Chapter Text
Life was SO boring.
Peter Parker's math teacher was drabbling on again about the most boring topic... Couldn't the teacher understand that the class understood him the first 300 times he explained this shit? Peter tilted his head to the side and looked out the window. I'm Spider-Man, he thought. I should be out there right now saving lives, not sitting in here daydreaming about the perfect hamburger while Mr. Kenzy drags on about his stupid equations.
Screw it. Peter would literally die of boredom if he sat there any longer so without asking for permission, he left the class and didn't turn back.
-
"Hey Karen, any bad guys around?" Peter asked as he fumbled to take off his sweater and jeans, to reveal his suit, in a back alley.
"Two armed men robbing a shop two streets away." Karen reported back.
Peter almost whooped with joy. "Finally, some fun."
"Be careful Peter. Remember, Mr. Stark is my first contact to call if you get into any trouble."
"Damn it Karen, I won't get into any trouble. I'm not a kid. I'll be fine," Peter pulled on his mask and dumped his bag and clothes in a corner and started down the road.
Karen notified Peter of his arrival at the scene once he made it, although he definitely did not need to be told. In front of him was a smashed up corner shop with fire licking up the side of the building and one man cowering on the floor with a shotgun pointed at his temple, three dead customers and the second attacker poised ready to shoot anyone who came to interrupt. Well, almost anyone.
"Hey guys!" Peter said cheerily as he swung in from a back door. Both men looked up from what they were doing. Peter knocked the first guy onto the floor as he landed. "Oops, didn't see you there." He snatched the gun from his hands: luckily he hadn't got around to actually stealing any money yet, and brought it down on the man's, temple knocking him out cold. "One down, one to go." Peter counted casually.
"Spider-Man." The second guy said as he rose to his feet - he was a good few inches taller than Peter and strongly built, obviously not to mention the gun in his arms and knife in his pocket.
"That's me." Peter stepped closer, shot a web at his gun and yanked him closer, holding out his hand to shake. "And you are?" Before the thug could answer Peter used his free hand to flip him over his back, landing him squirming on the floor.
"You shouldn't have done that." The man said in between breaths.
"And why is that? What are you gonna do, shoot me?" Peter joked. "Well, sorry but-" Peter stopped talking immediately. Something was wrong. He looked down to see a red stain growing on his lower stomach.
"Oh shit." Peter stumbled backwards into a table, knocking it over and collapsed on the floor. His stomach seized up in pain as he attempted to lift himself up.
"You know, you're really gonna have to try harder than that." Peter tested, his voice hoarse. Turns out it was a mistake, because two more bullets found their way into his body - one on his left shoulder and one just beneath his heart. He cried out in pain. Too close. Not enough time to mess around. Peter shot webs at the thug to keep him pinned to the ground, and stumbled out of the shop, only to straight away fall to his knees on top of the shattered glass of the windows.
"Karen, how much... how much t-time do I have?" Peter stammered, knowing he had to get to safety, fast. The fire from outside the building was growing by the second and the smokey air was making it increasingly hard to breathe. Not to mention the three bullet holes he now had in his abdomen.
"Approximately 10 minutes until extreme blood loss and possible fatality." Karen replied.
"Jeez thanks Karen, way to make me feel better." Peter scrambled to his feet and ignoring the spots forming in his vision and the almost unbearable pain in his stomach, and tried to walk further.
"Peter, you should get out of the smoke before it causes you further damage." Karen advised.
"Yeah, no shit, Karen, im trying." Peter coughed and inhaled sharply, then coughed again. Damn it hurt... He knew she was right though. If he didn't get himself out of the smoke, gunshot wounds or not, he was causing himself further damage. He also knew he was stupid for thinking he could walk - he fell to the floor, landing on a cluster of shards of glass digging into his back.
"Approximately 7 minutes until extreme blood loss and possible fatality."
"Yep, got it the first time." Peter crawled on his hands and knees away from the building, attempting to find clear air. At least then he could breathe and assess the damage he had taken. Suddenly something exploded behind him sending him flying into a wall. He screamed as his back slammed against it and he dropped to the ground. The collision had made all of his wounds feel 10 times worse. More and more hot blood seeped from the holes on his chest... Peter didn't think his enhanced healing would have his back this time. Everything was spinning. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel. He was numb.
Peter rolled onto his back and stared at the grey clouds of smoke swarming around him, filling his nostrils, his mouth, his ears... his chest burst and he coughed violently, gasping for air although the only thing he breathed in was smoke and ash. He kept coughing until he was sure he was coughing up blood - the pain had increased so much that he was only half conscious. Peter curled in on himself and held a hand over his mouth as the tears began to roll down his cheeks, leaving clean lines over his ash covered cheeks. He was going to die here. No one to save him. Come to think of it... shouldn't the cops be here? At least the fire people. Fire people? Fire brigade. Haha. Funny... the word Brigade sounds like parade.. so happy and fun. But this is what it's come to.
A coughing fit struck the boy again, wracking his small but muscular frame with coughs and splutters. He pulled off his mask, exposing him to the burning air and the smell of death around him. Oh god. This was it.
Another spike of pain hit Peter and he cried out in pain, closing his hands into fists and clenching his teeth. So close now... he cracked open his eyes one last time to see something colourful soaring through the air towards him. An angel?
Everything went black.
-
Tony Stark swept into the crime scene. He scanned the area, a worry-stricken expression on his face. He had received an automated call from 'Karen' warning him that Peter was in danger and had tracked him here - from what he could see on his tracking device, Peter should be right here.
Tony walked through the shop's back door and found a criminal pinned to the ground by what could only be Spider-Man's webs. That guy was obviously whoever Peter was off trying to stop, and he was also obviously dead. Iron Man prayed that Peter was luckier, although it was hard to say in this thick smoke. At the same time as scanning the area for any sign of his Intern, Tony called for backup including Happy, explaining the scene and situation.
A flash of red and blue caught Tony's eye and he spun around to see Peter lying limp in a corner. He rushed towards him and without second thought picked the boy up bridal style and immediately took off into the sky. Once he was satisfied with how far from the smoke they were, Tony landed on a flat roof and lay Peter carefully on the tarmac.
"FRIDAY, run vitals." Iron Man ordered as he stepped out of the suit.
"Peter appears to be suffering from multiple broken bones, several gunshot wounds leading to blood loss and severely damaged lungs from exposure to smoke and/or chemicals." The results came back. Shit...
"Kid? Can you hear me?" Worry knitted his every word. "Peter?"
Tony pulled Peter's mask off revealing his pail face. He raised a shaky hand to take the Spider-Man's pulse. There was none.
"No. No, no no no... come on kid you're not giving up on me now." He began doing compressions on the boy's chest, hearing his ribs crack and his hands coming back bloodied from the gunshot wounds. Damn it. This stupid kid was his responsibility and for whatever reason, Tony cared about him. He placed his thumb under Peter's chin and tilted his head up, opening his mouth slightly and breathing oxygen into his smoke-filled lungs. The pressure he applied to the kid's chest and breaths of life into his lungs became more desperate as no response came.
Just as Tony was about to give up, a wheeze and light crackling sound came from Peter's general direction, and suddenly he jolted upright, spluttering and gasping for air.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay." Tony rubbed comforting circles on the kid's back as he regained consciousness. Peter looked up at Tony with tears pricking the corners of his eyes, his chest heaving and a weak, lifeless look in his eyes. Tony placed a reassuring hand on Peter's chest and pulled the kid in close to him. He went limp in Tony's arms, still extremely weak, and his head flopped back. Now that he was breathing, although not perfectly, Tony Stark still had to get him to a medic for the other damage done. His suit closing around him, he carefully scooped the boy up from the ground and took off into the early evening sky.
-
Peter woke up to the feeling of soft hospital sheets and a calloused hand gently brushing his hair out of his eyes. He frowned and opened his eyes, immediately blinded by the white hospital light.
"M-mr Stark?" His voice came out small and quiet.
"You with us?" Tony pulled his chair closer to the hospital bed. Peter didn't answer.
"It sure is nice of you to join me after 8 hours." Tony smiled. Peter looked confused but of course explanations would have to wait for later. "How are you feeling?"
"Great - I think I can come home right away." Peter lied as he tried to push himself into a sitting position, only resulting in a shot of pain in his chest. Tony lowered him back down and raised an eyebrow.
"How do you feel, Peter? Really." Tony questioned.
"Like I've been run over by a truck 20 times consecutively."
"I can only imagine."
"So... what exactly happened?" Peter asked.
"I'll explain later. Just rest now, okay? You did a great job. I'm proud of you, kid." Tony got up and left the room and Peter watched him go.
Tony's phone rang. Happy.
"Hey Tony," Happy said, "how's the kid holding up?"
"Pretty good considering what he's been through. Is everything okay?"
"Yes... one question. When you called me yesterday when you went to get Peter, you said there were two guys, right? Both dead and Peter had them tied up."
"Yes, I did. Happy are you sure everything is ok?"
"Well, one of the guys is gone." Happy said cautiously.
"What?" Tony was shocked. "I was certain he was dead." There was no way he could have survived in the centre of that fire. He glanced at the sleeping Peter through the glass of the hospital dorm door.
"Clearly not. And from what I gather, considering his patterns and how he works... his next in line to die will be Peter."
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