Well, hello there, folks! So, like... in a massive, massive surprise to anyone ever, I wrote a story... that doesn't have King in it. (No, this isn't the apocalypse. At least, I don't think it is...)

Anyway, this is a super short snippet that originally went up on my barren wasteland of a tumblr but demanded more love. So here it is. Hope you enjoy. Also, massive, massive spoilers for Infinity War, so if you care about that stuff you should absolutely skip this.

Onward!

"Mr. Stark…? I don't feel so good…"

There were audible gasps all around the crowded theater as Peter Parker stumbled. His body slowly turned to ash as he held onto his mentor, Tony Stark, while pleading for his life.

The moviegoers were stunned: some took deep, steadying breaths; others sat with their fists clenched, horrified, as Peter uttered his final words and disappeared. Someone near the middle of the room let out a loud sniffle as a teenager up front huddled close to her friends, full-on Ugly Crying.

In the very back of the auditorium, the woman called Vice held her breath, her eyes locked on the screen. She was keenly aware of the people reacting all around her: their disbelief was palpable… and it was disgusting.

Humans were weak, stupid creatures, as evidenced by their overreactions to a simple film. They were far too invested in the lives of these fictional superheroes. But Vice wasn't like them; no, she was something else entirely: she was superior to them in every way. Annoyed, she listened to the stunned, "What"s and "No way"s issuing from the crowd and willed them all to shut up, not because of how utterly pathetic they were, but because she wanted to hear the damn movie.

However, there was something else she was feeling. It was foreign, but not completely unknown to her. She scowled as a pit began to form in her stomach.

The final scenes played, and the lights in the room slowly popped on, but no one in the crowd moved. Vice glimpsed at the woman next to her, who looked bored out of her mind, and then at the red-headed man next to her, who was squinting straight ahead, apparently baffled by what he had just witnessed.

None of them said a single word to each other.

Vice turned her attention back to the large screen as the movie's post-credits scene played out. As soon as it was over she stood up, oddly excited, but somehow drained.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said as she hastily turned on her heel. She didn't bother to wait for a response from her companions: they were big kids – they could see themselves out. She pushed through the throngs of people and made a beeline for the restroom. As soon as she got in there she entered the cleanest stall she could find… and started bawling her eyes out because Peter Parker was dead.

Vice cried and cried as she recalled her favourite hero's final words: "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, she was sorry. She was sorry for scoffing at the people around her because she, too, felt the undeniable heaviness of the horror she had just witnessed. Her favourites were dead. Everyone was dead, and, although she wasn't entirely certain of why she was having such a visceral reaction to the film, she couldn't stop her mad sobbing.

At least she wasn't alone; she could hear other women and girls in the area, all lamenting the outcome of The Snap.

Vice buried her face in her hands, overcome with emotion. Without warning, the door to her stall flew open with a loud bang. Outside stood Mature, who looked at her with an expression of sheer annoyance.

"Bitch, stop crying!"

Notes?

In case you're unaware, Vice is - canonically - a huge comic book nerd.

That's it. Let me know your thoughts and feels!