Living With Secrets

Requiem

Peter, Wanda, and Wade moved closer to the building, trying to make as little noise as possible. They didn't want attention to be drawn to them in any way, so each had left their costumes behind and were clad in solid black.

The plan was simple. In and out. Wanda was going to hang around the outside of the building, where she could easily keep a look out and call for back up if the boys needed. Peter and Wade, however, would be slipping in through the back entrance of the hospital. If all their intelligence was correct, which it was, the Doc had set up a makeshift lab on the second floor of the hospital, in one of the older operating rooms.

Wade made a series of hand signals, and Peter and Wanda both nodded. They were ready.

Wanda crept into the underbrush, staying out of sight, and wade started inching forward, taking his time to be quiet. Peter couldn't help but think of a predator, stalking prey.

It was easy enough to get in. There was little security, if you could call a broken chain held together by a stick through 2 of the links, wrapped around the handles of the doors, security. If it weren't for the fact that they were both deathly afraid, desperate for revenge, and dedicated to the idea that no child would ever be hurt by Doc Ock again, they would have been making jokes about the place being haunted.

Limp paint and wallpaper hung from the walls like skin from a corpse. Lights, dusty and broken, hung from the ceiling, and the few that were on, flickered. The floors were covered in grime, giving the once white tiles a dingy, grey look. The walls and floors creaked with the wind outside, as if the hospital itself were breathing.

Wade made a gesture, and Peter gestured back. The brunet veered to his right and latched onto the walls, climbing up and wandering up and down the walls and ceiling. As the two boys got closer to the large staircase in the 'lobby' of the hospital, they could hear faint music. Peter shuddered. This was exactly why he hated horror movies: the music.

As they made their way upstairs, the music got louder. It was a classical piece, something vaguely familiar to Peter. The realization of what it was hit Peter like a ton of bricks, and everything stopped.

Wade glanced over his shoulder, looking for where Peter was, only to find him frozen in one place, his eyes blown wide and his breath ragged.

"Peter?" Ned, who was watching Peter's vitals through Karen, and who could hear the sudden change in breath through the com, tried to pull Peter out of his own head. "Pete, what's wrong?"

Peter didn't reply. Wade shuffled back down the stairs, to where Peter was latched onto the wall. Grabbing onto his friend's shoulder, Wade brought Peter's eyes to his.

"Peter," Wade whispered. "We gotta move. What's wrong?"

"The music," Peter gasped softly. "The music. Natasha plays it for me when I can't sleep."

"Stop it, Peter. Get that out of your mind, focus. He's not a good guy. Think about what he did to you."

Peter shook his head, a silent way of telling Wade "it doesn't matter".

"Think about what he did to Morgan."

Peter's eyes glossed over, and then he was back. He didn't say anything, just kept moving. Wade followed him, unsure of what just happened, but unwilling to check in with his friend, just in case it halted their movement again.

The music grew louder and louder, a crescendo of noise, once a source of happiness and comfort for Peter, now turned a taunting nightmare. It was a requiem, played prematurely. Whether it was for the boys or the doctor was still yet to be seen.

Wade pushed open the door of the operating room and leaned to the side, letting Peter stick his head in next to his own. The two peered through the room, looking for the doctor.