Work Text:
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Though, Peter supposed, nobody planned for it to end like this. Who would?
All things considered, his tale might have a sadder end than even the most common fairy tale villains. Even if someone did plan to end up like this, the chances they would plan for it to happen at 2 am, in a dark forgotten alley, all alone, was infinitely small.
Peter scoffed. He'd always been the one to fall within those very small odds. Being diagnosed with ADHD and anxiety before the age of three? Sure, why not? Surviving a bite from a radioactive spider? Just another Tuesday. Winning a fight with a man-eating lizard-man hybrid that he accidentally helped create? Parker luck. Really, getting stabbed by the person he was trying to help was about par for the course.
Peter groaned and curled further into himself. He had removed the knife, shooting himself with web solution to hopefully act as a bandage while his super healing did its work. But he must have been running low on nutrients or sleep or maybe the wound was just more serious than he'd thought. Whatever the issue, his webandage wasn't working enough.
He wasn't healing fast enough. His skin refused to knit back together. He was in tremendous pain in both his leg and his stomach.
He hadn't bothered to check his leg till this point, too concerned with webbing himself together and jumping off the roof top into this alleyway to avoid the police. It hadn't started hurting till that jump, which meant that was most likely what caused it. But now that his abdomen was as taken care of as he could get it, Peter decided to look at his leg.
The sight made him nauseous. A shard of bone stuck out the side of his shin, and his foot was turned entirely backwards. Bone fragments and blood covered the ground nearby.
Logically, Peter knew he should web it shut. But before he could take that motion, he'd have to realign his leg bones and force his ankle back around. Otherwise his healing would heal his leg back together, backwards. Which was only a slightly less terrifying thought than his current situation. So he had to play doctor.
But Peter was already in so much pain. He already had attempted one webandage. It didn't seem to be helping much. Plus Peter didn't think it was a good idea to play doctor with his vision fading like it was. It kept flashing away, and when it was there it was fuzzy and barely discernible. He couldn't hear anything not even the sirens, though he could still see the richoshaying flashing red and blue lights, however fuzzy it was.
Somehow finding the energy, Peter lifted his hand from applying pressure to his belly. He went to force himself to reposition his leg, only to find even worse news. His suit was covered in blood.
A fuzzy glance down confirmed Peter's worst fears. He was bleeding through the webandage. Even more serious, the blood was causing the solution to loose its effectiveness as the blood cells attacked what they considered a foreign substance.
In short, Peter was doomed. He laid down, head spinning. The lights seemed to be moving closer. With a weak hand, Peter put his hand to his face feeling the fact that his mask was still there. He vaguely wondered if the police would take it off when they found his body. Would they tell Aunt May? Or would she forever left to wonder what happened to her 17 year old nephew?
With these final thoughts, Spiderman finally lost consciousness, for what might have been the last time.