beautiful world
Peter had already turned to leave when the tranquility of his surroundings was abruptly shattered by an intense, jarring ringing that reverberated through his very core, sending an electric shockwave of primal fear surging through his veins. The sharp crack of a gunshot sliced through the city noise, cutting through the mundane hum of everyday life with chilling clarity. In a heartbeat, panicked, terror-stricken screams erupted in unison, and people scattered frenetically in every direction. Yet, amid the maelstrom, Peter remained composed. His gaze sharpened to a razor's edge, and his body instinctively tensed in preparation. Adrenaline surged through him, heightening his senses as his eyes darted across the scene, zeroing in on the source of the violent disturbance.
As frantic, terrified bodies surged past, colliding into one another in their desperate, frenzied rush to escape, Peter's eyes were focused on where the sound came from. Even amidst the roar of the fleeing crowd, he felt an odd, almost magnetic pull—an insistent sensation that someone, somewhere in the swirling confusion, was urgently calling his name, imploring him to turn back. He ignored the panicked strangers who crashed into him. he pressed forward, straining against the relentless tide of bodies.
As Peter drew closer to the epicenter of the upheaval, a chilling, nauseating dread seeped into his chest. His eyes fell upon a tragically familiar figure. Ben lay sprawled on the cold pavement, blood seeping steadily from a grievous wound, pooling ominously beneath his motionless form. The ringing in Peter's ears grew sharper and more insistent it was not painful, but was an unrelenting reminder to remain vigilant, to keep his wits razor-sharp. Nearby, a plainclothes officer knelt beside Ben, frantically radioing for urgent backup, his hands moving with the practiced urgency of someone desperately attempting to staunch the relentless flow of blood.
Peter ran forward, his movements deliberate and carefully measured, making every effort not to disrupt the officer's crucial efforts. He dropped to his knees beside Ben, and their eyes met. The depth of Ben's suffering was carved deeply into his fading gaze. Ben's mouth moved, but no sound escaped them—his strength was rapidly waning. Peter's chest tightened with overwhelming sorrow, his vision blurring with unshed tears as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Uncle Ben, I'm here," Peter spoke hoarsely, his voice cracking under the unbearable weight of his grief.
The officer's hands remained steady, pressing firmly on the wound, desperately striving to keep Ben tethered to life, even as precious moments slipped away. In the distance, the faint, wailing sirens sliced through the chaotic clamor, growing louder with each passing second. Yet, despite the imminent arrival of assistance, Peter sensed that too much time had already been lost. Ben had remained still for far too long. Peter stayed at his uncle's side, clinging to him as the ambulance finally screeched to a halt. The medics rushed out, swiftly securing Ben on a stretcher, moving with exacting precision as they loaded him into the ambulance. But as Peter watched the doors slam shut, his heart sank deeper, weighed down by the crushing, suffocating fear that they were already too late.
Peter stood up and confronted the stark reality of the world around him. He could no longer escape his problems. He saw Ben's blood flowing down the street, but the people who had panicked moments before were now returning to their normal, indifferent lives. A few, oblivious to the blood, inadvertently stepped on it, spreading it further with casual indifference.
As sunset laminated the streets with orange light. the trash bags sitting in the pool of blood. the homeless man looked at the people with disgust but Peter looked at the sunset and thought what a beautiful world.
Peter pulled out his phone and dialed Gwen. Before she could utter a single word, he spoke with strained urgency: "Gwen, can you go and stay with Aunt May? I'll be there in a few hours." Peter suppresses the emotions.
Meanwhile, the robber, wounded in the lower back, was whisked away in another ambulance. Without a moment's hesitation, Peter erupted into a sprint, pursuing the ambulance with superhuman speed. Peter did not know what he was going to but he followed the robbers ambulance.