 17: Chapter 17: Peter
Noah nodded, expressing his gratitude, and turned toward Wanda and Wong, signaling them to follow. Accompanied by the soldiers' watchful gazes, the group quickly approached the Quinjet.
The ramp of the jet descended slowly with a low rumbling sound, and the cabin door opened.
Just as Noah and his companions were about to board the Quinjet, a sharp voice cut through the air, freezing everyone in their tracks.
"Wait!"
A figure swung down on a web, clad in a tattered blue-and-red suit with a faint, cracked spider emblem on the chest. The colors were faded, and the lines of the suit were frayed and torn.
As the figure landed, guns were immediately trained on him. He hastily pulled off his mask, revealing a youthful face with brown hair, his expression pleading, trying to prove he was not infected.
It was none other than Spider-Man, New York City's friendly neighborhood hero.
"This is a Quinjet, isn't it? You're heading to the Helicarrier, right? Please, I'm begging you—take Aunt May and Mary Jane with you!"
Spider-Man's voice was filled with urgency and desperation. He no longer cared about keeping his identity a secret; his sole focus was saving Aunt May and Mary Jane from the death trap that New York City had become.
His suit bore the scars of countless battles—scratches, burns, and tears testifying to his recent struggles.
Noah's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as his gaze landed on a small wound on Spider-Man's shoulder. It didn't look like it had been caused by bullets or debris.
The soldiers gripping their weapons showed no signs of lowering them. Their cold, unyielding expressions were a stark contrast to Spider-Man's pleas.
"Step back immediately, or we will open fire!" one soldier barked, his tone laced with authority and threat.
They were unmoved by Spider-Man's appeal. Their orders were clear: escort Noah and his team onto the jet, no exceptions. The man in front of them was not one of their charges.
"Listen to me! The jet has plenty of empty seats. It's just two more people!"
Peter's voice grew more frantic, but the soldiers remained resolute, their fingers on the triggers. The sound of guns being cocked echoed through the tense air.
At that moment, Noah stepped forward, his expression calm as he asked with a slight smile, "And where are Aunt May and Mary Jane?"
His movement caused the soldiers to exchange hesitant glances before lowering their weapons slightly.
Hearing Noah's question, hope flickered in Spider-Man's eyes. "Yes! Thank you! They're at my apartment, not too far from here. Just give me fifteen—no, ten minutes! I'll bring them here!"
Without waiting for a response, Spider-Man turned and shot a web into the distance, swinging away at lightning speed.
Noah watched him vanish into the skyline, a trace of weariness in his eyes. "Let's go. Board the jet."
Wong frowned, unable to suppress his frustration. "What about Spider-Man and his family? We can't just abandon them like this!"
Wong, having worked with Peter on a few missions before, had exchanged contact information with him. They were acquaintances at the very least. Giving Peter hope only to destroy it felt unbearably cruel.
Noah remained silent for a moment before replying softly, "Spider-Man has likely already been infected. As for his family, they'd better pray he turns before reaching them."
He sighed deeply, his expression heavy. "I'd save them if I could. But Peter was bitten by the infected Colonel America, just as in the original scenario. He's already carrying the virus."
"Maybe he has a few minutes left. Or maybe he'll turn the next second. When he does, New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man will become a mindless monster, consumed by hunger and rage."
Noah paused, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "And no one will be coming to save his family—not now, not ever."
Wong fell silent, his expression grim.
As they boarded the Quinjet, the roar of the engines filled the air, and the aircraft vibrated gently. Noah and his companions found their seats, strapped in, and prepared for takeoff.
As the jet ascended, the city below became smaller and smaller, a wasteland of destruction and flames stretching as far as the eye could see.
Sitting in his seat, Noah closed his eyes, his thoughts heavy.
He couldn't gamble on Peter's reaction to the truth. Would he accept his fate calmly, or would he break down? If he lashed out or begged for help for his family, it could spell disaster for everyone on board.
A drowning man doesn't politely ask if the straw he grabs can bear his weight.
Noah let out a weary sigh. He was just another drowning man, after all.
"Peter… hang in there. Just make it home," he murmured, his voice filled with exhaustion.
Peter ignored the searing pain in his shoulder. His family's safety was the only thing on his mind. Their smiles, their well-being—that was what kept him moving.
Swinging through the gaps between skyscrapers, he shot web after web, propelling himself forward. Each pull of the web brought him closer to home, stoking the last ember of hope in his heart.
Almost there.
Finally reaching his apartment, Peter crashed through the window, shattering the glass as he tumbled into the room.
The sound startled Aunt May and Mary Jane, who turned toward the noise. Their fear turned to concern when they saw Peter.
"Oh my God, Peter! Are you okay? Look at that wound on your shoulder—what bit you?" Aunt May hurried toward him, her face etched with worry. Mary Jane followed closely, her eyes filled with fear and concern.
Peter forced a weak smile, touched by their care. Despite his tattered suit and bruised body, they embraced him tightly, offering comfort.
"I'm fine, Aunt May, Mary Jane. But we need to leave now," Peter said with determination.
Aunt May gently touched his injured shoulder, wincing at the sight. "Let me get some peroxide to clean this up!" she said, rushing to another room.
Mary Jane stayed by Peter's side, her face full of worry. "What happened, Peter? How did you get hurt?"
Peter sighed, his brow furrowed. "I don't know, MJ. I approached the Colonel, trying to figure out what was going on, but he attacked me."
"I had to fight my way out and lost them before heading back here. Honestly, I don't know much more than you do."
"Now, go get Aunt May and—urgh!"
A sudden wave of nausea hit him, his stomach churning violently. The sandwich he'd eaten earlier felt revolting as bile rose in his throat.
Sweat poured down his face as a searing heat overtook his body. His muscles convulsed painfully, and an overwhelming hunger surged through him.
He struggled futilely before letting out a blood-curdling scream.
"I'm so hungry!"
"Peter? What's wrong?"
Mary Jane, halfway to fetching Aunt May, turned around at the sound of his cry. The next instant, Peter lunged at her, sinking his teeth into her neck. Blood sprayed across the room.
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