miles mckinnon 🕸️ peter parker. (hugger) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-06-26 13:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * kit, c: miles mckinnon |
WHO: Miles McKinnon -> Peter Parker
WHEN: Tuesday, June 25, 2019; Evening
WHERE: Salazar Industries -> Queens
SUMMARY: Miles has another memory, finds out about some new abilities, and decides to use time and resources that belong to Salazar Industries to satiate his curiosity.
WARNINGS: None! Mentions of parental figure loss, but it’s a very brief mention.
Miles spun around on his stool, a pencil balancing precariously on the tip of his nose as he mulled over exactly where his calculations were flawed. There was a delay in the application's responsiveness and he knew it was going to bother him until he figured it out. He also knew it would probably be best for him to either clock out earlier than he usually did (the other employees on his team had already left nearly two hours before) or switch his focus to another project so that he could come back to this problem with a fresh perspective, but he knew he'd have the same problem with anything else he picked up. The problem, he knew, was that he hadn't been able to focus on anything at all since the dream revelation he'd had the weekend before. If it weren't for the fact that he was bound and determined to somehow impress Elias Salazar with both his work ethic and his skill, he probably would have gone with the first option. He stopped himself mid-spin with his hands outstretched on the cool, metal lab table, though one reached up almost immediately as the sudden stop caused the pencil to fall from his face. It should have been followed right after by a clatter on the floor but his reflexes were quicker than expected and he expertly caught the pencil in the palm of his hand. Miles shrugged and set the pencil to the side, pausing to grab his phone, check the time, and shoot Naomi a quick text. It was shortly after six--he’d be leaving in less than a half hour, anyway, and he knew the only outcome of texting his wife would be to be sufficiently distracted for the next twenty or so minutes. With a sigh, he set his phone back to the side and took to spinning on his stool again. He was falling. It was a new sensation for Peter, or at least new to the Peter who’d spent the past few weeks adjusting to this new life of having abilities he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. No one was here to teach him, to explain to him what they meant, and he was already down one parental figure as it was ever since Uncle Ben had-- well, it was just him and Aunt May now and the last thing he was going to do was give her yet another thing to worry about so soon after losing someone else she loved. But that was neither here nor there at the moment as Peter misjudged just how far he’d meant to jump and failed to find any surface with which to gain purchase. Up until now, he’d grown pretty confident in his ability to land any jump he put his mind to, and his ability to control the way his hands and feet clung to walls. That particular ability did nothing for him, though, when he was plummeting through thin air with not even a fire escape to grab onto. What he should have been considering was exactly how the police would explain to Aunt May how he’d been found dead in an alley dressed up like a patriotic DIY spider, but instead his mind was working on overdrive as though he only had seconds to figure out how he would fix this problem had he the means to rewind thirty seconds and do it all over again. A grappling hook? No, that was bulky. Not really something he could add to his disguise without making himself even more conspicuous than he already was. Maybe he could do something like a grappling hook that could catch the surface the way his fingers tended to do, but without the bulk. But, then, no. That wouldn’t work either. He’d need to cart around rope and that brought him back to the grappling hook dilemma. He might have given it more thought, but then he hit a dumpster in the alley below, the wind knocked out of him as he folded in on himself and rolled into the open half of the trash collection. He lay there for a lot longer than he’d ever wanted to lay in a pile of trash in Queens, reeling both from the fact that he wasn’t dead--superhuman durability, check--and the fact that he was starting to figure out the answer to his problem. He needed something like his ability to cling to any surface, but also something inconspicuous. Something like rope, but something that could be hidden and carried around without disadvantage. Something like...something like a spider web. Before he could get too excited, though, Peter was brought back to the real world by something hot and wet seeping through his sweatpants. “Oh god, oh no, eugh, eugh--” Peter gagged, and quickly pulled himself up and out of the dumpster, the only thing to show for his rookie mistake being a few quickly disappearing bruises and the distinct stench of putrid garbage. He was going to have to explain at least one of those things to Aunt May but, as he climbed back up the side of the building and headed back toward where he’d stowed his backpack, all he could think about was how he could possibly manage to shoot spider webs on top of everything else he was still learning to do. Miles’ knee caught on the leg of the table, abruptly stopping the momentum of his spin and sending him toppling off his stool. Reflexively, he grabbed for the table, his toes perched on the thin rest at the base of his seat. And then...he wasn’t falling anymore. He was…holding on with the tips of his fingers and toes, like he...like he was Peter Parker. “No way,” he breathed, taking in the sight of himself as he lifted one hand away from the table, watching it in awe, and then lifted the other hand, too, looking for any difference in the hands he’d come to work with. And then he really did fall, landing on his back on the tiled floor unharmed. Okay, okay, so apparently with great dreams came great powers, he thought to himself, glancing around to make sure he really was alone and that no one had seen him fall. Slowly, Miles sat up and held his hands in front of his face, sticking and unsticking them from each other, and immediately decided he wanted to test out just how much he’d actually acquired from his dreams. But then he thought of Naomi, and Verity, and Ian, who would all be the first to know if he made the same mistakes he’d made in the dream and that wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. So that settled it. Miles was going to have to make Peter’s web-shooters and, thanks to Peter, he knew how. Pulling himself to his feet, Miles glanced around the lab, doing a mental inventory of everything he had available to him in this lab. He was going to have to gather a few other things from some of the other labs, but… He could do it. He could make the web-shooters. And then, and then, he could test out his new potential wall-climbing abilities. Miles set to work, everything else that had been on his mind before then completely forgotten. |