MHA : Spider-Man

"So I was just the same guy, but this 

time I was able to do good things and just didn't because I was selfish and mad at too many things at once."

...

Hound Dog nodded, the room being filled with the sound of typing before the man turned back to him.

"This is when the fight rings started, right? Around the time you got your quirk?" He asked, Peter nodded. "So you began to participate in fight rings due to your aunt and uncle's money problems and for a chance to… hit back at the world?"

" Exactly! And this is gonna make me sound bad, but just- listen, alright?" Hound Dog nodded, keeping an even expression while typing on his keyboard. "I-It felt good to hit back, you know? To just see a guy who had nothing to do with your problems or with you, and just end up in a fight with him which means you can just… take out all that anger and stuff on him . 

You can just grab everything bad and horrible eating you up and the stuff that stresses you out so much you want to throw up and you just bring it all together into one big ball of negativity and unhealthiness to just focus it on one guy who you didn't know or care about before hitting him over and over until you felt a bit better . And you just keep doing it. "

God, Peter probably sounded like a fucking psychopath right now, Maybe this is how he's deemed a potential danger and kicked out of UA.

And still he kept fucking going, cause he was rambling now and he couldn't stop.

"And-And you get hurt sometimes, yeah? Cause all that bad stuff you're taking out on random people kinda blinds you so you take some hits here and there and they hurt, but you're angry and you're making money for the people you care about so you ignore it even if some of the hits hurt so bad you shake at night because you can't close your eyes without wanting to cry." 

Peter gave Hound Dog a look that said 'You get it, right? Right?' because he wants someone to listen to this stuff without him nearly dying first. Hound Dog nods back, typing while keeping kind eyes on him. "But the people you care about start getting worried, and because you're already stressed out because you need to get more money you kinda lash out at them when they figure out where you get money from."

"Your aunt and uncle found out about the fight clubs?" Hound Dog asked, curiosity and concern in his voice.

"Just Ben, and we were in Japan at this point but May knew something was up." Peter said, getting ready to keep talking about all the shit eating him up inside even if it feels he can't fucking breathe. "So your uncle gets worried after you storm out, and he goes looking for you without knowing you went to pick up the pay for this week of fighting."

And Peter realizes he gets to the point where stuff got bad, where stuff went wrong.

"But wanna know what happens? The guy running the whole thing gives you like 10% of the usual pay just cause he feels like it, says he 'Missed the part where that's my problem'. So you're mad and bitter at him and at everything, but as you're walking out of the place you see something…"

Hound Dog stops typing, giving him his full attention.

Probably for the best, because Peter was kinda running on fumes right now and didn't think he'd have the energy to tell him all of this again.

"A guy stole all the money from the dude running the fight ring, and he's got all of it in a duffle bag while he's running down the hall you're walking down. And wanna know what happens next?" Peter asks, leg bouncing more and more because he can't stop talking. " You step aside and let him go, because 'You missed the part were that was your problem'"

Hound Dog looks like he knows what happens next, but he doesn't stop Peter cause he probably needs to let this all out in a healthy environment. As healthy as he could get, anyway.

But letting all of this out without having to scream it at someone who's screaming at him after nearly dying in a sewer is healthy enough for him.

"And next you know that same guy is holding a smoking gun with your uncle bleeding out beneath him on the sidewalk." Peter drops the manic nature his voice gained as he rambled on and on, now sounding like he was just relieving the same moment for the thousandth time.

Maybe because he was.

Hound Dog was about to say something, anything before Peter began to bury himself deeper in the past and guilt but Peter beat him to it.

"So half the people you care about at the moment are dead and it's your fault, and your uncle, thet amazing guy that he is, maybe as spiteful revenge or as parting wisdom, he tells you that 'With great power, there must also come great responsibility.'. Which basically translates to 'You can do great things, so you gotta do them or whatever bad things happen because you didn't do those things are on you. '." Peter wants to go to bed. 

"And with those words, you decide you gotta change who you are into someone your uncle and maybe your dad would've wanted you to be and decide to help people no matter what."

Hound Dog takes it in, sensing Peter isn't done yet and gives a small nod. "I am… sorry you had to go through that, especially at your age."

Yeah.

Yeah, Peter was sorry, too.

"So, Ben's gone so you-you gotta change and be a better person, start using these crazy abilities you never wanted but got in the morally correct way, right? And you gotta do it now, cause if you don't then bad things are gonna happen to innocent people and that's gonna be your fault because of course it is, so you become a vigilante that helps people nonstop. 

You swing around for hours and you talk people out of doing bad things and you pull them out of fires and you make sure they don't get shot or just stop drugs and weapons from getting into their neighborhoods." He takes a breath, scars on his forearms begin to burn and ache.

He's so tired .

"But you're still angry and spiteful and bitter and selfish like before, because you're the same guy but trying to be a person the uncle he got killed would be proud of. So while you're out there fighting crime, you take even worse hits than before, and you nearly die a couple times, and you think that stuff is gonna be a one-time thing but it's not. 

You keep nearly dying and you keep getting hurt and you hate how it still feels good to hit people back because Ben wouldn't have wanted you to feel that way, yeah?"

He wants to call May and cry on the phone.

"And wanna know something dumb? Sometimes it feels like you purposely get yourself in those situations because god forbid you actually deal with grief and loss like a normal person and be there for your aunt who was just made a widow. And you keep doing it cause you have so much going on already with responsibility and with Spider-Man and with the 11 different crime groups you're tracking and you're fucking tired."

Hound Dog kinda looks sad, like he wants to reach out and say something but he knows letting Peter burn himself out a little longer is for the best.

"You're tired and you don't want to do this anymore even if you're actually helping people out, you know? Cause you're selfish and fed up that no one's helping you out with anything and you got the weight on the world on your shoulders and you're a day away from collapsing and your aunt won't look you in the eyes sometimes cause if she does then she sees her husband that you let die and-and-and-" Peter runs his hands through his hair frantically, only now noticing he's been pacing this entire time.

Because being Spider-Man does this to you, and yet he's still Spider-Man.

"And people keep dying… Over and over you keep failing everyone around you and good people die, people who probably were going to change the world or cure cancer or something and you let them die but you're still here and-" Peter rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

"But I'm still here."

There's a beat of silence as he sits down.

"I'm still here and so many people aren't because I wasn't good enough, and Ben isn't here, and Mizuku Yamamoto isn't here, there's a trail of bodies a mile long behind me but I'm still here. " He breathes, anger and rage and grief bubble up but they're barely ashes of what they used to be.

Peter Parker is still here.

"And for what? Why am I still here? Why do I get to be the one with these random abilities a million other people could use for better causes or just use better ? Why do I get to be the one with responsibility?" Peter asks Hound Dog, not really looking for an answer. 

"Why do I have to have Spider-Man hanging over me every second of every fucking day, man? Why me? I messed up once, and someone I loved died! And you know what? Maybe I deserve this or whatever, but still… why couldn't someone else have to BE this?"