Re: Medical.
Tonight, well, bit. And not necessarily for that reason. The fighting was brutal. You’d expect that with that many non-potioned-up HP werewolves. But it wasn't the furry side that drained Ben. Pete and him, they'd tried. They really did. But too many people were out for blood and then there was the mine-field of cursed teeth to avoid. Where one wrong move… well...
..like giving a snarling wolf a bear hug a foot too low. He really should've gone for the full nelson or the headlock. Not that he had been scrolling through his attack options at the time. Heat of battle. Claws and teeth heading towards Pete. Priority #1: grab and stop wolf before teeth met skin. They already had to go through the whole Beard Fiasco once, no need to see what it'd be like if the fuzz went full body.
As soon as his arms had circled around the wolf, his spider-sense blaring in his brain reminded him oh so nicely, way too late that he'd actually done a grabbing a tiger by the tail oopsie. Which he really should’ve known better with the likes of the Lizard and Morbius and all those other biters around, but avoiding those jaws was more of a ‘that’s going to hurt in the morning’ and less of a horrible life decisions. Not like werewolves. Like the one who, without one prey to snack on, snapped its head around to sink its fangs into Ben’s shoulder instead before he could chuck the wolf away faster than a month old Tupperware of leftovers.
One of the benefits of all the mayhem, no matter how depressing it was, was that it didn’t provide a lot of time to actually think. There were wounds. They needed webbing up. And then back into the fray. Wash, rinse, repeat. The adrenaline and action always pushed the pain away and thoughts away. Sometimes too well. Afterwards was the time to think about all of the ramifications. And yeah, ok, he was going against doctor's orders, but he never did listen to those and he was needed more outside, especially now that he could be a meat shield as need be. And there's no way he'd leave Pete.
Even if the blood was soaking through the web bandages a lot quicker than normal. Both his and Pete’s. The stubbornness finally wore away with the rising worry (and exhaustion, but hey, no admitting that part). Mutual worrying at that. Who was actually taking who to the infirmary was debatable. Ok, maybe only debatable in each of the Spider-Men’s minds, but still, debatable. Maybe again, with the mutual effort there. Either way, Ben ended up in the medical area with Peter.
And now came the worst part. The adrenaline wearing off and the quiet. Plenty of time to think and feel all the scraps and bruises and that really annoying throbbing in his shoulder and running up and down his arm. Any other battle, he'd just go back to his room and pass out on his bed to sleep for the next two days. Let his body do what it needed to do in the healing process. But, tonight… Bets were on the super-healing not helping with the cursed part considering that the webbing bandages looked even worse in the harsh light of the medical rooms. Plus that incoming woozy. He’d felt it enough times, that tell tale sign that unconsciousness was coming knocking now that there weren’t foes, maneuvering, and fighting to keep him going.
He managed to hold on for a few minutes though. Enough time to be ushered where they needed him, try and wave off too much worry while also make sure no one got hurt over the double whammy of now cursed, radioactive (although wasn’t EVERYTHING here radioactive?) blood, and settle himself down on a table-bed-thing. But once he was off his feet, all bets were off and he let the blackness wash over and take him under.