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[myresponsibility]

[So, as it turns out? Running into things without really giving proper thought to the consequences is a terrible idea, which is a lesson you'd think Peter would have learned by now.

But, he didn't, which is why when the Admiral offered him the deal on the roof of the OsCorp tower, he'd taken the deal without thinking about it. Which meant he was currently on the floor of his room in his Spider-Man costume, sans mask, bruised and cut up and with a bullet in his thigh which was reallyyyy starting to hurt.

A couple minutes later, he'd managed to get himself out of his costume and into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and found his comm. He clicks on the video feed and fumbles with it a little, finally getting it so everyone's got a pretty good look at his face. There are cuts and scrapes all over his face, most of which look pretty fresh and some look pretty nasty, and there are definitely some bruises forming.]

Hi, um- [He blinks and rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to focus.] Is there a doctor or... Something on board? I could kinda use a hand.

[ooc: Alex and Tim have dibs on getting him to the infirmary, but feel free to ask him what the hell happened. He'll have a more official intro going up tomorrow or the day after. c:]

Comments

[myresponsibility]

[Not talking definitely seemed like a good idea. He was starting to feel like he was going to pass out, or at least kind of hovering in that territory, and damn, what was his plan to get off the building again? It's not like he could just wait for the cops to show up and take him to the hospital in his costume.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, breathing hard and trying not to groan too pathetically when he moved his leg. He really should have thought this through a little better.]

[peektuttut]

It's gonna be okay, [Tim said quietly, before lapsing into silence himself. He could hear the groan, see the signs. If they didn't get there quick, he and Alex were going to be carrying him. So he picked up the pace, just a little, trying to shift so Peter could put more weight on him; the height difference made it hard. But as they made it down the last of the stairs, he nodded toward the infirmary. It was in sight, now, they could make it.]

[tolaywaste]

Don't put weight on it. [ This after what felt like an eternity of silence. He didn't like this at all, but at least there was help close. ] Just - [ He readjusted his grip, lips tight. ] Five steps, just lean on us, all right?

[myresponsibility]

[He knew he should probably just give in and pass out before he screwed up his leg anymore, but he was stubborn and didn't just want to be dragged the rest of the way, even if he ended up closing his eyes to stop the hallway from wobbling. He thought about nodding, but he didn't really have the energy for it and just kept walking.] Right.

[By the time they got to the infirmary, Peter was basically all but out of it, leaning heavily on Alex and Tim.]

[lastincident]

[ Every day's a new surprise. Manning the desk at the moment and fussing with paperwork is one Dr. Bruce Banner; he glances up when he hears the door open, and is then on his feet a moment later to help with Peter's weight. ]

New arrival? Came in a bit beat, didn't he?

[peektuttut]

You could say that, [Tim said dryly, grateful to hand off the baton, so to speak. It wasn't that he couldn't hold Peter up, if he had to - it was that he was short, Peter was tall, and the angle really sucked.]

He was kinda maybe shot. [Nope, never letting that go, Pete.]

[lastincident]

[ ... welp okay time to get the place prepped. ]

Do you need help getting him on the table?

[tolaywaste]

No. [ He looks at Tim for confirmation. ] We got him this far.

[peektuttut]

[It tells him something about Alex, and Tim catches the look and nods. He wonders if it's just a sense of pride, or - it's too early for it to be a looking out for his own thing, but maybe that has something to do with it. In any case, he helps Peter hobble along, and supports him up onto the table.]

[myresponsibility]

[Peter's wayyy too distracted to be reading much into what his helpers are doing. There's definitely a lot of blood on his sweatpants now, and once he's on the table, staying sitting up by himself is clearly not something he's going to be managing for much longer.]

[lastincident]

Right. [ Whatever, boys. Bruce'll get his gloves and get to work as soon as Peter's up on the table-- reaching out to help ease him back. ]

Son, can you hear me? If you have any allergies to medications I need to know right now, because I'm going to give you something for the pain, and then get to work.