'cause it's better than nothing

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - P Otono-Tachibana Makie Pavel Chekov Peter Parker Pidge Gunderson Prompto Argentum Psycho Mantis

Q - S Randolph Lyall Remy LeBeau Sandalio "Biffy" de Rabiffano Sanza Stark Shin-Ah Sorey Steve Rogers

T - V Taako Thor Tim Drake Tyrion Lannister Ulaz Vash the Stampede Victor Frankenstein The Vision

W - Z Wanda Maximoff Zaveid

(last updated: 1/25/19)

Comments

Peter Parker | Spectacular Spider-Man

[wallcrawler]

[The room you find yourself in is...well, cozy. And pretty well-kept and organized, especially for your average teenager. There's minimal clutter, the bed is neatly made, and while it might not be squeaky clean you'd still be hard pressed to find much dust. And while there might not be anything out there to explicitly give away the age of the room's owner, the abundance of textbooks and school supplies around the room provides a pretty good hint. Of course, should that not do the trick, at some point early into your visit you'll hear a woman shouting from downstairs, still coming in just loud enough to hear through the closed door.]

Peter? Hurry up, you'll be late for school!

[There doesn't appear to be any way to leave through the door however- any attempt to do so just leads to the discovery that the door refuses to budge. Instead, you're left to investigate your surroundings a bit more thoroughly. Three areas in particular seem to hold something of interest...or at least, something that doesn't really fit in with what you'd normally expect to find.

The first is a collection of photographs strewn over and on the desk in the room. All of them depicting rather...eccentric looking individuals.

The second is, oddly enough, the trash bin next to the desk. Or, to be more specific, maybe not the bin itself, but the half-crumpled and discarded photographs sitting atop much more mundane paper waste. Evidently, whoever took these pictures wasn't quite as pleased about how they turned out compared to the others.

As for the third...well, it's not so much something you'd see as it is something you'd hear. The door to the closet at the side of the room is slightly ajar, and what's coming out of it is...something. An unsettling mashup of noise that sounds like a cross between cicadas, some sort of large and very aggressive reptile, and plenty of other creepy, crawly unpleasantness. It's just loud enough to be faintly heard from where you're standing, but as you move closer, it grows louder and louder...just as the inside of the closet seems to get darker, until there's nothing but an incredibly noisy, black void. It's probably not a great idea to get too close...

Should anyone linger for more than a few minutes, and choose to investigate nothing, the room itself will begin to change. The color bleeds out of it until vanishing completely, before spider webs begin to fill the room and isolate the intruder. Almost like someone's deliberately safeguarding everything they'd just seen. Whether that's good or bad probably depends on just who's standing there when that someone shows up.]

[ooc note: Option 4 is the confrontational choice. After symbiote shenanigans, he knows when someone or something is hanging around in his head that shouldn't be there. He will lock everything down and show up spoiling for a fight in an effort to remove them as soon as possible, because he's going to assume ill intent.]

Re: Peter Parker | Spectacular Spider-Man

[permanentlyexhaustedbird]

[Tim is immediately drawn to the photos on the desk. They may not look like anyone he knows personally but he knows a rogue's gallery when he sees one and he wants a closer look]

[wallcrawler]

[Once you're close enough to get a better look, there's no shortage of strange looking individuals to choose from.

A pale man in a black suit, who may not look like much- at least in comparison- but whose picture would make you feel a sudden, strong sense of apprehension the longer you look at it.

A man in a weird looking red and yellow suit with high tech looking gauntlets on his hands. So much as touching the photo will make it vibrate intensely, like it doesn't want to be touched.

Some absolute weirdo with a crystal ball on his head dressed all in green, with a purple cloak swirling around him. Linger over his picture too long, and it will emit a miniature cloud of green smoke. When it clears, there's not just one of him in the picture.

A man in a brown coat with four long, sharp-clawed metal arms coming out of his back. It's just a photo, but he seems to be aware someone's watching him. The moment a hand gets too close to his photograph, it'll change to a much closer shot, and a couple of those mechanical arms will begin winding their way out of the picture to snap at your fingers.

A large, knife-wielding man is in the fifth photograph, and it looks like there's another photo underneath his. Brushing it aside to look just reveals a blacked out picture- maybe taking a closer look at the first would help?

The sixth photo is a veritable light show, prominently featuring what looks like a green-suited mass of actual electricity. Putting your hand near it will result in a harsh, but ultimately harmless, electrical shock. And then another. And another. Static electricity this is not, it's like your hand is dangerously close to a live wire.

A huge man in what looks like some sort of angry rhinoceros suit is featured in the final photograph. Unlike the others, this one can't be picked up. Despite it looking like an ordinary photo, just trying to pick it up off the desk feels like trying to life an actual tank. Probably best to leave that one where it is and try to get a better look as best you can, unless you feel like throwing out your back.

Which will he decide merits closer inspection?]

[permanentlyexhaustedbird]

[At first Tim is going for the unassuming man in the black suit but the second black photo underneath the man wielding the knife wins out and he picks that one up]

[wallcrawler]

[Once Tim chooses that picture, the room would immediately vanish. In its place, he'd find himself standing atop a billboard in the dead of winter, trying to warm his hands in the frigid night air. New York had been quiet enough so far- y'know, comparatively- but it wasn't to last. A familiar tingle goes off in his head, announcing immediate danger. He's learned to trust the sensation by now, and reacts rather than try to look for the source- quickly bending backward as an arrow, of all things, whizzes through the night air and embeds itself in the Bugle billboard. The location where it struck isn't lost on him- this wasn't just some errant shot from some kid playing around with an archery set, that was meant to go right through his side and into his heart.

Turning his head to look for the source, he'd see the same muscular man from the photograph standing atop the roof across the street and below him, another arrow already nocked and ready. Five more times he draws and fires, and five more times Tim would see himself nimbly ducking and weaving out of harm's way. He'd leap off his higher vantage point after the fifth shot was dodged, narrowly avoiding a sixth, and then a seventh as he presses down on the lever beneath his gloves to fire a web line to swing across to confront the strange assailant. Despite the many close calls, he'd feel eerily at ease as each arrow flew past. He'd already known their trajectory, just moving out of the way in time wasn't too difficult.

The man stops firing and just waits as Tim swings up to the ledge, eager to confront him and get to the bottom of all this.]

"Where'd you come from?"

[It wasn't his voice, but one Tim should immediately recognize. He'd even be aware of how he was making a conscious effort to change it, ever so slightly, from what he considered his natural speaking voice. The spider suit may have covered him from head to toe, but there was no reason to get careless about maintaining a secret identity. And now that he's closer, he can see that his strange assailant in better detail. The unusual vest he was wearing was stylized to look like the head and face of a male lion, complete with a mane at the back. Not the weirdest getup he'd seen in this city, but definitely up there.

And if the man was disappointed at the fact he hadn't managed to pierce Tim with an arrow, he didn't show it. If anything he seemed excited by his failure. Not the most reassuring thing in the world. And he's all too happy to answer Tim's question after discarding his weapon.]

"Mother Russia- by way of Mother Africa!"

[Evidently, the bow was not the man's only weapon, as he quickly drew two large, curved daggers from inside that unusual vest of his.]

"Wow, two moms and still so ill-behaved?"

[Deep down, Tim knows it's probably not wise to so brazenly mock the man who had literally just attempted to murder him. But at the same time, he'd feel himself brimming with confidence. This wasn't a threat. This was just some eccentric, delusional nutjob trying to kill him. He wasn't even the first person to try killing Tim this week, just the first to do it in such an outlandish wardrobe. But, as the man promptly lunged for him and began his attack, Tim would find himself acknowledging that he at least had talent- he wasn't just an Average Joe on the street deciding to try his luck at killing the Spider-Man, this guy had skill. Even if his motives remained a mystery.

As the battle progressed, the questions buzzing around in Tim's head would slowly be answered. His hunch was right: This guy wasn't just some random civilian, he was a very passionate big game hunter. Sergei Kravinoff. And Kravinoff had decided that his next trophy would be him. Tim has an easy enough time managing the situation, if anything he gets a little too overconfident and at one point finds himself restrained by a pair of bolas as his opponent prepares to finish him off. But he recovers, and once again seizes the upper hand.

Even being tackled into the side of a cab down below with enough force to crumple it beneath him wasn't enough to really phase him. He'd been dealt worse blows, and between his own durability and the adrenaline coursing through him, it barely registered. Now it was just a matter of putting an end to this unexpected interruption to his evening.]

"You're good- maybe at the whole hunting thing, you're even the best!"

[Despite being slightly winded, keeping the banter up as he springs himself up off a parked car and back toward a street light just feels natural. As does hanging from said street light with one hand, as he continues to talk down to the hunter.]

"But when it comes to the New York super-powered scene?"

[Not that Kravinoff takes that patronizing tone particularly well. Instead producing another knife from that vest of his, and throwing it right for Tim's face. It doesn't even register as a threat, and instead Tim would reach out and catch it, effortlessly, before it can so much as nick his mask. Something his opponent was clearly not expecting.]

"You're outta your league."

[The fight's over. Tim would watch himself take advantage of his momentarily bewildered opponent and string him up by his feet under the same street light he'd been suspended from just a moment earlier. And as Tim was departing, it was clear the hunter was not taking it well.]

"Nyet, no! This cannot be happening to Sergei Kravinoff!"

[Tim's in no mood to deal with the man any further.]

"Oh, Kravin-off."

[All that's left now is to swing away and resume his nightly patrol. Leave the hunter to be dealt with by the police...or, more immediately, mocked by the laughing crowd of bystanders who'd witnessed the aftermath of the battle.

And with that, the scene vanished. Tim was back in the same room as before. Only now, he'd see Peter Parker seated at the desk. But something was...off. His eyes were glassed over even as he turned to acknowledge Tim's presence, picking up the blacked out photograph from before.]

"Leaving was a mistake. You should've stuck around, and made sure the cops picked him up."

[He'd offer the photograph to Tim, and as he did so, the image would start to appear. And while the strange lion-faced vest from before was still readily recognizable, the man wearing it was not. He'd... gone feral, for lack of a better word. He was even bigger, covered in fur, claws, and looking like some sort of were-lion.]

"It would've saved you a lot of trouble."

[permanentlyexhaustedbird]

[Tim tentatively takes the photo from Peter's hands, waiting to see what happened to cause the change.]

[wallcrawler]

[He won't get much in the way of an answer on that front. Just another memory.

It's still winter in New York City. And Tim would find himself swinging across the city, worry about- of all things- girl troubles. And, well, to some extent, bully troubles. Something that, ultimately, would prove to be a rather unfortunate distraction. His thoughts would be interrupted by the sudden, searing pain of claws tearing through fabric and flesh alike, knocking the webline from his grasp. An even more painful fall to the busy street below is averted by another well-timed web shot, swinging off yet another street lamp and onto the side of a nearby building. His mysterious assailant comes into view not long after, the same feral-looking, mutated man from the photograph leaping onto the wall below him.]

"Hey, I know that get-up! Kravinoff, is that you?!"

[There's nothing in the way of an immediate confirmation, instead the beastman claws his way up the side of the building with astonishing speed, forcing Tim to immediately try to swing away to safety. He's intercepted seconds later, trapped in a much stronger grip and immediately falling from the sky.]

"You can call me Kraven now!"

[Thankfully he hadn't managed to gain much in the way of elevation, so the fall to an adjacent rooftop doesn't even register as painful. But his assailant is quick to break off the embrace just before impact, landing deftly in front of him while Tim's forced to scramble to his feet.]

"I could call you a lot of things- what happened to you?!"

"Same as what happened to you. Except Kraven pay for higher class of DNA!"

"You paid to do that to yourself?"

[Quippage aside, this...wasn't good. At all. And Tim knows it. Sure enough, those hunches prove to be correct. This time around, the fight is still decidedly one-sided. Only this time, it isn't in his favor. As the brawl spills into a natural history museum, it's all Tim can do just to hold his own. He can't match Kraven's speed. He can't match his strength. And while he's made progress coming into his own with a fighting style that suits his strengths, he certainly can't match Kraven's experience. He'll manage a few good hits, but it doesn't seem to faze his opponent. Meanwhile, now every blow landed by the lion-man is painfully effective, and not something he can just brush off with ease like the last time around.

To make things worse, he has to deal with a phone call. And a half-witted effort to keep his secrets while his attacker continues to try his level best at mauling him outright. As the fight spills over into the streets outside, and even Central Park, it's quickly becoming apparent to Tim that he needs to come up with something, anything that might even the odds. Otherwise, he will die.

But for now, that's where the memory ends. As he's left battered and slightly disoriented in the snow, Tim will suddenly find the memory fading away again as the bedroom comes back into focus. And this time, the Peter Parker at the desk doesn't seem nearly as out of it. If anything, he's in a mild panic, and immediately reacts to Tim's presence as hostile. He leaps out of the chair and immediately takes up a defensive stance, low to the ground- something that by now, should be rather familiar to Tim- and is clearly not pleased about the intrusion. Curiously enough, the familiar red and blue websuit even begins to manifest itself over his body. Something that might suggest this is not the first time Peter Parker has had to contend with a mental intrusion...]

Hey! Open House was last year, what the heck are you doing here?!

[permanentlyexhaustedbird]

[Tim steps back quickly and holds his hands up slowly. He's calm in opposition to Pete's current freak out]

I don't know how I got here. I simply was. I picked up one photo and then you handed me another.

I'm not here to fight you.

[wallcrawler]

[Tim keeping his cool seems to be having the desired effect, at least. Sort of. It's obvious Pete remains very, very on edge, and with suspicion to spare. He at least isn't acting like Symby would...]

How's picking up a photo get you in my head?! And I definitely don't remember handing any out, I don't even have a way to print 'em out here.

[It's his first calibration too. And the learning curve isn't a forgiving one. Sure, everything around him looks like a room, but he's also aware that can't be right.]

[universal_charm]

<sub>[ Ah, teen spirit. It seemed forever ago he had been a teenager, causing all sorts of problems. It made him sad, for a moment, realizing that he had missed another year of sending a Christmas card to the Riverside Police Force. Ah well.

The closet made his skin crawl, the primal part of his brain saying 'no no no' even though he had managed to shove that part of his brain deep down and quiet more than once as necessary. Not that Bones had ever thanked him for it, but a safe universe had. Usually.

He walks closer to the desk, leaning down to peer at the photographs, reaching out and brushing the edges to help fan them out. ]</sub>

[wallcrawler]

[There's no shortage of strange looking individuals to choose from.

A pale man in a black suit, who may not look like much but whose picture would make you feel a sudden, strong sense of apprehension the longer you look at it.

A man in a weird looking red and yellow suit with high tech looking gauntlets on his hands. So much as touching the photo will make it vibrate intensely, like it doesn't want to be touched.

Some absolute weirdo with a crystal ball on his head dressed all in green, with a purple cloak swirling around him. Linger over his picture too long, and it will emit a miniature cloud of green smoke. When it clears, there's not just one of him in the picture.

A man in a brown coat with four long, sharp-clawed metal arms coming out of his back. It's just a photo, but he seems to be aware someone's watching him. The moment a hand gets too close to his photograph, it'll change to a much closer shot, and a couple of those mechanical arms will begin winding their way out of the picture to snap at your fingers.

A large, knife-wielding man is in the fifth photograph, and it looks like there's another photo underneath his. Brushing it aside to look just reveals a blacked out picture- maybe taking a closer look at the first would help?

The sixth photo is a veritable light show, prominently featuring what looks like a green-suited mass of actual electricity. Putting your hand near it will result in a harsh, but ultimately harmless, electrical shock. And then another. And another. Static electricity this is not, it's like your hand is dangerously close to a live wire.

A huge man in what looks like some sort of angry rhinoceros suit is featured in the final photograph. Unlike the others, this one can't be picked up. Despite it looking like an ordinary photo, just trying to pick it up off the desk feels like trying to life an actual tank. Probably best to leave that one where it is and try to get a better look as best you can, unless you feel like throwing out your back.]

[universal_charm]

<sub>[ Jesus, Pete, pick your friends better. Cause all of these people look like... well, like they are the sort you don't need to be hanging around with and are one conniption away from just shaking themselves to pieces. Or exploding. Both?

After considering all the photos and oh are they are all so very interesting, he reached out and touched the image of the man that seemed to be somehow conducting lightning and not dying. He yelped when he felt the shock, at first thinking it static, and frowning as he put his hand closer and felt it again and again. What?

Gritting his teeth, he quickly slammed his hand down on the photo, because - well, honestly he's done stupider things in his life, and now this was a challenge and a photo was not about to beat him. ]</sub>

1/2

[wallcrawler]

[Turns out, slamming his hand down actually makes it hurt a lot less. Especially since if he's keeping it there rather than snatching it away, it would make things move from a harsh shock to more tolerable, continuous jolt. And maybe mess with his hair a bit, but he'd be fine.

He'd also find himself thrust headlong into a memory that seems to start off...alright, if one can get past the understanding that they've been handling significantly genetically enhanced and very dangerous electric eels just to try and get an otherwise disinterested cheerleader by the name of Liz Allen interested in science for a change. Something that the other two present kiiinda find as painful to watch as Kirk likely does. Especially since he'd be fully aware it's just a re-hashed talk from Dr. Connors.

But that's when things start to stray just a little bit from the plan. Okay, a LOT from the plan. And while the person making such an electric entrance doesn't look like the same walking lightning rod that was in the picture Kirk saw on the desk, the outfit's certainly the same. It's also right about the time he's throwing lightning around that Kirk'd probably realize the man wasn't conducting lighting, he was the lightning. Given the fact the walking lightning bolt was obviously desperate, and very intent on likely killing everyone in the room if he didn't get what he wanted, it might not be immediately noticeable that the need to do something was also coming from Peter. Who, ordinarily, didn't exactly seem like the sort of person itching to pick a fight with, well, anyone- least of all a desperate and volatile super-powered threat. But there's also one thought that Kirk would hear pretty clearly.]

Oh well, secret identity thing was fun while it lasted...

[But before he can watch himself act on that impulse, the other young man present does something only slightly dumber, and urges him to take the girls out the back while he distracts their visitor. The plan...well, works, at least to the extent that Kirk would indeed see himself rush the girls out the back. Mission accomplished there. Areas of the plan's execution that could have probably gone better: the part where the man's intercepted mid-tackle, zapped with who-knows-how-many thousands of volts of electrical discharge, and tossed to the other side of the lab. That part of the plan could have definitely gone smoother.

But he doesn't linger, and he'd do his job well. The girls are hurried out of the building and toward the nearest building on the campus, with promises of safety inside. But rather than follow after them, Kirk would watch himself turn around and run back toward the lab with the electrical freak inside.

And then jumping several stories to cling to the side of the lab.

And then fling himself up onto the roof, without using anything but the flat surface of the exterior wall and his fingertips.

And then hastily take off his civvies to reveal a blue and red costume underneath, strap a pair of odd mechanical bracelets to his wrists, and put on a similarly eccentric mask before pulling open a skylight and rappelling down into lab via webbing.

Probably not the usual teenager stuff he might have been expecting to see, here. Even with the odd assortment of characters laid out on Peter's desk back in the bedroom.

Still, the intervention doesn't come a moment too soon, as the man seems to be getting more violent by the second. To the point that Kirk'd feel the natural impulse to make sure to take the threat's attention off the scientists, and onto himself. Which proably explains why he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut, even if it's not his voice that comes out.]

"Whoa, whoa! Guys, I know it's not exactly a cure, but how 'bout some chill pills?"

[Mission definitely accomplished there, and with what no doubt feels like far less urgency than the situation demands, Kirk would feel himself immediately pull hard on the web line to yank himself upward to dodge a sudden blast of lightning from the man in green. The man's not a complete stranger- Kirk'd have memories flash past of unwittingly interrupting him not too long ago at a cafe, and provoking a similar outburst by treating him as a threat and not someone in desperate need of help- and, to the kid's credit, Kirk would definitely hear Pete admitting he was in the wrong there. And even trying to calm the man down, offer to help him...but that's a ship that has definitely sailed, as that outstretched hand of friendship just proves to be a fantastic way to get himself electrocuted. Thankfully, the nature of the rooms would prevent the full experience of getting hit with enough juice to make skin and suit alike start to smolder, but it did nothing to prevent Kirk from instinctively knowing how it felt.

Thankfully, even as the attempt to de-escalate the situation failed horribly and the man's outbursts only worsened, he didn't have to deal with a repeat of that experience. For now. Instead, he'd find himself ducking, dodging, and diving out of the way of several more blasts, leaping around the lab to stay out of harm's way. It was only once he tried subduing the man with the same webbing he'd used earlier that he took another blast- unfortunately, the webbing proved to be entirely too well suited at conducting electricity to be a viable tool when he had this guy's full attention. Which he wouldn't for long, as it did not go unnoticed that the man's real targets were quietly making their way out of the lab. It's an opportunity to restrain him, and one Kirk would watch himself seize immediately- even webbing up the exit for good measure.

Downside: Once they were clear, he'd really earned the freak's full attention. And as he jumped clear to avoid being tackled by certain, electrical death, for a brief moment he entertained the hope that the explosion that followed might have made things easy for him. At least until an even more distinctly electrified "Electro" advanced toward him from the other side of the flames.]

"That's it...the gloves are OFF!"

[Definitely not how he'd expected the night to go. Also, while he might not have been privy to Peter's exact thoughts at the moment, there was definitely a distinct knot forming in his gut that suggested he might not be too enthusiastic about his odds of, well, surviving.]

[Go ahead and end the second bit at 1:02 for now]

2/2

[wallcrawler]

[But suddenly, he'd be pulled out of that memory, and for a moment feel Pete's hand resting on his shoulder. Once it was clear Kirk had been pulled back out, he'd let go and take a couple steps back. Obviously a little unsure as to just how he'd explain...well, everything, and looking just a little bit a lot sheepish.]

So uh... is it too late to say it's not what it looks like?

[A guy can try, right? It was one thing for someone like Red Robin to see these sorts of memories. Or Keith, or even Carl. But for an actual bona-fide adult? Who he'd kind of put in an effort to convince he was just a regular kid? That was a new kind of curve ball to contend with.]

[universal_charm]

<sub>[ Well that was certainly a lot to take in. Mutants, perhaps? Like Remy? Well, not exactly like Remy and Kurt and Kitty, but they definitely had powers. Interesting ones too, which as a third party he could appreciate though he doubted Peter did in the moment.

He blinked when he felt the hand on his shoulder, turning to look at Peter. Ah, so it was his room, was it? Surprising - he hadn't talked to much to him, but he seemed like a nice guy from what he had seen here and there.

He barked a laugh at that statement, cocking a brow as in "really kid?" ]</sub>

What, you honestly think that's the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life? Don't get me wrong, though, it's quite unique. Besides, looked like you were putting your talents to good use.

[postocular]

[ At first, Carl is drawn toward the photographs, but the noise from the closet gives him a bad feeling and that's where his attention is pulled. The louder it gets, the more he needs to know what is making the noise. His first impulse is that it's some sort of walker, but this isn't home.. not even close. ]

[wallcrawler]

[Eventually all that noise would give way to a low growl. Investigating only meant that the source of all that noise had become aware of his presence, and was now prepared to introduce itself. First Carl would see a pair of big, white eyes appear in the dark, followed by a cheshire grin from a jagged tooth-filled maw. And before Carl would have a chance to react- to try fighting back, or even making a run for the door- he'd be ensnared by several strands of black webbing fired by whatever it was lurking in the dark. Struggling against it wouldn't help, and no amount of clawing or pulling at the webs would be enough to break free. But once the new presence had pulled him into the dark, he'd suddenly feel himself being flung through the air.

The room was gone, and he'd somehow landed in the backyard of an otherwise quiet home in what somehow feels like a cozy suburb, despite being a bit more cramped and confined than that label would suggest. And as he scrambles to put on a mask that he just might recognize even without the familiarity that came from the calibration room, a voice from above would get his attention. Or rather, two voices. Both saying the same thing, but sounding just slightly out of sync with one another. And the same face Carl saw before being dragged into the closet could be seen in the shadows of a tree above him.]

"Ohhh, you don't need to wear a mask with us, Pete. We know all your secrets."

[As it dropped down to the ground, Carl would be able to get a clearer view of the creature. The most immediate detail being that it was...big. Very big. Just one of its hands was larger than his head, and even with it hunched over Carl's head was only just barely level with its chest. And all it takes is a casual backhand from the creature for Carl to be knocked clear off his feet, landing on his back several feet behind with his head still spinning from the hit as he was picked up off the ground, his assailant's face dominating his entire field of view.]

"Because of course, we were you."

[He's flung through the air again, this time crashing against the wall of the home. He hit hard enough for his breath to be knocked out of him, but even winded and on the ground, he knows he has to move, and fast. Still dazed, he'd still be able to pull himself back to his feet and leap out of the way just in time, as a massive fist sails past and impacts the wall, only missing his head by a hair's breadth. And as he hears himself speak, the voice isn't his own, but one he might be able to remember hearing before.]

The symbiote! But I destroyed-

"Did you really think a little refrigeration would do us in?"

[Panic sets in. Not so much because he'd feel so laughably outclassed, but because he'd instinctively know what the words meant. He'd failed to destroy the symbiote that had taken hold of his mind, and now it had found a new host. Someone else to be its puppet, and from the look of things they weren't doing nearly as well at keeping its more violent impulses in check. Something made painfully obvious as he'd watch himself try to subdue the creature, only to be utterly overpowered and pummeled before being slammed to the ground. Thankfully, even if he'd know just how badly each of the blows hurt, the room itself would keep any of them from registering fully. Carl himself would only feel some mild pressure spreading through his skull, even though the memory made clear this was because his attacker was tightening his grip as he ground his head into the pavement. Unfortunately, the room didn't seem to extend the same protection to his hearing when the creature ended up all but shouting into his ear.]

"From now on, we're poison to both Peter Parker and Spider-Man. We're VENOM!"

[Suddenly the memory abruptly ends, and Carl would find himself being flung back into the same room he'd been in before. This time however, he's not alone. Peter is there, standing over him and slamming the closet closed as whatever was inside screeches loudly in protest. And while Carl wasn't covered in the black webbing that had dragged him in, the traces were there. Everywhere it had touched, whether fabric or flesh, was stained an inky black. And while it didn't seem to be spreading, it wasn't about to be easily wiped off or removed, either.]

[tempredmental]

[Keith took in the room. It seemed like a pretty typical bedroom. The voice startled him slightly, and he did try the door, but nope. Not going out that way. He started to go look at the photos on the desk, but the noises from the closet drew his attention.

He walked over cautiously, blade in hand.]

[wallcrawler]

[The noises stop when Keith gets near, but there's still no light to be seen inside. In fact, it even seems like the darkness inside is actually moving outside. While it slowly starts to spill out to fill the room, some of it seems to be making a concerted effort to creep along the floor toward Keith. If he moves, it will follow him. And with the door still locked, trying to run isn't really an option.

He could try to move as far away as he could, maybe try to escape again. Or even try fighting it off with that sword. But how exactly would a sword help against a creeping shadow?]

[tempredmental]

[Probably not much, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try! After all, all avenues of escape seem to be blocked or just unopenable.

Or, he could just try the sword on the door, and, if that didn't work, the window...]

[the_tailor]

[Honestly, he's happy to just see what looks to be like a normal teenager's bedroom. Just that in itself is enough to strike him with some nostalgia. For the last five-ish years of his life, he's lived in dorms and the like. So this? Yeah. He can roll with this.

The voice through the door causes him to panic for a moment, but nothing happens, so he just leaves that be before examining the room in detail. While walking about in the small space, he nearly trips over a trash bin, cursing in Spanish. Once he's gotten his balance, he glances down, seeing photos in the trash. Huh.]

[wallcrawler]

[There are three pictures in the trash, and each with varying degrees of resonance to them- emotional or well, something else.

The first photograph is of...something. A large bipedal reptile of some sort, wearing a tattered labcoat. Holding it for too long would start to impart a growing sense of regret- like you've betrayed the trust of the strange lizard-man in a way that can't be salvaged.

The second photograph shows a fairly normal looking adult man- save for the fact he's apparently morphed his hands into an oversized hammer and a spiked mace. And despite the accompanying feelings of disappointment and a sense of failure, there's also the faintest bit of respect and admiration mixed in. It's a complicated mess, to be sure.

The third photograph, however, has no such thing. Just putting a hand near it would be enough to fill Lance with very raw, very unmanageable emotion- self-loathing being the strongest of three, but with dread and unabashed hatred for the unusually dressed green man rivaling it for dominance. Hesitating near this photograph would also produce further effects, however. Not only would the figure start tossing a small orange device in the air, but he would also begin to laugh. A low chortle at first, but soon giving way to a clearly unhinged fit of uproarious, howling laughter that only made the feelings imparted by the photograph grow stronger to match.

Just touching one wouldn't be enough to trigger a memory. But holding one and trying to get a closer look at that photograph specifically, on the other hand...]

[the_tailor]

[These are...certainly something. Lance stares oddly at each of the pictures, wondering just what they are. Who they are. But the strongest emotion is coming from the third picture, and he picks it up, examining it carefully.]

[wallcrawler]

[The laughing would only get louder before the room around Lance vanishes, and he finds himself reliving the longest night of Pete's admittedly short life.

It's also probably not the sort of memory Lance would ever expect the Parker kid to have. Swinging through the New York skyline, getting blown up, beat up, sliced up, even nearly having his head taken off by a mid-air collision with the costumed lunatic's glider. And while the hectic nature of a battle that size would probably be at least somewhat familiar to Lance, this time around he wasn't navigating it from the cockpit of a giant mechanical war lion.

And while he thankfully didn't actually feel any pain, he'd at least be aware of it as the memory played out. Even more so of the fact that Pete's colorful outfit wasn't much more than that- it was just an outfit, offering no protection to speak of.

Though something he least expected to see was yet to come. He'd won, but it was hardly a feel-good moment. Instead of webbing the bad guy up and leaving him for the cops, he'd crashed the GOblin's glider right into one of his rooftop turrets, presumably scattering bits and pieces of him all across the city. Right in front of Harry. His best friend.

And the Goblin's son.

Despite everything he'd just been through, that realization hurt the most. Like a knife to the gut that just wouldn't stop turning. He'd been in Harry's shoes, he knew how it felt, but nothing on this level. He didn't have to see it happen, and it wasn't a close friend who took Uncle Ben from him. But now he'd inflicted all that on Harry, with no way to fix it let alone apologize for it.

It was for the best that the memory ended there- at least then Lance wouldn't have to go through everything that came after. He'd be back in the room right where he was before, only this time around Pete was there with him- though, not really feeling up to saying anything. Instead, Pete was seated at the edge of the bed, hunched forward with his head in his hands. This...wasn't a memory he wanted being dredged up, and now those same feelings of fury and guilt were back for him to deal with all over again.]

[the_tailor]

[Holy... shit.

The guy in the red and blue superhero suit wasn't unfamiliar to Lance, as he'd seen him around the network once or twice before. But he wouldn't have had any reason to connect it to Pete. That in itself is surprise enough, but, okay. It isn't as if he himself wasn't a teenager suddenly thrown into a life of battling bad guys.

Throughout most of the fight, he's incredibly impressed at Pete's skills, but god. He could sense that pain. Was there a reason he didn't use proper armor? Either or, all he could do was watch.

Watch a scene play out that was hardly a victory, even if the battle was won.

By the time the memory fades, he sees Pete before him, sitting at the bed. Lance takes a few steps over and sits down next to him, making his presence known before leaning in and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.]