IronDad/SpiderSon One-shots

The Injured and The Savior (failure)

Third Person POV:
Trigger warning: Descriptions of blood/Death/Extreme angst
Word Count:764
Spooktober 2022 Day Nine: Goodbyes

Blood.

There was so much blood.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words sounded too rushed and panicked. The tone was filled with too much fear.

"No. It's okay. Don't apologize. It's fine. You're going to be fine. Help is on the way." That voice was also panicked. The fear was heavy, but much more controlled.

Blood spilled everywhere. It slipped in between fingers and seeped through shirts. It puddled onto the ground and stained everything it touched. Too much. Way too much.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't. I swear. I was just-" Pure terror. The voice was filled with absolute terror. They really hadn't meant to get hurt, they didn't. They had done everything they could to try and stop it. But, sometimes, things happen. Things out of your control. Things that were already pre written in the world's timeline. Things that, no matter how many times you tried to prevent and stop whatever from happening, still happened.

"It's okay. I promise you, it's okay. Just... don't focus on it, okay? Think about something else. Think about something that makes you happy." More panic. There was panic everywhere. Uncontrolled panic. Panic was never good in situations like this. Panic left untamed would spread like a wildfire and cause more damage than intended.

No amount of pressure was stopping the blood from spilling out. Too much. Too much. Too much. Red was everywhere. It was like an infectious disease trying to spread everywhere it possibly could. So. Much. Blood.

Silence fell for a few seconds. Too much silence. Life was slowly slipping from the injured and the savior was realizing that. The savior wouldn't be a savior today. Maybe some would call them a failure.

"Focus on me." The savior was going to do everything they could to keep the injured alive. Every possible thing. "You know, you do great things. You're a great person. What you do, for the city, for everyone in it. It's incredible. We need you to be here to do that. You need to stay alive to do that." Less panic. Distraction was good. Distraction was perfect. It took the minds off of what was going to happen. It was the perfect illusion for this problem. This predicament.

There was more silence. The injured weren't doing well. Not at all. The ecstatic persona the injured typically displayed was slipping and slipping. "Do you know where F.E.A.S.T. is?" Such an odd question. An odd question that was filled with no emotion. A flatline.

"Yeah, I do." Such an odd question.

"There is someone there by the name of May Parker." There was a pause. A long pause. "Can you... can you maybe tell her I said goodbye and... and that I love her. And that it isn't her fault." The tone was sad. More emotion, yes, but that's never a good sign. Not at all. "And can you tell her to deliver the message? She'll understand." Admitting defeat. That's what this tone showed. Giving up. Accepting.

"No. I won't. You can tell her yourself, okay? Actually, you won't have to tell her. Because you'll be okay." The panic was back. It wasn't as intense, no. But still, it was there and it was detrimental.

How did a person have so much blood? Especially someone so small? It was everywhere. Despite the fact the injured's life was slowly leaving them, the blood still spilled out. It was kind of terrifying.

"Please." Desperation. "I need you to promise." More desperation. If the savior could see the injured's face, they imagined there would be tears. "We both know I'm not making it out of this, so please."

Tears fell down the savior's face. This was not how they had imagined their walk coming home. This is not how they imagined their day ending. This was not what they had asked for.

Still, the savior couldn't say no. "Okay. I promise."

The injured relaxed. "Thank you." And, in a matter of seconds, life was gone. There was no pulse. There was no air leaving or entering their lungs. There was nothing.

The savior cried, finally dropping the blood covered shirt. Sirens could be heard in the distance, but it was too late.

There would be no saving tonight. There would be no life reborn. There was nothing.

New York City lost its mightiest hero that night.

New York City lost Spider-Man that night.

New York City lost a pure, good soul.

New York City lost a savior.

New York City lost Spider-Man.

Even the criminals would mourn this loss.

That's it for this chapter! Remember to drink some water, eat something, take medicine (if you have to), and rest today. You did a good job and I am proud of you :)
Till next time
- Storm