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Peter wasn’t even sure why he was panicking. He had done this so many times with May before and every time she's gone through the procedure and the information needed to be said very thoroughly. He had the cheque in his hand, clutching it too tightly in his sweaty palm as he stood only a mere three steps from the desk. It wasn’t like Peter was totally considering asking the woman behind him if she wanted to go first like the fine, young gentleman that he is (spoiler: he was).
Maybe it’s the pressure of a very adult situation but under his breath, he was mumbling numbers, names and whatever else he thought may come up like, yes, the weather is very nice today. Tad bit warm for me but perhaps that’s just the never-ending sweat that seems to be pooling all over my body. Seriously, did you know your ears could sweat because I certainly didn’t?
May had only sprung this on him this morning as well; Peter was expecting to wake up sometime after eleven, eat a bowl of stale cereal in his crappy apartment, cram in some last minute revision for his exam tomorrow and then go on patrol all evening. However, what he really got was May banging on his door just after eight with a slip of paper in one hand and a breakfast muffin in the other before promptly pushing him out the door with both. He didn’t even have time to find matching socks, Peter noted as he looked down at his plain white sock and then his Deadpool themed one.
He wasn’t even sure why he had to be there so early. To miss the queue, May had texted him after receiving an array of complaints from him. Peter had been stood in the line for nearly fifty minutes so he really doesn’t want to find out what it’s like with a ‘queue’.
Nevertheless, there he was. Alone, stood amongst lines longer than some of the buildings he’s scaled, and absolutely shitting himself. All because he had to cash a cheque.
Sure, there was a certain amount of pride he held because he was finally doing more adult tasks, he was finally able to become more independent. However, that was strongly overpowered by the fear he had. Irrational fear, most likely, but still a strong sense of anxiety that led to feeling like a knife in the gut.
If only he could do it in the Spider-Man mask. The thing is, Peter had actually considered it.
Before May shoved him out of the door that morning, he did manage to grab his backpack that contained his costume. Looks like school did teach him something other than how to be pushed into a locker with as little bruises and broken bones as possible, always remember protection. So maybe it wasn’t the protection they had intended, but still a viable lesson.
Although, Peter quickly disregarded the idea as he wasn’t sure that the bank would be all too happy with the idea of the spandex-clad superhero cashing in a cheque in the name of Peter Parker, no matter how many cats he’s saved. Also, the secret identity shebang. That’d be a toughie to explain.
His fingers itched at the strap of his backpack. Peter wanted nothing more than to pull out his red and blue suit and immediately be masked with fake confidence and courage. Man, secret identities sucked. If Steve Rogers rocked up in his full, admittedly impressive, uniform, they wouldn’t think twice (besides maybe they would because Captain America just entered their bank and oh my gosh, it’s Steve Rogers). They knew who Captain America was, with and without the cowl, so Peter couldn’t really see how it’d be a problem.
Still, Peter felt the weight of his thick-rimmed glasses on the edge of his nose and supposed they’d have to do. Sure, they didn’t exactly fill him with the audacity and boldness to speak to actual humans, but at least they were in style.
He was now one step away from the front and his nerves continued to pool in the bottom of his stomach until the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood upright.
Spider senses.
His head twitched towards the door before he knew what he was doing, taking in the long, slender figure of a man with an overwhelmingly large coat on that his shoulders hardly filled out. Peter’s mind immediately was driven to what could be hidden under there. A bomb? Guns? He really hoped it wasn’t metal wings because been there, done that and he’s even got the t-shirt. Or, more specifically, the ripped red hoodie and filthy blue joggers.
Before being able to study him further, Peter noticed another woman that had just come in the furthest entrance from him. She wore similar attire, but instead a fitted trench coat that stopped just below her knees. Peter couldn’t make out much more from this distance beside the red of her lips. However, her hands were moving into her pockets, about to pull something out of her pock—
“Next!”
Peter jumped in surprise, almost stumbling back into the woman behind him. He heard her take a sharp intake of breath in annoyance, causing Peter to make his apologies before walking towards the desk.
“How may I help you today, sir?” The man behind the desk asked, a forced, polite smile on his features. Peter couldn’t imagine a job more nerve-wracking - sitting down all day talking to people. Like, actually communicating with them. Without a mask. Just plain old Peter Parker. Knowing him, he’d have a mob of angry customers coming at him left and right because he messed up their request.
“Hi, um, yeah. So I—“
BANG!
A gunshot.
Before even realising what he was doing, he was tumbling into a man in an all too fancy suit and pulling him to the floor, narrowly avoiding a block of concrete to the head. Now, where had that come from?
Right, the woman. His dwindling sense of self-depreciation and anxiety got in the way of the fact that she was in the complete villain uniform from the long trench coat to the evil glint in her eyes. So, maybe Peter couldn’t actually see her eyes from where he was stood but he knew it was there.
He helped the man he had tumbled into to the side before crouching down and scanning for her.
However, she wasn’t where Peter had last seen her. She was on the floor, ducked behind a plant, almost cowering behind it. He then saw a silver glint in her hand. Guns don’t have Snapchat notifications on them, Peter noticed. A phone. She pulled her phone out.
Peter had turned to the booming voice before they had even started speaking, “Welcome to this morning’s show.” The thin man with the long coat on walked around the centre of the room, prodding his gun into the backs of civilians as he walked past. “I’d like to introduce you to today’s guests, you!”
A different take on a robbery, Peter thought. Kinda weird, but I’m into it.
“These are my helpers,” The man gestured to the men that conveniently emerged from the doors, all wearing the same sort of getup as him. “And I’m Happy, your host of this morning. Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s get on with the show.”
Peter quickly acknowledged the fact that this all sounded very rehearsed. Slenderman over there must’ve put a lot of effort into today. Shame Spider-Man had to ruin it.
His fingers clasped harder against his backpack strap as he looked for an empty exit or bathroom. Unfortunately for him, all were guarded until one of Slenderman’s goons walked slightly further away from the bathroom. Only slightly, but enough for Peter to slip through.
He crawled past a plant pot, ignoring the worrying and curious looks from civilians. Making his way towards the bathroom, he hid behind a marble column, narrowly avoiding one of Slendy’s goons walking past. He seriously hoped that these bafoons aren’t being paid for today, they’re doing a worse job at securing the perimeter than Peter is at interacting with other people.
When he finally reached the door, Peter carefully turned the handle, attempting to do it slowly and with ease. Hearing it open with a click , he had the door ajar. Just as Peter was about to slip through, he felt something cold and hard press to the back of his head.
“The shows just began, why are you leaving so soon?” Well, that wasn’t ideal. “Up, now.” Happy gestured with his gun upwards after knocking Peter’s bag off his shoulder with it. Slowly, he stood up. He could do the wholly innocent, scared civilian act.
Peter was walked to the entrance of the bank, the metal of the gun never felt colder. Happy opened the door, and only then did Peter realise there was a police force barricading and surrounding the bank.
“Shoot me, I shoot him,” Happy snarled, nudging the gun even further into Peter’s head. “Now, here’s what I want.”
“I don’t negotiate with criminals.” The Peter could only assume, Captain said, her gun high as she stood further in front as opposed to her uniformed officers. Glancing around, Peter could see there were about twenty guns pointed in their direction, but he could assume there were more on nearby buildings.
“Not even for life?” Slenderman’s tone was sharp, a wicked grin slashed upon his pale face. Peter knew he could handle himself, he’d be able to disarm this inexperienced imbecile within a few seconds. What he couldn’t explain, however, would be the mastered acrobatic skills and the well-practised flips. Also, the webs, Peter thought as he looked down at his web shooters that were covered by his long-sleeved sweater. He was really damning secret identities at the minute.
The Captain’s eyes narrowed at Happy. She looked conflicted but knew her duty was to protect, “What is it you want?”
With a breathy laugh, Happy flashed a roguish smile, “Get me Spider-Man.”
And boy did that get Peter’s attention.
His head whipped up towards Slenderman, only to be pistol whipped on the back of the head. His spider-senses fired off, but he was still playing scared hostage here. Avoiding a blow to the head would be a tiny bit suspicious and would only piss the criminal off. Peter could feel the blood trickle from the back of his head, probably matting his hair. Although, from the lack of pain, he could only assume it was nothing serious.
Clearly, Peter wasn’t the only one who was surprised because the Captain asked, “How the hell do you expect me to do that?”
“I don’t know,” Happy said, clearly frustrated. “Shoot him a text, shove a cat in a tree, flash a goddamn spider in the sky - I don’t care! Just get him here within the hour.” With that, he grabbed Peter from the ground and shoved the two of them inside.
Despite not actually being an anxious, defenceless civilian at the minute, he was definitely feeling the anxious part. They wanted Spider-Man but what they didn’t know is that they already had a gun pointed at him. But what for? Why did they need him? He didn’t know what he was going to do because when it turned to ten, they’re going to be wondering where the hell Spider-Man is.
What Peter didn’t realise is that the hostage situation goes by fairly quickly. He assumed with nothing to do other than feel the agonising weight of a cold gun against the back of your neck, time would drag. Apparently not. Who would’ve thought?
By the time he knew it, the clock said five to ten.
He could feel his wrists itch were his web shooters were as he stared at his backpack in the corner, where it was left by the bathroom when he was caught.
09:56
All of Slenderman’s goons looked tense, their shoulders held high and their stance defensive.
09:57
The civilians stared at Peter with nothing but fear in their eyes, knowing what was going to happen to him if the masked vigilante didn’t show.
09:58
Peter heard the gun cock behind him, Happy getting ready to shoot.
09:59
He took a deep breath in.
10:00
No one entered those front doors, not that Peter was expecting anyone to.
10:01
BANG!
There were screams of horror and gasps of fright, except for it didn’t hit Peter, it hit the concrete column in front of where the young man was once on the floor. Slenderman’s eyes widened as Peter rolled to the side, dodging the bullet. In retaliation, Happy started firing manically at Peter, who was expertly able to dodge. He was flipping, turning, twisting, all things no human with a normal reaction time should be able to do.
When Happy emptied his clip, all into the concrete column and glass wall in front of him, he fumbled with the gun to reload. But Peter, with a deep breath, pulled up his sweater’s sleeve and shot a web, yanking the gun from his hand.
Slenderman looked at the sticky white web that had pulled his weapon from him, flabbergasted. Peter watched as the gears in his head turned in realisation. His eyes narrowed before widening before narrowing again.
“You’re—“
“Yeah, yeah. Enough with the formalities.” Peter waved him off, shooting a web towards his bag and pulling it to his chest. As he unzipped it, Peter could hear Slenderman’s goons start to unfreeze, beginning to lift up their weapons.
“We have you surrounded, Spider-Man.” Looks like Happy has found his voice again. Before Peter could pull out his mask, however, shots were being fired towards him. With a jump and a twist, he was on the ceiling, webbing his bag to the wall, still costumeless.
“Really? Seven against one seems hardly fair.” Peter found himself crawling all over the ceiling, dodging clips and clips of ammunition.
“Get down here, bug,” Slendy growled as he shot at Peter, obviously having found another gun.
“You know, maybe you should cheque yourself before you do something like this,” Peter said, dropping down from the ceiling and disarming one of the goons. “I could loan you a few tips, I do cash or credit.”
“Enough.” Happy muttered, Peter clearly getting to him. “He’s just a kid, shoot him!”
“What is it with criminals saying ‘enough’?” Peter asked, kicking one in the face before sliding underneath him and knocking into his back, making him drop to the floor. Peter webbed him up before continuing, “It’s not like I’m immediately going to stop, like ‘oh no, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?’.”
When Peter got no response, he continued to disarm the goons, throwing their gun into the air and webbing them to the ceiling, out of reach. Although, somehow, more guns kept appearing.
“You know, Happy, you guys remind me of the seven dwarfs.” He commented, landing his fist onto a criminal’s jaw. “Now, which one of you is Grumpy?” The criminal, after staggering back, charged towards Peter with a grunt. His fist was raised and was about to connect it to Peter’s cheek until Peter jumped over him and kicked him to the ground. “I see, you must be Grumpy.”
After webbing Grumpy to the ground, another man came up to him, shooting wildly at Peter. Even without his spider senses, Peter wouldn’t have gotten hit - this criminal was a terrible shot.
“And here we have Dopey.” Peter strolled over to him calmly as Dopey emptied his clip on everywhere but Peter. With a patronising smile, Peter front flipped in the air, landing a kick to his jaw, knocking him out. Peter heard a civilian cheer in the back, making him chuckle.
“What is wrong with you?” Happy snarled, reloading his newly found machine gun. No seriously, where did he get that from? Peter continued to beat down two incoming goons, both exclusively renamed Bashfully and Sneezy, until he turned back to Happy.
“That’s ironic coming from the man holding civilians hostage because he wanted a superhero to show.” Peter shrugged after finishing webbing Sneezy. “Why did you want me, anyway? Gotta say I think shooting up a bank is a bit extreme for an autograph and maybe a selfie.”
“Because, Spider-Boy,” He began, pointing his gun at Peter.
“It’s Spider-Man,” Peter interjected.
“Not with that baby face, you’re not.” Happy’s face screwed up in distaste, looking Peter up and down.
And Peter froze.
That was when it hit him. His mask. Peter lifted his hand up to touch his face, feeling only the cool skin of his cheek. It made him feel slightly smaller, slightly too much like Peter Parker. The lack of mask on his face suddenly started feeling like a pressure he didn’t like.
He’s been careless before, Peter knows that. He’s gone out swinging without the mask or he’s saved a life in the darkness of a backstreet alley as Peter Parker, but he’s never suffered the repercussions. It’s never gotten out that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. However, the feeling of people knowing now, as he stood in the middle of a bank, cameras on him and his face clear as day, was paralysing.
So that’s what he did. He froze, and he swore it was only for the briefest of moments but it felt like an eternity because it was just long enough that there were two quick bangs that were swiftly followed by a blazing pain going up through Peter’s leg and another in his abdomen. He looked down and saw a pool of red seeping through the blue of his jeans and wait , when did he fall to the ground?
When Peter finally caught himself, he looked up from his leg to see Happy in front of him, but instead of seeing the criminal, he was met with a harsh blow to the face.
Peter should probably be thinking about how to get himself out of the situation and how to quickly put this guy down. He’s a simple criminal, nothing like Electro or, god forbid the Vulture. Just an ordinary crook.
Instead, however, Peter was thinking about how pathetic Spider-Man must look. Weak, battered and fallen to the floor because of a man and his gun. This is New York’s hero, this is their hero .
Puny Parker is what Flash used to call him. Peter vaguely wondered what he’d think if he saw him now because he’s never felt like he’s lived up to that nickname as much as he did right now. An easy goddamn crook, and what’s different?
In his peripheral vision, he sees his bag stuck to the wall with his suit in. His mask, his suit, his security blanket. A silly piece of red and blue spandex couldn’t make that much of a difference, could it?
If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it , rang through his brain.
Peter could feel the blood start dripping from his cheek and the wound from the back of his head reopened - which had already mended itself thanks to advanced healing. The metallic taste burnt his tongue as he felt the trickle down onto his lips and into his mouth.
There was this new found strength burning in Peter’s stomach. Tony would have wanted better, and so did he. He did find it weird how a single man’s words could inspire him in such a vast way, but that was Tony Stark for you. That man had a larger influence on people in his right foot than most men had in their whole body.
His legs got stronger as he felt himself lift up from the ground, ignoring the agony from the bullets in his leg and stomach. Peter was going to fight him, without the suit, and he was going to win. Fastening the web shooters on his wrist, he pointed them towards Happy and—
“Hiya, guys!” An out of breath voice introduced himself. Peter whipped his head around and saw... himself. Stood by the back entrance to the bank was Spider-Man. Only it wasn’t himself, because he was kneeling on the floor with blood gushing from him. “Sorry I’m late - only fashionably, of course. And by fashionably, I mean the taco truck that I normally go to had a ridiculously long line and then I heard I was needed here. So I ran and ate, but then I spilt ranch on my pants that looked like I was doing something over the rating of this fanfiction, which I know the readers would’ve loved to see, you sick fucks. So I had to wipe that because my Spider-Butt preaches a certain innocence to the children that only a nun could reach.”
By the end of that, ‘Spider-Man’ was bending over with his hands on his knees and heaving. Peter’s jaw had hit the ground with every word this phoney was spilling. Even Slenderman over there had the decency to looked shocked.
“But I’m here now!” ‘Spider-Man’ finished with jazz hands. He even gave a little bow at the end.
“I thought—“ Slenderman started, only to be interjected by ‘Spider-Man’.
“You thought what? That Spider-Man had better things to do than protect the innocent?” He then looked directly at Peter. “Hi, cutie.” Then, he winked. He goddamn winked. Whoever hired this man Peter desperately needed to know. “I can tell you now, he- I do not. Nothing means more to me than the incy lives of today’s society.”
Peter wanted to facepalm. Not even this amount of pain could ever surpass the pain he felt watching this. How could anyone see that this wasn’t him? Spider-Man doesn’t swear, for one. This guy was much taller than him, had a deeper voice, his shoulders were wider and he was much more muscular than Peter, much more. He wasn’t staring, no.
“Now, if you would kindly step away from the young gentleman,” another wink. “because I would hate for anything to happen to him that would make me want to unalive you this beautiful morning.”
Unalive . Wade “Deadpool” Wilson. Peter started to think that a bullet to the head doesn’t sound too bad in comparison to watching this play out.
“But you’re...” Happy trailed off, looking at Peter in bewilderment.
“He’s gorgeous, I know. As if I haven’t made that apparent enough already.” Wade giggled before wiggling his fingers into a flirtatious wave towards Peter. He then turned his head to the side, “No, we can’t just jump him. Dinner first.” Turning back to Peter, he said, “Blood’s a good look on you, baby, but I bet it’d look even better on my bedroom walls.”
“That sounds like you’re going to murder me.” Peter found himself coughing out. He couldn’t believe this, Wade Wilson pretending to be Spider-Man. What has this world come to?
“Only if you’re into that kinda foreplay, darling.”
“Quit it!” Happy’s voice boomed. He then turned his gun onto Wade, “Against the wall, now!”
“What you going to do, spank me?” Wade hummed a joyous laugh before complying.
“On your knees!”
“Only for you, baby.”
“Spread ‘em!”
“I think the author is going to have to bump this up to an E rating.”
“Hands against the wall!”
“Oh, but of course, dad—“
BANG !
Then, there was a bullet in the back of Wade’s head.
Peter couldn’t help the involuntary gasp that escaped his lips. He heard the civilians around him do the same, only he was aware of Wade’s regenerative powers. Still, it didn’t lessen the shock any further.
A vicious grin spread across Happy’s face and for a few moments, everything was still.
“So,” Peter coughed out. “That’s what you wanted to do to Spider-Man.”
Happy’s face snapped around back to Peter, his face twisted in aggravation. He started wildly pointing to the webs on the walls, ceiling and floor, before pointing to Wade’s, admittedly poor quality, Spider-Man corpse on the floor. He then turned back to Peter with a hard stare before narrowing his eyebrows and saying, “What kind of idiot do you take me for?”
Peter knelt there, still and didn’t say anything. He waited for Happy’s next move.
“A man with a little too much to say and a store-bought Spider-Man costume isn’t enough to convince me after what I just saw you do.” Peter still sat there and used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe the blood from his face. He glanced over at Wade, who looked like he was slowly regenerating.
There goes Peter’s smallest chance of people not knowing his identity. Not that he thought whatever Deadpool tried would work.
Happy then walked in front of Peter and used his gun to lift his face up to look at him. “You wanna know why I did it? Why I made today happen?”
“You played Payday once too many times?”
Ignoring Peter, he continued, “I’m a construction worker. I work and I work and I clean up after you vigilantes .” He said the word like it burnt the tip of his tongue. “One day, you decided to come a little too close to one of our sites in Queens.”
Peter warily stared up at Happy, knowing where this was starting to go.
“The man you were up against, a new guy in the Vulture suit, was tearing into the scaffolding. He knocked down such a great mass of concrete onto our workers.” Happy’s eyes were a tornado of emotions: fury, loss, grievance. “But you, The Amazing Spider-Man , managed to hold it up and get everyone out.”
The atmosphere was heavy. Everyone was waiting for the pin to drop, waiting to hear the tragedy this man faced.
His mind raced as he struggled to remember.
“Except for one man.”
Peter’s heart was beating so fast he could hear it in his throat and pumping into his ears. He chewed his lip nervously as he began to recall the fight.
No, he got everyone out. He made sure of it.
He remembered the webs he had strung across parts of the ceiling that hasn’t fallen; he remembered the burning sensation in his muscles as he lifted pounds of concrete from workers broken limbs; he remembered the smell of wet cement and dry powder.
There was no one else there.
“The man who was two months away from becoming my husband.”
There was nothing but ragged breathing and the slimy sound of Wade’s skin pulling itself together.
“I’m sor—“
“Don’t you dare!” Happy roared, his shoulders rising as he lifted the gun and pointed it at Peter’s head. “I didn’t come here for that. I don’t need that .” There were hot tears now furiously flowing down Happy’s face. The rims of his eyes were red, highlighting the iciness of his glare.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said slowly, as he carefully leaned out of his crouched position into a stance. He reached his hands out slowly as if trying to calm him down. Peter was uncomfortably aware of the bullet holes in his body but knew with a day or so his advanced healing would take care of that.
“What did I say?” His voice boomed, but there was no real heat behind it.
He was starting to crumble, Peter noticed. Was he ever here really for a fight, or was all of this fuelled by anger?
“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated, watching as Happy’s stance became less defensive. The grip on his gun lessened and his shoulders started to slump, only slightly shaking as he tried to blink away his tears.
“Stop it.” Happy’s voice started to plead, almost pathetic sounding. Peter hated this, hated what the world had taken from him. The man in front of him was lashing out, shoving all of his grievings into anger and resentment. He could almost relate to him as Peter thought about Thanos. However, he still needed to stop him. He was reminded of that as he could see Wade’s nearly healed body slumped against the wall, his blood painting it in vivid reds.
“I’m sorry.” With that, Peter shot a web at his gun and pulled it towards Peter, ignoring the burning in his body from the gunshots. He then webbed the weapon to the ceiling, ignoring the pained shouts of the criminal stood in front of him.
His spider senses spiked as he narrowly avoided a punch to the gut, but when Peter turned around, he saw Happy stumble forward from not landing the punch.
This right there was the face of a man who had given up.
Happy’s eyes stared down at the floor, blank as ever. His hands were pressed numbly against the cold ground and his shoulders held no tension, just slumped awkwardly as he sat there. The tears had stopped flowing, only leaving tear stained marks against his flushed cheeks.
For what had seemed like the millionth time today, the room had fallen silent.
Peter inched his way towards the fallen man, not wanting to trigger any more unexpected emotions from him. With his hand, he slowly reached out and gripped Happy’s shoulder before webbing him to the ground from the waist downwards.
He didn’t even try to struggle.
“I’m sorry—“
“Oh my gosh, baby boy!” A sudden voice yelled, making Peter freeze. “You’re the pretty hostage! Of course, you are. I mean, with an ass like yours, I should’ve known. But seriously, how didn’t I recognise it? Maybe I just need to feel you, check it’s you.” As Peter turns around to face Wade, he finds that Wade’s already in front of him, making grabby hands towards him and without the cheap Spider-Man mask.
“You most certainly do not, Wade,” Peter stated, trying hard to not let the grin that’s desperately trying to break out on his face happen. He then looked towards the glass doors, seeing how the police force was staring in with some shocked and some unreadable expressions. With his hands, he gestured for them to come in.
“Excuse you, gorgeous. I was having a conversation here.” Wade then gestured to Peter’s behind. “Now, where were we? Ah, right, so how about a feel?”
Peter turned around towards the doors, so his back was towards Wade and so he couldn’t see the ear-to-ear grin that was split across Peter’s face. “Goodbye, Wade.” He then began to stride his way towards the officers that had just come in, noting how the bullet holes were hardly giving him any pain.
“Wait, we haven’t been properly introduced, Webs! It’s Deadpool, Wade Wilson if ya nasty.” Wade’s voice called, but Peter still continued forwards. “I hate you to see you go, but I love to watch you leave!” That made Peter roll his eyes fondly.
When he made his way towards the Captain, Peter said, “I finished them off. The webbing should hold them for another few hours or so, so you may wanna start moving.” The Captain nodded slightly, as if not entirely sure how to react.
“And, uh, who are you, exactly? I mean, what do we tell the press?” The Captain asked warily.
Peter turned around slightly, checking if Wade was still listening. He was.
With a deep breath, he said, “Tell them it was Spider-Man, Peter Parker if you’re nasty.”
Peter wasn’t ashamed to admit he laughed at the high pitched, girlish scream that came from behind him.