Picking Up The Pieces

9. Ready For A Change

I think I gasped when Peter pulled us higher and backflipped onto a building rooftop, him yelling in delight. When he let go of me, I punched him on the shoulder.

"Oww," Peter moaned as he rubbed the area.

"What. The. Shit. Parker," I glared at him. "I tell you about my fear, and you throw me out the window!" I don't think Peter's worried face was ready for my huge grin. "But that was the most amazing thing ever!" I laughed, and I gave him a massive hug. Peter laughed nervously.

"I didn't know what you're reaction was going to be," he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck when I let go. "And I'm a little scared you're gonna hit me again."

"Don't worry about it," I said, waving a hand down. "I think one punch was good enough. Why did you bring me out here anyways?"

"I thought you could use some air," Peter offered. "You've been crammed in my apartment for over a week now."

"A week, huh?" I sat down and looked at the moon, shining in its brilliance. Peter squatted next to me, and we looked out from our place on the roof. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I spouted suddenly. "You came out of nowhere, and you're letting me crash at your place. I've never thanked you, never offered anything in return for all of the trouble you're going through for me. All I've done is almost choke you to death."

Peter messed with his hands. "I don't know," he started, but then his voice suddenly changed. Deeper, darker. "It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life."

"What?" I said, confused. Peter stood up, grabbed me by the neck, and dangled me off of the side of the building. "P-P-Peter," I choked out. He smiled evilly.

"I should have let you fall," he snarled. "You've hurt so many people, and what have you done to fix your sins? Nothing." Peter tilted his head to the side. "At least I get the chance now."

Peter's hand released, and I plummeted. Window after window flew by, and I came dangerously close to the ground before I caught ahold of my senses. My metal fingers dug into the wall, but the force ripped the entire arm. I landed safely, my paralyzed arm now showing. I looked back at where Peter was to see him swinging towards me. I turned around and ran, cars honking at me as I hurdled over them. Quickly, I hid in an alleyway, holding my breath until I watched him swing past.

After waiting a few minutes, I scurried over to the building closest to me and began to bang on the door. When the door opened, I gasped. "Bucky?"

"What the hell do you want?" he growled. Buck twirled a knife between his fingers. "Well?"

"Bucky, it's me," I begged. I heard the sounds of a web shooter and began to panic. "It's Isabel! Isabel Stark! Atlantis!" I tried to think of any name that could trigger a memory of me.

"I don't know any Isabel," Bucky glared. "Now get the hell out of here or-"

His sentence never finished before I yelped. I shakily looked down to see a golden spear sticking out of my chest, the end covered in blood. I screamed as it was pulled back out, and I fell backwards, shaking in pools of my own blood before I eventually choked on it. The last thing I saw was a dark hand coming toward me, horns sticking from the person's head.

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"Ahh!" I screamed. I sat up in Peter's bed, hyperventilating, my metal hand scrabbling at where I'd been stabbed. "Get away, get away!" I heard a loud thump, and the lights turned on, Peter by the switch. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled. He looked at me with concern.