[ Even through the pain and his own intense concentration, when Ben sees a tentacle wrap all the way around Peter's middle, he feels like his heart stops. ]
No!
[ The sound is torn out of him, involuntary and terrified and awful. If he doesn't act quickly, Peter is going to die, and it will be bloody, and it will be all Ben's fault. Five of the grappling tentacles let go, redirecting to shoot out and attack the tentacle that has gotten hold of Peter. Their combined force twisting around its base is enough to sever it, with a truly horrible and rather squelchy sound. In the process, two of those tentacles get torn and mangled rather badly. But none of the attacks, Peter may notice, are going for the real Ben himself.
Hopefully he acted quickly enough to spare Peter too many internal injuries, and gave him long enough to force that containment unit closed with at least some chunk of their attacker inside it. Ben isn't looking too steady on his feet, other there. Part of that is exertion from the fight, part of it terror over Peter, part shock at this whole situation. He used to have more stamina than this. Then again, he'd never fought himself. Or this awful reflection of himself.
And this other version of him isn't just hollow. It is, awfully, it appears, enjoying itself. Ben hears his own laugh coming from it, thinks he catches a shifting expression of delight on that strange dark face. That's the cherry on top of all the other awfulness. This glimpse of a version of himself that likes it. That doesn't control the creatures, but lets them control him. That shares their bloodlust. Ben chokes on a sob, knees starting to shake visibly from emotion and exhaustion, but hanging on a little longer. ]
wiggly throw down... incredible...
No!
[ The sound is torn out of him, involuntary and terrified and awful. If he doesn't act quickly, Peter is going to die, and it will be bloody, and it will be all Ben's fault. Five of the grappling tentacles let go, redirecting to shoot out and attack the tentacle that has gotten hold of Peter. Their combined force twisting around its base is enough to sever it, with a truly horrible and rather squelchy sound. In the process, two of those tentacles get torn and mangled rather badly. But none of the attacks, Peter may notice, are going for the real Ben himself.
Hopefully he acted quickly enough to spare Peter too many internal injuries, and gave him long enough to force that containment unit closed with at least some chunk of their attacker inside it. Ben isn't looking too steady on his feet, other there. Part of that is exertion from the fight, part of it terror over Peter, part shock at this whole situation. He used to have more stamina than this. Then again, he'd never fought himself. Or this awful reflection of himself.
And this other version of him isn't just hollow. It is, awfully, it appears, enjoying itself. Ben hears his own laugh coming from it, thinks he catches a shifting expression of delight on that strange dark face. That's the cherry on top of all the other awfulness. This glimpse of a version of himself that likes it. That doesn't control the creatures, but lets them control him. That shares their bloodlust. Ben chokes on a sob, knees starting to shake visibly from emotion and exhaustion, but hanging on a little longer. ]