Chapter Text
A war, forgotten long ago, with such lasting impacts ingrained in every mind but hardly thought about.
The heroes of this world lost long ago, remnants of the battle scattered across the planet. No other planet had come to their aid, instead hiding away lest they attract attention. Understandable of course but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
The heroes who lost were long dead, unable to bear witness to the aftermath of their failure. Not that anyone left truly blamed them. Blame was as common as hope years later. The only emotions left were those built into people to help them survive.
Fertility became rare as well, almost as if they evolved to die as a species instead of raising children in the desolate world of danger. Any who bore children were almost pitied, but ridiculed, nonetheless. Children did not deserve to be brought up in their post-apocalyptic world, overrun with monsters gleefully looking forward to tearing anyone they set their sights on apart.
***
Peter walks across the leaf-littered forest floor, his footsteps as silent.
It is a dangerous shortcut he is taking but he needs to return to the base as soon as possible. He has witnessed disturbing patterns that need studying immediately.
No birds chirp here. The forest dead silent minus the occasional rustle of a leaf. Forests are dangerous due to the noise it can create. All species learnt long ago that silence is the key to survival.
It is a dangerous, suicidal job he has undertaken, Peter knows. He has too though. He feels responsible for tackling dangerous tasks his camp needs to be done. How couldn’t he?
The world has long since forgiven the heroes for their failure, the monsters who now roam freely across the planet are near impossible to kill. It is understandable really why they lost.
But that doesn’t mean that the heroes forgave themselves, at least those that are left.
He does blame himself. It is worse, he thinks, that they had actually come close to defeating the titan.
He had been close to killing him.
But he had hesitated.
He had never killed before.
And that hesitation?
Well, it just about killed the entire planet.
A silent scoff escapes Peter as he lets his self-hate get the better of him again.
He has been walking for a while, nearing the embankment that marks the edge of their territory.
Crouching, Peter carefully lowers himself to the ground; his body pressing against the bush he is now lying under. Edging forward, he slowly makes progress, stopping only when he sees a long, spindly leg pierce the ground just ahead of him.
Stopping completely, Peter lowers himself, stomach against the floor, drawing in a breath.
The creature is loud to say the least, expected of course from the apex predator. Its long legs can be compared to that of a huntsman spider, reaching impossible distances with deadly accuracy. Scales cover its sleek black body, an impenetrable armour, protecting the vile creature from most attacks. Its’ head encased in a natural helmet of sorts, pure white eyes glowing from the depths. The vocals on those creatures are enough to split eardrums, often used in hunts.
The creature clicks softly, a low trilling noise that replicates echolocation bats use, scouting to find any prey.
If it is possible, the still forest grows even quieter; Peter not breathing at all, a well-practiced motion that he has developed over the years.
A distant snap of a twig snags the attention of the creature, its body moving in an unnatural speed towards the sound.
It is likely alone, Peter thinks as he finally releases the breath he is holding. A glance down to his watch shows only two minutes has passed.
After waiting slightly longer, Peter lifts himself back into a crouch and continues his journey.
He encounters only two other creatures during his forest trip, parker luck letting him have a win on that one.
God knows how much he needs some luck in his life.
Sighing, he gets to his feet, stretching his back as he gazes at the barren stretch ahead of him.
There is no cover, but he stands a much better chance of being quiet here.
He is only an hour or so away from the base when he sees smoke rising in the distance. Panicked, Peter quickens his pace, dread already clawing at him. He knows, instinctively, that following the smoke will lead him to where he is heading.
It is carnage when he finally arrives, bodies lie haphazardly on the ground, blood pooling into every crevice it can. A creature nearby feasting on the spilled intestines of a woman, her eyes soullessly gazing at Peter.
Screams filter from the streets up ahead, clicks and screeches accompanying the sobs of pain.
It is torture.
Peter now kneeling at the entrance, desperately covering his ears, is not used to the sensory overload.
It does not take long for the screams to cease but it feels like it lasts forever.
He knows he would never not be able to hear them; to see their soulless eyes, some still filled with sheer, otherworldly terror as Peter makes his way through the base.
The creatures leave, the thrill of the hunt over once they eat their fill. Most bodies remain untouched, wounds only to bring agonising death but unmarked from being eaten.
He searches everywhere. Anyone he finds do not last long, dying in his arms as they beg for mercy. Beg for him to finish them off. Beg for it not to hurt anymore.
For those who do not die quickly, he grants them death by his hand. His guilt over being unable to protect them haunting him regardless.
It isn’t until he reaches the building he dreads looking into does he stop. The door is open, blood drenching the floor. He has to look, has to be sure.
The lab is a mess as always. The quiet humming of electricity still active, used not too long ago.
A hand lies severed on a computer, wrinkled with age.
He recognises that hand, the burns from a fire last season still fresh in his mind. Tony had been attempting to cook again, making a right old mess of what used to resemble a mushroom. It had been a nice day, Peter laughing until he couldn’t breathe, Shuri alongside him gasping desperately for air.
Now though, all that remains of him is the hand. His death had been quick though, by the looks of it, Peter thinks. There isn’t a body meaning that he had been eaten. It seems almost hypocritical to say that he is one of the lucky ones, but he is. The outryder species that had attacked love the thrill of the hunt but never eat those that they make suffer before death. It is odd how they only ever eat those that are granted a quick death. A game perhaps, toying with the remaining humans on Earth.
Peter is quietly glad it is such a quick death. If Peter’s own guilt constantly weighs on him, Tony’s is or was a hundred times worse. They met up just a few days after that dreaded day. Both party’s guilt intensifying with every death in the aftermath, even years later.
Quietly, Peter switches off the power, grabbing his emergency stash, and leaving the camp. There is nothing left for him. No one. There isn’t any need to bury the dead either, scavengers in desperate need of food will eat them regardless. In this world, everyone is desperate for food.
One last glance at the smoky base is all Peter allows himself before he starts for the mountains.
***
It has been a year since he has last seen anyone, and quite frankly it is driving him insane. He hasn’t seen so much as an animal in the last six months, hell he would even accept seeing a glimpse of an outryder just to stop feeling so alone in the world.
His little cave dwelling sits buried in one of the Pefto mountains, large, towering peaks that were once rumoured to house ancient magic lost long ago.
He has been lucky really, finding the cave system. Even luckier knowing that outryders hate the dark. They have no night vision and as a result are completely blind in darkness, their clicks echoing of walls can only get them so far. Deep cave systems are the best place to live if only to escape the monsters. They do have disadvantages though, that increase rapidly the more humans there are. Food and water are the main concerns. A lack of ventilation is another. Large groups of humans always attract outryders so if some did manage to get into the caves, there would be no escape.
As Peter is by himself, it is a very good place to stay, too good really. Hence why he hasn’t seen a single other soul for such a long time.
“What have I been doing I hear you ask?” Dear god he really is going insane, “I discovered this tunnel that led deep underground to this sort of cave fortress type of thing. For the better part of the year, I have been exploring, finding, for example a perfect place to cultivate and grow my own food, and a library. How exciting!” He emphasises the last comment.
Slapping a hand over his face, Peter decides to stop before he really does go insane. His voice, barely above a whisper, vocals cracked and hoarse from disuse. Talking to silence is really depressing anyways.
His concept of day entirely made up at that point, Peter gets up from his makeshift bed and heads towards an undiscovered room he had yet to explore. He often gets lost in the maze of rooms, not minding too much. It helps distract him from the outside world.
The room he enters is dusty. Understatement of the century right there.
He has to back out and grab a cloth to press over his sensitive nose before re-entering. The room is small, a bookshelf in the far corner, a couple of books and beakers neatly fitted on the shelves. A desk, scattered with moth-eaten papers lying under layers of dust. Looking closer, a weird case is on the desk, standing out despite also having dust.
Curiosity wins as Peter moves over and carefully opens the case, shock radiating from the man as he stares at its contents.
There, lying in the case, is none other than a metal bracelet with two gems on it.
What are the gems? Only the time and soul stone, innocently sitting there.
A disbelieving scoff leaves Peter as he stares down at the stones. The two infinity stones are practically myths.
It is said that there are six infinity stones that grants the wielder the power of the universe, but for the longest of historical documentation, only the power, reality, mind and space stone have made appearances. The other two? Only mentioned in very early tellings of the universe and its creation.
They are said to be the most powerful stones, and yet here they are, lying innocently, collecting dust in an ancient dwelling.
The irony of seeing what could have saved them, saved Tony, saved that woman, saved the Avengers, saved his family, saved everyone, saved Ja... Just lying there.
Against perhaps his better judgement, he reaches for the bracelet, the glowing stones seemingly getting brighter as he gets closer.
His hand grasps the bracelet and slides it on, again probably against his better judgement.
Honestly though, what does he really have to live for? A life without seeing anyone ever again? Everyone dead and buried long ago? Yeah, he thinks, I’ll take this option instead.
The stones shine on his wrist, his super hearing picking up faint whispers he cannot understand. A strong urge to snap his fingers comes across him.
As he presses his fingers together, unable or unwilling to fight the urge, he secretly hopes that his next life is full of those he loves, without their deaths hanging over him.
Closing his eyes for what could be the final time, Peter snaps his fingers and blacks out.