Chapter Text
Consciousness nips at him, its fangs latching on, wrestling him from a fitful slumber. In the purgatory of half-awake and half-asleep stimuli seeps into his brain, leaving him to chase the meaning of murmuring words and a shrill wail.
If sleeping felt like tumbling through a sea of nightmares, waking feels like swimming to the surface without ever getting there, a breath of clarity never arriving. Apparitions of mercenaries and metal men had plagued his sleep. Peter half expects to see them when he forces open his eyes, instead, he sees a makeshift med bay. Faded wallpaper peels away at the corners of the room. A clunky machine squeals next to his cot, dust envelopes the ancient tech tickling the back of his throat. Adjacent to it a pole feeds a clear substance into his bloodstream.
In its dull body, Peter sees his reflection, tuffs of hair stick out wildly and vivid bruises have blossomed on his pasty skin like it was the start of spring. With a jolt of panic, he takes note of his lack of costume. His blue and red spandex has been exchanged for a grey shirt, a few sizes too big. The knowledge other heroes know his identity doesn’t hit him like a punch instead it creeps up on him, twisting his stomach into a wad of knots like an old pair of earphones.
Frantically he tries to rise, but his body jolts to a stop by the handcuffs linking him to the bed. Yanking hard the metal squeals as it’s moulded out of shape, the skin below turning a striking shade of crimson. With a ping the left handcuff snaps screws sailing into the air before hitting the floor, cruising till they strike the heavy boot of the man opening the door. Glancing up Peter's struggles falter as they lock eyes.
‘’We’ve been trying to locate you for a while Spiderman.’’
-----------
The home of the Fantastic Four was as much of a staple in the fabric of New York as the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty. Amongst the many times the tower had been destroyed, either by a science experiment going wrong or Galactus razing it to the ground, the bird’s eye view of the city had felt uncanny, like a jig saw missing a piece. Although, Stark muses, his tower is taller.
Right now the building stands tall, (describe tower) At any given moment a gathering of people and paparazzi could be found camping outside the skyscraper. Today is no exception, when Stark’s limo rolls to a stop before the building, at ten O’clock on the dot, a group of fans has already formed, all turning in unison as he steps out vehicle.
Shaded Stark tech glasses are perched on his nose, their lenses covering the bags hanging below tired eyes. His beard, previously ragged and wild, has been cut down in its prime leaving neat a goatee in its place. Dissecting everyone’s digital footprint from their social media feed to police reports J.A.R.V.I.S projects the data onto the left lens. Since the Stamford catastrophe, Tony liked to know who he was around. The news didn’t need another story about a hero causing a bomb and Stark didn’t need another suit ruined by a straying cup of Starbucks coffee. Figures of potential interest are highlighted, near to him a male’s silhouette is illuminated blue.
NAME: CHARLES BECKHAM. STATUS : (CONFIRMED) HUMAN. BORN: 1967. OCCUPATION: UNEMPLOYED. RECORD: FRAUD
Not likely to be someone tempted to bomb a building. Beyond him, an orange hue can be seen, hidden amongst the crowd. Maybe they’re trying to be a needle in a haystack. A small tap on his watch links the Stark tech to the feed from the nearby traffic camera. The information materialises instantly.
NAME: KAREN PAIGE. STATUS : (CONFIRMED) HUMAN. BORN 1989. OCCUPATION: REPORTER.
The crowd surges forward as he walks to the door, most, fortunately kept back by an invisible line. Breezing past them Stark keeps his eyes on the front door. His pace quickens when the orange tint trails after him. Nearing the door a blip of white flickers to his right. His watch beeps, twice rapidly, when his heartbeat picks up.
NAME: UNKNOWN. STATUS: UNKNOWN. BORN: UNKNOWN. OCCUPATION: UNKNOWN.
His step faltering and attention diverted is the only invitation Karen Paige needs to step out in front of him, blocking his entrance, ‘’Mr Stark.’’ Her boldness only dissuades the others, who huddle together in a collective bid to keep their anonymity, abetting the white blur in their escape.
‘’Karen, I didn’t notice you in the crowd.’’ Tony is still scanning the crowd for the monochromatic movement as he asks, ‘’What can I do for you?’’
‘’I was hoping for a comment from you on the rapid progress of the Superhuman Registration Act in the chambers of Congress.”
Tony pauses as the words settle in. ‘’You want a quote from me. How exactly did you know I was going to be here?’’
‘’I have my sources,’’ Karen replies, the pen and pad she’s clutching seem to have materialized out of thin air. Glancing at the page Tony only sneaks a glance at an unintelligible scrawl before she raises it to her chest protectively. The nails on her hand have been bitten to the stumps.
‘’Right. Well at Stark Industries we’re proud to be working with the Future Foundation to work on a solution to the growing epidemic of Superhuman crime.’’ That was a jotted-down line meant for the conference that afternoon.
‘’Some members of the public have expressed their concerns on the legality of the Act. Many have even called the Supreme Court to strike down the legislation due to, what they believe, is a conflict between the Act and the Rights the Constitution upholds. What would you like to say in response to these concerns?’’ The pen is back out whilst her eyes are locked on him. Her brows dip when his gaze flicks back towards the crowd. Whoever the white figure was they’ve melted into the crowd.
‘’I’d ask them to look at the current rates of Superhuman crime. In the thirteen days since the Act passed the rates have dropped forty-eight percent. If this decline continues Canada is going look like a crime haven in comparison.’’
‘’Funny you should mention Canada. Many heroes are crossing the border in hopes of finding a more old-school career there. Why do you think this act has caused such a divide in the caped community?’’ Tony’s mind takes a metaphorical step back, taking in all the pieces. Puzzling over the chances of an unknown intruder and a noisy reporter tracking him down at the same time.
‘’I can’t speak for any other heroes but at Stark Tech, we look to the future not the past. In fact, we’re very excited to reveal the details of the Initiative Program. There’s a conference on Monday discussing it. ’’
The orange glow had faded moments after they had come face to face. Karen Paige was a slight young woman and huddled in her beige coat in the street, her hair damp from the morning dew, she looked as harmless as what Reed would call a ‘Dionaea muscipula.’ a sweet, sage green plant Sue keeps in their conservatory. ‘’How does Project Thirty-Three play into this future you’re envisioning?’’
Karen Paige looked like a Dionaea muscipula, right until he flew into her trap and she reminded him of her real name. With a sinking feeling, Tony has finally zeroed in on the recorder fastened onto her scarf. His throat is desert dry when he says, ‘’Project Thirty-Three is classified information.’’
‘’Like I said I have my sources.’’
‘’Why don’t you come inside Miss Paige and we can have a private chat.’’
‘’Is that what you said to Miss Floyd.’’ Sally Floyd another public nuisance not letting him do his job. Another causality of the war that Miss Page shouldn’t know about.
When Tony grasps her arm she doesn’t pull back. ‘’Miss Floyd is under suspicion of illegally aiding a fugitive.’’
‘’I think we both know that isn’t true Mr. Stark.’’ A Dionaea muscipula, more commonly known as the Venus fly trap.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Peter gapes as the man in the doorway strides in, a 95-pound embodiment of American pride. Even with the suit traded for jeans and a T-Shirt, he screams hero. Whilst chemically induced muscle had been formed by the serum, years of training had morphed him into a living weapon, even now his body is poised for action, his eyes trained on Peter. Like he was approaching a feral animal, uncertain if it would cower or lunge.
“You’ve been trying to find me? I mean of course you have. I’ve not been avoiding finding you. Also, as well. Too.” Peter winces.
Captain America looks more intimidating up close, a hulking mountain of a man, still towering over Peter even sitting beside him like he is now. ‘’How’re you feeling right now, Peter?’’
‘’Just a little woozy.’’ So woozy, like the floor has faded away leaving him in freefall, both from the pain and the fact Captain America just used his first name. ‘’Was Deadpool really sent to find me?’’
‘’I doubt it. Deadpool is a deranged nutcase, Tony wouldn’t risk the media latching onto the story and running with it. Deadpool likely took it upon himself to find you.’’ The Captain leans forward, one meaty hand resting on Peter’s shoulder. ‘’I know don’t want your identity out there. So please let me assure you. Myself, Daredevil and our nurse are the only ones who know it. And the information won’t go any further unless you want it to.’’
‘’So am I being invited to the secret superhero club? Do we at least have a password? Maybe a secret handshake.’’ Jokes. It’s probably the worst time for jokes but right now that’s all Peter has.
‘’We’re a group of heroes that are opposing the Sokovia Accords.’’ The Captain had risen again, now he was pacing like a caged animal. Occasionally pinning down Peter with a look he can’t decipher.
The name rings a bell, Peter half recalls the place from his geography class. A European country, rain falls all year round. Peter has a faint memory of Doombots pouring across its borders when he was young, so it’s adjacent to Latvia. ‘’The Sokovia Accords?’’
‘’This issue has grown past the American border. Right now Israel and the UK have sent, Micromax and Sabra, to support S.H.I.E.L.D. In return, America will support both countries in creating their own Registration Act. The Sokovia Accords refers to the world's collection of anti-superhuman laws. Its name references Sokovia’s original registration law that came into effect over a decade ago.’’ Captain America ‘’Did you hear what happened to Bill Foster?’’
Bill Foster, BioChemist, Peter has a poster of him on his wall from fifth grade. ‘’I haven’t.’’
‘’Bill Foster, you’ll know him as Goliath. He opposed the Act and he was killed today by a Thor clone created by Tony Stark and Reed Richards. An accident of course. But still, an accident created by men who are going too far. We’ve joined forces because this isn’t a battle any one of us can win on our own.’’
‘’I’m sorry- I didn’t know.’’
‘’It’s not reached the news yet. It’ll be all over the papers tomorrow. Why do you do it, Son? Why did you create Spider-Man?’’
‘’When I got these gifts I didn't use them for good. I thought I could use them to be the guy that wins for once. And because of that people got hurt. Over the years I've learnt when you can do the things I can but you don’t. When the bad things happen, they happen because of you.’’
‘’You’re young. And right now you’re not in the best shape and you have a lot to lose. Maybe more than the rest of us do. None of us are going to blame you if you want to sit this fight out. Tony doesn’t know who you are you could hang up the mask and move on.’’
‘’Not a chance, Cap- Captain America Sir. I took up this mask to help people. I’m not going to let the Act mess that up. People still need help.’’
‘’Why don’t we meet the rest of the team?’’