Chapter Text
Peter Parker sat up in bed, mind too muddled to go back to sleep. He'd woken from yet another nightmare. It was the same one that played in his head every night; the one that sent shivers all along his spine and all the way to his toes.
Aunt May was always there. She'd be at home making dinner as usual. And every time, Peter suspected that the atmosphere felt off, that his Spidey Sense should be going off at any moment.
But it never would.
By the time he was situated, felt the most open- because his aunt was the one person he felt safest around- that was when the world crashed down around him.
It didn't go out with a bang or a sudden flash of light like all the movies predicted, but with a single cry of his name. It would ring for what seemed like hours, torment him to the very core.
And that was when he woke up. Crying as per usual. He'd be red in the face and drenched in possibly sweat or even the copious amounts of tears flooding through him.
He never knew what the source of the salty water was that covered him each night, but he did know how gut wrenchingly horrific his mind had to be to repeat such an image. Every night. Every time he closed his eyes.
Peter glanced over at the digital clock silently ticking on his bedside table. Its obnoxiously unique Spiderman theme song announcing it had just turned 3:00 am. He knew he'd never get back to sleep. It was like this every night for the past week. Waking up in the middle of the night after the constant nightmares and unable to get back to bed afterwards.
As silently as he could, he pulled himself up and out of bed, not before having to tussle with the blankets wrapped tightly around him first, though.
He was currently sleeping on the eleventh floor of Stark tower and the main living area was right below him. Stark and a few of the other Avengers mentioned having preferred the tower more than their facility. Considering the Avengers facility was located in the more urban area of New York, most of them would rather stay close to the bustling city. Though, one issue was keeping away from the media, news reporters, fans and cosplayers that were more than likely to recognize them if they went out with no disguises.
Though Peter speculated it had more to do with him than anything. Since his aunt's death, he couldn't find it in himself to get further from where she was buried than he had to. No matter how morbid it sounded, he couldn't bring himself to leave both his aunt and uncle six feet under without visiting them where they lay. Not only would the facility's location hinder his visits to their graves, but it would be difficult keeping up as Spiderman. What was he supposed to swing on in order to make it back to Manhattan? Trees? He'd rather be as close as possible to the people of New York for their sake more than his own. He still had a job to do no matter how many times the Avengers willed him to take a break.
With his hightened agility and the fact that no one else could possibly be awake, it'd be a much simpler task to exit the building without an Avenger waiting to stop him.
He'd been restricted from late night patrol and therefore abided by a curfew no later than 12:00. Only if they were still awake however.
With the tower being silent as Death- Deadpool had mentioned it being just as quiet before- he took the opportunity and climbed out his window. F.R.I.D.A.Y. thankfully had nothing to say.
The night was cold, a remnant of the day's passing rain still sitting on the breeze. If Peter were to say his Spiderman costume- the one he'd put on just as he climbed out of bed- wasn't warm, he'd be lying. Mr. Stark was sure to fix that. On top of a hundred other things.
576 web-shooter combinations, automatic thermal heating and cooling, straightforward communication to F.R.I.D.A.Y., and a few other things that not even Peter was entirely sure about. He was sure that Tony cared for him immensely after upgrading his suit so much. Not that the engineer would ever admit it.
It was nice out, for once. The city lights glittered in a calming sort of way. Considering it was the middle of the night, New York was, for once, relatively quiet.
Peter was glad for the silence. If there weren't any crimes he'd have to put an end to, then great. He really wasn't up to fist fighting anyone in the dead of night. He was more than exhausted and after a few swings around the city, he planned to head back to the tower and get what little sleep he could.
He couldn't help the urge to swing around the city with only the sounds of distant cars and glittering lights flashing through his vision. The city was absolutely gorgeous and he promised to take advantage of it for just this night.
He'd only taken a moment to think atop a nearby building before he was off. His muscles taught beneath his suit as he heaved himself from rooftop to rooftop, the breeze making him lighter than he'd ever felt.
He wasn't sure how far he was from STARK tower, but couldn't care less. It was the happiest he'd been in a long time.
"Whoo! I love you New York!" He finished, grinning from ear to ear.
Nothing could put a damper on his spirit at the moment. Well, there were a few things, but he wouldn't think about them. There were a few things he'd learned while living with the Avengers.
One, remembering at least 200 of the combinations of his web shooters. Two, not to hide Clint's bow. And three, "take each moment in stride". He'd learned that from Steve who was still several years behind in the times and had no clue how to use a computer yet.
Take a deep breath and forget everything else. Whatever was causing negative emotions, he needed to do something that would distract it from resurfacing. Swinging around New York on Spider webs was one of Peter's best distractions.
It had taken Steve years to perfect...well, somewhat perfect. Peter didn't have years before he was somewhat sane again. His only option was this, going out in the middle of the night everytime his brain played 'duck, duck, goose' and doing what a spider does. Climbing walls, spinning webs, and punching bad guys.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped by a construction sight that gave him a view of the city from above. Up high and far from sound.
"FRIDAY?"
"Yes, Peter?" The AI responded.
"No one in the tower's realized I've gone have they?"
"No, they have not. Would you like me to inform them of where you are if they do?"
Peter thought a moment, his breath finally evening out around the calm atmosphere.
"Nah, it's fine. I'll be back in a few."
There was the silence again. The nice and quiet he so desperately needed. Sometimes it was too loud in both his mind and the tower where it seemed everyone was worried about him.
It had only been a week since Aunt May passed. The Avengers shared their concern when Peter refused to talk to anyone about the incident. He told them he'd talk in his own time. Maybe one day, just not now. He hadn't broken down yet, hadn't shed a tear except for the nightmares, and he planned on keeping it that way.
"Stay strong, Peter," He told himself.
He had to.
He would head back in a bit. As soon as the small hand on his Iron man watch turned to the 6. He quickly tucked it away under his suit sleeve.
There was a chill suddenly, nothing to do with the wind, but the constant nagging of the Spidey sense he had somehow been able to ignore. It grew louder than was necessary and he immediately jumped to his feet- keeping himself balanced atop the metal cranes.
Then there was a voice. A single laugh, echoing and bouncing along the silent buildings of New York city.
He waited once more as the laughter died down. Turns out he still wasn't high enough for his enhanced abilities not to pick up on the sounds in the alley below.
"Great." He muttered to himself. "Apparently every criminal in New York has a calendar that let's them know when the most inconvenient time for me is. Which is about now." He scratched his chin, taking a moment to think. "And about any other day too, actually. Oh well."
He scaled down the side of the crane and back down to the building several feet below, talking to himself the entire way.
"I guess they don't call me their friendly neighborhood Spiderman for nothing."
From where he was and what he could see, four men were standing around another. The fifth man was small, cowering with his back against the wall and mumbling insignificant nothings. He was being held at gunpoint. All four holding the same Beretta m9 pistol.
Spiderman whistled softly. The guy must be in for some big cash if that was their response. He'd have to wait for their guard to be put down, one kept looking around as if expecting something to leap out at them. Pretty ironic.
The same voice from earlier started speaking again, he was the largest and probably the one to give the most trouble of the group.
"You need to give us what we asked for, pal. It'll get ugly if you don't."
"Okay." Peter knew if he didn't intervene soon, there was going to be a mess to clean up when everything was over. And in all honesty, he didn't really care in the least bit what their reasons for going after the guy were. He jumped down from the building, landing heavily beside the men in the alley.
"Hey!"
Getting their attention, they turned to face him looking in the least bit happy to see the red and blue clad hero. None spoke, so Spiderman accepted it as his cue to continue.
"I don't know what's going on here, but you goons have no business with that man." He pointed at the one still cowering against the bricked wall. "Either way, come on. Have at me. I'm curious to see how an arachnid will do against a couple bird brains."
The alley gushed with light from a passing car. From that, Peter didn't see defeat running along their faces, but what looked to be uncontrolled rage in each. They glared at him menacingly. Not like he hadn't seen it before, but something felt different.
Of the four, a taller, lankier version of the rest, brown hair cut short, smirked. "The spider finally appears."
"In the flesh, toothpick."
Nicknames, start giving nicknames.
Toothpick frowned immediately, his gaze turning to the others around him as if asking an unheard question.
The largest of the group nodded once and flicked his eyes to stare at the vigilante, all the while keeping the gun still cocked at the smaller man.
"We were told about you."
Spiderman shrugged. "Everyone knows about me, Dumbo. I'm freakin' Spiderman, dude."
"We were told about you," Dumbo continued without acknowledging the hero's words, "From some people who happen to have enough brains not to trust you. We don't care what it is that you're doing here, we just want you gone. For good."
"Ah." Peter quirked an eyebrow underneath his mask. "Well, my retirement check hasn't cashed in yet so I guess I gotta keep doing my job. First on the list is you guys, bucko."
They still hadn't moved. Not a foot, not even a flinch. Their gazes stood fierce while they kept quiet. The only sound in the alley now was the sniveling of the cornered man whom continued to hold both hands up in defense. Peter wasn't one for waiting and here was a clock with hands that decidedly stopped ticking away.
"Whatever, fella. Let's do this."
It was almost a cue, a curtain calling with the stage director filing the actors in line. They had all moved at once, sending Peter's Spidey sense haywire. From every side he was surrounded, this time guns pointed his way. Thankfully the smaller man took advantage of the sudden rush of action and ran off from the scene, his voice following him on the way out.
"Okay..." Peter murmured.
This looked bad. Kind of. He was Spiderman, after all.
Dumbo pushed the pistol to his head suddenly, knocking him slightly against the temple. "So, Spiderman, we're not here to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter smiled. "I'm like the merc with the mouth, but family friendly. You've heard of him right, tough guy? I can talk all day. We had a contest once-"
"Oh, shut it, you punk!" One of the smaller men, a twin supposedly to the last of the four, pushed himself closer as if trying to get into the action. "If we kill Spiderman, we'll be known among thousands as the one who finally put you where you belong, you freak."
"Whoa, slow your roll. Lemme guess, you're a Leo, right?"
They ignored his snark comment, deciding to attack all at once. The first to move was Dumbo, his finger sliding against the trigger. Peter leaned back, knocking himself into one of the twins behind him, narrowly missing the bullet meant for him that quickly found a target in the final twin's shoulder. Dumb and Dumber.
Dumb flung himself away from the action, grasping at his bleeding arm.
"One down and out of commission. Three to go." Peter blocked a punch to the ribs and webbed a kick to the ground. "You guys should really keep the safety on those guns. You might accidentally hurt one of your own."
Dumbo went for a second assault, cocking the gun once more and aiming for Spiderman.
"That's getting old." He flipped out of the circle of men, returning with full force to knock the backs turned to him off their feet.
Dumber was still fighting to get the webbing off his foot. Spiderman finished him off, shooting extra strength webbing at the man, sticking him to the brick wall behind him.
"That's two," he called out. "Come on guys, I thought you were trying to kill me." Not that he was egging them on per say, but it was part of his character. These guys were pathetic if their main goal was to end the vigilante tonight for good.
The largest of the group got to his feet again, shoving Toothpick back up in irritation.
"Looks like Dumbo gets it."
The man lunged forward, fists pulled back and ready for an all out attack. His eyes screamed murder, something Peter wished his mask lenses could've blurred out. They were actually crazy scary once you got within a good foot of them.
In a single moment of action, Spiderman leaped upwards, landing easily on the highest part of a nearby wall. The man who had gone after him with fists raised stopped in confusion after realizing his target had run off.
"Up here, big guy," Peter called out.
The man turned to look up and was instantly assaulted by a blast of thick webbing wrapping his limbs tightly to his torso.
"Got you, Dumbo." Peter heaved a breath, glancing down at the three men currently unable to move. One in pain, still clutching the bleeding shoulder and the other two certainly not going anywhere. There was one more. He peered around in search for the taller man; he was nowhere to be found. However, the shadows were heavy and he could be anywhere really. He shot out a single web, sticking to a trash bin in the distance in hopes of getting the last one's attention.
Nothing.
Peter tried again. This time sitting a moment to plan his next move. With a jolt and all at once, he sprung from the shadows while simultaneously shooting thin webbing in every direction possible. He was in plain sight then with the lights from nearby streetlamps reflecting off his suit. He heaved himself upwards and off the ground- stretching the webs tight- before gripping the next wall beside him.
He waited.
In the next moment, it seemed one shadow grew a bit more. Toothpick had moved again and a single thread of the almost invisible webbing vibrated from the start to the end right in Spiderman's hand.
'There you are.'
As quick as he could, Peter shot webbing right at the corner, triumphantly hearing a grunt and the plump of limbs as they hit the concrete.
"Four down."
He pulled the final man out into plain sight and was acutely aware of the glare he was being given. The man's arms pulled against the webs in an attempt to escape.
"Don't bother trying to get out of those. They're my own brand of sturdy material. Not even Hulk can get out of them."
That was the last of them. Now all he needed to do was wrap up the other guy and leave them for the cops to find.
Dumb was still bleeding from the shoulder where the bullet had gone, but Peter couldn't care less. It'd be fine. He concentrated on aiming at the man instead.
What he failed to notice however was that the man was no longer holding his arm, but had a gun pointed straight at him. He only noticed this when his Spidey sense hummed just as the bullet shot from the pistol and headed straight for him.
He pulled himself off of that wall, then, shooting webbing at the weapon and dragging it out of the guy's hand. When his Spidey sense went off a second time, there was no time to move seeing as he was in midair; both hands a bit occupied. It really was his own stupidity that caused it.
A single bullet came racing at him- he tried to swerve from it's path but only hindered it's main target, his chest. It hit him squarely in the abdomen, blood immediately oozing from the area.