So, this is pretty damn creepy. Maybe not trapped in a giant donut ship with potential alien chest-bursters creepy, but it's definitely got a Fallout, we came here to escape the bomb and/or do horrible experiments on people vibe.
Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little excited about it.
Not that he's happy, because everything leading up to this has been really, really terrible and upsetting, and a girl died and apparently everybody nearby was in some kind of awful trance that made it impossible to stop from happening. Peter hadn't been there; he'd been up in his room working on systhesizing chemical compounds from the local plantlife, oblivious to there even being a problem until it was all over. He'd felt pretty bad — Still feels pretty bad — but he's been thinking about the conversation he had with Kamala that day with the werewolf, and he knows what she'd tell him (because she's way more sensible than he is): If Cap and Black Widow couldn't stop it, you probably couldn't, either.
But he's here now because he's desperate to do something, and curious, too, and when the pod screeches to a halt rather than rocking them gently to a stop, he's not really worried — One, they can climb back out the way they came even if it's dark and really far, and two, why yes, someone here is good at machines.
It's him. He's good at machines.
"Yeah," he replies, jumping quickly down from the pod out onto the track. Crouching, he waves away the curl of smoke slipping from beneath the carriage. "It doesn't smell electrical, so that's good news. It might just need a tune up, like you said."
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Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little excited about it.
Not that he's happy, because everything leading up to this has been really, really terrible and upsetting, and a girl died and apparently everybody nearby was in some kind of awful trance that made it impossible to stop from happening. Peter hadn't been there; he'd been up in his room working on systhesizing chemical compounds from the local plantlife, oblivious to there even being a problem until it was all over. He'd felt pretty bad — Still feels pretty bad — but he's been thinking about the conversation he had with Kamala that day with the werewolf, and he knows what she'd tell him (because she's way more sensible than he is): If Cap and Black Widow couldn't stop it, you probably couldn't, either.
But he's here now because he's desperate to do something, and curious, too, and when the pod screeches to a halt rather than rocking them gently to a stop, he's not really worried — One, they can climb back out the way they came even if it's dark and really far, and two, why yes, someone here is good at machines.
It's him. He's good at machines.
"Yeah," he replies, jumping quickly down from the pod out onto the track. Crouching, he waves away the curl of smoke slipping from beneath the carriage. "It doesn't smell electrical, so that's good news. It might just need a tune up, like you said."