Night 46: East Wing, Hall A (First Floor)
[From here.]
Round a corner, and they were facing two rows of doors. Each had a tidy plaque slotted on the top listing the doctor's name and the office number. End of the road for tonight. He prayed that if Luxord had any special powers at all, that it wasn't super hearing or mind reading or empathy-something or any number of talents that would clue him in on just how terrified Peter had become in the last five minutes.
He shouldn't be scared. He was the one getting the drop on Luxord, not the other way around. He was going to shut him in an office, grill him about Grell, and make sure that he never so much as looked at Brainy again.
Yet now that they were here, Peter wasn't sure he could do what it took to guarantee that.
Butler Bad Vibes (and pretty much every adult superhero he'd met ever) told him that the only way to make certain was to kill them. Peter couldn't do that. He'd rather die himself than kill. This wasn't like the zombies or that thing Dr. Connors had made from his blood. Luxord was a human being, or something close to it. He was alive and could think and those other things couldn't. Even when Harry spoke, it hadn't been him. He was some evil thing's puppet and he'd already been dead for days. Peter couldn't blame Indy for doing what he did that night.
The other option the Butler gave was even worse: leave them alive, but cripple them. Blind them, take off their hands, break their spines. No. A million times no. Peter might have beaten up crooks and megalomaniacs in his spare time, but that was more to subdue them until the police or S.H.I.E.L.D. came to take them away. He liked to think he wasn't cruel about it. He'd only sent two people to the hospital before and broken Keman's arm during Special Counselling, but those were accidents. He never aimed to break bones or anything, just for a clean knock out or enough to let them know they were beat.
Except that wouldn't cut it here. There were no police. No help. This place was just a notch above being in a prison anyway, and the nurses would never believe Peter if he tried to tell them.
Oh man, he should have asked Brainy if Luxord had any powers before something like this happened. He was so stupid. Peter had his strength (barely), but would that be enough? If he was going to fight him, he had make sure that Luxord knew it'd be a bad idea to cross him ever again. He had to take the fun out of the gamble.
Sweet Mother of Spock, he was in deep shit.
Luxord would know something was up if he hesitated much longer. Peter steeled his nerves. He could do this. He'd think of something. He could think while they ransacked the office.
"You like games, no? Pick a number between one and eight."
Round a corner, and they were facing two rows of doors. Each had a tidy plaque slotted on the top listing the doctor's name and the office number. End of the road for tonight. He prayed that if Luxord had any special powers at all, that it wasn't super hearing or mind reading or empathy-something or any number of talents that would clue him in on just how terrified Peter had become in the last five minutes.
He shouldn't be scared. He was the one getting the drop on Luxord, not the other way around. He was going to shut him in an office, grill him about Grell, and make sure that he never so much as looked at Brainy again.
Yet now that they were here, Peter wasn't sure he could do what it took to guarantee that.
Butler Bad Vibes (and pretty much every adult superhero he'd met ever) told him that the only way to make certain was to kill them. Peter couldn't do that. He'd rather die himself than kill. This wasn't like the zombies or that thing Dr. Connors had made from his blood. Luxord was a human being, or something close to it. He was alive and could think and those other things couldn't. Even when Harry spoke, it hadn't been him. He was some evil thing's puppet and he'd already been dead for days. Peter couldn't blame Indy for doing what he did that night.
The other option the Butler gave was even worse: leave them alive, but cripple them. Blind them, take off their hands, break their spines. No. A million times no. Peter might have beaten up crooks and megalomaniacs in his spare time, but that was more to subdue them until the police or S.H.I.E.L.D. came to take them away. He liked to think he wasn't cruel about it. He'd only sent two people to the hospital before and broken Keman's arm during Special Counselling, but those were accidents. He never aimed to break bones or anything, just for a clean knock out or enough to let them know they were beat.
Except that wouldn't cut it here. There were no police. No help. This place was just a notch above being in a prison anyway, and the nurses would never believe Peter if he tried to tell them.
Oh man, he should have asked Brainy if Luxord had any powers before something like this happened. He was so stupid. Peter had his strength (barely), but would that be enough? If he was going to fight him, he had make sure that Luxord knew it'd be a bad idea to cross him ever again. He had to take the fun out of the gamble.
Sweet Mother of Spock, he was in deep shit.
Luxord would know something was up if he hesitated much longer. Peter steeled his nerves. He could do this. He'd think of something. He could think while they ransacked the office.
"You like games, no? Pick a number between one and eight."