Chapter Text
Oh, father tell me,
We get what we deserve.
Peter started to realize this was a mistake about 30,000 metres up. As he clung to the colossal ship/transporter/crazy alien thing, he risked a glimpse down at New York below him. The city was alight, swarming with screaming civilians and screeching, monstrous... things. The big grey alien that had come off that ship with Thor – Drags? Dracks? – had called them ‘Outriders’: harbingers of death and destruction, serving the most evil being in all the cosmos. Fun times. But occasionally, amidst the chaos, a spark of red light would appear, or the icy blue flare of a repulsor blast. Darting figures sprinted into the battle, where creatures fell one by one. The battle wasn’t lost yet, and they didn’t plan on losing it. As Peter stared at the war below him, he caught a flash of yellow, and recognised with a jolt the school bus he had been on when the spaceship arrived.
4 hours earlier
“I can’t believe we're going to see the Statue of Liberty for our field trip. We’ve all seen it! We live in New York!” Ned groaned.
Michelle leant over the back of her seat to smirk at him. “But this is the one landmark we've seen this year that wasn’t built by slaves. It was actually designed by two French abolitionists to honour America's abolition of slavery and instigation of Civil Rights.”
“Ok, first of all, we know MJ – you told us. Twice. And second of all, we've only been to one other landmark this year, and it kinda almost blew up too.”
“Yeah, that Spider dude saved a monument built by slaves! Whoopee!”
“And he saved us!” retorted Ned indignantly.
“Joking,” she grinned, punching him on the shoulder.
Peter sighed. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, as the raucous chatter around them filled the bus. Peter's phone pinged. Again. Then again.
Tony - 10:43
Kid, get your stuff.
Tony – 10:43
It's ‘retreat’ time.
Tony – 10:43
Right. Now.
The hairs on his arms stood straight up, and the most horrible feeling flooded his mind. Danger was coming, danger so big and bad that nothing would stop it. The bus stopped. He twisted to look out of the window, scanning the skyline for this danger and –
He saw it.
A gigantic ship, strangely circular. Spinning rims lined its inside, and the sun caught the burnished metal sides as it descended on New York. It looked like a gear from an old grandfather clock, if old grandfather clocks were huge, futuristic and from space. The rest of the class crowded to the windows, and as the first shrieks from people in the city began to echo, and frantic sirens wailed, Peter was reminded of the Battle of Manhattan 9 years ago. He was 7 when it happened. He and May had sheltered under a table with the TV on the news channel. They had eaten chocolate, and they had cried, and she had held his hand until the screams outside stopped. Now it was happening again.
Tony had asked him to help stop it.
“Ned, I -”
“Go! I’ll cover for you! Most people are leaving anyways,” Ned interrupted.
Michelle simply sat in her seat and stared, almost entranced, at the alien ship.
“It hasn’t attacked yet has it? Maybe these ones are friendly.”
Peter shrugged, and made his way down the bus aisle. He turned at the door.
“Bye, Ned.”
Ned stood in the aisle, barely able to contain his fear, for himself, his family, but most imminently his friend. “Good luck Peter.”
Then he hopped down to the steps, and began to sprint across the bridge to New York.
Tony – 10:45
You coming Peter?
Meeeee – 10:46
Yes Mr Stark, running to Manhattan rn
Tony – 10:46
You're running? Doesn’t matter – 177A Bleecker St. Be there.
Meeeee – 10:47
Will do Mr Stark
When Peter showed up, Mr Stark was standing outside. The area was deserted – abandoned newspapers blew through the urban desolation, and bicycles lay discarded on the sidewalks. The shadow of the ship was directly above them. The sky was grey metal.
Mr Stark waved. A suitcase (not unlike the one that Peter had first been given his own suit in) stood by his feet.
“Hey spiderling! Welcome to the end of the world. Come on in!”
The lobby of the house was destroyed. In fact, most of the area was destroyed. Wreckage from buildings littered the road; hard hats from construction workers decorated the mounds of rubble. 177A Bleecker St wasn’t in much better of a shape. The polished wooden floors were tarnished and scratched, and several floors possessed a large hole, skeletal remains of floorboards left sticking into the open space like broken ribs. The chain of holes ended in a large crater in the middle of the staircase, where most of the debris had gathered. It looked like someone, something, had fallen from the sky and crashed into this very building.
“What... happened?” faltered Peter as they stepped into the house.
“Oh, nothing much. Code green.”
“What?”
“Inside joke.”
There were three men waiting at the foot of the staircase. Two of them were draped in dark robes, one also wearing a crimson cloak. The other looked dishevelled, dressed in a worn suit that was slightly too large. He stood nervously, looking out of place amongst the well assured men (monks? They looked like monks) stood beside him.
“Peter,” started Mr Stark, striding forward, “I’d like to introduce you to my old friend Doctor Bruce Banner, and newer friends Doctor Stephen Strange and Wong...”
“It's just Wong,” the shorter monk dude stated.
Wow.
“Uh, it’s uh, an a-amazing, uh, opportunity to meet you finally, um, sirs.”
Nailed it.
Doctor Banner stepped forward and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Peter – I only wish we could do so under better circumstances.”
Bruce Banner just shook my hand.
“Uh, l-likewise,” he stammered.
Mr Stark clapped his hand onto Peter's shoulder, saving him from descending into a state of complete shutdown.
“Right, I’m sure you’d all love to fangirl about each other but right now there’s a hostile alien ship hovering over New York and Peter's the only backup that's coming at the moment.”
“Um, Mr Stark, are you sure that it's hostile?”
“Kid, when is it not hostile?”
“Touché.”
“Anyway, I called you here instead of telling you to suit up on the bridge for one reason.”
He nudged the chrome suitcase forward with one foot.
“Open it kid.”
Peter inched towards the suitcase warily. Mr Stark rolled his eyes.
“It’s not gonna kill you Peter, just open it quick – the world is ending.”
Peter dropped to his knees and pressed a fumbling hand to the lock button on the case. It immediately sprang open to reveal his suit, but different. It was the one Tony had offered him at the Avengers’ compound – the ‘Iron Spider'. The deeper blue fabric seemed to shine with electricity, and the golden spider on the chest glowed in the sunlight filtering through the roof. The eyes shone a bright white, but a strip of neon blue tinged the edges. Like lightsabers, thought Peter, unable to hide the grin on his face.
“Is this... for me, Mr Stark?”
The older man smirked. “I doubt it’ll fit me kid.”
A sudden explosion cut through the content silence, distant but auditory. The rumble of the blast filled Peter’s head, followed quickly by the screams of terrified civilians.
Mr Stark’s face hardened.
“No time for chat.”
He turned to face the rest of the room.
“Suit up.”