The World I Knew [Discontinued]

Skydiving

Peter knew it was awful, that he was smiling at the very end, at this gruesome end, before he'd had a proper chance to change the world, to save it. He knew he should be bitter, thinking about how he'd failed the world; but he couldn't bring himself to think negatively at the moment.

He glanced down.

The ground was getting scarily close now, and an unexplainable fear took hold of him, making him squeeze his eyes shut, as if the imminent end would go away if he couldn't see it. He felt childish, being afraid of death; but he'd come so close to it so many times within the past week alone, that he thought that maybe he should just accept it, that he'd been avoiding something that couldn't be avoiding.

He'd cheated Death before.

Perhaps there was no way out of it this time.

Peter took in a deep breath, letting it shudder and hitch on its way in and out. The air whistling by him was thundering in his ears, and his tongue was dry and cold. The wind tried to tear at his clothes, but the suit was so skintight that it barely rippled, constricting him.

Suddenly, something cold, and hard, slammed into his middle, a shoulder shoving into his stomach and knocking the breath out of him, drawing a cry from his throat.

Peter's eyes tore open, and he only saw a glint of metal before they were crashing through wood and leaves. Whatever it was twisted around to take the brunt of the fall, protecting Peter from the impact, and a sudden change of direction from vertical to horizontal had Peter's head spinning, stomach rolling, and eyes watering.

A harsh impact with something especially hard separated Peter from whatever it was that caught him, sending him flying.

Branches and leaves tore at him, ripping his suit, and slashing at his face until he hit a full-blown tree, breaking through the thick trunk.

Peter fell, from twenty feet up, and when he finally hit the ground, he hit it hard, so hard he tumbled and rolled a good ten or twenty meters, until he finally stopped, head striking a rock so hard he blacked out--but not before something green and brown started falling towards him.

*****

Peter's body was made of pain when he woke up, laying face-down in scuffed dirt, and leaves.

He groaned, becoming aware of an aching, sharp throb in his temple that only got worse when he tried to crack his eyes open. Harsh light streamed down into his vision, making stars flash before his eyes, and make him immediately shut them with another moan of agony. The taste and smell of blood in his mouth was overwhelming, and his body practically pulsed with pain, throbbing and aching everywhere, no exceptions.

Trying to open his eyes again, Peter blinked dazedly until he could see again, then tried to move.

There was pressure on him, preventing him from getting up in his weakened state. Leaves tickled his face, irritating the scratches previously inflicted, and the branches they were connected to keeping him down.

He groaned again as his body began to tremble from the effort of trying to get up, and gave up, relaxing on the ground again.

Maybe he could just lay there, just for a moment, take a second to recover and try to remember what had just happened.

He remembered the missile exploding, flying out the window and falling, and then someone--thing?--catching him, shielding him from the impact, but eventually losing hold of him. Peter remembered flying through the air with momentum alone, breaking branches until finally he crashed through the trunk of a tree.

Speaking of the tree...

Peter opened his eyes again, unsure when he'd closed them, and did a mental once-over of his body, taking in his status.