WHO: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner
WHERE: THE STREET
WHEN: This log takes place between the minutes of 11:23pm to 11:34 pm
WARNINGS: Naked Men! CPR! Shenanigans!
SUMMARY: CITY-WIDE EMP. Tony is fucked.
FORMAT: Whateva'
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Are you scared to be forgotten )
"Oh crap."
Peter hovers his hands frantically over Tony, really rather unsure of what to do. WHAT DOES HE DO?!
"Oh crapcrapcrapcrapcrap."
He looks over to THE HULK for support and is about to say something when he realizes... HE'S LOOKING TO THE HULK FOR HELP.
...
Wait.
Peter starts gesturing wordlessly as he thinks frantically about what he's going to do, lightbulbs going off in his head, as Tony gasps up at him like a floundering fish. He rips off his gloves and tears off a web-shooter and begins to pull it apart-- dismantle it as quickly as possible. The web-shooters could release liquid at the press of the plunger on the palm of his hand when he needed so... why did it have to be webbing fluid? Why couldn't it be...
Tony needed adrenaline. He wasn't going to be able to get it at this rate, and... god, Tony was dying and... he looked to the Hulk again, and then.... THE HULK. Peter stood up and slowly approached the Hulk with this makeshift syringe in his hand.
"Hey, uh... I need a favor, big guy. I'm gonna need to poke you with this and take a little bit of blood from you. Whaddya say? You wanna be a pal and help Spidey out?" Pete had his hands up defensively. He had never seen Bruce here transform, so he wasn't entirely aware that he had more control, and really, whenever he was around the Hulk, the greatest discretion was usually required.
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"Epinephrine. To keep his heart moving, correct? My blood can stimulate his heart, but I don't know what the immediate side-effects will be. Is this really your plan?"
He keeps his voice low, even. He doesn't want Spider-Man to mistake him for stupid---not when Stark's life might hang in the balance.
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Dead tech in his bloodstream. His nanotech was dead.
He was going to be dead again if something didn't happen. If it had been a few years ago, he would have trusted the two of them implicitly. Peter was a genius, as was Banner. Two of them together could come up with a plan.
However, he didn't. Not anymore. Hell, he wouldn't trust himself let alone people whom he'd practically betrayed.
Then he heard the plan.
Oh. Oh no. No not that. His breathing, or what could be constituted as that quickened. Short, gasping breaths.
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"Uh... yeah, actually..." he scratched at the back of his head and then approached the Hulk with the makeshift needle. "And it's the only plan I've got, so unless you've got a better one..."
He was drawing the blood now. "Saving naked, dying billionaires isn't really like a daily thing, so I don't really have a Plan B to fall back on."
He could hear Tony gasping at this point, and man, he didn't really want the guy to be retarded, so he had to hurry. He moved back over to Tony and regarded the situation with nervous severity for a moment before taking apart his other web-shooter to create a longer needle of sorts that would be long enough to break through the breastplate and reach his heart.
In the meantime, Peter hiked up his mask and leaned in low to Tony and grimaced slightly. "Look, before I do this, I just don't want you to get the idea that I'm easy, okay? I mean... ugh... nevermind," he sighed. "I can't even make this joke."
Then he began CPR.
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"Take it," he rumbles.
"We don't have time. We'll figure the rest out later. It can be controlled if we flush him quickly."
His upper lip curls when he kneels by Stark with that shooter full of acid-green blood. This seems wrong---a mistake. At least, a dark and wholly detached part of himself realizes, if Stark turns into something like him, he can be put down.
Hulk is strongest there is.
His eyes close and he puts a finger to the puncture wound---mosquito-small and already healed. Good. He calms himself, breathes, and reverts with painful-sounding crunches and snaps of muscle and bone.
Fully human again, Bruce peers at Spider-Man with bleary eyes.
"No pulse or breathing? I'll switch with you after three rounds of compressions."
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Maybe if he was ten years younger, blonde, and female he'd be ok with this, but Peter wasn't and he was trying to protest this by moving his eyes when his heart actually stopped.
Over ten years of keeping it alive through artificial means and it stopped right now.
He tried to struggle, but it wasn't working.
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There was maybe a split second where he thought it might not have worked when Tony's pulse and heartbeat came back pounding harder than he could imagine, but there was still the matter of oxygen, and he had to continue CPR.
He leaned back down and was about to give a breath when he stopped and moved to his knees. "WHY IS EVERYBODY NAKED."
"DON'T YOU LIKE... don't you like carry spare pants or anything?"
He gave a frustrated sigh and continued with the CPR, and inwardly tried to go to his happy place.
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"I'll take over."
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God he was in so much pain.
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"Careful," he warned. "His mustache tickles."
God, that sounded so gay.
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Later, he's going to be annoyed that this is the most contact he's had with anyone since Betty was Ported out.
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He has hulk blood in in his heart, he was just given CPR by Spider-Man, and now the Hulk.
If this wasn't going to keep him alive, he would be a very upset man right now.
Instead he just kept staring through open eyes in horror.
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When he leaned down he did a short double take and moved back.
"Is he crying?"
"He can't blink. His tear ducts are probably compensating for the lack of moisture," Bruce responded.
Peter paused. "I dunno, dude."
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It burned for a few moments, before his nanites were moving again.
"Don't get any closer," he managed to mumble, trying to move. Oh, wasn't he naked? Gold metal leaked from the ports on his skin, and he shook his head, weakly trying to stand.
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"Wow this is just getting grosser and grosser by the second."
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