Tremors were slowly turning into full on paralysis and whatever grin it was that had came over his face made Peter feel just as hideous as the fact that he couldn't breathe. He had no idea what was going on and the seeming chaos of the moment was fading as his own terror grew. There was a rushing of blood in his ears that almost drowned out the sound of his stupid laughter and all Peter wanted to do was to make it all stop.
Especially when the Joker leaned down and very nearly gutted him, Peter couldn't even react to the hideous amount of pain, to the spilling of his own blood -- it was too hard to breathe between the laughing, not that the searing pain helped as blood pooled in his lap, spread out down across his legs. Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could do was hope that the Joker let him die in peace, or at least however peaceful you could call laughing your ass off until you choked to death was.
But no, the heel in his side proved that peaceful wasn't going to be an option and then suddenly, he was dropping, his eyes opening wide, knowing exactly how this was going to end. He'd been shoved off roofs before and there was no moving, no escaping the inevitable collision as the wind whipped around him.
And then as his head split across the pavement, everything simply stopped. It was all over, just like that.
Who knew if it was the impact or the poison that killed Peter this time -- or perhaps it was a combination of the two, though it hardly mattered. Either way, Peter laid there for a short while, in a growing pool of his own blood, as the Police Voids picked up and moved on, still on the hunt for the escaping Joker.
But as soon as the voids were out of range, as Peter's body had done numerous times before, he brought himself back: his skull rebuilt, his skin began to knit itself back together, the rictus grin unwinding its way across his face, his body undoing the full on paralysis. After another few seconds, Peter finally sat upright with a sudden gasp of breath, shifting, cracking and realigning his broken back in the process. Trying to reorient himself, Peter knew well enough that the fact that he'd come back to life meant the voids were gone.
Except as he slowly started to push himself back onto his feet with blood tricking down his neck, the tremors started again, and suddenly Peter was infinitely more terrified than he wanted to be.
It was going to happen all over again and there was nothing he could do. Cellular regeneration hadn't removed the poison from circulating through his veins, and as the shaking turned violent, Peter practically threw himself into a shadow, working his way through the darkness and back into a corner of his apartment. Breathing hard and dripping blood, it was when one laugh pulled out of him that Peter was practically running to the bathroom in an attempt to avoid Sylar, splattering blood as he went.
fff sorry for all the edits
Especially when the Joker leaned down and very nearly gutted him, Peter couldn't even react to the hideous amount of pain, to the spilling of his own blood -- it was too hard to breathe between the laughing, not that the searing pain helped as blood pooled in his lap, spread out down across his legs. Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could do was hope that the Joker let him die in peace, or at least however peaceful you could call laughing your ass off until you choked to death was.
But no, the heel in his side proved that peaceful wasn't going to be an option and then suddenly, he was dropping, his eyes opening wide, knowing exactly how this was going to end. He'd been shoved off roofs before and there was no moving, no escaping the inevitable collision as the wind whipped around him.
And then as his head split across the pavement, everything simply stopped. It was all over, just like that.
Who knew if it was the impact or the poison that killed Peter this time -- or perhaps it was a combination of the two, though it hardly mattered. Either way, Peter laid there for a short while, in a growing pool of his own blood, as the Police Voids picked up and moved on, still on the hunt for the escaping Joker.
But as soon as the voids were out of range, as Peter's body had done numerous times before, he brought himself back: his skull rebuilt, his skin began to knit itself back together, the rictus grin unwinding its way across his face, his body undoing the full on paralysis. After another few seconds, Peter finally sat upright with a sudden gasp of breath, shifting, cracking and realigning his broken back in the process. Trying to reorient himself, Peter knew well enough that the fact that he'd come back to life meant the voids were gone.
Except as he slowly started to push himself back onto his feet with blood tricking down his neck, the tremors started again, and suddenly Peter was infinitely more terrified than he wanted to be.
It was going to happen all over again and there was nothing he could do. Cellular regeneration hadn't removed the poison from circulating through his veins, and as the shaking turned violent, Peter practically threw himself into a shadow, working his way through the darkness and back into a corner of his apartment. Breathing hard and dripping blood, it was when one laugh pulled out of him that Peter was practically running to the bathroom in an attempt to avoid Sylar, splattering blood as he went.