Chapter Text
The lights went out.
Pitch-black swallowed the world so suddenly that Peter’s breath caught in his throat.
The hand on his shoulder tightened.
For one long, stretching second, the only sound in the entire ruined HR floor was his own heartbeat — pulsing loud enough to drown out every other thought.
Then the emergency lights flickered back to life.
Red flooded the room.
Peter turned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every muscle stiffened like he was moving through thick syrup.
Behind him stood a man.
Not an intern.
Not security.
Not anyone Peter recognized.
Just… a guy.
A random guy in dark clothes, dirt smeared across one cheek, hair hanging in messy tangles like he’d been running. His pupils were blown wide in the red glow, black swallowing the color of his eyes.
He was smiling.
Not a normal smile — a too-wide curve stretching across his face like the skin didn’t fit right.
Peter’s Spider-Sense didn’t just flare.
It screamed.
The man dragged his gaze downward, slow and lazy, until it landed on Peter’s chest — on the lanyard hanging there.
Peter Parker (Stark)
Clearance: 10
Access: Diamond
The stranger’s grin twisted into something uglier.
His lips parted like he was savoring the name, rolling it across his tongue.
“Peter Parker…”
Peter didn’t get the chance to breathe.
Because a sharp, cold edge pressed against his throat.
Peter’s breath hitched — the sound a broken gasp.
The man had lifted one of his knives.
A real knife.
Small. Silver. Edges jagged.
And he pressed it slowly, deliberately, against Peter’s skin.
Peter didn’t move, but a thin line of warmth trickled down his neck — blood.
The man inhaled sharply, eyes lighting up in the red glow as he watched that single drop fall.
“Ohhh…” he murmured. “Look at that…”
Peter’s stomach tightened.
His other hand moved.
Another knife. Longer. Cleaner. Held loosely, confidently, like he’d done this before — more than once. It caught the red light and gleamed like liquid fire.
The man tilted his head, still staring at the lanyard.
“This is interesting,” he said softly. “Clearance ten. Diamond access.”
He chuckled once — low and wrong.
“Looks like I got lucky today.”
Peter’s voice caught in his throat before finally forcing its way out.
“W-what do you want?”
The man leaned in closer, breath brushing Peter’s cheek, warm and sour.
“You. Obviously.”
His grin widened.
“People with badges like that? They’re valuable.”
He traced the tip of the first knife up Peter’s jawline, tilting his head to study him like a specimen in a tank.
Peter’s hands twitched — instinct screaming to shove the guy away, web him to a wall, get out, do something — but the blade was too close.
Too sharp.
The man lifted the lanyard with the tip of his knife, letting it dangle and sway.
“Peter Parker,” he whispered again, savoring it.
“Kid genius. Tony Stark’s little pet.”
His eyes glinted.
“Perfect.”
Peter swallowed hard, his pulse thundering.
Every instinct he had screamed danger — louder than ever before.
He could fight.
He could run.
He could web him.
But the knife at his throat shifted — just barely — enough to let a second drop of blood fall.
The man’s grin stretched.
“I think,” he said, voice silky and cold, “you and I are going to have a very, very interesting time together.”
Peter’s breath trembled.
The emergency lights flickered again.
Once.
Twice.
And the knives gleamed brighter each time.